Liquidram | "I'm going to have to start passing around keys." Giles muttered when he caught a glimpse of a shock of blond hair through the small window in the door. Giles grumbled. "And stock up on blood... Do stop that bothersome knocking," he called as the knocking continued in a non-broken cadence. He had barely gotten the chain off the door when it swung open, clipping his right foot. "Dammit man, watch-" Giles' words were cut short when he realized the man breezing past him was a complete stranger. He walked in past Giles and stood in the middle of the room, his head lifted. He slowly began turning in a complete circle, apparently taking stock of every item in the room. He walked over to the desk and tried to open one of the locked drawers. "May I help you?" Giles began to walk cautiously toward the tall bookcase, never taking his eyes off the young man. Aeralyus ignored him, continuing his tour of the living room, but the few books scattered about told him only that this man was most likely a scholar. He could sense Marcus had been here, but it was like following a dog's scent through a room filled with cheap perfume. If Marcus has actually been here, something is muffling his tracks, he thought, irritated. Giles slid his hand behind the bookshelf, and pulled a crossbow loaded with a wooden bolt from the leather sling. Aeralyus stopped at the desk, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. Either Marcus is small enough to fit in a desk drawer, or I've been misled by a decoy. He heard a click behind him. "You'll be dead before you can aim that thing properly," Aeralyus murmured nonchalantly over his shoulder. "I don't think so," Giles retorted, taking aim at the stranger's back. "I seem to be out of silver bullets, but I'll bet wood to the heart has pretty much the same results."Aeralyus turned to Giles, amused by the man's humor and apparent lack of fear. He lunged before Giles could react and smacked the crossbow to the ground, knocking it out of Giles' grasp. He then turned to go, pulling on the top of the heavy bookcase as he went. Bending over to pick up his crossbow, Giles ended up pinned to the floor beneath the bookcase. The Watcher raised his head, expecting another attack. The room was empty, and the only sound was the hinges creaking as the door swung shut. |
| Marcus lay where he'd fallen asleep, scrunched down on the beat-up old sofa. His head was leaned back on the sofa, his body twisted uncomfortably to one side so Buffy could lean against his chest, and his arms encircled her. Her breathing was steady against his collarbone. Vaguely aware of his physical body as he reached the surface of dreaming, her soft breaths became a bird, fluttering within his chest. Its feather tips grazed his sternum. Its wings beat against his ribcage, and its soft cries were a distant murmur. Marcus shifted on the sofa, trying to dislodge the bird trapped inside his chest, and accidentally bumped his elbow against the sofa arm. He was awake instantly, the sudden pain radiating through his elbow before fading. Blinking once or twice, it took him a second to realize Buffy's breathing was rapid. A single light in the corner shone dimly, and by its weak light he could see her eyes moving frenetically under her tightly closed lids. Marcus carefully shifted under her. Uncertain, he watched her face nervously, worried by the fear and longing chasing each other across her expression. Buffy's fist suddenly shot out, striking Marcus across his right cheek and glancing against the side of his nose. He yelped and grabbed her flailing fist with one hand as he put his other hand instinctively up to his face. "Buffy!" Marcus exclaimed. She didn't wake up but continued to flail, and he shook her, his hands digging into her wrists. Her eyes popped open as she continued to fight, still not aware of her surroundings. "Buffy," he called again, not as loudly. Buffy looked around her in shock. A sob caught in her throat. She frowned, and tried again, regaining her self-control as she became completely awake, and focused on his face. "What happened to you?" She squinted at the red mark already fading across his cheekbone. "That would be you," he responded ruefully, his grasp on her wrists gentler as she sat up straighter. She wriggled her wrists and he released his hold, but she surprised him by sliding backwards off the sofa to a standing position. "What was it? Are you okay?" he asked, bewildered. "I hate dreams like that," she told him as she pulled her hair back from where it had come loose from the hair tie. "Come on. You ready?" "For what?" Marcus asked dumbly as she grabbed her socks and shoes. "Time to patrol," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "Best therapy. Let's go." "Therapy." Marcus grimaced as he leaned over to put on his socks and shoes, then grinned wryly. "So, everything else so far was just warm-up?" "Yeah." She grabbed her coat from the hook by the door, flashing him a smile. She opened the door, and Marcus tugged on his own jacket while she locked the door behind her. He was startled as Buffy jerked her head at the empty street and picked her pace. Together, the two of them ran briskly through the deserted city streets, two souls enjoying the stretched muscles and steady beat. Neither of them had heard the shop's phone ringing. After a pause, it rang again, four more times before it was silent.
