Sengoku Otogi Zōshi: Buffy

By Abby Road

CHAPTER 7

This was what she missed most. Just hunting. It was a balmy night, with a slight breeze, and the cityglow lit her familiar path through the cemetery. Spike stalked beside her in silence. No words were needed. Not after so many years of fighting with, and against, one another. She followed at his side as he tracked the scent of their new friends – not even breaking stride to stake a newly risen vampire as it launched itself at her from behind a tree.

"Do you think they're alright?"

"I think they can take care of themselves – looking at who they run with."

This was new - this easy camaraderie. Her respecting his opinion – respecting him. If she thought too hard about how fucked up their relationship had been… Well, she just couldn't think about it. She couldn't hate herself, or him, anymore. He was here now. That was good. And that was as far as she was willing to analyze.

"You're right. I shouldn't worry."

Spike was scanning the semi-dark with game face on. His golden eyes were luminescent with reflected light and the brow-ridges of his demon cast dramatic shadows across his face. She had never told him – that she loved that face as well. That she knew it was a face of one who loved her. She didn't know if she could say the words, even now. She remembered Kagome's tearful words for her own demon - which he should not have to hide in shame.

But how many ways, over the years, had she told Spike that his demon nature was abhorrent to her? She'd told him that he was a disgusting, worthless, soulless, thing – so often and in so many ways that she could not say otherwise now. The words would ring hollow in his ears. Now, she held the fear that he would not hear those unspoken words within her lifetime. In every waking moment his denial rang in her ears: "No you don't. But thanks for saying it." That had been his response to her admission of love. Even as he was dying – even as their joined hands burned with the flame of his hard-won soul - he could not believe those words.

"HIRAIKOTSU!"

"Huh…Boomerang Bone. Nice ring to it. Don'cha think?"

The weapon in question sliced the air, and tree branches, in front of them – then whirled by on a return path.

"This way maybe?"

She returned his easy grin and they dashed off after Hiraikotsu. Judging by the scene that greeted them, she'd been grievously underestimating the monk and demon exterminator.

It looked like they'd disturbed an unlucky nest of demons. Hiraikotsu cut a bloody swath through their numbers and the stragglers were falling neatly to the practiced arc of Miroku's staff. Buffy didn't know how such an innocuous looking staff-head could slice and dice like that – but she wanted one. Maybe he'd let her play with it later.

A particularly nasty looking green bastard in leather armor took a side-swing at Miroku's neck with a big ass broadsword and he parried with the staff. The wood inexplicably failed to shatter and sparked instead. As Miroku pushed his opponent back Buffy realized it was, perhaps, time to reassess their new allies. She'd dealt with those demons before – "waffle-somthingorother" – and they were not lightweights. As the demon stumbled to regain his footing under the unexpected resistance, Miroku darted back and in under his opponents guard – delivering a sharp blow with the blunt end of his staff and coming up to smash the things head in as it doubled over with a shout of "Houriki!"

How in the hell had a vampire gotten ahold of this guy's neck?

Miroku turned in a flatteringly dramatic swirl of purple robes before staggering. Sango turned, gutting her opponent with a wakizashi, in time to wrap a chain around the sword coming down on Miroku's unguarded back.

Unfortunately, the wafflewatsits had hired help and it wasn't going down that easy. The downed opponent at Sango's back grabbed her ankle in a crushing grip and ripped her off her feet – sending the sword wielder back on a trajectory toward Miroku. He'd recovered, somewhat, and was able to roll out of the way. Buffy was just about to join the fray when a blur of cream fur leapt past her. With a subsonic roar, Kirara launched herself onto Miroku's opponent and commenced the mauling.

From where she was partially pinned, Sango brought her arm up and sliced her opponent's throat. In Buffy's experience with these demons, that would give her – yep – just enough time to regain her feet before the f'ing thing was moving again. Before it regained its feet she drove her wakizashi into the back of it's neck – then darted back to regain her breath.

Miroku had put only a moderate distance between Kirara's struggle with the remaining demon. He was kneeling on one knee and Shippo – from where he'd appeared Buffy had not a clue – was clinging to his shoulder. Both were watching in dismay as the demons continued to take seemingly fatal wounds without lasting effect. The resemblance to Spike's expression, the first time they had encountered these demons, was almost funny. In the end, they'd actually had to dismember the things and employ a little witchcraft to adequately dispose of the parts. She got the feeling that Sango was coming to a similar conclusion as she neatly sliced off an arm.

Buffy gestured silently to Spike and they split off. She came in at an angle behind Sango's demon and delivered a flying kick to the back of his head.

"Switch?"

Sango glanced at Miroku, then back to her and tossed her the wakizashi – hilt first.

"Thank you," and with that she ran off toward the monk.

Hers was already down an arm, but Spike was attempting the gruesome task of decapitation by boot-knife. Kirara, having no opposable thumbs, was of minimal help – only able to jump in when Spike lost his hold and gave her an opening.

Then she heard Miroku shout a warning.

"Get behind me!"

Huh? The cat fled the battle scene with haste to stand at Miroku's back –she and Spike followed. The monk was holding his right hand out in front of himself. As soon as the field was clear of allies he unwrapped the prayer beads from his hand with a shout of "Kazana!"

And a black hole opened up in his palm. Buffy'd seen some weird shit, but this was right on the top of her list. She didn't think the name – "Wind Void" – even began to describe what she was seeing. Every-god-dammned-thing was flying into the hole in his hand: demons, tombstones, trees, chunks of sod. It was over as quickly as it had begun. Nothing left of their opponents but a crater in the dirt.

"I, for one, am glad we stood clear."

She nodded her agreement.

"Are you alright, Sango?"

"I'm fine! There was no need for that. We were-"

"You're bleeding."

He was reaching for her arm, where she'd been caught under her coral-pink shoulder guard. Her wound was showing through the black material of her shirt. She managed to simultaneously slap his hand away and catch his arm to support him as he leaned on the staff.

"I'm fine! What were you thinking? You shouldn't use the Kazana so casually."

"I cannot allow you to come to harm, Sango. Not while I draw breath with which to defend you."

"I can't lose you! Not you too."

This was getting a little bit intense – and awkward. She felt like she was intruding on an intimate moment. Apparently the cat and the kid felt the same way, 'cause they'd backed off to allow the couple room for their tearful embrace.

Spike cleared his throat loudly.

"Much as I hate to interrupt. You two smell simply delicious, and unless you'd like to be entertaining a dinner party in the near future – we'd best be getting behind closed doors."

Yep. That was the Spike she knew and loved - always inappropriately witty.