Purplegrrl | The waitress plunked a pitcher of beer on the table, along with three glasses that didn't appear to have seen a real dishwasher in some time. Frowning slightly at the glass, Giles poured the chilled beer and handed the glasses around. "Maybe we should get something to munch on," Spike suggested. "I'm feeling a bit peckish." Xander scooted his chair a tiny bit closer to Giles before replying, "You buying, Peroxide Boy?" Spike gave the two men his best wounded look. "It's not like I've got a bleedin' job." "Hey," Xander started. Giles held up a hand to stave off the inevitable bickering. "Xander, why don't you go and order something. We'll split the tab when it comes. Three ways." Spike opened his mouth to protest. And shut it again when Giles fixed him with a glare. "Right," replied Xander as he headed over to the bar to place their order. "How do you figure on reversing the transference rituals?" Spike asked the ex-Watcher as soon as Xander was out of earshot. "I've developed a theory. I think if we use the opposing herbs and symbols, invert the incantations, and so forth, we could reverse the transference and return the energy to the Slayer line. With Willow and Tara's help, of course." "You think it could work?" retorted Spike incredulously. He shook his head and continued in a more subdued, but equally urgent tone. "What is all this going to do to the Slayer? She's been through enough..." Giles stared at the blonde vampire. Despite his bluster and swagger, despite his unorthodox way of showing his obsession-cum-affection, Spike truly cared for Buffy. Not that Giles would ever admit to the Slayer - or her vampire defender - that he recognized this. "Buffy will be fine," Giles reassured him. "Marcus' family was subverting the energy that calls the next Slayer, not Buffy's energy." Spike tried to keep the relief from showing in his face, but he wasn't completely successful. "Not much of a menu, so I ordered ultimate nachos," Xander announced as he slouched into his chair and took a sip of his beer. Spike poured himself another beer. "That's fine, Xander," Giles said automatically. "So, do you think we can keep Marcus' cousins from completing the ritual with him?" asked Xander, unknowingly echoing Spike's question. "Giles has a theory," the vampire told him, a little sadly. The former Watcher let Spike's honest tone pass without comment. They were all tired, and worried. Even though he had assured Spike that Buffy was in no danger, even if the transference ritual was completed, Giles had a niggling doubt. What if there was a danger to Buffy? What if she died... again? He shuddered as he took a long swallow of beer. "I do think we can reverse the rituals, thereby negating any claim the Marcul clan has on Marcus," Giles answered finally. "One thing is for sure. We can't allow Marcus' cousins to get hold of him again. If they succeed in binding the Slayer energy to Marcus, then Buffy and Faith could very well be the last Slayers the world will ever know." While the three of them were mulling over this disturbing thought, the waitress brought their platter of nachos. Spike didn't complain as he bit into a nacho, his face as forlorn and pensive as the two with him. |
| Buffy unlocked the door and reached around to click on the lights, letting Marcus enter first. She heard him whistle as he looked around at the training space, and she allowed herself a small smile of pride. She turned to see him standing in the middle, regarding the wide space as he removed his jacket. Catching her look, he nodded at her before bending down to untie his bootlaces and strip off his socks. "This'll do," he said. "One thing, though." "What's that?" She took off her jacket it and hung it on a back peg, taking a hair band out of the pocket and pulling back her hair. Crouching, she began untying her shoelaces. "Gotcha. No breakage for me, either, while we're discussing it." He nodded, and she noticed him relax his posture slightly, shifting his weight. His arms hung loosely. She stepped forward to face him from about five feet away. He studied her for a second, and then narrowed his eyes. "When you fought my cousin, was he alone?" Buffy rolled her eyes. "Yeah. He talked big enough for two, but there was just one of him." "Talia must still be recovering," Marcus muttered, half to himself. Buffy gave him a quizzical look. "Talia and Aeralyus are my cousins. They usually hunt as a pair. If you only saw Ari, the shove was stronger than I realized." "Shove?" "Yesterday." Marcus gave her an innocent smile. "That magickal shove hit my cousins full-on." "Nifty how that worked out." Buffy grinned back, and shifted her weight. "One other thing: how did he... appear?" "Appear?" Buffy furrowed her brows. "Like, uh, a guy who's fighting." "Human, you mean?" "Yeah. Two legs, two arms, the usual." Buffy pivoted slightly to keep Marcus in sight as he slowly circled her. "Perfect. The idiot underestimated you." Marcus grinned wickedly. "What do you mean?" "He's used to wrestling me. We did that a lot when I was younger, so he's probably figuring your strength and mine should be equal." Marcus' left fist shot out suddenly in a backhand punch and Buffy easily blocked it. "You think we're not." Buffy countered with an undercut jab and Marcus stopped the move without looking away from her face. "I don't know yet." Marcus twisted his weight to his back leg, bringing his right fist up as he punched with the left, ducking at the last second to catch Buffy in the stomach. She jumped back just in time, and Marcus grinned wickedly as he rose back to his full height. "We'll see." |