Buffy had just rounded the corner, running straight down the middle of the street. Marcus was vaguely aware of familiar shops and street signs flashing by as he stretched his legs to keep up with this surprisingly fast petite woman. Inhaling deeply, he was suddenly assailed by an all-too-familiar scent. |
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"It's a bit late for window shopping," Buffy replied. Her excitement had grown with each passing moment. I can't believe this. Have I really missed fighting side-by-side with another Slayer? Even as she thought it, she pushed it away. "Talia." Marcus whispered the name. "She's nearby." "There's two of us, one of her." Buffy put her hand on his arm to get his attention. Instinctively he put his arm around her, drawing her close and a bit behind him. Impatiently, she dug her elbow into his side and was rewarded with a quiet yelp. She stepped around to face him. "We could finish this, now." "Shh." Marcus replied softly, trying to calm his panic. He hesitated, then leaned closer and brushed his lips softly over her forehead. He pulled back to see Buffy's face contorted in confusion, but his shyness won out and he looked away from her. "You may be ready," he whispered, "but I'm not. Let's go."
Spike stepped out of the shadows, listening as the footfalls faded in the distance. He scowled at the intimate touches he'd glimpsed between Buffy and that half-demon. What if something is wrong? Marcus had clearly been terrified. Spike could sense the fear hanging in the air. Buffy might need my help. He turned and began walking in the direction they had taken, then hesitated. No, it's wolf-boy's problem, he can deal with it. Spike pulled out another cigarette and lit it. Still grumbling about Marcus, he took a deep drag, and turned around to look at the neon lights of the bar he'd just left. It was only a matter of time, he sighed, and headed back into the bar. Gotta have a monster in the man, but maybe I'm just not it. Spike re-seated himself and ordered another drink. She can take care of herself... Shaking his head slowly, he took a sip of his beer. ... but that bloke is bad news. This one time he hoped that his instincts were wrong. |
| The graveyard was apparently empty, but Marcus followed along as Buffy tramped through the length of it. She was still a bit disturbed by Marcus' ability to sense his cousin. "You make it sound obscene," Marcus protested. "And it's not. It's just like, uh, following someone's footprints." "Still sounds weird." Buffy looked around the graveyard and zipped up her jacket. Once they'd stopped running, she'd realized it had gotten colder while they were sparring. "D'ya think she could smell you?" "I don't know. If Tara's wards are good..." They picked their way between the tombstones. "Then we can worry about her later." She pulled ahead, peering into the darkness. "We've got patrolling to do, for the moment. One thing at a time, right? 'Cause, more than one is hard to fight, and that was a lot more intelligent sounding when I thought it." He chuckled. "Don't worry about it. I guess I'm just - oooff!" The breath was knocked out of him as a vampire came from behind a monument, tackling him to the ground. Buffy spun around, stake at the ready. "Hey!" She grabbed the vampire's shoulder as he pinned Marcus to the ground. "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt?" She plunged the stake into the monster's back, dusting him. "Thanks," said Marcus, coughing. She helped him to his feet. "No problem." "Yes, problem." He pointed behind her. She turned, to see five more vampires emerging from the darkness. From behind her, Marcus teased, "you had to talk about more than one being harder to fight, didn't you?" "Oh, so this is my fault, now? Fine. You take those two." She indicated a pair of smaller vamps who had been hiding behind a mausoleum. "I'll handle the rest." "What?" He was indignant. "How come I have to take the little ones? And that leaves you to deal with three all on your own!" She pushed him out of the way, and dropped to one knee, tripping an on-rushing vampire. "Four, actually. Don't argue." She staked her second victim. "Um, go?" Marcus scowled and charged the two diminutive vampires, grabbing a fallen tree branch as he ran. "I just think we should divide them up evenly," he said as he blocked a punch neatly. Buffy moved forward, placing herself between Marcus and another pair of vampires. Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of another one circling around behind her. "I've been doing this longer. I'm more used to it." She thrust her stake towards the creature behind her, and leapt at the other two, kicking one in the chest. The vampire flew backwards, rolling clumsily over a low tomb. "Besides, what's the most you've ever fought at once?" She punctuated her question with a solid punch to the face of her third opponent. Marcus jammed his tree branch through one of his attackers. "I managed three at one time pretty neatly last night, if I do say so myself, for a total of five." He brought the other end of the branch up sharply, catching the other short vampire under the chin. A follow-up blow sent the monster flying into the doors of the mausoleum, which gave under the impact. "No fair if you're counting the one I staked first," Buffy retorted as she staked the vamp in front of her, only to be seized from behind by the one she'd sent flying earlier. He