Liquidram | "Xander, it really hurts," Anya whispered in an aside, still looking a little dazed from the hit she'd taken. "I'd like to go home now." She glanced at Willow, and back at Xander. "You can... just head home when..." Xander met Buffy's eyes over Anya's head, his gaze flickering from Willow, in Marcus' arms, and back to Anya. Willow had heard, and turned her head to look at Xander and Anya, wriggling slightly in Marcus' arms to be able to look at them. "It's just a sprain," Willow told them both. "Some ice, and a little foot-raising action, and I'm fine." Xander smiled wryly. "Ice would be good on that chin, too." Anya smiled gratefully and reached out for Xander's hand. He turned to follow her but couldn't help glancing back at Willow. It crossed his mind that he'd rather see Spike holding Willow, if he couldn't do it himself. As he shook that disconcerting thought out of his head, Tara called softly to him. "We'll call you first thing in the morning, compare injuries." Xander smiled at Tara, putting his arm around Anya's shoulder as the two began walking towards his apartment.Buffy scowled at Marcus, but moved aside. She followed Tara outside to the patio, her eyes never leaving Marcus' until the door closed between them. Buffy blinked, then shrugged. Spike and Xander fighting as a team. Giles rebuffing me. And now Tara standing up for Marcus. What a night. Buffy left the two and went inside. She left the door open. Inside the small apartment, Buffy poked her head around the bedroom door. "Hey there, what's with the going all sprainy on us? How's the ankle?"Willow looked up from the bed and made a face at Buffy. "I have ice. I have Advil. I have a big, smooshy pillow. And Giles and Marcus say it's not too purple-y, so I probably didn't sprain it too bad." Buffy sat gently on the edge of the bed. She took Willow's hand for a quick squeeze. "You really should be more careful, Will. We need you." Buffy looked fondly at her best friend, noting the raised foot and bag of ice. Changing gears, she turned. "Giles, could you join Tara? She's alone with that Marcus... and I don't know if I like that." Giles and Willow answered in unison: "She'll be fine." Buffy rolled her eyes. Score two for Giles and now Willow. Maybe he has them under a spell. If Spike starts speaking Chinese, I'm killing Marcus. |
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The house on Revello Drive was dark and silent. Spike tried the front door. Locked. Least Niblet shows some sense. Spike grinned evilly. The pick slid into his hand easily from an interior pocket in his duster. Prepared like a bloody Boy Scout. The lock gave quickly. Have to tell Harris to replace this with a better one. Not all beasties were of the magickal persuasion. Spike headed to Dawn's room. She wasn't there. So much for Niblet havin' sense. The room smelled of girly things like cologne and makeup. He inhaled deeply. Makeup? Spike spied a small, crumpled piece of brightly colored paper by the waste bin. Smoothing it open, he read it several times before it dawned on him. Stroking a hand over his rumpled hair, he grinned to himself. Well, Spike, looks like you're goin' to a party! |
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More stars were becoming visible as the lights around Sunnydale flickered off. The two figures on the patio behind the garden apartment had not moved for several minutes. Tara's whisper broke the silence. "You're a Slayer," she said, as she closed the sliding glass door. "No." Marcus was silent a bit, his eyes focused on the stars just visible behind heavy clouds. Then he smiled, his expression wry. "I don't know what I am." Tara smiled in return, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she stood by the door. "I-I-I want to thank you... for helping Willow." Marcus nodded, still silent. Tara shifted, and ducked her head, sighing quietly a few times as she tried to work through her nervousness. Finally she spoke again, and her voice sounded louder in the early night air than she had expected. "I'll listen, if you wanted to..." Her voice trailed off. After a long pause, Marcus seemed to remember his whereabouts, and looked at her. His gaze was intense, but she swallowed hard and stared back into his large gray eyes. "I mean, I won't run in and tell them everything unless you tell me something really horrible and dangerous." She paused, looking away from Marcus suddenly. "I d-d-do tell Willow everything, but she..." Marcus grinned unexpectedly. "I understand." Tara smiled in return, a winsome expression that caught Marcus off-guard. And here I thought, he marveled, I had it figured out who's powerful. This whole group is nothing but surprises. Tara sat down on the patio's cool cement and patted the ground for Marcus to join her. After a