Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
This chapter is based on the episode "The Replacement"
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CH 5
Bloody bossy little bint. Slave driver, was his Bit. Always had been, to his recollection, but since they'd come over with a new set of memories she was worse. Now there wasn't just their original agreement, there was the standard set by the monks. Apparently the monks thought it was a good thing to have a vampire who was taking a break from being the big bad on hand to help watch over their key. And in the interest of furthering that goal the false memories they'd implanted had Spike spending much more time with the Slayer and her backup singers than he liked. And, of course, the Bit was insistent he keep up the charade, even if he remembered the truth.
Woulda been easier if the monks had been able to wipe him clean too. Then he'd be feeling whatever fake memory Spike was supposed to be feeling, instead of what he was feeling – which was mostly confused and irritable because of it. He should hate spending time with the white hats. They should hate it. But he didn't. And he didn't like that he didn't. More than that, he didn't like not knowing how much of that was real and how much was this jumble of nonsense they'd stuffed into his noggin.
Spike stopped beneath the basement sewer access into the magic shop and scowled up at it. This every-other week herb run the monks had dropped into his routine irritated him. Not that burba weed didn't enhance the taste of pig swill, but he'd done well enough without for a soddin' year. Was only gonna be more embarrassing now that the Watcher had taken up ownership of the place. Especially since the Bit insisted that he pay for the stuff. It was no hardship on his wallet, but it was certainly a blow to his image.
Not that he had much of an image left since it had come out he and the Slayer's kid sis had been playing at friends since the first time Dru dumped him. The way their new memories went he'd wanted to keep that bit under wraps, but about the third round of "should we or should we not trust the notes about trusting Spike", Bit had caved and confessed. After that he'd become a regular fixture in their lives. Course, they all knew the primary reason Buffy allowed it was that she couldn't stop it. If Bit was going to insist on spending time with him, the Slayer wanted it to happen where she could keep an eye on them.
It still chafed.
Spike shoved aside the manhole cover and leapt up through the opening into the Magic Box to begin perusing the stock. Buggering watcher had rearranged the shelves again, and Spike hoped he settled on an arrangement before the store opened for business in a couple weeks. It took him a good while to locate the burba weed far to the back. Maybe once the store opened for business he'd make his purchases upstairs. Probably be easier to find things. Although the watcher would be packaging the herbs for use in spells, which meant a few grams in a bag or bottle, as opposed to the bulky packages Spike preferred.
He'd finally tracked down the object of his search when a loud crash from above drew his attention.
What the hell? Place wasn't even open yet and there was already a ruckus? Knew the Watcher never shoulda taken over this place. Proprietors had a bad habit of coming over dead.
Spike raced up the stairs and burst into the room in time to see an ugly, tall demon in a cape pointing a stick at the watcher.
"You are not the slayer. You do not concern me."
The demon turned and swept from the room. Since Rupert wasn't much worse for wear, despite his current residence on the floor, Spike didn't bother to rush.
"Need a hand up, Rupes?"
"Yes, thank— Spike." The watcher's sincere tone faded to one of resignation and a touch of irritation.
Didn't know why the old man was irritated with him. He wasn't the one what tossed the bloke to the ground.
"What are you doing here?"
Ah, suspicion. Did his demon a bit of good to know at least one person in this bunch of do-gooders hadn't forgotten what he was. Still, another part of him protested that he'd been making nice for nearly a year now; hadn't he earned some trust? This lot knew him well enough to know he didn't play the long game. Didn't have patience for the wait, or the stomach for the deception. Maybe that made him a sorry excuse for a demon, but it was the honest to God truth.
"Burba run," Spike responded blandly.
"Ah." Despite his clear displeasure, the watcher reached to accept a hand up from Spike. "And may I ask why you chose not to come to my aid sooner?"
Spike could feel the tendons in his neck tighten at the implied accusation, but he forced down his anger and shrugged. "He was on his way out by the time I got in. And then there was the small matter of the flaming ball of death outside."
