Title: Haunt of the House
Author: Tracy (aka Jericho
TGF)
Disclaimer: The storyline
is the only thing I can claim, mores the pity.
The rest belong to Joss and anyone that has anything to do with the
Buffy universe.
Spoilers: All of it - the
whole kit and caboodle. Every single
one of the 100 episodes is fair game.
Distribution: I'm thinking
yeah...as long as I know where it's going beforehand and my name is on it.
Summery: A weekend away
from Sunnydale becomes more than expected.
B/S…of course.
Rated: R
Dedications: To the best
friend a person could ever hope to have.
Kelly, this is for you.
Haunt of the
House
"You have got to be bleedin' kiddin' me."
One very irritated vampire got out of his car and stared at the
house in front of him. Scorn and
disdain set in his expression as he examined the all-too-cheery yellow exterior
of a large, three-story house with its white, gingerbread molding and sweeping
front porch. Soft light poured from the
windows, giving off a welcoming glow and lighting up the grounds. His lip curled in a sneer when he noticed
the perfectly manicured lawn, perfectly trimmed hedges, and perfectly placed
stone walkway. It was all so…perfect.
He whirled on the petite young woman who was even now removing her
small suitcase and his ragged duffle bag from the cavernous trunk of the
Desoto.
"This is your idea of a weekend getaway? It's Barbie's bloody Dream House! Tell me, pet, what is it about me bein' a
vampire that you just don't understand?"
Setting the luggage down and slamming the trunk, Buffy grinned at
the uncomfortable fiend. "Spike, shut
up. You made your bed, you'll just have
to lie in it." She sent him a saucy
grin and sidled up to him with an impish gleam in her eyes. "Of course, the fact that you won't be in
that bed alone should be enough to keep the complaints down to a minimum for
the next two days."
Completely forgetting his irritation as soon as she pressed her
body up against him, he growled low in his throat in response to the heat that
flared between them. The scorn and
disdain slipped from his face, giving way to desire and need.
They had been together for four months and still, every single
time he touched her – or she touched him – his body responded with deep
craving. It could have been four years,
forty years; he knew he'd still feel the same level of passion and love for
this woman.
She was right, though, it was his own fault he was here. Little did he know that the run-in with that
Bovleaur demon they came across two days ago would result in this little jaunt
into Norman Rockwell hell. They'd been
patrolling together, just like they had done almost every night since Buffy
came back from the land of the not alive seven months ago, when the rather
boring evening took a nasty turn.
Bovleaur demons aren't large – the tallest are just over five and
a half feet tall – but they're vicious and strong. Plus, there's that whole scaly body armor thing. Makes them a touch difficult to kill. Buffy's trusty stake had been completely
ineffective, bouncing off the creature harmlessly. Spike had gotten behind it but had been knocked back…and out,
when his head got up close and personal with a large, marble headstone.
Maybe it was the non-stop patrolling. Maybe it was the increase in evil baddies that had poured into
Sunnydale when the dark forces had found out about her death – they were slower
on the uptake about her return than they had been about her demise. Maybe it was just one of those rare, off
nights for the Slayer.
Whatever it was, Buffy hadn't been in top form when the Bovleaur
attacked. Spike came to in the nick of
time, just as the demon was getting ready to take a bite of Slayer
sandwich. He snuck up on the bastard
and snapped its neck before it got a chance to inflict a fatal injury.
As well as it had ended – one dead evil creature, two alive 'white
hats'…well, one 'white hat', one 'kind of gray hat' – the encounter had been a
warning. Spike loved Buffy enough to
heed that warning. He couldn't lose her
again. Especially since she'd finally
given in and admitted she had feelings for him so recently.
A Slayer and a vampire sans soul made for an unconventional
couple, but it worked for them. Spike
would do just about anything to guarantee that it continued to work. So he'd suggested…in a rather frantically
demanding way…that Buffy take some time off, get away from Sunnydale for a while. Let the Scoobies handle the patrols so they
could slip away in the night for a weekend.
He'd even taken it upon himself to set up the Slayer's off-time with
Giles.
