CHAPTER 5

 

The logs crunched and crackled in the fireplace. The place didn't sop
up the warmth and gleaming of the fire. It was still dark and fusty and
there were no signs it was going to improve despite the three lamps
that had been lit in the room.

"Well, Hobson, such a remarkable job. The ritual will..."

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir but you do realized there's another threat
we haven't foreseen? I'm trying to say..."

"I know what you are trying to say, Hobson." Quentin Travers patted
the other's one shoulder with something between condescension and
superiority. "But this can't be stopped, no matter the unexpected
circumstances that may surround us. She will be fine. We have taken
severe measures just to keep things within the limits of this appalling
place. Not to mention this is a secret ritual. A secret that only the
Council knows about."

"Angelus is a sly beast."

"I am pretty aware of that fact, Hobson. If this Slayer is half of
the things Giles had told us, she will succeed. Now, you were saying
something about a cup of tea?"

 

Buffy yawned for the tenth time in the morning. She felt so tired.
Maybe she had patrolled too much. Taking her payback on piles of dust
that had done nothing to make her feel better. She knew she'd have been
happy. She hadn't even had to dump him or give a speech about her
jumbled emotions and how they had made her slipped that mistaken phrase
of love. Maybe the twelfth yawn was due to a poor diet. Fast food,
faster than ever if she took into account that she had been eating like
a dying bird lately. So that was the only and rational explanation for
this lack of strength that had been threatening to send her to the
floor all day.

Crap, couldn't she have a decent, normal birthday? Eighteen. She had
run downstairs that morning hoping to find another jam jar decorated
with fresh flowers. Still an optimistic chick. There was one with
raspberry marmalade. And toasts and a steaming cup of coffee and
cereals and her mother's sad smile as though she'd read her mind. Of
course she did. Thanks God Joyce had said nothing and, probably, that
would be the best present ever. Perhaps the best thing could be to slip
in her bed early enough not to have to deal with a surprise party that
would end in a disaster. As usual. Her bed and a sneaked bottle of
wine, 'cause after all not every day of your life you're eighteen. And,
in her case, that would certainly have to be celebrated with fireworks.
He'd have lit fireworks for her... In her blood, in her skin, in her
brains. Shhhh, shhhh, shhhh. A mistake. Repeat after me. A mistake...

 

"Well, well, well. And they say there aren't surprises left in these
days. Hi, Spike, my best friend. How have you been?" Willie grasped a
cloth in his hands before cleaning the counter like a maniac.

"Have better days. A bottle. Make it worth it. Don't want to puke in
that shitty excuse for a pee-room you've got back there." Spike headed
for the further table. Wasn't in the mood to listen to the chitchat...
There wasn't any chitchat. Everybody was in the most silent mood. Only
whispers and furtive glances. As if they were expecting big news.

The bottle made a strange noise when it hit the table. Willie had the
jitters or was his imagination? "I've heard Angelus is back." He didn't
pay attention to Spike's raised eyebrows. "Heard he's looking for a
certain blondie..."

"And that would be me? Afraid he can catch me here and tear the place
to the ground, Willie? Don't worry. He'd be dust before you could blink
an eye. 'Sides, I won't stay that long."

He hadn't been in the mood for anything lately. He knew he had acted
liked a chicken shit, leaving her like that... Flowers did it.
Channelling geek William had scared the shit out of him. Made him
think. Odd and astonishing. Should have marked it on a sodding
calendar. He had to bury that wanker inside him for good. To dig a deep
grave and stick him in it, pouring shitloads of lead on his damned
corpse. Prevent him form rising again. From assaulting him whenever he
didn't expect it.

Day after day he had forced himself to sleep after four bottles of
whatever he could find. Night after night he had stood under her window
as the duffer he had turned into. He could taste her blood. Sleeping,
awake. It didn't matter. He'd taste her skin, the salty drops of sweat
between her breasts... the coffee and the mint flavour of the
toothpaste... He had left his refuge only to watch over her when she
slept comfortable in her bed. Fag after fag he had sailed up and down
her body, had slipped inside the covers, had stroke the smoothness of
her curves. With his eyes fixed on the shutters. With all his being
conscious of her presence.

Three words were stuck in his mind. Playing on and on. At least in
those eternal moments in which he was as scatty as a lousy psycho in
an asylum garden. Love... was it love? Or some twisted emotion he had
clung to from his human days? And yet, he still remembered the first
time he saw her. The whole world was rolling in slow motion. He'd
wanted to shove aside whomever that was standing next to her just for
her body to dance against his. He'd wanted to curl and rub and stretch
against the red and yellow silhouette. Had intensified the desire of
having her in all ways possible... He had never thought too much about
anything. Made his noggin begged for mercy. Hadn't found the answer
yet. That hadn't stopped the longing, though.

"... because of the ritual." Willie was still talking and he hadn't
heard a word. Scatty. Yeah.

"You, the Slayer of Slayers, don't know anything about the ritual?
Eighteen's birthday... Slayer, vampire... Fight. One wins. It's said
that there's some sort of no special powers involved. But you can't
trust what you hear, now can you?"

 

He was a vampire. He had super strength and all that shit. The prince
of darkness and blah, blah, blah. Wished he had been as those pathetic
vamps from the movies and turned into a bat just to get to Giles' house
more quickly. He knew about her birthday. Had talked to Joyce when
Buffy'd been at school. He had explained over a cup of hot cocoa. The
lady had understood. Had accepted it. After all, whose mother wants a
monster for her daughter? Not that he cared too much about that
particular thing. But there was something in him that really wanted to
do things right. For once. That had convinced him of his insanity. He
didn't recognize himself anymore.

The door throbbed under his fists. The faded shuffle reached his ears.
If he had been a living being he probably wouldn't have heard it.
Muzzled steps as if the owner weren't eager for reaching the house
entrance.

"Invite me in or for bloody sake I'll wait right here till I'll fry!
And don't even start with that Watcher bullshit!"

Giles' hand clasped the door till his knuckles hurt. If it hadn't been
for Buffy's story he'd have shut that door and waited at the window for
a morning dust show.

Spike flew inside when Giles finally muttered an invitation. His coat
fluttered behind him, around him, like an ominous shadow.

"I'm not going to beat about the bush, Watcher. Just tell me if this
little thing that I've heard is right. There's a ritual and the Slayer
is powerless. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"I would say that's not of your business, Spike." Giles appealed to his
tough side. He wasn't going to be inquired by a vampire of matters
which belonged strictly to the Council. Despite all his doubts and his
disagreement about procedures.

"I'll take that as a yes. You are nuts. You and that bloody council of
yours. Have you seen her powerless? I had. She was lost, for Christ
sake!"

"This is not about strength." Would he be able to reach his distant
glass? He doubted Spike would allow him to move a toe.

"You can't beat Angelus with your brains. He's a cunning bastard. Had
two hundred years to improve his sodding skills."

"This has nothing to do with Angel. Security has been checked twi..."

"And you're a buggering idiot, aren't you?" Spike's roars echoed all
over the room. A comet would have been slower. Suddenly his blue eyes
were a blurring image in front of his glasses. "He'll slip in. He won't
miss this gift you've delivered to him in a golden tray."

Giles stepped back. The hard surface of the wall stopped him. "I see
what..."

"You don't see anything!" There was a grinding sound. His glasses had
vanished under one of Spike's boot. "Those bloody things served you for
no purpose! But I warn you..." His hands were on the wall, framing both
sides of Giles' face. "Pray Watcher. If you care for your bleeding
soul, just pray. 'Cause if something happens to her, I'll torture you
so slowly that you'll wish you'd never been born. And then I'll keep
you as my minion. Just to torture you a little more. Here... - his hand
forced Giles' neck to one side and his fangs sank in his neck. He
didn't drink even one drop before he tossed back - have a sample of
your future."

Suddenly he was gone. As a dreadful nightmare in which one couldn't
tell apart reality from illusions. Giles was terrified. For one long
moment Spike's tone had changed to a thundering, coarse and deep voice.
The sound of black, sordid and foul dungeons. Primitive and unknown
creatures crept starving in its depth. The sound of true evil. Even his
eyes had a hypnotizing gleam. Not yellow but red, as hot embers burning
the edges of his soul. He'd fallen into them seeing that promised,
horrifying future.

