Chapter 2.08
Friday, May 17th, 2002
"Bollocks!" The vampire balanced
on one leg in the middle of the still mostly empty parking lot,
bringing his other knee up so that he could rest the dog basket
that was filled with dried kibble and canned dog food on his thigh.
This freed one hand to try to pry his phone out of his now rather
awkward to reach front jeans pocket. Just as he managed to locate
the object of his search, the technological wonder stopped ringing.
"Serves you right for wearing pants that
are so tight," Buffy told him. "Who was it?"
Spike checked the missed calls option and shook
his head. "New one on me. Leastways, it’s not in the
directory. Prob’ly some telemarketing git. An’ you’ve
never complained ‘bout the pants before."
Buffy leaned back slightly to catch an appreciative
glimpse of vampire butt. "Not complaining now, either,"
she teased. Just then, Buffy’s phone began to ring. "Or
not a telemarketer," she added. Somehow, her struggle to
cope with the carriers filled with the remaining purchases and
Rogue herself, on her new choke chain was far less amusing than
Spike’s one-legged balancing act. Spike had refused to take
the dog while he was using the orbs. He said that the original
chain they had used was so short, Rogue couldn’t really
pull too far or loosen the chain around her neck very much. With
the longer chain he was aware that too sharp a jerk, especially
with more than vampire strength, might actually injure the dog,
which rather neatly left Buffy to keep her under control. Again,
by the time Buffy managed to retrieve her cell, the caller had
rung off.
"It’s Clem. He’s using one
of the cells we got in LA. That’s why you didn’t recognise
the number. We still need to program all the new ones into your
phone."
"Let’s get this stuff back to the
car before we ring him back. He’s probably just checkin’
numbers for tomorrow night. Lily’ll be goin’ into
overdrive in preparation."
The pair had just settled into the front seats
of the DeSoto and Spike actually had his phone in his hand when
it rang again.
"Clem, mate. Good job we weren’t
doin’ anything that needed peace and quiet. What’s
up?" The vampire’s face took on a more serious
expression. "Human?" he asked.
After another couple of seconds, Spike took
the phone from his ear and turned to Buffy. "Anya reckoned
Red an’ Harris wouldn’t be comin’ till after
half twelve, right?"
"That’s what she said," Buffy
sounded slightly puzzled.
Spike shifted the cell back into position. "Yeah,
Clem? We’re comin’ over there now. Talk to Dave ourselves.
Thanks for the heads up."
"Dave?" Buffy asked as Spike started
up the car and swung it from the lot with a screech of tyres,
sending Rogue sliding along the back seat.
"Manager at that bar I took you to. The
one where you met Clem. Turns out Wrinkly decided to keep out
the way of the women by spending the next couple of days over
there, which is lucky for us, because now we know that there’s
some new wanker in town who seems to think we’re his business."
"We? As in the two of us? Or as in the
Scoobies?"
"As in the two of us."
"So, what did Dave tell him? Who is he?"
"Human or at least he looks and smells
that way. Not of the normal ethnic persuasion for Sunnyhell. Other
than that, I guess we’ll find out when we get there and
talk to Dave."
"So what’s this guy look like?"
Dave shrugged as he poured a brace of tequila
to go with Clem’s beer. Putting the bottle down he raised
his right hand to indicate a height a few inches taller than Spike
and then held both hands apart at shoulder height to give an idea
of build.
"Black," Spike kicked Buffy as gently
as he could on the shin, as soon as he saw her mouth begin to
open. Dave continued, oblivious to the hour-long lecture on political
correctness he had just escaped. "Bald, late twentiesss,
early thirtiesss, earring, attitude." The bartender’s
forked tongue gave him a slight lisp, but it wasn’t like
anyone was going to call him on it. The demon seemed to consider.
"You want a drink for the dog?"
"Not if you’re talking about a swap,"
the vampire replied, "but I don’t suppose a half pint
of beer’ll do it any harm."
