TITLE:
Darkest Before Dawn #13 "Skirmish"
AUTHOR:
Nmissi
PART: 13/?
DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing and No one. Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Anybody, just credit me and let me know where it's
going.
Feedback: Please. Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.
"Buffy?"
There was hurt and confusion in Angel's voice.
"What are you doing here?"
"We came here looking for you, Angel."
He eyed Spike warily, and the blonde nodded.
"Yeah, Peaches," he smiled cynically, "we did."
Buffy noticed the stiffness of Spike's posture, and winced. He was feeling threatened, and pretty soon Angel would be feeling all betrayed…
It boded badly for the rest of the evening.
Angel's eyes traveled over Buffy, taking in every detail. Her lovely hair, her sweet mouth..
When his eyes reached her neck, she remembered the bite mark and drew her breath in sharply. His mouth turned into a hard line and he looked over at Spike.
Spike was always very observant. He was aware the exact moment his Sire put two and two together and got 'lovebites'.
Oh, that's very helpful, thought Buffy. Spike's stance had shifted. He had stepped back into her personal space, as if to shield her from Angel's gaze. His body language implied everything she didn't really want Angel to know about.
"Oh, great. Listen, Guys- Can we Not Do This Here?"
Too late, she sighed, as she watched Spike's head roll back with Angel's punch. He recovered, and launched himself at his foe, tackling him backward into a table.
"Guys? Uh- Not a good time for this, really…"
She felt the urge to enter the fray, and took her nice coat off to protect it. Then she asked herself,
"Why should I?"
She really couldn't come up with a very good reason. No matter what they would claim, this was So Not About Her.
She shouted over at them.
"You know what? Go right ahead, spray the room down in testosterone. You two work it out."
She watched them struggle across the room, into the crowd. Angel flipped Spike over a chair. Spike picked it up and threw it at him. They came together again with fists flying, rolling into a pillar and dislodging the poster hanging on it.
"What a really ugly poster," she thought.
They butted heads, and rolled around a bit, each gaining and losing ground by turns. They seemed evenly matched in strength and fighting ability. But while they were pretty much beating the shit out of each other, no killing blows were being struck.
Neither one had even tried to fashion a makeshift stake.
To no one in particular, Buffy remarked.
"This really is none of my business."
She righted one of the chairs they'd knocked over, and sat down in it. Then, she dug through her purse and lit up a cigarette.
"Not my problem," she breathed, smoke swirling before her. She watched the crowd, moving apart, giving the brawl space.
Ooh, Goody…they were coming back this way again. She leaned back in her seat, smoking, and trying to decide how to score this spectacle. Angel had it all over Spike what with the tossing him around, knocking him into walls, she decided. But Spike got points for his creativity and ability to improvise. He moved like a dancer, slyly stepping out of his Sire's reach again and again. When Angel slammed him into furniture, Spike kept a hold of him and usually followed through with his feet, or his knees, or a handy piece of tableware. He was a master at incorporating environment into the combat.
They rolled up pretty much at her feet, Spike on the bottom, Angel looming above with his fist in the air. She put a booted foot down on Spike's chest, and gave them both a scathing glare, flicking her ash down upon them.
" Umm. Guys? Next time, let's do this with Mud or Jell-O."
There was a green skinned guy in a nice Armani suit headed this way, and he looked mad. On his heels were Wesley and a brawny black guy Spike reckoned was a bouncer. Then he turned his head at the sound of Buffy's voice, and was surprised to see her shoe on him.
Oh hell. She did not look happy.
And Angel was getting damned heavy.
"Peaches, you great tub of lard- get off of me."
He shoved impotently at the tree trunk of a chest before him.
"Off. Off. She's angry enough already."
Angel's rage was wearing off. Funny how a couple dozen really good blows to the head will do that, he reflected. His eyes fell back upon his errant boy, squirming underneath him. Blood trailed from his mouth and forehead. But his eyes glittered with an excitement that matched Angel's own. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed a fight this much.
He backed off of Spike, wiping the blood from his own mouth as he stood. Buffy rose, and finally Spike, getting slowly to his feet and warily taking in the scene.
"Damn. We messed the place up a bit."
He said this with a trace of pride, but Buffy glowered at him and his smile wilted. He found a nice spot on the bloody floor tile to contemplate soberly.
The green guy walked up to them.
"Is this the way you treat all your friends, Angel?" He was smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He sighed dramatically. "Or is this conduct reserved especially for me? If you objected to my decorating scheme so badly, you could have just written me a check."
His glance swept Spike, and he smiled more genuinely.
"I suppose you must be the favorite! The last time he had relatives in town, he set them on fire."
