Chapter 8
“…hide, poor dishonoured mind/who thought yourself so wise;/and much could understand/concerning no and yes:/if they’ve become the same/it’s time you unbecame/where climbing was and bright/is darkness and to fall/(now wrong’s the only right/since brave are cowards all)/therefore despair,my heart/and die into the dirt/but from this endless end/of briefer each our bliss—/where seeing eyes go blind/(where lips forget to kiss)/where everything’s nothing/—arise,my soul;and sing” ~e. e. cummings, “now does our world descend”
Buffy found herself tumbling, head over feet, landing hard. She’d heard Willow calling for help, and had tried to reach her, but the door she’d burst through had led to a room with no floor. “Basement,” she muttered. “I must be in the basement.”
Buffy struggled to her feet, shaking out her skirt. She glanced around, sighing. “Where did Spike get to?” she muttered. “What the hell happened to sticking together?”
“He left you.” The young man who spoke was obviously dead, his head cocked unnaturally to one side as though it had been broken. “Did you really think he’d stick around?”
The Slayer raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me? Do you even know Spike?”
“He’s a vampire,” the young man replied. “What else is there to know? He’s been around for over a century. Not even the Slayer could hold him for long.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” He advanced on her. “He could have anyone he wanted. Anywhere he wanted. One of these days, you’ll wake up and he’ll be gone. Isn’t that the way it always is?”
“Not with Spike.” She sounded like she meant it. Really, Buffy did mean it. This was Spike they were talking about, and if there was one thing Buffy knew about Spike, it was that he always kept his promises. He’d be sticking around.
Still, there was the fear, not centered on her boyfriend, but generalized to everyone she knew. People who loved you sometimes screwed up. Her father being a prime example.
The Slayer was always alone.
As dead people began to come up from the dirt floor, locking their hands around her ankles and skirts, Buffy kicked at them determinedly. She wondered if the zombie-like creatures were real, or if the house had somehow cooked it up. This whole haunted house thing was really beginning to piss her off. She struggled to reach the door in the wall on the other side of the room, finally bursting through, and finding herself in an attic of some kind. It was obviously the room where the party was supposed to be.
Buffy quickly glanced around the room, noting the scattering of people, all of whom appeared to be lost in their own worlds. She spotted Oz first. “Oz? Are you okay?”
Oz shook his head, dispelling some of the fear. He looked at his hands, now completely human, and up at Buffy. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Have you seen the others?” she asked urgently, looking for Spike in particular.
Willow came tearing into the room, brushing at her clothing. “Get them off! Get them off!”
Oz quickly intercepted her. “Willow, it’s okay. You’re okay.”
His calm voice and soothing hands quickly dispelled her fear. She’d lost control of the spell; she’d thought the odd firefly-like creatures were going to eat her or something. “Oz. What happened?”
“I’m thinking a spell,” Buffy replied. “I couldn’t find a way out. The house—or whatever it is—seems pretty intent on keeping us here.”
“And getting us to this room,” Oz observed, looking around at the dazed college students.
They all looked down to see the painted symbol on the floor. As the floorboards rattled and a voice roared, “Release me!” Willow spoke for the entire group.
“Uh, oh.”
~~~~~
Spike went around the corner of the hallway and stopped. Cursing himself for a fool, he turned around, knowing that there was a good chance that what he’d seen was merely a trick, another side effect of whatever spell was on the fraternity.
Besides, he’d never fled from the consequences of his actions in the past.
Closing his eyes as he approached the body, Spike focused on what his sense of smell was telling him, rather than what he seemed to be seeing. He knew Buffy’s smell by heart, and once he focused, he could catch only a faint trace, enough to tell that the body wasn’t the Slayer’s.
Spike’s eyes flashed open, and he knelt by the body. The illusion was gone, as were the marks in the girl’s neck. It appeared that she’d tripped and hit her head, since there was blood on one temple, matting the dark blonde hair. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, disgusted with himself for having been tricked.
He glanced up, seeing the girl who had screamed crouched on the floor, rocking herself slowly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. “Your friend’s going to be fine. She just knocked her head.” When the girl didn’t respond, Spike sighed. “Do you want to stay here?” She still didn’t respond, and Spike rose to his feet, taking a deep breath, testing the air for Buffy’s scent. Both girls would probably be safe enough where they were; he wanted to find Buffy.
Her scent was faint, but clear enough for Spike to catch the trail. It didn’t take him long to get to the party, where Buffy, Oz, and Willow were regarding the symbol on the floor with some trepidation. “Where’s Wesley?”
Relief washed over Buffy’s face, and then her expression turned sheepish. “I’m sorry, Spike. I completely forgot about him. He’s probably in here somewhere, since this seems to be where the house was sending us.”
Spike was about to reply when the roar of a motor sounded. They all turned to see Giles coming through the door with a running chainsaw, Xander and Anya right behind him.
“Giles?” Buffy asked incredulously.
“The walls closed up behind us,” Giles explained, cutting the motor.