pause, he did so, tucking his legs under him to sit cross-legged beside her. His face was turned towards the sky. "Why..." Tara stumbled over the words, then ducked her head nervously and tried again. "Why don't you start at the beginning?" "The beginning, eh?" Marcus smiled sweetly at her. "In that case, my parents divorced when I was still very young..." Marcus paused, as if seeing something in the sky that demanded his attention. "Marcus, that's not the beginning I meant," Tara interjected boldly. He cocked his head at her, staring into her clear blue eyes. "No?" Tara smiled wanly and shook her head, then glanced over her shoulder at the door. "Do you want to talk, or wait for Buffy to get back? She's n-n-not always the most patient person," she added conspiratorially.He smiled at nothing in particular. "Where shall I begin, then?" he asked. Tara flushed, unable to tell if he was teasing or serious, but the streetlights on his profile made his face look gentle and... she paused, groping for the right word. Noble, she decided. "Who was attacking you?" she whispered. There was an even longer pause as Marcus chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip, his chin still tipped upwards. His brows were lowered, and Tara fiddled with the hem of her skirt while she waited quietly. "My cousin." "Oh." Tara nodded, then started as the phrase sank in. Glancing up to see Marcus watching her, she tried to wipe the surprise off her face. "Oh." Marcus' lips twisted, and he went back to watching the skyline. "I've little interest in their plans, and they aren't happy about it. They're fairly powerful sorcerers. After my father died..." "I'm sorry." Tara interrupted again.Marcus nodded, and studied the parking lot. His eyes were narrowed. He's keeping watch, she realized. "For so long..." he swallowed, and instinctively Tara reached out her hand and placed it over his. He didn't seem to notice as he continued. "There were certain kinds of people that would make my stomach churn until I was a good deal away from them... I was so naïve. I didn't believe vampires existed until I had to learn to stake them. They could sense what I was before I knew the truth myself."He was distantly aware that Tara's hand was gripping his tighter, and he swallowed hard. "When my father died," he whispered, "he left me his correspondence, and all his diaries... but I can't read any of them because -" He stopped speaking and glared at Tara; her grip on his hand was almost painful, it was so tight. His body stiffened, and his shoulders hunched, prepared to pull back. Tara flinched as she felt his anger and distrust not just of her, but of the situation he was faced with. She saw physical pain, but what moved her most was the emotional torment he was facing. He's more frightened, she realized, of revealing himself to me than he is of whatever's chasing him. Images were flashing through her head, and she knew they weren't from inside her. As her eyes grew wide, Marcus' mind slammed shut. Tara started, the intense reaction as real as though he'd actually slapped her."What do you really want?" he bit out at her as he threw off her hand. The sorrow that had momentarily escaped was replaced by bitterness fueled by rage, which he did not attempt to mask. He was on his feet instantly with a feline grace, his breathing fast, his pupils dilated. In the strange light from the streetlamps, his eyes were obsidian. "I'm s-sorry, you were so sad, I just w-wanted to..." Tara shrank back from him, her stuttering returning at his angry tone. Marcus started to speak, fury still coursing through his body, then abruptly turned his head away. She looked behind her to see Giles opening the door, and clumsily clambered to her feet, visibly pale as she ran past Giles into the apartment without looking back. Giles watched her, then studied the expressions playing across Marcus' suddenly vulnerable face. It's time I had another chat with him, Giles decided. |
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The steady bass beat could be heard outside the warehouse. Reluctantly Dawn trudged towards the entrance. Lisa, beside her, nudged her as they approached Kirstie standing outside with a group of friends. "Oh, great," Dawn breathed, and Lisa gave her a sideways grin. "Hey, Dawnie," called Kirstie. "Isn't it past your bed time? Won't your big sis find out?" "She's out, too," Dawn retorted. "She's patrollll... umm, she's working tonight." "Really? What corner?" Kirstie replied, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulders. Lisa rolled her eyes and Dawn giggled at her friend's reaction. "So, what's with the cute-girly look?" Kirstie taunted. "Don't you have any grown-up clothes?" Dawn gritted her teeth and ignored the comments. They had arrived late to the rave, and there was