- Like Mice in a Cornfield – Chapter I of 5 by Denny
- Like Mice in a Cornfield by Denny – Chapter 2
- Like Mice in a Cornfield by Denny – Chapter 3
- Like Mice in a Cornfield by Denny – Chapter 4
“Like Mice in a Cornfield” by Denny
They’d traveled together and found a place where they could stay, relax, and get to know each other better. Spike just wished he could remember why.
He parked the jeep across the street from the address Beatrice had given them for Dr. Xander Harris. Spike knew the neighborhood. The building was the old Naval Observatory; a five-story complex resting on the side of a small hill surrounded by an acre of thick mud and jagged rocks. There was also a twelve-foot high steel gate circling it, along with a half-dozen teams of security guards, each dragging a trio of dogs on iron leashes.
“How are we going to make this happen?” Buffy sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the complex.
“This is why having me as a partner comes in handy,” he said, double-checking the weapons holster strapped around his waist. “I’ll get past security, shut down the surveillance system and then,” he paused, pointing. “Meet you there.”
There was a weakening in the gate near the main entrance. “In ten minutes, knock that portion of the gate down and walk through. Shouldn’t have a problem, you’re a strong girl.” He half-smiled at Buffy. “I’ll have Harris, and all you need to do is get him back to the jeep. I’ll handle the guards and the dogs.”
“Why not go in together?” Buffy asked.
“Don’t need your muscle for this.” What he did need was for Buffy to stay in the jeep. If Harris was inside, he wanted to spend some alone time with him. Find out who he was, really.
He stepped out of the car, slipped off his coat and tossed it into the back seat.
“Be careful,” Buffy said.
Spike paused and stared at her. She looked different for a moment. More color in her cheeks, less veins around the eyes. Like a human girl.
But he turned away, slamming the door behind him before jetting across the street.
A moment later, he was on the other side of the gate, crouched on the ground on one knee. He glanced back at the jeep. Buffy wouldn’t be able to see him through the brick wall. Still she was looking in his direction with something like worry on her face.
He moved over the rocks swiftly until he reached the rear entrance of the building. The guards didn’t notice him. He was too fast and too quiet. He wasn’t concerned about them anyway. Dogs couldn’t smell him, couldn’t pick up his scent with the wind spinning everything around.
Running his hands along the side of the cement wall, Spike searched for the customary wires that meant an activated vamp sensor. His fingers wandered over the surface, finding nothing. He pressed his spine against the wall, he’d check again once he got inside.
He snapped the padlock from its hinges and eased the door open. A long flight of stairs was straight ahead. Bending his knees slightly, he jumped up, soaring over the stairs not touching a step until he reached the top landing.
“Who are you?” A familiar voice came from around the corner. A man with a eye patch stepped from the shadows. “I have a crossbow and will shoot you.”
“You have broken into my home and I am completely within my rights to shoot you.” Harris raised his hand and pointed the weapon at Spike’s head.
“Harris, you can’t shoot me,” he laughed. “I’m a vampire, remember?”
Harris looked at him narrowly. “My name is Doctor Harris and I don’t know you. But I do know a crossbow can shoot you in the heart and kill you. You’ll see…”
Spike suddenly felt as if he were burning, standing in the middle of an inferno, drowning in black flames. He could barely see, but Harris still stood in the middle of the room with someone standing next to him. Taller, wearing a long, leather coat. Spike stumbled forward, wanting to see more clearly. But the room burst into an ocean of flashing lights, blinding him. He blinked and blinked again. But the lights zigzagged back and forth in front of him and wouldn’t go away.
The next instant everything went hopelessly black.
Buffy was hovering above him when he opened his eyes.
“What the hell happened?” he asked.
“Get up. We’ve got to move,” she said. “Cross—he’s here, in the house.”
“Where’s Xander?” Spike sat up.
“Dr. Harris’ is not here,” Buffy said. “No one’s here but us and Cross.”
“What the hell happened to Xander?” The prat had held a crossbow at his heart. “He staked me.”
“You weren’t staked, Spike. You were drugged.” Buffy was pulling him up by the armpits. “Something knocked you out.” She tugged harder. “Come on, get up. We’ve got to go. Now.”
Glass crashed. A window must have hit the floor in another room and the sound of yelping dogs was coming closer. And Security must have found the switch to the vamp sensor. His skin tingled all over.
Getting to his feet, he hoppled behind Buffy and out of the laboratory into another dark room until a bright light flooded the space. Buffy had flung open a door.
“Follow me,” she ordered.
The flames shot through his body, and burned the flesh on his legs and left him screaming at the bottom of the ditch. But Buffy had said something nice to him. But he couldn’t remember what it was.
The bathroom was the same size as the rest of the suite. Like a Roman bath Spike imagined. It reminded him of stories Darla used to tell. Tall luminous blue vases with real flowers sat atop white marble columns. The entire place was decorated with alabaster and sparkling gemstones. And anything that wasn’t a precious stone or carved marble was gold-plated and extra shiny. On the far wall was a long vanity mirror with two gold bowls and curvy faucets.
“This is a fucking palace,” Buffy whispered. Then she clarified her comment. “I didn’t mean that literally,” she giggled.
He ignored her. “Is that a swimming pool?”
“It’s a Jacuzzi.” Buffy turned on the faucet. Within seconds, a waterfall was streaming steamy water into the huge bin.
They stood next to each other looking at the hot water rushing into the tub. The rising steam coated their skin, covering them with a thin layer of moisture. It reminded Spike of when he lay in Buffy’s arms on cot in the basement in Sunnydale. Her body had been so warm, he’d felt the sweat roll down between her breasts. That had happened the night before they fought “The First.”
Self-conscious, he backed away from the tub. The last time his emotions had gotten him into trouble was more than eighty years ago. Spike closed his eyes. “Get out.” He directed Buffy toward the door.
“It’s big enough for a squadron in here. Be reasonable. We can bolth wash here together. You do the bath while I shower.” She gestured to the opposite side of the room where Spike saw a huge open area with slate marble walls and giant spray jets sprouting from the ceiling and walls. There was a drain on the floor, too.
“You stay on your side of the bathroom,” he ordered. “I’ll stay on mine.”
“You got a deal,” Buffy extended his hand.
Spike pushed it away. “Just do your business and get out, okay?”
“Most definitely okay,” she smiled smugly.
Spike turned from Buffy and slipped off his coat, dropping it to the floor. Then his boots, t-shirt and jeans joined the pile. Next to one of the sinks was a bottle of oil, he emptied the bottle in the tub of water. A bouquet of yellow and white flowers was in a vase. He grabbed a handful and dropped them into the water, too. The Jacuzzi was nearly full. He turned off the faucets and pressed the button Buffy had pointed out on the side of the tub. The murmur of the motor buzzed softly.
He spun around. Buffy, who supposedly was taking a shower, was watching him. “Are you just going to stand there?” He crossed hia arms over his bare chest. “And stare at me?”
“You’re beautiful.” Buffy was leaning against the wall, still dressed in black clothing. It made her eyes look like emeralds, a gemstone Spike hadn’t seen in forever. They sparkled, dark and dangerous. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled. The space between them felt like it was shrinking. He turned and stepped into the tub, lowering his body into the hot, swirling water.
to be continued…
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/276495.html