Chapter Eight: One Last Obstacle
A dog barked – the sound continuous and loud and closer with each utterance, but a group of ten or so vampires showed up first. They all had panicked looks on their faces, their clothes were rumpled and torn, and one had a dislocated shoulder that hung unnaturally alongside his body.
Dru turned to them, an unusual calm taking over her features.
The tallest vampire, who had his thick dark hair in a bun on the top of his head, spoke first. “They’re coming. A-and the one with the red hair and her friend? They have some sort of fire spell that they do together that – ”
Dru clapped her hands, twice in quick succession to shut the minion up. “I know they are.” Spike wasn’t sure what she was responding to in the fearful spew of words. “Two witches, two Slayers, and two creatures of a canine variety. Where is everyone else? We had more at our party.”
“Dust. Or on their way to being.”
Spike could hear the sounds of fighting and grunting in the background. The dog was silent, and Spike knew from experience that meant that the poodle was sniffing things out. Liz and a still unconscious Katie were free, released by Clem who had the kittens perched on his shoulders. Liz was hanging back, obviously waiting for Spike to give her some kind of signal whether she should take action. They’d worked together long enough as a group to understand one another, and Spike was never more grateful for that.
Holding Asher close, Spike said with urgency, “Dru, pet, now’s the time to go.”
Dru didn’t even glance at him. “Not until I see her.”
“What do you mean?” Spike gritted his teeth. He wished that just this once she’d not follow a whim.
“Uh, Spike,” Clem said as he hefted the unconscious Slayer in his arms. Her blue-streaked hair was bright against the folds of his arm. “This Slayer’s pretty badly injured. It’s her head, I think.”
Spike took a moment to consider what to do. He had to get Asher out of here, and he knew Clem wouldn’t want to be caught up in the upcoming fray. Plus, now there was a Slayer in need of medical attention. And what about Dru?
“Spike,” Dru interrupted, her voice vulnerable again. “Where is Daddy?” She held up an iPhone that she’d produced from god knew where. She was waiting for him to give her some sort of information.
“Oh, um.” As Spike grabbed the discarded baby backpack, he rattled off Angel’s cell number; Spike only had a few numbers memorized and Angel’s was one – just in case.
Gershwin bounded into the room, hurrying first to Liz. She ruffled the dog’s curls as she sniffed her human all over. “Spike, I’m staying,” the Slayer said, breaking and then snapping off a piece of the discarded rocking chair. She hefted the improvised weapon and slid into a ready stance. Several of the minions turned toward her with snarls moving past their lips. The poodle growled with fierceness in return. “Get Katie and Asher out of here.”
True to man-bun vamp’s report, a fireball zinged past Dru’s head, narrowly missing her and catching another photo collage of flooded streets on fire. Spike caught a glimpse of Stacy – her expression diametrically opposite to her carefree openness when he’d seen her earlier with Oz. Her hand was raised to unleash more magic as a wolfed-out Oz hurtled after her. Emily, the New Orleans Slayer, literally fell into the room as a vampire shoved her viciously into a wall. He exploded into dust a moment later as Liz staked him.
Spike took one last look at Dru, who was moving into the fight, her energy renewed and ferocious. Not long ago, he would have been enamored by her moves, but that was then. Now, he cradled a somehow-still-sleeping son and hurried into the next wing of the exhibition where Clem had gone with Katie and the cats.
Spike ran down a long hall lined with more photos and blank television screens, and when the narrower passage gave way to a final larger room where Clem was waiting, he was relieved to see a familiar red exit sign signaling a way out. He wouldn’t have to use the canoe in the corner to smash open a window. They could just saunter out onto the street.
The only problem was, the door was probably connected to an alarm of some sort. Clem had all sorts of doom and gloom on his face.
“Spike, what’re we going to do? I assume you don’t want emergency vehicles raining down on us with your friends and Buffy doing battle back there.”
Spike lifted an eyebrow and dropped the diaper backpack. “Simple. Put the kittens in the bag, and hold Asher for me.”
“Right.” Clem gently set the injured Slayer against the wall closest to the door and pushed the mewing kittens into the bag, leaving them a gap for oxygen. “Sorry, kitties.”
