Chapter 1.14
Monday, May 13th, 2002
"Em, guyyys?" Fred called from her vantage point
by the door. "This Spike guy's meant to be some sort of hostage,
right?"
"Right," confirmed Buffy from her position behind
the desk.
"Then how come he's actin' like he's in charge?"
Fred asked as she scuttled away from the doors.
"Huh?" Buffy asked, but the questioning went
no further as Spike made his grand entrance.
Willow was experiencing some severe flashbacks.
She was mentally thanking the hotel's architect for the fact he
hadn't seen fit to have any windows big enough for Spike to come
crashing through. This was most definitely not Buffy's Spike,
the tamed wolf that they had all become so used to over the years.
This was the wild, majestic predator that he had been when he
first invaded Sunnydale.
Command seemed as natural to him as breathing.
He held the attention of every person in the room, male or female,
a phenomenal presence that, regardless of orientation, it was
impossible to ignore. He cut down Clem with a casual disregard,
as if he was of less import to him than the marble beneath his
feet. The Wicca had rapidly learned that Lily commanded respect
from all who knew her, yet Spike paid no such due.
'Because he doesn't know her.' The redhead
was certain that Spike was under some sort of memory affecting
spell. 'Now when I was doing that sort of thing, I wouldn't
let the components out of my sight, just in case. So who would
be the one holding Spike's leash? Who has most to gain from his
selective amnesia?
Whoa! Enough with the "Officer and a Gentleman" routine. Buffy
can't seriously be going to... Well, hey, who can blame her? It's
not like we're in a helpless situation facing overwhelming odds,
and she's the best fighter out of all of us.'
She
watched as Dru pulled a stake from her coat pocket and launched
herself toward Spike's back, unseen by either of the blonde pair.
A sideways glance showed Angel and Connor arrayed
against Lindsey and ringed three-deep by the invading forces,
though at present the combatants were still circling trying to
find an advantage, or so it seemed. As yet, there had been no
actual contact just an exchange of words. Ridiculously, Angel
took time out from his own predicament to take exception at Spike's
cavalier attitude to hospitality.
"Hey, Boy, where do you think you're going?"
Willow watched as Dru closed the distance between
herself and Spike. It had to be Dru. At the very least there had
to be a crystal, possibly even some more powerful focus for the
spell, and Dru had to be the one who had it. Willow watched as
the brunette moved closer. She let out a yell of warning, even
though she knew it would be too late, and given the lip-lock the
pair were indulging in, it would also probably go unnoticed. The
couple remained oblivious to Drusilla's presence, and all the
redhead could do now was hope that Clem's foray this afternoon
would pay off.
Gunn, on the other hand, had a loaded crossbow.
Even as the sanctuary spell caused Drusilla's blow to rebound
mere inches from Spike's leather clad back; the former street-kid
launched a bolt into her torso. The vampiress fell to the ground,
reaching out as if to claw at Spike's legs. "She shan't have him.
No-o-o. Spike's my boy. He loves me."
Those of the others who were armed with crossbows
raised their weapons, firing on the vampires around Angel, Connor
and Lindsey. Willow watched the distraught vampiress as she alternated
between trying to pull out the arrow that was lodged in her back
and pulling herself across the floor after Spike's retreating
form. She noticed, for the first time, the dark pendant that rested
between Dru's pale breasts.
'Surely it couldn't be that simple.'
Before she could wonder any further, Gunn's second
shot hit home, this one passing cleanly through Drusilla's heart.
For a second Willow saw only pain in her features, but just before
her flesh turned to dust, it seemed as if there was a moment of
tranquillity, as if she welcomed the end to her perpetual torment.
Before she could be sure, Dru's calm face was dust and finally
her bones crumbled to the floor.
Willow tried to scan the dust for traces of the
crystal pendant, but this had been no high-enchantment, and she
suspected that the crystal had turned to dust with its owner.
A keening wail echoed through the walls of the
hotel, and Lindsey and his supporters scattered to the winds.
