Slay me; Save me: Chapter 9: And the award for best vampire in a leading role goes to...(part 2)
Title: Slay me, Save me
Chapter 9: And the award for best vampire in a leading role goes to... (part 2)
Pairing: Spike, Giles & the Sunnydale gang
Rating: Just spike swearing, nothing too graphic
Summary: Spike's in with the Scoobies, except there's a seriously pissed off Slayer to contend with. Can this vampire and Slayer ever reconcile their differences? Plus, the gang pool their resources in an attempt to locate Angel.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters etc..
Feedback: Always welcome.
Type your cut contents here.
Chapter 9: …and the award for best vampire in a leading role goes to…(part 2)
In the end, it wasn’t as bad as Spike had feared. He had fretted, yes fretted, through the night about meeting the ‘Scoobies,’ and had a game plan as to how he would react if their reaction was less than expected. He would surely need all his acting skills if he was to convince anyone he was a reformed character. Best vampire in a leading role, indeed. However, Xander had greeted the vampire like an old army buddy, clapping the blond on the back, remembering old scrapes they had gotten into in LA and introducing his new girlfriend, the ex. vengeance demon, Anya. She was as expected, blunt to the point of rudeness and still at odds with the world in her human guise. Willow, sweet Willow, calmly accepted the vampire on absolute trust; anything Rupert Giles said was ok, was ok with her and any reservations she had were forgotten as she watched the easy way the vampire acted with her former Librarian. She introduced the only member of the group Spike didn’t know anything about; a softly spoken, fair haired girl named Tara. She shook his hand and announced she loved all things English and would love to talk to him about England. Spike soon found she expected all Englishmen to behave like something out of a Jane Austin novel, tough and brusque, but with a heart of gold under the stiff upper lip; arsey Darcy and all that. She believed a country that had produced Shakespeare and Turner must be beautiful; Spike thinking she was in for rough ride as that same country had also spawned football hooligans, the BNP and William the Bloody, fangless, it was true, but with a vicious lip that could fell a platoon at twenty paces.
After the excited welcome from the assembled gathering, Giles had tried to attract Spike’s attention, but the vampire was too engrossed in whatever Willow was showing him on the computer, and then it was too late as Buffy entered the shop from the training basement. Spike saw her and froze, expecting the Slayer to fly at him with a stake or rant and rave; but she did neither, simply walking up to Xander, sitting beside the boy and quietly asking what he was doing. The pair engaged in light banter as the Slayer was shown the chapter on demonic spell casting Xander was researching. The vampire looked at the ex. Watcher, who only nodded, removed his glasses, cleaned the lenses and put them back on again, before asking if anyone wanted anything to drink. Spike sat between Willow and Tara, self-conscious and uncomfortable, trying to concentrate, but needing to know what the Slayer was doing and saying at all times; because his life depended on that chit of a girl’s acceptance. After several hours of quiet research, they broke for donuts, Giles announcing that was enough for one night, but if everyone was agreeable, they would meet again tomorrow.
“Good,” Anya said to Xander, “because I haven’t had sexual release today and you promised we would have sexual release on a daily basis.”
Tara looked away and Giles frowned, Xander whispering into the ex. vengeance demon’s ear, “As soon as we get home, honey, I’m ripping your bra off.”
“Why,” an eavesdropping vampire asked, “are the straps killing you?”
Standing, the boy said, “You come here, a desperado vampire, in need of our assistance and already you start with the quips, deadboy, I gotta admire your balls.”
“Maybe later, mate,” Spike replied, “if that’s what you really want to do; I’ve got a good set.” Pointing to Anya, he added, “Does your girlfriend have trouble finding yours, let alone admiring them?”
“Xander has very nice balls,” Anya announced, “I’ve seen them and held them and licked…”
“Thank you, Anya,” Willow said, collecting cups and taking them to the kitchen. “I think we get the picture without the explicit description.” Tara giggled behind a hand as she accompanied the redhead.
Anya was puzzled. “What did I say wrong? Xander, tell me, was I wrong to correct Spike? The vampire made a scurrilous remark and I corrected him; was that wrong?”
“No, sweetheart, you were right, but the timing and place was wrong,” Xander said glaring at Spike, who shrugged.
“Then when is the right time and place?” The ex demon asked, still confused over human etiquette. “Is it in bed, before or after sexual intercourse?”
“During,” Spike answered, “right when loverboy’s at the vinegar strokes; bound to put him off his poke.”
“Vinegar strokes?” Anya asked, genuinely interested. “What is that? Is it…?”
“I think we need to be elsewhere, Anya,” Xander said, taking his girlfriend by the arm.