Spike eased the snoozing sprog into his friend’s arms.
Clem smiled down at the baby. “Guess I get to hold him after all.” Moment past, the demon’s face took on a determined expression. “Now what?”
Spike approached the door. “There are several different kinds of security doors like this. We don’t have a key, so no luck there. Some operate using magnets. Those are harder. But this one is a simpler one. You just push the bar here to exit and the alarm goes off.”
“Simpler is good, right?” Clem wasn’t convinced.
“Yeah.” Spike squatted and pulled a credit card out of his boot where he sometimes stowed it. He didn’t prefer to carry a wallet. “Just need to slide it through to unlatch the door.”
Concentrating hard, he moved the card in the small crack, hoping to get lucky. To his surprise, it worked on the second pass. Pressing on the door with one hand, he let the humidity roll in and held open the door with the bottom of his boot while bending to snag the shaking backpack.
“Nice,” Clem said, handing Asher back to Spike. Reclaiming Katie, he rushed out of the museum.
Almost immediately, they ran smack into a young couple on the otherwise deserted street. They were dressed for partying – the woman wearing a leather skirt and heels and the man wearing a plaid shirt. He obviously wasn’t from New Orleans; it was too warm for plaid despite it being winter.
The startled man pointed at Katie. “Hey, what’s wrong with her? And why do you have a baby out right now?”
The woman, her hair in twin braids down her back, hurriedly tugged her date away, ignoring Spike, Clem, Katie, and the baby.
“I wouldn’t go that direction if I were you,” Clem half-heartedly called after them.
With a huff of annoyance, Spike shouted, “Hey! Hey, you!” Asher stirred in his arms but remained a heavy weight. Spike felt his diaper. No need to change it anytime soon. He realized that Dru must have changed the baby and done a decent job at it. Huh.
The man glanced back with alarm all over his face.
Spike was half-tempted to don his game face and scare the crap out of the man, but he said, “You two need to listen to my friend here and go the other direction. There’re some men with. . . guns and other deadly weaponry that way!” More like a whole lot of vampires, some Slayers, a werewolf, some witches, and a poodle.
Panic made way for resolution on the man’s face, and he ran a hand through his brown curls. “Mandy! We’re going back the other way.”
Mandy stared at her date with irritation all over her face. Seemed to be a theme. Crossing her arms, she cast Spike and Clem a what-the-hell look. “Fine. We’ll listen to the weirdos.” She pulled on his arm and stormed back the other way.
Clem watched them go. “That was strange. They didn’t even seem to mind that we’re carrying an unconscious woman.”
“That’s the Big Easy for you or at least the French Quarter. Drug deals in broad daylight and men in business suits drunk and passed out on the street. People usually don’t question things. Come on,” Spike hissed. “Let’s get moving before anything else happens. We need to get the Slayer some medical attention.”
Spike led them through the streets of the Quarter, aiming for the first bar and his Civic. Bourbon was much rowdier, and Spike dodged police officers on horseback and groups of reeling, drunken tourists. The stench of urine and spilled beer filled his nostrils. Voices were loud, and the music was louder. One couple was swaying and drunkenly singing “Dancing Queen” complete with attempts at synchronized kicks to the beat of the song. Spike stepped over a pile of horse feces. Having lived in New Orleans for several years, there was a reason he typically avoided the street unless he was out patrolling with Buffy. Fighting demons and vamps who stalked the tourists was fun; having to deal with the tourists themselves was not so fun. Clem stayed steadily behind him, and every time Spike glanced back, his friend was staring wide-eyed at the sights.
A couple of blocks from their destination, the streets were thankfully deserted. Spike heard a soft moan followed by Clem calling, “Hey, Spike? She’s waking up.”
Spike turned back to see Katie’s eyes blinking as she raised her hand to her head and groaned. Clem shifted the young woman in his arms.
Katie peered up at Clem in the dim streetlights and struggled up with greater strength. “What the hell! Who are you?”
Somehow Clem still held onto her though he staggered back.
“Katie,” Spike said, “it’s okay. He’s a friend of mine.”