Xander watched as his worst nightmare came to
life before his eyes. At least Deadboy Senior had had the decency
to be ashamed of what he was. Spike not only revelled in it, he
didn't give anyone the option of convincing themselves that his
and Buffy's relationship was purely platonic. Not that Xander
didn't know exactly what those scars on Buffy's neck meant. And
with the naked push-ups... and he so didn't want to think
about what Spike had been pushing up where.
Xander knew about claiming rituals. Witchcraft
books weren't the only ones that came with engravings, and there
had been some pretty graphic engravings in those Vampyr texts
of Giles'. But what really made this his worst nightmare was that
Spike and Buffy had been split up, and here he was doing his bit
in what was essentially a battle to get them back together again.
He watched as Spike carried Buffy off, just managing one better
than dragging her upstairs like some Neanderthal. He couldn't
believe that they were oblivious to the carnage that was breaking
loose at their backs, literally.
Then, the first bolt flew, and Xander took it
as his cue to start thinning the crowd of vampires around Angel,
Connor and Lindsey. He grabbed the broadsword he'd swiped from
the pile of weapons Buffy had been cleaning. He'd got there just
in time, too. Angel had been about two paces behind him and had
given him a dark glower as he eyed the weapon in Xander's hand
before picking up a longsword. After all, Xander was the only
one out of the two of them that was actually going to be fighting,
what with the sanctuary spell and all.
Xander waded in wielding the sword with a strength
that let him make rapid swings and thrusts, where normally the
blade's own momentum would have limited his actions. Even if it
hadn't been for the sanctuary spell, he wouldn't have needed to
parry. He gave a huge, horizontal sweep of the blade cleaving
the heads from two of the vampires that had ringed Angel's group
before they even knew he was there. Boy, did this invulnerability
thing have... three... its uses, just so long as the people...
four... you were fighting didn't know how you came to have it.
Okay, when... five... he finally got Anya home
she was definitely going... six... to do the Brigitte Nielson
thing to his Conan. Maybe... seven... he should suggest to Buffy
that they keep... "Hey, come back you cowards..." a couple of
weapons at their place. Just so he could practice of course.
Okay, where the hell was that howling coming
from? Jeez, it had to be Spike. That was kinda quick. So much
for vampire stamina ...and no wonder they wanted the basement
soundproofed if he made that din every time.
Spike's wailing lament was Angel's first intimation
of Drusilla's passing. Up until then, he'd been too busy taunting
Lindsey, trying to get him to fall foul of the sanctuary spell,
whilst also trying to make sure that Xander didn't cut him or
Connor with those wild swings he was making with that sword. He
froze dead at the sound. It could only mean one thing, something
he'd wanted and dreaded at the same time for over a century.
He headed for the stairs at a run. Whatever else
he and Spike were, regardless of the differences between them,
they were family. For now, that was all that was important.
They hadn't even made it to a room. They knelt
facing each other in the third floor corridor. Buffy's hand brushed
softly through the curls at the back of his head as she held him
close. Angel couldn't help but think that the Buffy he'd known
would have been petulant. She wouldn't have understood that a
man could love two women at once. She certainly hadn't expected
him to grieve when he staked Darla for her. Nevertheless, here
she was offering Spike solace as he howled like a banshee over
Drusilla.
Angel fell to his knees behind Spike, so that
the younger vampire was held between him and Buffy, except Angel
didn't know that a third of Spike's back was one massive burn.
The pain was enough to make Spike pull away,
and Angel in turn took offence at Spike's apparent rejection until
Spike's hand reached back to take his, and he finally ceased his
unearthly wail.
Spike twisted his upper body so that his "good
side" stayed glued to Buffy as he looked half-over his shoulder
at Angel.
"Sorry, mate. Got a few tender patches that don't
like bein' pressed on."
Buffy blew out an exasperated breath. "And I
used to think he exaggerated everything. Here, it turns out he's
a master of understatement."
