Harm Done – Chapter 5
Always was the case that as soon as everything was humming along Shipshape and Bristol fashion, some cosmic force in the universe had to go turn things tits up. Fate's Fickle Finger, one step forward and two sodding steps back and never mind the mixed metaphor. And the greatest injustice is that the wanker to blame for the turn of events was-
"Spikey boo!"
Spike winced. "Not human anymore, no need to screech to make yourself heard over the din of your mates." A pause. "Doubt they were all deaf as corpses neither, come to that."
"Sorry!" Harm hissed with a pout in a very, very loud stage-whisper. They were walking through a fairly deserted quad on the campus, heading towards where Spike and Stephen thought the tunnel had more or less reached, snaking west from the base of operations that was the abandoned Psi Theta fraternity house, under one of the roads that crossed campus, up another fifteen yards or so and then around the geology hall, where Henry reckoned ground wasn't quite up to the task of holding up a new tunnel.
So like the bleeding riddle of the poor sod who had to get the fox, chicken, and cabbage over the river one at a time, Spike was out with Harmony to make sure the tunnel was on track to where the Gem was, but without risking Harmony actually meeting (and therefore almost certainly yapping her little trap off) to the minions about what they were actually looking for. Had to keep her away from Sunday too, even though he knew full well that Sunday could smell Harm coming off him like a bloody beacon. Which was brilliant in its own way but she was clearly bubbling for a massive strop that she wasn't being put up as high and mighty as she clearly hoped, and Spike knew the day was coming when he'd need to keep that pot from bubbling over. Was fine insofar as it went but he didn't like leaving Harm on her own – didn't trust her any further than he could throw her – less even, because little pidge like that he reckoned he could probably throw quite far if it came to it.
"Blondie bear! You're not listening to me." She tugged at the sleeve of his duster. Spike growled.
"Oi mind the leather. And believe me, could try twice as hard not to listen and still hear more than I want by half."
She'd tried to parse that one out of course, failing with a pout but keen enough to tell he wasn't pleased given her audible gulp.
"I um… I think this is the wrong way."
That got his attention like nothing quick.
"What you talking about," he hissed, eyes locking into hers and twisting his wrist to grab the hand that had been a moment ago grabbing the duster, pushing himself into her space. She didn't eep this time though, didn't even take an involuntary breath. He grinned without a trace of good humor. Good, bint finally sussed out he wasn't in the mood for a chuckle.
"I think it's maybe more… that way" she flashed a single finger on her free had in near enough the exact opposite direction they were going, off towards the southeast and a block of sodding fraternities – though these ones actually populated by the local academia, such as they could be called as much.
Spike kicked a nearby tree, enjoying just for a moment the sharp thwack as it snapped in two and then tumbling over. Brilliant. Granted, it was one of those silly ornamental trees and not a particularly mature one at that, but it did leave a nice stake in the ground that he could use to bring Harm to a dusty end and then pretend this stupid sodding go at playin' at Indiana Jones could come to an end.
Harm must have at least sussed out part of that; a fledgling she may have been and nothing but a wet rag between her ears but she had some sense of when survival was on the line, especially when a three foot stake was standing out the ground and Spike's eyes were swinging between it and her like he was watching a bloody ping pong match.
"We did this a different way last time, it's confusing," she whined, squirming in place. "And anyway Brian did most of the work you just had this ugly book that was super old but Brian totally figured it out and you were just a stupid jerkface the whole time."
Scratch what he said about survival instincts, talking back to him that way. He tuned out the bollocks about Brian and what not and instead treated her to a none to restrained backhand; she went stumbling back a few feet then she fell on her bottom with an undignified ooompf, mouth frozen in a shocked little 'O'. Poxy little fledge thought she could talk to him that way. Oh what was…
Bint's little lip was trembling ever so. Cor' no she wasn't… and there it was. A very unvampiric sniffle. And then a half hicupp half sob that sounded like a bleeding donkey. None of the dainty little tears Dru had played at when things weren't going her way, nor the full-throated anger when she was well and truly pissed. And Christ, the girl was still going on.
