Chapter Three
Later that evening, Buffy sat at the kitchen table, eating take out Chinese, and watching the small t.v. her mother had bought before she had died. The too cheerful voice of the brunette, female anchor was grating on Buffy’s nerves. As she stood to turn the channel, the story Ms. Chipper was reporting caught her attention.
“A grisly discovery was made this afternoon, at the 1200 block of Maple Avenue.” Buffy did a mental map check of the address. She frowned a little when she realized it was a suburb on the edge of town, not prone to vampire attacks. The demons usually stayed to the more heavily populated areas, as it was easier to find victims. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the t.v.
“The young woman was 21 year old college student, Sherylin Montgomery. She was found in her home, brutally murdered. Due to the nature of her injuries, the exact cause of death cannot be disclosed. Sunnydale police are urging anyone who had seen Ms. Montgomery over the last three days to please step forward for questioning.” A picture flashed across the screen to show a fresh faced, young woman. Her blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail, her green eyes sparkled with life and mischief. Her full mouth was split into a wide smile to show even white teeth. Her skin was the standard California tan, with high cheek bones, and wide doe eyes.
A shiver coursed over Buffy’s spine as she studied the girl. In some part of her consciousness, she realized their resemblance to each other.
Shaking her head, she turned the t.v off . A knock sounded on the back door, and she turned to answer it, pretty sure she knew who it was. Sure enough, Spike was leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette.
“Hello, pet.” he said, flashing her a grin.
“Hey, Spike. What’s up?” He flicked the smoke away, then stepped inside. She moved away from the door to finish eating, leaving him to close the door.
“Wanted to see if you needed some help on patrol.” His eyes were dancing around the room, landing on her every couple of seconds, before sliding away. *He’s nervous* That struck her as amazingly amusing. Spike, the Big Bad, was as nervous as a boy on his first date. That particular analogy sobered immediately, when she realized that to him, that’s probably what this would be.
Buffy looked at up at him then, chewing thoughtfully. She waited for his eyes to finally settle on her, studying his face intently. She was seeing him completely stripped down, no cockiness, no swagger. No Spike. This was William, staring at her with barely concealed hope in his eyes. This was a side of himself he’d been showing her a lot lately.
Spike shifted under her scrutiny, feeling uncomfortable. The length of her silence stretched between them, causing his hackles to rise.
“Right, then. Guess the answers no. See ya around, luv.” He turned to leave, hoping to retain at least a shred of his dignity, when her quiet voice stopped him.
“Wait, Spike.” Hadn’t she said that last night? He paused, balancing on the balls of his feet, one hand curled around the door knob. He looked ready to flee, rather than be burned by her rejection. Again. She contemplated him a moment more, questioned swirling around in her head.
Could she handle another go with a vampire? Especially ‘this’ vampire. He was a barely contained ball of passion and energy, his emotions fueling him towards whatever he wanted. He was soulless. Technically evil (at least by the Watcher’s Councils standards). He had done atrocious things over the last century. Had his love for her really changed him? Or would he turn on them the second the chip malfunctioned or shorted out?
*Fuck it* she thought. It wasn’t like she was encouraging him, just trying to be friendly to someone who had helped save her sisters life. *Tell yourself another one, Buff.* Ignoring the voice in her head, she smiled brightly at him.
“Sure. The more the merrier.” Buffy then stood, closing the box containing her dinner. “Just let me get my jacket.” She put the box in the refrigerator, then turned to leave the room. She sprinted up the stairs, and bounded into her room, eyes immediately falling on the rose. With a soft smile, she walked over to her dresser and ran a finger over a soft petal. She had dug up one of her mother’s vases out of the linen closet, then put it there so she would be able to see it when she went to sleep, and when she woke up. She hadn’t allowed herself to analyze why she had done it. She wasn’t up to that much introspection. She just knew that it made her feel special, and good. And not in the Chosen one sort of way.
She had even decided not to mention it to Spike. If he wanted to play secret admirer, she’d let him. If he ever mentioned it, she would let him down easy, but she didn’t see any reason not to enjoy it until then.
With another smile, she grabbed her jacket off the bed and left to rejoin Spike.
“Ready?” she said when she met him at the bottom of the stairs.
“And willing.” He purred, a suggestive leer on his face. Buffy just rolled her eyes, then grabbed her keys off the table.
“Come on, blood breath. Evil nasties await.” It was Spike’s turn to roll his eyes as he preceded her out into the warm night.
After making sure that the door was locked, she turned and joined him on the sidewalk.
“Pet. I don’t want to insult your fashion sense, but why are you wearing a jacket with shorts?”
“This coming from a guy who’s worn the same thing for thirty years?” Buffy replied, sliding her eyes over his usual attire of duster, black T-shirt, black jeans and boots.
“Hey, I’ll have you know this look is my calling card.” Spike huffed.
“Uh, huh. If there really was a fashion police, you would have been locked up long ago.” He scowled at her while she laughed, and pulled out a cigarette.
“I recall trying to change my look once. Don’t remember it being too well received, though.” That stopped her laughing, and they walked in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes.
“You were trying to be something you’re not.” Buffy told him quietly, becoming very interested in the chip in her nail polish.
“I was trying to be somebody you would like.” He admitted, clenching his jaw when he was finished.
“I know. But it wasn’t you. And, well. . .I do, kinda. . .like you.” she mumbled the last bit, and he reached out to pull her to a stop.
“What was that?” he asked, exhaling smoke. His face was set in an expressionless mask, waiting. Buffy continued to study her nails, refusing to meet his eyes when she started babbling.
