"So, what do you think?" Buffy asked, as she staked the vampire in front of her.
"About what, pet?" Spike frowned, grabbing one of his attackers in a head-lock and kicking the second away.
"The bar brawl from last night that Giles was telling us about." Buffy clarified, tripping the next vampire that came charging at her. "Sounded like a vampire..."
"No one died, correct?" Spike grunted, taking a blow from behind, as he snapped the neck of the vampire in his arms. He whirled around and back handed the attacking vampire with the hand holding his stake, then thrust it home as the other vampire staggered backwards, off balance from the blow.
Buffy threw her latest attacker over her shoulder to the ground, managing to stake him before another grabbed her by the hair and flung her back. "I guess you're right." she agreed, ducking from an impending blow and rolling to her feet, "Musta just been some gang of drunk trouble-makers." She drove the stake home and looked around for any other attackers. "Doesn't explain the neck wound one of them had though."
She looked back at her partner in time to see him ram his stake into the last of the vampires. "Could've just been broken glass." Spike suggested, "I doubt most vampires would leave their dinner alive to tell the tale." he pointed out, also casting a glance around them.
Shrugging, she plopped herself down on the ground and leaned back against the nearest tombstone. "Well whatever," she sighed, "No one got hurt too badly, Giles didn't seem overly worried about it either."
Spike moved towards her and sat down on the headstone beside her, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket and lighting up while the two wound down from their recent fight. She snuck a glance up at him as he exhaled, his eyes searching the far off darkness. There was something heavy on his mind... she could tell from his posture and his features. Something he seemed on the verge of sharing with her... but something he seemed equally reluctant about sharing. It was almost funny how well she had come to learn to read him over the years.
Maybe it had something to do with last night. He'd been different when he'd entered her room then... darker somehow, more dangerous. She'd felt him lean over her too, and for a brief instant she wondered if he was planning on kissing her - or biting her, but since he couldn't do the latter any more, that was out of the question. He'd done nothing though, eventually backing away and taking his usual seat at her desk.
The silence that fell over them as they sat there regaining their strength seemed to be closing in around her. She couldn't stand not knowing what was going through that vampire's mind, couldn't stand her own conflicting emotions regarding him.
Her eyes now seemed glued to him as what began as an attempt at determining what was on his mind turned into a visual meal of his features. He was handsome - she'd always known that - sexy, dark, dangerous - but since he'd also been the enemy for so long, she'd refused to let herself feel anything other than contempt for him. That wall of detest was slowly beginning to crumble though, and over the years, working beside him, seeing so many other sides to him... closing her eyes she shook her head in denial. No. She'd sworn off vampires when she'd realized that there'd never be a her and Angel.
"Shall we move on, Slayer?" Spike's voice broke through to her. She opened her eyes and looked up to see him standing in front of her, arm outstretched to help her to her feet again. Grabbing his cool wrist she accepted his offer and dusted herself off.
"I'm too pooped. Let's just call it a night and head back." she refused. They had just dusted a fair number of vamps, the rest could wait. "Besides, I've got finals coming up," she groaned as she remembered what time of year it was, "I'm gonna need to put in a few hours of studying before I can crash."
On the bright side, this was it - her final finals, so to speak. She'd actually done the impossible: survived university - on the Hellmouth no less. In a couple months time she'd be off in the working world... her momentary good mood flattened out with a depressing swiftness; in a couple months time, she'd be off in the working world. Working. Forever. Idly she began trying to figure out her odds of dying before graduation...
Spike remained silent and still while she started off. "There is the possibility that you might die before your finals." he spoke up, as if reading her mind. His voice however had taken a decidedly soft and deadly tone though, removing any humour the statement might otherwise have had.
Frowning, she turned back to face him. "And just what do you mean by that?" she demanded, still trying to figure out how he'd just managed to voice her thoughts, while simultaneously wondering why he sounded so certain about it. The gaze that met hers, held nothing of the Spike she'd come to know over the past few years, and her heart fell as her mind rebelliously denied what her eyes were seeing.