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Buffy attacked slowly, throwing an easy to block punch towards Marcus's kidney, having to duck low to do so. He saw the attack as she wanted him to, slow and easy to block. His left arm shot out, parrying hers away, the force sending her lightly to one side. She smiled at him as he took the bait. "You're as predictable as your cousin." She placed the parried hand firmly on the ground supporting herself. Leaning heavily on the arm in a half handstand, she brought both feet up to kick him in the chest. He just barely caught one foot. The other slammed heavily into his chin, a brief moment of white pain shooting through his head. His head snapped back forward, and he grinned. "Nice," he said with a chuckle. Rotating his wrist and the foot he still held, he twisted her off balance. A light flick of his wrist sent her feet over her head, the handstand now reversed into a flip. Landing roughly on the ground, Buffy had no time to dodge his attack, frozen in expectation. His hand came down, punching her in the stomach. The wind knocked out of her, Buffy forced herself to her feet as Marcus backed away. She hid her discomfort in a defensive stance. "Are we even?" Marcus smiled smugly |
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"Oh, sh-!" The end of his expletive was lost in the exhalation as he hit the floor, hard. He shook his head to clear the spots from his vision and found himself looking up into her face. She was straddling his chest. He instinctively put his hands on her calves, braced. "You tell me," she said. "Well," he said sheepishly, "you certainly can handle Ari's style. He's a bit of a boxer." "Are you okay? You seem a little out of breath." Buffy's face registered concern. "Oh. Sorry." Buffy started to rise, and Marcus kicked himself into a sitting position, knocking her backwards. "Hey!" Buffy's voice was indignant. He shrugged. "Talia's sneakier." They both scrambled to their feet, warily staring at each other. "Sneakier, huh?" Buffy aimed a roundhouse at his head. This time, instead of blocking it, he leaned back slightly, avoiding the blow, and grabbed her wrist as it passed. He pulled her forward, adding to her own momentum, and sent a vicious kick into her side. "Yeah." Buffy rolled with the force of his kick, came to her feet and turned, expecting him to press his advantage. Sure enough, he moved in close, wrapping his leg around hers and his arm around her midriff. Marcus shifted his weight, getting it low enough to throw her to the ground. Buffy grabbed his wrist and twisted it backwards, turning his arm up behind his back. He barely managed to bite back a yelp of pain before she'd set her heel into his instep. She pulled him across her body, dropping him yet again to the floor. He started to rise, and she kicked him in the belly, sending him spinning onto his back. "I can be sneaky, too." "Thanks," she replied. I think I kicked him a little too hard that last time. "I didn't break anything, did I?" She kneeled down by him, feeling along his ribs. "Coz we did say we wouldn't." He winced at her touch. "No, I don't think there's anything broken. I'd definitely wager on bruised, though." He sat up. "Now, I know I didn't hurt you much," he said, smiling, their faces close together. "No. Well, maybe some." She rubbed her ribs where he'd kicked her. "Surprised me, a little, though." "Yeah, my family's full of those. Surprises, I mean." "Yeah." Buffy withdrew, suddenly shy. "Thirsty?" |
| Giles had returned from the bar to discover Marcus' jacket was gone, and Buffy had left a scrawled note sitting on top of a stack of books on the kitchen pass-through. Rubbing his eyes as he read it a second time, he wondered vaguely what had possessed the two young people to head to the Magic Box. Buffy hadn't included too many details, but he figured he could guess they were sparring. Sighing, he put down the note and made himself a cup of tea. Settling comfortably in the easy chair, he pondered for a few minutes before realizing he wasn't nearly as tired as he'd first thought. His brain was spinning in too many circles, with the final ritual nearly translated. Finally, he got up and crossed to the table where his notes were spread out. Get back to work, he told himself, and finish this. Then I'll sleep.