“Well, you know, with all the help. . .and torture. . .Well, I guess. . .” Sighing, she raised her head and looked at him. “Look, I’m not saying that I’m giving you a chance. I’m not saying that this means anything other than what it is. But, it’s kinda hard to hate someone who almost died to protect your sister.” she finished in a rush. Spike’s blue, fathomless eyes studied her for a bit.
“Well, that’s something, then. Isn’t it, luv?” The intensity in his gaze burned into her, and she felt a slight crack start in the walls she had built around her heart.
“Yeah. I guess it is.” They stared at each other for a long moment, than turned to continue walking.
Spike dropped his cigarette and ground it out under his boot. He had turned to say something to Buffy, when his head swivelled back around, something in the air.
“What is it?” she asked, watching him take a deep, purposeful breath through his nose.
“Blood. A lot.” Then, without so much as a glance in her direction, he took off in a run. Buffy was right behind him. Luckily, he wasn’t going at full speed, or she never would have been able to keep up. He ran for about three blocks, past the cemetery where he lived. He then cut a sharp left at the corner. Buffy’s lungs were starting to burn, and her legs were threatening to give out as she pushed herself to keep up with him.
So intent was she on this, she didn’t see him skid to a stop. She plowed into his back, sending them both to the ground.
“Cor, Slayer. What’ve you been eating?” he exclaimed jumping to his feet. He reached down and pulled her up, not noticing the slap on his arm for his comment. He sniffed the air again, then took of once more.
“Shit.” Buffy huffed, taking off after him. When they finally went through the entrance to the park, her heart started to thud for something more than exertion.
*Please don’t let it be kids.* she prayed. She was prepared this time when he stopped. What she wasn’t prepared for, was him whipping around and gripping her arms. His hands encircled her biceps in a punishing hold. When she looked up in confusion, her eyes clashed with his yellow ones. She felt a quick stab of fear before her nose picked up the smell in the air. He was right. Blood. A lot. So much that it tainted the light breeze swirling around them.
“Spike. Let me go.” she said, trying to free herself. They were both panting heavy from the length of their run.
“You don’t want to see.” he told her, tightening his hands around her arms.
“I have to see what did this, so I can kill it.”
“You can’t kill what did this.” he insisted, still not moving. His demon was crawling around inside of him, demanding to partake of the buffet spread out so obligingly behind them. The man in Spike was revolted by what he had seen. No DEMON he knew of would have done what had been done to the poor girl at his back.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, finally breaking from his grasp. He reached for her again, but she evaded him easily. “It’s a little late to try to protect me from evil, Spike.” she told him pointedly. She glared at him before turning to look. A gasp escaped her as she sank bonelessly to her knees. Her hands came up to cover her mouth, holding back the scream that was threatening to erupt from her throat. Her hazel eyes were filled with horror and tears. Nausea rolled through her, as her mind struggled to accept what she was seeing.
The moon light and street lamps combined to make a spotlight on the girl laid out in front of them. Her naked form was posed in a reenactment of the crucifixion. Wooded stakes were driven through her hands and feet, a crown of garlic adorned her blonde head. Her mouth had been formed into the whisper of a smile. Her dead, green eyes stared sightlessly into the starry sky. Her throat had been cut, a jagged imitation of the smile she wore. He wrists had also been slashed, but all this was in addition to the incision that started in the valley between her small breasts. It traveled down the expanse of her upper body to the curls at the junction of her thighs. Particular attention had been given to her sex, which no longer resemble what it had been. Her heart had been removed, and was laid in one of her upturned palms. Every ounce of blood that had been in her slim form was now staining the ground around her.
Hard, ragged sobs tore from Buffy’s throat as she took it in. Then, Spike was in front of her, his black clad body blocking the scene that was forever burned into her memory.
“Pet.” he pulled her from the ground and forced her to walk to a bench facing away from the display. Pushing his cell phone into her lifeless hands, he mumbled “Call the police.” and walked back over to the girl. He stared into her face, his golden eyes picking up the similarities between her and the Slayer. The use of the stakes and the garlic crown struck him as an ominous symbol, as well. Shaking his head, he just chalked it up to coincidence. Raising his head in the air, he sniffed again. Picking past the coppery smell of the blood, and the regular night smells, his sensitive nose homed on another scent. It was faint, but he could tell it was the same from the night before.
It was human, he could tell that much. But there was something odd about it. Turning his head in the direction it seemed stronger, he breathed it in again. He scanned the bank of trees that surrounded the edge of the park. Stretching his senses out, he caught the faint sound of a heartbeat.
*Bastard’s still here.* his smile was predatory as he made ready to take off. He was stalled by Buffy’s tiny, shell shocked voice.
“Spike.” he turned to look at her. She was standing now, staring down at the girl. The cell phone was clutched tightly in her hand.
“Did you call the police, luv?” he kept his voice low, as not to startle her. She looked up at him then, nodding numbly.
“They’re on their way. You might wanna. . .” she waived a hand in front of her face, indicating his still vamped features. He turned his head, seeking the heartbeat once more. Finding it gone, he cursed inwardly. Turning back to Buffy, his face melted back into his handsome human planes once more.
“Pet, come sit down.” He gently gripped her wrist, giving her a light tug. She followed him wordlessly, allowing him to lead her. Sitting her back down on the bench, he settled next to her. A touch of worry furrowed his brow as he studied her pale profile. Her eyes were wide and glassy, staring unseeing at the ground. Her breathing was coming in short gasps and her heartbeat was erratic. Tentatively, Spike reached out to take her hand. He got the shock of his unlife when she practically crawled in his lap and buried her face against his shirt. He leather clad arms banded around her, holding her steady. Whispering softly into her hair, he cradled her against him, waiting for the police to come.