The second half of Chapter 7. I am hoping to finish off the next chapter and have that posted today, too, so there may very well be more coming after this.
ETA: Unfortunately, though, I’m asleep as I type. Further chapters will be posted on my journal. Sorry to get anyone’s hopes up. :(
If luck runs out, I’d like to thank our lovely mod enigmaticblues for hosting another round. *bows* You’ve done a fabulous job, as always.
Disclaimer: All Joss, not me.
Chapter 7, part 2
***
There’s a nest like that nearly every city with enough vampires, Spike had said. “Because there are always people who want the thrill of playin’ with death and are willin’ to pay well for it. So some enterprisin’ vamp gets together some of his friends and puts them to work. They get some blood from a willin’ victim and some of his hard-earned cash, too, and the mark gets the thrill of cheatin’ death. Everyone’s happy… until the night the vamp takes too much.”
Of course, the vamps were gone from their nest by the time she’d rounded up Giles and Willow and Xander at the Magic Box the next morning.
It pissed her off, and her anger only grew when Giles admitted he’d heard of places like this. Anya hadn’t helped any with her description of hot and cold running blood.
“You knew about this?” Buffy asked, and couldn’t help the hint of accusation in her tone. If Giles had known – if he had told me… What? You could have still been happy with Riley? You haven’t been happy with Riley for a while. It’s just now you know you weren’t the only one keeping secrets.
Giles gestured with his glasses. “I haven’t seen it since… my Ripper days,” he admitted softly. “I’d no idea there was such a nest in Sunnydale.” Thoughtfully, he bit down on one earpiece. “And even if I had, I might not have said anything.”
“What? Why not?” Buffy paused in the act of opening the weapons chest and looked over her shoulder, surprise painting her features.
He was a bit irritated by her question; she could hear it in the way his tone hardened. “Your energies are perhaps better focused on a less ambiguous evil… such as Glory? These people are willing victims.”
Buffy relented – he was reminding her that she had an additional duty to protect Dawn. “I know. But they’re vampires. I’m the Vampire Slayer, and I need a good slay.”
And if she’d been thinking about it, she would have expected the nest to be empty when the four of them arrived. But she wasn’t, and it was. She stomped down from the upstairs, surly at being deprived of her slaying satisfaction.
“Buffy, however did you discover this place?” Giles was looking around the littered room with no small disgust. “Did you come across it while on patrol somehow? I can’t think that any informant would willingly point you here…”
She tucked her extra stakes back into her satchel. “Spike.”
She was surprised by the looks of astonishment and disbelief that flashed over Giles and Xander’s faces; twin expressions of distaste.
“Spike?” Xander glanced around the room, as if he thought the vamp in question was about to pop out of the shadows. “Why would he spill on a place like this? I mean, whatever happened to good old vampire solidarity?”
“I must agree, Buffy.” Giles was already cleaning the lenses of his glasses. “What possible motive could he have for telling you?”
“He had what he thought was a good reason,” she replied, staring down at a still warm kerosene heater. How tempted am I to kick the damn think over and let this place burn? So. Very. Tempted. “And really, he wasn’t wrong.” She could feel eyes on her, but she didn’t look up.
Willow was the first to break the heavy silence that followed Buffy’s last statement. “Okay, so, no vampires to slay here. That doesn’t mean you won’t catch them some other time. Right?”
Buffy looked up at that and nodded. “Right.”
“So, let’s go back to the Magic Box and do some research until it’s time for class.”
Predictably, Xander groaned. “Research? Oh, no, c’mon, Wills. My eyeballs are bleeding already!”
Completely without sympathy, Willow pushed Xander toward the door. “If they’re already bleeding, we’ll make sure they bleed for a good cause,” she said, in that strange blend of teasing and resolve she’d perfected. “Glory isn’t going to find out about herself…”
As soon as they were out the door, Buffy said, “I know what you want to ask, Giles, but could we do it somewhere less… stench-y? It’s not quite as bad as when the vampires were all here, but my nose is about to leave with no forwarding address.”
Giles smiled. “Yes, well, I suspect mine is about ready to do the same.” He motioned her to the door, and they stepped out into the sunlight.
