Chapter 8: A Dangerous Visit
Buffy never bothered to knock when entering Spike's crypt. Usually, his door was open anyway, but she loved the crash and bang she made with her regular entrance. Thrusting open the large, heavy door, her usual habit was to briskly stride up to his bed, where he was always waiting, grinning in a mad spirit of desire, and feverishly peel off her clothes as she quickly straddled him. It warmed her body just to think about it. But today she gingerly opened the door, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. It hardly mattered, though, since she found him asleep in bed. Creeping quietly, she crossed the room and stood, conflicted, beside his bed. He looked so peaceful, Buffy thought. So deceivingly sweet. The way he always looked after they had both been satiated and collapsed into each others' arms. Hesitant at first, she slowly reached out her hand to stroke his hair and neck, his back facing her. His eyes whipped open when he felt her feather light touch and he tensed with expectation. He then felt her hand drop. Sighing, he pretended to roll over in his sleep so that he was now facing her. Opening his eyes gingerly, then looking at her with mock surprise, he jumped slightly. "Oh it's you," he said coldly.
His curt words stung. "Yeah, it's me." She backed away from his bed. Now that he finally had a chance to look at her, his eyes drifted all over her body, scanning her skimpy outfit. He gulped slowly. She could feel his eyes piercing her skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps where he stared. She could feel the growing tension between them that usually was relieved by her jumping into his arms and tried to embarassedly avoid him by taking a feet steps back. She let him get out of bed and put some clothes on, her back turned to him.
"What do you want Slayer? Let me guess, hell hath overtaken Sunnydale again and the Scoobies aren't up for the job, so you come a runnin' to me. At least tell me that the whelp was fatally wounded in action."
"It's Willow," her voice hardened in response to his bitter tone. "Rack has got to her again."
Spike whirled to face her. "She hasn't hurt Nibblet again has she?" he asked angrily. "Because if she has, by God, she's done for."
"Dawn's fine. Willow is the one in trouble. Rack has evidently been able to find a way to take over her body."
"Oh that," Spike said, reaching for a cigarette. "Yeah, that's kind of Rack's bartering price. People get a magic fix from him, he takes over their bodies. Not a very good bargain is it?"
Buffy gaped at him. "You knew about this and you didn't tell me?"
Spike shrugged as he took a deep drag. "Well I kind of forgot about it, luv. I haven't heard about the likes of Rack for awhile. Besides . . ." He paused and gave a penetrating look at Buffy, "I had other stuff on my mind."
Buffy shifted her arms awkwardly. "Oh . . . . .Well he said he would be back and we can't let that happen. We have to find Rack and stop him before he hurts Willow again."
"Yeah, I figured that was the plan." Spike sighed. "Well wait a bit Slayer, lemme get m'things."
Soon the both of them were prowling around a dark, ratty-looking back alley, miles of silence between them. They hadn't spoken ever since leaving the crypt and barely made eye contact. And both of them felt about ready to explode from the tension.
"So . . ." Buffy started softly, in a desperate attempt at conversation, "How have you been Spike?"
Spike let out a sharp, frustrated chuckle. He walked away from her quickly then turned again. "How have I been? What do you care?" His voice brimmed with hostility.
Buffy stood with unease. "I care, Spike," she said, her fists clenched.
"Do you? Cause I recall hearing you spout out exactly how much you don't care."
Buffy grimaced at her own words. "I . . ."
"And you don't care because you think I'm twisted." Spike already knew this to be true, but he couldn't help himself from throwing her own words back in her face.
"I didn't say that," Buffy said slowly, shaking her head. "You're twisting my words."
"Oh I'm sorry, luv, I forgot. It's our relationship that's twisted. But that sparkling metaphor's not even necessary right, because we don't have a relationship do we?"
"Right . . ." Buffy said, suddenly very confused.
"So no need for the pleasantries, Slayer. You can save that for your 'relationships'." Spike resumed walking at a brisk pace and taking deep drags from the stubble of tobacco he had left.
Buffy resumed walking, but her anger got the best of her. After a little continued silence, she cut back to the conversation sharply. "You know, I try to be nice to you, knowing how anti-social you are, which is completely understandable, you being the biggest unliving buttmunch known to man."
