Not in Kansas
Part 7
The pounding bass pulsed into the alleyway that led to the Bronze and vamps were everywhere. More than Spike had seen in one place in his unlife since . . . the last time he’d seen the Master, come to think of it. Old bastard always was one for the lackeys dancing attendance.
Xander cut a swath through the crowd, Willow trailing behind, beckoning him on with a crook of her fingers and a wink.
He followed.
He’d only met the Master once, more than a century ago. Long before he’d killed his first slayer, back when he was still wet behind the ears. It had been in Paris, after they’d fled to the continent in the wake of that bit of fun he’d had in Yorkshire.
Darla’d been insistent, had to go see Batface, bow and scrape and whatall. He’d followed along and been presented. Bucking Darla’s wishes was always a painful game to play and he’d broken a rib or two in Yorkshire.
But Angelus had kicked at the traces instead, and got them booted. He’d felt a brief bit of solidarity with Liam for that. Lasted until the next time he’d shagged Dru.
Course then the Master’d got himself caved in for several decades, Angelus got cursed, and Darla left him and Dru to his own devices. So much for family togetherness.
Xander nodded to the guard that stood in front of the curtained doorway. “Got someone the Master’ll want to meet.”
The guard nodded, holding aside the curtain for the trio to enter.
The Master turned, a small cup of blood delicately held in his clawlike hands. “Ah, Xander, Willow, you’ve returned. And who would this be?” He cocked his head to the side, studying intently. “Why, would this be William? My boy, you don’t call, you don’t write. What’s a great-great-grand-sire to do?”
Spike gritted his teeth. “So sorry. Heard you had quite a good thing going here. Had to come see it for myself.”
“Ah, news has traveled then?” The Master gave a little chuckle. “I’d so hoped to keep it under wraps until the plant was operational, but I suppose it’s to be expected. Vampires everywhere will be wanting to follow our model.”
“Bloody brilliant’s what I said,” Spike nodded. He knew bugger all what this plant was, but they certainly seemed excited about it.
“You’ll have to come for a tour then. The sun will be rising soon, shall we plan for tomorrow night? And will the lovely Drusilla be accompanying you?” the Master asked.
“I’m afraid Dru and I have parted ways,” Spike replied.
“Ah, young love, so fickle. Well, just you then, come tomorrow night. We’re doing some final adjustments. Xander’s my first-in-command, he’ll show you the way.” The Master turned away back towards a table of schematics, clearly dismissing them.
Willow followed the Master, giving him the eyes of a serial killer kitten. “May I please play with the puppy? He’s been all alone for three days. He won’t remember how to bark properly.”
The Master patted her cheek. “Lovely idea.” He tossed her the keys and she caught them, skipping towards the door. She paused and turned back. “You boys want to play?” she purred.
Xander shook his head. “Go ahead, baby. I’m going to talk with Spike.”
“’kay.” She blew him a kiss and was off.
+++++++++++
Coming back from the dead, she'd found the changes in her home slightly disorienting, the new couch, the unfamiliarity of Willow's things in the bathroom instead of her mother's shampoo. But her room was the same, the faded, dated posters still in place, old trinkets tacked to the pale striped wallpaper and pictures of her past reassuringly framing her mirror.
This? This was nothing like that.
The kitchen was festooned with a sprightly gingham that the vampire aesthetic must not have kicked in over yet, and the living room bore a similar floral infestation. Ms. Dusty hadn't had great taste, it seemed. Buffy sighed and slowly mounted the stairs, hoping she didn't have a Goldilocks like experience and discovered Mr. Dusty sacked out on a bed. She just needed some sleep and time for leg to heal.
The landing was dark and she moved almost instinctually towards her door and cautiously pushed it open. Strike one. Exercise room. She moved to Dawn's door. Strike two. Home office.
Buffy groaned. "Come on. Surely you're not sleeping in a coffin already, lady." She pushed open the door to the master bedroom and stared.
Although becoming a card-carrying member of the undead had not led to the over frilliness of the downstairs, either Dusty Girl had been a whole lot of kinky in life, or she'd gone for the Anne Rice Bedroom Makeover as soon as she rose. The entire room was done in shades of black and red, and screamed bordello, complete with some intricately placed chains.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, Spike would love this," she muttered as she headed towards the bed. She pulled pack the satin comforter and inspected the sheets. Either the dark color hid the blood of Dusty's victims or she didn’t eat in bed. Either way, they looked reasonably clean, and right now she just didn’t care.
Buffy slid into the bed and closed her eyes.