Giles knew about not-so-empty threads. Had thrown a few of his own back
in his time. Spike's behaviour had been excessive, though. And amazing.
A vampire showing so much care... If he cared about her, he'd have
known that every book of instructions began with the word trust. She
was the Slayer! The most powerful and brave and... He, her Watcher, had
betrayed her. He wondered if she would ever trust him again after all
the needles, and the chemicals and the magical stones he had used to
induce her a powerless state. He had had to save her! In the middle of
the street as if she were nothing but a little lamb. That worthless
vampire... he had been right. She was terrified. Screaming for help as
if she had forgotten who she was. What she was. And her eyes... Was he
going to forget that spark of true hate in the green depths? Her words,
her obvious, so obvious pain for his disloyalty? Bet Spike had never
betrayed her... As annoying and evil and disgusting and he could keep
on going with the list for the rest of his existence, he surely as hell
hadn't. In spite of...everything, she trusted him. In her in and out
circle of trusting him, she did... Joyce's words jumped to his mind.
"If he is out there...I feel relieved."

Giles ran towards the chest where he kept the special weapons.

 

Darkness surrounded her, more throttling than the terrorized bump of
her heart. Her hands waved in the air trying to find a switch. How in
hell had they thought she would be able to stop such a crazy vampire
with no strength at all? She had brought the weapons and the Holy Water
but... they were nothing if she couldn't even raise a stake in a
trembling fist. She wouldn't even show her face in that awful place if
the bastard hadn't messed up with her mother.

London murky, mucky streets flashed in her memories. Hands, obscene and
indecent, fear and desperation... Yet, she had managed to survive.
Okay, she had been helped in the end but those men... She had managed
to fight them even as the ordinary girl she was back then. Not to
mention her ingenious skills had been on top. She should have talked
about the lack of strength, however. The nervous giggle magnified in
the pitch-dark room. Like ugly, menacing worms crawling up and down the
walls. Hoped he had been there. With all his smirks and stupid cocky
attitude. Just there to help her. To share something of his strength
with her. To imbue yarns of it in her blood. Like a sponge absorbing
water. She'd had been more valiant, knowing he was behind her. Even if
he'd stood in the furthest corner and watched her, she'd have been
braver.

Her hand found a string hanging from the ceiling. A terrorized gaze,
thousands of terrorized gazes looked at her from the walls. Photos of
her mother. Her heart stormed as the door throbbed and pounded.

The pills were the clue. That bottle of pills she had grabbed from that
batty vamp when, thanks God, he had lost his balance before he could
choke her to death. He had gone even madder. Chasing her along those
corridors, across that maze. Only perverted people could have planned
such a trial for somebody they should have taken care of. Giles... As
she entered into the basement, she forbade herself of giving him one
second of her time. It was too precious to waste it in a traitor. Her
mother looked at her from the chair she was tied to. But first...

The daft vamp finally smashed the door and nearly broke her wrist in
his attempt of getting back his pills. She stared at him, silent,
motionless, waiting as he gulped the bottle of water that had been on
a table. She couldn't stop watching even when his body burst into dust
when the Holy Water finally performed its task. Relief washed over her
features and she ran to her mother.

"Buffy, thank God you're okay. Oh, that man..." Her eyes widened with
horror. "Buffy..."

"Don't worry, mom. I'll set you free. He can't hurt you. I promise."

"Don't make promises you won't be able to fulfil, little girl."

Buffy spun on her heels, frozen to the bones. Angelus. The most evil
smile dancing on his lips. His tongue swept them as though he could
taste her in delighted anticipation.

"And they say unlife is not worth it..."

The world shrunk only to two sounds. Her mother's strident scream and
the devilish thump of one boot on the wood step.

 

tbc...
CHAPTER 6

 

Spike had run along the empty streets not daring to stop and sniff the
air more carefully. His fear guided him. His overwhelming fear of
losing her before he could make things right. Show her he wasn't a
quitter. That something weird and uncanny had made a mess of his brain,
turning it into mashed potatoes. There were other scents mixed up with
Buffy's. Joyce's and... Spike stopped as if the whiff had staked him.
That fucking Watcher would die. If they were alive or not. He bloody
deserved it.

A distant, stifled scream stabbed his skull. He whirled around; his
yellow eyes brushing the street. An abandoned doss-house. The smell of
wet cement spiralled up from the windows. Spike rushed into the musty
building, crossing recklessly the corridors, directed by another shout
and the shattering sound of broken glass.

He went into that cellar as if he were blindfolded with black gauze.
Only a dark shape made of black leather was all he could see as he
snatched the collar of a coat and threw Angelus into the hall. He
followed him, not allowing that bastard to get to his feet, never
turning around 'cause if he did, if he agree to the pleading of his
heart, he'd be nothing but a piece of dead flesh. Dead without the
prefix un to keep him going.

 

Joyce was crying. Somewhere behind the haze in which she was wrapped,
Buffy could hear her gagged sobs. The most infamous demon in the same
room with her mother! The thought put springs in her shoes. Her hands
touched the wet cheeks as if she were soothing a little kid. Enjoying
the warmth of her mother's skin. Feeling her alive. The empty bottle of
Holy Water she'd kept in her pocket had been of no purpose. The few
last drops had slightly burnt Angelus' flesh. And yet, the few strings
of smoke had had a sweet and rotten odour... Like fruits long forgotten
under a summer sun. The smashed glass had opened a gash in Angel's
eyebrow. Buffy had really wanted to pierce his eyes with every shiver
of glass that had strewn over her. Of course, she needed strength even
for that. It had been so easy for him to send her to the ground, to
press her tightly to the floor. To pin her wrists trying eagerly to
taste her lips before he could taste her neck. The bulge that was
pressed against her stomach had been the nastier and sicker thing. And
then he had frozen for a bit, growling something about she being a slut.
He had slapped her with such energy that she still heard little bells
tinkling in her ears.

A crack behind her. Joyce didn't look scared, though. Buffy turned
round only to find Giles holding a crossbow. A powerful crash
ricocheted in the basement.

"Take her out of here. Now." She ordered before taking the weapon from
his hands. "To my house."

"Where... where are you going?" Giles couldn't tell what astonished him
the most. She speaking to him again, her command and consequent trust
in helping her mother or the fact she had started to run through the
corridor towards the fighting clamour.

 

Having regained his balance, Angelus jumped on Spike with blind fury.
They stumbled and fell through the stairs pit. He kneed his grandchilde
strong enough to send him to the next room. Spike leapt to his feet
quickly. They both circled the room like boxers on a ring, staring at
each other hatefully.

"You know you can't beat me, Willie. Have taught you that long ago."
That superior tone... 

"You've messed with my women, poncey. I'll dust you for that." And he
had never meant it that much.

"Your women?" Angelus' laughter was a shot in an empty field. Echoing
and outrageous. "You've always liked picking up my crumbs, haven't you,
boy?"

Spike wanted to tear that cackle to shreds. Each tooth slowly falling
to the floor like pearls from a ripped necklace. Instead he kicked
Angel's midriff with such force that he crashed against the lamps
shattering them into pieces. Before Spike could reach him again,
Angelus leapt to his feet and charged. So mad that he might have puffed
along like a black, lethal train. They collided in the air like black
meteors falling over the burning logs of the fireplace. The hot coals
sprayed everywhere like a drizzle from hell in a red, burning twilight.

"Why do you think I've lasted this much, boy?" He straddled Spike with
powerful thighs, marking his words with each blow. "'I'm not a puny
maggot like you."

"No..." He shoved him aside, rolling back up to a standing position.
Blood squirted from the left corner of his mouth. "You're nothing but a
jammy bugger. But your luck is about to change."

Those dark eyes that shimmered with hidden sniggers... Spike had
proved, over and over, he wasn't a failure. Had achieved important
things. More important than those deeds this scumbag bragged of. Yes,
he was older. But not greater. Only a worm feeding out of rat guts and
wandering along filthy alleys just for a sign from... heaven or hell or
whatever he could have found. Instead he had found a treasure. A golden
warrior. And he had screwed up even that. That bloody soul he had
boasted about was nothing but a piece of shit. Dry and so lost that it
couldn't have possibly know the difference between love and self-pity. 
His fist stroke Angel's jaws and it didn't feel like hitting iron
anymore in spite of the howling of his blistered hands. Loosing the
soul had brought nothing but a nightmare. Not some 'let's destroy the
world' nightmare but somebody who had so many birds in his noggin he'd
have sprouted wings out of his sorry lugs. He couldn't even achieve the
ultimate goal. The Slayer. Or him for that matters. Bloody thanks for
that.