Slowly Marcus stood up. Buffy stepped back to give he room as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. He grinned at her. "You were holding back," he stated. Buffy shot him a disgruntled look and he shrugged. "I was." Buffy started to frown, then grinned, recognizing herself in that statement. "Okay, yeah, a bit." "Alright, then." He put his hands to his jaw, expertly feeling along the jaw line before stretching his neck. "So, how many bruises have I got?" She regarded him carefully. "Not many. Yet." "Yet." He laughed. Buffy trotted across the training room, pulling off her shirt to reveal a tank-top underneath. Bending down, she pulled a water bottle out of a small refrigerator and drank nearly half of it in one gulp before handing it to Marcus. He accepted it with a grateful look and finished the rest of it. "Gets hot in here," she finally said, when he lowered the empty bottle. Marcus nodded and ran a hand through his hair, managing to only make it stand out in even more tangled strands against his face. He glanced down at her tank top as he gave her back the jug, and raised an eyebrow. "Modest?" "Me?" He nodded, and she shrugged, uncertain. Marcus pursed his lips, then shrugged, undoing the top three buttons on his shirt before stripping it off and tossing it on the sofa. Buffy took the chance to cover her blush by busying herself with placing the empty bottle carefully on the floor. Breathe, she reminded herself. It's not like you've not seen a guy before... and then she stood up and looked. Marcus had walked back to the middle of the floor, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets as he waited. He didn't turn around when she gasped audibly. "Yeah," he simply said. It was another second before she found her voice. "Your back -" "That's the rituals." She stared openly, realizing that he was letting her see, so she'd understand. His back and arms were covered with thin white lines, a series of whiplash thin slices in criss-crossing lines; an endless diamond pattern. When he turned, slowly, his eyes were unfocused, large and vulnerable. She met his eyes with her own, wide and green, equally uncertain. He looked away, waiting, as she let her eyes follow the line of his jaw, down to the hollow of his collarbone, the strong lines of his wide shoulders... and the broad fresh scars from the previous night's attack. Still angry against his skin, the four distinct lines were already whitening into narrow traces across his lean chest, ending just about his jeans. His body was sinewy, not muscular like her former loves, but still muscular in a lean, potent way. She swallowed hard. "Those scars..." Buffy's voice trailed off, and she squinted, trying again. "Those scars on your back, are they..." Marcus nodded. "Same kind of injury." "But not -" "No," he said. "Those are all from my..." and realized he couldn't say it. He closed his eyes. She noticed his toes curling against the wooden floor. "They're from the rituals," he repeated. "Oh," Buffy whispered. Stepping forward, her foot hit the jug and it flew across the floor, rattling to a stop in the opposite corner. Both she and Marcus jumped, surprised, and Buffy shrugged helplessly. "I don't know my own strength against Tupperware," she cracked. Marcus chuckled, and she responded by grinning widely. Reaching out a hand, he beckoned her close. "Ok, now you know the damage my clan can do." He held his hand out, motioning her to stop. Keeping his hand out, he stepped forward a pace until his outstretched hand was only inches from her shoulder. "Now I'll show you how." Buffy nodded, and remained still. After a second, she felt something pressing lightly on her collarbone. Electricity shot through her system, and every nerve tingled from his touch. Startled, she glanced down only to see Marcus' fingers still inches from her. She tried to focus, blinking. "I don't see anything, but I can feel-" "You sure?" he prompted. She looked again, carefully, letting her eyes unfocus. Then she saw them: five talons, stretching from Marcus' fingertips and resting gently on her skin. They shimmered, barely visible if she didn't look at them directly. Buffy jumped back, her eyes wide as she stared at Marcus. He shrugged and pulled his hand back, staring at it for a moment before letting it fall. "My clan has a joke that only dead people can see 'em." He held up his hand again, and Buffy saw the flicker of light around the edges of the claws. They extended about three inches past his fingertips, an ivory like slender horns of a mythical beast. "Most victims are dead before they even realize they've