TITLE: Darkest Before Dawn
#39 "Attack"
AUTHOR: Nmissi
PART: 39/?
RATING: R (for the series)
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.
"A little off the sides, too, please."
The man with the clippers snipped and sheared, and Spike
kept his eyes trained on the storefront across the street.
She'd been in there too long, already. A knot was growing
in his gut, larger every second that passed without her walking out the door of
the drugstore.
"There you go."
The barber swiveled the chair, and Spike took a look at
himself.
Dark blonde curls fell forward across his forehead. The
rest of his hair seemed lighter, sheared close against his scalp.
He looked more like William than he had in quite some
time.
"Thanks, mate."
He pressed a twenty into the old man's hand, and grabbed
his brown leather jacket off the coat rack. Then he hurried outside, and
crossed the street.
'She's probably just looking at magazines. She gets into
those teen things- Tiger beat, what all. Probly lost track o' time, that's
all."
He attempted to reassure himself with these thoughts as
he walked the aisles of the store.
She wasn't in the magazine aisle, however. Nor did he
find her in the hair care products. Or the makeup section.
He did each aisle twice, with no luck, encountering no
one else in the store.
He headed back to the front, looking for a cashier to
question, but there was no one at the front desk either.
Skin prickling, sweat broke out on his forehead. This was
not right, the building was too quiet….
He wished for a weapon. Damn, but he was going to have to
get a concealed carry permit.
'Think, mate. If you were the Nibblet, and something bad
went down in here, what would you do?'
She'd hide. She'd hide if she couldn't get out. She'd
hide and wait for him.
But where would she hide?
A whistling noise to his left alerted him, and he stepped
to the side just quickly enough to avoid the downstroke of a broadsword.
He took in the bloody chainmail before him with drowning
hopes.
"Eh, mate? I think you wandered out of your century." He
quipped.
The knight charged at him once more, and he moved away,
his eyes darting about. He needed a weapon. His hand raked the counter as he
moved, and he came up with a tester bottle of hairspray.
He sprayed it in the knight's face, and he staggered
back. Spike ran down aisle six.
"Nibblet! Nibblet where are you?"
He tore into the back of the building, and his gut roiled
at the carnage.
Apparently they'd slaughtered the customers. Four bodies,
in bits, littered the "Employees only" room. One of them still wore the smock
of an employee, and a nametag that said "I'm SARAH, welcome to Revco!" Two
other knights, equally bloody to the third, were wiping their swords on rags as
he entered. Two men in business suits raised guns at him.
"Sorry, mates, not my party." He said, backing out.
She wasn't among the bodies, he knew that. So she had to
be hiding, somewhere…
The men's room was to his right, the ladies room next to
it. He kicked the door open, listening
intently, and lamenting the loss of a vampire's sense of smell.
Nothing. He moved farther in, wary. Behind him he could
hear the knights, clanging chainmail in the hall.
He looked under the stall, and saw nothing there.
"Nibblet?" he whispered frantically.
"In here!" her whisper-hiss moved him to action. He
looked around, spying the metal grill of the air return vent. He ripped it out
of the wall, and shoved it through the large metal door handle, as a bar.
"That should slow them down."
Then he kicked open the stall door.
She was crouched on the toilet, her eyes wide in fear.
"Are they gone?" she whispered.
"No, baby. They're not."
He moved into the stall, and helped her down. Together
they stepped out, in time to see the metal grille bend.
They were coming through the door.
He looked around again. There had to be a way out.
The window was small, and old. It looked painted shut,
and it was too high in the wall. But it was all they had to go with.
He pulled the trashcan over underneath it, and stood on
top. Then he rammed his fist through the window as hard as he could, bloodying
his arm.
With careful hands he broke out the remaining glass, then
hopped down.
"Go on then. Out with you."
He helped her stand on the trashcan. She slipped, and her
foot went inside.
"Damn it!" she swore.
"Don't say things like that." His reaction was automatic,
his words thoughtless. She glared at him and he groaned.
"Bloody hell. Alright, say what you like."
She freed her foot, but she couldn't get through the
window. And the vent grille was nearly bent in half now.
"I'm not gonna fit!" she wailed.
His voice was desperate.
"Okay. New plan."
He helped her down, and together they ducked back into
the stall once more. He stood on the seat, and pulled her up alongside him.
His eyes met hers.
"Don't move. Don't breathe." He mouthed.
She nodded.
They heard the knights come in
Then mere seconds later, they heard.
"They're outside. They went out the window."
The metallic clangs let them know when their pursuers
left. Slowly they got back down.
"I think they went out. They're probably in the alley,
looking for us." He said.
She nodded.
Together they snuck back through the store, and carefully
exited the building. Then together they ran for the car.
They pulled down the street as the knights finally began
emerging from the alleyway.