Slithering on the hot coals, Angelus made a sweep kick before falling
to the floor. That bastard had bitten her. BITTEN HER! He should have
killed him the first time Dru'd towed him with her. He had known damned
right there wasn't enough room for two roosters in a hen house.
Somehow, he'd forgotten about that. The boy was hilarious. Not because
he was funny but because he was so gullible that made the bullying more
amusing. But he had grown... Had learnt... Not all the lessons he'd
have liked to teach him. That human side of him had always been right
around the corner. But he had achieved... -he was in no way going to
accept anything important related with that sad grandchilde of his -
certain things. Angelus grabbed Spike's head and crashed it against the
floor. One of his knees was firmly placed on Spike's crotch. He had
grown enough to believe, to truly believe he could beat him. Take his
things, his property. He had bitten her... His fist stopped in the
middle of a blow. Had bitten her and hadn't killed her. Hadn't added
a third Slayer to his body count. Why? Grabbing Spike by the lapels of
the red shirt he pulled him to his feet. Their gazes locked like two
gold, electric drills.

The dark figure of Angelus towering above him didn't diminish the slow
grin forming on Spike's lips. Those eyes were so easy to read. The poor
bastard was trying to twig it. Of course he'd smelt it. Probably not
the whole thing. Only the biting. But for a selfish bastard like him,
that was enough. He'd had the right to mess with Dru every day of their
"happy family" existence. But, what would the almighty Angelus have
done if his grandchilde had got nearer his precious slut Darla? Not a
stake, that's for sure. Artistry meant agonizing punishments, hideous
tortures, painful reminders of 'your place here, boy.' But if he
thought he was going to quell his doubts or certainties or whatever he
was thinking, he was more than crazy. "Hope it eats you, crunches you,
rips your sodding brain out of your skull", Spike would have shouted.
For the first time in his unlife he changed tactics and jabbed
Angelus' right eye with an elbow without crowing about. He made a
diving shoulder roll before Angelus could turn round. The berk was
fast, in spite of his bulky shape. A full spinning wheel kick
dispatched Angel to a wall.

 

Buffy entered into the room at full speed, without taking care of
possible hazards. She had banned the thought of finding only a dark
figure waiting for her. The room was a sinister black, tinged with
a reddish glow. She felt as if she had entered into a huge, pounding
heart. The beats came from the floor where two silhouettes struggled
like hellish chrysalises inside a black cocoon. With her back sliding
against the wall, she reached the furthest and blackest corner. There
was a slight, fainted tick when she opened one of the bottles she had
picked up from the bag she'd brought and left in one of the many rooms.
The point of the bolt that she placed in the crossbow shed dark red
tears.

Spike rolled over, jumping to his feet. He flinched from the blow that
sought his jaw. A flurry of cold wind grazed his left cheek and stabbed
Angelus' right nipple. Angel looked down at the bolt completely
flummoxed. A rush of malevolent smoke flung off from the wound while
his face twisted in agony. His bleeding mouth expelled a shrilling yowl
as he yanked the bolt out and hurled it down. Another arrow pierced his
shoulder, followed by a little flask of water. The splash reached
Spike's face making him hiss. Holy Water... Swerving to his left,
Angelus avoided the next approaching bolt and dashed out with a roar.

Spike swirled around still in his demon face. Buffy stood out in that
corner as though she was standing under a spotlight. Her steady hand
held the crossbow like a life belt from the Titanic. Spike lunged at
her with a growl. His hand slapped the weapon from her fist. He pressed
her against the wall, unfastening his jeans with a flick of his wrist,
guiding her sweaty hand to his shaft. She smelt of daffodils, of fear
and rage. Of sorrow and white heather. His kiss was avid, angry,
bruising. He rubbed himself harder; his knee disappeared between her
legs. On the dark, black corner of the silent boarding house only
groans existed. As if a bizarre creature had been abandoned there. As
if it couldn't exist but in the shadows. Her fingers' pace was as angry
as his lips, as his tongue battling inside her mouth. Buffy knew she
was hurting him but her need was stronger than her concern. She
understood his rage 'cause it matched hers. Helped hers to feed back as
a massive machine absorbing loads of energy, sending it back in myriads
of pulsating reddish novas.

His need was devastating. His desperate need of knowing her alive, of
hearing the rumbling gallop of her heart. Of getting rid of the entire
wrath and the fright of nearly losing her in spite everything he'd said
to himself in those past lonely nights. His hands left the wall and
pulled her nearer, tighter. His forehead pressed against hers as he
came with an agonized grunt. Only for a second he kissed her brutally
before tugging at her denim overalls, hard enough for the two hooks to
clatter on the floor with a shocked little shriek. Crouching down he
finished undressing her by tearing them apart.

Buffy arched against the wall as he pulled one of her legs over his
shoulder. Her ordinary white cotton panties vanished from her body. His
face dived between her thighs, making her jolt and grabbed his hair in
a frantic grip. She was sliding, swirling on new ice skaters. Spinning
on and on, her head dizzy and overwhelmed with powerful sensations as
his tongue thrust deeper inside her, circled and tasted her with sharp,
frenzy flicks. She pushed herself against his mouth; her knee buckled
and her shoulder blades pressed the wall. Her breath came out in short,
weeping moans. She'd like to watch down. Had never experienced that
before. But she didn't dare to open her eyes, scared that the whole
place would collapse in a whirlpool of blurring contours. Afraid of
falling to the floor into a puddle of rattling waves of blood. A
sobbing orgasm ran through her body and she couldn't help the sobs to
become a silent, quivering, deep cry.

Standing up, Spike hugged her with such force that he could feel the
buttons of her shirt digging into his flesh. She was wrapped around
him. Her legs, her arms, her face sank in the crook of his neck.

"Shhhh, love. I got you, I got you." He repeated in a low voice. "Never
leave you alone again. Promise that. I'll take you home now."

"I can't go home. I'm naked." She tittered between receding sobs.

Gently, he pulled her down and put his coat around her before taking
her up in his arms. "Won't let peeping eyes on your curves, pet. Those
are only for me. When we reach your comfy bed." He promised with a
roguish look, kissing her eyes.

 

tbc...


CHAPTER 7   
 

Buffy chewed the same nail for the fourth time unable to focus on
Willow and Giles chat. By the blush in her friend's cheeks, which
contended with her sleek hair, she'd have known that something really
important had been achieved. Instead, all her mind was able to sing was
the same dreadful song, as a soundtrack for the movie sliding inside
her head. Faith had killed a man. Faith had killed a man and I was
there. I was there and did nothing to prevent it. I'm a partner in
crime. Faith had killed a man... She stared at her clean palms.

"Don't you think, Buffy?" Giles sat at the end of the school library
table with a steaming cup of tea. Buffy looked down at her own cup.
When did she ask for it? She shook herself just to centre into the now
and here.

"Sorry, I was just... I'm sorry." Her nose nearly dived inside the cup.

"I was saying that I've..., you know, working on a spell... Just to
find out who was behind the Angel... - Willow paused for a little but
no flinch manifested in her friend's attitude – thing and big news are
that the traces... the traces of energy... a spell requires certain
amount of..."

"Willow! Just say it, okay?" And let me think what I'm going to do to
fix all this mess I'm into...

"Okay, I'm absolutely sure the Mayor had something to do with it. Or at
least someone who works around him. The location spells are accurate.
Can't fail. Well, unless is performed in a very bad way but..." Willow
nodded at Buffy's intense gaze. "The traces that went out from Angel's
house went straight to the City Hall."

Buffy gulped her tea. Maybe that man... 'Allan Finch... His name was
Allan Finch and I won't never forget it...' Another song of the
soundtrack. Maybe he knew something... Maybe he was going to snitch his
own boss? Had to do some research. Had to know why that man had been
there, so close to a pair of Slayers... Spying? Watching them? Trying
to fill his boss in about their routines? Only one way to know she
had... Breaking into the City Hall. Find out... Easier said than done.
If the Mayor was behind the Angelus outbreak... Better go with
someone... As support...

