Darkness, Take My Hand
A monster walked through the dark, windy night. A shadow of evil followed his silent steps. As he passed people's homes, children's dreams became nightmares. Cats hissed at shadows and dogs growled threateningly as they slept. Outside, roosting birds took flight as it passed, primitive terror scattering them from the trees.
During the daytime, his existence was denied by people, but false bravado crumbles easily in the darkest parts of the night. Jokes are made about him, about the darkness to make people feel a little safer, to let them sleep a little easier that night. But, in the dead of night, people's fears wake and remind their owners that they aren't as invincible as they like to think they are.
No one can cheat Death. Some may defy it for longer than others, but in the end, Death always wins. Darkness, hand in hand with death, stalked the streets, looking for it's next victim. It's not picky, will take anyone it can find. Death has many forms. On this night, it had chosen to take the form of a demon, a monster that was to cross a slayer's path. Only one of them would win, but no-one, not even the fates knew which one.
People never read that page of life, it remains unturned, seen but unread by mortal eyes. Perhaps it's best that way. Who knows if the human race would be able to deal with that knowledge? It would terrify them beyond their senses. Entropy would rule the world overnight.
All the monsters you thought only existed in storybooks and movies? Well, think again childe, because they're real and exist in this world. The times you thought you saw a shadow moving behind you as you walked home one dark night? Chances are that it wasn't a shadow. That's why we have the slayer.
Buffy Summers, chosen one, slayer, looked down on the dust pile she'd created. Moments before, it had been a monster, a new-born vampire deranged with bloodlust. It had been an easy kill for her, just a couple of punches thrown and a stake through the heart. She wished they were all as easy. Just the week before, she'd be quite badly injured fighting a huge demon. Her injures had since healed, but she knew that the threat was always lurking, waiting to take her out.
Willow had told her the demons name, but she'd forgotten it. The name wasn't important. Knowing how to kill it was. Sometimes she thought that her head would explode from all the slaying-related info stored in her brain. She sighed as she started walking, her spider sense always alert for any danger- both human and supernatural.
Apart from the vampires, which had been introduced to her stake, the streets were quiet. She'd passed a few male students walking along in a group, but that was it. Everyone else seemed to have stayed inside for the night. The cool breeze blew her hair across her face and as she brushed it back, she wished that she had put it up into a ponytail. A quick glance at her watch showed that she'd only been out for a couple of hours.
She tucked Mr. Pointy back into the special pocket in the long leather jacket she wore and pulled a face as she looked at her boots. Her NEW knee length boots that where now scuffed. She sighed, resigned to the fate of never having an un-scuffed pair of boots. It was her own fault, really. She should have known by now not the wear new stuff on patrol, but some nights she liked to look good. Apart from the jacket, she wore dark jeans and a pale pink vest top under her jacket.
She was alone on patrol, because Willow was watching Dawn, Xander was working and Anya, well, she was counting the money she'd made that day at the Magic Box. Giles was out of town, visiting another watcher for a few days. He was due to come back to Sunnydale the next night, but until then, she was on her own. If Angel had been in town, she could have patroled with him. But he was out of town, still in LA as far as she knew.
She made an unhappy sound and started walking towards the exit of the cemetery. Dry, brown leaves danced in the breeze. It was a nice night, warm enough to go without a coat, but she'd chosen to wear the leather for a reason. It stopped her from getting scraped as badly if an evil thing decided to throw her into a wall. Plus, it looked damn good on her. She had already killed four vamps that night. As she left Restfield cemetery, a small, brightly colored sign caught her attention. It was for a battle of the bands at the Bronze tomorrow night, which was Thursday. She sighed wistfully as she passed it. She wouldn't be going. She had to look after Dawn.
The only constant in her world, in the war she was fighting, was death. The vamps she killed each night, and the bigger demons that she slaughtered less regularly. People died, too. She herself had died twice, only to be brought back both times by a close friend. The first time, after she had drowned, Xander had brought her back. The second time, after she had died to save Dawn and to close the Portal that Glory had opened to her home world, a place full of unimaginable demons, Willow had brought her back.
She'd been happy where she was, in heaven, but heaven didn't have her friends. It didn't have Dawn. Then again, there wasn't any vamps or demons there either. Thinking about it too much made her head hurt. She was glad to be back on earth, to be alive again, but at the same time, she wished she could have stayed there. She'd liked it, had been glad to give up the endless struggle of her life to someone else. That thought had made her fell guilty and ashamed, but she'd been through so much in such a short time. Her life had been stripped down to the bones, and she was slowly, painstakingly having to build it back up again.