Spike scowled and spit blood on the floor.
"'E's no relation of mine."
The host eyed the bloody spittle, nose wrinkled.
"Well, he's handsome enough, I suppose, but really, Angel. In a centuries' time, did you never teach your children any manners?"
He glanced around the room, at the destruction; the customers huddled in the corners or fleeing out into the street.
"Then again, maybe he just takes after you."
Angel had the decency to look shamefaced.
"I'm sorry. And I'll cover all the damages for tonight, you have my word."
Buffy watched the green guy snigger.
"I think I'd really rather have your bankbook. But I suppose I'll have to take you at your word for now. Why don't you collect your friends and family members and take this little reunion somewhere else,"
He sighed glumly.
"Before you ruin the rest of my evening."
He tilted his head suddenly as if listening for something, and then very sadly, continued.
"Too late for that now, I see."
Gunfire rang out from four directions, and Buffy recognized the warm whizzing sound of a crossbow bolt. It buried itself low into Angel's left shoulder.
Several things happened then all at once.
People screamed. The host ducked to the floor, and went under a table. Buffy dropped beside Angel, and he tried to free himself from the protruding projectile. Spike grabbed them both, one with each hand, and dragged them out of the brightly lit center, into the darker corner of the bar.
"Angel? Angel?" Buffy's voice was frantic. He grabbed her hand with his and tried to reassure her.
Spike was casing the room, from behind the cover of an overgrown potted plant.
He hollered over his shoulder to them.
"There's what look to be policemen, and some guys in nice suits, with guns. And that black-haired chippie what brought the crossbow. Ah hell"- he broke off, and she saw him dash out from behind the plant.
Idiot vampire. What the hell did he think he was doing?
Oh.
He came back around, and with him was Wesley. Between them dangled a handsome young black man, bleeding from his neck and shoulders.
She crawled over to them on her hands and knees.
"Buffy!? What're you doing her?"
"Never mind that now." She put her hands on the injured man, helping to drag him over beside Angel.
"Gunshot in the neck, he can't talk, and he might be having difficulty breathing"-
Wesley was babbling. Irritated, the blonde vampire shoved him over at Angel.
"Get the bolt out. Where's the bint?"
"What?"
"The bint- Long legs, dark
hair- mightily annoying? Well you're here," he pointed at Wesley,
"He's here," with this he pointed at Angel. "Where is she?"
His mouth twisted into a smarmy smile.
"Or did I interrupt a romantic evening the pair o' you had planned just for yourselves?"
Wesley was staunching the blood over the wound, now, glaring at Spike before him.
"Gunn, Cordy, Angel, and I were waiting for a contact." Suddenly his face blanched.
"Dawn!"
Buffy looked up, terrified.
"What do you mean, 'Dawn'? Is she here? Is she with you?"
He nodded vigorously. Angel was coming back around, trying to sit up.
He saw Gunn beside him.
"Gunn?
Wesley, how bad is he?"
Buffy struggled to lay him
back down.
"Shut up."
Turning back to Wesley she continued.
"Where's my sister?"
"Bloody hell! What is she doing?"
Spike was gone again.
"Dawn was sitting with Cordelia when the fight began."
Buffy was torn. Her baby sister was out there, in that room somewhere, defenseless. All her instincts told her to move, to go find her and protect her. But the man she loved was splayed out in the floor beside her, bleeding. A few inches lower and he'd have been dusty. Part of her wanted to stay here and protect him, comfort him, cuddle him.
Wesley went into Watcher Mode.
"There are at least fifteen men. Humans, by the look of them. They have semi-automatic weapons. There's also a woman with them, but I didn't get much of a look at her. She's the one toting the 'bow."
He was digging into the pockets of his jackets, and her eyes widened as he thrust a gun at her.
" Nine millimeter browning high power. There's one in the chamber."
It felt huge in her hands.
Then it hit her. Spike. Spike was out there looking for Dawn. And his opponents were human; he couldn't hit them.
He was defenseless.
She kissed Angel on the top of the head, and crawled out into the room on her belly, the gun inside her waistband digging into her flesh.
There was still intermittent gunfire overhead, but most everyone had the same idea she did. She looked left to right, seeing humans and demons alike hiding under tables, behind chairs. She saw several wounded, and at least one body she didn't think would be getting up again.
Laughter above her.
"Don't think I got 'im. He's not in this bunch."
There was a man less than a foot away, turning over dead bodies.
Buffy dropped flat and held her breath, playing "Dead".
He moved on and she inhaled.