"So we know who might be behind it but we don't know how it was
performed." Giles bent over the table to grab a thick, green volume.
"I think this might help. I've received them this morning – he blew the
dirt from the cover and a thin cloud of dust made him cough – and this
here is the most powerful and archaic grimoire I had the chance to
achieve since I've arrived here. Of course, it's not the only one and
it'd help if we'd have at hand the impressive library..." Two pairs of
eyes were sneering at him. "Perhaps you want to study it, Willow?"          

 

Spike sat at Finch's desk chair as if he were the owner of the place
and were about to call somebody to bring him a cup of blood. One of his
boots heels tapped the wooden surface with an annoying bit.

"Can't you just stop doing that?" Buffy shut one drawer so hard that
she almost crouched down for a second waiting for someone to appear.

"Just when you tell me what's getting your knickers in such a twist.
Spare me the I'm the Slayer and this bloke in here was eeevil..." He
made a mockery of claws with his hands.

"I've told you..." The words strangled in her throat when a sudden
flash of black and silver spread her onto the desk. 

"You've told me a bunch of shit."  The tip of his tongue came out from
his lips like the nose of a pink, tiny mouse. "Now, will you please be
so kind to tell me?" That soft tone could have probably won William's.
For a shaking, fleeting second Buffy pictured him with glasses.

The facts escaped from her mouth before she had time to mull over the
matter. A long, breathless speech that made the blue eyes grew wider
than flat piñatas.

"Well – Spike sank back into the chair. A wry smile danced on his lips
– that's news worthy! A murdering, nutty Slayer on the loose! If you
see her call the coppers! Don't try to do anything! She's bloody
dangerous!" Buffy straddled his lap as her hand half stopped his
guffaws.

"If you don't shut up, I'll gag you!" She promised casting a quick,
nervous glimpse to the door. "It's not funny! I was there!"

"Promise about the gagging...?" His hips thrust slightly upwards.
"Okay, let me enjoy it for just another second." He closed his eyes.
His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as he muffled another laugh.
Buffy forgot she was angry. In that moment, she'd liked to hug him and
kiss him as if they were in a desert island. Powerful feelings those
he'd raise with only one stupid laugh. "That's it. Now, what's the big
deal of you being there? Is not that..." Something in her eyes brought
him to a halt. A worried shadow. A shocked shadow. As if she wasn't
worth anymore. "You are. Worth it, I mean. You didn't do it, pet. Just
had the bad luck to be there with her. It's not that somebody is going
to believe that crazy bint if she's delusional enough to frame you..."

"But what if...?"

"If... I'll bite her. And whoever believes her. Right now, I think we'd
leave. Have wasted too much time and there's nothing here anyway."

 

"What's a Slayer without a watcher?" The Mayor asked bending forward on
his desk. His fingertips touched each other as though he was holding an
invisible sphere. "Did you know, this is really funny, that her
watcher's great granddaddy was the keeper of the books that will help
my ascension? It's said that he kept other things as well. Powerful
things. Extraordinary things. The Devil Stone. Siva's sceptre. Among
others." His gaze was lost between his fingers.

Angelus paced slowly along the office, lifting every object and turning
them in his big hand as if he was picking something in a gift shop. "I
wouldn't mind to take care of Giles..."

Wilkins' giggle caught his attention. His fingers clutched a crystal
globe as though he was considering its potential harm.

"And turn it into a failure again? Mr. Spike is around again, isn't he?
No, this must be performed... I wonder if this Watcher knows about the
sceptre... Maybe it's hidden somewhere... Of course, he wouldn't answer
if we asked him, would he? He's a tough guy after all. You know that."

"We could steal it." Angelus put the crystal orb on the shelf again.
"We could steal it from the keeper himself."

"I'd really like that. It would be really poetic. Do you know what
happens to a human being when time is severed? When certain things that
should have happened are erased from the time slate? They vanish.
Simply as that. Intriguing thing." The Major leant backwards. His eyes
veiled for a second. An idea was swimming in them, so clear that
Angelus could almost read it in the constant movement of the dark
pupils. He liked the forming plan. He really liked it.

"We've got more important things to deal with right now. This little
witch... She is close. Very close to know about the Vessel."

"Willow?" Angel snorted with disgust. "She is a novel, little brat.
Can't do anything..."

"That's not what our warlocks have said..." The Mayor swung a finger in
the air. "Again, the same question. What's a Slayer without a Watcher?
What's a Slayer without her personal witch? That who casts the spells
the Slayer needs for certain tasks..."

"What's a Slayer without his personal demon? A traitor who helps the
one who he is supposed to erase?" Angelus added with a wolfish grin. He
liked the idea. Oh, yes. From this beginning to the exceptional end.

"There's a problem, though." Wilkins stopped his twisted contemplation.
"There are two Slayers."

"I might have some helping news..." Demons chatted. Rumours travelled
in the night as hidden spectres. "I've heard one of them has been
naughty... Have crossed certain boundaries... Maybe I could... talk her
into... joining us? As protection, naturally. She'll be expelled. Or
convicted in far, far, England. Yeah, I could try..."

"Admirable inspiration." The Mayor grin was a white brick wall. "I knew
having the best of all times by my side was going to be an
extraordinary attainment. You and me will rule this world, my friend.
And others, of course. We'll be able to choose which keep and which
throw to the trash can of the Universe."

 

Buffy peeked out the hall before stepping out into it. Suddenly, Spike
grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the office. They spied
through a crack of the door as The Mayor walked out from his own
office, his hand resting on Angelus shoulder. Spike stepped back to a
window and opened it slowly enough to avoid any crack. They both jumped
to the street and didn't stop running till they were six blocks away
from the City Hall.

"So little Red was right, ah? The bloke has been behind this all the
time." He lighted a fag and took a deep drag. "Wonder what he needs
that bleeding ponce for..."

"Stopping the world? A massive, hellish apocalypse? Releasing a green
toxic fog to raise all the dead of the world for eating our brains?"
She teased waving the smoke out of her face.

"Watching too much TV, blondie? Guess I haven't been around enough,
then." He snapped the fag away. His arm held her waist, pulling her
closer. "I agree with the apocalypse thing, though. This will be
massive, that's for sure. He wouldn't have jumped into it for another
piece of stone."  His tongue licked one corner of her mouth. "It must
be more than an ordinary apocalypse. Guess he was promised the world or
some rot like that" His lips glided along her neck.

What? Apocalypse? World? Buffy was beyond words. She just wanted him to
keep on doing that for the years to come. Even if the world exploded in
that very second. Her hands grabbed his red shirt just to deepen the
kiss. "Yes, maybe... I have to stop..." Her hips swayed against his
like a kite in a lurid sky. "Have to stop... them."

"What colour is it?" His hand cupped one ass-cheek.

"Hmmm?" She nibbled his earlobe.

"Your knickers. What colour..."

She pulled back a little. "Why? Are you starting a private
collection?" Her eyes widened in surprise. That smirk... "You are!
I can't believe what a perv you are!"

"Oh, come on, honey... You love it. Admit it..."

"What I'm going to admit right now is that we've got to go back to
Giles and brief him." She brushed off the hands that were trying to
seize her. "Willow is working on this spell... If they find out..."

"Okay. Don't want to spoil your duty fun." His hands disappeared inside
the pockets of his duster. Buffy dared to take a quick glimpse at him.
Pouting. He was pouting. That sexy, irresistible lower lip of his was
jutting out for her to bite it. She wasn't going to. No way. A
murdering Slayer and a serial killer at large was more she had ever
expected to find in her more than demon-crowded path. No pouting or
malicious look would possibly make her forget...

"Stop!" She whirled round with her hands on her hips.

"Are you completely out of your top? Haven't done anything here!"

"Playing the fool is not your best suit, Spike." She started walking
again, her back rigid as a wall. "And before you say something
idiotic... first we have to talk to Giles. Then... we'll see."

"Thanks for the encouragement, pet. And for the crumb." He mumbled
lightning another cigarette.

"I heard that! This... it's only a game for you, isn't it? Can't you
see what I'm dealing with here? I saw somebody like me killing a man!
It'd be me! I'd have done it! It isn't something that I can talk freely
about... I have to give her away and somehow I... feel sick about it."
She finished in a low voice.