A loud scream sounded to her right and she instinctively turned towards it. She was across the road before she even realized that she was running. As she skidded around the corner, not really knowing what to expect a strange thought crossed her mind. Darkness, Take My Hand. She didn't know where the thought had come from, but it was faintly disturbing.
She shook it off as she turned to see what was going on. The first thing her mind registered was the huge blue/black demon standing next to a Dumpster. It must have been 8 or 9 feet tall, with two pairs of scaled arms and a head like nothing she'd seen before. She paled slightly at the thought of fighting it. But she would fight it, even if she died trying. That was what she did. She wouldn't let someone die because she'd been too afraid to do her job properly.
A terrified woman of about her own age was crouched next to the Dumpster, watching as the demon played with the dead man in it's powerful grasp. Tears streamed down her face as she sat there, streaking her make up. Buffy couldn't tell if they were from fear or grief. The demon's razor sharp ebony nails glinted in the weak light thrown over the alley mouth by a streetlight.
Can't fight that with a stake, she thought. Her priority was to get the woman to safety and to kill the demon any way she could. What she really needed was both weapons and help, but it looked like she was going to have to do this solo. She wondered briefly where Spike was. She didn't like to admit it, but she could do with his help on this one. He was a good fighter, as good as herself. He'd proved his loyalty to her time and time again.
She wondered if a crossbow bolt would be sharp enough to penetrate the demon's thick hide as she ran towards it, pulling a small, ornate dagger from her boot. It was razor sharp and perfectly balanced for throwing, with a long, thin blade. She had no intention of throwing it at the demon because she had no idea if it would do any real damage. The oily black skin looked thick enough to repel anything short of an atomic blast.
She threw her self into a forward roll as she reached the demon and stabbed at it's muscular leg with the knife. The blade bent in half, without as much as scratching the thick, scaly skin. She muttered the first thing that came to mind "Oh, crap." as she rolled sideways to avoid being crushed beneath the huge foot as the demon realized that someone else was in the alley. The dead body of the man fell bonelessly from the demon's hands.
"Get the hell outta here!" Buffy shouted to the demons would be victim, who needed no more telling. She scrambled to her feet and threw a strange half smile in Buffy's direction.
The woman ran like hell from the alley without looking back once. As soon as Buffy knew that the woman was safe, she turned her full attention back to the demon. It was similar to the one she fought a few weeks ago, except she'd been able to take the other one down with a few, deep axe cuts and some heated curses. The one she was fighting now looked as if it would take a missile to kill. And she didn't have a missile. She flipped to her feet, spotting a thick length of pipe further down the alley. Sometimes, it was amazing what she found in the dark alleys. Once, she'd found a sword that she'd given to Giles. Before she could get there, the demon turned towards her and raised one heavy arm. Black goo shot out of it's wrist, aimed for her. She ducked and rolled under the goo. It hit the brick wall behind her and burnt a hole in it.
She rolled again and sprang to her feet, taking two short steps before launching herself feet first at the demon. It was like kicking a stone wall. The impact jarred her body, leaving her feeling dizzy and faintly sick. She landed on an old green glass bottle, which shattered under her back.
Sharp shards of glass penetrated her jacket and cut her back in many places. She gasped aloud at the pain of the many small wounds. She'd been extremely lucky not to get a more serious wound. As the demon came closed to her, she tried to get up and fight, but she was still winded from the fall. She could only watch as it took another step towards her. She grimaced, knowing she'd look and feel like hell the next day, if she survived the night. But, considering the circumstances, that is not a given, she thought, then rolled to avoid another kick.
Something tackled the demon from behind. It barely seemed to notice until a pale hand reached round it's head and fingers poked into it's overlarge eye. It roared, from pain or anger she couldn't tell. She scrambled to her feet, heading for a piece of thick pipe she'd seen lying on the alley floor. She picked it from the run and swung it with all of her strength at the demon's head.
Th e pipe rebounded with a heavy clang, bending slightly in the middle. She let her momentum carry her round in a full circle. The pipe connected with the other side of the demon's head. She felt the impact all the way up to her shoulders, but she didn't let go of the pipe. As she hit it again, it's huge, gaping mouth opened and she got to view it's teeth, which where jet black and shark like. She rammed to pipe into it's mouth as hard as she could and was rewarded to see it break through the back of the demon's throat.