His plans hit a snag, though, when Buffy refused to go. For some reason she didn't think that a
vampire's idea of a weekend away would be quite what she needed for unwind
time.
He'd been offended. Sure,
he had been planning on taking her to San Diego for some partying and fun –
wanting to avoid Los Angeles for obvious reasons – but still.
The fact remained, if he wanted her to go, he would have to let
her plan her idea of a nice getaway.
Either let Buffy choose when and where, or no dice. So that's why he was stuck here, in front of
this sickeningly sweet looking Bed and Breakfast in a town called Three
Rivers. The name was enough to give a
vampire a case of the shudders. And
he'd actually driven almost five hours to get there.
His only consolation was that Buffy was with him for a whole
weekend without any of those irritating distractions that the Scoobies
provided. Probably get stuck in bed for
the duration of their stay, though.
Spike doubted there was much else to do in the one-pub town.
Come to think of it…that was one hell of a consolation. The vampire grinned and pressed a quick,
searing kiss to Buffy's lips.
"Right then," he said, when he finally lifted his head from her
delectable mouth, "I guess I'll just have to suffer through it, won't I?"
"Mmm hmm, but somehow I think your monumental sacrifice will be
worth it. Come on, let's go in and
register. I'm tired and I need a
shower."
Spike grinned at her slyly.
"Shower, huh? Yeah, I think I
could deal with a wash up myself."
Buffy swatted at him playfully before grabbing up her small
suitcase and leading the way up the walkway.
Once inside, Buffy was pleased to see the welcoming exterior was
matched by a quaint and warm interior.
The entryway floor and walls were a finely polished, light-colored
wood. Decorated in tasteful Americana,
the artwork on the walls and the knickknacks around the reservation desk
brought a down home feel to the place.
Kind of like visiting your favorite grandparents during the
holidays. She sent a swift mental
"Thank you" to Willow, who'd found the adorable Bed and Breakfast advertised on
the Internet. It was just what Buffy
needed for some nice relaxing downtime.
Spike strode in behind Buffy, duffel over his shoulder and an
arrogant swagger in his gait. He
sniffed in derision at the décor and dinged the little bell on the desk in
front of him. When no one appeared at
the ring, he hit it harder.
Buffy thought she heard him mutter, "So its Barbie's parents
bloody Dream House, then," under his breath.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head.
You can't dress him up and you can't take him anywhere, she
thought drolly.
Bustling out of a room off to the right, a matronly woman in her
fifties dressed surprisingly chic in a business suit hurried over to them. She beamed at the couple.
"Hello there! Welcome to
The Carr House." Turning to address
Buffy, she said, "You must be Miss Summers."
Buffy nodded and smiled, drawn in by the sweet woman with her
infectiously happy personality. "I am,
actually, but please, call me Buffy."
"And I'm Mrs. Heggan, but I would prefer you call me Ida. We're so informal here. It's more like a family, really, than a Bed
& Breakfast." The woman smiled
widely and patted the Slayer on the arm before slipping behind the desk. "I have your reservation, dear. For two nights, correct?" At the affirmation she continued. "We have you in the Dalton Suite, such a
lovely room. I'm sure you and you're…" Ida,
cast a quick, questioning glance to the ultra blonde vampire standing
impatiently next to Buffy, "…friend will have a wonderful visit."
Grinning and thinking quickly, Buffy spoke before Spike could get
a chance. "This is Ken…Ken Smith."
The surprised look he shot her almost made her giggle, but he did
manage to control himself long enough to smile…well, grimace would be more
accurate…at Mrs. Heggan. Buffy would
pay for the indignity later. When he
thought about just what he would do to make her pay, his grimace grew to a real
smile.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, mum. So, where's the room?"
"Oh my, you're English, then.
I noticed the accent. I love
accents. How wonderful!"
Spike had to struggle to prevent a deep sigh and an eye roll. "I'm English, yeah. Where's the room?" To distract himself from his growing impatience he grabbed Buffy
around the waist and leaned down to nuzzle her neck. It was time to make her squirm a little.