"But you didn't do it. You bloody didn't! That loony bint did it and...
what do you think? That she wouldn't tell if it'd be otherwise? Or
what? This isn't only about her? Is that beloved Peaches of you
what...?"

"I don't give a damn about him, you sorry, silly vamp! I only want
him out of my way! How can you say that when all I've done is hurling
myself at you in... Forget it" She threw out her hands with a furious
movement.

"You have...? Hurled yourself...?" Spike trotted behind her trying to
peer at her face through gold strands of hair. Finally, when it was
more than obvious she wasn't going to stop pelting along the street,
he yanked her coat to make her stop. "Talk to Giles. Talk to the whole
sodding Council if you want. Only an hour. 'Cause after you are done
with the talking I'll shag you so hard that you won't be able to talk
till next year. Got it? Now, let's find that bloody Watcher of yours."

He grabbed her wrist and nearly dragged her towards Giles' house
without further words. She didn't need any. Her heartbeat was so loud
that she didn't need vampiric ears to hear it. Running, that was it.
Running and that horror meeting show at the City Hall. Couldn't be for
that simple, arrogant and uncouth promise of him. She found herself
wondering if there were any clocks in Giles' flat...

 

Little black dots waltzed in front of his eyes life diminutive dwarfs
wrapped in dark cloaks. Xander was drowning in a choking whirlpool and
blackness was starting to blur Faith shape. He should have taken
Buffy's word. She knew how to deal with weirdoes. She had learnt to
known if somebody was only screwing with your brains. If somebody was
using you... So how in hell she was seeing that bleached freak? He was
dying and he still had time for that... Lack of oxygen... Why in hell
hadn't he heard Giles advise? He'd promised not to go alone to confront
this murderer Slayer but no. He had to cross his fingers behind his
back as a spoilt child swearing not to curse again. Idiot! Before he
fainted he took a glimpse of a dark shape at the threshold. Maybe the
angel of death had come for him. Maybe some angel of aid. He needed
some aid. He'd have welcome Spike's help itself in that moment. His
head fell on the pillow with a quiet thud. 

"Is that your best show, Faith?" Angelus stepped inside the room
walking straight to the bed. "Hmmm. Lousy. I mean, that child is not
a real challenge..."

"What the hell...?" Faith leapt from the bed, reaching the stake she
had left on the bedside table. "How did you...?"

"Entered? Well, don't need an invitation in a public, cheap motel like
this." His arms reached out in a rush. The stake was suddenly waving in
the air between two of his fingers. "You certainly should work in your
style. It sucks, really." His gaze made a quick jump at Xander's
figure.

"You think I need that to kill you?"

"And that's how you thanks me for my help..." He threw the stake to
a corner walking back to the door. "You see, since there are so many
people interested in... locking you up, I said to myself... 'Hey, maybe
she needs somebody to protect her.' He went out for a second and came
back dragging a suited man by one foot. "You know, since they could
probably want to commit her in some kind of Slayer asylum... far away
where she will never see the..."

Faith rushed to the door and peeped out. Four more men were lying on
the floor under the dim lamp of the porch. "So, who are they?"

"I could say some sort of Council welcome party. But of course, I can't
be sure..." He dropped the man to the ground and kicked him out of his
way. "If you want to stay here and ask to the next bunch..."

"What do you want?" She asked without taking her eyes from the pile of
humans spread at her feet.

"I thought we could make a deal. A trade better said. You killed Allan,
our Mayor's best friend..." His laugh had a mocking ring. It never lit
his dark eyes. "So there's a vacancy. I'm offering you to take it. What
do you say?" He shortened the gap between them.

"With the Mayor. You worked for the Mayor..." It was her time to laugh.

"Not for. With. We could be... friends. Have some fun..." Angelus
cornered her against the doorframe.

Faith mulled over his words for a moment. Of course, they'd come back
for her. Not once or twice but hundred of times if she didn't flee away.
She was used to that. Running away had always been some sort of karma in
her short life. This offering... something in it sounded so tempting.
Using her power to make a difference. No matter which one. No one would
judge her, or lecture her about morality and how little good girls sat
with their legs appropriately crossed and remained chastely mute when
gentlemen spoke. She'd be her own master, her own watcher and her own
rules maker. With the extra bonus of a wild, handsome vampire to screw
every night she might feel lonely. Bet B. knew something about that.
If not, why in hell she's screwing one at that moment? She knew the
answer to that. He was gorgeous. He was hot and powerful and surely
as hell she'd never be able to find someone that could match her in
a better way.  Her eyes finally left the Councilmen and climbed to
Angelus' face. He might not be Spike but he'd do... At least for now...
"Sounds really interesting..." Her fingers traced his jaw. "May we start
now?"

 

tbc...


CHAPTER 8
 

The only sound that filled the Mayor's office was a beating one as if
somebody had forgotten an opened tap. Three pair of eyes were fixed to
a monitor as the security camera tape showed Buffy and Spike skulking
through Allan Finch's office. The image made a leapt and showed them
walking out of it only to step backwards. Wilkins cursed and knocked
the monitor. It buzzed like a dying bee.

"Damn thing! It's not funny if you can't listen to what they are
saying!"

"The chat is not important. They have seen us and now they know..."
Angelus stopped his fingers dance on the desk.

"They knew it before that." The Mayor shook his head and sighed as
if the whole thing was extremely boring. "You didn't pay attention to
the witch part, did you? She knows... Had followed the traces of the
Vessel. They all lead to this place. I think it's time for our next
plan. I really want that sceptre..."

"What plan? And may I add what sceptre now that I'm at it?" Faith's
eyes never left the frozen image in the monitor. That damned bitch!
Always snooping around. Bet she had gone there to look for something
she could use to incriminate her. A proof... She rewind the tape and
stopped it just when Buffy was straddling Spike's lap. His face had a
seductive gleam that made all the lights in the office looked opaque
and dreary. What in hell a hottie like that was doing with and obvious
dull, killjoy creature like Buffy? Faith's fingertips outlined Spike's
frozen picture. She should have known how to gallop that one... He
looked like one who would really enjoy some of the games, no... all
the games she would have liked to play with him. "What...? Sorry,
you're saying?"

"Why don't you brief her while I talk to my... advisors?" The Mayor
spat Angelus' shoulder. The vampire didn't notice it. He had seen Faith
drawing her hand from the screen as if she had been caught stealing
something. Spike's smirk slapped him from the screen. "We are going to
have an extraordinary party! I can't wait!" Wilkins sang before
disappearing into the hall."

 

Buffy limped towards Giles's door dreaming of a hot bath and a pair of
strong, big hands to ease the stiffness in her right leg. A bubble bath
was out of the question. She hadn't time for that luxury. Fantasies
sucked sometimes. What was the point in having them if you couldn't put
them in action? The disgusting, sticky and stinking splodges of her
ruined coat begged for a trashcan. A rush of insults and a too loud TV
set welcomed her as soon as she opened the door. She walked towards the
sofa where Spike was half sitting; half crouched yelling as a madman at
the screen.

"You could have come..." She screamed just for him to advert his eyes
from the TV.

"Where?" Only one blue eye left the monitor.

"Patrolling with me."  Stupid attempt that of hers. As if a drenched
girl could possibly compete with a football match.

"And watch you while you dust my mates? No thanks."

She nearly sat on the couch but leapt to her feet when she realized
about the horrible mess her jeans would probably made if that smelly
grey slime got in touch with the velvet surface. Giles would shout till
next summer or he would make her rubbed it over and over again just to
get rid of the gummy stains. "It's my job..."

"Well, yeah." He was merciful enough to turn the TV down. "But that
doesn't mean I'm going to sit in the first row and clap. Now, shut that
pretty mouth of yours, ah pet?"

"I'm taking a bath..." And bye, bye fantasies. Of any kind. It wouldn't
hurt if she tried, though. "Want to help me?"

"Ah?... What?... Later..." A caveman could have probably known how to
speak better.

She was getting really angry now. No wonder he hadn't wanted to wait
at her own house as Giles had asked. Her mother wouldn't have let him
watch that... Who was she kidding? Of course she would have let him.
And maybe she'd have even bought a six-pack only for him.

