Chapter Nine
The small group of friends made their way into the Bronze, separating in three opposite directions almost immediately. Buffy and Willow had made their way to the dance floor, and were now happily dancing and laughing with each other. Xander and Cordelia grabbed a table, stealing kisses when they thought no one was watching. Apparently coming out of the supply closet didn’t make their public displays of affection any more public. Spike had headed to the pool tables, not realizing Oz was right behind him. It wasn’t until he had turned to take his first shot that he saw the boy, holding a cue and staring at him inquisitively. *Slipping in your old age, Spikey.* he had told himself when he hadn’t felt Oz’s presence. The vampire had merely shrugged a shoulder and waved a hand in the direction of the table, indicating the wolf set them up.
The game went on in silence, and Spike was pleased to find that Oz actually knew how to play. Of course, he would have been a might pissed if they were playing for money. But, since that wasn’t the case, he could enjoy himself.
He leaned his hip against a stool and sipped his beer while Oz took his shot. His eyes roamed around the club, a smile curving his lips when he saw Buffy and Willow. The red head looked adorable in her purple, long sleeved t-shirt and overalls. Her russet colored hair was twisted into a thick braid, and she was devoid of make up. Buffy herself had gone for casual, changing her blue jeans for a pair of black ones and a dark blue tank top replaced the plain white t-shirt she had on earlier. Her golden hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had only opted for lip gloss. The two girls were still dancing, Willows movements not as sure as Buffy’s, but it was still apparent that she was having fun. To Spike, that was all that mattered. He wasn’t one for dancing himself, unless it was a slow song with a beautiful woman in his arms, or a mosh pit.
Oz came over to him, to tell him that it was his turn. He looked in the direction of Spike’s gaze, and, something that could only be called a smile on Oz, crossed his face. The blonde looked over at the wolf, and noticed with some surprise the look on the boys face. The two exchanged a look, before Spike rose to line up his shot. Just as he was pulling back to hit the ball, an odd tingling started at the base of his spine.
He slowly raised his head, trying to pinpoint where the feeling was coming from. Oz watched the man, who had been relaxed and smiling a second ago, turn into predator before his eyes. Every muscle in the vampires’ body tensed, and he raised his head as if sniffing the air. Oz reached out his own senses, knowing it wouldn’t be of much use in his non-wolf state. But every little bit helped.
Spike looked at the multi-colored haired boy and rose to a standing position. They both put their cues on the table, turning so their backs were angled towards each other.
“Get the rest, and get them out of here. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it. Tell the Slayer to stay with you, and I’ll catch up.” Spike told him, turning to melt into the crowd. Oz turned and made his way to Willow and Buffy.
“Hey, wolf boy.” Xander called as he passed them. “Got tired of busting balls with the man/ vamp?”
“God, Xander. That was lame, even for you.” Cordelia said, rolling her eyes.
“We gotta split.” Oz told them, before moving on to the girls. They didn’t ask why, just got up and went to follow him. Willow and Buffy were still dancing, but once they saw the small group coming towards them, they stopped.
“What up?” Buffy asked when they reached them.
“Gotta go.” Was all he said, draping an arm across Willow’s shoulders.
“Why? Where’s Spike?” The Slayer looked around the bar, feeling slightly panicked when she couldn’t see him.
“He wants you to stay with us. He’ll catch up.” Oz watched the play of emotion cross her face and knew before she did what she was going to stay.
“No. You guys go. I’m going to find him, he might need help.” Buffy’s chin was set with her decision.
“But, Buffy. Maybe you should trust Spike on this one.” Xander implored.
“I’m the Slayer. Any bad things are my job. Now, you guys go, and I’ll call you later.” Buffy pushed past them and forced her way through the crowd.
“Well, that went well.” Xander muttered as they turned to leave.
“Maybe. . . maybe she’s right. She is the Slayer, and it’s her duty to slay, things. Ya know.” Willow said, not really convinced herself.
“Yeah, and she knows so much more than a genetically altered, century old dead guy.” The brunette said as they walked out into the night.
“He’s not dead.” Oz reminded him.
“Whatever.”
“Should we stick around? What if they need help?”
“Will, if the peroxide wonder man, and Buffy can’t take care of it, what the hell are we gonna do?”
“I don’t know. I could do something witchy.”
“God, could you guys be anymore pathetic?” Cordy asked, throwing her hands up in the air. “They won’t need us. Geez, we’re the normal friends, the ones that always get put in the way of danger so the super hero types can come in and save us. If we try to find them, some big ugly is going to attack us. I say, we go home.” The other three stopped and looked at the Prom Queen.
“Okay.” They said, and continue down the street.
Spike prowled with purpose through the crowd, and out through the service entrance. He could smell the man now, and he reeked of Council.