“But I…” she protested. “How can William the Bloody say what he likes and no one reprimands him? He’s a murderer and could kill us all as we sit here, but no one seems to care; lets him say whatever he likes.”
“Spike’s had a little trip to the vet, love, and now he doesn’t chase the other puppies anymore,” Spike explained, pursing his lips.
“That’s illegal, isn’t it?” Anya asked, confused.
Spike lit up, ignoring the frown from Giles. “What is, darling, square dancing in a round room?”
“Not being able to bite and kill,” Anya said, “it’s what vampires do; their only reason for being.”
“Seems you might know a thing or two about killing, girlie, I hear you sent many a man to his doom in your demon days,” Spike teased.
“I don’t do that anymore, not that I wouldn’t want to, there are millions of men who deserve to die, hordes of cheating, lying…”
“Time to go, honey,” Xander said, pulling the complaining girl out the door and waving goodbye.
Tara approached Spike and extended a hand, the vampire taking it as the distinctive aroma of Willow assaulted his nostrils. She was covered in the redhead’s scent; it oozed from every pore of the girl and Spike grinned. Well, well, well, the little witch has a girlfriend too, that was unexpected. He hadn’t noticed it before; so preoccupied with the Slayer as he was. A vision of the women in bed doing dirty things to each other flashed into his head and he pulled the surprised girl into an embrace and kissed her cheek. “Mind how you go, pet,” he whispered into an ear, “and have one on me later on.”
“Tara doesn’t drink and neither do I, Spike,” Willow said, gathering several books to take home.
“I meant,” the grinning vampire explained, “a drink from the furry cup; the chalice from the fanlay palace, holding the brew that is true.”
“Who would have a fur lined cup? It doesn’t make sense and we…oh…ahh. Tara, let’s get out of here.” Grabbing Tara’s sleeve, Willow exited quickly.
And then there were three.
Buffy was putting on a jacket as Giles called out from the kitchen as casually as he could, “Buffy, why don’t you take Spike on patrol with you tonight, show him around; he could be very useful.” She smiled and nodded, opening the door and waiting outside.
Spike elbowed the ex. Watcher roughly. “I don’t see why I have to patrol with her; I’d rather stay in and watch television. It’s often more fun than killing things, and they’re repeating the first series of ‘Dr Quim: Madwoman,’ later on.”
“You’ll do as you are told and you will be nice,” Giles ordered.
“Nice? I’m a big, bad…”
“Go!”
“And what’s she doing here anyway,” Spike asked, angry at having to be anywhere near the Slayer, “You said she wasn’t coming back ‘till later in the week?”
“She got bored with Disneyland and returned sooner!” Giles explained.
“Bored with Disneyland? How old is she, forty two? She must’ve had an abusive paper round, the b…”
“Go! Now!” Giles commanded, daring to push the irate vampire towards the door and cuff the back of his head.
“Ow!”
Giles sighed. “Oh, for goodness sake, Spike, that didn’t hurt.”
Rubbing the back of his head and screwing his face up, Spike moaned, “That’s where the chip is. And you got it right on the ‘on’ switch.”
Still directing the complaining yob outside, Giles said, “You’ve no idea where the chip is, so stop crying and making things up to sound interesting. Just go!”
Muttering to himself; Spike joined Buffy as the girl took off into the night.
“Wait up, Slayer, where are we…?”
“Don’t talk to me!”
“What?”
“Don’t talk.”
“I want to…”
“What part of ‘don’t talk,’ don’t you understand, Spike? I know you’re not the brightest light on the Christmas tree, but I thought even you would understand that simple order.”
“Who lit the fuse on your tampon?”
Spinning around to face the vampire, Buffy accused, “You might be able to fool everyone else, but you don’t fool me. You’re a manipulative, callous killer; always were and always will be. I’m tolerating your intolerable presence because Giles asked me to and because we all want to find Angel, but believe me when I tell you, that when all this is over, I’m going to stake you.”
“You think I’m an animal.”
“No, animals I like. We had a dog when I was little and it went mad; we put it down.”
“I’ve changed; I have a soul now.”
“You have a soul; big on originality there; so does every murderer.”
“It’s changed me.”
“What, that thing you call a soul?” Buffy ridiculed. “That’s not change, that’s just a muzzle on a rabid Rottweiler, holding your true instincts in check, and if it wasn’t for the chip in your head, you’d be back tearing throats out. You’re no different to a serial killer in prison, you want to kill, but can’t at the moment, but you will, the moment you’re free.”
Spike grinned. “Well, pet, people strike up friendships with serial killers all the time; some bitches even marry ‘em.”