Katie’s eyes found Spike and widened. Then, she sagged back down, her eyes tightening in pain. “Oh. What are you doing out in the Quarter? And why is Asher with you?”
“I’m in town for the night,” Clem explained. “I hadn’t seen Spike since. . . since well our Sunnydale days, and I invited him out for a beer. Needless to say, it’s been quite the evening.” Spike noted that his friend left out the part about kitten poker, and for that, Spike was grateful.
“Oh.” Her hand went to her temple where the head wound was. She gave Spike a rueful smile. “Liz and I were bait. Vampires – we think the vampires who’ve been biting all those people – got us with some sort of drug after they brained me in the head with a bat. Talk about overkill. They must have turned a doctor and be knowledgeable about capturing Slayers.”
“They got us, too,” Clem offered.
As Katie’s frontal lobe started piecing together everything, she seemed to have a million questions. “Where is Liz? Where are Buffy, Emily, and Willow? Gershwin? And why did the vampires come after you?”
Clem shrugged a shoulder, letting Spike take the lead with that one.
Spike decided to be honest. “My ex. She wanted to talk with me and meet Asher. She set this whole thing up to draw me out, only all the Slayers were in the way. Imagine Liz, Buffy, and the rest are rounding up her minions now.”
Katie gave him an incredulous look. “She couldn’t have texted or called? There is such a thing as a cell phone these days.”
How to explain Dru? “My ex – she’s not exactly – ”
“She’s batshit crazy,” Clem interrupted.
Katie laughed. “I have a feeling there’s a story there that I’m extremely curious about.” She briefly twisted her mouth to one side. “Though I did read about it in that dissertation that Emily sent me and Liz a copy of.”
“Dissertation?” Clem was confused.
“Some lady on the old Watcher’s Council wrote a dissertation about Spike and his life and unlife.”
Clem’s eyes rounded. “Ohhhh. You’re famous.”
The whole dissertation thing was still flattering. The corner of Spike’s mouth went up. “Yeah, yeah. But it’s pretty incomplete as dissertations go. Especially nowadays.”
Clem’s mouth dropped open to ask more questions, but Katie squirmed in his arms again.
“It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I need to stand up. I have to go back and help out. And you need to get Asher home, mister.” She pointed a directive finger at Spike.
Bobbing his head once, Clem gently righted the petite Slayer until she was on her own two feet. She stumbled a bit but caught herself on the folds of the demon’s arms.
“We need to get you to George’s house,” Spike countered. The Watchers with their medical field training were there, and between the three of them, Spike knew Katie would get a thorough assessment. “You might even need a hospital visit.”
Katie closed her eyes; her eyebrows went together as she winced in pain. “Maybe you’re right.”
“’Course I’m right. Car’s not far from here.”
They made their way back to the bar with Spike and Asher leading the way and Katie leaning heavily on Clem but still in good spirits.
The bar was now hopping, and several vehicles were jammed into the parking lot, situated in haphazard ways with a truck blocking three cars and little to no space between vehicles. Several windows were rolled down, indicating that demons had crawled out windows in their efforts to get out. Spike was relieved to see that no one had blocked him or Clem in.
Civic in sight, Spike hurried toward his vehicle, eager to strap his little nugget into the car seat and get him home. Just as he reached for the door handle, he heard a familiar voice from the entrance to the bar.
“Knew you’d come back.” Feng. Fuck.
Spike straightened his shoulders and tried to stay calm as the Asian demon approached. “Wondered what happened to you. You didn’t join your friends in the kitten shakedown.”
The demon’s olive-colored scales glinted in the parking lot’s lights, and the white tufts of fur on the tips of the pointed ears atop his head almost glowed. “They’re not friends.”
“Not even Arjun?” Clem asked, coming up behind Spike and Asher.
“We’re colleagues in the same university department. That’s not even close to friendship.” The way Feng said it made Spike think about how he used to be just a hanger-on with Buffy and her friends.
Spike’s wariness went down one notch, but he still kept a close eye on the shadowed whisper of the demon’s deadly swinging tail. “What do you want? In case you can’t tell, I have a very tired boy on my hands and a very injured Slayer.”