Xander looked at the symbol on the floor. “Hey, they were painting that earlier, from that book.” He pointed at an old, leather-bound volume lying on the table. Giles and Willow were soon attempting to decipher the Gaelic describing the symbol and what it was supposed to call up, while Spike scanned the room for any sign of Wesley.
He spotted the man huddled in the farthest corner of the room, his eyes tightly closed, and Spike quickly headed that direction. Giles seemed to have the spell portion under control, and his concern was for his assistant.
“Hey, Wes,” Spike said gently. “It’s alright. Whatever you saw, it’s not real.” He crouched down next to him, laying one hand on his shoulder. “Come on, mate. Open your eyes. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
Wesley’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked at Spike in confusion. “Spike? What—” He looked around the room, realizing that the closet he’d believed himself to be trapped in had been nothing but an illusion. Flushing with shame, he swallowed hard. “Spike, I—”
Reading the man’s expression easily, Spike shrugged. “Fooled me, too. Had me running scared for a bit, and the same goes for the rest of them.”
Wesley nodded, unfolding himself stiffly. “Of course, I—” He looked over in time to see Buffy put her fist right through the painted symbol on the floor. “What is she doing?” he asked. “Doesn’t she know that destroying the Mark of Gachnar will cause the demon to manifest itself?”
Spike’s lips twitched as the demon appeared a moment later, only to be squashed by Buffy’s dainty shoe. “I guess she didn’t get that memo.” He gave Wesley a sympathetic look. “You going to be alright?”
“Of course,” Wesley replied. “It was just an illusion, after all.”
The vampire looked over at Buffy, who was laughing at something Xander had just said. “Yeah. Right. Just a trick of the mind.”
~~~~~
Buffy waited until they were back at Spike’s townhouse to ask him what his fear had been. They had all trooped back to her mother’s house after Gachnar had been stomped, and Joyce had made hot chocolate for the whole gang. It had turned into a fun evening, a chance for all of them to hang out together once again. Since college had started, gatherings like that had become few and far between.
Even the presence of Wesley and Anya hadn’t put a damper on things, at least in Buffy’s estimation. While the Slayer didn’t think she’d ever understand what Xander saw in Anya, she was beginning to get a glimmer of an idea of why Spike insisted on keeping Wesley around.
After a while, everyone began to disperse. She and Spike dropped Wesley off, and then went back to his place. Although dressing up for the evening had been fun, Buffy was just as happy to get out of the dress and into something a little more comfortable, and Spike appeared just as relieved to be back in his jeans and t-shirt.
“So what was your fear?”
“You being dead,” Spike admitted quietly.
Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Wow. That’s…I guess that makes sense.” She frowned as she realized that Spike had probably seen the illusion of her death at least. “How—how did it happen?”
“I killed you. Or I thought I had. Turned out to be a girl who’d banged her head, but that’s what the spell showed me,” Spike said. “If you hadn’t stomped the bastard, I’d have done it.”
She took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “Spike, that’s never going to happen, and you know it. You would never hurt me.”
“I know.” He sighed. “I’m a vampire, luv. There are things—the hunger doesn’t ever go away, you know. You control it, but you don’t get rid of it.”
Buffy moved to straddle his lap. They had settled on the couch, knowing that they would eventually end up in the bedroom, but in no hurry to get there. “I trust your control.”
“At least one of us does,” he responded.
Buffy didn’t reply, knowing that there was nothing she could say to convince Spike that everything was okay, that he would never harm her. After Faith’s poison arrow, they both knew that there might come a day when a difficult decision would have to be made.
It wasn’t something she liked to think about.
She pulled his head to hers, wanting to reassure the both of them at once with the contact.
“What about you?” Spike asked when she broke off the kiss. “What did you see?”
“You were gone,” Buffy said simply.
His brow furrowed, and his eyes searched her face. “Never gonna happen. I wouldn’t leave you.”
“I know.” Her lips quirked in a half-smile. “Stupid fears.”
They didn’t speak again, wanting to reassure one another with act and sensation, knowing that words were not enough.
~~~~~
“Hey, Buffy.”
She bit back an impatient sigh. Why was it that whenever she ended up somewhere alone, Parker seemed to be right there? It was like he had some sort of sixth sense. “Hi, Parker.”
“You drinking alone tonight?” he asked.
Buffy shook her head. “No. I’m meeting my boyfriend.”
“He hasn’t shown up yet, huh?” Parker asked, sitting down next to her at the table. “Is he always late?”
Buffy stifled the urge to smack him. “No, actually I was early tonight.”
She should have gone to the Bronze, but Xander had been starting his new job at the on-campus pub, and Buffy had wanted to show her support. Spike had promised to meet her as soon as he could get away from the planning meeting he’d been in with Wesley and a client, and Willow had a date with Oz at the Bronze. Leaving her to deal with Parker.
“Buffy.”
She looked up to see Riley standing next to the table. “Hey, Riley. What’s up?”
“I wanted to talk to you about the assignment that’s due on Monday,” he replied, glancing at Parker. “Do you have a minute? I know I had to cut office hours short today, and I’m really sorry I didn’t get a chance to answer your questions.”
