Not So Welcome Guests
Three nights had passed since Min’s death when Buffy opened her door,
one particularly gloomy afternoon, to find Giles, Andrea, and four teenage
girls on the threshold. She was glad to see her Watcher – because he would
always be her Watcher, whatever either of them now was. But there was something
on his face, as she ushered them all in, that she hadn’t seen in a long time,
and that she could very well have done without seeing ever again. Disappointment,
on the edge of reprobation. She repressed a sigh as she led everyone to the
kitchen, all too aware of the wide-eyed looks three of the girls were giving
her. The fourth Potential – Michelle, she thought her name was – already
knew her, having come to train with a couple of other girls a few months
back. They made small talk for a few instants, questions about flights, airplane
food, jetlag and rental cars. Then they left the girls in the kitchen, with
the permission to help themselves to whatever snacks they could find, and
walked to the dining room for some more serious talk.
Spike was in there, his chair leaning at a precarious angle against a
wall, his bare feet on the table as he flicked through the pages of a moldy
old book. A dozen or so more where spread on the table, remnants of an all-nighter
Scoobies research party that had not yielded any useful information. There
just didn’t seem to be any logical reason why a Slayer would be drained through
slashed wrists, and there wasn’t anything they could find that would explain
how anyone could kill hundreds of Potential Slayers at once, as Cordy’s
vision suggested.
“Anything new?” Giles asked once the required greetings had been given.
“Nothing big,” Buffy replied. “The only new thing is that the word is
out that I’m a vamp, but that has nothing to do with Min and the Potentials.”
“No one is bragging,” Spike said gruffly as he noisily put the book back
on the table. “So my bet is, we’re not up against vamps, because a vamp would
have made sure everyone knew he had killed a Slayer. No clue who we’re up
against other than that.”
There was strain in his voice as he said this, and Buffy was sure that
the two Watchers could hear the implied words as well as she did. He knew
a vamp would have bragged about killing a Slayer, because that was what he
had done. Twice. Long ago.
“We’re still searching as well,” Giles said as he pulled a chair and sat
down, his glasses in his hand, ready for some mandatory polishing. “There
are more than a few uses known to Slayer’s blood, but they’re in heavily
restricted books, which means older than the majority of the Council’s collection,
rarely ever studied by anyone, therefore badly, if at all, translated, and
mostly ready to crumble to dust. It seems that some people thought it would
be safer if this knowledge was lost.”
The tone of his voice made all too clear what he thought about that.
“We’ll get to it, though,” Andrea said with determination. “Given a few
days, we’ll have a list of reasons why anyone would want a Slayer’s blood,
other than to feed.”
As she listened almost absently, Buffy couldn’t help noticing the soothing
gesture of Andrea’s hand squeezing Giles’ shoulder. Her eyes flickered to
Spike, and she regretted once more that things had gotten so tense between
them. He was still pestering her to feed more, although he hadn’t forced
her again to anything by using a Sire’s command or by threatening to do so.
If anything, his constant surveillance was encouraging her to follow the path
she had decided to try to control the demon, just to prove him wrong. She
was fine, would continue to be fine, and would only be better if he stopped
treating her like a child. The only thing she was clinging to was that, by
an unspoken agreement, they left whatever they disagreed on at the doorstep
of their bedroom, and didn’t speak of it while under their very own blue
skies.
She was brought back to the discussion by something Giles was asking:
“Do you mind if we stay here for a few days? We’re going to rent something
large enough to host all the girls and Watchers that are coming, but we need
to find the place first.”
“Sure,” Spike answered with a shrug. “Two empty bedrooms, have fun figuring
out who gets the beds.”
She frowned at him from the other side of the table, and he seemed to
notice her disapproval. He arched an eyebrow, asking wordlessly what was
wrong, and she only shook her head. She wasn’t going to make a scene in front
of Giles, but she didn’t like much her husband agreeing to host all these
people without checking first with her. She had that definite feeling that
it was just a plan to make her get to know the girls and help train them.
She wouldn’t fall in that trap. She didn’t want to know them, didn’t want
to care for them any more than she already did, and if she had to, she would
move out of her own house.
At the instant he offered their spare rooms to the Watchers and their
charges, Spike saw Buffy frown. What was it, now? He was just being nice
to her Watcher, having assumed she would be happy to have Giles around,
but apparently she didn’t like the idea, if he was to judge by her expression.
He wanted to ask her what the problem was, but she seemed reluctant to
talk around the others, so he didn’t mention it, deciding to wait until they
would be alone, which only happened once they left the house to go patrol.
Two of the Potentials asked to come along, but Buffy refused, with the excuse
that things were too dangerous with an unknown foe out there. Spike said
nothing, but had this quiet certitude that she just didn’t want the kids
with them. Not that he minded being alone with her, far from it, even if
things weren’t exactly perfect.
Things had only gotten more strained in the last couple of days, as he
could do nothing to convince her to drink more. Not drinking anything human
was bad enough, not sharing with him was absurd, but not drinking her fill
of animal blood – as he was sure was the case, even if she denied it – that
was more than he could endure to watch her do. It was as though she was trying
to provoke him into controlling her again, and that was the only reason he
wasn’t doing it. Despite the tension, they kept to a mostly habitual schedule.