*A little quicker than I expected.* he thought to himself. He paused in the alley, closing his eyes and focusing on the direction his quarry went. The sound of the music receded as he concentrated, as did the smells of teenage bodies grinding together, and the dankness of the alley around him. His eyes snapped open, and his head whipped around once he felt the person he was looking for. With a low growl, he shifted into his demon visage, and moved on silent feet towards the man.
Spike neatly dodged the bully club that was aimed at his head, grabbing the arm as it swung at him again. With an audible crunch, the wrist in his grip collapsed in on itself as he squeezed. The club fell uselessly to the ground.
Cold, yellow eyes met shocked, pain filled brown ones. The man in his grip was as tall as he was, with a dark complexion and thick black air and brows. His face was slightly rounded with youth, and his body was well muscled. His clothing was all black, save for the blood red t-shirt under the leatherjacket.
“So, the Council sends children after me now? I think I’m insulted.” Spike asked, his tone deceptively mild. His fingers tightened a fraction around the mangled wrist, eliciting a muffled grunt from the would be assassin.
“I’m not here to engage you. Just observe.” He told him in a strangled voice. Spike had driven him to his knees, and he stared in to the face of a devil, trying desperately not to lose control of his bowels.
“Well, I never cared for being ‘observed.’ I’m shy.” The blonde answered, sarcasm dripping from his clipped British tones. “What’s your name?” He growled, squeezing ever so slightly.
“Bryce.” He ground out, paling with the pain singing up his arm.
“Well, Bryce, what am I being observed for?”
“To see if you would take care of the Slayer. Aug.!” He screamed, as Spike whipped him off the ground, never releasing his hold on the mans wrist. Tears of pain fell unnoticed down his face, and black spots danced behind his eyes while Spike drew him into a vampires’ embrace. He had been warned not to be noticed, that Spike was dangerous and would not take kindly to being spied on. Bryce had been sure to be careful, but, apparently not careful enough. He felt his panic escalate as the cool breath of the vampire brushed against his throat.
“You tell that pillock, Travers, that if he sends anyone after me or the Slayer again, I will personally come to England, and rip his throat out. Then, I will do the fucking lambda while his blood drains from his cold, dead body. Understand?” Another cry of pain accompanied the frantic nodding of his head. “He best remember who he’s fucking with.” Spike mumbled, more to himself, than the man in his arms. Then, just to drive the point home, Spike plunged his fangs into the mans throat, drinking the thick, coppery substance with relish. After two swallows, he released the now unconscious man, and let him slump to the ground. He kicked the prone body with contempt, before a horrified gasp caused him to turn around. Cursing inwardly, he observed the wide, stunned eyes of the Slayer. They were currently skittering between the unconscious man on the dirty pavement, to the still gold eyes of the vampire.
“What. . .I. . .I was worried,” she stuttered, not sure what to make of the scene before her. She could hear the mans heart beating, steady and strong. But, for some reason, that didn’t settle her suddenly upset stomach. She turned her gaze back to him, watched him stiffen as he read the accusation in them. He stared back at her, unrepentant in his demon face, blood staining his lips. He drew himself up to his full height, his anger rolling off him in waves. He would not crumble under her judgment of him. He’d told her getting involved with him was a mistake, and here she was, proving it. He ignored the stab of pain in his heart as he stalked over to her.
“What’s the matter, pet?” He snarled, glowering down at her. “Don’t like seeing what I am? Tough, this is it. I take care of things by whatever means necessary. If it involves a little blood, than so be it. My life isn’t pretty, and neither is what I do. I tried to warn you. YOU pushed. It’s up to you what you want to do about it.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the alley. “You know where to find me when you decide.” He called over his shoulder, as he left in a swirl of black leather and cigarette smoke.
Buffy watched him go, feeling her heart break with each step he took.
“Hi, honey.” Joyce said as Buffy walked into the kitchen. She immediately noticed the far away look in the girls eyes, and the stiffness in which she walking. “Honey? What’s the matter?” She watched her daughter move mechanically around the kitchen, pulling out a mug and a bag of blood.
“Buffy?” Joyce stepped in front of her, and took the mug out of her hand, and set it on the table. She then took the blood as well, directing Buffy to the stool. With the love of a mother, Joyce cut open the bag with the kitchen shears, and poured it into the mug, then set it into the microwave. She then turned and waited for Buffy to tell her what was wrong.
“I saw Spike feed from a human tonight.” She started, her voice calm. Joyce felt fear slam through her.
“What? Why? Did he kill them?”
“No. After he left the alley, I looked for the guys wallet. He was a Council member. You know, when you say they are card carrying, you don’t really expect them to be. That’s just supposed to be an expression, right?” Buffy rambled, “I’ll have to ask Giles if I can see his.” Joyce stared uncomprehending at her daughter.
“Buffy, what are you talking about?” The microwave dinged, and the older Summers’ pulled the mug out and set it in front of the Slayer. Huge, hazels eyes blinked up at her, the look in them breaking her heart. She reached up and cupped her daughter’s cheek.