Buffy was mortified at being pawed at so…deliciously…in front of
the gentle and charming woman. There
was a warning in her voice as she pushed Spike away, trying to hold on to her
smile. "Ken, dear, please. Now's not the time." Under her breath, just loud enough for his
vampire ears to pick up, she hissed, "Continue to embarrass me, Spike, and
it won't be time ever again."
Ida completely missed, or was professional enough to ignore, the
undercurrents between the pair. She
just set out a form for Buffy to fill out and gave them a warm smile. "How adorable. You two make such a precious couple."
Spike grinned, unabashed, and tossed an arm over Buffy's
shoulders. "Been tellin' her that for
over a year, Ida, but she only just recently came 'round to my way o'
thinkin'. Worked out okay, though,
she's quite fond o' me now."
She was going to respond to the arrogant and thoroughly irritating
vampire, but standing there, in the warm and cozy reception area, Buffy felt a
chill go through her. A draft of icy
cold air sluiced over her skin and she shuddered. Spike felt the change, felt her surprise, heard her quick intake
of breath, and all manner of teasing fell away as he slid a concerned glance
down at her.
"What is it, pet?"
Once it passed, Buffy was left feeling mildly foolish. It was just cold air, after all. No need to go all wiggy girl. She smiled up at Spike and shook her head
dismissively. "Just a draft. Got a chill there for a second. Sorry."
"Oh, I know," said Ida, "large house like this, we get some drafts
occasionally. Seems like no matter what
we do, there's a cold shaft of air popping up every once in a while. I like to look on the bright side, though,
it saves on cooling costs in the summer."
To cover her lingering embarrassment, Buffy leaned over the desk
and quickly filled out the necessary forms and accepted the proffered key to
their room.
"Now," Ida explained cheerily, "breakfast is served starting at 7
am, and it's covered in the cost of your stay.
We eat in the dining room at the end of the hall. Lunch and dinner are served as well, though
that is an extra charge. We also
provide room service, if you prefer to eat in private."
Spike liked that idea quite a lot. "Hey now, that sounds like a plan. Like the sound of that.
How do we get that set up, then?"
Ida gave a merry chuckle at his enthusiasm. "Just call down to the kitchen any time
after 6:30 am. The number is on the
phone in your room. I'll let you two go
get settled in, now. I'm sure you must
be tired, it's so late."
It was, in fact. Close to
midnight, actually, as Spike and Buffy had to wait until the sun set to leave
Sunnydale.
"Yes, we had to get a late start," explained Buffy, "and a shower
and a bed sound just about like my idea of heaven right now."
Grinning lasciviously, Spike whispered in the Slayer's ear,
"Sounds bloody good to me, too, luv – as long as you're with me…and naked."
A sharp elbow in his ribs, a quick good night to Ida, and the
vampire and the Slayer were carrying their bags up to the third floor of the
house, heading for the Dalton Suite.
Ida watched the obviously tired pair climb the stairs, a friendly
smile on her face. Such nice people,
she thought, and so cute when they're bickering like an old married
couple.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Spike started in on the young
woman walking in front of him.
"Ken…Smith? What the bloody hell
was that all about, then? Could have
done a good bit better than a nancy-boy poof of a name like Ken, you know."
Buffy grinned with a touch of mischief in her eyes but she didn't
bother turning around on the stairs to let him see it. "It's your own fault, fang face. Can't have a Barbie Dream House without
Ken."
The last flight was climbed with one disgruntled vampire grumbling
and complaining behind her. She
couldn't see the intense concentration he was giving to her rear end swaying
sexily in front of his face as she led the way to their room.
~~~~~~~~~~
"Wow. Talk about picture
perfect." Buffy was impressed. It was huge, truly a suite, with a bathroom
off the right and a huge four-poster bed in its own room on the left. The main area in front of them was set up
like cozy living quarters. Television,
couch, armchair, and several beautiful, antique-looking floor lamps were
grouped in a charming array.
