Chapter Five
“Hello?”
“We have a problem.” Spike growled into the phone.
“And what is that?” The man on the other end of the line sipped delicately on his brandy, waiting for Spike to continue.
“She has her soul.” Travers waited a beat before answering.
“And how is that a problem?” He asked in a cold voice.
“Did you hear me, you ponce? SHE. HAS. HER. SOUL.”
“I heard you, and I still don’t see what the problem is.” Spike’s blinked a couple of times, while his mind tried to grasp this knew development.
“Which means she’s not evil.” He felt like he was talking to a five year old.
“It doesn’t matter. The threat is still there. She must be destroyed.” Travers’ voice never wavered as he spoke. He could have been ordering tea for all the emotion in his voice.
“What threat? If she’s not evil, and she has both Slayer and vampire powers, she could be a great asset to the cause.” Spike tapped an unlit cigarette against his knee, a deep sense of foreboding settling into him.
“May I suggest that you do the job you were sent there to do, and let those better suited worry about the moral implications.” The blonde flinched like he had been slapped.
“Bastard.” He hissed.
“Might I remind you, William, that you also retained your soul, and you spent half a century doing the very things we are fighting against. The threat that she will do the same is to great.” Spike felt the well placed barb pierce his heart, and guilt blossomed through him. “Now, I trust that we understand each other, and don’t call me again until you have completed your task.” The next thing he heard was the click of disconnect and the steady hum of the dial tone. He replaced the receiver as if on auto pilot, his eyes staring blankly at the wall.
They still wanted him to kill her. That thought bounced around and echoed in his stunned mind until he was sure he would go crazy with it. Everything he had been taught, everything THEY had led him to believe, were lies. HE was nothing more than a hired killer, created to destroy what they perceived as a threat. But what threat, is what Spike couldn’t figure out. To the world, or to the Council? Gods, he needed a bloody drink.
Pushing himself off the bed, he pulled on his duster, tucking the unlit cigarette behind his ear. Pulling open the door of the hotel room, he stalked out into the day.
Buffy’s footsteps echoed hollowly throughout the wet interior of the sewer tunnel. She was sure that Giles and her mother would be having a coronary once they discovered she had left, but she just couldn’t sit still. Every time she tried to close her eyes, Spike’s stricken face danced behind her eyelids. It had been three days since they had seen the blonde, and she wanted to see him. Her mind kept telling her that it was because she had to know if he was still out for her blood. But, the tiny voice of truth told her it was because she had seen a kindred spirit within the vamp/man. Both their worlds had been totally turned upside down in the past week or so, and maybe they could help each other.
Her nerves were raw from worry. About her friends, her mother, Angel. Fresh tears flooded her eyes, blurring her vision as she tried to blink them back. Would it ever stop hurting to think of him? She knew, that her Angel was gone, and it his place was the sadistic master vampire he had been before. Guilt suffused her system at that, the knowledge that it was her fault weighing heavy on her heart.
She was also afraid. He had been awful quiet over the past few days, and she was sure that he was planning something. He wouldn’t give up on getting her back, and she shuddered to think what he would do to her once he did.
Sighing heavily, she pushed herself up through the sewer access under Willie’s bar. Maybe the snitch knew what Angel was up to. Or maybe how to find Spike.
What Buffy couldn’t know, was that Angel had been too busy dealing with Druscilla to even think about her. The vampiress had been wailing for five days. Exactly the amount of time it had been since Spike left the mansion. Angel couldn’t say he cared where he was, but Dru was slowly driving him as mad as she was.
Right now she was lucid, her pale, naked body spread across the red, satin covered bed. Her hair was covering her delicate features as she traced odd patterns on the sheets.
“I want him back, my Angel. So we can be together again.” Her crystal eyes raised to his, for once wiped clean of madness. IT was in moments like these that Angel actually got nervous around her. She was dangerous, he had made her to be. He remembered vividly WHY he had made Spike in the first place. To be a distraction for Druscilla. He could only handle her part of the time, but Spike. . .Spike had the magic touch when it came to her. Maybe he would find out where he had been hiding himself and bring him home for Dru. That way, he could concentrate on getting the Slayer back, and punishing her for her disobedience. A pleasant tingling started in is groin as he thought of all the things he would do to the little blond girl.