The watcher colored as he realized that Spike was quite right. He didn't apologize though, which was fine, because Spike didn't need apologies. He didn't want apologies. But it woulda been nice, maybe, just once, to hear one of them lower themselves to apologize to a demon.
"Gonna call your girl?" Spike asked. He might not be getting an apology, but he could certainly prolong Rupert's embarrassment. Nothing quite like reminding a man he needed a girl to look after him, even if that girl was the slayer.
The watcher's color deepened. "Nonsense. I'm sure Buffy is quite busy, with school and such. She's probably not even at home. And it isn't as though this demon is a grave threat. Just because he is large, and strong, and appears to be seeking the slayer . . ." he trailed off uncomfortably.
Spike held out the cordless phone wordlessly and smirked when the watcher reached obediently to take it.
Giles only scowled as he hit the autodial. "Yes, Buffy? What? No. Dawn, is Buffy about? Thank you."
It didn't take a vampire's advanced hearing to make out the Bit bellowing for her sister on the other end of the phone. The watcher, ear to the receiver, winced.
"Buffy? Yes. We have a," Giles looked at the ruined bookcase and the chair he'd knocked over when the demon threw him, "a situation at the magic shop. Perhaps you might gather the others and— yes. Thank you. I'll see you soon."
The watcher ended the connection and held the phone back out toward Spike, who looked at him with a raised brow. After a long, silent moment, Rupert sighed in resignation and walked around the counter to place the phone back in its cradle. Spike felt a pull of satisfaction, petty though it might be, at his victory.
Spike hopped up on the counter as the watcher moved to straighten what he could of the mess. At length the man paused to glare at him.
"Why are you still here?"
"Thing looked fairly serious. Thought I'd wait around and see if the Slayer wanted a hand."
"And the 'flaming ball of death'?"
Spike stretched languidly. "Close enough to sunset now, or it will be by the time you lot are done complicating things with your research."
The watcher's lips compressed in a tight line. "I see."
Spike doubted that he did. Honestly, he didn't know if he saw anymore. He knew he wanted to help. Maybe not fervently, maybe not all the time, but anything strong enough to go seeking a slayer was bad news. He'd given his word to the Bit that he'd help, and certainly the death of this particular slayer wouldn't do him any favors. Not if the Bit's future was to be believed. Besides, the Slayer had been fairly decent to him since he'd started being useful, more so since the monk's spell. Not that they were ever going to be bosom buddies, but there were worse allies to have. At least this one had a bit of wit to her, style too. Loved to watch her fight, quipping all the while. Yeah, the world would be a duller place without her spark and fire.
The watcher said nothing more as they waited for the Scoobies (because that was actually what they called themselves – he'd almost thought it was the Bit's thing) to arrive. Fortunately it wasn't long before Buffy came plowing through the door, her original band and Dawn trailing behind.
"Hey," the boy panted, "slow down. We don't all have slayer speed and stamina, you know?"
"Seriously," the Bit seconded. "I think I lost a lung somewhere."
Buffy ignored them, looking instead at the broken shelves and then, with relief, at her relatively unscathed Watcher. A moment later her eyes flashed to Spike, a question writ clearly in the green depths.
"Watcher had a bit of a run-in this afternoon. Came in at the end."
Buffy nodded, demonstrating more of that still-novel trust he was going to have to get used to, and the Bit smiled brightly from behind her. Someone was clearly pleased with the monks' take on this whole arrangement.
"Oh my gosh!" Red exclaimed as she finally managed to catch her breath. "Giles, a-are you okay?"
"I believe I shall survive, Willow."
"So, what happened G-Man? Give us the low down on the show down."
Even the boy's friends gave him odd looks at that colorful turn of phrase. It took a valiant effort on Spike's part not to mock. They didn't appreciate all the sacrifices he was making under this arrangement.
After a moment the watcher shook his head, as though to clear away even the memory of such butchering of the King's English, and bent to collect a statue Spike had failed to notice.
