Day Two
Tonight was our first patrol without Buffy. Somebody upstairs must be looking out for this lot, 'cause like I said during that Thanksgiving a back in '99, 'This is the crack team that foiled my every plan?'. There was hardly a mugger to be seen, much less a real nasty. Red still hasn't finished working on the bot. Apparently putting the thing's head back on is a lot harder than it looks. So, I patrolled with Watcher and the Whelp. Maybe I should have stayed with Nibblet, but Glinda swore to me that she'd be safe with her an' Red. She's probably right, given that they are major league witches an' all, but I still worry. They are still human after all. They tend to scare easy. Case in point-the Whelp jumped damn near four feet in the air at every shadow, every sudden gust of wind, and every time I came back from scouting ahead. The git's expecting to see me, and he still comes close to losing bladder control when I appear out of the shadows. He tells me to 'cut that out!', but I can't help it that, being a vampire, I'm a natural predator. This is when Watcher pops up with-
"Supernatural, Spike. Vampires are-are s-supernatural predators. N-n- nature has nothing to-to do with.."
"Whatever, let's jus' get this over with. I need to get to sleep." Oh yeah, sleep. I'm still hoping that I'll have that dream again. Where I save the day.
Finally, I get back to my crypt. Clement, one of my kitten poker buddies that I DO NOT let the Scooby's find out about, has dropped off the stuff I asked him to pick up. More furniture, lamps, a writing desk, new bed and a wardrobe. The guy even moved it all into the lower level, exactly where I wanted everything. Decent bloke, for a demon with about six feet too much skin on his frame. But, hey, it's good for hiding cards. Me an' him love fleecing Ol' Teeth and his flunkies. It's almost too easy, an' since Clem's in for the felines, I get a good payoff at the end of the night. Well, good enough to keep me in blood, bourbon and smokes. The big stuff comes from the quid I hustle off of the fraternity lugs at the Bronze playing pool, and nicking off the deadbeats at the lowlife bars. It's a decent living, for a guy who doesn't need to pay for amenities, like cable (spliced off the main line), water (tapped the city's main line), electricity (see water), or air conditioning (Undead, don't really need it). Would be nice to have a real WC though, with a shower. Maybe I can get the Whelp to do a little pro bono. Riiiiight.
I arrange everything how I want it, and settle into bed, dead tired, pardon the pun. I toss and turn for a bit, then drift off.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hmmm, this is different from last night. I'm at Doc's place, with the Whelp. Interesting place to jump in at, what with the retrieved box and the sword in the chest.
"What do we got?" He's referring to the box. I know what's in here.
"Something worth dying for", I reply, looking down at the sod. This is where we leave, but I won't let it happen like this again. I walk back over to Doc's so-called corpse and whisper, "I know you're still alive." Suddenly, his eyes pop open. They go all swirly black, like Red's do when she workin' major mojo. Then he just rises up, no bending knees or rolling over to get to his feet, he's just-up.
He smiles THAT STUPID GRIN as he says, "Sometimes a person just won't stay dead, huh?! Really makes you cranky sometimes." At that comment, he pulls the sword from his chest and its fightin' time again. I throw the box to Xander as I stumble back towards the fireplace, trying to find some sort of weapon to use against Doc. Xander stands there like the Special Ed case I always knew he was.
"Get out of here!! They need that box more 'n me!" He doesn't need another clue. He bolts. Finally, fun time. I just wrapped my hand around a weapon I have had some lovely experience with. A fire poker. I can feel that old school gleam in my eyes as I regress in my mind to the day I beat the bloody hell out of Angelus with one of these. Wanker never saw it comin'. Neither will Doc.
He lunges at me, sword over his head as he goes for a downward slice, hoping to cleave me in two. I dodge quite easily and begin to bash his skull in. Maybe that stab wound hurt him more than I thought, 'cause he ain't matchin' me. Doesn't take long before he's on the floor, a quivering mess of flesh, guts and gristle. Exhausted, I drop the poker. I slide against the wall, gathering myself. Then I decide to make sure the pillock can't come back. I separate what's left of his head from his body, throw it into the fire, then I carve out his heart and do the same. Once the heart hits fire, the meat sack begins to quiver and spasm, then relaxes and disintegrates. Scratch one flunky.
I make it back to the Magic Box to discover that the Slayer's back in the world of the non-catatonic. Watcher has read the book in the box through and through. There's only one conclusion he can come up with: If the portal opens, Dawn has to get iced to close it. Slayer doesn't like that option.
