Adversaries: Part 3

Spike watched from his vantage point of a roof across the street, as Buffy sprinted from her Watcher’s car to the house, the witch Tara close behind her, carrying some sort of satchel.
Right on schedule. He knew she would come here as soon as she learned what had happened to Willow and Xander, and he knew what she was afraid she’d find: bits of Mum and Little Sis scattered across the house, courtesy of yours truly.

Must not have taken time to change before running off to deal with Big Bad, he thought. The Slayer was clad only in a pair of old sweatpants and sport bra, and the vampire’s eyes moved hungrily over the bare skin of her midriff, the swell of her full breasts.

But the fear in her face was the most intoxicating sight of all. “Not quite so easy to ignore, now, am I?” he murmured. In fact, Spike had the feeling he’d moved to the top of the Slayer’s To Do list.

She vanished into her house as Giles drove away, and Spike, shielded by the roofline settled back to await developments. They weren’t long in coming. As he watched, a pale glow, intangible to human eyes, but one which he was very familiar with, formed around Buffy’s front door. A few moments later, the first of the living room windows began to glow as well.

“Resealing the house against me, eh? Clever little witch.” He held a mental bet on whether they’d remember the basement entrance, but the glow inexorably formed around it as well.

Don’t suppose I’ll be getting hot chocolate with marshmallows any time soon, Spike smiled.

It was a pity that he hadn’t gotten around to Joyce and Dawn, at least to the point of taking them hostage, before Buffy got there. However, he had been focusing all of his energies on not thinking about what had happened – or more accurately, what hadn’t happened – in the alley.

Certainly, he’d intended to kill Willow. She was one of the original Scoobies, Buffy’s best friend, and it made a nice bit of irony in that he’d discovered what the Initiative had done to him when he had tried to bite her before.

But pressed up against her in the alley, with her begging him not to make her a vampire, she hadn’t been a Happy Meal on legs, or a way to get back at the Slayer, or any of those things. She’d simply been Willow, who hadn’t let him stake himself in Xander’s basement, who studied witchcraft and loved Tara, and who had always been kind.

The knowledge had made him as impotent as he’d ever been with the chip. Spike had to mentally run through every insult he’d received in the last six months to summon the demon back long enough for the minor bite he’d given her.

Well, so what? There’s no rule that says I have to kill everything in sight, Spike thought irritably, casting away his cigarette. It’s been awhile, after all. I probably need to ease back in. He knew he was lying to himself even as he thought it. He simply hadn’t wanted to kill her.

Even if they weren’t resealing the house, he wasn’t terribly sure he could kill Joyce either. There just weren’t that many people willing to analyze the deeper meaning of soap operas to the level that she was. He…liked…Joyce.

“Do not,” Spike told himself firmly. “Humans are food that’s all. Cattle.”

Buffy’s porch light flipped on and the front door opened to allow Slayer and witch to emerge. She had taken time to change into jeans and sweater he noted with regret. But she was still beautiful, and still dangerous. He was quite sure there were stakes concealed in her sleeves and one in her belt if he wasn't mistaken.

“Be careful,” he heard Joyce say.

“I will. Stay inside.” “Right.”

The door shut firmly. Buffy stood a moment on the top of her steps, hooded eyes scanning the street.

The hair on the back of Spike’s neck stood up, and he went very still. Part of him wanted to finish it between them that instant, but she was alert now, focused and furious and ready for the fight. There would be a better time. At least, he told himself that was why he waited.

-----
From her place, they went to Xander’s parents, who were fortunately out of town. Buffy used an old house key she had to let them into the basement. She didn’t really think Spike would go for them, but there was no point in taking chances, and this way, he couldn’t use the house as a hideout.

After that house was sealed, they went to Giles’ apartment and from there to Willow and Tara’s place. As Tara began the ritual once more, Buffy could tell that the witch was tiring.

“We can rest a while if you want,” she said, forcing herself to curb her impatience.

Tara shook her head. “I’m fine. This is the last place we have to do. Spike was never in Xander and Anya’s apartment, and we can’t seal The Magic Box, it’s public. Besides,” she finished, “I want to go to the hospital and see Willow.”

“I really appreciate what you’re doing,” Buffy said softly.