"Well, I was, err, sorting through the remnants of the previous owner's stock, when quite out of nowhere this unpleasant demon fellow appeared—"
"Oo, demon. I'll get books." Red scampered away toward the watcher's private collection, currently housed in boxes at the far end of the room. Spike had never seen anyone so eager to research or read, not even in his days as William the poncey-poet.
"Err, thank you, Willow. As I was saying. This demon suddenly appeared and—"
"Was the demon humanoid, Giles?" Willow interrupted again, her voice somewhat muffled by the box she was leaning into.
"Um, yes. And quite tall."
"Got it." A moment later she returned triumphantly with several books. She handed one to Buffy and another to Dawn before settling with Buffy on the floor to peruse the remaining tomes. The Bit moved to lean against the counter beside Spike. For a moment Buffy's eyes followed, and then she turned her attention forcibly to her book. This new version of the Slayer was certainly less antagonistic. She wasn't so bad when she wasn't jumping to conclusions left and right.
"So, what happened after the big, tall, rude dude snuck up on you?" the boy prompted after a moment.
Giles turned to him. "Ah, yes. So this bloke raised some sort of staff, as though to strike me. And, being a resourceful sort of man, I grabbed the nearest item at hand to fend off his attacks." He raised the statue in both hands and proceeded to "demonstrate" how the ensuing fight had progressed.
"I managed to hit him once, off guard as he was, and he parried."
The watcher began to move about the room, swinging the statue to ward off an imaginary foe.
His reenactment was obviously exaggerated. Spike may have come in at the end of the confrontation, but the epic struggle the watcher depicted could not possibly have taken place in the three seconds it took for Spike to get from the basement to the store proper after hearing the crash of the initial confrontation. Add to that the fact that it had been very clear the watcher's assailant had been none the worse for wear and Spike doubted Rupert had the time to do much more than heft the ugly relic before the demon threw him across the room into his brand new shelves.
Spike held his tongue until the questions of the others forced the watcher to admit that he'd not actually damaged his foe, though he imagined he'd given the bugger "rather a turn."
Spike snorted. "Yeah, he looked right scared as he knocked you on your arse and swept from the room."
Giles scowled, "I thought you only came in at the end?"
"Did, but it was fairly obvious that thing hadn't the slightest interest in you."
Buffy grinned, a warm and open expression that seemed to brighten the whole room. Damn American obsession with dentistry. Those pearly whites could direct air traffic.
"So, a mythic triumph over a completely indifferent foe?"
Her friendly jab made Spike swallow against a chuckle and he saw the Bit's eyes wander from her book to his face. He maintained a carefully bland expression in the face of her scrutiny.
"Yes, well, I'm neither dead, nor unconscious, so I say bravo for me," the watcher huffed, clearly affronted by the lack of concern demonstrated by his charge.
"Some good demons in this one," Willow offered. "See if your guy's in here." She offered the book to the watcher who took it from her gratefully.
"So you bought the magic shop and you were attacked before it opened," said the boy. "Who's up for a swingin' chorus of the 'We told you so' symphony?"
Finally, someone who agreed with Spike on that subject. Though it was a sad day when Xander Harris was the voice of reason in any group.
"That's what I've been saying all along," Spike grumbled to the Bit.
Dawn shot him a glare that clearly said 'it's important to the buggering timeline I plan to bugger all to hell', though possibly with less swearing, or at least less British swearing.
Giles was ignoring them all, his attention suddenly fixed entirely on the book in his hands.
"Toth."
"What?" Xander asked.
"He called you a 'Toth'," Buffy said, closing her book and standing with a tempting little stretch. Spike tried not to focus on the strip of skin exposed at her waist by the action. "It's a British expression. It means, like, moron."
Spike rolled his eyes. Where did she come up with these things?
"Bloody well is not," he said.
"Toth is the name of the demon," Giles corrected. "Be careful with that."
