Lady Starlight | "More salad, Simon?" Buffy held the bowl up. "No thanks, I'm full." Buffy put the bowl down beside her and mentally calculated how much he'd eaten. Yah, she thought, you must be full. Dawn was right, you haven't been eating well. Simon got up from the table and started collecting the dirty dishes. "Simon, no," Dawn protested. "You're the guest, you shouldn't have to help." "Try and stop me," he teased. "I'll wash, you dry – but first, I'll be back in a minute." He smiled at Dawn before heading up the stairs. Dawn used the closing of the bathroom door as an excuse to launch into a flurry of words. "Buffy, please can he stay here tonight? He's staying in a skanky motel, rats and everything, and I think he could use a good night's sleep, please, Buffy, I promise I won't do anything bad, we'll just watch movies or something, maybe have snacks later and I really like him so please can he?" "Breathe," Buffy ordered, then smiled. "He can stay, for tonight, anyway." Dawn bit her lip to keep from dancing in happiness right as Simon stepped into the kitchen. Dawn promptly blushed, opening her eyes wide at Buffy in nervous excitement. "Ok, if you guys finish clearing the table and wash everything, I'll dry," Buffy offered. Leaving them to the major clean-up, she wandered into the living room and sat down on the couch. She could hear splashing sounds and laughter coming from the kitchen. Just a little rest before I go out on patrol, she thought, and closed her eyes. About ten minutes later, she heard the creak of the hallway floorboard and was instantly attentive, but kept her eyes closed. "Is she asleep?" Simon's voice was quietly respectful. "Think so. Watch this." "Oh, I don't think you should..." Buffy's hand shot up and grabbed Dawn's wrist before she could drop the wet sponge on Buffy's face. "Do you really want to do this?" she asked in a deceptively mild-manned tone. "Or would you prefer being able to go outside by yourself for the foreseeable future?" "That last part sounds good." Dawn's voice was laced with laughter. Buffy opened her eyes and grinned at Dawn. "Thought so." She stood up, stretching. "Sit down, you two. My turn in the kitchen." |
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Simon shook his head. "Dinner was really great, but... it's almost nine. I should get going..." he let the sentence trail off. Not that he really wanted to leave, anyway. "Don't even look at my door," Buffy hollered from the kitchen. A cabinet door slammed shut for emphasis, and Dawn shot Simon a victorious look. "Told you so." He seemed for a moment ready to say something, but it just didn't come out. He gave Dawn a lopsided grin of his own. "Guess it's final, huh? I'll bet not many people can argue with her." "You think I'm tough, Dawn's got it down to an art." Buffy called from the other room. Dawn aimed a silent raspberry in her direction. "We have our moments," Dawn replied to Simon, recovering. "Wanna sit down?" she patted the seat beside her. "You're sleeping here tonight, might as well give it a preview sit first. Wouldn't want to rush into anything." "Oh, yeah." He raised an eyebrow in mock-seriousness. "Couches, they're tricky to pin down. But first impressions are usually accurate." He sat down next to her. "This couch in particular," he added, fixing his eyes on hers, "seems really nice." Dawn coughed, and flipped the channel. "So. You, uh, like peas? Cause you really wolfed 'em down." "Definitely. Peas could be their own food group." "Buffy's cooking is getting better. A lot better than..." she remembered Spike, in sadder times, swearing furiously at a box of Easy Mac. "A lot better than some other people's cooking." No reason to name names. "Something happened to her, didn't it? And you, too." He glanced around the room. "I've never seen anybody get so excited over making ravioli." "We're just really glad to be doing... normal... things again." He laughed. "Was that funny?" "No, it's just... you know what's really silly?" "What?" "Normal was the last thing I expected. I guess I half-expected there to be some kind of burst of light, or some danger that she'd swing me away from on a rope, or... you know, an explosion or something. Instead I get ravioli, and 'where do you go to school?' It's kind of..." "Disappointing?" she interjected. "I was going to say cool." He picked up a photo of the two of them together, at the beach. He knew without asking what it meant. Good memories. "I don't have anything like you two have. It's special, you know? I think I've been looking for that more than anything else." This reminded him of something, and he sniffed at his shirt cautiously. "Speaking of that," he said sheepishly, "I should be looking for a laundry machine right now." Dawn sighed, relieved. "I was afraid I'd have to tell you... oh. I didn't mean it that way." "It's okay. It's hard to keep clean when you're travelling. I'm lucky I got let in your house at all tonight." "If you need a change, I'm sure we can find something..." Buffy watched them go down to the basement, Simon hesitant as he followed Dawn, his backpack in hand. Kid's got 'shy' written across his forehead in indelible ink, but he and Dawn really seem to be hitting it off. She pictured him during the dinner, sneaking a fingertip-touch with Dawn as they passed the salad around. So much like Dawn, she mused. So very much like Dawn. |