With a feral grin, he walked to the bed, pinning Dru beneath him.
“Don’t worry, Dru. We’ll find him.” She cooed in pleasure, her hips thrusting to match his violent movements. Clawed fingers gouged into flesh, blood staining the red sheets darker as they bit, clawed and fucked each other to orgasm.
Buffy paused and studied the line of the blondes back, not wanting to approach just yet. He was sitting at the bar, building an intricate tower of shot glasses. A bottle of tequila sat by his elbow, a cigarette smoldered in the ashtray. She exchange a glance with Willy before starting to slowly walk over.
“What can I get for you Slayer?” Willy asked, wiping out a glass with a towel. He was more than happy to serve her during the day, when none of his usual clientele was in.
“Nothing, Willy.” She answered, sliding into the stool next to Spike. She studied his profile, while she waited for him to acknowledge her. Seconds ticked into minutes as she watched him pour another shot, down it, then add the glass to the tower. She was amazed that his hand was still steady after counting the number of glasses he already had stacked.
She was so intent on watching him, that she nearly didn’t hear him when he spoke.
“Have you ever believed in something so completely, and in the course of twenty four hours, have it turned on it arse?” he asked her, not looking at her. An ironic smile tugged at her mouth.
“Yeah. The day I was called.” He snorted in response, nodding his head slightly. Then he turned to her, the look in his blue eyes intense.
“What can I do for you, luv?” She was struck immediately by how haunted he looked. His hair was mussed, she assumed from the agitated passing of his hands through it. He looked like he hadn’t slept since he’d disappeared through Giles’ door. The ashtray was overflowing with cigarettes. And the tequila bottle was nearly empty.
“I just wanted to see if you were okay.” The look that crossed his face would have made her laugh, if it weren’t for the implications behind it. It struck her, then, that nobody had ever cared how he was doing.
“Why should you care? I was sent here to kill you.” He asked her, his scarred eyebrow raised.
“Under false pretenses.”
“Yeah. Seem that’s all my life is about. False bloody pretenses.” Pulling the pour spout off the bottle, he drained it. Buffy cringed as she watched the amber liquid disappear down his throat, and got totally grossed out when he chomped the worm.
“You, know, drinking like that is going to kill you.” she said, her eyes telling Willy under no circumstances was he to put another bottle on the bar. Spike snorted and lit another cigarette.
“Can’t.” He said, releasing a plume of smoke from his lungs.
“Can’t what?”
“Die.” Her eyes widened a fraction, disbelief written clearly across her face. He let out a bitter chuckle at her expression. “Part of the mojo they worked on me, luv.” He looked away from her, and stared at the silver lighter he was sliding through his fingers. He raised his cigarette again, blowing out smoke rings. “They still want me to kill you.” He told her quietly, keeping his eyes on the lighter.
“Willy! I need a drink.” She called, her gaze never leaving the blondes profile. A smirk touched Spike’s lips. He knew the feeling. They sat in silence as Willy set another bottle of tequila down in front of them. Buffy didn’t even think as she poured a shot, than downed it, immediately choking as the foul stuff slipped down her throat.
“People actually LIKE this stuff?!” she gasped around her coughs. He gave her a genuine smile, thinking she looked awfully cute in that moment. Her face was scrunched up in disgust, and her eyes were watering, but he thought she was lovely.
“It gets the job done.” he told her. She gave him a look that said, ‘uh-huh.’ But she poured herself another shot. This one went back a bit smoother, now that she knew what to expect.
“Are you going to?” She asked him, adding her shot glass to the tower.
“No. I’m going to sit here and get good and snookered. Then, I’m going to go back to my motel room and pass out.”
“What about after that?” He turned back to her, his eyes squinted against the smoke.
“You weren’t the only one I was sent here for.” Her brows drew together in confusion. Then, her mouth gaped open in shock as she realized what he was saying.