Buffy was impressed that Giles managed to restrain his curiosity until they were in the back room of the Magic Box. “So, why would Spike take you to a nest like that?” he asked mildly, taking off his glasses. Instead of cleaning them, he simply held them in his hand.
Buffy paced between the vaulting horse and the far wall, and it was a long moment before she answered. “Riley. Riley was there. One of the vampires was biting him.”
“Oh, dear Lord. How did… I mean, is that… oh, good Lord.”
She snorted. “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too.”
So he took you there to… kindle some… bad feelings between you and Riley?”
Buffy glared at him so fiercely that he had to look away. “Yeah, because the fact that Riley was there willingly wouldn’t have done it on its own,” she retorted with far more bitterness than she actually felt. “No,” and she went on in a much softer tone. “I honestly think that he just wanted me to know what Riley was doing. No ulterior motives, as hard as that might be for you to believe.” Realizing that there were words on her tongue that she wasn’t nearly ready to say, she shook her head and grabbed her satchel. “I’m gonna check on Riley, just to make sure he’s okay… ready for the ass-kicking I’m so gonna give him.”
“Buffy… after this… I mean, far be it from me to tell you… but surely…”
She stopped, her hand on the still-closed door into the shop proper. “No, Giles,” she whispered. “I’m not… I can’t… I don’t think we could…. but even after all this, I still want him to be my friend, if he’s willing.” She glanced over her shoulder, and knew her feelings were plain on her face from the way his expression softened. “I definitely own some of the blame for this, though.” Too quickly, she turned away and opened the door. “Catch you later.”
But Riley did not open his door to her knock or soft call, and she had left her key at home… not that it felt right to use that key to get in; it felt less right than it ever had. After a little while, she walked away, trying to ignore the way her stomach kept churning in dread.
***
Knowing Finn as he did, Spike expected him to show up at the crypt any time, and resigned himself to a sleepless day, just to avoid getting staked as he slept.
But as the day wore on and the wanker didn’t show, Spike found himself drifting off in his chair. After all, he thought, propping his head up on one fist, didn’t get a lot of sleep yesterday…Could head down below for a bit of kip. Then he shook his head at the thought. Be damned if I’ll let White Bread think I’m hidin’ from him.
When dusk crept in, he was still awake, and starting to consider an option he didn’t much care for. Wouldn’t have taken him all this time to try to make up with the Slayer. ‘Least, I hope she wouldn’t take him back… an’ from what she said last night, maybe she isn’t in love with him anyway. The very thought gave him a shiver of satisfaction that he couldn’t deny or explain. No, he concluded, frowning, if Captain America hasn’t shown up here breathin’ fire, he’s either too drained to put in his appearance or he’s dead. And if he’s dead, he’s sure not going to stay that way.
A few months ago, he would have laughed his arse off at the thought of the dependably self-righteous git joining the ranks of the undead. In fact, he was about ready to start snickering at the irony when the Slayer’s words popped into his head.
“To kill someone I care about?” There was an else in her words; Spike could hear it loud and clear, though she’d never said it aloud. She’d had to send bloody Angelus to Hell, and the way she’d cared about him… well, the girl probably had all kinds of scars.
She really doesn’t need to deal with Finn on top of everything else. He was startled at the thought, and quickly amended it. Besides, it’s about time I get some back at the bastard for what he and the other soldier boys did to me with this bloody chip. Satisfied, because he refused to think about why he wanted to spare the Slayer pain, and convinced that he didn’t have to worry about wood making a sudden appearance in his chest if he dozed off, Spike closed his eyes.
***
Buffy was officially worried.
Actually, no, she thought, striding swiftly through the sixth cemetery of her patrol. I went way past worried at last night when Riley didn’t answer his phone. I think I’ve wandered into frantic… with a side of humongous guilt.
Because she knew the drill. In Sunnydale, anyone who had been missing for this long wasn’t ever going to be seen again.
At least… not alive.
Because he’s been turned. If he hasn’t gotten in touch with me, with us by now… it’s because he’s been turned.
Even though she’d been in love with Angel, even though she was still trying to deal with what she felt for Spike… the thought of Riley as a vampire touched off those feelings that she normally held for the vampires she hunted; disgust and distaste, cool and impersonal – almost too emotionless to be called hatred – and the certainty that they needed to be staked for the greater good.