"Now this is a bed!" Spike
went straight into the small bedroom and tossed his duffle bag on the
monstrosity that took up most of the floor space. "This here's the kind of bed you climb aboard and get lost
in. What say we hop up and spend some
time finding…each other?"
Buffy peaked into the room and sighed dramatically at the
one-track mind of the vampire. The bed
was beautiful, though, and Spike wasn't wrong about the need to climb into
it. The mattress was about four feet
off the floor, well over waist level for her and just at waist level for Spike.
"I have an idea, Spike.
Why don't you get lost?
I'll call home and let them know we got here, check in with Dawn, then
jump in the shower. If I'm in the mood,
and you're very lucky, I'll find you later."
Grabbing a pack of blood out of the bag before tossing it in the
corner, Spike shed his duster and threw it over one of the banisters of the
bed. Buffy just stared in mild reproach
as he leapt off the ground, landed in the middle of the bed, and sunk in
comfortably.
"Oh yeah. This is what I'm
talkin' 'bout. True comfort. Beats that lumpy thing you call a
mattress all to hell, lemme tell you."
"This from a vampire who does sleepy time on a cement slab in a
crypt. And there's nothing wrong with
my mattress, thank you very much!"
Spike grinned at Buffy's mock irritation. He was just pulling her chain and she knew
it, just as he knew she wasn't truly upset with him or his prurient suggestions
for passing time. They were used to
each other, and it was doubtful anything remotely resembling a relationship
between the two of them could be sustained if it wasn't for the sniping and the
teasing they did. It was too much of a
habit to even think about giving it up.
"Go on, luv, call the Watcher and the rest. Tell Little Bit good night for me. I'm just gonna lay here and enjoy a pint,
then catch some telly. Look," he
pointed out the large armoire against the wall and the television sitting on
top of it, "remote control and everythin'.
Maybe this place inn't so bad after all."
Buffy smiled wryly. "Such
a renaissance man. Give him a
television and a bed and he goes all soft and malleable-like."
"You do the responsibility gig.
Let me know before you head in for the froth and bubble, you'll find out
just how malleable I can be."
Laughing at his persistence, she left the room with a dismissive
wave, name calling over her shoulder.
"Beast."
"Shrew."
"Monster."
"Harpy."
The Slayer heard his rumbling chuckle follow her out into the
other room before the TV switched on.
He loved getting the last word.
Occasionally she let him have it.
He just got lucky that this time was one of those times. She was preoccupied with wanting to touch
base with her sister before it got any later.
Walking over to the small table next to the couch, she bent down
to pick up the phone when she felt another draft of frigid cold pour over
her. It froze her in her tracks. There was something…creepy about it. For the briefest of seconds, she thought she
saw her breath as she exhaled, so icy was the surrounding air.
Then, just as quick as it had come, it was gone. The temperature rose and it was once again
comfortably warm.
"Okay," she mumbled under her breath, "someone really needs to
take a serious look at the heating in this place, 'cuz penguin Buffy? Not a good."
Shaking off a mild case of the wiggins, she picked up the phone
and did an ET. She phoned home.
With her back to the door, Buffy didn't notice the glimmer of
movement hovering just off the floor in the far corner behind her. Nothing but the faintest shadow of color,
really, but it hung for a minute or two before drifting towards the
bedroom. Flying up towards the ceiling,
it seemed to pause long enough to check out the suite's other occupant.
Spike was in full vamp face, draining one of the many bags of
blood he brought with him on the trip.
So absorbed with whatever he was watching on television, he didn't
notice the intrusion.
It glowed a hot, angry red and shot up through the ceiling before
anyone noticed its presence. In a flash
it was gone, and the Slayer and the vampire had the suite to themselves for the
first time.
The conversation with Dawn and the gang had taken longer than she
had anticipated. Forty-five minutes
after picking up the phone she laid it back onto the cradle, still smiling in
gentle amusement at the antics Dawn had regaled her with. Gone five hours and already Xander had
gotten himself in some sort of trouble, trying to humor Dawn by learning some
dance steps to the latest all-the-rage boy band's newest video on MTV. Apparently, Grand Master Xan wasn't nearly
as coordinated as he'd like to think.