Things pretty well go according to rote here. We argue, and plan, and argue some more. I get in a real good jab at the Whelp, callin' him a glorified bricklayer and he can't match. Swell bowler? Look at me quiver in my boots. Buffy breaks it up, tellin' me to shut my gob and follow her. Then it's back to her place, where she lets me back in and I make my promise. Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight. She goes to change, so the bot can where her clothes, the clothes Glory's seen her in already. I already know that the Dimwitted Bitch God won't have a clue. I stop her. "I know you'll never love me", I say, catching her attention. "I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that's.." I can't finish, but she knows, even if it's not the same words. "Get your stuff, I'll be here."
The attack goes on like it should, 'cept there's no Doc to menace Dawn. Red an' Glinda clear us a hole in the loony brigade and we all charge once more. Apparently the crazies have no real will to fight when Glory's as beat up as she is now. I let the others go up to untie Dawn. Giles goes to follow me, but I stop him. "Go get Dawn", I tell him, with just a hint of menace in my voice. He starts to say something, but stops. We look into each others' eyes. He sees what I plan to do, 'cause it's exactly what he plans. Ripper surges to the front for a moment, then Giles comes back. I tell him, "It should be me. She doesn't need to see you do it. She admires you too much to ever need to think of you as a killer." You're a killer. That's what crazy Glinda said to Giles before we left. Guess maybe her looniness made her a little clairvoyant, like Dru. Figures.
He gets my drift, though. Heads up to free Dawn like a good little Scooby. I head over to Buffy and Glory. Oh, this is simply delicious. Slayer's got the Hell Bitch on the ropes, I knew that, but seein' it from a distance and seein' it up close an' personal like are two completely different things. For one thing, Glory's a bloody mess. Literally. Blood's pouring out of every hole in her face, not to mention a few new ones too, courtesy of Buffy Anne Summers and Olaf the Troll's God Hammer. Buffy's not even bleedin' from the few superficial cuts she does have, and like she just said, her arms not even tired. Few more blows that would've pulped even the toughest vamp, an' Glory's floored. Buffy keeps it up though, goin' to town on the skank's face like she was hammering in a fence pole. Suddenly, she stops her attack, and I see why. Glory's out of juice. Ben's back, and he bears all the same wounds as Glory did. Interesting. They are tied together on a physical level. What hurts him, a human, hurts Glory, a God, and vice versa. A plan takes shape in my mind. The two exchange a few word, and now Buffy's scramblin' up the stairs for her rendezvous with kid sis. The boy just lies there, bleeding. It's about all he can do.
"I guess we're stuck with each other, huh baby?" he basically says to himself. I sweep in from the shadows, hovering over him like a vulture until I kneel down to his left. I appraise his condition. It's bad, but he'll live. Can't have that.
"Painful, isn't it?" I say, remembering that that was exactly what I said to Angel after beating him down with that trusty fire poker.
"Need a..a minute. She could've killed me", he says.
"Bollocks. Slayer's a genuine real deal bona fide superhero. She doesn't kill people, just the nasties out there. She's better than us."
"Us?"
"Yeah. See, I'm a vampire. Evil and all that. I do what I do now because I love her, but the truth is that no matter how much she treats me like the man I want to be for her, in the end, I am a monster. Like you."
"Me?"
"Oh yeah, mate. I've got you sussed out. Glory's a part of you, and you, Glory. The way I figure, having a Hell God woven into your very essence, soul AND body, that makes you not quite..human." My game face slips on as I dive in for the kill. Huh. What do you know? I was right. Doesn't hurt a bit. As I drain the wanker of his very life, I can feel Glory tryin' to come back through, to try and stop me from killin' them both. Too late, bitch. Ben shudders a bit, almost morphs into Glory, and dies. I did it for her. I hope she realizes that. It's not like I can hide the fact that his body's drained of blood. She'll know it was me. But maybe, just maybe, she'll see this as my gift to her, to make up for all the horrible things I've done to her. Maybe.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
My alarm goes off. 2:35 PM. I roll out of bed as this latest dream begins to fade from my memory. I shake off the last vestiges of sleep and go bird bath in my homemade sink. I head for the sewer entrance, remembering what Watcher told me before I left for the night. That Red an' Glinda were going on some sort of shopping expedition to find the parts needed for the bot, that Whelp had a double shift at his construction site, and that Anya and he were going to be busy with cataloguing all of his precious library, so someone needed to stay with Dawn. If you read between the lines, like I do so well, you get that none of them want to be around Nibblet right now. 'Cause they all know that if they had half a chance, they'd have killed her, Buffy's wrath be damned. Dawn's not real, they probably rationalized in their heads. It's not fair that this fake person gets to walk around breathing while Buffy's six feet under. Buffy, who was their real family, unlike Dawn, whose presence in their memories was implanted by some meddling monks. It's not how they really feel, though. It's just that with Buffy so soon gone, they can't accept what happened and move on. Not like I'm doing such a good job of it, but I have one advantage that they don't: I made a promise to a lady.
Till the end of the world.