"Spike!"
"What? The guy’s got to make a livin’.
The dog’s takin’ up space in his pub. It’s not
unreasonable to expect it to drink." Spike tossed a generous
bundle of notes on the bar. "Get yourself one as well. So
when was this?"
The barman paused again. "Tuesssday."
"An’ when he was askin’ ‘bout
us. What exactly did he say?"
The barman looked uncomfortable and developed
an undue concentration on Rogue’s beer which he was in the
process of pouring as he spoke. "Sssaid he was lookin’
for the Ssslayer and her pet vampire."
A muscle ticked in Spike’s jaw. It wasn’t
anything he hadn’t heard before, or wouldn’t hear
again.
"So what did you tell him?"
"Asked him if thisss looked like a place
the Ssslayer would hang out."
"And what did our friend have to say to
that?"
This time the barman gave a hurried glance at
Buffy before jerking his head to indicate he wanted to speak to
the vampire on his own.
When Spike finally made it back to where Buffy
and Clem were waiting, he paused just long enough to knock back
one of the two tequila shots and pass the other to Buffy. "Drink
up, pet. We’ve got another bar to go to."
"So, what did he say?"
"You don’t want to know, pet."
"Yes, I do. I wouldn’t be asking
if I didn’t."
"Okay, you want to know, but I’m
damned if I’m going to tell you. Joyce would’ve been
lookin’ out her axe if she heard me use language like that
in front of you. Let’s just say that when I catch up with
the guy he’s going to have a messy meeting with my fists."
"And that’s as much as you’re
going to tell me."
"Except for the fact that we’re
going to go look for that wanker that got chucked out the poker
game that night you were here."
"Okay, I’ll go for the diversion," Buffy conceded.
"Why?"
"Because after Dave fobbed the guy off
as best he could, certain others were seen having a lengthy discussion
with him."
"And you think we’re going to find
him where?"
"Well, if he isn’t here, that leaves
Willy’s and a couple of other less salubrious establishments
where I wouldn’t take a lady to check out," Spike replied without taking his eyes off the road.
"Isn’t it kind of early to assume
that he’s started drinking for the day?"
"If he was just likely to be drinking,
then, yeah. What you’re failing to take into account is
that a dealer goes where his market is."
"And what does he deal in?" Buffy inquired.
"Anything and everything he can get his
hands on and in this case I suspect it was information."
"You didn’t mention this before."
Spike's left eyebrow lifted a fraction. "As I recall I introduced the whole bunch
as lowlifes."
"Yeah, I remember and then you brought
one of them to my birthday party and he turned out to be one of
the good guys."
"So… I guess in Clem’s case
I exaggerated," Spike admitted, "but it doesn’t make it any less true ‘bout
the rest of them."
The occupants of Willy’s fell silent as the blonde pair
made their entrance, this time without the pooch in tow. If there
was going to be a fight, then a dog tangling round their legs
was going to be nothing but a nuisance. Spike might not be happy
about the risk to the DeSoto’s upholstery, but that was
something he was going to have to live with, or not. It was the
fact that the demon tried to get out in those first few seconds
that gave him away. Everyone else had frozen in place when the
duo entered, knowing that their arrival meant trouble for someone.
Spike was across the room in a fraction of a
second. The demon’s feet left the floor as Spike picked
him up by the scruff of the neck and slammed him face first into
the back door of the bar.
"Was that what you were looking for?"
he asked as he rammed the craggy faced demon again and again into
the metal reinforced wood.
"You shouldn’t—"
"Shouldn’t what?" Buffy asked,
joining him. "Shouldn’t peel your face a bit at a
time as if it were an incredibly ugly artichoke until you tell
him what he wants to know? I think he should. Seems to me you
should just about be softened up ready for the peeling."
"Dave’s. Tuesday. You were seen
talking to a big black guy who’d been asking about us. I
want to know what you told him," Spike informed the demon,
as yellowish green ichor oozed from between the plates which made
up the dealer’s face.