"Hey! Watch what you're doing love," she heard a familiar voice shout in alarm. The pipe wouldn't have killed him- only wood would have killed him, but he still didn't want the pipe sticking through his chest.
"Spike?" she asked, shocked.
"Yeah, that's my name, don't wear it out." He retorted. She shot him a warning glance and he shut up.
"How do we kill this thing?" she asked, hoping that he knew.
"Only one way I know." He said, keeping a wary eye on the demon. As it raised it's arm again, he threw himself at Buffy, knocking them both below the acidic goo. She smiled at him in thanks and accepted the hand he held out to help her to her feet.
"What's that?" She asked impatiently. They were both circling the demon again, keeping a watchful eye on it.
"Vampire blood. I need something sharp." He said without flinching.
"Okay," she said and picked up a long shard of glass from the bottle she'd fallen on. It cut her fingers as she threw it to him, but she didn't notice. "Catch!"
He snatched it out of the air easily and brought it down across his wrist. Dark red blood spurted from the cut. Buffy ran at the demon, snap kicking it under the jaw. She stood in front of it, shouting abuse. It focused it's limited attention span on her, which allowed Spike to creep up on it. He smeared his blood onto it's exposed back. Without a sound, the demon dropped to the floor, dead. The body started to decompose until all that was left was a small pile of black glop. Buffy wrinkled her nose at it in disgust.
"You okay?" they both asked at the same time and smiled a little.
"You first." Buffy said to Spike.
"No, ladies first." He insisted
"Thanks for the help. I couldn't have done it without you." She admitted.
He tilted his head. She swore that he was blushing, though in the faint light she couldn't really tell.
"It's okay." He said, then changed the subject as quickly as he could. "You're hurt."
"I'm.. it's nothing. Your arm is bleeding more than I am." She said "You can bandage it at my house." She offered.
"Come on then." He said gruffly, to hide his worry at seeing Buffy hurt- again. Without waiting for her, he started walking. It wasn't a long walk to her house, and she found that she quite enjoyed it. They entered the house through the back door, quietly so not the wake Dawn or Willow. Spike opened the cupboard where the first aid kit was kept, knowing his way around her house well by now. He opened it and took out a pile of clean white gauze and a roll of tape.
Rust colored water swirled lazily down the drain as he emptied the sinkfull of water he'd been using to clean the white cloth in his hands. He replaced the plug and ran another sinkfull of cold water, in which he dampened the cloth. He then crossed the room and used to wipe the last traces of blood from Buffy's back. She shivered as the water touched her back, but said nothing. When he was done covering the larger cuts with gauze and tape, she pulled her top back down and turned to face him. He could see the curve of her spine under the thin top she wore.
"There. All done." He said as he stepped away from her. She smiled at him, thanking him without using words. He pulled out a stool from under the breakfast bar and sat down, watching her as she threw the used gauze and empty wrappers into the kitchen bin.
"How's you arm?" she asked. They'd already cleaned and dressed it, but she wondered how fast it would heal. She knew that on Angel, such a wound would have been healed overnight. She didn't know Spike well enough to be able to say how long his wounds took to heal.
He looked at it like he'd never seen it before and was pissed off that someone had attached it without him noticing. He tilted his head as if he was thinking for the answer. "It's fine." He said. "All ready healing." He assured her.
"Good. That's good." She said and hesitated before adding, "So, how did you know how to kill it?" she finally asked. "The demon, I mean." She added
"Fought one in Rome about fifty years back. I was with some friends and it attacked us. They don't like vampires, do Kelger demons. I saw how it was killed. Course, that one was an adult. Took two vamp's blood to kill it. The one in little ole Sunnydale was only a baby." He finished his story with a strange look on his face.
"Oh." She said, then released what he'd said. "That was a baby?"
"Yeah, just fifty or sixty years old, I'd bet." He said.
"Wow. I'd hate to see an adult." She commented.
They stood in silence for a minute, both felling uncomfortable. Finally, Spike broke the silence.
"I should go. It'll be getting light soon." He said.
"Yeah." She said with a small, sad smile. She walked to the door with him and watched as he put on his black leather duster. He lent down and kissed her gently on the cheek before he as he walked past her and into the still dark night. She stared after him for a long time before she closed the door and made her way silently up to bed.