Drafts of icy badness completely forgotten, Buffy headed toward
the bedroom with a wide smile on her face.
Time to collect Spike for a little showery fun. Speaking to her family had reinvigorated her
and the weariness from the trip was nothing but a memory.
"Okay, I'm finished. You
want to join-"
Buffy was brought up short by the site that greeted her eyes when
she made it into the room. Sprawled out
on the bed, fast asleep, was Spike. She
noticed the empty bag of blood on the nightstand and the boots casually
discarded at the foot of the bed.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she couldn't help the tender smile
that tugged at the corners of her mouth.
And here I thought vampires were supposed to be creatures of the
night, she
thought, more amused than irritated.
Buffy was well aware that Spike had been up most of the day. Instead of sleeping in preparation of the
coming trip, he'd spent a couple of hours holed up with Dawn in the training
room at the shop.
He had taken it upon himself lately to work out with her, teaching
her some basic self defense moves that would serve her well if she ever had the
misfortune of coming up against one of his kind at night. Not that she was ever allowed to be
unchaperoned at night in Sunnydale, but Spike knew that fifteen year olds
usually find a way to get into trouble.
He told Buffy he wanted to make sure Dawn could handle herself if that
ever happened.
Buffy didn't have the heart to tell him no, he'd been so adorable
when he asked for permission. And it
had been so uncharacteristic of him to ask first. That he understood the importance of discussing any activity
having to do with her sister told Buffy that he was well aware of just how much
Dawn meant to her. There was comfort in
that. And confidence that he would
never let anything happen to Dawnie.
That went a long way with her.
Backing quietly out of the room, wanting to let him get some
sleep, she headed toward the bathroom.
She could always wake him up after he got a bit of rest, and she really
wanted that shower.
Charmed by the antique, claw-footed tub and matching sink, Buffy
disrobed in the bathroom, shivering slightly as the cool air slid over her bare
skin. She pulled the shower curtain
closed and turned on the water, testing it until it was just hot enough to give
a pleasant bite, not scalding enough to burn.
She liked long, hot showers that filled the bathroom with steam.
As she climbed into the tub, she couldn't help think back to the
events four months ago that brought her and Spike together after a year spent
pushing him away. She had even died in
the interim, but when she came back, the vampire was still there. He'd been helping out her friends and
protecting her sister in her absence.
Then, when she started patrolling again, he'd just picked up where he
left off, following her around. Except
this time, because of everything he did and everything he'd given up to help
her, she'd let him patrol with her.
He'd been so happy when she came back. She saw it. She ignored
it, honestly. And he never pushed. He never told her. Nor did he make any reference to loving her. The last indication that he gave her that he
still felt for her had been the night before she died, back at her house. But even without saying the words, or
stalking her like he had for so long, she knew it. She knew he loved her. It
was just…well…he was a vampire. And as
grateful as she was for his help, that was an obstacle that she just couldn't
seem to get past. No matter how good
looking and dependable said vampire turned out to be.
Funny, though, spending almost every night together for three
months, patrolling, fighting together, bickering back and forth, watching each
other's back, she started to see the vampire less and less and the man more and
more. He would talk to her; tell her
stories about his past. Not the
horrible ones, but the 'this is who I am' stories you tell to let someone into
your world. On the nights when
patrolling didn't turn up anything more serious than a wayward raccoon, they
could end up talking for hours. She
learned a lot about the vampire that had been an enemy for so long.
And when you start knowing someone, really knowing someone,
you can't help but see them in a different light than you ever did before. She started liking that new light. Plus, she'd found out that in a lot of ways,
they were more alike than she'd ever thought.
It was easy to forget that he was an evil killer once. One thing she was certain of, he wasn't that
same evil killer any more. And it had
nothing to do with the chip in his head, either.
Buffy had a theory. Once
Spike started to spend some 'quality time' with his 'happy meals on legs', he
had a harder and harder time of seeing them as a food source. It was kinda hard to eat your friends.