Spike snorted. "Oh right. Because that's been such a habitual trait between us. Niceness. Bloody soddin' politeness"
"It could be," Buffy pointed out insistently. "It could be if you tried to be less . . . you."
Spike smiled crookedly. "Does it even matter Slayer? Forcing ourselves to be nice to each other? You and I know it's simply business between us, kill the big baddies, protect the world, preserve it for the likes of shiny happy people and their daisy flower beds and their friggin' puppies?"
Buffy winced at his obvious tartness. "I don't even know why I try. Or why I even come to you. You're more a pain in the ass than any crazed warlock."
"Fine then, why don't you try to find the invisible, undetectable, fatally dangerous warlock's coven your bloody self then," Spike snapped, walking away from her.
Buffy sighed exasperatedly. "Real mature Spike. This is about Willow, remember?"
"Not my bloody problem pet. Not my fault the Wiccan's been pushin' the magick like it's chronic."
"What about Dawn?" Buffy challenged him. "Would you want something to happen to her again? Because it could if Rack gets to Willow again."
A look of tired knowledge passed over his face. "Yeah," he said haggardly.
Buffy felt her heart pierce briefly as she stared at Spike, filled with devoted love for her sister. He would die a thousand deaths for Dawn. And for Buffy herself, as well. Buffy knew this and often pondered on this. For such a soulless, irritating bag of bones, Spike was everlastingly loyal. It had complicated things so much. It would be so much easier if he hadn't made it clear that Buffy could depend on him. She wouldn't be feeling this burning spot of guilt towards him as she did right now. "So . . . let's keep going," she reminded him softly. They resumed walking, falling back into silence.
"Wait." Spike stopped abruptly and stiffened as they passed another alleyway. "I think I feel something."
"What? Rack's coven?"
"Ssshhh." Spike cautiously edged toward an open space in front of maintenance building. He stuck his arm out in front of him and poked the air around him. Buffy watched as the air turned jelly-like and wavered. "This is it," Spike said, motioning towards Buffy. "C'mon." He started slowly towards a door in the wall. "Get in back of me," he hissed.
"And we're hiding from who? The big bad, demonically evil . . . janitor?" Buffy looked at the sign on the door that read "Janitorial Entrance".
"It's just a cover Slayer," Spike whispered menacingly. "So shut your gob and watch your back, cause places like these are plenty sketchy."
"And seriously lacking in interior decorating sensibilities." Buffy wrinkled her nose at the ratty, greasy-stained furniture, scattered debris and inherent filth. "Where'd they get their home fashions? The Mastercraft and Interior Store of Ugly?"
"Never said Rack was a man of style. Just incredibly dangerous. So save your girlish criticisms for another day while I check this place out."
It was apparent that it was Rack's floating coven. Outside, there was a small waiting room where a few scattered addicts curled in fetal positions and writhed in pain. Others sat, shaking and convulsing uncontrollably. Buffy and Spike walked around gingerly, not knowing what to do.
"I guess we just knock?" Buffy said, motioning to the ominous closed door where muffled screams and moans could be heard behind. "Hmmmm. Doesn't sound like a barrel of monkeys in there but I'll bite." She walked up to it and was poised to rap on the door.
"I'm first!!" A gangly, shaky, bug-eyed guy grabbed Buffy's arm and desperately tried to push her away from the door. "I've been waiting all night to see him, you can't just cut ahead, Blondie!"
"Here now, I think you better get your grubby hands off the lady," Spike said fiercely, pushing the guy off violently. "Youch!" A stinging pain erupted in his head. "O come on!" he yelled, gripping his skull. "That was bloody nothing! This goddamn chip!"
"All night? We can't wait that long," Buffy interrupted him. "Who knows what he could be doing in there. It's time to take some Buffy-like initiative." Striding up to the door, she quickly and easily kicked it open.
The goggled-eye guy stepped back. "Geez, what is she on? Whatever it is, I want some."
"Anyone home?" Buffy asked brightly as she peered past the door. Two dazed girls, their pupils dilated to the color of night stumbled out of a sumptuously decorated room. Rack sat lounged on a low, silken bed, resting amongst several pillows. "Hmm. Now I kinda get why people are in such a rush to see you. Not much to look at it in that other piss-hole of a room, but here---"
"Silence!" Rack commanded, holding up one hand commandingly. Grinning he got up from the bed and walked slowly towards her. "I didn't think you would be able to find me." He glanced over towards Spike. "But I suppose you were aided by your . . ." He sniffed the air around Spike before looking back at him. "Vampire boyfriend."