Slowly, she crept. The lights were back up, which made it that much more difficult
She'd reached the far side of the room now, and was losing hope. They could be anywhere. And the killers were still walking about, shooting whatever they saw move. But she'd seen nothing of the woman yet.
A foot sticking out from behind a speaker looked awfully, horribly familiar. It was wearing her shoes.
She crept over, and got a good look behind the speaker.
Dawn lay crumpled like a broken doll. Cordelia knelt beside her, bloody. Behind her knelt Spike, his hand over her mouth, as he hissed at her.
"Shut up! Shut up! Damnit, I'm here to HELP you!"
But she struggled against him with a strength born of terror. Buffy crawled to them, and felt for a pulse on Dawn. It was weak, thready. Her sister was pale, and there was a pool of blood spreading underneath her.
"Shot in the back, Slayer," said Spike, still holding Cordy.
"We have to get her out of here."
She put her face before the terrified brunette.
"Cordy, listen to me. You have to be very quiet. The killers are still out there."
The fear in Cordy's eyes told Buffy she was more worried about the killer back here.
"Spike's going to let go of you, and uncover your mouth. Don't make noise or you'll get us all killed."
She gave him a look and he did as she said, slowly.
Cordy pulled away from him as far as she could, whispering frantically to Buffy.
"Angel? Where's Angel? I saw them shoot him"-
"Ssh. He's okay, he's going to be okay."
Buffy stroked her friend's hair comfortingly.
"He's over by the bar with Wesley and your other friend."
Spike was turning her sister over, gently, examining the wound.
"Entry but no exit wound."
His face was hard, grim; his eyes wet with unshed tears.
He looked up at her, and his face softened, his voice became gentler.
"Buffy, we 'ave to get her to hospital."
He slid his arms under the child, and lifted her in them. Buffy met his eyes, and understood. She had to clear them a path, it was their only way out. She pulled the gun out of her clothes and saw the approval shine in Spike's eyes.
She had decent cover here. And it couldn't be that hard to hit a target this close. She only wished they'd line up together- She had one gun, and they had dozens, semi-automatics at that.
Vampires, Robots, Demonic Critters from Outer Space- She could handle those things. But for some reason armed human thugs scared the pee out of her.
Spike was speaking again, telling Cordy where the car was in the parking lot, but then he surprised Buffy.
"Here. Take the nibblet."
He took the gun and slid her unconscious sister into her arms.
"But-But… Spike, they're human."
His mouth twisted, and he looked uncomfortable.
"I know."
He slunk out into the room, and she watched him in horror and fascination.
He managed to get behind the nearest pair of men easily. They were engaged in a ghastly practice- staking the survivors. She puzzled as to why anyone would be staking humans- an impractical form of attack when they had the guns.
Spike twisted the neck of the taller man, catching his body as it fell. He relieved it of its automatic weapon, and fired Wesley's gun into the back of the other one's head. Then he turned, spraying the room in gunfire. Anyone standing was game.
They returned fire, but in a few minutes it was all over. They made there way across the room, calling to Wesley.
He was on a cell phone with the police, reporting the incident.
"Yes, "Caritas"…it's a private nightclub on"-
Cordy rushed over to Angel, who had recovered sufficiently enough to be carrying Gunn in his arms like a baby.
"How is he?" She traced her fingers across his dark forehead lovingly.
"He'll be better when they close up those holes in his trachea."
Spike joined them, studying Angel.
"You still unliving, then, eh Peaches?"
Angel smirked at him.
"If I didn't know better, boy, I'd think you were worried about me."
In the stress of the moment Spike lacked for a sufficiently snarky reply. He settled for a simple one.
"Sod off."
He turned back to Buffy, bringing up the rear with Dawn in her arms. There was blood all over her now, so much blood. Human blood. For all the irregularity of her origins, Dawn was human. And humans can die.
He reached for her, taking her from Buffy.
"We need to GO now, Slayer. She needs help."
Together the lot of them trouped out of the building, into the night. They were halfway to the car by the time they heard sirens.
"Should we wait for them?" asked Cordelia.
Buffy flashed on the paramedics in her living room; Smell of sweat, and chemicals, sound of their radio bleating.
"No. We'll take her in the car. Angel, can you get him in yours?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Spike was conferring with Wesley about directions, having laid Dawn out in the backseat.
"Right then. We'll meet you there."
He climbed into the car, and Buffy got in beside him. Cordelia looked between both vehicles, obviously torn, but then she got in the back with the unconscious girl.
Spike pushed the ancient car for all it was worth. Buffy noticed the needle hovering around eighty, but she said nothing. Instead she reached across the seat, and put her hand on his approvingly.
"We'll get there in time."
He looked back over at her, and hoped she was right.