Standing in front of the TV she made her last attempt.

"I can't understand where is the fun in watching twelve guys running
after a ball."

Spike swayed from side to side trying to catch a glimpse of the match.
He looked at those stupid dog toys with a spring in their necks. "They
are not twelve. They are twenty-two. Now please move." He jumped from
his seat, his hands on her shoulders and his chin on her entangled
hair. "YES!!!"

Buffy flinched and squeezed her eyelids shut. Boy, he had destroyed
her ears! But he had said yes... With a quick flick of her wrist she
grabbed the remote control, turned the TV off and threw it away. The
plastic device landed on the table with a not too pleasant thump.

"NO!!! Bloody hell, woman! Why have you done that!?" Spike lunged to
the table, jumping over the sofa. "We're under by two and we're about
to kick a soddin' penalty. Bollocks! I'm going to rip your throat
out!" He yelled from the floor where he had fallen after his boot had
got stuck in the carpet.

"That means you're going to take a bath with me?" Buffy looked at him,
leaning over the back of the couch. He was really pissed off. A louring
look. Dark, threatening clouds running in his eyes. "They are black.
Lace, actually. With these beautiful red silk ribbons tying them up at
the sides..." She teased backing towards the bathroom as he crawled on
the carpet. Grunts rumbled on his chest and she couldn't tell if he was
playing or he was really going to kill her. "But, if you don't want
them... Ahhh!" She cried when he leapt from the floor and raised her
to one of his shoulders, kicking the bathroom door.

 

"Willow, are you done?" Giles locked the padlock that kept his special
and forbidden books out of inexpert hands. Willow had learnt quite
a lot since last year... He shut out the reasons. Too painful. Yet,
he had a new chance now. An opportunity to take... He shut out that
thought as well. A resounding explosion made him whirled around.
A bright white light blinded him for a moment.

"Wow!" That was Willow's voice. She was fine, then. Giles's heart
didn't take notice of it. It continued trotting for quite five minutes.
"Have you seen that? Giles! Have you seen...? Are you all right?"
Willow helped him to get to a chair.

"I saw it before it blinded me." Giles rubbed his forehead with his
handkerchief. "What was that?"

"Well, as you know I've been searching some other traces of energy.
They are so helpful to understand the hidden meaning of spells!
Remember the one that lead us to the woods? It taught us something
really interesting..."

"Willow... To the point, please. Buffy and Spike are waiting in MY
house and I still have to live there." It never stopped to wonder
him how he could sound so casual about that particular topic. He
hadn't forgotten his last confrontation with that unbearable demon.
He still had nightmares where he woke up with fangs and big ridges
over his forehead.

"Okay!" Willow bent over the table. A big Sunnydale map was spread
on it. It had a little hole in one section. A thin line of smoke
still waved from it. Willow blew it and smiled foolishly at Giles,
hoping the light hadn't burnt a matching hole on the table. "The
warlock they summoned for the Vessel... he is back. But he's not
alone. They have performed a terrible spell there." She pointed
at the map hole. "Maybe right now."

"What?" Giles pushed up his glasses and leant over the table.
"Right now? What have they done? Do you have any clues?"

"Well, not sure about it. Maybe not right now but this morning
or yesterday night. The energy is still buzzing in there. I can
tell you. And for the what they have done... Maybe a portal. It needs
a huge amount of energy to open one. I know." She nodded proudly.
"But I have this feeling it was something else... It's in the docks...
We could... check?" A gleaming spark shone in her green eyes. She
had worked so hard in getting better and better in this strange,
powerful and mysterious subject. It wasn't as Maths or History
where all you have to do was use your brains and study hard for
the next day. She liked that. But she liked this even more. It
gave her some sort of power she had never had. Made her special.
Open new doors full of surprises and wonders. And, in a way,
it was like studying History. Every single king had had a witch
or a wizard to consult before each battle. They didn't even move
a finger if the stars didn't say so. And who read the stars?
People like her...

"Have you found anything about the Vessel? How it works? Because
these books you have asked for are very powerful and I don't want
to..."

"Oh, yes!" She grabbed some papers and an old book. "I'm not going
to tell you the whole tale 'cause I know you want us to be all
together but... I've been chatting with this friendly girl from
Bulgaria... Have I mention she is from a coven? I wonder if I... Yes,
yes. I know. She told me some Greek monks kept the Vessel in a temple
somewhere near Turkey. Yes, - she explained when Giles frowned, -
'cause it's said that it was Hermes Vessel. The flask was the
container in which he carried the souls to the Underworld."

"The monks gave it to... No, of course, - he sighed at her mocking
look, - it was stolen. But if it was used to... Then Angel soul is
trapped in it!"

Willow nodded cheerfully. She was so good at this! "All we have
to do is destroy it. Well, find it and destroy it. Well, not
only destroy it... There's this spell... more like a ritual... But
first I think we should check this hole?"

Giles gathered the books and walked out of the library. A ritual...
It didn't sound that simple. Looking at a more than eager Willow
didn't help to ease his doubts. She was so young... He didn't want
her to be harm in anyway.  Her skills had improved in ways he had
never expected, though. And that mere fact filled him with a primal
fear he didn't understand. He took mental note of watching her
closer. Put some limits. Some boundaries. She shut the door of the
car with a strange smile dancing on her lips. Yes. Limits. Before
it could be too late.

 

Fantasies had their own way to get real. Bubbles weren't sailing
on the water but inside her veins. Million of bubbles, small, big,
crashing around in her blood while Spike's tongue traced her inner
thighs, his teeth nibbling them like a delicious snack, his
fingertips running like tickling fairies along her waist. Buffy
was a puddle of bubbles spread on the sofa. She knew she had to
do something. Important. Something that had to do with the clock
or the fact that it was late. Her wet hair shed little drops of
water on the green velvet. On her forearms stretched over her head
just for her hands to clutch the arm of the couch. Something flew
over her head like a teasing mosquito. An elusive thought.
Something she should be worried about. Something... he did know how
to make her forget about everything... His tongue suddenly plunged
into her hot core and the thought scurried from her mind like
a mouse looking for shelter. She pushed herself downwards, moaning
and wriggling and a piercing sound was filling her ears; his big
palms lifted her round ass and the noise started to knock the walls
as if the mouse had turned into a shrilling big rat. Her back
arched with every circle his tongue drew inside her. Her fingers
sank in the sofa while he lapped her with urgent strokes and his
fangs scratched one of her thighs. His mouth sucked deeply and
she exploded in shaking, trembling spasms that left her limped
on the couch.

"The bell is ringing, honey." He said among giggles and she tried
so hard to understand the words. They seemed to float by her like
the thought that had return to tease her... Buffy sat with a jerk
and ran to the bathroom flinging her stained clothes on. Giles...
How on earth could she have forgotten about him? She went back to
the living room, a little flushed, a quick glimpse at the clock
said it was twelve thirty and Spike was lolling about as if his
legs weren't made of rubber as hers were and where were Giles
and Willow?

"We thought they were here. I went to the library to pick her up
but there was nothing there..." Oz sounded really worried.

"Only a map with a hole." Xander avoided Spike and opened a door
cabinet. He found a cookies bag and was about to crunch one when
he caught Spike's raised eyebrow. Turning round he leapt on the
sofa scowling at the vampire with extreme disgust. Spike's smirk
grew wider when Xander fidgeted on the damp spot Buffy's hair
had left on the velvet.

Buffy frowned; a question sketched on her forehead. What was so
important about a map and a hole? Sometimes she couldn't get
Xander's remarks.

"Yes, the docks." Oz asked to Spike's question. Obviously, he
had made sense of that insignificant issue. "I wanted to go there
first 'cause I know Willow..."

"We should go then." She looked at Spike. No further words. He
put his coat on and stomped outside to get his car.

"I'll follow you in the van." Oz hurried after Spike.

"Xander... why don't you stay here in case they come back?" Buffy
disguised her order behind a begging voice. Last thing they needed
right then was an annoying friend and an annoying vampire darting
insults and male ego to each other. So different from Oz... Maybe
it was some sort of demon bonding... Vampires, werewolves... A matter
of skin. As distorted as it might sound.