Buffy gave him grateful smile. “Yeah.” Turning to Parker, she asked, “Do you mind? I really need to talk to my TA about this class if I don’t want to fail.”
There really wasn’t much else Parker could do besides leave, and Riley quickly sat down to discourage him from coming back. “That was the best I could do on short notice,” he apologized.
“It was great,” Buffy quickly assured him. “I don’t know what it is, but he’s always around.”
Riley shrugged. “Parker’s around wherever the prowling is good.”
She sighed. “I think I need to wear a sign. ‘Taken. Please do not approach.'”
Riley chuckled appreciatively. “Yeah, it takes some guys a while to get the picture.”
“It really, really does,” Buffy agreed. Her face lit up as she saw Spike coming through the door, Wesley behind him. “There’s my boyfriend.”
“I’ll take off then.” Riley stood. “Let me know if you ever do need any help, Buffy.”
“Thanks.” She smiled at Spike as he sat down. “It’s about time you got here.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “You looked like you had company.”
“Riley? He’s one of the teaching assistants for my psych class,” Buffy said, waving a hand dismissively. “He was chasing Parker off earlier.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I ought to have a chat with Parker.”
Buffy shook her head. “If he gets too persistent, I’ll smack him,” she replied. “I can take care of myself.” She glanced over at Wesley. “What’s up, Wes?”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Spike suggested I have a drink.” Wesley stood. “In fact, I think I’ll go grab a couple of beers.”
“Make sure you tip the barkeep,” Spike said, watching as Wesley wove through the crowd.
Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what’s up, Spike? Not that I mind him being around that much, but…”
“Figured we could both use the break, and a chance to get out. Wes wouldn’t go anywhere if it wasn’t for me.”
“Good thing he has you,” Buffy teased. She looked towards the bar, watching as Xander scurried around trying to fill drink orders. Wesley waited patiently, hands in his pockets.
“How are classes?” Spike asked, reaching across the table for her hand.
Buffy shrugged. “You know, the usual. It’s easier to keep up now. When is the next big assignment?”
“We leave in two weeks,” Spike replied. “There are two of them, actually. Figure I’ll get Wesley started on the first, and then finish up the second one on my own.”
“Anything fun and exciting?”
“The first is an appraisal,” Spike said. “Wesley’s actually better cut out for that sort of thing. Having him around lets me take a few jobs I would have passed on otherwise. Second is a security gig, making sure no one interrupts a client’s big night.”
Buffy frowned. “What kind of big night?”
“Anniversary. It’s his centennial with the missus.”
She blinked. “One hundred years of being married?”
“Long time, innit?” Spike asked. “‘Course, I’ve known both of them almost that long, so it doesn’t seem so strange. They’re made for each other.”
Buffy appeared thoughtful. “You don’t think of people staying together for that long. I mean, so many people split up, it’s weird to think about staying with someone forever.”
“Forever’s not always a possibility anyway.” Spike’s eyes met hers, and he could feel Buffy’s grip tighten.
The moment was broken when Wesley returned to their table with two pints and another soda. “Sorry it took so long. Xander seems to be having trouble tonight.”
Buffy shrugged. “It’s his first night on the job.”
There was the sound of breaking glass as Xander dropped a tray, and all three of them winced in unison. Spike observed, “It’s probably going to be his last.”
~~~~~
Oz wrapped the mic cord carefully, wanting to avoid tangles for their Friday night gig. The next band to practice was Shy, and he watched as Veruca took the stage to direct her band to their places. The group was playing at the Bronze every Wednesday now, and he and Willow had a double date with Buffy and Spike that night. Oz thought Spike might appreciate the band, and he always enjoyed hearing Veruca sing. Their band had a tight sound that the Dingoes didn’t stand a chance of emulating.
Not that the Dingoes weren’t good, and they were improving. But Veruca’s presence on stage held an animal magnetism that Devon just didn’t have.
Oz sometimes wondered what he was still doing in Sunnydale. He liked the town; it was where he’d grown up, but there was a part of him that wanted to travel, to see the world.
A part of him that knew Sunnydale couldn’t hold the wolf.
When you got right down to it, Willow was what kept him here. Halloween had reminded him that Willow was in danger as long as the wolf was there, however. Oz could control it. He could cage the beast on nights when it came out to play, but there was always an edge of danger, and there always would be.
It was that part of him that Veruca’s voice called to. Something primal, something wild.
“That was a good practice tonight.”
Willow’s voice called him out of his thoughts, and Oz met her eyes absently, his gaze sharpening as she brought him back to the moment. “Thanks. It was okay.”
“I thought it was good.” Willow appeared concerned. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m good. You want to get something to eat?” Oz offered, realizing suddenly that he was hungry.
“Sure.” Her worried face didn’t go away. A little niggling fear had taken up residence in the back of her mind for no good reason. Willow had sensed that something was off, ever since Halloween, and she worried about him. Oz was her anchor. She didn’t want to think about what her fear might mean. “Let’s get something on the way back to your place.”
Willow couldn’t imagine anything between them changing for anything but the better.