Spike gave a sigh and loosed Angel's hand. "Don't
matter what I am. We haven't got time for this. Not now."
"What's up?" Buffy asked, knowing that something
had forced him to lay his grief to one side, if only temporarily.
"Well, when Dru died, the spell they had this
guy do disappeared. You know how that goes. 'Bye-bye, Randy. Hello,
Spike.' For a start, I've just remembered that those guys have
got half a dozen kids not much older than Dawn stuck in a cabin
in the middle of nowhere, and your green friend's up there with
them. I'm guessing since I kind of burnt my bridges there that
they won't exactly feel compelled to keep their word about not
harming them."
Spike pulled a stake from his coat pocket and
passed it to Buffy. "And the other thing you should know is that
they took the chip out."
"I know, " Buffy replied, handing the piece of
wood back to him blunt end first. "At least, I guessed from the
headache you gave me for nearly a day. We can do the big heart
to heart later. For now, just don't eat anybody and don't hurt
Xander too bad, and I won't stake you.
I guess we better see if we can reach this cabin
before they do. Do you think you could find your way back there?"
"In a helicopter? Sure. In a car? Not a hope
in hell. In a four by four with a winch and the help of some detailed
maps? Probably. But there's no way we can beat them back there.
All we can really do is head out there and see what they left
behind."
Buffy looked over to Angel. "You want to set
your people to work sorting out vehicles and maps and stuff. It
seems to me that we aren't going to be able to leave tonight.
If Spike can pinpoint it on a map, we might be able to leave tomorrow
morning. Unless you know someone with a helicopter or two that
would lend you them and their pilots on no notice whatsoever."
Angel looked over at her. "Funny you should ask...
'cause."
"You're joking, right?" Buffy asked.
"More like guessing. I'd say chances are David
Nabbit owns at least one helicopter."
Buffy sighed. "Lifestyles of the rich and famous.
See what you can scare up. We'll be in..." She stood up and pushed
open the door to the nearest room. "...Here, when you're ready for
us. And if you can send someone up with a first aid kit, that'd
be good, too."
Buffy closed the door behind them and drew Spike
over to the bed. She gently eased the weight of his duster from
his shoulders and then undid his shirt, button by button, kissing
her way down the centre of his chest as it was revealed. Both
their actions were subdued, Spike's emotional pain a constant
backdrop to their interaction.
She hissed as she realised that the shirt was
stuck to his flesh at several points. "Spike, it's going
to be better if we soak this off. Same with the jeans. I'm willing
to bet you've got a wonderful layer of black lint stuck to your
leg."
"Isn't that going to make them a bit awkward
for puttin' back on, pet? Assumin', of course, that the Poof isn't
all talk about his la-de-da mates." Spike reached up to brush
a stray hair from Buffy's brow, his hand running through the pale
strands as she tilted her head back and stood on tiptoe to give
him another kiss.
She settled back on her heels before she answered.
"Xander brought spare clothes for everybody."
"If you think I'm going to wear Xander's
clown pants and Hawaiian shirt again, you've got another thing
comin'." His lips came to rest against Buffy's neck, kissing
a butterfly trail down to his claim mark where he lingered for
seconds as Buffy's breath began to come in sharp gasps. Still
their actions weren't rooted in their mutual passion, but in their
need to give physical expression to their emotional ties.
"Spi-ike. They could come back any time,
and you still have to get out of those clothes so we can see to
those burns."
"Don't think you heard me complaining about
the first bit." The sad smile that followed his words made
Buffy reach to cup the side of his face, before she drew him toward
the room's bathroom.
"We'll get you some of Angel's things if
we have to, but I'm fairly certain since it was Dawn who did the
packing that you'll have some of your own stuff."
"Should've said. Can trust the Niblet."
Spike waited while Buffy fiddled with the bathroom fittings, to
no effect.
A fact that was explained by Angel when, after
knocking softly on the room's outer door, he entered a few seconds
later carrying a large first aid kit, a bag with their clothes
and some sheets.