pulled her backwards, slamming her onto the top of the tomb. The stake fell out of her hand. "Slayer," the vampire hissed. His breath stank of blood. "Once in a while it'd be nice if you paid a little attention to us." His companion approached the tomb, appearing in her field of vision. "Yeah, we're feeling a little under-appreciated, here." "Great. Needy blood-suckers." She brought her foot up into the groin of the vamp in front of her, curled her legs up, and kicked the other one in the face. "Like I don't get enough of that from Spike." She rolled over her shoulder off the tomb, landing with her feet on the ground, and threw the second vamp against a tree. She was a little surprised when he exploded into dust, revealing a broken branch sticking out of the tree trunk. Marcus had dispatched both of the smaller vampires, and turned to the last remaining one. "I know how you feel," he told the vampire solemnly. The vamp looked up, still clutching at his crotch. "She kicked you, too?" "No, but she's hard to impress." He sent his foot spinning into the vampire's chin, knocking the vampire upright. Buffy saw Marcus' kick and immediately responded. With a cry of, "hey, that's mine," she rolled over the top of the tomb, scooping up her stake in mid-roll. She came to her feet on the other side, and with one fluid motion hurled the stake into the vampire's back. She looked at Marcus as the dust cleared, and shrugged. "Well, I did call dibs on him first." |
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Spike swigged his beer and set it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Bloody ultimate nachos, he thought morosely. They're gonna be repeatin' on me all bleedin' night. Soddin' Harris. Then he thought of the ten-dollar bill he'd manage to lift from Xander's pocket earlier, and cheered up a little. He had swung by Willy's old place when the evening with Giles and Xander had broken up. If there was anything to hear about Marcus's kissing cousins, though, no one was talking. Almost enough to make me wish Willy was around. The grapevine just isn't what it used to be, he thought to himself – raising a hand to the barman for another beer. Giles better know what he's talking about – 'subverting the Slayer's energy', 'reverse the transference rituals'... bloody hell, what the hell are demons coming to these days? Annoyed, he scowled at the bartender's slowness in bringing him another beer. A fellow just can't get a good fight these days. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette but stopped at the scent of a faint but expensive perfume. Spike turned to see a tall, dark-haired woman had taken the seat next to him. He narrowed his eyes at her, enjoying the sight. Not human, but she sure is a looker. She had porcelain skin, and didn't mind showing it. A lot of it, Spike noticed appreciatively. Her dress was cut low and cut high, and Spike drank in the sight of her legs shown off to perfection by a pair of four-inch heels. It wasn't Talia's usual choice of watering holes, but she'd scented her cousin on the pavement outside. She couldn't resist taking a quick look inside to see if he was actually foolish enough to let himself be cornered. In a dirt bar, no less, she thought, her lip curling in disgust. A glance assured her that Marcus was nowhere to be seen. He's been here, I know it. Her glance fell on Spike, by the bar, and she smiled, a wintry expression of delight. I could use a little distraction, and that'll do nicely. "Are you just going to sit there staring, or are you going to buy a lady a drink?" Her voice was low and husky, like she'd smoked a few too many cigarettes and didn't give a damn. Spike felt a stirring of interest and sat up away from where he was hunkered over his drink. Raising an eyebrow at her, he said, "A lady wouldn't ask." He was rewarded with another slow smile, and shrugged in response. "I'll bite, so to speak." He flashed her a grin in response. "What's your poison?" Narrowing her eyes slightly, she shrugged the cream pashmina from her shoulders and pursed her lips. "Bite. How droll. Wild Turkey – straight, no ice." "Coming right up." Spike nodded to the bartender and repeated her order, along with another beer for himself. Satisfied the bartender was filling the order, Spike turned his attention back to the woman. There was something familiar about her, but he was certain he would remember a woman who looked this good. The eyes, and the accent... Son of a bitch! She looks like Marcus. He bit down on his lower lip and flashed her the seductive eyebrow routine once more, hoping to cover his surprise. Oh yeah, 'bout time to charm the enemy. "No ice," Spike observed as the bartender delivered the woman's drink. "You British? Wouldn't've guessed from that accent." "No," she answered. The woman glanced at his boots, running her eyes leisurely back up the length of his body. She smiled as her eyes met his again. "But I've spent plenty of time there. You, though. London?" "Yeah." Spike grinned at her as the bartender delivered her drink. "Haven't bin back 'ome for quite some time, now. Probably give the folks a bit of a start if I turned up on their doorstep." Talia stretched, pulling the fabric of her dress tighter across her chest. "You know it, baby. Same here," she purred. Spike matched her throaty chuckle and clicked his glass to hers. This is going to be fun. |
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