hardly a line. Quickly the girls were patted down, their tickets taken, and they walked through the open warehouse doors. The building was hot, damp and smoky, with bodies everywhere dancing franticly to the beat being dished out by the DJs. Raves were a rare thing in Sunnydale, since it was such a small town, but tonight was an exception. It was Dawn's first time at an event like this. Now she was beginning to ask herself why she was here in the first place. I just want a break, do something fun, she thought to herself, and sighed. Buffy goes to the Bronze, I should get a break, too. I need one. How could they really know what my life is like? To see the things I've seen, to know the things I know? I bet Kirstie would wet herself at the sight of a Ghora demon, she thought smugly, giggling at the visual of the school princess actually peeing her pants. Several of their other friends were already there, and had saved them a spot on a couch facing the dance floor. They surveyed the sea of bodies as Dawn took the chance to get used to the loud music. She started to relax, and was amused to see some of the kids dance with glow sticks. It was almost hypnotic. Lisa and the other girls soon got the courage to head to the dance floor. Despite her dance classes, Dawn was still convinced she had no rhythm, and wasn't going to make a total fool of herself. Instead, she stayed on the couch and continually asked herself why she was here. What's Buffy was going to do when she finds out about this? Finally satisfied that this was one of the dumbest things she'd done lately, she decided to head home and see if she could get back before Buffy was done patrolling. Then she won't find out. Pushing through the bodies, Dawn tried to find the exit. The beat emanating around the warehouse was starting to pound in her head. Grimacing, she knew needed to get out of the place. After several grueling minutes, she saw the front entrance to the warehouse. Pushing past the last few bodies, only a few feet from the door, she halted suddenly as she felt eyes on her. She turned slowly and scanned the crowd, hoping it wasn't something she'd have to tell Buffy about later. Down on the floor, a boy about her age was staring right up at her. He was sitting by himself, his knees to his chest, and staring straight at her, eyes fixed directly on hers. Dawn was starting to say something when darkness surrounded her and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Simon had done his share of warehouse raves, and was curious to see what a small town like this considered a rave, though he reminded himself that he should be finding a place to sleep for the night. The warehouse was on the far end of Sunnydale, and it hadn't been a short walk. There were kids his age outside the building talking and laughing with each other. Hiding in the shadows, Simon snuck past two bouncers and went through the large entrance to the warehouse. The beat was intense as he entered into the main area. This is crazy, he told himself for the fourth time. I'm not going to find out anything here... and I'll probably just end up bored from hearing last year's remixes. He surveyed the entire place, including the perimeter of the dance area. Finally, the smoke and the noise, together with his exhaustion, made him decide to sit down for a bit. His back against the wall, he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin on his knees and started to drift away. Jessie would've loved this, he thought. Wired, spunky, sexy Jessie. She'd been his first girlfriend. Not his first love, she'd been too hyper for that. She'd shown him things he blushed to think about now. Wonder what color her hair is now, he mused. He was lost in memories when the music stopped. Looking around, he realized everyone was frozen in place. Not far away stood a girl, staring directly at him, her long brown hair pouring over her shoulders. It was the same girl he'd seen this morning, whom he'd asked for directions to the library. The light dancing around her grew brighter until it was blinding him. An emotionless voice spoke inside his mind. Why are you here? It echoed in his head. "I hhhhave to find her," Simon stuttered, fearful. Silence shrouded him again, and he shifted uneasily on the floor. They'll use you, manipulate you for their needs, the voice said. It seemed to Simon that the voice had a touch of concern in it this time. "Who is using me? Who are you?" pleaded Simon. He looked around, and realized the music was still playing, and people were dancing as if nothing happened. Simon got up, worried as he realized the girl was lying unconscious in the doorway. Before he could reach her, a bleach-blond appeared out of nowhere, shoving dancers out of his way. The man leaned over, picked the girl up gently, and rapidly moved through the doors without looking to either side. Simon was frozen to his spot, his mind racing to make sense of what he'd seen. I want to go home, he thought. No matter where that is. |