++++++++++
The curtain that separated the Master’s receiving room from the rest of the club was drawn back, and they exited into the main room of the Bronze, which was beginning to thin out from its crush of bodies as daylight approached. Xander headed towards the bar and a nod from him had two glasses of beer laced with blood before them immediately. Spike almost inhaled the glass, savoring the flavor of the human blood mingling with the harshness of the hops. It had been a long time.
“That’s good stuff,” he commented as he sat down the glass. “I’ll have another.”
“Yep. When the factory goes to full production, everyone’ll be able to have that at their fingertips. Fresh blood, fresh squeezed. Humans in, goodness out.” Xander sighed in satisfaction.
Spike almost choked on the second glass he’d begun to drink. “No more hunting?”
Xander smiled. “Just for fun. It’s the next step up the food chain. No more roaming the land and hiding underground. This kind of technology’s gonna change everything.”
Stupid git. What kind of vampires were these? Not hunt your food? What was the fun in that? Spike had been bagging it too long to relish the idea of bloody Henry Ford over there making bottled blood sound like a good thing.
“So how do you manage it? Keep the humans all cowed? They must know about all this.” He waved his hand expansively at the crowded club.
“Sure, but they’re so scared they won’t hardly come out at night anymore.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah, saw how deserted it was. But don’t they pull the ol’ Van Helsing now and then and try to come at you in the daytime? Or scare up a Slayer?”
Xander laughed. “On the hunt for another Slayer, huh? “Fraid you’ve come to the wrong place, my friend. The Slayer’s in Cleveland, doesn’t even know about us. And we plan to keep it that way.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Got a good set of witches to cast some spells, keep us off the Council’s radar.”
Witches? Spike shot Xander a glance. “Making good use of a witch, now that’s a trick. Always found them to be a pesky sort, prone to sell you out.”
Xander laughed. “Not when you keep them locked up and drain’m just a bit. Besides, they know what’ll happen if they don’t follow orders.”
Spike tucked away that bit of knowledge for future use before tossing back the last of the blood cocktail and licking the remnants form his lips. “Well, mate, it’s been a pleasure, but I think I’d best be off to find myself some quarters ‘fore the sunrise.”
“Want to come with us? Willow wouldn’t mind a new bedmate.”
The invitation hung in the air and Spike felt a wave of remembrance of the days he’d spent with Darla, Angelus, and Dru roll over him. It would be so easy to follow Xander home, share the redhead between them, and fall asleep flush with warm blood and sex.
But Buffy was out there alone. As seductive as this world was for a vamp, she was what he wanted.
“’preciate the offer, but I’d like to get myself settled in, find my own digs.”
Xander nodded. “Not a problem. Plenty of empty houses in this town to pick from, if you don’t like the dark and dank scene. See you tomorrow night, then?”
“Absolutely.”
He headed for the exit as Willow prowled up to the bar and ran her nails up Xander’s arm. “Aw, did the new boy run away?”
Xander smiled at her fondly. “He did, wanted to find his own place. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Can we play with him then?” Willow asked.
“I think we might can, sweet, I think we might can.”
++++++++++
It hadn't taken him long after leaving Xander and Willow to pick up on her scent. There wasn't much interference in the deserted streets and he found himself on Revello nearly an hour before daybreak.
"Surprise, surprise, straight home to the nest, eh, pidge?" He circled the house and found the back door with the busted lock. "And breakin' and enterin' too? My kind of girl. Stupid to leave it this way though."
He pushed open the door tentatively and found no barrier as he crossed the threshold. Must be one of the deserted homes Xander had mentioned. He closed the door back and propped a door under the knob. Not much of an impediment, but after what he'd seen tonight, he’d like a bit of a warning if a big and nasty was going to stumble across him in his sleep.
He slipped through the kitchen and mounted the stairs, alert to the small sounds of the night. She was upstairs, but nothing else seemed to be stirring. He checked the other rooms and found them quiet and deserted before stopping outside the one she was in.
Her mother’s room, the one Red slept in now.
He touched the door, willing her to have calmed by now. He never knew which Buffy he was getting these days or whether she’d greet him with a kiss or a fist.
He turned the knob and slid open the door. “Buffy?”
She was fast asleep, curled tightly beneath a crimson comforter with only her face exposed. He could see the play of her emotions, peace eluding her even in her sleep.
Spike thought for a minute, then decided she probably didn’t have a stake beneath the covers, before shucking off his shirt and jeans and sliding into the bed behind her. Her body heat had created a pool of warmth and he sighed and curled closer. She almost never stayed long enough to fall asleep after one of their shagfests, and as she relaxed against his body in her slumber he felt an almost boneless sense of satisfaction. Didn’t matter what universe they were in. He was home.