been struck." He let his hand fall, and shrugged. A satisfied smile played around the corner of his mouth for a moment. "The other night," Buffy started, confused. Hesitating a moment, she tried again at putting her memory into words. "You decapitated that vampire as I was about to dust him." "Well, sort of." Marcus smiled. "We pretty much got him at the same moment." "You used those claws of yours?" Buffy was impressed, and took another look at his hands. "These?" Marcus wriggled his fingers at her, and chuckled, shaking his head. "Not unless I wanted to be there all night. Using these to cut like that would be like slicing meat with a razor blade." "Hunh?" "They're not hacksaws, they're knives... or just extremely sharp fingernails, one might say." He cocked his head at her, running his eyes down her body for a second before meeting her eyes. She was still looking at his hands. "So how do you like, dial a phone, or write, and stuff?" It was Marcus' turn to look blank, until he realized what she was asking. "Oh, no," he said, chuckling. "They're like cat claws. They retract. They're for defense, not offense, though we've learned to use them that way. We don't develop them until adolescence..." For a moment, he was pensive, remembering the Rite at age thirteen when he entered the Marcul community. He stared at his hands for a second before looking back at Buffy. "Anyway," he continued, as if remembering the reason for being where he was. "It's rare that the Marcul will shift completely at any point during a fight." Buffy raised her eyebrows, waiting. "That's when we're vulnerable," he explained, and took a step back from her. I have to trust her if I'm going to get her help, he reminded himself silently. He exhaled, and his muscles relaxed subtly, his eyes focusing inward. As she watched, wide-eyed, he shifted suddenly, his form glimmering slightly as she became aware of a large wolven shape before her. It seemed to gleam dully, the size of a large man bent over, or an Irish wolfhound. If Irish wolfhounds were like... lizards, she thought, for some reason finding it funny. The creature's eyes were obsidian, and its long tail resembled nothing so much as a komodo dragon's, squat and powerful. Its legs were also thicker than a wolf's, with long talons barely visible beneath the thick fur. The ears were flat against the head, pressed back as the creature opened its mouth at her, revealing a double row of incisors. Buffy took a step back, drawing in her breath as she prepared to defend herself. The creature – Marcus, it's Marcus, she reminded herself – flicked its ears forward, and she realized its neck was covered with a ruff of fur, running in dark gray ripples down its back to the base of the spine, where the scaled tail began. Its underside was a cobra's pattern of black and gray, and its nails clicked on the wooden floor as it pivoted in place, turning for her to observe its movements. She noticed muscles moving under its fur as it turned again. The creature flickered once more, and Marcus was crouching on the floor, his hands splayed as he tried to catch his breath. She stepped forward instinctively, to help, and wavered. Marcus looked up and saw her hesitation. "I know," he managed to choke out. "It's a bit unsettling." He sat back on his haunches and smiled up at her. "It's also exhausting, holding it visible like that." "That's what I saw tonight," Buffy told him. Marcus shifted his weight and looked up at her, curious. "Your cousin... I figured it was just the light, or, uh, lack of it, being night and all. But I could've sworn he went all wolfy and..." her voice trailed off and she gestured dumbly at Marcus. Getting her meaning, he nodded. "Aeralyus has always gone for intimidation over substance," he replied with a wry grimace as he stood up. "We don't usually keep it visible for long. We're not like vampires – it's not an infection. It's part of us, but its form is so radically different from humans that it doesn't really exist on its own, now. Once, it did, we did, I mean. But not now." He glanced past her to the fridge. "More water in there?" Buffy smiled shyly, and stepped out of his way. He took the hint and strode past her, one hand on his hip as he worked to get his breathing under control. She tried to stay focused, but was captivated by the countless white lines undulating across his body as he leaned over to open the fridge. They look like... a snake's scales, she observed, intuitively recognizing the intent behind the curious diagonal lines. Marcus drank half of a second water bottle and handed it to her. As she drank, he began speaking