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Giles coughed politely. He noticed Marcus was swaying slightly, but before Giles could react, the young man opened his eyes and placed a hand against the wall, turning to face Giles. "Sir," Marcus began, haltingly. "I have to leave." Giles was startled. "Ah, I'm afraid that's not a choice," he said as he removed his glasses slowly. Pulling out a handkerchief to wipe them, he continued, "Buffy has made it clear, and I agree with her, that-" "Every minute I stay, I put everyone here in danger." Marcus' voice was flat. "I see." Giles replaced the glasses and looked at Marcus again. The young man's jaw was set in an obstinate line, and Giles sighed. "However, I think you underestimate the -" "No, I think you have underestimated that which attacked us." Marcus' voice echoed on the patio. "And I can't rely on the witches to assist me a second time when one of them is injured." "Where do you plan to go," Giles finally replied, his voice pitched so low it was merely a breath. "Anywhere that a great many people have moved in and out recently." Marcus' voice turned sardonic in the darkness. "I believe Americans call it a hotel." Giles smiled despite himself, and nodded. "Ah, but..." Marcus caught his meaning before he completed the sentence, and nodded, his hands reaching up to his neck. "Mr. Giles, if I may have your handkerchief?" Surprised, Giles nodded, and handed it to the young man. Marcus took it, and slipped something from around his neck. "Sir, this was my mother's. I recommend you don't touch it directly, since I'm the only one who can do so without harm." He wrapped the pendant and its cord in the handkerchief tenderly, and handed the small bundle back to Giles. "It's..." Marcus' voice broke suddenly, and he exhaled hard before he could finish. "Between this, and what remains at your shop... You may consider these my collateral that I will return in the morning." Giles held the handkerchief gingerly in both hands, already feeling the warmth of a protection spell beginning to numb his fingers. "I understand, but I don't believe that..." his voice trailed off, and he glanced to the window where Buffy was inside, speaking with Tara. Marcus looked as well, and nodded. "It's a good thing they live on the first floor, eh?" he asked, laughing quietly. "Or I'd look like a bloody fool trying to jump off a third-floor balcony." Before Giles had finished chuckling, the young man was gone. |
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Suddenly anxious to read the letter Marcus had given him, Giles decided to stay for a moment on the patio. He took the cream-colored packet from his shirt pocket, turned it over, and rubbed a finger across his name on the envelope. After a moment, he tore open the seal. Removing the letter, Giles unfolded the single sheet and began to read: Rupert, Giles smiled faintly to himself. Always with the over-wrought language, he thought, when a simple 'please help my son' would have been sufficient. Re-reading the letter, Giles satisfied himself that it contained no hidden message. It was just what it appeared to be: a plea for help from beyond the grave. Ignoring the moisture that had welled up in them, he removed his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. |
| There was a hand in Dawn's. Cold, almost as cold as the ground on which she was lying. Somewhere close by, there was a distinct bump-bump-bump that Dawn realized meant they hadn't gone far from the warehouse rave. She lay with her eyes squeezed shut for a while, not daring to open them yet. He would understand. But he'd still tell Buffy. "I know you're awake, Little Bit." he said, softly. She blinked twice, grateful for the darkness that saved her aching head from any new pain. He looked at her, and did not release her hand. "You're lucky there aren't any bouncers in Sunnydale man enough to turn me away." "I know," she retorted hotly, and wrenched her hand out of his grasp. "Go ahead. I'm ready. Dawn screwed up." Buffy's self-righteous chiding rang out in her head. Spike sat on his heels and raised an eyebrow at her. Then he smiled. "You think I'm going to lecture you. You think," he sat back and gestured at the alleyway, "that Spike's going to sit you down and give you a good old-fashioned talking-to. That I'm going to warn you about things that go bump in the night." He brought his face close to hers and grinned. "Boo." Dawn giggled. "I knew it. You're not like everyone else..." "Very perceptive of you..." he coughed. "That's not what I meant and you know it. It's how you treat me." "Yes... well, how you