The last was directed at Harris, who had pulled a crystal from one of the boxes and was playing with it. And they said Spike had ADD. Boy couldn't focus for half a minute.
Harris set the crystal carefully back in its box and the watcher continued as though he hadn't interrupted himself. "Ancient demon. Very strong. Last survivor of the Tothric clan. It also says that for a demon he's unusually sophisticated."
The thing carried a stick and that made him "unusually sophisticated?" What were these watchers on about? Plenty of demons were as intelligent as humans, maybe more so. In fact, there were very few species mucking about this dimension nowadays that weren't. The others had all been killed out long ago, too stupid to keep out of the way of the humans' increasingly sophisticated weaponry. Only big, hulking things, like Fyarl and Suvolte, occasionally wandered through.
The boy made a stupid joke, but no one was paying much attention. Red was still in her books and demon-girl was headed for the boxes in the back, probably looking for weapons. Smart chit, that one. Honest too. He rather liked her. Bit had abandoned him to read over Red's shoulder and Spike lounged back to wait.
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Dawn hadn't been a party to this research party the first time around. And once Giles noted the demon's "distinctive olfactory presence", she began to wish she wasn't involved now. The dump? Seriously? She almost volunteered to stay behind and watch the shop. Except, of course, that there was no shop yet. Well . . . there was a shop, but it wasn't open yet, so no watching was required. Also, she had a feeling if she didn't tag along Spike was going to slip away the moment they got outside. Maybe it was her obvious lack of concern, but he seemed to have decided this was clearly not one of those instances in which his help was required.
He was probably right. As far as she knew he hadn't helped with Toth in the original timeline. He had been there though. She remembered her sister complaining about it.
Besides, if she was going to the dump so was he. It was only fair. Right?
They were discussing strategy now. The general consensus was that weapons would be good. Dawn didn't see what it mattered. If Oofdar, goddess of childbirth, hadn't made an impact, she couldn't imagine what would. Though something sharp and pointy might work. Just because a demon was impervious to bludgeoning didn't mean it couldn't be cut into itty bitty pieces. Or beheaded, which was probably easier.
Everyone was busy rummaging through boxes when Buffy slipped outside. No one else seemed to notice.
Dawn made her way, unobtrusively, to the window and peered outside. Buffy was down the street at the payphone near the corner. For a moment she couldn't figure out who her sister would be calling –it wasn't like she kept mom up-to-date on these outings– until she realized that Riley was conspicuously absent.
Huh. Weird. This was well before he lost his strength and Buffy spent half her time evading him so he didn't get hurt on patrol. The two of them should be nearly inseparable right now; the Riley she remembered from this time period had stuck closer than Buffy's shadow. But now that she thought about it he'd hardly been around the last couple of weeks. He'd even missed the "rescue Dawn" party last week.
Definitely weird. She'd been planning on putting some distance between them, but she hadn't had the chance to work on it. For one thing, all her plans had to be modified now that she was one of the gang. For another, breaking people up seemed really mean, even if it was for their own good. Damn it. She should probably start working on that. Especially if she was going to orchestrate the nice, easy, gradual "drifting apart" she had envisioned.
Dawn pulled away from the window as Buffy marched back to the shop. She didn't look especially pleased, maybe even a little worried, but she pasted on a smile before she came back inside.
"So, everybody ready?" Buffy asked. She strode over to the table and made a show of perusing the weapons Giles had laid out. Anya was clutching a baseball bat and Xander hefted a sword experimentally before setting it down and frowning at the remaining weapons.
Buffy reached past them decisively. "I claim the axe," she said cheerfully.
Spike snorted. "For all the good it's like to do."
Buffy scowled at him, but said nothing.
"You don't want anything?" Dawn asked to break the tension.
Spike shrugged. "Already got my weapons." He flashed a bit of fang.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Show off."
Giles cleared his throat. "Yes, well, speaking of shows—"
"Oo!" Willow cried eagerly. "Let's get this show on the road! Right?"