“It isn’t anything,” Tara said. “You’ve done so much for me. Most people would have made me go back with my…my f-f-father.” She swallowed against the stutter that still tied her tongue when she spoke of her family. “I’m just glad I can do something to help you, now.”

Buffy looked away, embarrassed. She didn’t deserve the other girl’s loyalty or friendship. Tara’s lover had been endangered because the Slayer had failed her duty. I’ll make it up to her, she promised herself. I’ll make it up to them all.

At last, the witches’ apartment was finished, and they headed for the hospital.

With the addition of Buffy and Tara, there was quite a crowd in Xander’s room. Xander was lying on the bed, bandaged and pale but cheerful enough. Anya was beside him, one of his hands held tightly in hers. Willow was sitting in a chair against the wall, and Giles had a chair that had a clear line of sight to the door. His hand tightened on the crossbow across his lap as they entered, but relaxed as he recognized them.

Tara crossed immediately to Willow and knelt, brushing gentle fingers over the bandage on her lover’s neck. Willow flinched but smiled a little at Tara’s acceptance of the bite.

Buffy looked at her Watcher. “Aren’t the doctors getting upset over the crossbow?”

“Willow performed a spell of non-importance. Anyone who doesn’t know it’s here won’t notice it, and if they should happen to, they will think it’s something harmless.” He watched her steadily. “Did anything happen?”

She shook her head. “But all our places are sealed up tight. Sp…he can’t get in.”

Buffy went to Xander and hugged him awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He returned her hug without reservation. “I must have hit my head harder than I thought, because I was sure it was Spike who did this.”

“You know what I mean,” she said softly.

“Yeah, I do. And I know you’re up for a game of blame-the-Slayer, but I’m not playing. Any of them could have done it, Buff.” He said more gently. “I didn’t think Spike was a real problem either.”

“He is definitely a problem,” Giles said thoughtfully. “However, it would appear that he isn’t working alone. Willow, tell Buffy what happened in the alley.”

Obediently, the red-haired witch described what Spike had said to her.

Buffy frowned. “The ‘pouf’ wasn’t lying? So somebody told him they took the chip out or told him it wasn’t working?”

“Correct,” Giles nodded. “It also sounds as if Spike didn’t instigate the removal.”

“Someone did it on their own?” Buffy said slowly.

Tara shook her head. “Why would anyone do that? There are lots of vampires around.”

“They knew he would go for Buffy, first thing,” Xander offered.

“Vampires try to kill me all the time,” Buffy said. “Almost nightly. If someone’s gunning for me, why not call up something more powerful than a vampire? Or burn down the house, or something?”

“Maybe they aren’t trying to kill you,” Willow said.

“Then what?”

“If they don’t want to kill you, then they must want to kill Spike,” Anya said logically. “They knew you’d try to kill him if they got rid of the chip.” She glared at Buffy. “You are going to kill him, right?”

“Yeah, I’m going to kill him,” Buffy said firmly. “In fact, I’m going out right now. Giles,” she cut off her Watcher. “No matter what else is going on, the fact remains that Spike is able to attack again, and he is dangerous.”

“What if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’m going in with my eyes open. I’m the Slayer,” she finished. “This is my job.”

He drew breath to protest further, looked into Buffy’s face and didn’t bother. The only way to stop her now would be if he shot her with the crossbow, and even then, she’d still crawl off after her enemy.

-----
It was almost a relief to be away from the others Buffy realized as she descended the hospital steps. She loved them all, even Anya, but now, by herself, she could drop the tough can-do mask.

This hurt so much more than it should, more than she had ever thought possible. Like I told Dawn, Buffy thought. He was always evil. I was just starting to forget.

Spike had seemed to want to help sometimes. He’d looked out for Dawn, sometimes seemed sympathetic to Buffy herself. Had it all been an act?

Apparently. He must have been getting in good with the gang, biding his time until he was free. And to think she’d started to occasionally feel guilty about always being so hard on him. How stupid could one Slayer get?

Buffy took a deep breath, banishing the weakness. Fortunately, she knew what to do now. She rounded the hospital until she found a loading dock that had been abandoned for the night. She sat on the edge and closed her eyes.

I really hate doing this, she thought, even as reached down inside for the core of her power. Although she always had Slayer abilities, bringing up the essence of the Slayer was a little different. All that made her Buffy – that talked and walked and sneezed and shopped – had to pretty much get out of the way.