"I am trying, Spike! I am trying so… so hard." She bloody well was crying now, screeching to beat the band. Never did like the sight of crying women, though, another thing that had remained of noncy little William.
"I'm sorry I don't remember everything but I'm doing my best and I didn't want to say anything because I knew you'd be mad, you're always just mad with me and I just want to make you happy and I know you want the gem but sometimes I… sometimes I…" she broke off in a giant sob.
"Please don't be mad at me," she squeaked out at last when she was coherent again.
Bugger. Now he felt like a right plonker.
Fight went out of him like a leaky sieve. Wasn't any fun when they didn't fight back, like how lots of the games he'd played with Dru had lost the light when she was too weak to give it to him proper and he'd had to treat her as gentle as spider's silk. Didn't like seeing girls cry. One thing to get 'em all hot and bothered and screaming a bit to get the blood pumping during a meal, and what of it. But wasn't sodding Angel, and silly chit looked like she was pouring her bloody heart out at him, all that she'd known him for a few weeks, whatever visions she'd been having as a human that brought her to him, aside.
"C'mere luv," he replied gruffly, holding out his hand. She'd glared at him for a full two seconds before scrambling up and after giving him a show of patting down her butt – and decent enough show it was that the leer he rewarded her with wasn't particularly forced – and then giving as imperious a shrug as she could muster and grabbing hold of him tight.
"Didn't mean any of that rubbish," he said a moment later, pulling her in close but keeping an eye on her anyhow; he had his limits, and wiping her sniffles on his duster would be a step to far, womanly tears or no.
"Jus' a little frustrated, yeh? Sooner we get the Gem, faster we can bugger on out of here, wheels burning and Slayer underground for good." Harm tensed up at the word 'Slayer', but that was understandable, especially as she hadn't apparently been friendly with the girl even while living.
"Where do you think we need to be digging then," he tried again as she followed beside him in sniffly silence. "You said the crypt was somewhere by the road and big open space on campus, yeh? You get another vision that's changed the game?"
"Think it's a different space and stuff, there's like a million quads on campus. There was a statue," girl said at last. "I waited in the tomb till the sun went down and it was so gross like dead bugs everywhere and the skeleton guy had no fashion sense like at all and my chest hurt from that stake" chit burst into tears again moaning something he couldn't catch so he just gave her hand a squeeze and let her get it out her system. Sounded right nasty to be honest, vision of getting staked."…and I was there for hours and then I crawled up and like first thing I see after looking at one dead guy with no fashion sense is another totally old guy with no fashion sense and I just wanted to get out of Sunnydale." She hiccupped. "I stayed though, for you."
Spike thought on that for a tic. One thing he'd learned over the decades was that the literal and the symbolic were fairly fluid when it came to seer visions. Sometimes a burning snake really was a sodding burning snake or what have you. So, wouldn't hurt to have a look for great big ugly statue somewhere on campus. Course if it was anything like his own time, be a dime a dozen of those. Sunlight bit was a bit ominous though, as was the sodding stake she was moaning about, though the fact that she apparently crawled out none worse could be a sign that it really was the gem they were after, and getting stabbed with a stake and crawling out the (metaphorical grave?) the same night was symbolic of the gem's power. Rubbed his own chest almost subconsciously once even so.
"Right pet, let's blow this joint and get something to eat, yeh? Nothing like a good hunt after a misunderstanding and all that. Have the help suss out great sodding statues of ugly blokes tomorrow and we'll go from there."
"Can we get ice cream?" She whispered – for real this time – looking up at him.
"You want… ice cream?"
"Well.. I mean low fat frozen yogurt, obviously. This…" She gestured to herself, "takes effort and I'm so not giving up now if I'm going to be beautiful forever. But yeah, can we? Like, what if we go to Froyo Hut on State and then we can like, kill the loser behind the counter and we can use his blood for toppings and stuff!"
Sounded a bit of alright to be honest. Dru had never really taken to human foods, and while she'd requested cucumber sandwiches (no crusts!) from time to time during her tea parties, more as not they'd ended up scattered on the floor underneath in the dust.