"Didn’t tell him nothin’,"
the demon slurred.
"You know, when Pinocchio lied, his nose
got bigger. I guess this works in reverse… Can I?"
Buffy asked.
Spike took a firm grip on either side of the
demon’s head. "Go ahead, pet."
As the Slayer’s hand reached out toward
the most central of the chitinous protrusions that made up the
demon’s face he suddenly found a streak of previously unknown
loquaciousness.
"I just told him what any demon in town
could have told him. Mostly it was just a case of confirmation."
"Like what?"
"About the chip. How you’ve been
batting for the wrong side, so that between the people you pissed
off when you had a pair, and the demons who don’t appreciate
traitorous little bastards, there’s no one left save her
who’d have anything to do with you. That for the last few
months you’ve had her scent all over you. That maybe some
time last century you might have been the slayer of slayers, but
now you’re just her fuck-toy. And you’re easy meat
for any human that wants you. And believe me, this guy wants you."
Buffy punched him so hard that the armoured
plate on his nose actually cracked in two and fell off, but she
grazed her knuckles at the same time. It was probably the fact
that Spike was instantly more concerned about her than their ugly
friend that saved the demon from a broken neck.
As Spike released the demon to check on her
hand, Buffy gently placed a hand on his chest to stop him coming
closer. "In a minute, Spike. I’ve got something I
want to make very clear to this guy, and to anybody else who might
have anything to say on the subject." Buffy’s voice
rose so that it could be heard by all the bar’s occupants.
She held up her left hand, palm inward, so that the diamonds on
her finger caught what light there was in the dingy bar.
"This tells those of you who hold with
human convention that there’s a lot more between me and
him than just a whole bunch of incredible sex… But seeing
as most of you in here don’t hold with human convention,
maybe this is something you understand a bit better." She
pulled aside her hair so that the recently renewed claim scar
was in plain view. "Now, all you people had better get the
picture real quick. I am his, he is mine, and anyone who messes
with either one of us had better be ready for all the hurt that
a master vamp and a slayer can do between them. Are we clear?"
She turned back to the demon whose offensive
remarks had prompted the outburst, screwing up her face at the
sight of the open sore where his nose used to be.
"That has got to hurt! I figure unless
you want to hurt some more you should come up with a name and
a way to get in touch with him."
"Don’t know how to get in touch
with him. Figure he’s probably checked out as much as he’s
goin’ to."
"But you do know a name…"
"Said his name was Wood, Robin Wood, like
Robin Wood, Robin Wood riding through the glen, but not."
"Believe me, this guy is not goin’
to look like Richard Greene when we’re done with him,"
Spike retorted.
"When your girlfriend’s done with
him, you mean."
"Maybe, but, hell, as long as I’ve
got scum like you to cope with, I can let her have the humans."
Spike rammed the demon’s head into the door one last time,
only this time he didn’t make quite so much effort to hold
back. There was a loud series of cracking noises, almost like
the noise of someone breaking into a lobster shell and when Spike
released the demon he slumped to the floor.
Spike slid an arm around Buffy’s shoulders.
"Let’s go home, kitten."
"What the hell?" the vamp spat out. "I guess nobody bothered to explain to micro-brain
that it isn’t half past twelve until the big hand’s
on the six and the little hand’s between twelve and one!"
Spike pulled up in front of the house, taking
care not to block Xander’s car in, since he expected the
carpenter to be leaving very soon. Buffy wondered why the vampire
was suddenly keen to take the dog after his previous reluctance
until he marched up to where Dawn and Tara were standing and turned
the lead over to the teenager.
"Why don’t the two of you take the
mutt inside and see if you can get her calmed down?" he
asked, thereby creating the perfect excuse to get the two people
he most wanted out of Willow’s way safely out of the picture,
before he turned his attention to the witch.