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When Dawn returned, Buffy was waiting in the foyer. "You realize," she asked Dawn quietly, "that if Spike finds out - chip or no chip - there's not going to be much left of your boyfriend?" "He's not my boyfriend!" Dawn stopped, and gave her sister a bashful smile. "Yet." Buffy raised her eyebrows. "You promise that nothing, and I mean nothing, will happen?" Dawn flung herself on Buffy, squealing "Crossmyheartandhopetodie!" "Ooff! Back off, already." Dawn released Buffy from the hug. "You'll talk to Spike, right? Tell him no grrr." "No grrr." Buffy grabbed her jacket. "But he'll probably want to drill you in self-defense for the next couple of months. Don't eat all the ice cream before I get back, all right?" Dawn watched Buffy go out the door, then ran up the stairs to get sheets for the sofa bed. |
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Aeralyus had a pounding headache. Talia was asleep, finally, and he was restless. Tiptoeing from the room, he padded down the hall and out of the hotel. The night was warm and clear. Recalling the various hellmouth natives, Aeralyus cautiously sniffed the air and was surprised when he could only pick up a bare trace of his younger cousin. He had fully intended to honor his promise to give Marcus time to sort out his priorities by keeping Talia away, but he didn't count on the truce needing to last long. Nor, he reminded himself, did that mean that I won't keep tabs on the boy. The injury Aeralyus had inflicted, although painful, should have been a way to keep Marcus handy for easy retrieval when the time came. Aeralyus continued to cast about for a more recent energy trail. He entered a cluster of trees at the outskirts of a town cemetery, and shuddered abruptly. Here's a recent trail, he realized, but something wasn't right about it. It was Marcus' essence, and stronger, but it's somehow..... feminine. Aeralyus' defenses sprang to life. Moving swiftly through the trees, he was caught off-guard by the sudden appearance of a young woman a few feet to his left walking slowly, oblivious to her surroundings, and apparently in deep conversation with person or persons unknown.
Buffy raised her head and taking a quick glance
around. Did I do the right thing, Mom, "Do you mind?" This statement was punctuated by a flying roundhouse kick, knocking down one of the creatures that had been quietly stalking her. "I'm in the middle of thinking hard, and you're not making it any easier." She yanked something from the back pocket of her pants, made a stabbing motion, and the creature disappeared in a cloud of dust. She effortlessly spun around and quickly dispatched a second vampire before it knew what had hit it. Buffy flipped her old friend Mr. Pointy around in her hand and sheathed the stake back into her waistband smoothly. Aeralyus was impressed, and confused. A Slayer, covered with Marcus' scent. Things are getting more interesting by the minute. He followed her trail down the unfamiliar path.
The Slayer strode off, clearly preoccupied. And you should see Spike, she thought as she continued her silent letter to her mother. Mr. We've Gotta Do This and We've Gotta Tell Her That! I don't know what is worse. Sulky Love You Summers Spike or the new improved Mr. Reliable Guy. And I'm liking him around. I know, shocking you much? It's not so bad. He's crazy about Dawn, but not crazy, like before. The one hundred 'n twenty years of experience would be a plus if it wasn't a hundred 'n eighteen years of - There was a sudden strong crack, like a tree branch breaking, and Aeralyus realized suddenly that the woods had fallen completely silent. He couldn't hear the girl's footsteps in front of him, and the path was deserted. He felt a momentary pang at losing track of her when she stepped from the cover of the bush directly before him. "Hey, Stalky Boy. You're cute. New in town?" She was holding a solid looking staff, about five feet long. Its end was only an inch from his chest. Startled, he felt a grudging respect for her ability to surprise a seasoned hunter like himself. Keeping his voice level, and acutely aware of the weapon leveled at him, he said, "I'm only passing through." "Hunh." She didn't move. "Another Brit. Tourist season's over, Prince Charles." "I'm not leaving until I find Marcus." "A family reunion?" She opened her eyes wide, mocking him. "Where's your potato salad?" Aeralyus growled and knocked the staff away from his chest with his left hand. |
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The staff - now extending a third more distance than before - made a satisfying thwap sound as it cuffed Aeralyus' left cheek. Buffy gave a small snicker as the man jumped forward, shifting past the staff to retaliate with a swift punch. A short burst of pain radiated from her cheek, and she was back on guard. Aeralyus assumed she'd recoil from the attack, and went low in preparation. He brought his right foot out and around to sweep her off her feet, but she jumped to escape the sidesweep. As she jumped, she brought the staff overhead to crack onto his shoulder, sending him to his knees. She landed as Aeralyus sprang upwards, reaching with a far-flung backhand. She blocked the punch smoothly, and Aeralyus swung a second time. Buffy retreated another step and squatted low. He was still on his toes as her staff lanced out around the back of Aeralyus' leg, catching him behind his kneecap. Buffy pulled the staff upward and towards herself, pulling his leg out from under him. Aeralyus fell backwards. Buffy uncoiled herself and spun the bow over once as she brought it down again, hitting him in the chest, sending him to the ground. |
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"You're unclear on the concept." She hefted the staff with one hand before tightening her grip. "I've made it mine." She shifted her weight to her back leg, and Aeralyus read the signal clearly. He bowed, a curt formal nod, and stepped back a half-pace.