“You are not people.”
“I might say the same about you,” Spike said, waggling his eyebrows.
Folding her arms, Buffy ordered, “Hit me.”
“I always thought you had a screw loose, now I know,” Spike said, staring at Burry with a comical, wide-eyed look.
“Hit me!” Buffy repeated. “I want to see if what Xander said about you is true or you’ve been duping us from the start.”
“I’m not going to hit you,” Spike said, lighting up and tilting his head.
“Then if I throw a stick, will you leave?”
“That’s what’s so enchanting about you, Slayer; you’re like a Barbie doll on crack with permanent PMS, but far less attractive.”
“You’re still in league with the devil, Spike, admit it, you’ve got some fiendish plan to off us all and take over the world.”
Spike nodded, knowingly. “Yes, I am an agent of Satan, but these days I’ve been largely consigned to filing and handing out library book fines; now can we make with the nice and play at patrolmen like Mr Giles asked?”
“How about never; is never good for you?”
“I don’t know what your problem is, Slayer, but I bet there’s tons of books on it, all containing long, unpronounceable words to describe your issues; now I’ve got a load of bad Karma to burn off, so let’s say we go our separate ways and find a cemetery far from each other to patrol.”
“As if I’d let you out of my sight,” Buffy said; pointing east. “You’re coming with me so I can keep you under control.”
“Make your mind up, love; come, go; go, come back, what do you want?”
“I want you gone.”
Spike looked to the heavens. “Here we go again.”
“Just follow me and don’t talk.”
“Lips are zipped,” Spike said, drawing fingers across his mouth.
“Don’t start with me, Spike, you will not win,” Buffy warned.
The odd couple walked towards the nearest cemetery.
***
“Spike has some kind of freedom pass, like the FBI or other secret organisations so he can access all areas. He can do and say whatever he likes; go wherever he wants without anyone challenging him,” Anya said to no one in particular. The ex. vengeance demon made herself useful and did all that was requested of her, but somehow, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut. Xander tried to rein his girlfriend in, but gave up and let her jabber, hoping, as they all did, that she would wear herself out. She advised everyone that a crucifix had been placed in the till to prevent those allergic to crosses from helping themselves to her hard earned cash, and reminded Giles to lock up every night as valuables on display in the shop would temp thieves. Giles sighed, Spike gritted his teeth and everyone else kept busy as Anya leapt up to rub garlic around the safe.
The group had assembled at The Magic Shop as usual, but tonight they were going to attempt to locate Angel or Lindsey Mcdonald using a new method Tara had uncovered in a chapter of ‘The Klossberg Chronicles,’ a German book on Witchcraft of the twentieth century. Ignoring Giles and Willow’s concerns, she wanted to perform the ritual herself to prove to everyone she was a useful member, rather than just ‘Willow’s friend.’
Spike was all for the girl having a go, even though he had never been a fan of magic, having witnessed countless catastrophes when Drusilla had used arcane arts; but then his dark Princess had been a complete fruitcake and he didn’t think the softly spoken new girl preparing the ingredients was a nutter. However, it was always the quiet ones. The vampire was keen to get moving, it had been a week since they’d first gathered and he was becoming restless; needing to be doing something positive, missing Angel more with each passing day. Plus he was randy as hell; a vampire could only live on so much self abuse, even with the added thrill of Giles catching him having a wank.
He looked over at the Slayer who was sitting on the spiral staircase leading up to where Giles kept his private collection of books and curios and thought back to that first night when they had gone out on patrol. He had stuck to his word and not spoken, but it had been a slow, quiet night and the girl obviously wanted a fight, so kept needling him and of course, being the vampire he was, he retaliated. Soon they were arguing like an old married couple out for their cemetery constitutional, thrusting and parrying like good ‘uns; so intense was their sparring, that they had failed to notice a cadre of thugs leap from the roof of a mausoleum, flattening them both. It hadn’t taken long for Spike and Buffy to realise the gang were pretty new to the ranks of the undead and within minutes the vampire posse were dust. Wiping themselves down, the pair continued bickering, taking in a sweep of three further cemeteries and ending the shift by checking the college grounds, before parting. The next night had been the same: ignoring each other at The Magic Shop, then laying into each other verbally on patrol whilst taking care of Sunnydale’s demon population. One night, after giving a particularly loathsome pair of demons a sound beating, but letting them live; Buffy found Spike kneeling beside a grave, one she avoided for fear of never leaving it.
“You have no right to be here,” she said. “You desecrate her memory and foul the air around her with your mere presence.”