The pounding bass pulsed into the alleyway that led to the Bronze and vamps were everywhere. More than Spike had seen in one place in his unlife since . . . the last time he’d seen the Master, come to think of it. Old bastard always was one for the lackeys dancing attendance.
Xander cut a swath through the crowd, Willow trailing behind, beckoning him on with a crook of her fingers and a wink.
He followed.
He’d only met the Master once, more than a century ago. Long before he’d killed his first slayer, back when he was still wet behind the ears. It had been in Paris, after they’d fled to the continent in the wake of that bit of fun he’d had in Yorkshire.
Darla’d been insistent, had to go see Batface, bow and scrape and whatall. He’d followed along and been presented. Bucking Darla’s wishes was always a painful game to play and he’d broken a rib or two in Yorkshire.
But Angelus had kicked at the traces instead, and got them booted. He’d felt a brief bit of solidarity with Liam for that. Lasted until the next time he’d shagged Dru.
Course then the Master’d got himself caved in for several decades, Angelus got cursed, and Darla left him and Dru to his own devices. So much for family togetherness.
Xander nodded to the guard that stood in front of the curtained doorway. “Got someone the Master’ll want to meet.”
The guard nodded, holding aside the curtain for the trio to enter.
The Master turned, a small cup of blood delicately held in his clawlike hands. “Ah, Xander, Willow, you’ve returned. And who would this be?” He cocked his head to the side, studying intently. “Why, would this be William? My boy, you don’t call, you don’t write. What’s a great-great-grand-sire to do?”
Spike gritted his teeth. “So sorry. Heard you had quite a good thing going here. Had to come see it for myself.”
“Ah, news has traveled then?” The Master gave a little chuckle. “I’d so hoped to keep it under wraps until the plant was operational, but I suppose it’s to be expected. Vampires everywhere will be wanting to follow our model.”
“Bloody brilliant’s what I said,” Spike nodded. He knew bugger all what this plant was, but they certainly seemed excited about it.
“You’ll have to come for a tour then. The sun will be rising soon, shall we plan for tomorrow night? And will the lovely Drusilla be accompanying you?” the Master asked.
“I’m afraid Dru and I have parted ways,” Spike replied.
“Ah, young love, so fickle. Well, just you then, come tomorrow night. We’re doing some final adjustments. Xander’s my first-in-command, he’ll show you the way.” The Master turned away back towards a table of schematics, clearly dismissing them.
Willow followed the Master, giving him the eyes of a serial killer kitten. “May I please play with the puppy? He’s been all alone for three days. He won’t remember how to bark properly.”
The Master patted her cheek. “Lovely idea.” He tossed her the keys and she caught them, skipping towards the door. She paused and turned back. “You boys want to play?” she purred.
Xander shook his head. “Go ahead, baby. I’m going to talk with Spike.”
“’kay.” She blew him a kiss and was off.
+++++++++++
Coming back from the dead, she'd found the changes in her home slightly disorienting, the new couch, the unfamiliarity of Willow's things in the bathroom instead of her mother's shampoo. But her room was the same, the faded, dated posters still in place, old trinkets tacked to the pale striped wallpaper and pictures of her past reassuringly framing her mirror.
This? This was nothing like that.
The kitchen was festooned with a sprightly gingham that the vampire aesthetic must not have kicked in over yet, and the living room bore a similar floral infestation. Ms. Dusty hadn't had great taste, it seemed. Buffy sighed and slowly mounted the stairs, hoping she didn't have a Goldilocks like experience and discovered Mr. Dusty sacked out on a bed. She just needed some sleep and time for leg to heal.
The landing was dark and she moved almost instinctually towards her door and cautiously pushed it open. Strike one. Exercise room. She moved to Dawn's door. Strike two. Home office.
Buffy groaned. "Come on. Surely you're not sleeping in a coffin already, lady." She pushed open the door to the master bedroom and stared.
Although becoming a card-carrying member of the undead had not led to the over frilliness of the downstairs, either Dusty Girl had been a whole lot of kinky in life, or she'd gone for the Anne Rice Bedroom Makeover as soon as she rose. The entire room was done in shades of black and red, and screamed bordello, complete with some intricately placed chains.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, Spike would love this," she muttered as she headed towards the bed. She pulled pack the satin comforter and inspected the sheets. Either the dark color hid the blood of Dusty's victims or she didn’t eat in bed. Either way, they looked reasonably clean, and right now she just didn’t care.
Buffy slid into the bed and closed her eyes.