Center*Fins*/Center
A monster walked through the dark, windy night. A shadow of evil followed his silent steps. As he passed people's homes, children's dreams became nightmares. Cats hissed at shadows and dogs growled threateningly as they slept. Outside, roosting birds took flight as it passed, primitive terror scattering them from the trees.
During the daytime, his existence was denied by people, but false bravado crumbles easily in the darkest parts of the night. Jokes are made about him, about the darkness to make people feel a little safer, to let them sleep a little easier that night. But, in the dead of night, people's fears wake and remind their owners that they aren't as invincible as they like to think they are.
No one can cheat Death. Some may defy it for longer than others, but in the end, Death always wins. Darkness, hand in hand with death, stalked the streets, looking for it's next victim. It's not picky, will take anyone it can find. Death has many forms. On this night, it had chosen to take the form of a demon, a monster that was to cross a slayer's path. Only one of them would win, but no-one, not even the fates knew which one.
People never read that page of life, it remains unturned, seen but unread by mortal eyes. Perhaps it's best that way. Who knows if the human race would be able to deal with that knowledge? It would terrify them beyond their senses. Entropy would rule the world overnight.
All the monsters you thought only existed in storybooks and movies? Well, think again childe, because they're real and exist in this world. The times you thought you saw a shadow moving behind you as you walked home one dark night? Chances are that it wasn't a shadow. That's why we have the slayer.
Buffy Summers, chosen one, slayer, looked down on the dust pile she'd created. Moments before, it had been a monster, a new-born vampire deranged with bloodlust. It had been an easy kill for her, just a couple of punches thrown and a stake through the heart. She wished they were all as easy. Just the week before, she'd be quite badly injured fighting a huge demon. Her injures had since healed, but she knew that the threat was always lurking, waiting to take her out.
Willow had told her the demons name, but she'd forgotten it. The name wasn't important. Knowing how to kill it was. Sometimes she thought that her head would explode from all the slaying-related info stored in her brain. She sighed as she started walking, her spider sense always alert for any danger- both human and supernatural.
Apart from the vampires, which had been introduced to her stake, the streets were quiet. She'd passed a few male students walking along in a group, but that was it. Everyone else seemed to have stayed inside for the night. The cool breeze blew her hair across her face and as she brushed it back, she wished that she had put it up into a ponytail. A quick glance at her watch showed that she'd only been out for a couple of hours.
She tucked Mr. Pointy back into the special pocket in the long leather jacket she wore and pulled a face as she looked at her boots. Her NEW knee length boots that where now scuffed. She sighed, resigned to the fate of never having an un-scuffed pair of boots. It was her own fault, really. She should have known by now not the wear new stuff on patrol, but some nights she liked to look good. Apart from the jacket, she wore dark jeans and a pale pink vest top under her jacket.
She was alone on patrol, because Willow was watching Dawn, Xander was working and Anya, well, she was counting the money she'd made that day at the Magic Box. Giles was out of town, visiting another watcher for a few days. He was due to come back to Sunnydale the next night, but until then, she was on her own. If Angel had been in town, she could have patroled with him. But he was out of town, still in LA as far as she knew.
She made an unhappy sound and started walking towards the exit of the cemetery. Dry, brown leaves danced in the breeze. It was a nice night, warm enough to go without a coat, but she'd chosen to wear the leather for a reason. It stopped her from getting scraped as badly if an evil thing decided to throw her into a wall. Plus, it looked damn good on her. She had already killed four vamps that night. As she left Restfield cemetery, a small, brightly colored sign caught her attention. It was for a battle of the bands at the Bronze tomorrow night, which was Thursday. She sighed wistfully as she passed it. She wouldn't be going. She had to look after Dawn.
The only constant in her world, in the war she was fighting, was death. The vamps she killed each night, and the bigger demons that she slaughtered less regularly. People died, too. She herself had died twice, only to be brought back both times by a close friend. The first time, after she had drowned, Xander had brought her back. The second time, after she had died to save Dawn and to close the Portal that Glory had opened to her home world, a place full of unimaginable demons, Willow had brought her back.
She'd been happy where she was, in heaven, but heaven didn't have her friends. It didn't have Dawn. Then again, there wasn't any vamps or demons there either. Thinking about it too much made her head hurt. She was glad to be back on earth, to be alive again, but at the same time, she wished she could have stayed there. She'd liked it, had been glad to give up the endless struggle of her life to someone else. That thought had made her fell guilty and ashamed, but she'd been through so much in such a short time. Her life had been stripped down to the bones, and she was slowly, painstakingly having to build it back up again.