 

A big rat dashed between Buffy's boots making her jump with a shriek.
God, how in hell could she possibly be so frightened about those little
creatures when she had seen tons of different and dreadful beings in
the last years? Getting closer to Spike she looked at the next
warehouse. A lamp covered in dust lighted dimly the narrow street
filled with dustbins, pissed old newspapers and card boxes. The
bulbs of the street lamps had been smashed long ago. One of the
posts was bent to the ground as if a lorry had hit it.

"Sure this is it?" Buffy asked peeping through a hole in the wooden
door. After finding Giles's car, they had checked three warehouses
with no results. Spike's smelling powers were not at full tilt.
Strange and scary. She didn't even want to consider what could
possibly be the cause of it. Had him in an uneasy, jumpy mood.

"I can't be bloody sure, can I?" He raised his head; his nostrils
quivering as he tried to tell apart the mingled scents of old dog and
human urine, piles of rubbish and something that underlie... deadly
nightshade and myrrh. Water, stagnant water. As though they were all
standing at the edge of a filthy moat filled with rotten meat and
putrid fish. Deeper, there was blood and fear. And underneath he could
still pick up his grandsire's scent but faded as a bad memory. Above
all, the humming chimes of malignant power that had his skin twitching
with sickness. This wasn't good. He had never felt this way when it
came to sodding spells. But the whole warehouse seemed to be expecting
them to enter just to phagocyte them as a huge carnivorous plant from
hell. As though behind that same ordinary, scraped door he could find
hell itself waiting to hang him from a hook and torture him for all
eternity. He was damned sure that Angelus' torturing sessions would
have been a walk in the park compared to those who waited inside that
house of horrors. He was about to beg, yes, beg Buffy to turn round and
run as fast as she could when a strident screech cut the air better
than a cleaver. She opened the door and jumped inside before he could
stop her. "Oh, fuck, woman. I only wanted you to be safe. To let me
confirm this horrible hunch and let you now." Instead of shouting it
aloud, Spike stopped Oz with a sharp movement of his hand.

"Stay here, mate. Whatever you hear just stay here, okay?" If he could
have sweat he would have been a fountain by then. "And if we don't go
out in one hour... get a torch and set the whole docks on fire." He
commanded before rushing after Buffy with his undead heart stuck in his
mouth.

 
tbc...

CHAPTER 9

 
It was dark. Dark and cold and...damp as if he was sliding on an ice
lake in a winter night. The scents were stronger here, all mixed-up
with other odours added to the foul blend. Yellowish chinks of light
came through the rifts in the distant, wooden ceiling but never
reached the floor. Little, tiny, as remote as stars from a nebula.
Unconsciously, Spike began to breathe in short, desperate gasps, as
he couldn't find any trace of Buffy's scent or hear her footsteps.
The damned placed seemed to have eaten her alive.

As he went further into the place, avoiding big wood boxes and piles
of frayed thick ropes, another perfume invaded his senses. Opium. He
rubbed his nose with the back of his hand feeling he had gone back in
time. To those opium slums from his earliest weeks as a vampire when
the new world he had begun to cherish had shown its first unpleasant
cracks. Something in no way he wanted to live again. Something he had
erased from his memories with each and every throat he had gorged from.
His body began to ache as in those awful nights in which he had lay on
a bed, bestrewed over it as flowers on a grave. Wilted and dead like
them. Used and discarded like them. He shut his eyes for a long moment,
the gasps turned into choking wheezes when he felt the lewd hands
pawing him, the fingers and the tongues...

"STOP!" He shouted with a shudder of repulsion. "Don't breathe, you
pillock. Just don't breathe." He stumbled and fell on a pile of twisted
wires. Cold, long and... slippery? He jumped to his feet, frenetically
scouring his palm against his black jeans.

"Bloody hell! If only I could see a buggering thing! And hear...
I can't... What the fuck is going on? No sight, no smell, no ears
as if I had become a useless human... BUFFY!" He yelled, fear for her
starting to choke him better than the snakes that glided on his boots
and his calves.

A potent electric current pierced his spine and Spike staggered around
a few more steps before he crumpled up in a knot of shaking flesh.
Something caught his wrists. Icy and solid. Spike closed his eyes.
Numbness swallowed him with a greedy gulp.

 

Buffy blinked furiously, beseeching the drummer in her head to stop
the painful hymn. She managed to open her eyes and scanned the place.
Grubby, grey walls and long iron bars which crossed the ceiling in
complicated patterns. A tattered, brownish curtain hung from one of
them dividing the place in two. There was a mouldy stink, like that
she sometimes smelt in one particular cemetery. Dead rats and who knew
what else left to rot inside open holes in the earth. Her arms and her
ankles ached for being chained to some hooks in the wall. She looked
down and found herself naked.

"Shocked?" Buffy lifted her eyes sharply. Angelus' obscene gaze
ran along her body. "I've found out that nudity is so related to
vulnerability. At least with the prude ones." One of his fingers
circled one of her nipples. Buffy shook with revulsion and spat his
face. He cleaned the little line of saliva with a merciless smile.

"And I thought that Watcher of yours had taught you some manners...
Speaking of whom..." He snapped his fingers and the sound ricocheted
in the empty space as a bullet trying to find somewhere to hide.

The dirty curtain was drawn with a sharp noise of clattering rings
showing two hooded men tied up to metal chairs. Buffy felt the air
running away from her lungs. That was Giles's grey suit. And his
light blue shirt. Torn and smeared with blood. Clenching her teeth she
stabbed a grinning Faith with her eyes. If only she could free herself,
that lousy bitch would know how it could be possible to grin with her
butt. After she had shoved each of her teeth up her sorry ass. Faith
lifted the black hood and Giles's battered features slapped Buffy
better than a blow from Angelus. She swallowed hard, steeling her heart
at the dreadful sight.

"You know who that is?" Angelus pointed at the other man. He looked
like a faceless dummy. "Of course not. Nice trick that of vortexes...
Help you get everything you want. And I wanted him. Your Watcher's
great grandpa. Say hi."

"And all this time I thought you're after something important..." Her
voice was made of ice. So were her eyes. Buffy had a brief second to be
proud of herself.

"Good!" Angelus clapped and cackled noisily. "Spike is a very good
teacher, I reckon..." A fugacious disgusted spark twinkled in his dark
eyes. She wouldn't have seen it if her gaze hadn't been glued to his
face just to avoid Giles's pulped one. "But this guy here is something
else... He's the Guardian of magnificent treasures. Powerful treasures.
I could have killed him back there and vanished Giles for good but it
would have spoilt the fun, don't you think? You wouldn't have the
chance to see it. So I decided to give you the first row and the only
ticket to watch Giles vanishing in the thin air. But first..."

He yanked her head backwards, forcing a flask to her lips. The green
liquid seeped from the corner of her mouth as a strong rosemary scent
made her nostrils itched. An agonic stream of pain rushed through her
body when Faith prodded her with something like a taser. Buffy couldn't
help the scream. The bitter brew ran down her throat making her cough.

"Good girl..." Angelus patted her forearm like a caring father. "Now
we've to wait. This is the worst part but don't worry. It'll only take
five minutes."

"To do what? Don't tell me that your smart brain could only thought of
poisoning me." Buffy found out that sarcasm was the best way to make
the fear recede. Spike was a master at it. Maybe he was just for...
Nah. He was never afraid. But maybe he... She wasn't going to wonder
about him right now. 'Cause if she did, her heart would explode like
a neutron bomb. 

"It's a memory elixir. See, time is such a mysterious thing. If I kill
this man, then not even Giles's father could exist. So, there would be
no memories of him. And you don't want that, do you? No, I don't want
it either. The funny thing is you're going to be the only one who will
remember him. And you will try so hard to convince everybody that you
haven't lost your mind that they'll probably send you to those... how
do they call them? Yes, mental institutions to... clear your head.
Enough talking. Let's the show start."

"That won't happen..." Something horrible was menacing to shatter her
guts. A painful, twisting, steeling knot as if they were moulding in a
new shape.

Faith jabbed her ribs again and this time the air really escaped from
her lungs. "Shut up and watch." The bitch ordered with a cheerful tone.