Giles nodded. "Er, yes. Quite."
"And you complain about my puns," Xander groused.
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Buffy switched the battle axe from her right hand into her left as she strode through the streets of Sunnydale with her friends, and former mortal enemy, behind her. How had this day gone from apartment hunting with her friends to demon hunting at the dump so quickly? Not that they were actually at the dump yet, but they were headed that way. Even at regular-people speed they would be there too soon for her liking.
Still, the dump had its advantages. It was far off the beaten path, no humans would be there at this time of night, and most demons avoided it. She thought it might have something to do with their super-sensitive sense of smell. Not that she was going to ask. That was just begging for a lecture and probably assigned reading too. She got plenty of those in class, she didn't need them from her watcher too.
It'd probably make Giles super happy though.
And speaking of super-sensitive noses – why was Spike coming with? She hadn't received a note, so she doubted he had. Clearly this was nothing world-ending, and it wasn't like Dawn was in any danger. Maybe he was hoping to get a good laugh at her expense? From what Giles said this Toth guy seemed pretty strong; maybe Spike was hoping she'd get knocked around a little, give him an opportunity to mock. Although, he hadn't mocked her over the whole Dracula-thrall thing, which, honestly, if their positions had been reversed she probably would have.
Okay, so, if he actually wanted to help, well, that was good. Right? And if Toth really was super bash-resistance then having another super strong person around could be really useful. So long as he didn't get in her way, or complain too much, she supposed she didn't have an issue with him tagging along.
The way her twin was clinging to his arm? She did sort of have an issue with that. If there'd been leering or bumpies –in any region– she might have tried to put a stop to it, but Spike was being a perfect gentleman. Which was wigsome all on its own. She pushed that thought away, back into the pile of things she wasn't going to be thinking about any time soon because they'd only wig her out further.
They had a demon to find, and from the smell of it they were nearly to their destination.
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The city dump reeked, which made Spike glad he didn't have to breathe. He didn't know how the Slayer and her mates weren't on their knees gagging, though he supposed they were accustomed to less than pleasant smells. Aside vampires, most demons had positively rank blood, and it didn't conveniently turn to dust when they died. Dawn was pressed nearly into his side, nose practically buried in his shoulder, no doubt attempting to block out the putrid smell. He scowled down at her, not quite certain how she'd managed to drag him along, or why. This Toth was only one demon. Clearly he wasn't a slayer hunter, or Spike would have heard of him before. He might have the Slayer in his sights for now, but Buffy could easily handle a single demon, even if he did carry a shiny stick.
"My, what a wonderful smell you've discovered," Spike snarked.
Harris threw him a look, but the others didn't seem to catch his Star Wars reference, which might have been just as well. He didn't have much of a reputation left; he didn't want to tarnish it by revealing a love of pop-culture science fiction. Bad enough the Bit knew he watched Star Trek.
"I found a spell so you can't smell anything," the red witch said eagerly, "but it does it by taking your nose off, so . . . no."
"Dunno," Spike said, "could be an improvement for Harris here."
The boy glared at him. "Why are you here again?"
Dawn tightened her grip on Spike's arm and spoke up before he could give a creative and rude reply. "Because Spike, unlike you, is actually useful in a fight. And because he's my friend."
The stubborn set of her features dared any of them to protest. They didn't.
"Okay," Buffy said. "So, if the testosterone show is over, how about we start looking for this demon?"
"You mean that demon?" Spike pointed at the exceptionally tall, robe-clad Toth, who was emerging from behind a pile of garbage several meters from the slayer.
The others turned just as the demon lifted his stick and took aim.
"Take cover!" Xander shouted.
"Ya think?" Dawn snapped as she dragged Spike behind the nearest solid item, which happened to be an old fashioned claw-foot tub. Was actually a bit of alright, that tub. Might have liked it, if he hadn't the dosh to buy new. Vampires knew scavenging and this beauty was almost good-as-new.
Dawn pulled him to a crouch and he looked at her in question. Thought she brought him along to fight? Why were they hiding?