“You’re right, “Spike said, his voice choking, “I have no rights. I just wanted to pay my respects to a remarkable woman, that’s all. I’ll be elsewhere if you need to be here on your own.”
They never spoke of Joyce Summers again.
On another occasion, the pair stumbled upon a nest of vampires, some fifteen of the slavering beasts, for that was what they were, as they raped and tore apart a young couple. It was too late for the boy and girl, but they could at least send their murderers back to hell where they belonged. Having taken care of a dozen frenzied demons between them, Buffy had found herself cornered by two huge things, one swinging Nunchaku and the other wielding a Bo Staff. She had taken several hits to the brow with the Nunchaku and Spike could smell her blood as he kicked a struggling hoodlum in the bollocks and leapt over to grab the Bo Staff from the grinning vampire about to run the Slayer through. Punching the enraged demon in the face and severing an arm, Spike coolly stated, “No one kills the Slayer while I’m around, mate, and not some badly dressed deadbeat with a ‘Flock of Seagulls’ haircut.” Thumping the wooden end of the staff into its chest, Spike added, “Her death’s reserved for me.”
Admiring his handiwork, the show off vampire was caught unawares and struck hard on the head from behind. Stumbling and suffering a vicious kick to the back of his knee, Spike was lying supine on the ground; a pair of thighs either side of his head. Growling in anger, the outraged ensouled vampire grasped his assailant around the neck, only to cry out as the chip in his brain fired. Through the nauseating pain, Spike realised the bastard crushing him and smashing his face with a tyre iron, was human, and as he struggled in vain to free himself from the potentially deadly situation, saw a flash of blonde hair as Buffy effortlessly ripped the hoodlum from him and raised a stake.
“Don’t!” Spike managed to splutter, clutching his head. “Don’t stake him, Buffy…he’s human.”
Later, walking back to college, having helped Spike to recover and clean up, Buffy asked, “Why did you stop me killing that man?”
“He wasn’t a vamp,” Spike said, shrugging.
“You could have let me stake him and …”
“Let you hate yourself forever for killing something you’re sworn to protect, even though he was cavorting with killers and in the process of becoming one of them?”
“Something like that.” Turning to face the vampire, Buffy asked, “You really couldn’t fight back, could you, Spike?”
“Too busy dealing with an exploding brain at the time; even a twelve year old human could poke my eyes out and I wouldn’t be able to defend myself. Look, I’m not here to cause you grief, Slayer, much as it would give me pleasure to do so. I’m here to find Angel and only for that reason. I want him back, you don’t know how much I want him back, and I want him back safe. Once I find him, I’ll be off and out of your way, but I can’t do it on my own, I need help and I’m not too proud to beg.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, parting at Buffy’s house.
“I want him back safe too,” she said; Spike nodding, lighting up and making his way back to Giles’ house.
So, they weren’t bosom buddies, but at least they weren’t pretending the other didn’t exist or constantly at each other’s throats, which made it easier to be around the others and allowed Giles to breath easier.
Concentrating on the task in hand, Spike joined the circle surrounding Tara on the floor, and was instructed to hold a bunch of dry wheat that had been liberally sprinkled with aromatic herbs and amber shavings. He was to light the sprig on Willow’s command and walk around the periphery; not entering or breaking the ring, chanting words written on a scrap of paper Giles had given him. Buffy was to do the same in the opposite direction, responding to Spike’s caller role. Giles flicked the dimmer switch, lit candles and sat in his allotted place, facing Tara; Willow, Xander and Anya completing the circle. Dropping burning sachets into a clay pot at the centre, Tara began the incantation, anchored by her girlfriend who rubbed scented water over her forehead and face. At the given command, the participants joined hands and Willow signaled Spike and Buffy to commence their role. Tara began moaning almost immediately and Spike thought he saw her face flash to that of another, but dismissed the idea as fanciful when he saw the girl’s pretty face through the haze of smoke. Suddenly, Tara’s head snapped back and her body began to shake; Willow clasping her hand tighter but having the presence of mind not to break the connection. The fog surrounding the group thickened, changing to a pale blue and there was a distinct chill in the air as the entranced girl spoke.
“The wolf has released the ram and now pursues the hart,” she said in a strange, husky voice. “He has taken refuge at the core of his aspiration, but they have neither eyes nor ears to notice his presence. Ahhh…seek the one who watches with jealousy in her breast; she is beautiful like the rose, but acts the serpent ‘neath it; she will bend to your will if only for her own vaunting ambition.”
Spike wanted to shake the girl and tell her to stop speaking in riddles, but he knew from the bollocks that used to spew from Drusilla’s mouth, you needed to see beyond the shite to understand all that was being relayed from the spirit world.