Somehow, between taking care of her mother at the hospital during the day and patrolling and taking care of Dawn at night, she’d managed to avoid having to talk to her friends about what had her so worried. And that was good, too, because it kept her from really dwelling on it every minute. Yeah, she thought grimly, I’ve only been thinking about it every other minute instead.
Weird as it seemed, it felt like she’d already done her grieving – that she’d mourned for Riley and their relationship before it had actually ended… before he’d even died.
And maybe, somewhere beneath all her guilt was the distress that it had worked out like this, the sorrow that she had to kill someone else she cared about… but there wasn’t anything more than that. At least… not right now. Maybe later she’d be able to get past that and do some honest grieving.
That didn’t mean that she wasn’t going to do her duty.
She had escaped the Magic Box as soon as dusk had fallen, her only excuse that she was eager to get out on patrol. She didn’t think Giles had bought her act, though.
I wish Spike had been at his crypt, she thought almost wistfully, and really wasn’t surprised at having that thought at all. The past couple of days, she had wanted to be around Spike more and more. But he hadn’t been – around, that is. He’d even missed their patrol last night, and she couldn’t think about that, because she didn’t want to deal with something happening to Spike as well. God, she thought, quickening her pace through the last few headstones, I just couldn’t take that, too…
The few fresh graves she’d crossed had been neatly raked. She hadn’t seen any evidence of the ground having been disturbed, especially by anything crawling out from underneath.
She headed into the general vicinity of the nest Spike had shown her. I hope I can find him before he rises… I don’t want him to have killed anyone. For a moment, she closed her eyes and let her regret fill her. I’m so sorry it had to be this way, Riley.
That was when she felt the vampire tinglies run down the back of her neck, screaming the presence of the undead. An instant later, she heard a crash, loud and clear. Moving even faster, she tried to focus on where she thought the sound was coming from.
Then she was there, a street or two away from the abandoned building she and Spike had visited, and so was Riley.
Moonlight illuminated the end of the alley where it widened in the space between the buildings. Even though she’d expected it, Buffy’s heart still sank at the sight of Riley’s glowing yellow eyes, the fangs and ridges that turned his wholesome features into a menacing mask.
She tightened her grip on her stake and prepared to fight. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, she flashed back to fighting Angelus, and how he’d used Angel’s knowledge against her. So not looking forward to that, she thought, then steadied herself to take that necessary step…
And watched in amazement as Riley went flying into the wall of the building directly across from her. Glad she was hidden in the shadows, she wondered what would be strong enough to take on a vampire, even a fledgling… and if she needed more weapons.
Then another figure stepped into the moonlight, and Buffy sagged in relief at the blinding flash of white crowning it. Spike.
***
Riley Finn didn’t know it, but he was being toyed with.
Searching the alleyways and deserted buildings that riddled Sunnydale had been a daunting task, but luckily, Spike had found Riley’s body not too far away from the now-abandoned nest, tucked in an unused dumpster. From the numerous puncture marks in his arms and legs, it appeared that every vamp in the nest had taken a turn at feeding from him.
The moment Finn opened his eyes – ridges forming as he did – he was greeted with the hardest blow Spike could possibly deliver. Spike watched with unholy glee as the wanker’s head snapped around, cracking hard against the brick wall of the building behind him.
“Bloody hell, that felt good.” He straightened up, smirking down at Captain Cardboard where he lay stunned. “Bloke could get used to that.” He shook out his hand and flexed his fingers a couple times. “Let me do it again.” He pulled the fledgling upright and leaned him against the wall. “Stay right there,” he ordered, patting Finn’s cheek more than a little patronizingly. Finn kind of lolled against the bricks until Spike drove his fist into his stomach. He doubled over with a groan, only to be met with Spike’s upthrust knee.
Finn ended up sprawled on the pavement. Spike surveyed him with satisfaction. “Tables are turned now, aren’t they, you bastard? The bloody chip you shoved up my brain ain’t protectin’ you any more, is it? Time for Spike to get a little payback.” He dragged the other to his feet once more, only to have him pull away.