"Just where exactly in my little speech
did I lose you yesterday, Red? I thought I made it clear that
I didn’t want you 'round here when you were goin’ to
be upsetting Bit and Glinda. So is it that you don’t understand
English or you can’t work out how to use a phone?
And you," his gaze bored straight through
Xander. "Even if she didn’t tell you that she’s
not supposed to come round here without calling to make sure Glinda
and Bit aren’t around, it didn’t occur to you that
we would want to be here when she turned up?"
"Since when did you end up in charge,
here?" Willow asked.
Buffy took her stance next to the vampire, linking
her hand with his. "Since I agreed to marry him. That puts
him on an equal footing with me, and so far, he hasn’t said
anything I’ve got a problem with. Your things are all on
the porch. If you find there’s anything missing when you
get where you’re going you can give us a list, but as far
as all the stuff from the shop is concerned, if Giles paid for
it, it’s his and it’ll be returned to him. For now,
I’d like the keys to our home back."
"Buffy?" Xander tried to intercede.
"Isn’t that kinda harsh? Don’t you think she
should at least get to pack her own stuff?"
"What the hell do you think we’ve
been doin’ here all mornin’, you stupid wanker?"
Spike exploded. "That is it." He waved an
arm toward the bags and boxes on the porch. "Now, just take
it, and get the damn crone the hell away from Bit and Glinda."
Spike picked up a nearby box and shoved it into Xander’s
arms.
"Or you’ll what, Fangless?"
"Or I’ll build a bloody bonfire
on the front lawn and burn the whole bloody lot."
"Xander…" the witch tried
to get her friend’s attention, but he was only interested
in Spike.
"You and what army?"
"If there’s only you tryin’
to stop me, it won’t take an army."
"Xander!" Willow’s voice rose
in volume. "Spike isn’t chipped any more."
"I can stop you… Huh?"
The brunette spun to face his childhood friend, dropping the box
he carried with a crash as he turned to stare at her. "What
the frick did you just say?"
"I said Spike isn’t chipped any
more. He hurt Sam and his chip didn’t go off. You know he
bit Buffy."
"But-but that was just. I mean, endorphins,
‘cause it— If it had— he would—"
"What? If the chip was gone I would have
killed you all in your sleep, already? Yeah, right. Some of you
ain’t worth the effort. And some of the rest I even like."
"But, you knew." The carpenter stared
at Willow. "You knew and you didn’t tell me."
"I only found out on Wednesday."
"This is Friday, Will. Anya’s been
in that house with him all morning. Buffy and Dawn and Tara are
all living in that house with him. How could you keep this from
me?"
Buffy slapped the near hysterical man, finally
getting him to shut up. "We didn’t tell anyone. I
made a decision that it was something I preferred to be kept secret,
and, given your reaction, it would seem that I was right about the
fact that if we told you all you would broadcast it loud and clear
for Riley, the Initiative and whoever else might be eavesdropping
to hear. Congratulations. You’ve just put my family’s
lives in more danger than they already were."
"I’ve put your family in danger?
What about the fact that Dawn’s sharing a house with an
unfettered murderer? What about the fact that that’s my
wife in there?"
"Get this straight, Xander. One thing
I would never compromise on is the safety of my friends and family.
I know that Spike is not a danger to the people around him, but
if you keep pushing this, I wouldn’t blame him if he felt
compelled to kick your ass and I might even be inclined to help.
Take Willow and her things and go, and before
you come back, just get your head around this concept. I would
never have agreed to marry Spike if I hadn’t believed that
with or without the chip, I could trust him."
Buffy turned to Willow and held out her hand.
"Keys?" She waited until the other woman pulled her
keys, still on Joyce’s key-ring, from her pocket and passed
them over. Then, she tugged at the arm of her vampire. "Come
on, fang boy. It’s nearly lunchtime and there’s a
puppy in there that hasn’t had its breakfast, yet. We better
unpack the car." |