treat someone's... very important." Spike cleared his throat. "You're not an idiot, Niblet, and you're not a puppy either. It's not my place to tell you sit and stay and mind you don't touch the hotplate." I've got lecturing of my own, coming from just sideways of a frontal lobe. "But what I will say is this. You've got people who'd bloody well die to protect you, girl. One of them did. And it'd make them, especially her, absolutely sick if anything happened to you while you were out with friends. Anyway," he said casually, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "bloody stupid way to go, Niblet. Unconscious, droolin' all over yourself..." "I never drool!" "Far be it from me to spread tales, but I saw you -" "I never drool! Besides... it isn't what you think. I brought my own water bottle, and I didn't touch any of that stuff." He shot her a look but read only honesty in her face. "Please," she sighed, exasperated. "Like I'd be that dumb." "I believe you, pet. So, you just get tired? You allergic to techno?" She squinted, trying to remember just what it was that she'd seen before the world went dark... "There was this boy..." she murmured, and Spike growled deep in his throat. She giggled again. When I start dating, I'm going to have to tell him from the other side of a fence. "Jump to conclusions much? I just saw this boy from across the room... didn't even talk to him, we just looked at each other, and - I don't remember anything after that." she bit her lip. "Spike... I think... he was looking for me. Or someone like me." "Don't get what you mean." "It was like he recognized something in my face... do I look like Buffy?" Her question hit Spike like cold water, and he rocked on his heels for a moment. "I... guess. Around the face. There, soft at that edge, straight here. Big eyes. Yes. Maybe." He smiled at her. "You glow from the inside, just like your sister." "Thank you." "So..." Spike cleared up the pictures already swirling in his mind, pictures of another girl smiling, but not at him. "You think this kid, whoever he was, might be looking for Buffy?" "Not sure why, but... yeah." Spike nodded, thinking about it, before he stood up again and offered her his arm. "I'll walk you home, young lady. We have some talking to do with big sis." "Spike..." Dawn groaned. "Save it, Bit." His white teeth flashed at her in the half-dark of the warehouse district alley, and she grinned back. "Let's go." |
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"Honey?" Tara lightly tapped on the door to their bedroom and then poked her head in. "Can I come in now?" Willow nodded. She was sitting up in bed, the bag of ice still balanced on her ankle. Buffy stood up and moved away from the bed so that Tara could take her place, trying to give them a little privacy. Tara gently stroked her hand across Willow's forehead, stopping to trace the arch of one delicate eyebrow with her fingertips. "I was so worried." Willow smiled reassuringly. "No worries." Tara looked doubtful. Willow spoke more earnestly. "Seriously, I promise. I'm strong." She raised her arm and curled it, pointing to her bicep. "Like Samson." She put her arm down and frowned. "Pre-Delilah Samson." She frowned more deeply. "Only not so hairy. Or testosterone-y." Tara giggled, leaned forward, and kissed the frown away. "Good." Her tone turned serious. "I'm really sorry I fell-" Giles stepped into the bedroom, interrupting Tara. "Marcus has left." They all stared at him. Buffy shook her head in frustration. "Wait a minute. Missed something here. When did that become our plan?" Giles sighed. "Well, Buffy, short of trussing him up on a chair, I couldn't very well compel him to stay." Buffy raised an eyebrow. "And that idea was bad because...?" Dryly, Giles responded, "We tried that with Spike and we have been unable to rid ourselves of him since." Buffy dropped her eyes. Giles continued amiably, "Marcus gave me his word that he'd be back tomorrow." Willow and Tara exchanged glances. Buffy laughed shortly. "He gave you his word? And we're trusting him now?" Mildly, Giles responded, "I'm not a complete fool, Buffy." She flushed slightly, and Giles continued, "Marcus offered sureties for his return. His father's papers... and this." He held out the pendant, safely nestled in the handkerchief. "What is it?" Tara asked. Giles moved closer to the bed so that they could all see it more clearly. "It appears to be some type of talisman enchanted with a fairly powerful protection spell. Marcus said his mother gave it to him." "Protection from what's chasing him?" Willow questioned. Giles shrugged. "Possibly. Or perhaps from more non-specific dangers." Buffy's voice was even. "So what happens when he takes it off?" Everyone was silent. |
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