4.
There was a part of her that wanted to pretend that the night before had never happened. That she had never seen a man – a vampire – leaving Angel's apartment. That he had never begged her to stake him. And there was a part of her that knew that would be very irresponsible of her. Secrets led to all sorts of badness. Especially when those secrets had to do with vampires. Even hot, apparently suicidal ones. These two parts of her warred it out most of the night and through her morning school preparations.
In the end Responsible-Buffy won out.
Whoever that guy was he clearly knew what she was. She had to find out more about him. Which meant that she had to tell Giles about him.
Research party. Yay.
Everyone was already in the library when she got to school – which was not surprising. They looked up at her expectantly as the door bounced off the wall. Oops . . . slayer strength plus swinging doors equaled bad. She kept forgetting that.
"Sorry."
For a moment Giles had that pained look, the one that said it was far too early to be getting a migraine, but he was fairly sure one was coming. Buffy felt bad, she did, but he should try having super-strength for a while and see how easy it was not to break things built for regular-strength people. It wasn't like she was born like this. She was still getting used to it.
"Buffy," her Watcher said after he'd stopped rubbing the bridge of his nose. He sounded kinda tired. So not fair that the only stable male role-model in her life got tired after being in her presence a grand whopping total of thirty seconds. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this . . . early morning visit?"
"Huh?" Okay, so the library wasn't exactly her favorite place, but her Watcher practically lived here, so it wasn't like she'd been a stranger lately.
"What's wrong?" he asked, point-blank, indicating the dent in the wall left from her entrance.
Oh . . . Right. She'd come in a little . . . panicky maybe? Darn nerves. Now he was going to think something was wrong. Which, okay, technically something was wrong. But it was only a little something wrong and now he was going to think it was a big something wrong, and things were going to get all blown out of proportion. And – why was nothing ever simple in her life?
Slayer. Right. Stupid question.
Sometimes there was nothing to do but just jump in with both feet. Which was a dumb saying, because you couldn't exactly jump in with one foot, now could you? Aaaaaaannnnnnnnnnndddddd – so off topic.
"I ran into this weird vamp last night."
Giles rose from his seat on the table, his look vaguely alarmed.
"And this vampire is still not, err, dust?"
She shook her head.
"What happened, Buffster?" Xander asked, moving to circle her, eyes raking her form, as if looking for hidden injuries. It kinda bugged her, but she didn't say anything. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." She pushed past him as gently as possible.
"W-was, he, like, oo! I know, he was a super vamp!" Willow said eagerly.
Buffy shook her head again. "No, he was just a vamp vamp." At least, she thought he was just a vamp vamp. He hadn't looked all weird like the Master and he wasn't a kid like the Anointed One. He maybe had bad fashion sense, now that she thought about it, what with the long black coat and the clunky boots, but it was, like, 1970s bad fashion, not, like, 1770s bad fashion. Although that wasn't really saying much. Angel had updated his wardrobe sometime in the last 200 years after all. Vamps should have to wear a badge. They could say, "I'm a (insert appropriate title: i.e. Master; minion; fledge), ask me how", or something.
Her friends were staring at her.
"And I'm fine, he didn't touch me." He didn't even try.
"Did he run?" Giles asked. "Maybe he recognized you and was unprepared to deal with a slayer?"
"Not exactly," Buffy said, "but he did seem to know I was the Slayer." More like definitely knew, if that little rant about slayers killing vampires was anything to go by, but something kept her from saying that.
"Yes, well, most vampires do have a– a certain . . . sense . . . if you would, that tells them when a slayer is nearby. You do hunt their kind."
"Yeah, but he didn't seem scared or anything. He seemed kinda . . . happy." Happy wasn't the right word. He hadn't been happy that she was the Slayer, but he'd sort of . . . welcomed it, maybe? Recognized her as the instrument of his end and accepted it? She wasn't good enough with words.
"Happy?"
She'd done that all wrong; now Giles had gone from vaguely alarmed to "the apocalypse is nigh" alarmed. She started to correct him, but Giles was already on his way to his office, foraging for books.
"What did this vampire look like, Buffy?"
Maybe corrections could wait for later? It wasn't like Giles was gonna go out and dust the guy. She was the Slayer and he was the Watcher. She slayed and he . . . watched.