Xander spit blood out of his mouth and gingerly touched his lip just as Spike slammed the stake into the back of the vampire reaching for his throat. He coughed in the dust shower that followed. With a simple thanks, he accepted the hand offered and got to his feet. Exhausted, the two walked across the graveyard. Xander was about to comment on the sad state of the vampire population that night but choked back his words. Not more than sixty paces from them was Buffy - and she was holding a tree branch pointed at someone's chest. Xander couldn't be sure in the dark, but it seemed as though the stranger had bowed. The same peculiar little head-nod bow that Marcus gave us, he noted. Xander touched Spike lightly on the sleeve of his coat, put his fingers to his lips and pointed. Spike started to pull away despite Xander's warning, but halted, and Xander furrowed his brow at the vampire.
"Consider yourself warned, Slayer." Aeralyus relaxed, allowing the gradual shift to overcome him as he prepared to spring away from the Slayer. "Shelter the beast and you will die by the beast." All pretence of humanity vanished as his dark wolven shape flickered in front of her, then disappeared into the woods. Buffy rolled her eyes. "Why do you guys always have to get the last word?" Spike turned to Xander, a look of disbelief on his face. "Well, well." Spike regarded the pair, his brows furrowed. "I do believe one of Marcus's loving relatives has come calling." The two didn't move to intercept Buffy until she was almost upon them. She said nothing as they approached, and several moments passed in utter silence as the trio walked out of the graveyard. They had walked for sometime before Buffy threw the staff away and broke the silence. "I could have used the two of you a little earlier," she told them with no malice. "He looked human, but he was one of those things chasing Marcus. That was the one who hurt him. He could tell I know where Marcus is. How?" Spike shrugged. "Obviously he can track Marcus' scent. I was able to sense the blood last night and it led me straight to Giles' place." "What did he say?" Xander asked her. "The usual posturing. You're gonna lose, you've been warned, we'll meet again. Another graduate of the correspondence course for being a Bad Guy." They continued on their way, each wrapped in their own thoughts. At Giles' apartment, the door opened almost before Buffy had finished knocking. "Buffy." Giles had his coat on already. "Marcus is inside." "Good." She squared her shoulders. "It's time he and I had a little chat." "Yes, good idea," Giles demurred, then turned to Spike and Xander. "I think we could all stand some down time. You two up for tipping a few?" Both men nodded, and Giles smiled grimly. They began to tell him, in hushed whispers, of the latest events as they started for the local bar. Buffy let herself in. |
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Dawn lifted one end of the folded blanket to make the sofa bed, and Simon quickly reached over and grabbed an edge from the other side of the bed. A brief struggle ensued when Simon refused to let go of his half. "Let me" - she tugged her end - "have it," Dawn grunted, and tugged again. "It's my duty as your host to make you feel welcome!" Her words were punctuated with emphatic tugs on the blanket. Simon responded with some tugs of his own. "But I am helping," he teased. He pulled sharply at the blanket, and she hopped once towards the edge of the bed before digging her heels into the floor. Dawn yanked back with all her might, and Simon leaned back with equal force. Abruptly Dawn tilted her head and smiled as she let go. Simon went flying into a backwards half somersault and hit the floor with a dull thud. "I'm sorry," Dawn cried, raising her hand to cover her mouth as she giggled uncontrollably. "Are you okay?" "Yeah, yeah," he replied, pulling himself off the floor and rubbing the back of his head. Simon's hair was sticking up in the back, his face was flushed and his shirt was untucked on one side. The waistband of his boxer shorts was showing above the belt line of his jeans and it caught Dawn's wide-eyed gaze. She was still staring when Simon realized what she was looking at and tucked his shirt back in. "Ooh," Dawn breathed as she blushed, doing her best to cover her all too obvious interest in Simon's boxers. "You think you'd never seen underwear before," Simon shook his head. "Oh, I've seen a lot of things," Dawn said in her best attempt to affect an older, more Buffy-like, attitude. "Oh, yeah? Like what?" Simon was skeptical. "Oh... just things," she replied, wriggling her eyebrows at him knowingly. "Yeah, I could tell from the first time I saw you that you were a real woman of the world," Simon said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "I am," Dawn insisted. "I saw Kids." "Really," Simon was unimpressed, unconvinced, and looking at her doubtfully from the