++++++++++
The curtain that separated the Master’s receiving room from the rest of the club was drawn back, and they exited into the main room of the Bronze, which was beginning to thin out from its crush of bodies as daylight approached. Xander headed towards the bar and a nod from him had two glasses of beer laced with blood before them immediately. Spike almost inhaled the glass, savoring the flavor of the human blood mingling with the harshness of the hops. It had been a long time.
“That’s good stuff,” he commented as he sat down the glass. “I’ll have another.”
“Yep. When the factory goes to full production, everyone’ll be able to have that at their fingertips. Fresh blood, fresh squeezed. Humans in, goodness out.” Xander sighed in satisfaction.
Spike almost choked on the second glass he’d begun to drink. “No more hunting?”
Xander smiled. “Just for fun. It’s the next step up the food chain. No more roaming the land and hiding underground. This kind of technology’s gonna change everything.”
Stupid git. What kind of vampires were these? Not hunt your food? What was the fun in that? Spike had been bagging it too long to relish the idea of bloody Henry Ford over there making bottled blood sound like a good thing.
“So how do you manage it? Keep the humans all cowed? They must know about all this.” He waved his hand expansively at the crowded club.
“Sure, but they’re so scared they won’t hardly come out at night anymore.”
Spike nodded. “Yeah, saw how deserted it was. But don’t they pull the ol’ Van Helsing now and then and try to come at you in the daytime? Or scare up a Slayer?”
Xander laughed. “On the hunt for another Slayer, huh? “Fraid you’ve come to the wrong place, my friend. The Slayer’s in Cleveland, doesn’t even know about us. And we plan to keep it that way.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Got a good set of witches to cast some spells, keep us off the Council’s radar.”
Witches? Spike shot Xander a glance. “Making good use of a witch, now that’s a trick. Always found them to be a pesky sort, prone to sell you out.”
Xander laughed. “Not when you keep them locked up and drain’m just a bit. Besides, they know what’ll happen if they don’t follow orders.”
Spike tucked away that bit of knowledge for future use before tossing back the last of the blood cocktail and licking the remnants form his lips. “Well, mate, it’s been a pleasure, but I think I’d best be off to find myself some quarters ‘fore the sunrise.”
“Want to come with us? Willow wouldn’t mind a new bedmate.”
The invitation hung in the air and Spike felt a wave of remembrance of the days he’d spent with Darla, Angelus, and Dru roll over him. It would be so easy to follow Xander home, share the redhead between them, and fall asleep flush with warm blood and sex.
But Buffy was out there alone. As seductive as this world was for a vamp, she was what he wanted.
“’preciate the offer, but I’d like to get myself settled in, find my own digs.”
Xander nodded. “Not a problem. Plenty of empty houses in this town to pick from, if you don’t like the dark and dank scene. See you tomorrow night, then?”
“Absolutely.”
He headed for the exit as Willow prowled up to the bar and ran her nails up Xander’s arm. “Aw, did the new boy run away?”
Xander smiled at her fondly. “He did, wanted to find his own place. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Can we play with him then?” Willow asked.
“I think we might can, sweet, I think we might can.”
++++++++++
It hadn't taken him long after leaving Xander and Willow to pick up on her scent. There wasn't much interference in the deserted streets and he found himself on Revello nearly an hour before daybreak.
"Surprise, surprise, straight home to the nest, eh, pidge?" He circled the house and found the back door with the busted lock. "And breakin' and enterin' too? My kind of girl. Stupid to leave it this way though."
He pushed open the door tentatively and found no barrier as he crossed the threshold. Must be one of the deserted homes Xander had mentioned. He closed the door back and propped a door under the knob. Not much of an impediment, but after what he'd seen tonight, he’d like a bit of a warning if a big and nasty was going to stumble across him in his sleep.
He slipped through the kitchen and mounted the stairs, alert to the small sounds of the night. She was upstairs, but nothing else seemed to be stirring. He checked the other rooms and found them quiet and deserted before stopping outside the one she was in.
Her mother’s room, the one Red slept in now.
He touched the door, willing her to have calmed by now. He never knew which Buffy he was getting these days or whether she’d greet him with a kiss or a fist.
He turned the knob and slid open the door. “Buffy?”
She was fast asleep, curled tightly beneath a crimson comforter with only her face exposed. He could see the play of her emotions, peace eluding her even in her sleep.
Spike thought for a minute, then decided she probably didn’t have a stake beneath the covers, before shucking off his shirt and jeans and sliding into the bed behind her. Her body heat had created a pool of warmth and he sighed and curled closer. She almost never stayed long enough to fall asleep after one of their shagfests, and as she relaxed against his body in her slumber he felt an almost boneless sense of satisfaction. Didn’t matter what universe they were in. He was home.