It was like Angelus all over again. "I mean..." he started, before suddenly his eyes widened in surprise, focussing on something just over her shoulder, "...duck!" he ordered sharply, letting the stake still in his hand fly towards her. She reacted instantly, rolling to her left and spinning around as she did so.
A towering grey beast roared in pain and anger as it removed the stake that had become imbedded in its chest and hurled it right back at the vampire. Buffy turned and watched Spike jump out of the way and meet her gaze again. The message was unspoken, but well understood given the amount of time they'd spent fighting together: run, regroup, then attack.
Sprinting towards him unhesitatingly, Buffy followed as Spike led them through the cemetery and away from the demon. They stopped by the side of one of the mausoleums and she leaned against the wall, casting a glance at the vampire at her side.
"What was it?" she asked, referring to the demon even as she studied his features for any sign of that foreboding aura he'd been all but radiating a moment ago. All she saw now however was her partner of four years, looking her over with concern.
"I don't know." he shrugged, "Never seen one before."
"Back there..." Buffy started, hoping to get something from him. "Later." Spike ordered firmly, before letting an amused grin cross his face. "Just making sure I could still get under your skin." He smirked suggestively at her then, "Unless you think I've got a shot at other parts of your skin."
Relief flooded over her as she made a requisite face of disgust, "I don't want you on any part of my skin unless it's as a smattering of dust." she retorted, peeking around the side of the mausoleum.
The grey beast came lumbering into view, snout in the air as it sniffed out their scents. "Well, good news, its slow; bad news, its very huge." Buffy observed quietly.
"I'll distract it then, you kill it." Spike decided. Taking a peek at the monster himself. It was indeed a whole heck of a lot larger than it had appeared earlier as it came from the bushes. With only a single, slightly curved horn on its forehead and snout, it almost looked like a strangely mutated rhinoceros. Its hands however had distinguishable fingers, each tipped with some very mean looking claws. Long, stringy fur also decorated its body, near its elbows on its arms, down its chest and midsection, and around its ankles.
"Afraid you're not strong enough to deliver the killing blow?" Buffy mocked sweetly, grinning over at her partner challengingly.
"Nope. Just know that I'm quicker on my feet than you, luv." Spike shot back with a wink, before breaking from their cover and charging the beast.
Rolling her eyes at his retreating figure, she refrained from replying, not wanting to take away from the surprise of his attack. He didn't disappoint, his tackle sending both of them down to the ground. Buffy waited until the peroxide blonde vampire had jumped back to his feet and poised himself on the other side of the monster, so that when the thing finally got back to its feet, its back was facing her.
Smiling, Buffy reached behind her and wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the knife Spike had given her just a few months ago for her birthday. The blade was significantly longer and wider than most knives, but it was not quite a sword either. She wasn't quite sure where he'd found it, or how he'd gotten it, but she'd fallen in love with it almost immediately.
Sneaking towards the scuffle quietly, she studied the beast's back silently debating her options. If she launched herself off one of the tombstones she could probably get high enough to get a solid swing at its neck, but its skin appeared rather course and tough, and midair, she wouldn't get as much strength behind such a blow as she would if her feet were planted firmly on the ground.
Again, however, if she jumped, she could stab its upper back then let gravity cleave the beast open as she continued falling to the ground. That seemed the better of the two options - despite the fact that death would not be guaranteed.
She was just about to launch herself when something moved on the beast's back and uncoiled. Blinking in surprise, she barely had time to duck, before a long, thick tail whipped around towards the front of the demon. This thing had a tail! Spike didn't know...
The thought was interrupted as the vampire in question went flying through the air, over her shoulder, the tail wrapped around his throat releasing him only to send him crashing into a tree. Buffy followed Spike's flight path with her eyes and winced in sympathy at the force of the blow before turning her attention back to the monster.
Its gaze had fallen on her now that it had turned partially around, and before it could whip its tail back at her she jabbed the knife upwards and into its throat. Grunting with effort, she sliced downwards, opening the skin and sending a shower of dark, thick bile down on top of her.