“We were at the Bronze, making with the fun. After an hour, or so, Oz comes over and tells us we have to leave. Spike’s nowhere around. He had told Oz that I should go with them. But, what if he’d needed help? I couldn’t’ just leave him there with no back up. I’m the Slayer, it’s what I do,” Buffy stopped and sipped at her mug, forgetting her usual embarrassment about feeding in front of anybody. Even her mother.
Joyce shook her head a bit when she realized what had happened. Spike had sensed danger and sent the others out of the club, but, Buffy being Buffy, went looking for him. And when she found him, she didn’t like what she saw.
“When I found him, he had this guy in a death grip, his back against Spike’s chest. I know what the position means. My first instinct was to stake him. Can you believe that? But, he was whispering something to the man. Before I thought to eavesdrop, the conversation was over, and Spike’s fangs were in his throat. He didn’t take very much. The guy passed out from fright, and Spike dropped him. I was just so, shocked. I didn’t know what to think. He hadn’t killed him, but he could have. It scared me.”
“You say this guy was part of the Council?” Joyce asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Yeah.” Buffy put the drained cup back on the table, and looked up at her mother. “Why? What does that matter? He was still human.”
“Oh, honey. The world isn’t so black and white.” When all she got was a blank stare, Joyce sat down and took her daughters cooler hands between her warm ones. “Look at you. You’re a vampire. Granted a vampire with a soul, but a vampire just the same. What if that’s all that Spike saw? Where would you be now?”
“Probably clogging up a vacuum somewhere.” She replied in a soft voice.
“Nice image, but right. He didn’t kill you. And he probably had no intention of killing that man. Spike went against everything he was taught to spare you. Just like you went against everything YOU were taught to love a vampire.” Buffy looked at her mother, wondering when her mother got so smart.
“Yeah, I guess. And he did mention that the Council would be coming after him.” She admitted.
“I figured. Honey, he has had some rough times, and from what you told me before you left, you told him his past didn’t matter. What he was didn’t matter.”
“And the first time I have to face it, I wigged.” Buffy slapped a hand against her forehead, cursing her stupidity. “Well, I think I just failed ‘Girlfriends 101.'” She said with a snort.
“It’s okay. I’m sure he’ll let you take a make up exam.” Joyce drew Buffy into her arms, rubbing her hands soothingly down her back.
“I guess I need to go talk to him.” She said, her voice muffled against her mother’s shoulder.
“It would probably be a good idea. Do you want me to drive you?”
“No. I don’t want you to be out after dark. Even though Angel should be laying low, I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Alright. You be careful, too.” She let go, and stroked Buffy’s hair away from her face.
“I will.” Buffy rose and put her mug in the sink, then went to go out the back door.
“Call me if you aren’t coming home.” Her mother told her with a knowing look. Buffy was again glad for the lack of blushing ability. She mumbled a hasty okay, them scampered out the door, Joyce’s amused laughter following her out.
It didn’t take her long to find him. There he was, same spot, tower of shot glasses in front him. Willy cast nervous looks in her direction, unhappy that she was gracing his establishment during it’s high time. Ignoring him, she crossed the floor and sat next to Spike.
“Slayer, so good of you to join me. Come to rip my heart out again?” He asked, not turning to look at her.
“No. I came to apologize.” She told him, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm. She bit her lip when he stiffened, and moved away ever so slightly.
“What for?” Another shot went down his throat, the glass added to the tower.
“For acting like such a twit in the alley. I was just, surprised.” She admitted. Her unneeded breath caught in her throat when he fixed his hot, blue eyes on her. She cringed a bit at the pain she saw in them.
“What do you want, pet?” he asked, sounding defeated. He had just spent the last hour kicking himself for getting his hopes up over her. He had decided that if she didn’t show up, he was going to take care of Angel AND Dru as soon as the sun rose, then shake the dust of Sunnydale off his boots. He would find the smallest, most remote place in the world to hide from the Council and the memory of her, then proceed to drink himself into a coma.
“You. All of you. Not just the pretty part. I want the good, the bad, and the ugly, the real you. I’m sorry, for the way I reacted. It’s hard to forget that I’m not the Slayer anymore.”
“You’ll always be the Slayer. It’s just part of who you are. I’m not that noble.” He said, throwing some money on the bar. He knew he was done for the night. She was here, apologizing. And that was what he wanted. He wasn’t stupid enough to let his pride muck that up.
“I don’t care. You’re noble enough for me.” She told him, offering him a shy smile. He played his fingers down the side of her face, smiling himself when she turned into his hand.
“Come on, luv. Let’s get out of here.” He ran his hand down her arm and grasped her hand, pulling her off the stool. Her bright smile caused his heart to twist as they turned to leave, hand in hand.