Well, fine. Buffy had screwed up. She could just take a time-out for now. Let the Slayer handle this.

The power washed over her, cool and calm. Her senses extended and her emotions stilled. Worry, guilt, and pain receded into the back of her mind, leaving nothing but the task to be performed.

Rising to her feet, she began to Hunt.

-----
Spike strolled through Sunnydale, rejoicing in his newly-reclaimed power. Let’s see, I could bite you, or you, or you…. The wino in the alley, the cops who gave him a suspicious look as they passed, the woman waiting for a bus, none of them knew that they only lived by his generosity.

Then, he realized that he was finding reasons not to attack. The wino probably had lice. Cops were an unnecessary hassle. The woman waiting for the bus looked…tired.

“Shit!” he swore as he realized what he was doing. “I have not turned into bloody damn Angel!”

Ok, no more excuses. The next person he saw was his. Determined, he headed into the park. A courting couple, perhaps. Two for the price of one.

A muffled cry caught Spike’s attention and he moved deeper into the park. He was rounding a clump of underbrush, when a hand reached out and grabbed his sleeve.

“Wait a second,” hissed a familiar voice. “You’re going to mess everything up.”

Harmony.

Spike’s fangs bared as he saw his old lover peering over the bushes. “Sleeping well?” he snarled softly, still angry over the loss of his bedding.

“Don’t be mad, Spikey,” she whispered. “Look what I found. You can play too.”

He followed her pointing finger. Two men, shoving a girl back and forth between them, their hands moving over her body as she stumbled and tried to get away. Even as he watched, one of them tired of the teasing and grabbed the front of her blouse, ripping the buttons open. She staggered into a patch of moonlight and Spike saw her more clearly. One of the high-school girls he’d seen the other night, maybe a year or so older than Dawn.

“Wait ‘til they’re busy,” Harmony giggled, “I’ll do the bite and you can feed. I’ll even let you have her.”

The girl was down on the ground by now, one of the men kneeling over her with one of his hands over her mouth and the other one undoing his belt. Spike could hear her muffled sobbing.

“Why wait?” he said lightly and sprang as Harmony yelped in indignation behind him.

He ripped the man off the girl in one easy motion. Then, pivoting, he slung his captive into Harmony.

”There you go, Harm,” he said genially as he turned on man number two.

“What the…” was all he got out before his eyes grew huge at the sight of the demon and Spike struck.

Hot living blood spurted into his mouth, and he fed off the man like someone dying of thirst who comes upon a mountain stream. Oh, God, the taste after so long was incredible, unimaginable.

Even through the ecstasy, he noted that Harmony was busy with her own captive and that the girl was staring at them in stunned horror, too scared to move. He snarled at her silently, then turned his back to finish feeding on the man, never looking up even when he heard her stumble away.

Long moments later, Harmony let the man she held fall to the ground. “Since when can you bite people again? And where’s the girl?” she added petulantly.

“Since now. And she got away, I guess,” Spike grinned at Harmony as his body reacted to the pleasure of feeding in a different way. He reached out and grabbed her long hair, used it to yank her up against him. “Besides, what do I want her for?”

Harmony laughed as Spike’s hands began to slide roughly over her, the human girl forgotten.

Later that night, he lay beside her in her lair, replete from feeding and sex, and happy to be sleeping in an actual bed again. Who the hell needed Slayers or other humans, anyway? He closed his eyes in supreme contentment…and opened them to sunlight.

Spike knew a moment’s panic, then realized that he was dreaming. It had been decades since he’d dreamed of the day, but now he stood on the bank of a river with the light dancing on the ripples and currants. He could feel the sun on his face, the breeze ruffling his hair, and a sense of someone behind him.

He spun, automatically sliding into a fighting crouch. The girl seated under a large oak tree took no notice of him, her gaze remaining bent on the stake she was sharpening.

Slayer, his instincts said, and a pitiful excuse for a Slayer at that, the rest of his mind added. She was small, scrawny really, in patched jeans, and a man’s old flannel shirt that swamped her upper body. Her brown hair looked as if it had been hacked off with the knife she was using on the stake.

“You’re no prize yourself,” she observed in a voice that twanged the vowels in an unfamiliar way, and looked up at him with eyes as green as the grass where she sat, huge in her pointy cat’s face.