A loud scream sounded to her right and she instinctively turned towards it. She was across the road before she even realized that she was running. As she skidded around the corner, not really knowing what to expect a strange thought crossed her mind. Darkness, Take My Hand. She didn't know where the thought had come from, but it was faintly disturbing.
She shook it off as she turned to see what was going on. The first thing her mind registered was the huge blue/black demon standing next to a Dumpster. It must have been 8 or 9 feet tall, with two pairs of scaled arms and a head like nothing she'd seen before. She paled slightly at the thought of fighting it. But she would fight it, even if she died trying. That was what she did. She wouldn't let someone die because she'd been too afraid to do her job properly.
A terrified woman of about her own age was crouched next to the Dumpster, watching as the demon played with the dead man in it's powerful grasp. Tears streamed down her face as she sat there, streaking her make up. Buffy couldn't tell if they were from fear or grief. The demon's razor sharp ebony nails glinted in the weak light thrown over the alley mouth by a streetlight.
Can't fight that with a stake, she thought. Her priority was to get the woman to safety and to kill the demon any way she could. What she really needed was both weapons and help, but it looked like she was going to have to do this solo. She wondered briefly where Spike was. She didn't like to admit it, but she could do with his help on this one. He was a good fighter, as good as herself. He'd proved his loyalty to her time and time again.
She wondered if a crossbow bolt would be sharp enough to penetrate the demon's thick hide as she ran towards it, pulling a small, ornate dagger from her boot. It was razor sharp and perfectly balanced for throwing, with a long, thin blade. She had no intention of throwing it at the demon because she had no idea if it would do any real damage. The oily black skin looked thick enough to repel anything short of an atomic blast.
She threw her self into a forward roll as she reached the demon and stabbed at it's muscular leg with the knife. The blade bent in half, without as much as scratching the thick, scaly skin. She muttered the first thing that came to mind "Oh, crap." as she rolled sideways to avoid being crushed beneath the huge foot as the demon realized that someone else was in the alley. The dead body of the man fell bonelessly from the demon's hands.
"Get the hell outta here!" Buffy shouted to the demons would be victim, who needed no more telling. She scrambled to her feet and threw a strange half smile in Buffy's direction.
The woman ran like hell from the alley without looking back once. As soon as Buffy knew that the woman was safe, she turned her full attention back to the demon. It was similar to the one she fought a few weeks ago, except she'd been able to take the other one down with a few, deep axe cuts and some heated curses. The one she was fighting now looked as if it would take a missile to kill. And she didn't have a missile. She flipped to her feet, spotting a thick length of pipe further down the alley. Sometimes, it was amazing what she found in the dark alleys. Once, she'd found a sword that she'd given to Giles. Before she could get there, the demon turned towards her and raised one heavy arm. Black goo shot out of it's wrist, aimed for her. She ducked and rolled under the goo. It hit the brick wall behind her and burnt a hole in it.
She rolled again and sprang to her feet, taking two short steps before launching herself feet first at the demon. It was like kicking a stone wall. The impact jarred her body, leaving her feeling dizzy and faintly sick. She landed on an old green glass bottle, which shattered under her back.
Sharp shards of glass penetrated her jacket and cut her back in many places. She gasped aloud at the pain of the many small wounds. She'd been extremely lucky not to get a more serious wound. As the demon came closed to her, she tried to get up and fight, but she was still winded from the fall. She could only watch as it took another step towards her. She grimaced, knowing she'd look and feel like hell the next day, if she survived the night. But, considering the circumstances, that is not a given, she thought, then rolled to avoid another kick.
Something tackled the demon from behind. It barely seemed to notice until a pale hand reached round it's head and fingers poked into it's overlarge eye. It roared, from pain or anger she couldn't tell. She scrambled to her feet, heading for a piece of thick pipe she'd seen lying on the alley floor. She picked it from the run and swung it with all of her strength at the demon's head.
Th e pipe rebounded with a heavy clang, bending slightly in the middle. She let her momentum carry her round in a full circle. The pipe connected with the other side of the demon's head. She felt the impact all the way up to her shoulders, but she didn't let go of the pipe. As she hit it again, it's huge, gaping mouth opened and she got to view it's teeth, which where jet black and shark like. She rammed to pipe into it's mouth as hard as she could and was rewarded to see it break through the back of the demon's throat.