Patrols until early morning, rest until noon, research in the afternoon,
and all over again come night.
“I’m going to move out of the house for a few days.”
Had his heart been beating, Spike was sure it would have stopped at her
words. He caught her arm, forcing her to stop walking and to look at him.
“Care to repeat that?” he said throatily.
“Just until Giles gets a place for them,” she explained as if it made
perfect sense. “I just don’t feel like being around them all. It’s no biggie.”
“No biggie?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’re leaving our home and…”
“I’m not leaving you,” she cut in. “It has nothing to do with you.”
He snorted. “Allow me to think otherwise when I’m alone in our bed. And
where exactly are you going?”
Her teeth caught her bottom lip, and he watched as she thought, wondering
what was troubling her.
“I was thinking of using the mansion,” she said at last. “It will just
be for a few days.”
So, he thought glumly, she’d rather be in a place where she had been tortured,
a place where she had sent Angel to Hell, rather than being in their home
with just a few guests. Oh yeah, no biggie.
“Why?” he asked softly as he tilted her head up with a finger and tried
to find the answer in her eyes.
She shook her head, but didn’t reply. Before he could insist, they both
turned to face the approaching group of vamps. Five of them, walking straight
toward the blonde couple through the deserted graveyard. That wasn’t exactly
new, they had been attacked before by groups that thought they could take
down the Slayer and her traitor of a sidekick. What was new, however, was
that they all had stakes.
“You’re ready for this?” he asked, sotto voce, “Or do you want
to retreat?”
A simple look at her, eyes flashing gold and indignant expression plain
on her face, told her what the answer was.
“Right. Back to back, then. And no playing this time, stake as soon as
you have an opening.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Remind me which of us is the Slayer, Spike?
I still know how to stake a vamp, even if he wants to stake me back.”
With that, she was off to battle, and after two strides he was right along
her. Oh, he knew she could stake a vamp, no problem there. But she had developed
the habit of playing with her prey, which was probably a manifestation of
her demon, and while Spike usually had nothing against it - he did
the same thing more often than not - it wasn’t exactly the time to play that
game.
Spike didn’t have much more trouble with these, which were obviously barely
more than fledglings, than he had with any vamp, simply because he was used
to fighting someone who had a stake in hand, and it was just instinct to
constantly keep an eye on the simple but so dangerous piece of wood. He noticed,
however, that his Slayer was fumbling a little, as if more wary of her adversaries'
weapons than she had ever been about a sword or the like. He didn’t step
in to help, however, he knew her better than that. Any intervention would
have brought him nothing but recriminations and protests that she could still
do her job. Instead, he managed to disarm his last opponent, and pressed him
to the ground, arms pulled tight in his back, a knee held hard enough against
his spine to discourage any movement. Just then, Buffy dusted her vamp, and
she turned an inquisitive eyebrow to him.
“I thought you said not to play with them.”
“Not playing, luv,” he said as he considered the vamp under him. “I just
have a couple of questions for out new friend. And if he doesn’t want to
talk, a bit of torture might be nice. You want to help?”
He raised a pleading look to her at that, silently asking her to play
along, and she seemed to understand what he was doing.
“It might be fun,” she agreed. “Just ask him so he can refuse to answer
and we can play. There’s that church just a block away. Holy water and crosses.
We could…”
The vamp had started shivering at the simple word of church, and he didn’t
seem too inclined to hear what Buffy thought they could do there because
he cried out:
“No! I’ll answer, I’ll tell you whatever you want to hear, I’ll…”
“How did you know she’s a vamp?” Spike interrupted him harshly. “Who told
you?”
“I don’t know who…”
A hard shove against the still bent arms had the vamp groaning in pain.
“I swear I don’t! That girl from my clan, she said there were new vamps
in town, and that they were saying the Slayer’s a vampire. I swear that’s
all I know!”
“Do you know where their lair is?” Spike asked, straining not to growl.
“No, I don’t, they’re kinda secretive and…”
“Ask him about Min,” Buffy suggested blankly.
Spike pondered about that. It wasn’t like they could even be sure their
hostage was telling the truth, so why bother? It had first seemed like a
good idea to interrogate him, but now he realized that he shouldn’t have
expected much from the fledgling. He asked nonetheless, if only to satisfy
Buffy.
“Have you heard anything about the death of the other Slayer?”
There was a flash of surprise in the side of the vamp’s face that wasn’t
pressed to the ground, and Spike knew his answer before he even spoke.
“She’s dead? The little Asiatic…”
Releasing his prey’s arms, Spike thrust a stake through his back before
he could finish and got back to his feet.
“We’ll need a bigger fish if we want any real information,” he commented.
Buffy only nodded, and they started walking again.
“So, when are we moving out?” he asked after a moment, continuing their
previous conversation.
“We?” she repeated, puzzled.
“Of course, we. You think I’m going to let you go to that damned place
alone and get stuck with these hormone bombs? I’d rather take a bath in holy
water.”
She laughed softly at that, and snaked her arm around his waist, leaning
against his shoulder.
“Tomorrow,” she said. “And I’m glad you’re coming along.”
He only replied with a kiss to her temple. He didn’t particularly like
the mansion, because it held a couple of bad memories for him too, but he
had stayed there before, and he would again, if that was the way to be with
his Slayer.
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The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.