"Uh, medium height," she held her hand up about half a foot or a little more above her head, "small-ish build. Blonde hair, blue eyes . . ." She paused, momentarily lost in memories of knife-sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, dark brows . . . "Oh, and he had a scar. Right here." She ran a finger over the outside corner of her left eyebrow. "I didn't know vampires got scars," she muttered to herself.
Giles emerged with a small stack of books and proceeded to hand one each to Willow and Xander, who flipped through them as though they actually had some clue what they were looking for even though she'd told them nothing of importance.
"And did this vampire tell you his name?" Giles asked.
Yeah, right after they sat down to tea together. Vamps didn't generally introduce themselves to her. "We sorta skipped that part."
"Very well then. His origins, his age?" Giles peered at her as she looked more and more confused. "Did he have any minions with him?"
"Uh, no?"
Giles' mouth tightened, a sure sign he was getting frustrated. "Did you not find anything about this vampire?"
"We didn't exactly talk much. We didn't even fight."
Giles speared her with a pointed look. "Surely you noticed something."
"Um, he wore a lot of black?" she offered meekly.
Giles sighed.
She felt bad, really, but what could she say? She'd been thrown off by his tortured eyes? Oh, those eyes . . . so deep. So . . . soulful. Eyes like that did not belong on a soulless killer.
"Buffy, I do wish you would take this seriously," Giles scolded.
Buffy tried to look properly chastened, but she was never very good at that. Fortunately Giles rarely noticed and right now he was way too caught up in the beginnings of his lecture (because it was definitely going to be a lecture – Buffy could feel it coming – call it a teenager super power) to notice.
"You remember what Jenny and I told you yesterday about the Feast of St. Vigeous? It is this Saturday and it's entirely possible that this – this newcomer was recruited by the Anointed One to assassinate you."
"Can a vampire really assassinate a slayer?" Xander mused, still flipping absently through the book Giles had handed him. He looked up at Willow. "I mean, slayer, vampires. Killing each other is kinda what they do, right?"
Willow nodded eagerly while Giles rolled his eyes.
"Yes, thank you for that helpful insight, Xander. Now if we could return to the matter at hand. As I was saying, it is quite possible that the reason this vampire did not attack you was because he was attempting to otherwise engage you . . . to– to," he waved his hand helplessly as he searched for the correct word and Buffy had to stifle a giggle – it looked like he was stirring an invisible pot sideways. "Well, perhaps he was sent to gauge your weaknesses in preparation for the coming battle."
"Trust me, Giles, Spike doesn't care about the Feast of St. Vigeous."
All present turned toward the new voice only to find Angel coming in from between the stacks.
Angel shrugged, vaulting down to the lower level. "Not that Spike isn't evil. He is. But, well, plans aren't really his style. He doesn't have the patience."
Buffy gaped at Angel. Well, there went any doubt about his knowing mystery vamp.
"Spike, did you say?" Giles began flipping rapidly through his books, frowning. "I am unfamiliar with . . . does he have another name? A proper name, I mean." He looked up at Angel expectantly.
"You probably have him listed as William the Bloody."
The page flipping increased. "William the . . ." Giles stopped suddenly, his head slowly rising to look at Angel with horror-widened eyes. "Good Lord. You're saying this vampire is the Slayer of Slayers."
"What?" Buffy didn't know what a Slayer of Slayers was. Well, she'd never heard it mentioned before. But if a slayer slayed vamps then she had a pretty good idea of what the Slayer of Slayers slayed. Okay. That word had, like, no meaning now . . . repetition did weird things to Buffy brain.
Still . . .
The Slayer of Slayers? That vamp? The one with the true blue eyes that seemed to reveal the depths of a soul vamps weren't supposed to have?
It didn't seem possible. But, then, what did she know about him besides the fact that he was gorgeous and had an accent that could make a girl's knees weak? She was willing to bet that one had no trouble hunting at all. The thought made her shudder – but not for the reasons it should have.
Buffy was brought out of her thoughts by Angel, who had stepped very close to her, though his words were mostly still directed at Giles.
"Look, all I'm saying that if Spike was going to kill Buffy he'd have done it. He's simple like that. I'm pretty sure he didn't even know the Slayer was here."
Well, maybe not before, Buffy thought, but he certainly did now. But he'd seemed pretty ready to let her dust him last night. She had a hard time thinking he was going to come after her anytime soon.
Still . . . maybe vampires had mood swings?
Giles was watching Angel speculatively. "You seem to know a great deal about this vampire."