“Azrael keeps him bound and Raphael lies bleeding…again and again and again; his suffering is eternal, his torment perpetual. He cries out for you…what is it you say? Tell me…” The girl’s voice flattened, deepened in resonance, “Childe…help me, I weep from loss of you and cannot find a way through; light my darkness, be my mirror and show me home…I will ever be powerfully, painfully, eternally in love…oh…”
The vampire was at her side immediately. “It’s Angel, isn’t it? He’s trying to get through; trying to ask for me; those are the things he said to me; things only he would know. He’s hurt and he wants me to come to him. Ask him where he is, how we can get to him. Ask him, damn you, girl!” Spike was yelling in Tara’s ear, but the girl was oblivious and Giles asked him firmly, but gently, to go back to chanting. He started to argue, but saw the resolved look on Willow’s face and, containing his anger and frustration, joined Buffy walking around the circle. His mind was in turmoil; it had to be Angel, it couldn’t be anyone or anything else. His Sire needed his Childe and he had to reach him. “From hell with haste,” he muttered, “let me get to him.”
Tara looked directly at the agitated vampire; eyes wild and staring. “Beware the glory that is god for it will destroy the first man… so sad, sleeping forever in Seattle, and no one will love him a hundred years. ‘Dw i’n dy garu di’, he says, but will never hear it in return. No, stop, please…he’s hurting me…”
“Tara, baby; are you all right?” Willow asked, wanting to take her girl in her arms. “You need to come back to us now, break the spell or…”
The scream was terrible, but the vision even worse. Tara’s skin began to darken and weird symbols appeared all over her body, the marks blistering and bursting, oozing a colourless fluid.
“To find that which you seek, you must enter the belly of the beast,” the girl rasped. “He is in their midst and…oh, unspeakable horror! He, who fell from heaven and was given the promise of redemption, wanders the bottomless pit still, pleads forgiveness and cannot find salvation. It is closer than you imagine; look with eyes that cannot see. He that that has ears; let him hear. Childe, he begs you come release him…hell is murky, fie my lord, a vampire and afeared, as you have said…” She screamed again and Willow broke the circle, cradling the quivering girl in her arms.
“Buffy, Spike, extinguish the flames and scatter Rosemary around the room,” Willow ordered. “Now, do it now, Xander, help them! Anya, get cold water and a cloth; Giles, Tara needs us, help me bring her back.”
***
Still unconscious, but with no visible signs of physical injury, Giles carried Tara to the basement, where he and Willow bathed her with cool water, the redhead whispering soothing words as she stroked her lover’s face. Opening her eyes and seeing the face of her beloved, Tara asked, “Was I brave?”
“Yes, baby,” Willow said, “you were brave; the bravest kitten I know. Amelia Earhart would be so proud of you.”
Tara smiled; the aviatrix had been a childhood heroine of hers. “Did the others think I was brave? I tried so hard to hold on, but the pain…so much pain and unhappiness; and anger, there were so many angry voices…” Kissing her girlfriend’s brow, Willow told her everyone was very proud and the exhausted girl smiled again. “I’m sorry, Willow, but I have to sleep now; will you be here when I wake up?”
Cradling her safely in loving arms, Willow said, “Always.”
Watching the scene, Buffy asked Spike if he had made sense of anything Tara had said when she was in her trance. Spike shrugged and started on Xander, because he could, criticising the boy for failing to set up a tape recorder as now they’d have to try and remember all the bollocks the girl had spouted. Anya sprung to her boyfriend’s defense, the irritated vampire telling her to ‘shut the fuck up,’ and soon there was a huge shouting match, Buffy joining in, surprisingly in Spike’s corner, until Giles told them all to ‘shut the fuck up,’ which shocked everyone into silence. He instructed Xander and Anya to go upstairs and write down as much of what they believed they had heard as possible and then to tidy up and make coffee, the ex. vengeance demon complaining that William the Bloody had got away with it again. Not letting Spike off the hook, Giles took the irascible vampire aside and attempted to calm him down; giving him pen and paper and ordering him firmly to also write what he had heard. Spike reluctantly did as he was told, but that didn’t stop him muttering that he wasn’t a bloody stenographer and asking why Buffy had escaped having to scribble, if indeed she could even write without using her feet.
Giles sighed, setting his Slayer the task of helping Willow to get Tara home safely and then slumped into an easy chair, far from the maddening crowd; wondering why his life as a simple shopkeeper wasn’t as simple as he had imagined it would be.
***
Next: Who wants to be a millionaire? Spike finds a little treasure and does what a vampire has to do.