"So Will, whatcha doing?"
Buffy paced nervously around her friend's
room. "Working on anything good?"
Willow sighed. "I'm just doing some
research on Doc. Or trying to anyway. This book is telling
me nothing. You said you heard his voice right before you came back?"
"Uh huh."
Buffy opened the mini-fridge and spied
a plate of buffalo wings covered by a flimsy piece of Saran Wrap. They didn't look the freshest, but . . .
"You want these Will?"
"Nah," Willow shook her head distractedly. "You have them."
"Thanks." Buffy began gnawing on
a wing. "Mmmm. Spicy."
"Yeah." Willow considered her friend. "OK Buffy. What's wrong?"
"Wrong? Nothing's wrong."
"You know Denial ain't just a river in
Egypt."
"Why would anything be wrong?"
Willow laughed tonelessly. "Let's
see. You come back from the dead. You have all the memories
of a sister-shaped mystical key thingy. You also got up-close and
personal with the psyche of a soulless vamp who tried to kill you but suddenly
decided hey!--he loves you instead. To top it off, you drank his
and Dawnie's blood--can I just say ewww here? Plus there's the weirdness
of Doc, a nasty little demon who went all apocalypsy on you. And
now you've got the Council in town. So I could kinda see how a lot
could be wrong."
Buffy suddenly seemed very immersed in
her buffalo wings.
"So how did it go today? With the
Council's physicians I mean?"
"Well, they took some blood. Poked
and prodded. Checked my reflexes. Had me fight. The usual
stuff."
"And . . ."
"And they want me and Spike to meet them
tonight to discuss their findings."
"Well, no wonder you're stressed sweetie!"
"I'm kind of afraid what they're going
to tell me. What if I'm not normal?"
"Buffy, you've never been normal. Vampire Slayer? Remember?" Willow put her arm around her friend.
"I hope Spike didn't screw things up."
"Why would he do that Buffy? He cares
about you and Dawn. He knows you guys need the money."
Buffy bit viciously into another wing. "Remember that blonde watcher, Lydia Higginbottom?"
"Vaguely."
"Well apparently Dr. Higginbottom wrote
her thesis on Spike. They went out last night. Spike said it
was 'to grease the wheels' . . . whatever that means." Buffy paused
and tore another scrap of meat from the helpless wing. "He was greasing
more than wheels last night."
"Buffy, what do you mean?" Willow
observed her friend closely.
"I saw them Will. He was kissing
her outside the restaurant."
Willow smirked. "Spike, you devil."
"What?"
"Nothing Buffy. So why are you so
upset? Sounds like Spike is moving on. Besides, he's doing
you a favour, right? Helping you get into the Council's good graces,
avoiding any ooky questions about why he's been helping you. Seems
like it's all to the good."
"I suppose. But the lips of Spike? That's just blech! Who would want to kiss him anyway?"
"Who indeed?" Willow was having a
hard time suppressing the urge to laugh.
"Plus, a vampire with a Watcher? That's even more perverse than . . ."
"A vampire with a Slayer, right?"
"Right!" Buffy licked the spicy sauce
from her fingers. "Got any hot chocolate Will?"
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
"Slayer."
"Vampire."
Silence.
Buffy stood by the door of the small white
room where Spike, draped nonchalantly over a hideous orange chair, had
already made himself comfortable.
"Who decorates waiting rooms anyway?"
"Must be a sadist." The vinyl creaked
as Spike shifted his weight.
Silence. Were those crickets chirping? Buffy took a bright green seat next to Spike.
"So Spike, did you have fun last night
on your date?" Buffy examined the cuticles of her nails. Time
for another manicure.
Spike picked at the remnants of black polish
on his left thumb. "Yeah. Lydia's an alright bird." He
cleared his throat and scanned the room. "Wonder if she's gonna be
here?"
"Nervous Spike?"
"Nah." Spike attempted smirking bravado. "Course not."
"Of course you wouldn't be nervous. She obviously liked you. After all, you were making out with her
last night." Buffy opened a five-month old issue of People magazine
and angrily flipped a page.
"Hey, how do you . . . " Spike's
voice raised several decibels. "Wait a minute! Slayer, you
were spying on me!"
"I was not." Buffy violently flipped
another page. Catherine Zeta-Jones and that old guy had a baby. Would wonders never cease? "I was just on patrol, and I happened
. . ."
"Oh yeah. Vamps really hang around
Luigi's. It's their kinda place."
"You're a vamp and you were there."
"That's different."
"Is not."
"Is too."
Quentin Travers appeared in the doorway
to the examination room and sighed. "Please come in. Both of
you."
Buffy dropped the dog-eared magazine and
flounced past Spike.
"Bloody women."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
A very self-conscious Dr. Lydia Higginbottom
stood with her clipboard at the back of the room, documenting the proceedings. Her pale skin looked a bit jaundiced and dark circles rimmed her bespectacled
eyes.
Furtively Spike glanced at the watcher. Definitely hungover. Suddenly the generic abstract art on the wall
above her head was absolutely fascinating. Wonder if it's computer
generated? Or maybe the artist just was really good at drawing straight
lines? Or maybe . . .
"We have the results of our inquiry." Quentin Travers cleared his throat. "Please sit." He motioned
to a pair of austere leather chairs. "We have some rather interesting
news for both of you."
Spike withdrew his smokes. "I'm dying
for a fag mate. You mind?"
"As a matter of fact, Mr. Bloody, I do. Put them away." Travers was all business.
"Right." Spike's hand shook slightly
as he slid the packet into his pocket. "So what's the news?"
"It's really quite remarkable. Dr.
Higginbottom and I have consulted all of our available resources, and in
the history of the Council, we've never seen anything like it. Ms.
Summers is truly unique."
Spike snorted. 'You can say that
again."
"Perhaps if I speak slowly and show you
pictures you will be able to understand the ramifications of your actions,
Mr. Bloody."
"No need to be testy, Mr. Travers."
"Spike," Buffy hissed. "Be quiet."
Spike looked chastened. She was right. Not the time for witty rejoinders.
Traver's hooked his laptop into a projector. "Here, Mr. Bloody. Pay close attention."
A microscopic view of something appeared.
"This is a slide of vampire's blood. And this . . ." Another slide appeared next to the original. "This
is a slide of Ms. Summers' blood."
"No," Buffy whispered. "It can't
be true."
Spike's heart sank. He did this to
her, his Slayer, his Buffy.
"We don't have a name for what you are
Ms. Summers, but it's an abomination." He paused and glared at Spike. Lydia cringed, but continued taking notes. "Almost as great an abomination
as a vampire in love with a Slayer."
END PART NINE