again. "From what I've been taught, our clan didn't develop its fighting talents until after we'd begun, uh," he searched for a delicate way to put it. "I suppose inter-marriage is a suitable word." Buffy lowered the water bottle, still silent, and stepped past him to put it away. Marcus continued, "the demon shape, while perhaps frightening, is vulnerable. For starters, it doesn't entirely exist except by virtue of our own intentions. It's very easy to lose that focus when attacked, and come back to human shape. Shifting requires relaxing one's outward awareness, and letting down your guard is a distinct vulnerability when facing an opponent. We've learned to manipulate parts of it to our advantage, within the human shell. That's how we developed our defenses, though some of us..." He was reminded of his uncle's unique defenses. "Some of you what?" Buffy straightened up from the fridge and turned to face Marcus. "My clan's resorted to magick through much of their history, to protect themselves." He shrugged. "A long interaction with magick invariably changes the user, and they develop other defenses." "Like what?" "Depends." Marcus replied vaguely, remembering his uncle's fear of this girl. I'm so unused to talking... He shook his head. "I doubt you'll run into any of those relatives - they're rarer than my clan would want you to think." A wintry smile flashed across his face. "My cousins, like me, have only the traditional two weapons." "Invisible claws and a bad attitude?" Marcus grinned. "No. The talons are for close-in, but the other weapon is..." He blushed suddenly, and Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Is this a guy thing?" she asked, dubious. Marcus shook his head, and swallowed hard, regaining his composure. "Oh, not at all. But as long as I'm showing you my clan's secrets..." he held out a hand, and she stepped forward, then put her hand in his, braced for the jolt. It came and went, but not nearly as powerful. Either he's tired, or I'm getting used to it, she thought. I wonder if Xander and Willow eventually became used to it. I wonder... Her thoughts were broken as Marcus gently pressed her fingers between his, and leaned down over her hand. She stared, confused, thinking he was going to kiss her hand – and then realized he was licking the back of her wrist. At first, it was soothing, in a sandpapery way, and then it became irritating. She jerked her hand slightly, and he pulled away from her hand, but didn't let go of it. "Okay, this is definitely a guy thing. I don't know what you think -" Buffy started to launch into him about bad seduction moves when she looked at the back of her wrist, cutting her words short. Her wrist was reddened and raw, like she'd scraped it badly, and it ached slightly. She considered getting angry, but instead flexed her wrist, aware of the pain that shot through her arm. "You..." "Yeah," he answered, but still didn't drop her hand. Buffy didn't make any moves to pull away. "Once more and you would've been bleeding." He let go of her hand, almost reluctantly, she thought. "Bleeding," she repeated, bringing her wrist up closer to look at it. "Hunh. Speedy Slayer healing would be good about now." Marcus grinned, obviously relieved she hadn't gotten angry about it. "If you want any of the oil, I brought the last of it with me." Buffy shook her head. "Just weirded. Never thought being licked to death was possible." "Well, there's bad licking and there's..." his voice trailed off as she glanced up at him, suspicious, to see his gray eyes twinkling at her mischievously. She blushed and dropped her wrist, stepping back. All business now, she reminded herself. There's a reason we're here. She squared her shoulders and he took the hint, dropping back on his heels. "This time, remember the hands – if they're open, you're dealing with talons. If it's a fist, the talons are buried." Marcus flexed his hands. "But everything else is regular human?" She ran her gaze up and down his body, checking for additional strengths and weaknesses she might've missed before. Marcus smiled wryly. "Yup, all human." Buffy glanced up at his face, and flushed in response. His eyes were slitted, and his body was arched as he leaned towards her. He's not next to me, she thought, but it feels like he's still touching me. She shook off the sensation and braced herself. Marcus made the first move, his right hand flashing out, palm down, slicing diagonally up across her body. She dodged to the side, twisting away from the whistling sound as the talons grazed her shirt. |
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