But Spike had never lost his love of powerful tastes and while frozen yogurt was not exactly in keeping with the image of the Big Bad, it was something he was loath to discourage in his fledge.
"Yeh, you can have ice cream pet-"
"Frozen yogurt"
"Frozen yogurt then. But no bloke behind the counter – still keeping a low profile, yeh. Start leaving corpses down Main Street"
"State Street"
"and might as well plaster a neon sign up that tells the white hats that someone's up to no good."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
Blessed silence.
"… can I have sprinkles, then?"
"Yeah, Harm, you can have sprinkles."
Not so blessed squealing.
Didn't mean he wasn't going to hunt though, just wasn't going to do it right under the Slayer's prissy little nose. He'd moved Harm again once he was sure she wasn't fresh from the grave feral and could be trusted on her own without being chained to the bleeding bedpost, this time into one of the perpetual 'for sale' homes that pitted the Sunnydale landscape like the sodden Pox, about halfway between the campus that was currently housing an ever growing (despite his best hopes) nest of minions playing fetch and carry, and the old factory that the Slayer had burned down in a fit of rage last time round.
He'd gone back even, despite the bad memories, hoping some of Dalton's (knew the name would come to him in the end!) research had survived, when he'd been searching for a cure for Dru last time round. Right useful lot of information there about Sunnydale's cursed and forgotten netherworld. None of it had, of course.
Still, it reminded him that these were another part of town that though the Slayer did sweep by every now and then, but where plenty of shady types lurked not all of them demonic and it wouldn't be too difficult to nab a lonely body and for her be none-the-wiser of who was to blame. She'd come by, dust a few fledges and be back for the next batch of fresh out the ground idiots in a week's time.
And so the next night, his smirk grew as he snuck up behind some teenage idiot having a smoke behind one of the dockside warehouses.
He gave a short nod and Harm jumped out, trying for all the world to copy his own style and flair when going in for the kill and instead tumblin' with a yelp before she was even remotely striking distance. Course, Harm had one big advantage on him, as when the idiot turned around to see what the fuss was about he saw less 'terrifying image of death' and more 'tarty princess spraining her ankle and tits heaving'. Which meant the plonker went and cheerfully closed the distance himself.
And Harm, for all her troubles had picked up real quick the finer art of hitting the artery first try (in fact, he thought with a frown, barring the feral rampage when she'd come to in the motel, it had been her on her literal first try, odd show of competence, that) and not just gouging out a throat and having blood pulsing like a bloody broken sprinkler any which way. Had those pretty little fangs of hers properly in the numpty's throat drinking away and the boy was so flabbergasted he hadn't even let out a scream. Have to reward her for that later, he thought while readjusting his pants as he stalked forward to take his share for the evening's kill. Was a much better sire than Angelus, if he didn't mind saying so and he bloody well didn't, teaching his childe right proper, unlike the great lummox.
Wasn't all fun and games though; that morning after he'd put Harmony to bed after not-so-bloody frozen yogurt, he'd snuck back through the sewers and woken Henry to have a look through the maps again, checking and rechecking the tunnel progress and the potential need to turn it around in the other sodding direction. Investigations of the maps and confirmed not long after above ground with judicious if dangerous use of the many covered walkways on campus, indicated there was a great sodding statue of an early benefactor in a smaller quad on the other side of campus.
Weeks of sodding labor down the tube, and by the shake of things best bet now was ring by Christmas, which was poetic in way if it wasn't for every day he was sure the Slayer was going to finally cotton on to something. Even considered sending a minion or two to spy on their little gang before figuring that was a surefire way to cock things up good and proper.
So instead here he was, pouring over maps with Stephen and Henry as Sunday's muscle moved bits and pieces hither and yon, Sunday herself tying up the newest unlucky freshman and giving Spike a glare fit to dust the band.
"Straight across from here," Stephen jabbed a finger on the map under the bare bulb swinging on its chain above them. "Got to cut across here though – watershed cuts through here, haven't got the equipment to dig through there and keep the tunnel open," he looped his finger around to the south. " Good ground here though, and no existing tunnel network to get in the way, if that's still an issue?" He looked up at Spike.