Angelus fangs got near the immobile man's neck, his scornful yellow
eyes never leaving Buffy's white face. After what seemed an eternity he
finally pierced the flesh. The man didn't even flinch. He was fainted,
apparently. Judging by the mess his clothes were in they had probably
beaten him even harder than the poor Giles. Blood painted Angelus'
chin, his lips, the tip of his nose as he guzzled with agonizing
slowness. Buffy tossed down her tears when the man finally fell to the
floor. Her frantic, lunatic eyes hurried to Giles. The most amazing
and atrocious thing happened. Giles's shape began to die away. It grew
thinner and thinner till it finally disappeared with a faded chime.

"And now..." Angelus straightened himself doing nothing to clean his
face. "He is gone." A sinister laughter reached her numbed ears. Buffy
struggled against the chains but they didn't give way an inch. "And for
that sorry vampire of yours...I could do the same to him but, you know.
Family and all those things. Not to mention Faith here seems to have
got fond of him." Buffy swore her face had changed into a twisted mask
of rage. Not even a demon could have revolted its features the way she
did.

"Oh, don't be so worried, B. I promise I'm really going to take care of
him. Think I'm going to keep him as my pet. He's such a yummy treat!"

"Yeah, he's a beautiful toy, really." There was something so cruel and
pungent in that remark. Buffy fixed her eyes on his and she actually
saw the reason to it. A harsh rush of bile knocked her palate.

"Why are you doing this?" She turned away her gaze and focused on
Faith. Sarcasm had flown away. Only her torn, opened flesh as if a gang
of hellish lions had mauled her.

"Oh, you mean 'cause I'm the Slayer and all that crap? Joining the dark
side... Well, it's so much funnier!" Faith bent forward and kissed
Angelus' smeared mouth. "You should try. Seriously. It'd help you to
relax a little. I mean, such a body and so wasted..." Her stained lips
crushed Buffy's.

Frenzy sobs and quivering flesh. That was all she had been reduced to.
There wasn't even room for pain. Only a freezing numbness as that you
had after being stunk by a wasp. An overwhelming pain at first and then
nothing. "What have you done to Willow?"

"As a matter of fact, she'll be Spike's cell partner. For now, of
course. We've only got one single mystical cage. So hard to get those
things..." He grabbed Faith's waist and pushed her slowly towards a
door. Suddenly the lights went off and in the darkness Buffy's puking
sounded like a volcano. Chains evaporated as an iron gnome and she fell
to the floor, on her own vomit, curled against the bulking shape of
Giles's great grandpa. 

 

First thing Spike was aware of when he came to his senses again was the
powerful light from a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling by a black
cord. A little dazzled, he raised his eyes. His arms were stretched
over his head; his wrists shackled and chained to an iron bar that ran
along the room. He wriggled against them but the shackles chafed his
skin as if they were daubed with garlic.

"And all these years I thought I'd taught you well. But you are the
same weak tosser, aren't you Willie? One blow and you're out." Angelus
finished his cigarette and crushed it on the floor never leaving the
plastic chair he was sat on.

"Says who? The soul wanker? Always hiding behind the Slayer's
skirts..." He snorted loudly, fighting the stinking tears in his aching
eyes. He hadn't even smelt the sodding bastard. 

"Yes, the Slayer..." Angelus stood up. His dark eyes were gimlets.
"I should kill you right now. After all, you've been poaching on my
territory..."

Spike's eyebrows were birds ready to take off from his forehead. If he
hadn't been manhandled it could have been amusing. "It's not your
territory anymore, mate. In fact, I doubt it ever was."

"Well, I was the one who popped her cherry, didn't I?" He expected some
kind of wild reaction from his grandchilde. He didn't get any but a
muffled giggle.

"Oh, yeah, hot shit. Wait, I thought it was that ponce Dr. Jeckyll of
yours who did that. You just showed your ugly face when it's all over,
didn't you?" The smack split his lips. Spike gathered the seeping blood
with a quick flick of his tongue. "A great puff like you wouldn't even
know how to pop an eye out of his own bloody face. Unless they were
berries... That's your real stuff, ain't it gooser? Or is it angel?" He
blew him a kiss but he spat a thin thread of blood instead when another
clout broke his nose.

"Why isn't he naked?" Faith came into the room, patting her leather-
clad thigh with a lightning rod. Spike frowned at her tone.
Disappointment? Bloody unbelievable.

"Maybe 'cos that little trick doesn't work with me anymore..." The
answer was only directed to Angelus. Suddenly, the hidden implications
of the phrase kicked in. Buffy... Only a twitching muscle in his neck
told about his rage.

"We'll see about that, hottie..." Spike gawked at Faith's hand sliding
along his chest. Oh, bollocks! A loopy, horny Slayer! He'd have
welcomed that a year ago. Right now it was rather pathetic.

"Well... gimp, - Angelus laughed at his own joke, - my advice would be
that you chilled out a little. Enjoy our camp here. You'll have plenty
of time. Till one of us get bored of you."

A nauseating tremor ran along Spike's skin. Flashes from the past
threatened to fill his mind but he locked them out with every cell of
his brain. He had to focus on Buffy. Found out what that fucking sod
had done with her. Trouble was that he couldn't just ask, could he?
He knew what would be the exact answer to one of his questions. Some
laughter and another slosh.

"Now, I need something from you..." Angelus stabbed the crook of his
left arm with a syringe. When he was done he stepped back a little
rolling the damned thing in his long fingers. "Faith here is going to
take you to your rooms, Willie." He began to walk away and stopped as
if he had changed his mind. "Oh, and in case you wonder... she is
alive..."

Spike didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified about the news.
He chose the second one. A hot single tear sprang to his eye and he
gulped it quickly. He would get free. Oh, for all the demons in hell
he would. He would rip that fucker's balls and make him eat them along
with his shaft if he dared to put one of his hands on his warrior.
And while he was at it, he would enjoy a brilliant, succulent dish.
Slayer's blood springing from the source itself. Faith torn neck served
in a silver plate for his own pleasure.

 

The clank of the heavy shackles pounded against the walls all the way
to his new home. A shining metal cell. Tons of light spots hanging
above it making the metal bars glittered as if they were made of
crystal. His eyes screamed inside his head but he never stumbled. Last
thing he wanted was one of that bitch's hands on him. He turned round
as soon as the door was shut behind his back. The bitch ordered him to
stretch his hands to the bars. The shackles disappeared leaving wide,
blistered gashes on his wrists. He had been right. Garlic. His precious
boots looked like if they had been gnawed by rodents where the iron had
been.

Squinting painfully, his eyes swept the place. There was a cot on the
left with some kind of bulking shape under a shabby, brownish blanket.
Another one was resting against the back wall. A grey blanket with
jagged edges was spread on it. Great, at least he could be able to find
some darkness under it since the sons of bitches had stolen his coat.
Spike walked towards the shape. Didn't even bother to sniff. His
nostrils were loaded with an electric smell... Like ozone... As
lightings in an open field. The whole damned place twitched with such
energy that even his skin trembled. Carefully he raised one corner of
the blanket. A red strand of hair shone on a dirty white pillow.

"Red!" He muttered tossing the blanket aside. "Red, talk to me love.
Red!" He shook her but Willow didn't respond. He threw away the pillow
and took her in his arms. Her head rested aimlessly on the puncture of
his arm. Made him wonder why they needed his blood for. It wasn't that
Peaches had turned into a barmy boffin, had he? Speaking of whom... The
dark figure of his grandsire loomed from outside the bars. Blurring and
even more disgusting due to the lack of distinct shape. A red thing
gleamed against the door of the cage.

"Thanks for giving me your blood so willingly, Spike. It will be your
locking key for good. Which is rather poetic, isn't it? Well, you
should know. Poet..." His mocking laugh rang in Spike's ears for a long
time. Yes, poet... He'd show that bastard what kind of poems he'd write
with his guts... Bloody beautiful poetry. Yes... Bloody beautiful...          

 

Oz had waited one hour. One hour and fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes...
He was going for the torches. Three, four, a hundred torches to put the
rats to run away. He had just reached the corner when a heavy thump
filled the air. He ran back only to find a curled Buffy on the floor.
She was wrapped in something black which looked too much like Spike's
coat. Oz's knelt, panicked. "Buffy! Buffy! What happened? Where is
Willow?" He screamed staring at the closed door.

"I'll kill them, I'll kill them." It was the mumbled chant that went
out her lips even after they reached Giles's house. The house that
should have belonged to a man named Rupert Giles.

 

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