"On I'm not her boyfriend," Spike explained seriously before Buffy could interject. "I wouldn't mind, but she's not haven't it."
Buffy shook her head in disgust. Here we are, and he's complaining about our 'relationship'. "Shut up, Spike," she snapped. She turned to face Rack. "Look, you know why we're here. Willow's my friend, you're a freaky-assed warlock and I would really appreciate if you could cut that pesky habit of possessing her body."
Rack chuckled at her rapid-fire explanation. "You speak succinctly, but you're not very convincing. "Besides, it's not really your place to tell me how to conduct business. She came to me, seeking help and I only ask for my due reward."
"Yeah, well maybe you should have clued her in on what it said in the fine print. It's too bad, because now you'll have to deal with me. Not a lawyer, mind you, but I'm just as litigious . . . and I pack a mean roundhouse." She immediately jumped towards him and tried to swing a rousing uppercut. Rack avoided her by melting into a cloudy mist before forming again together on the other side of the room. She sprinted to the other side of the room and tried to lunge upon him again but rammed into the wall as he dissolved again.
"Very strong. Very quick. Very stupid." Rack continued to chuckle menacingly as he formed once more next to her. "You thought you could come here and try to bully me out of getting only what I deserve from Willow? What kind of tragically foolish person are you?"
"The kind that kills bad demons dead. Even tricky ones like you that transubstantiate. That's just an old parlor trick y'know. Ol' Dracula thought he had me fooled with that one. Showed him good."
Rack eyes gleamed with fascination. "You're the slayer."
"Yup. I guess that accounts for my apparent flaming stupidity. Oh yeah, and my super-human strength." She launched at him again, catching him by surprise for a moment. She gripped him tightly but he dissolved into cloudy particles once more.
"Dammit! How about you stop doing that. It's going to take a lot longer that way." Buffy wiped her hands to her skirt in frustration.
Rack appeared again, back on the bed. "So you're the slayer. I can't believe I have the pleasure." He turned back to Spike who tensed, waiting to find the opportunity to attack him. "And you're a vampire. How deliciously maudlin. Star-crossed lovers. That's terribly romantic."
"That's it. You take over my best friend's body, you terrorize my sister. And now you demean my private life. Dinnertime says you're done, man-witch." Buffy glared at him as she rushed up to him once, but stopped abruptly when she came within inches of him, afraid he would dissipate again. He smiled devilishly. He opened his jacket baring his chest.
"What are you waiting for? Do it. Hit me. I'll not run." Rack hissed and suddenly Buffy could see a swirl of chaotic colors, mixing within his pupils. She suddenly felt light, yet deeply drowsy. She watched, fixated by his eyes and holding on to them as she was rendered motionless. He chuckled as he gazed intently at the spellbound Buffy and backed away from her a few feet. "I really can't believe my luck. Running into the Slayer like this really helps move my plan along. First step: kill the Slayer."
"Not bloody likely," Spike snarled. "You'd have to get through me first." Roaring, he rushed to attack, but Rack caught him by the throat and lifted him feet from the ground. He rumbled with laughter as he squeezed tighter, lifting a wooden stake with his other arm and lunging it slightly into him, inches away from his heart. Spike howled with pain. Rack thrust the stake back out and raised it over his head to lunge again, but by this time, Buffy kicked the stake out of his hand, punching him in the chin.
"Look I just told you. Hypnosis? Just parlor tricks. And I'm a restless chick. I DON'T-LIKE-PARLOR-TRICKS." She punched him, accenting on each syllable. She had backed him against a wall and whipped out a large dagger, ready to finish him off. Spike rushed to him also, ready to beat the living crap out of him as well. Raising the blinding knife over her head, Buffy was abruptly caught by Rack who held fast to her wrist. Spike, who had rammed his fist against the side of Rack's face was promptly gripped by Rack as well. He forced their hands upon his chest as they stared, maddeningly and alarmed at each other. Suddenly a flash of light threw all three heads back and they felt a powerful, painful force pulse within them. Although Spike and Buffy limped against Rack's chest, he held the tight and explored their minds.