Spiked nodded. Bloody well was an issue. Was the issue, or at least one of the top five bouncing around inside his brain. Needed his own tunnel off the grid; wouldn't do to be down here and have a bunch of wannabe vamps show up and lead the Slayer to him, or for a sodding Fyarl demon to decide to nest.
"Right then. Well then that's the best way. And uh, well uh-"
Spike rolled his eyes. "Go on then, grab a bite." Stephen managed a nod before hulking off down towards the wiggling chained up coed. Bloody fledges.
"Anything to add," Spike turned to Henry, whose eyes were also glazed, staring hungrily on the hanging body. Old bugger had come back a lot more bloodthirsty than Spike would have assumed, to be honest. Stephen might survive a couple decades if he kept his head on straight and whoever took over as his boss after Spike left town wasn't a complete idiot; Henry on the other hand for all his love of being the town archivist when he was alive did his job grudgingly in death, and Spike figured the tosser wouldn't be able to resist going grrrrr first time he came across the Slayer and that would be that for dear old Henry.
Henry blinked up at him, in (as he always was) gameface. "Nothing that narrows it down – plenty of collapsed tombs and churches in the archives but nothing that I can pinpoint for sure." He gave a halfhearted shrug. "Could be."
"Yeah. Could be." Balls.
"Right everyone, listen up." Spike stood up, voice filling the cavern as the muscle turned to (mostly) pay attention. "Change of plans I'm afraid, dig's going other direction so you lot have a busy day ahead of you. Stephen here is gonna figure out where best place to dig is, so no slacking off. Know it's a pain in the ass," could hear the grumblings starting among those who didn't figure he could hear.
"And being the upstanding bloke that I am, and understanding that the lot of you would rather be upstairs making merry while the bloodbanks are getting ready for Christmas, than down here for a few more weeks, gonna up the cut of the treasure for the lot of you." Heads perked up at that.
"Will up it again if we have the gold by New Years, so no moaning, get working people." No need to tell them that he was gonna dust the lot of them when he had the gem; no need even saying the word 'gem' around this lot. Just some ambiguous treasure of 'demon gold' and let their greedy little imaginations keep them content from there.
He looked back down at the map. Wilkins Quad, X marks the spot, hopefully for good this time. Name rang a bell to be honest. Spike traced a finger on the map. Wasn't a total waste; reckoned they could salvage most of what they'd done so far in the digging, could start up again maybe back round the bend before they'd gone under the road, by the looks of it. Cut across like Stephen had said under the dining hall, and then under a row of sodding fraternity houses – Hutchinson, Barber, Lowell, and Spencer.
Stephen had made a sharp turn after that with pencil and then a great big circle where the Maths building butted up against the quad in question. Spike's fangs and fingers itched he could almost sodding taste it.
He looked up; ol' Henry hadn't even waited for permission, just gone to have a snack soon as Stephen had finished. He got up to slap the blighter up the head and get him back to his books; needed to keep this one around for another day or two, or even the bloody slayer would get wind of it the sudden rash of freshman 'withdrawals' and stick her nose where it wasn't bloody well wanted. Didn't help that even after nicking the gleaming bits and pieces Stephen said he needed, he'd still ended up with more minions to fetch and carry dirt and rock by the cartload than he'd planned for. Any more and this place really was going to be a sodding undead fraternity, and even the Slayer was likely to hear about that.
Sunday was looking fit to burst as well; she'd sussed out at last then that she was less princess of the banquet and more head maid of the servant quarters. Time where a mere pat on the head had clearly passed.
"Doin' good work, pet." He stalked up to her before she could get a bitchy word in edgewise. Made him look proactive not placating, because if she gave him lip in front of the minions he'd stake her then and there, even if she was useful to have around at the mo'. After giving her a tasty one over (and checking for a hidden weapon), he picked her up by the hips and twirled her around once, enjoying the look of sullenness give way to one of wary confusion. "Think the boys have everything they need pet, let me show you just how much I appreciate what you've been up to." He put her down and she pushed her hips against his. "There's a good girl."