Angel sighed. "He's a part of the house of Aurelius – unfortunately." The last was muttered so low Buffy wasn't sure anyone but her had heard it and she tilted her head to look up at Angel curiously. In the background she could hear the page-flipping resume.
The flipping stopped, faint muttering could be heard and then there was a loud thump. Buffy turned and saw with surprise that Giles, her watcher, had actually dropped his book.
"The Sourge of Europe," he said in a curiously blank tone. He blinked, seemed to begin breathing again, head swiveling back to Angel. "Good Lord, you're his . . . well, grandsire, I suppose would be the appropriate term."
Was there a limit to the number of "good Lord"s a person could use in a day? Because if there was Giles was seriously in danger of reaching it. And why was Angel looking so uncomfortable? Unless it was true – the part about Spike being his grandchilde or whatever. That would explain why he'd been at Angel's apartment, and maybe why Angel hadn't dusted him.
Angel shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, yeah."
"Good Lord," Giles murmured, turning back to his books frantically.
Buffy noticed that Angel didn't mention that Spike had been to see him.
Why had Spike been to see him? Aside from the whole same clan thing. Did that even matter to Vamps? Angel had dusted Darla. And he'd had no problem with letting Buffy face down the Master – either time.
"Uh," Willow broke the quiet reluctantly, "I hate to break this up when, you know, we're at such an important point, but the bell is about to ring. And, and . . ." She looked to Buffy apologetically. "Snyder's kinda still on you about that whole Parent/Teacher Night thing. A-and being late to class isn't gonna earn you any points . . ." she trailed off and Buffy groaned.
"Darn it, I totally forgot about that." She'd like to say it was all the excitement, between St. Vigeous and the new arrival, but honestly she'd forgotten about it before that. Too busy thinking about crazy Frankenstein boys and Angel.
Reluctantly she grabbed her bag and Willow's elbow and steered them toward the doors, Xander hurrying to follow behind.
"You, uh, do the researchy thing on this new guy, Spike, or William, or whoever. We'll catch up later. And Angel—" She turned, but Angel was already gone. She couldn't help but feel a little deflated at that.
"Okay," Xander said, having noticed the brooding vampire's absence as well. "That's it. I'm puttin' a collar with a little bell on that guy."
~.~.~.~
Spike woke up with a headache. It didn't surprise him; he'd drunk himself into a right stupor after his encounter with Angelus and then the little slayer the night before. Damn near drunk himself into oblivion, and he wasn't entirely certain he wouldn't have welcomed it.
Bloody hell, but he'd been a right fool last night, begging the soddin' Slayer to end his miserable existence. But when he left Angelus' flat he was dejected. His sire was gone and she wasn't coming back. So maybe it was foolish, but in the wake of his talk with Angelus all he'd wanted was for it all to be over. He'd lost his maker and the love of his unlife; what did he have left to live for? Or exist for at any rate. When he realized the girl was a slayer he thought: what the hell? Death by Slayer had to be better than walking into the sun. 'Least he could go out with a bang.
Only she wouldn't do it. What the hell kind of a slayer refused to kill a vampire?
Come to think on it, what the hell was a slayer doing so close to Angelus' flat? She had to know he was there. Vamp didn't set up residence in the Slayer's territory without her knowing about it.
Not that it made any difference to him. The chit could be sleeping with the old forehead for all he cared. No skin off his nose.
She wasn't sleeping with him though. The nose never lied. If they were sleeping together he'd have smelled it, no matter if it had been a few days.
He refused to acknowledge the bit of relief that crept through his cold dead heart at that realization.
He would admit, however, to some curiosity regarding the relationship between his grandsire and this slayer. Angelus had never been one for hanging about once a slayer came to town. Hell, he wasn't much for demon hot-spots like the Hellmouth – too much competition. Actually, Spike hadn't even realized this was a hellmouth until that afternoon when groggy memories of conversations around him at the demon bar he got sloshed in the night before had finally penetrated his post-drunken haze.
Angelus, a slayer, and a hellmouth.
Might be worth it to stick around and see what was what. Hadn't got anything better to do, and the little slayer intrigued him – nothing had intrigued him since he lost Dru.
And, who knew, maybe he'd convince her to dust him yet.
A/N: Ta-da! Um... or not, but, yeah, here's the next chapter. Not much Spike, sorry about that, but it's not like he's going away so we'll see more of him.
Thanks for reading ^_^
reenas-as