Tonight was our first patrol without Buffy. Somebody upstairs must be looking out for this lot, 'cause like I said during that Thanksgiving a back in '99, 'This is the crack team that foiled my every plan?'. There was hardly a mugger to be seen, much less a real nasty. Red still hasn't finished working on the bot. Apparently putting the thing's head back on is a lot harder than it looks. So, I patrolled with Watcher and the Whelp. Maybe I should have stayed with Nibblet, but Glinda swore to me that she'd be safe with her an' Red. She's probably right, given that they are major league witches an' all, but I still worry. They are still human after all. They tend to scare easy. Case in point-the Whelp jumped damn near four feet in the air at every shadow, every sudden gust of wind, and every time I came back from scouting ahead. The git's expecting to see me, and he still comes close to losing bladder control when I appear out of the shadows. He tells me to 'cut that out!', but I can't help it that, being a vampire, I'm a natural predator. This is when Watcher pops up with-
"Supernatural, Spike. Vampires are-are s-supernatural predators. N-n- nature has nothing to-to do with.."
"Whatever, let's jus' get this over with. I need to get to sleep." Oh yeah, sleep. I'm still hoping that I'll have that dream again. Where I save the day.
Finally, I get back to my crypt. Clement, one of my kitten poker buddies that I DO NOT let the Scooby's find out about, has dropped off the stuff I asked him to pick up. More furniture, lamps, a writing desk, new bed and a wardrobe. The guy even moved it all into the lower level, exactly where I wanted everything. Decent bloke, for a demon with about six feet too much skin on his frame. But, hey, it's good for hiding cards. Me an' him love fleecing Ol' Teeth and his flunkies. It's almost too easy, an' since Clem's in for the felines, I get a good payoff at the end of the night. Well, good enough to keep me in blood, bourbon and smokes. The big stuff comes from the quid I hustle off of the fraternity lugs at the Bronze playing pool, and nicking off the deadbeats at the lowlife bars. It's a decent living, for a guy who doesn't need to pay for amenities, like cable (spliced off the main line), water (tapped the city's main line), electricity (see water), or air conditioning (Undead, don't really need it). Would be nice to have a real WC though, with a shower. Maybe I can get the Whelp to do a little pro bono. Riiiiight.
I arrange everything how I want it, and settle into bed, dead tired, pardon the pun. I toss and turn for a bit, then drift off.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hmmm, this is different from last night. I'm at Doc's place, with the Whelp. Interesting place to jump in at, what with the retrieved box and the sword in the chest.
"What do we got?" He's referring to the box. I know what's in here.
"Something worth dying for", I reply, looking down at the sod. This is where we leave, but I won't let it happen like this again. I walk back over to Doc's so-called corpse and whisper, "I know you're still alive." Suddenly, his eyes pop open. They go all swirly black, like Red's do when she workin' major mojo. Then he just rises up, no bending knees or rolling over to get to his feet, he's just-up.
He smiles THAT STUPID GRIN as he says, "Sometimes a person just won't stay dead, huh?! Really makes you cranky sometimes." At that comment, he pulls the sword from his chest and its fightin' time again. I throw the box to Xander as I stumble back towards the fireplace, trying to find some sort of weapon to use against Doc. Xander stands there like the Special Ed case I always knew he was.
"Get out of here!! They need that box more 'n me!" He doesn't need another clue. He bolts. Finally, fun time. I just wrapped my hand around a weapon I have had some lovely experience with. A fire poker. I can feel that old school gleam in my eyes as I regress in my mind to the day I beat the bloody hell out of Angelus with one of these. Wanker never saw it comin'. Neither will Doc.
He lunges at me, sword over his head as he goes for a downward slice, hoping to cleave me in two. I dodge quite easily and begin to bash his skull in. Maybe that stab wound hurt him more than I thought, 'cause he ain't matchin' me. Doesn't take long before he's on the floor, a quivering mess of flesh, guts and gristle. Exhausted, I drop the poker. I slide against the wall, gathering myself. Then I decide to make sure the pillock can't come back. I separate what's left of his head from his body, throw it into the fire, then I carve out his heart and do the same. Once the heart hits fire, the meat sack begins to quiver and spasm, then relaxes and disintegrates. Scratch one flunky.
I make it back to the Magic Box to discover that the Slayer's back in the world of the non-catatonic. Watcher has read the book in the box through and through. There's only one conclusion he can come up with: If the portal opens, Dawn has to get iced to close it. Slayer doesn't like that option.