He blinked in surprise and was back in the bed next to Harmony.

“Stay out of my sodding head,” he told whatever might be listening. “I’m not interested in dreams or prophecies or whatever, thank you very much.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought he heard a snort of laughter.

The Slayer started at the Bronze. She moved along the perimeter of the crowd, senses at full extension. There was no sign of Spike, but she notice two other vampires and one Chaos Demon, all of whom took one look at her face and decided to take their business elsewhere.

She considered pursuit. Leaving vampires alive had gotten her into this in the first place, but she couldn’t kill them all tonight.

She left the Bronze, moved through the warren of alleys that lay behind it. Nothing. No sign.

Next, she went to Willie’s. The Slayer hadn’t more than cleared the door when the entire place fell silent except for a subdued growl and the sound of patrons moving away from her.

The bartender met her in the center of the floor.

“No one’s making trouble here,” he said. “No humans are in danger. There’s nothing for you to Slay.”

I should Slay everything in this place and burn it to the ground, the Slayer thought distantly. Why has it been allowed to stand for so long?

The Buffy part of her reached out and seized control long enough for the Slayer to stop considering a rampage and focus back on her task.

“I’m looking for the vampire called Spike,” she said to the bartender. “Have you seen him?”

He shook his head warily, eyes on the stake that rested in her belt.

“Will you call me if you do see him?”

“What’s in it for us?” said a voice from the crowd.

The Slayer turned, her eyes unerringly locating the speaker. The demon flinched as he met her gaze.

“I won’t be nearly as interested in you as I normally would be,” she said flatly and turned away. Conversation resumed nervously as she left. The bartender shook his head. Just for a minute, he’d had visions of severed limbs being thrown everywhere, and the Slayer had been more frightening than any monster.

Nothing in the caves under the Initiative. Nothing in the old high school. Even the normal levels of demonic activity had shut down as if the occult population of Sunnydale had heard that the Slayer wasn’t kidding around and had decided to have a quiet night in.

She ended at the cemetery as the sun was coming up, not really expecting to find him there and not disappointed. His armchair and television were still there, but the jumble of weapons in the chest was gone. Naturally, Spike would have moved headquarters first thing. Perhaps if she’d come here first she could have caught him, but Buffy…but she had to make sure of her friend’s safety first.

Buffy drew a deep breath, feeling the Slayer retreat, leaving extreme weariness behind. She’d been up all this past night and most of the night before, but the roller-coaster of emotion tired her more than the loss of sleep.

She was standing behind the armchair, which still held the imprint of Spike’s body. With a sudden snarl of rage, Buffy yanked the stake from her belt and plunged it into the back of the chair, directly where his heart would have been if he had been sitting there. Then, she did it a few more times until the back and seat of the chair were shredded. Finally, she picked up the remnants of the frame and hurled them into the television.

“There,” she said, her voice loud in the silence of the crypt. “I feel better.”

Giles was waiting in his car as she exited the cemetery. “They released Xander, and I’ve taken everyone home,” he said, his eyes on her tired face. “I gather you didn’t find him.”

“No,” she shook her head. “I’ll keep looking though. He’ll have to hole up for the day.”

“You will do no such thing. You will get in this car, I will take you home, and you will go straight to bed.” She started to protest, but he held up his hand. “This is not negotiable, Buffy. You’re tired and not thinking straight. If you don’t rest, your fighting ability will be affected. Do you want Spike to defeat you?”

She crawled into the car with bad grace. “I hate it when you’re right.”

At home, she collapsed across her bed and closed her eyes, dropping instantly into a deep sleep.

And found herself in the Magic Box. Tara was seated at the table where they usually gathered, looking at a laptop computer. Buffy walked up behind her and looked over the witch’s shoulder.

She seemed to be playing some sort of game. Two glowing spots of color, one white and one red, circled a large black spot. The white spot shot beams of light at the black and seemed to be hurting it, but the black was shooting back and it was a lot stronger. It also kept shifting, staying between the white and red spots.

“Like I told you, it's a very old story,” Tara said. She pressed a button, and the game shut down. As Buffy watched, Tara’s fingers moved over the keys and a word appeared.

Spirit-killer.

End Part 3

Part 4