“Not a… fair… fight,” Riley coughed, and wiped away the blood trickling slowly from his mouth.
Grinning, Spike bounced on the balls of his feet. “You plannin’ to fight back? Good on you, mate. Would hate to think you were just gonna take it. Tell you what – I’ll even let you win for a minute or two.” He raised his hands and wiggled his fingers, the gesture universal for ‘bring it on’.
Finn’s punch rocked him back a step, but didn’t knock away his grin. And for the next couple of minutes, he absorbed blow after blow, watching Riley’s overconfidence grow. At last, he dodged one of the other vampire’s haymakers and grabbed his arm. “Time’s up,” he said, and flung Finn into a wall hard enough to make him recoil from the impact.
Just then, he felt the familiar shiver on the back of his neck that signaled the Slayer was approaching.
Regaining his feet, the fledgling rubbed the back of his own neck. “Well, that’s cool. That means Buffy’s on her way, doesn’t it?” Then he grinned around his fangs. “Hey, I’m all undead and evil now. That means she’s finally gonna want me more than you.” He took a step forward. “I mean, apparently all it takes to win her heart is to have one that doesn’t beat.”
Spike frowned, even as the prickling sensation heightened. “What are you on about?”
Finn laughed nastily. “The Master… Angel… Dracula… you… c’mon, it’s obvious! She’s got an undead fetish. Now, I can play the part, too.” With a lascivious lick of his lips, he went on, “And I’m not neutered either, Hostile 17. I can see how much she really likes getting bitten… and just how sweet she tastes as I drain her dry.”
Where the rage came from, Spike had no idea. He just knew he had to hit the wanker as hard as possible for spewing such filth. So he did, and still wasn’t satisfied, even as Finn flew across the alley. He stalked after him, slipping into his vamp face as he did. “Fair fight’s over,” he snarled, and pulled out a stake. Moving at full speed, almost too fast for the eye to follow, he struck, long before Finn was even aware of what was happening.
The stunned look he wore as he crumbled to dust nearly assuaged the burning anger. “Pillock,” he muttered, and kicked at the ashes, conveying in that one word all his contempt. “Just glad the Slayer didn’t hear that rubbish.” The mere thought of what Finn had said made Spike wish he was whole once more… just so he could stake him again.
“Spike?”
He whirled around, having forgotten about the Slayer’s approach. “Slayer? I was…”
But she was looking at the pile of dust that had been her boyfriend, and he stopped, waiting for her to say something. For a long moment, she just stared down, and finally, a slight breeze swirled the dust away. As it did, the Slayer sighed and glanced up at him. Her eyes were dry, but her face was filled with pain. “I…”
“Slayer,” he growled, “if you say it’s your fault, so help me, I’ll…” He suddenly paused, and she arched one eyebrow at him. “Well, I’ll think of something that doesn’t hurt me more than you,” he finished lamely.
Her mouth quirked in a tiny grin that disappeared within seconds. “It still feels like it’s my fault, though,” she said quietly, and turned away.
“What, ‘cause you introduced him to what lurks beyond the streetlamps?” Spike snorted. “He was in the Initiative, pet. An’ he was with you, helpin’ you for a long time. If he didn’t know what he was gettin’ into, he was an idiot. An’ you sure aren’t to blame because he was an insecure wanker, either. He was that all on his own.”
Buffy was silent for so long that he began wondering just what was going on inside her head. At last, she met his eyes and smiled – the same half-smile she’d given him at the Bronze only a few weeks ago. “I’m glad you… God, it sounds so bad, but… I’m not sure I could have…”
He reached out, laid his hand on her shoulder. “You could have, pet,” he said softly. “You know you could. But there’s nothing wrong with wantin’ to save yourself pain. He certainly wasn’t listenin’ to you the other night, but…” He stopped short and dropped her gaze, unwilling to admit those particular words aloud.
Then her warm hand covered his, as it had that night in her backyard, and she smiled at him – a real, full smile. “Thank you.”
And that she squeezed his hand before finally relinquishing it, that she seemed reluctant to let him go… Well, all at once, it wasn’t so hard to understand his sudden rush of affection for the Slayer.
Comments and criticism gratefully accepted.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/249984.html