Things pretty well go according to rote here. We argue, and plan, and argue some more. I get in a real good jab at the Whelp, callin' him a glorified bricklayer and he can't match. Swell bowler? Look at me quiver in my boots. Buffy breaks it up, tellin' me to shut my gob and follow her. Then it's back to her place, where she lets me back in and I make my promise. Till the end of the world. Even if that happens to be tonight. She goes to change, so the bot can where her clothes, the clothes Glory's seen her in already. I already know that the Dimwitted Bitch God won't have a clue. I stop her. "I know you'll never love me", I say, catching her attention. "I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And that's.." I can't finish, but she knows, even if it's not the same words. "Get your stuff, I'll be here."
The attack goes on like it should, 'cept there's no Doc to menace Dawn. Red an' Glinda clear us a hole in the loony brigade and we all charge once more. Apparently the crazies have no real will to fight when Glory's as beat up as she is now. I let the others go up to untie Dawn. Giles goes to follow me, but I stop him. "Go get Dawn", I tell him, with just a hint of menace in my voice. He starts to say something, but stops. We look into each others' eyes. He sees what I plan to do, 'cause it's exactly what he plans. Ripper surges to the front for a moment, then Giles comes back. I tell him, "It should be me. She doesn't need to see you do it. She admires you too much to ever need to think of you as a killer." You're a killer. That's what crazy Glinda said to Giles before we left. Guess maybe her looniness made her a little clairvoyant, like Dru. Figures.
He gets my drift, though. Heads up to free Dawn like a good little Scooby. I head over to Buffy and Glory. Oh, this is simply delicious. Slayer's got the Hell Bitch on the ropes, I knew that, but seein' it from a distance and seein' it up close an' personal like are two completely different things. For one thing, Glory's a bloody mess. Literally. Blood's pouring out of every hole in her face, not to mention a few new ones too, courtesy of Buffy Anne Summers and Olaf the Troll's God Hammer. Buffy's not even bleedin' from the few superficial cuts she does have, and like she just said, her arms not even tired. Few more blows that would've pulped even the toughest vamp, an' Glory's floored. Buffy keeps it up though, goin' to town on the skank's face like she was hammering in a fence pole. Suddenly, she stops her attack, and I see why. Glory's out of juice. Ben's back, and he bears all the same wounds as Glory did. Interesting. They are tied together on a physical level. What hurts him, a human, hurts Glory, a God, and vice versa. A plan takes shape in my mind. The two exchange a few word, and now Buffy's scramblin' up the stairs for her rendezvous with kid sis. The boy just lies there, bleeding. It's about all he can do.
"I guess we're stuck with each other, huh baby?" he basically says to himself. I sweep in from the shadows, hovering over him like a vulture until I kneel down to his left. I appraise his condition. It's bad, but he'll live. Can't have that.
"Painful, isn't it?" I say, remembering that that was exactly what I said to Angel after beating him down with that trusty fire poker.
"Need a..a minute. She could've killed me", he says.
"Bollocks. Slayer's a genuine real deal bona fide superhero. She doesn't kill people, just the nasties out there. She's better than us."
"Us?"
"Yeah. See, I'm a vampire. Evil and all that. I do what I do now because I love her, but the truth is that no matter how much she treats me like the man I want to be for her, in the end, I am a monster. Like you."
"Me?"
"Oh yeah, mate. I've got you sussed out. Glory's a part of you, and you, Glory. The way I figure, having a Hell God woven into your very essence, soul AND body, that makes you not quite..human." My game face slips on as I dive in for the kill. Huh. What do you know? I was right. Doesn't hurt a bit. As I drain the wanker of his very life, I can feel Glory tryin' to come back through, to try and stop me from killin' them both. Too late, bitch. Ben shudders a bit, almost morphs into Glory, and dies. I did it for her. I hope she realizes that. It's not like I can hide the fact that his body's drained of blood. She'll know it was me. But maybe, just maybe, she'll see this as my gift to her, to make up for all the horrible things I've done to her. Maybe.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
My alarm goes off. 2:35 PM. I roll out of bed as this latest dream begins to fade from my memory. I shake off the last vestiges of sleep and go bird bath in my homemade sink. I head for the sewer entrance, remembering what Watcher told me before I left for the night. That Red an' Glinda were going on some sort of shopping expedition to find the parts needed for the bot, that Whelp had a double shift at his construction site, and that Anya and he were going to be busy with cataloguing all of his precious library, so someone needed to stay with Dawn. If you read between the lines, like I do so well, you get that none of them want to be around Nibblet right now. 'Cause they all know that if they had half a chance, they'd have killed her, Buffy's wrath be damned. Dawn's not real, they probably rationalized in their heads. It's not fair that this fake person gets to walk around breathing while Buffy's six feet under. Buffy, who was their real family, unlike Dawn, whose presence in their memories was implanted by some meddling monks. It's not how they really feel, though. It's just that with Buffy so soon gone, they can't accept what happened and move on. Not like I'm doing such a good job of it, but I have one advantage that they don't: I made a promise to a lady.
Till the end of the world.