"The water's been drained from most of the
system. We could have a leak in one of these rooms for a month
before we'd know the difference otherwise. We'd need to take off
the bath panel to open it up.
Why don't you use my room? It's just down the
hall."
Angel looked at the stains that marked Spike's
shirt where it stuck to his body. "There's some salve for
burns in the kit, but there's more in the bathroom cabinet in
my room. You might want to grab it while you're there.
Fred got a hold of David Nabbit and he's got
a crew getting a helicopter fuelled and ready, but the pilot's
off duty and so far he's not answering his pages, and then we
have to hope he hasn't been drinking when they do track him down.
I'll make sure someone calls through to your room when we're ready
to leave. In the meantime, Willow and her friend are trying out
that location spell to see if they can pick up Lorne, so at least
we'll know if they move him.
And, Buffy, try to make sure he doesn't wander
round the hotel nude. The last thing we want is Gunn after what's
left of his hide for flashing his girlfriend."
He urged the couple toward the door. "Go
on. I'll make up the bed while you're doing that, and if you call
down to the desk when you get to the patching him up stage, I'll
bring some blood up."
It went against years of ingrained habit, but
Spike knew that Angel was doing everything he could to make them
feel welcome, and Spike felt some acknowledgement was needed.
Buffy was drawn to a stop, refusing to relinquish the grip she
had on his hand as he paused in the doorway. Even now, Spike still
couldn't bring himself to use Angel's chosen name so he stuck
with the slightly yobbish greeting. "Hoi."
Angel looked up from where he had already started
making the bed. Spike gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, mate."
Angel smiled in return. Cordy had been right
about Spike. He had changed. Maybe it had taken a tragedy for
the pair of them to cut through all the... How had she put it? The
"macho vampire crap". That didn't mean they couldn't
work from here.
Buffy and Spike lingered over the task of soaking
off his clothes, both of them ending up soaked before they were
done. They exchanged unhurried kisses and gentle caresses under
the shower's tepid spray. Finally, when they were both washed
up to her satisfaction, Buffy scooped up their wet clothes and
the ointment Angel had mentioned from the bathroom cabinet, and
they both made their way back to their own room.
Buffy called down to the main desk to let Angel
know they were finished in the bathroom, and minutes later he
appeared with a mug of blood.
He noticed Buffy had been careful to make sure
that Spike lay on his side with his back to the door and a towel
draped over the central part of his anatomy. This in spite of
the fact that the scarring above and below indicated that the
burns probably ran from his shoulder as far down as mid thigh.
Angel simply slipped the mug onto a dresser that
sat conveniently near the door. "Make sure he drinks that,"
he told Buffy before shutting the door and leaving them alone.
Buffy paused in what she was doing long enough
to pick up the mug and carry it over to Spike, She pulled the
towel aside and continued to rub in the salve, occasionally pausing
to kiss the unmarred side of his back as she worked with gentle
hands.
She looked up as Spike made a sputtering sound,
almost choking on the first mouthful from the mug.
"What's up? Cold?" Buffy asked.
Spike waited till his cough had died down a little
before he replied. "You could say that. Least room temperature.
'S his. Stupid bugger's gone and tapped a vein."
"Will it help you heal quicker?"
"Yeah, but... He didn't have to," Spike
protested.
Buffy snuggled as close to his back as she could
without pressing on his wounds, her arm resting against his side.
"That's probably why he did." She kissed him high up
on the side of his neck before scooting backwards off the bed.
Approaching from the other side she began to
apply the salve to the burns on his front.
"If this thing does end up in a fight, we
need you as healthy as possible."
Spike looked at her through dark lashes. "I
don't think that's why he did it, pet."
"Neither do I. But it's one reason to drink
it that you can't quibble about." She leant in to place a
kiss on the end of his nose. "Now, drink it all up or you
can't have any dessert."
A shadow of Spike's normal grin flickered briefly
across his face. "Promises, promises, love," he replied
before he dipped his head to take another sip from the mug.