“I’m fine,” Katie insisted, her voice sounding much stronger than even a few minutes before. Spike couldn’t tell if she was faking it, but the irritation in her tone made him consider that she was trying to sound strong in case a fight was needed.
Feng rounded the front end of the Honda, keeping his palms forward. “Just want a kitten. Know you have a couple of them on you.” His ear flicked back and forth; he probably heard a lot more than met the eye.
Katie moved to Spike’s elbow. She crossed her arms as she tried to seem taller than she was. . . or maybe as she tried to steady herself. Spike realized she wasn’t wearing her usual heeled boots, which probably made her more bait-like. “I know what demons do with kittens. And the answer is no. You can’t have a kitten. Just move along; none of us want a fight. We don’t have any kittens anyway.”
Feng’s smile was amused as he looked back and forth between the vampire and the Slayer.
Spike shifted the diaper backpack and heard the kittens rustle around. “Actually. . .”
“What? They’re in your backpack – ” Katie’s eyes grew round as Spike could tell she was putting even more of the pieces together. “Ohhhh.”
“And I don’t want a kitten to eat. I promised my daughter that I’d bring her one from the game tonight. To keep as a pet. Arjun and the other two took the rest with them.”
“Probably had a bit of a feast before they came after us.” Spike relaxed a fraction more. “How old is your sprog?”
“She’s four. Really loves cats.” Feng produced his phone, jogged the screen, and revealed a photo of a much smaller version of him on his lock-screen. She had purple bows attached to the pale hair on her ears.
Clem sighed rather sadly. “Well, I can’t exactly bring a kitten on the plane tomorrow. I suppose you can have my kitten. Hold still, Spike.” He unzipped the backpack further and withdrew a squirming grey baby. With some reluctance, he held out the kitten to Feng. “Take good care of him.”
Feng accepted the bit of fluff, caressing his tiny head. “I will.”
“He will, or he’ll have the wrath of some Slayers to deal with,” Katie chimed in.
“He’s a history professor,” Spike informed her. “Loyola.”
“Perfect. There are four of us area Slayers, and we’ll be paying you and your family a visit.” Katie’s eyes were blazing with challenge. Spike tried not to smile at the idea of a SWAT team of Slayers playing social worker for a tiny kitten.
“That’s fine.” Most of the demon crowd knew they were surrounded by a posse of Slayers; the decent ones, who just wanted to raise families, were grateful for the extra muscle around the city and state. “Good night.” Feng gave the group a little bow and left them to head toward his own vehicle.
“Well, Spike, I guess this is good night from my end, too.” Clem offered Spike his hand when he turned to face him.
“It’s been one wild ride, mate.” Spike shifted Asher slightly and clapped his hand against Clem’s. “Next time, you’re coming over to my place.”
Clem chuckled and gave him a little salute as he backed toward his rental car. “Right. Good idea. Don’t be a stranger. I want to hear from you before another decade goes by.”
“Buffy will be sorry she missed you.” Buffy was going to kill Spike.
“Give her my love.”
“Will do.”
Katie plunged her hand into Spike’s backpack. The lack of Slayer signal was disconcerting as hell. She pulled out the remaining kitten, who automatically started purring like a motorboat. “He’s adorable.”
“She,” Spike corrected, opening the car door and gently settling his sleepy son into the car seat.
Katie opened the passenger side door, cuddling the soft ball of whiteness to her chest. “She. What’re you going to name her?”
“Don’t know yet but not Nala.” Spike buckled in his son and lifted the middle piece over his tiny chest. Safe as houses.
“No?” Katie sat and buckled her seatbelt before closing her door. “That’s a good name for a kitty.”
“No.” Spike slid into the driver’s seat and started the car. “I’ll have to spend some time with her to suss out her name.”
“Makes sense.” Katie laid her head back and closed her eyes and then shifted to lean against the window. “Good thing you’re taking me to George’s. I won’t say a word to Buffy. Just FYI. Lips sealed.” She made a half-hearted gesture at her lips.
The kitten climbed over the middle console to curl up on Spike’s leg as he pulled out of the parking space and onto the road. His fingers found and stroked the kitten’s soft fur. With Asher asleep in the back and only a Slayer to drop off, Spike was finally home free.