“Angel.” she whispered, feeling her heart twist again.
“Angelus.” he corrected.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel a bout that.” she raised a shaking hand to her forehead, blinking back more tears.
“I don’t either.” This whole soddin affair was making his head spin. When he had blown into town, his mission was clear. Take out the turned Slayer and the newly unsouled Angel. He hadn’t counted on Dru being here, or Buffy still having her soul. Or Buffy being so bloody beautiful. He didn’t know what he was going to do. The Council didn’t like it when their puppets started to think on their own. He’d seen them do many things over the years to keep the Slayers in line. But he had turned a blind eye and kept on with his part of the deal. He was such a fool.
He knew, technically, they couldn’t kill him. He shuddered to think at what they COULD do. Just cause he couldn’t die, didn’t mean he was immune to torture. Or mind games, as his time with Dru could attest.
Shaking off the thoughts, he turned back to her. He studied the fading bruises and cuts, and tsked in disgust.
“What?” she asked, pouring another shot. She was thinking his idea of getting trashed was a good one.
“He didn’t make it fun, did he?” He waved a hand at her face.
“They.” she whispered.
“What’s that?”
“They.” She downed the shot, only grimacing a bit this time. “Angel and some loon named Druscilla.”
“Dru did that to you?” he didn’t know why it surprised him. He knew what she was capable of.
“Yep.” she titled the bottle yet again, this time pouring him one as well.
“What are you doing?” He asked, when she set the shot in front of him.
“We’re getting snookered.” His eyebrow shot up as he watched her toss it back with no problems. She looked over at him, her eyes reflecting the pain and confusion he knew was mirrored in his own. Nodding once, slammed his down, taking the bottle from her to set them up again.
“Willy, keep it coming.” He called, as they clinked glasses, then proceeded to drink themselves into oblivion.
A tortured moan escaped Buffy as she slowly came awake. Her head felt as if it would
explode at any moment, and her tongue felt fuzzy and too big for her mouth. Groaning, she shifted a bit, freezing when she felt the unmistakable presence of something hard and male between her legs. With a concentrated effort, she forced one eye open, whimpering at the light. Turning her head as slowly as she could, she looked down at the peacefully sleeping blonde below her. It would seem that she was sprawled, naked she realized, on top of Spike. Too sick to be embarrassed, she simply closed her eyes and listened to the faint, but steady heartbeat emanating from his chest. It took a minute for her surprise at this to pierce her hazy mind, but once it did, she sat up with a start. A yelp of pain and shock jolted him awake, and they both noticed just how intimately they were joined.
“Pet?” he started, settling a hand on her hip to steady her.
“Yeah?” she winced as her head throbbed again. She gasped when she felt an answering throb in her sex. When he was asleep it was easy not to be embarrassed. But now, with his hot blue eyes piercing hers, she was sure if she still had the ability, she would be crimson.
“How did we. . ?” He waved a hand between them, indicating there position. She bit her lip and averted her gaze.
“I don’t know.” She answered, her voice small. How much of a loser was she? She’d just had sex for the second time in her life, and she couldn’t even remember it.
“Well,” he started, then stopped. He, for once, had no idea what to say. It wasn’t every day he woke up with a beautiful woman, and then didn’t remember a bloody thing about it. He must have been slipping in his old age. “Uhm, luv? Could you. . .I have to go.” He pointed towards the bathroom. If possible, her eyes got even wider, and she scrambled off his body. They both groaned as he slipped out of her, the feeling of loss immeasurable. With a wry grin, he stood and strode the bathroom, comfortable in his nudity. Buffy was glad once again that she couldn’t blush when she caught herself sneaking a look at his lean, chiseled form.
As soon as the door closed, she shot off the bed and started searching for her clothes. She shoved her legs into her jeans, while trying to get her head through the neck of her t-shirt. She was just shoving her arm in when she heard him return to the room. She whipped around to face him, nearly losing her balance in the process. He was leaning on the frame, an amused smile curving his lips.
“Not rushing off, are you, luv?” He straightened and walked over to her, helping her pull the shirt into place. Then he reached down to grab his jeans and slide them on.