Left the compound quite a bit later feeling a bit worse for the wear. Didn't have any problem shagging attractive birds, even if for most of the last century he'd only done so with Dru's expressed blessing. And Sunday was hardly a difficulty on the eyes. But he was a Master, and having to offer minions a shag to keep 'em in line was a ugly slope down towards the sort of dross that lived in suck houses. Was… degrading, was what it was, and not the fun kind of playing in the mud. Shouldn't have to resort to such to keep minions in line, simple as, but fuck if he knew what else to do with the way he had to keep the chips divvied up at the moment.
With Dru, even when she had been at her weakest, minions in Sunnydale had been terrified of her and that meant Spike had someone at his back; didn't have to worry about some minion coming on him with his back turned. With this lot it was one eye open all the bloody time, and Sunday would betray him given half a bloody chance unless she saw the chance to take another approach; so dangle another approach in front of the chit he would until the time came when she could be dust in the wind. Didn't mean he had to like that he had to do it, even if the job hadn't been half bad in and of itself.
Coming through the front door, on the other hand, was another sight entirely.
"Rough day, blondie bear?"
"Bloody hell."
Wasn't even the idiotic moniker that prompted it, but the bedroom. When he'd popped off, place had been threadbare, what with it being unoccupied by anyone which was the bleeding point of being here. Now, it was definitely not. Big frilly bed covered in some garishly pink quilt that made the motel they'd been at look the height of tasteful. Stake him where he stood, there was a silver heart in the middle of it made of some shiny synthetic fabric with a unicorn smack dab in the center. Six boxes stacked up in the corner too, and a freestanding wardrobe that he was absolutely certain hadn't been there this morning.
"What the hell is all this then," he growled, though came out a little less throaty and grrrrr than he'd have liked, what with him still being absolutely flummoxed by everything.
"I don't want to sleep on the floor," Harm whined, "Just because we're creatures of the night or whatever doesn't mean we have to live like some gross monsters. And anyway, you like a bed, too."
Spike very much did like a bed, true. His dark princess sprawled across silk sheets and preferably a big monstrosity of a headboard – give the place some ambiance and a delight to smash around in the midst of things. With proper posts that could take a chain or two. Some candles, well worn rugs – yeah, he liked a richness to his digs no question, not a wanker like Dracula who was all coffins and special dirt, but not like those fledges living in their own filth, neither. But this was a step and half too much.
"Where this all come from then?" He looked at the top box with the suspiciously shaped stuffed animals poking out, then back at the bed spread. "And Christ, sodden unicorns? Forget Big Bad for a tic, think even you might be a lil' past innocent bloody virgin at this point. Not exactly an atmosphere, is it?"
"Oh Please! Mr. Million Candles. Gees like you've never wanted to just, break into Yankee Candle and take anything you wanted!"
Spike had, in fact broken into a Yankee Candle during his time in New York in the 70s, and stolen half the bloody inventory. But that was beside the point, and Spike let out a long suffering sigh – bloody bint had visions of him making off with scented candles decades ago but needed mulligans on finding his sodding ring. A horrifying thought struck him like thunder; maybe unicorns were to Harm what dolls were to Dru – something to ground visions to the here and now. Was going to give him a bleeding aneurism.
"Nevermind pet, can keep your unicorns, no harm done I s'pose. Where'd you get this lot from though, we'll get you what you need but don't need you making a scene around town right now, can't risk the Slayer finding out, not now."
Harm scrunched her face at that, but seemed fairly well taken by Spike's change of mood to placating indulgence of her bits and bobs. "Oh, no I didn't steal anything. I mean I totally could and want to but I know the rules." Bint rolled her eyes at that. "But I've been gone for weeks now and my ATM card didn't work today – rude! – so I went home to let the parentals know I'm not dead or you know dead but not gone and so it's totally unfair to stop my allowance if I'm not allowed to just kill or whatever.
A pause at that. Not a short one either.