Scrunching her nose at the stench, she sidestepped out of the way and watched the beast fall to the ground, small spasms wracking its body as a moist gurgling noise emitted from the wound. Trying to fight the feeling of nausea attacking her own body, she worked instead at trying to wipe the thick slime off of her with her hands.
She wasn't succeeding in doing much more than just rubbing it into her skin though. Disgusted, she looked over at where Spike was shaking his head and getting back to his feet. "Spike, hurry up and drag your carcass over here!" she yelled out to him. "This stuff is majorly nasty, and I'd like to get back to shower before..." she paused and looked down at herself, a strange tingling spreading across her body. "Spike!" she called out frantically, as the tingling turned into a burning sensation. Panicking, she swiped at the bile with increased fervor, feeling as though her skin were dancing with flames. Falling to her knees, she pulled at her clothes, desperate to get out of them, desperate to get the stuff off before she burned to a crisp, but her fingers had stopped working for her. Convulsing uncontrollably, she felt herself sink into the soft earth, no longer able to move, the burning spreading across her whole body unrelentingly increasing in heat with every passing second.
Spike looked up the minute he heard the tone in Buffy's voice change from annoyed to panicked. Covered in some brownish sludge, she was rubbing her arms furiously, then her legs, then picking away at her clothes. He paused for just a moment as it dawned on him that the substance she was covered with was doing something to her. This could be his chance to leave her, he wouldn't even have to think up an explanation as to her death, the group would be able to see quite plainly that he'd had no hand in it.
But that would take the fun out of it; the satisfaction of doing the deed himself, with his own hands - or fangs, or what have you.
Leaping into action he sprinted across the short distance to her side, as she crumpled to the ground, convulsing uncontrollably, shedding his duster as he went. Kneeling at her side, he set his beloved jacket down on the ground at his side spreading it out fully, then shrugged out of his red button down shirt, tearing it into three strips.
Wrapping his hands in the two smallest strips, he picked the now limp Slayer up in his arms and quickly tore her out of her shirt and pants. The bile however had soaked right through to her skin, so without pause, he ripped her bra and panties off as well. Under different circumstances, he had no doubt that he'd be taking the time to give her now nude form a decent seeing to - desire to kill her or no - but instead, he grabbed the remaining strip of his torn shirt and wiped the bile off her skin as best he could, then quickly deposited her onto the duster, unwrapped his hands and scooped her up in his arms.
Covering her with his jacket, he quickly headed for Giles' home, stopping for nothing until he reached his destination, and kicking the door open when he finally did. "Giles!" he bellowed as he rushed inside, heading straight for the bathroom. He plowed straight into the man he'd just hollered for on his way, paying no heed as he nearly trampled the mortal in his rush to get to the bathtub.
Depositing the unconscious blond in the tub, he immediately turned the water on, completely disregarding the mess the water made from the open shower curtains. Blindly grabbing the hand towel from the wrack, he rinsed Buffy's body down as best as he could before grabbing the soap and running it over her as well.
"Oh my." he heard Giles breath from the doorway. "Wh-what happened?" Spike didn't bother answering as the mortal entered and knelt at the side of the tub beside him. Handing the man the towel and the soap, he instructed the former Watcher to go over every inch of skin, then got up and headed for the kitchen sink.
He was about to rinse his own hands off when he noticed a smear of bile on his forearm. He paused for a moment as he realized that he was feeling absolutely nothing from it, then sat and stared at it with a frown as several more seconds passed. Still nothing. Buffy had been rolling on the ground in under ten seconds, and she'd been unconscious in under twenty.
Bringing his arm to his nose he sniffed cautiously, cringing at the foul odour. It was definitely not mud. Shaking his head, he turned the water on and washed it all off, unsure what to make of the situation, unsure when he'd become so obsessed in being the sole reason for the Slayer's demise, unsure why half the time, he wasn't even sure if it was her demise that would make him feel more like the vampire he had been before the implant.