corner of his eyes. "Well no, not actually." Dawn backed down, but only a little bit. "My friends told me about it...so I know stuff." Her voice trailed off, and there was a moment of silence as she stared at Simon across the bed, absorbed in thinking how cute he had looked, so disheveled, a moment before. Simon broke the silence. "Well, if it's okay with you, I'm gonna finish making the bed and lapse into a very welcome state of unconsciousness." Dawn didn't move, lost in her previous thoughts. "Unless you would like to see more of my boxers..." Simon waggled his hips in a jokingly suave manner. "Yeah. I mean – no." Dawn giggled, snapping out of her day dreamy daze and half-skipped towards the hallway. She paused in the doorway. "If you need anything," and she motioned to the stairs, "I'm right up there." As she disappeared up the dark stairwell, he heard her giggle and whisper a giddy goodnight. Simon finished making his bed, removed his shirt, jeans and socks and fell backwards onto the mattress. |
| The living room was empty, but Buffy could hear running water in the bathroom. Leaning against the table, she folded her arms and waited. A minute went by, and Marcus didn't appear. She paced around the table, then around the sofa, and back around the table. The water was still running. He's as bad as Dawn. She made a face, exasperated, trotting across the living room to tap smartly on the bathroom door. "You in there?" she hollered. Ok, that was a stupid question, she thought. "Yeah." The water shut off. Buffy could hear something rustling. "You okay?" "Fine," Marcus replied as he opened the bathroom door. The hair around his face was damp, and his shirt clung to him as if he'd dressed without drying off completely. He wiped his face with a towel and hung it over the bar before stepping into the hallway. "That bloody oil was driving me nuts." Buffy found herself smiling as she looked up at him, her hands on her hips. Startled, she realized he wasn't much taller than Xander or Giles. Marcus gazed back at her, and then glanced past her to the living room. "Giles left already?" Buffy nodded, and didn't move. "Is it my turn to ask if you're okay?" Marcus peered at her, one eyebrow cocked. His gaze flickered quickly to the bruise on her cheek, already fading. "Hunh?" "You look... unsettled." "I am, I mean, I do?" Buffy shook herself a little, then frowned. Her skin was crawling from the energy emanating from him. She wondered idly, if I touch him will I get shocked from the static electricity? The Slayer still hadn't moved, and Marcus wasn't sure he wanted to shove past her to get to the living room. He inhaled, and abruptly froze, then purposefully leaned towards her and inhaled again. That scent... Buffy noticed the almost imperceptible change in his face, and stiffened. Two guys sniffing me in one night, she thought. I'm officially creeped. "My cousin," Marcus said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've been with him." "With him?" Buffy stepped back, caught off-guard. "Well," she added self-consciously, "not in the biblical sense." Marcus shot her a surprised look. "Uh," she tried again, "yeah. I mean, no. I mean, that's what I want to talk to you about." God, I must sound like a total imbecile. "Shall we sit?" Marcus pointedly looked past her to the sofa. Buffy realized she'd been blocking him in the hallway for several minutes, and backed up, frowning to cover her embarrassment. Instead of following her to the sofa, however, he headed into the kitchen. "Would you like some tea," he called to her. "Please," she answered, and seated herself in the wingback chair to watch him as he set up the kettle to boil and got out the mugs. She'd spent the day avoiding him, she knew, and she wondered why it didn't seem to bother him. Then again, it's not like he's had the best day, she thought. She perched on the edge of the chair and watched his graceful, efficient moves. It's like he's absorbed everything, knows where everything is, and he's only been here... it was then that she become conscious of the fact that she'd not seen Marcus show any sign of pain. Pursing her lips, she watched for a few more seconds before deciding it was true. Either he's covering better... or it doesn't hurt anymore, she reflected. He returned to the living room, bringing a tray with him. "Cookies, too?" Buffy noticed the plate and nearly clapped her hands before remembering this wasn't Giles. Marcus smiled and handed her a mug. "Reminds me of university," he explained, sinking his lean frame onto the sofa. He stretched his legs out under the coffee table and crossed his ankles as she fixed her tea to her liking and took a cookie. "You're..." Buffy searched for the right words. "You're feeling better?" She glanced at his chest. "Mm-hm," he replied, sipping his tea. "So you got speedy Slayer healing, too." Marcus raised his eyebrows at her over the cup's rim. When he lowered