That's why the night they had been patrolling four months ago had
been such a big surprise. They found
three vampires in the cemetery and Buffy waded right in with her stake, fully
expecting Spike to do what he'd done every other night, wade in right next to
her and get with the dusting and busting.
But he hadn't. In fact, he'd
hopped up on top of a headstone and watched the show, calmly smoking a
cigarette as she fought for her life.
Buffy managed to stake the first vampire, but one of the other two
had picked her up and tossed her at Spike's feet. She had glared up at his nonchalant expression even as she was
jumping back to her feet.
"Spike, what the hell are you doing?"
The vampire just smiled at her and took another drag. "Enjoyin' the dance, pet."
Buffy was furious but didn't have time to give him the good being
killed that he deserved. She had her
hands full as it was. She snarled at
him as she ducked under one of the attacking vampire's swings. "Think you might want to lend a hand, here?"
"Why? Looks like you're
doin' just fine on your own."
The Slayer growled in frustration and pushed her stake home in
vampire number two. He dusted in a
shower of fine powder.
The last vampire was a big son of a gun, and he and Buffy went a
good five rounds before she finally sent him to the same hell she'd sent the
other two. Chest heaving, exhausted, as
angry as she'd ever been, she spun around to Spike. He was still sitting where he'd been since the beginning.
Tawny eyes flashed fire as she stalked over to him. The fact that he was just smiling at her in
genuine amusement did nothing to lighten her mood.
"You want to explain to me just what the hell that was all
about?" It was a vicious snarl of a
question that lashed out at him.
One casual shrug and a, "Dinn't feel much like fightin'," was
enough to push her over the edge and she popped him hard enough to send him
flying off his perch.
"Hey now!" Spike popped
up, clutching his abused nose. "None of
that."
"You're lucky I used my fist instead of my stake, Spike. Don't push your luck. What's with you? There some new 'kick back and relax while Buffy's in trouble'
plan I'm not aware of?"
"Oh, please. You weren't
in trouble, woman, and you bloody well know it. If you had been, I'd a joined in. You know that, too. I
wanted to watch you fight, so I did."
When she looked like she might just go for that stake after all, he
rushed to explain further. "Listen,
pet. You don't need me to protect
you. Sure, I watch your back, help you
when you need it, but you didn't need it tonight. You know it and I know it.
If there'd been four, I woulda been right in there with you. Three you can handle. I like your moves, Summers, felt like
watchin' you use 'em. No reason to
stake me for it."
Buffy had been completely thrown and totally confused. "Wait.
So you're telling me that you didn't fight because you knew I could
handle myself."
"Well…yeah. You're the
bloody Slayer, aren't you? You can
handle yourself just fine."
She was the Slayer, all right, but she'd never had anyone sit back
and watch her fight just because he knew she could handle herself. With Riley it had been against his
upbringing or something, letting her take care of herself. And Angel…well…no need to go there. This was new. Really new. A guy that
trusted her enough to let her fight her own battles, even though he loved her
enough to want to make sure she didn't get hurt. Wow.
That was…nice.
That's when it clicked for her.
That's the minute she knew she had feelings for Spike. And she surprised the hell out of him when
she stormed over to him. He dropped
back in a protective stance until she grabbed him by the duster and pulled him
into a hot, heavy kiss that left her panting and him weak in the knees.
After the passionate lip-lock, she turned her huge eyes up to his
stunned blue ones and smiled. "Thank
you."
He'd tried to come up with something to say, but the words just tumbled
out of his mouth in garbled disarray.
She'd had to silence him with another kiss. When he finally started to get the message…and realized that
things had just changed drastically for both of them…he was able to get in a
few good kisses of his own.
After that night, they'd spent a lot of time together – not all of
it patrolling.
Buffy climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her
body. The flood of memories had her
grinning like a cat warming itself in a sunbeam. She hadn't told Spike, but there was a very good reason she'd
wanted a nice quiet place away from everything this weekend. She wanted to tell him something. She was finally going to tell him that she
loved him.
