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'You are not supposed to be here, vampire.' Spike recognised the voice booming through the darkness as belonging to the boy from before. The words were dim and distant, but he could feel the malevolent presence close at hand and concluded from how groggy he felt that he must have been unconscious. He looked around, fighting to gain focus, trying to sense Buffy's presence. Even his vampiric senses were having difficulty adjusting to this place. As his vision cleared, his eyes fell on the only source of light in the place: a small hole in the ceiling, casting a cylinder of light downwards onto an altar. And on the altar, Buffy.
'Slayer sacrifice? Not very original…' He made his voice loud and clear, attempting at sarcasm but sounding preoccupied, as he was. Listening to the echo his voice made, he tried to gain a perception of the where he was, still searching it for possible escape routes while listening for the Slayer's heartbeat.
'Originality isn't really one of my core concerns.' The voice came from the other side of the altar, through the shaft of light, green eyes glowing slightly. Twenty, maybe twenty-two paces away. Spike concluded he was in an underground chamber of sorts; cold, damp, dirty. Apart from the hole in the ceiling he couldn't see any other way out. But there had to be another way, after all, there was no way any one could have gotten the altar through the hole in the ceiling.
He heard the boy approaching and clambered quickly to his feet, if he was going to find another way out, he'd have to move around to look for it. He realised that the moving about part was going to include more being thrown around than moving of his own accord when the boy shoulder charged him into the far wall.
'Such a shame there is no wood down here, how am I going to get rid of you?' The boy hissed in Spike's ear while pinning him to the wall with his upper body.
No exit on this wall. No exit on the one he just left. Two more to go.
Spike pushed the boy off of him, using the wall behind as leverage, then hit him square across the face with a forearm smash. Stalking around his enemy, Spike glance at the other two walls and so no evidence of a way out on either of them. This wasn't looking so good. Add to that the fact that Buffy didn't seem to be coming round any time soon and he figured he was pretty screwed.
Again the boy came at him, this time kicking him in the chest sending him crashing into the altar with enormous force. If he was human, he'd have been winded in addition to the cracked ribs that he was sure he'd now acquired. But lying beside the altar momentarily he realised two things: one, Buffy was still breathing and two, he'd found a way out. The force with which he was thrown into the altar had made it shift slightly, and had exposed the first two steps of a staircase beneath it. Standing, he advanced on the demon boy, determined to get the upper hand this time. If they were going to escape, he'd need to move the altar some more, and he didn't much fancy the idea of being the one to get pounded into it to cause it to shift.
The two launched themselves at each other, fists, feet, fangs, each trying to gain the upper hand. Spike fought dirty, kneeing the boy in the groin, scratching at his eyes, stamping on his foot and the occasional headbutt to keep himself in the game. But he was tiring and not managing to get anywhere. The boy started to get the better of him, bloodying his nose with a well placed elbow to add to his broken ribs, smashing him into walls, making his head ring. Suddenly he found himself in a headlock, certain the boy was about to twist his head off. But the pressure stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Looking round, Spike saw the boy stagger, then fall at his feet, a stake protruding from his spine. And there was Buffy, slightly groggy looking, but strong nonetheless, smiling at him.
And her eyes glowed an acid green in the darkness.
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End of part 5 by Reuladair*
'You are not supposed to be here, vampire.' Spike recognised the voice booming through the darkness as belonging to the boy from before. The words were dim and distant, but he could feel the malevolent presence close at hand and concluded from how groggy he felt that he must have been unconscious. He looked around, fighting to gain focus, trying to sense Buffy's presence. Even his vampiric senses were having difficulty adjusting to this place. As his vision cleared, his eyes fell on the only source of light in the place: a small hole in the ceiling, casting a cylinder of light downwards onto an altar. And on the altar, Buffy.
'Slayer sacrifice? Not very original…' He made his voice loud and clear, attempting at sarcasm but sounding preoccupied, as he was. Listening to the echo his voice made, he tried to gain a perception of the where he was, still searching it for possible escape routes while listening for the Slayer's heartbeat.
'Originality isn't really one of my core concerns.' The voice came from the other side of the altar, through the shaft of light, green eyes glowing slightly. Twenty, maybe twenty-two paces away. Spike concluded he was in an underground chamber of sorts; cold, damp, dirty. Apart from the hole in the ceiling he couldn't see any other way out. But there had to be another way, after all, there was no way any one could have gotten the altar through the hole in the ceiling.
He heard the boy approaching and clambered quickly to his feet, if he was going to find another way out, he'd have to move around to look for it. He realised that the moving about part was going to include more being thrown around than moving of his own accord when the boy shoulder charged him into the far wall.
'Such a shame there is no wood down here, how am I going to get rid of you?' The boy hissed in Spike's ear while pinning him to the wall with his upper body.
No exit on this wall. No exit on the one he just left. Two more to go.
Spike pushed the boy off of him, using the wall behind as leverage, then hit him square across the face with a forearm smash. Stalking around his enemy, Spike glance at the other two walls and so no evidence of a way out on either of them. This wasn't looking so good. Add to that the fact that Buffy didn't seem to be coming round any time soon and he figured he was pretty screwed.
Again the boy came at him, this time kicking him in the chest sending him crashing into the altar with enormous force. If he was human, he'd have been winded in addition to the cracked ribs that he was sure he'd now acquired. But lying beside the altar momentarily he realised two things: one, Buffy was still breathing and two, he'd found a way out. The force with which he was thrown into the altar had made it shift slightly, and had exposed the first two steps of a staircase beneath it. Standing, he advanced on the demon boy, determined to get the upper hand this time. If they were going to escape, he'd need to move the altar some more, and he didn't much fancy the idea of being the one to get pounded into it to cause it to shift.
The two launched themselves at each other, fists, feet, fangs, each trying to gain the upper hand. Spike fought dirty, kneeing the boy in the groin, scratching at his eyes, stamping on his foot and the occasional headbutt to keep himself in the game. But he was tiring and not managing to get anywhere. The boy started to get the better of him, bloodying his nose with a well placed elbow to add to his broken ribs, smashing him into walls, making his head ring. Suddenly he found himself in a headlock, certain the boy was about to twist his head off. But the pressure stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Looking round, Spike saw the boy stagger, then fall at his feet, a stake protruding from his spine. And there was Buffy, slightly groggy looking, but strong nonetheless, smiling at him.
And her eyes glowed an acid green in the darkness.
================
End of part 5 by Reuladair*