“I. . Uh. Look, I just wanted you to know, I’m not some sort of, you know. ..” she stumbled over her words, refusing to look him in the eye. He stopped her by placing a finger under her chin and lifting her gaze to his.
“I know.” Was all he said, before dropping a kiss to her forehead. She blinked at him, thoroughly astounded at his action. He chuckled a bit before moving to pick his duster off the floor in search of his cigarettes. “I’m just sorry I don’t remember.” he told her. The look he gave her made her knees melt and she found herself wishing desperately for any snippet of memory herself. When she realized she was staring at him, she shifted her eyes away. When they fell on the clock panic broke through her embarrassment and residual desire like ice water.
“SHIT!”
“What?”
“My mom is soo going to ground me.” she grabbed the phone and frantically started to dial. She had been incommunicado for fifteen hours.
“Hello?” her mom’s strained voice said over the phone.
“Hi, mom.” Buffy tried for a happy tone, only to lose it as soon as her mother spoke again.
“Elizabeth Anne Summers. Where the hell are you?” She demanded. Buffy’s heart sank and her headache screamed through her. Her mother NEVER used Elizabeth. Unless she was really, really pissed.
“I’m with Spike.” she said, holding the phone away from her ear a fraction as her mother yelled in response.
“What?! Why? And doesn’t he have a phone? Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? Angel left a little calling card for you, and when you didn’t come home or call. . .”
“Mom, mom. MOM!” Buffy cut through her mothers’ tirade. “What did Angel leave?”
“A box, I thought it was flowers, so I opened it to put them in water.” She heard the slight edge of trepidation slip into her mothers’ voice. “And it wasn’t flowers.”
“What was it, mom?”
“A heart.” Buffy closed her eyes, clamping down hard on the anger and fear that was trying to run rampant through her.
“I’m sorry mom. I won’t let this happen again without calling.” Spike watched her from his place at the table, quietly smoking. *Again?* he thought with a smirk
“Do you want me to come get you? And what about Spike? He isn’t trying to kill you is he?”
“No, he’s not. And no, don’t come. The suns out. I’ll be home right after sunset. Okay?”
“Alright. We will talk when you get home. Don’t think that just because you’re a vampire, I don’t have any say in what you do anymore.”
“You’re right mom. I’m sorry.” She talked to her mother for a minute more, rattling off the phone number in case they needed to get hold of her. She sat staring at the phone after she hung up, afraid to meet his eyes. And here she was stuck in the room with him all day.
“Angel leave a little present for you, pet?”
“Yeah.” She glanced at him then, a little puzzled by his look of sympathy.
“He’s a right old bastard, isn’t he?” She nodded in response, sadness flooding her features. Spike sighed as he crushed out his cigarette. He found himself wanting to erase that look from her face. “Well, luv. Since you seem to be my guest for the day, what should we do?” He smiled at her flustered expression.
“Uh, well, uh.” She stuttered.
“You hungry?” She was surprised to find that she was. Nodding, she offered him a shy smile.
“Yeah.” Standing, he walked to the phone and picked it up.
“How does pizza with a side of blood sound?”
“Really disgusting.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the silly look on his face. He was trying to put her at ease after the compromising position they woke up in, and she found herself liking him immensely for it.
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, sweetheart.”
“Oh, what the hell.” She threw her hands up and flopped back on the bed, cursing inwardly when the world tilted. “Could you add an order of aspirin to the list.” she whimpered.
“Will do.” He made the necessary calls to order their meal, adding a six pack of beer and a bottle of soda to the list.
“They deliver blood?”
“They’ll deliver whatever you want as long as you got the cash.” He told her, reaching for his duster again.
“I suppose.”
“Now, why don’t you go hop in the shower, then we’ll get to know each other a bit better.” She squeaked at the underlying innuendo.
“I meant we’ll talk , luv. I promise, I won’t make any improper moves.” She smiled gratefully and got up o go to the bathroom. “Unless you want me to.” he added, chuckling when she closed the door with a bit more force than was needed. It was going to make for an interesting day, at least.