A dance club in San Diego just didn't have the right atmosphere
for such a dramatic and momentous announcement.
Grabbing a hand towel off the towel rack next to the sink, Buffy
wiped it across the mirror in front of her.
She gasped in surprised horror when she saw the figure standing behind
her in the mirror's reflection.
Heart pounding, Buffy spun around. She was alone. Oh
God. In the mirror…she could have
sworn. She thought she saw…
Goosebumps were prickling her skin and she shivered. Slowly turning back to the mirror, almost
afraid of what she would see, Buffy finally looked at the reflection.
Blood. Everywhere. Dripping down her throat from a wound on her
neck. Saturating her towel. Her eyes flew wide, she tried to breathe,
but the waterlogged air couldn't get into her lungs fast enough. Pale.
She was so pale. She looked…she
looked dead. He's going to kill
you. That's what he does. The words popped into her brain and hung
there, like the mist in the room, before slowly dissipating. She was so cold. Icy cold. Kill you
like he killed me. Evil. He's evil.
Devil's spawn.
Buffy's last thought was an automatic denial to the perversity of
the images and the words in her head before her eyes rolled back and she
collapsed in a heap on the ceramic tile of the bathroom floor.
~~~~~~~~~~
Spike jolted awake.
Something wasn't right. His
predator senses were on full alert and his game face emerged. Flicking a quick glance at the clock, he
noted that he'd been asleep for almost two hours. Going on pure instinct, he leapt from the bed and landed in a
fight-ready crouch. Gold eyes scanned
the room but came up empty.
Where was Buffy?
That's when he noticed it.
The scent. Blood. Slayer's blood. He could tell, there was no mistaking it. Panic clutched at his stomach as he followed
his senses out of the bedroom and across to the closed bathroom door. Not bothering to knock, he burst into the
room and started in surprise.
Buffy lay in a heap on the floor, towel wrapped around her, blood
pooling on the tile from a wound on her forehead. Noticing the smudge of red on the sink, he figured she must have
fallen and slammed her head hard enough to knock herself out.
He knelt at her side, worried and confused. He could hear her heart beating, slow and
strong, and he turned her over on her back.
"Buffy, wake up, girl." He
shook her gently. When she didn't
respond right away, he leapt up and grabbed a washcloth off the rack and ran
some cool water over it. Pressing it to
the gash at her hairline, he tried again.
"Buffy, come on now. Time
to rise and shine, pet!"
Her eyelids fluttered and finally opened, but she almost screamed
when she looked up at him. It made him
jump, and then he realized he still had the bumpy forehead and fang thing going
on. Shaking it off, he tried to comfort
her.
"Shh now, luv. It's just
me. Good ole Spike. You know I won't hurt you. Couldn't even if I wanted to, what with
being neutered and all."
Buffy sat up so fast her head spun and she reached frantically for
her neck. Spike watched in confusion as
she pulled herself to her feet and stared hard into the mirror. She looked like she was checking out her
throat for wounds, but it was her head that was bleeding. It didn't make sense.
When the girl sunk down on the toilet in relief, he cautiously got
off his knees and crossed to her. She
was shaking. Trembling so violently her
teeth were chattering together. One
huge tear dropped from her eye and traced its way down her right cheek. He moved to intercept its path and gently
wiped it away.
"Here now, are you alright?"
Looking up at him with frightened eyes she said, "No, Spike. Alright is nowhere near where I am right
now. Something is wrong with this
place. There's something here, in the
house, and I'm not talking cold drafts.
It…I don't know what it did…attacked me, I think."
Spike could see she was serious and scared. He didn't know what had happened…yet…but he
believed her.
"Well, we won't be givin' it a second chance. Come on," he lifted her into his arms and
carried her toward the bedroom, "lets get you into some clothes, then you can
tell me what happened."
So much for the bloody vacation, he thought, and
then he grew very grim. Whatever it
is, its got one mightily pissed off vampire to deal with now. And deal with me it will.
His arms closed possessively around the young woman in his
arms. They'd beat it together, just
like they did everything else.
TBC