"Hey! Watch what you're doing love," she heard a familiar voice shout in alarm. The pipe wouldn't have killed him- only wood would have killed him, but he still didn't want the pipe sticking through his chest.
"Spike?" she asked, shocked.
"Yeah, that's my name, don't wear it out." He retorted. She shot him a warning glance and he shut up.
"How do we kill this thing?" she asked, hoping that he knew.
"Only one way I know." He said, keeping a wary eye on the demon. As it raised it's arm again, he threw himself at Buffy, knocking them both below the acidic goo. She smiled at him in thanks and accepted the hand he held out to help her to her feet.
"What's that?" She asked impatiently. They were both circling the demon again, keeping a watchful eye on it.
"Vampire blood. I need something sharp." He said without flinching.
"Okay," she said and picked up a long shard of glass from the bottle she'd fallen on. It cut her fingers as she threw it to him, but she didn't notice. "Catch!"
He snatched it out of the air easily and brought it down across his wrist. Dark red blood spurted from the cut. Buffy ran at the demon, snap kicking it under the jaw. She stood in front of it, shouting abuse. It focused it's limited attention span on her, which allowed Spike to creep up on it. He smeared his blood onto it's exposed back. Without a sound, the demon dropped to the floor, dead. The body started to decompose until all that was left was a small pile of black glop. Buffy wrinkled her nose at it in disgust.
"You okay?" they both asked at the same time and smiled a little.
"You first." Buffy said to Spike.
"No, ladies first." He insisted
"Thanks for the help. I couldn't have done it without you." She admitted.
He tilted his head. She swore that he was blushing, though in the faint light she couldn't really tell.
"It's okay." He said, then changed the subject as quickly as he could. "You're hurt."
"I'm.. it's nothing. Your arm is bleeding more than I am." She said "You can bandage it at my house." She offered.
"Come on then." He said gruffly, to hide his worry at seeing Buffy hurt- again. Without waiting for her, he started walking. It wasn't a long walk to her house, and she found that she quite enjoyed it. They entered the house through the back door, quietly so not the wake Dawn or Willow. Spike opened the cupboard where the first aid kit was kept, knowing his way around her house well by now. He opened it and took out a pile of clean white gauze and a roll of tape.
Rust colored water swirled lazily down the drain as he emptied the sinkfull of water he'd been using to clean the white cloth in his hands. He replaced the plug and ran another sinkfull of cold water, in which he dampened the cloth. He then crossed the room and used to wipe the last traces of blood from Buffy's back. She shivered as the water touched her back, but said nothing. When he was done covering the larger cuts with gauze and tape, she pulled her top back down and turned to face him. He could see the curve of her spine under the thin top she wore.
"There. All done." He said as he stepped away from her. She smiled at him, thanking him without using words. He pulled out a stool from under the breakfast bar and sat down, watching her as she threw the used gauze and empty wrappers into the kitchen bin.
"How's you arm?" she asked. They'd already cleaned and dressed it, but she wondered how fast it would heal. She knew that on Angel, such a wound would have been healed overnight. She didn't know Spike well enough to be able to say how long his wounds took to heal.
He looked at it like he'd never seen it before and was pissed off that someone had attached it without him noticing. He tilted his head as if he was thinking for the answer. "It's fine." He said. "All ready healing." He assured her.
"Good. That's good." She said and hesitated before adding, "So, how did you know how to kill it?" she finally asked. "The demon, I mean." She added
"Fought one in Rome about fifty years back. I was with some friends and it attacked us. They don't like vampires, do Kelger demons. I saw how it was killed. Course, that one was an adult. Took two vamp's blood to kill it. The one in little ole Sunnydale was only a baby." He finished his story with a strange look on his face.
"Oh." She said, then released what he'd said. "That was a baby?"
"Yeah, just fifty or sixty years old, I'd bet." He said.
"Wow. I'd hate to see an adult." She commented.
They stood in silence for a minute, both felling uncomfortable. Finally, Spike broke the silence.
"I should go. It'll be getting light soon." He said.
"Yeah." She said with a small, sad smile. She walked to the door with him and watched as he put on his black leather duster. He lent down and kissed her gently on the cheek before he as he walked past her and into the still dark night. She stared after him for a long time before she closed the door and made her way silently up to bed.
Center*Fins*/Center