"You went home and told your parents you were a vampire?"
"Well yeah. Hellooooo needed an invite to get back in and I'm pretty sure you don't want them sending me back to school, what with Buffy being there and all."
"Oh, so Buffy's the reason you don't want to go to school." He shook his head. "Your schooling is last thing on my mind, not sure what of it even stuck."
"Well, if Buffy wasn't here I would totally go back. I could eat Mr. Mathews and I mean it's not like school's hard or anything and I was like the prettiest and most popular girl in school and ok I died at graduation last time but at least I graduated and ugh I just bet Aphrodesia is in charge now she's so nowhere near as pretty as me I only let her be my friend because her dad works for Prada."
"Right sounds lovely pet now what about the part where you told your parents you were a bleeding vampire."
Harmony rolled her eyes again. "We live in Sunnydale, they're not retarded. I mean ok they thought Gangs on PCP and not literal undead monsters but whatever same thing." She gave him a hundred watt smile like she's outdone Archimedes in his bath tub. "Don't worry Daddy promised not to say anything he's just going to open a new account in his name and give me the card, and I only brought like, one carload of stuff. The clothes you got me don't fit right at all.
That had been true, but Spike had found nothing wrong with the strain Harmony's tits did to Sunday's clothes.
"Aaaaaany way yeh so I just got a few things, I swear I'm totally done remaking this place for now."
He should, by rights, be miffed – should be more than that should be bloody well furious at the little chit, but one thing stayed his hand. As vain, narrow sighted, dozy, attention span of a mayfly trampy little trollup she might have been… given what very little he had to go on of her prevampire days, seemed like the difference between pre vamp Harm and post vamp was… not that much truth be told.
Doubted the girl had been offing her classmates, granted, but seemed she'd been putting them down in more psychological ways, best her flitty little brain could. Only vamp he could recollect with as much grey between the two parts was… well, himself. And Christ if bloody Harm was his mirror opposite might be time to let the Slayer stake him and be done with the mortal coil for good, but it did for the first time in a long time make him feel a little less… alone.
Fuck, did he need to get out of this sodding hellhole and back to Dru, daft thoughts popping in his head.
Eyed the bed one more time before picking up the quilt in two fingers, like it was washed in Holy Water. The Gem, think of the Gem. "S'pose this will do. For now. Bedsheet's a bedsheet." Least it was proper cotton by the feel, barring the monstrosity in the middle.
"Yay, thank you thank you thank you Spike." And wasn't she a pretty picture bouncing on the bed once before collapsing one it, limbs all starfished out and tits bouncing, pale globes teasing while her hair splayed across the pillow all nymphlike. Girl was asking to be shaken up a bit with a look like that, and by the little smile teasing at her lips the chit was well aware of it. With a growl he pounced down next to her, one hand sliding up her leg and probing gently, tickling her thigh then teasing her mons, enjoying the little coos she made as he did so, arch of her back raising off the bed ever so slightly. She curled into him, conveniently rolling her right tit into his free hand, and who was he to argue with that?
"Spike, oh um… Spiiiike," she whimpered as his finger traced her sticky lil slit. "I was wondering um, ohhhhh, um there's an end of year party at Lowell and I thought we could-"
"Knuckle deep in your quim Harm and you want to talk to me about sodding frat boys?" Spike asked, equal parts incredulous and annoyed. Harm pouted.
"Answer's no either way," he replied, rolling on his hips and swinging over Harm's legs to trap the bint beneath him, hand coming out from legs which were at least clearly thinking about only one thing even if the dozy chit was thinking about sodding college parties with what passed for her brain. He gave a show of licking his fingertips and the silly girl fell silent, eyes widening in delicious scandal. She squeaked when he lifted her skirt.
"And now if you don't mind, think that's the last bit of thinking I want you doing tonight, short of trying to figure out where the stars all of a sudden came from. No more unicorns, no more teen gossip, and no more frat wankers."
"Oh my god you are so full of – eeeeeeep"
He paused for a moment. Then slowly, he raised himself after another slow roll of his hips. Much better.