"Hey, tall, dark, and 'what were you thinking'," Buffy shouted. "Over here."
Near as Spike could figure, she needn't have bothered. This demon definitely had a grudge; he didn't even seem to notice the rest of them. Time to take advantage of that.
Spike disentangled himself from the Bit, and prepared to pounce. Only just as he started his leap, the Slayer ran at the bloke and he turned aside, causing Spike to over shoot. Buffy stumbled past him, put off balance by her missed attack, and Spike reached to steady her without thought.
She shrugged him away and propelled forward again.
"Oi! Wait for me," Spike complained, running after her to circle around Toth's other side. "Don't you think we should coordinate?" He ducked as Toth's shiny stick launched a ball of light. It exploded a lamp nearby. The shiny stick was, what? A ray gun? Lovely.
"No, I think we should kill it!"
Spike growled, but picked up his pace and darted in toward the demon from the opposite side as the Slayer. He kicked out at the back of the demon's knee, but the thing didn't so much as flinch. What the hell? Thing had joints like everything else didn't he? That should have at least jostled him.
Buffy delivered a roundhouse kick to Toth's face, but the bloke barely moved. The slayer, however, went flying into a nearby junk heap.
"You see!" Giles shouted.
Had a bit of a point. If a slayer and a master vampire couldn't hurt this bloke, what hope did a middle-aged librarian with nothing but a fertility statue have? Not that this was the best time for childish justifications.
Buffy was struggling to disentangle herself from the pile of debris, and Toth was raising his stick again. Spike launched himself at the demon, jumping to wrap his arm around Toth's neck. The bugger was tall; Spike's feet were dangling in the air. Toth ignored him. Well now, that was right insulting. Spike tightened his right arm around Toth's neck, but it seemed to have no effect. He reached around with his left in an attempt to push the demon's arm aside and disrupt his aim. It was no easy task.
Toth fired.
"Watch out!"
The boy shoved Buffy, who was only now regaining her feet, aside and into another pile of junk. Spike watched, torn between panic and smug glee (demon, yeah? And it wasn't as though he hadn't thought about killing the boy himself once or twice – hell, sometimes he thought about it once or twice in a single encounter), as the full force of the blast took Harris in the chest.
Harris flew backwards into a pile of trash, but otherwise appeared unharmed.
Spike wondered if the relief he felt was the result of the monk's spell, or if it was a result of spending the last year with the Bit.
The others flocked out of their hidey-holes to check on Harris. Which was right stupid as it made them all open targets. Toth wasn't the least bit affected by Spike's dead weight on his back, and he'd only managed to nudge the behemoth's arm a fraction.
Only then did Spike realize that he was no longer clinging to Toth's back.
"He's gone," Red observed to Buffy from the boy's side.
Gone? And how. "Bloody well vanished," Spike confirmed. "Your book didn't say anything about any special propensity for magicks, did it?" he asked the watcher.
Rupert shook his head. "Though it did say his species is unusually—"
"Sophisticated," Spike cut him off. "Yeah, I remember."
Vanishing without so much as an incantation was more than "sophisticated".
And why had Toth run off anyway? They didn't exactly have him on the ropes. Maybe his stick had a limit? Would explain why it hadn't exploded Harris, as Spike had expected. Maybe after half a dozen shots it was only a worthless light show.
"I'm okay, I'm okay." The boy accepted a hand up from Rupert and waved the girls away as they tried to brush the dust and other, less desirable, things off his clothing.
"Are you hurt?" Red asked.
Harris groaned as he tested his limbs one by one. "Well, it was no picnic. But everything appears to be working."
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Chapter End Notes:
Technically I still posted this weekend since it's a holiday weekend for me... Would have posted sooner, but we did end up going out of town. I will post the next chapter this week because it completes the "episode" and also because I will be at a steam punk thing on Saturday. Drop me a note if you've got the time.
Thanks for reading
reenas-as