the mug, his expression was confused. "Speedy what?" "Slayer healing. Part of the package. Reflexes, vamp-radar, speedy healing." He shook his head. "Nope, no Slayer healing. This was... this didn't have anything to do with that." "It didn't?" "No." He leaned forward and placed the cup on the table, and sat back again, his hands relaxed in his lap as he smiled lazily at her. "It's the demon part. And water." "Water?" Buffy narrowed her eyes. "That's right. It's a way of using water as a healing agent." "Oh." Marcus poured himself another cup of tea as she got up and began pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table while she thought. Marcus watched her silently. Finally she turned, her hands on her hips as she regarded him. "Your cousin likes a fight," she said. "But he's not very original. The usual big bad talk. The only thing he left out was the maniacal laughter." Marcus smirked. "He's an arrogant bastard. I worshipped him for years as my hero, before I realized he's -" Marcus made a rueful face and shrugged. Buffy found herself smiling wryly back at him, and returned to her original seat, picking up a cookie. "He's hard to beat," Marcus continued, "and I never managed it. He's got more than a few years on me." "How many?" Buffy was surprised. The man hadn't looked but a few years older than Marcus. "He's fifty-three." Buffy nearly dropped the cookie. "He's what?" she finally choked out. Marcus' grin creased his eyes at her shock. "Yeah. I told you, the demon part lives a long time. My mother was forty-nine when I was born, and she married young. More demon, longer life, but less endurance. More human, shorter life, fewer demon abilities." "Hunh," she said, and bit down on her cookie. Swallowing, she continued, "looks like the gang's decided to help you. I don't know the magickal part of it, but I do know that no one's found any references to these March ghouls." "Marculs," he corrected her, but without offense. She made a face at him and grabbed another cookie. "Marculs, okay," she replied. "Any idea what your family's plans are, next? We know that..." Buffy's voice trailed off as she realized Marcus' smile had disappeared. He bit his lip, and flicked his gaze to her, staring for a few moments so intently that she almost shrank back. His gray eyes bored into her, his blank expression scaring more than she was willing to admit. "Not much choice, either way," he finally said, and shrugged. "If I finish the transformation, I probably won't survive the ritual after everything... I've been through already, according to what we found today. If Giles and your friends can figure out the reversal, we can try it. But there's a good chance I won't survive that, either." "A good chance?" "If you count 'pretty certain' as a good chance." "I see." Buffy stared at her cookie for a second before biting into it again. "Given the choice, I'd rather live. The only way to do that, though, is to find a way that I don't have to do either ritual. But that means being a walking target... I'm not sure if my selfish wish to live is reason enough to keep the Slayer's line in danger." Buffy nodded. Marcus glanced at her, surprised to see her eyes sad as she watched him. He gave her a quizzical look, and smiled to break the mood. "There is one thing, we could do, if you wanted." "What's that?" "Fight." "Do what?" "You want to know how to beat my cousins? I can show you. Fight me." Buffy raised her eyebrows, skeptical. Marcus put down his cup, and stood. She sat, reveling in his lithe feline grace, completely forgetting herself. One eyebrow cocked, he smiled down at her, then reached down and took her by the hand. Buffy's head spun. The power suddenly flooding her system was almost unbearable, and she felt like a hundred needles were dancing on her skin, each one on fire. Then she was standing, and Marcus had let go of her hand, to look at her closely. His face was flushed and his pupils were dilated to the point that she could only see the faintest hint of gray at the edges. "This is yours," he whispered. "I never knew, I never thought to ask. But now I know, I can't go back. This energy, this should have been yours. Yours and all the other Slayers." "It's mine already," she replied softly. He caught her meaning before she even recognized it herself. "The other Slayers," he added gently. She thought of the others she'd known, for a second. She closed her eyes against the memories, and braced herself. Opening her eyes, Buffy looked up at Marcus. "Okay, then, we fight. Come with me, we'll go to the training room." "The training room?" Marcus glanced around the apartment, surprised, and she grinned. "At the Magic Box. We won't be interrupted, and we won't risk breaking Giles' stuff." "His stuff?" Marcus snorted. "You sure he wouldn't be more upset about his books being touched?" Buffy grinned. "Yeah. He would." |
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