In retrospect, he supposed he only really wanted to kill her because that was what he'd wanted before he'd been captured by the Initiative. Somehow, he'd rationalized over the years, that completing that task would make everything right again. But would it really? It had been four years now. For four years he'd been fighting at her side, befriending her friends, worming his way into everyone's trust. While he'd been hindered by the implant, everything had been very clear to him: endure the little brats until he got fixed, then stab them in the back when they weren't looking.
Now that he actually considered his current emotional state though, he realized that his panic for the Slayer's safety hadn't stemmed entirely from his desire to kill her himself. It must have been that small amount of respect he held for her, he reasoned as he shut off the water. Wasting away from some unidentifiable substance that hadn't even been deliberately soaked onto her just didn't seem... appropriate. Searching the kitchenette, he finally came across the items he was looking for: some plastic gloves, a garbage bag and a few small zip-lock baggies.
He was just on his way out the door when Willow showed up, nearly colliding with him as she stared fearfully at the kicked-in door. "Spike!" she exclaimed in shock, trying to look past him, "Is everything ok? What happened?" Looking *past* him, he noticed with mixed feelings, not *at* him, as she asked.
Handing her the smaller zip-lock baggies he grabbed her arm and dragged her with him towards the cemetery, "I'll explain on the way, pet." he offered.
"Ouch, Spike, you're hurting me." she whimpered slightly then, causing him to quickly loosen his grip, as an afterthought, he cringed and pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Right. Sorry. Got a little carried a way." he forced out through clenched teeth. She relaxed again then, obviously believing his reaction of pain to have been genuine enough, and followed him as he retold the events of the night, leaving out the part where he had planned on killing her best friend.
He finished the tale as they approached the site where the monster still lay and scrunched up his nose as the strong scent attacked his sensitive senses. He glanced over at Willow, who was putting the gloves on, her face slightly green, and found himself grateful that he at least didn't have to breathe.
They worked in relative silence, she taking samples of the bile, and he gathering the discarded clothes. At her hiss of pain though, he turned to look at her again, frowning as she quickly peeled the gloves off and rubbed her hands against her overalls.
The gloves were sizzling faintly, though the samples in the baggies remained inactive. Looking back down at his shredded shirt and the pile of Buffy's clothes, he noticed that while the remains of his shirt were covered with the bile, they were still quite intact, whereas Buffy's clothes though not completely destroyed, were showing signs of disintegration.
"Heat." he and Willow both concluded at the same time. He looked over at her and noticed her staring at the piles of clothes as well. Meeting his gaze, she slowly nodded. "It must take heat to activate the reaction." she observed, voicing their thoughts aloud. "You must not be warm enough."
"Right then." Spike agreed, shoving the last of the clothes into the garbage bag he held. "I'll carry the samples, and we'll store them in the fridge until someone can get the bloody stuff analyzed."
Willow nodded, and stepped back, carefully checking her clothes over to make sure none of the bile would cause problems for her later.
Spike quickly finished where she had left off with the samples, then gathered everything up and took one last look around. It would be up to him to dispose of the body too obviously, if he was the only one immune - unless of course the three witches could come up with something. He turned to Willow, about to ask her, when she smiled and nodded.
"I'll go find Tara and Amy after I check in on Buffy." She offered, causing Spike to frown. She smiled at his look of disturbance, mistaking it for confusion, "Great minds think alike." she quipped lightly, hooking his arm with hers, but keeping herself clear of the bags in his arms.
He cast one last withering glare down at the slain beast unsure if he was upset that it had interrupted his plans for the evening with its unannounced appearance, or if he was upset that it had dared to hurt *his* Slayer.
Turning back to Willow, then glancing down briefly at their entwined arms, he closed his eyes and pushed the conflicting thoughts from his mind. He'd think about the ramifications of the act, and his whirlwind of emotions later, right now, he had a role to play. Matching her smile with one of his own, he led them back out of the cemetery and towards Giles home.
If he could last four years, he reminded himself sternly, he could last another few days, if that's what it was going to take.
End of Part 2/7
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