Part 7: The Correct Appliance of a Shotgun
#
It was a very Spike thing to do, they all agreed afterwards.
The bleached vampire had always been an odd mixture of base cunning and unpredictable aggression. At one moment he would make an intricate plan to search the Sunnydale sewer system for the Gem of Amara, employing dozens of vampires and moving strategically, the next he would simply attack Buffy without any plan or strategy whatsoever.
Ever since his sudden reappearance in their lives two weeks earlier Buffy and the others had waited for him to strike. After his near-fatal attack on Willow they had all been sure that he would not simply leave them alone. Buffy had run herself ragged scouring Sunnydale for him, but without success.
It did not help that she was constantly getting this tingly feeling somewhere in her belly, the one that she still recognized to hold a very special meaning. Only it could not be that same feeling, for its usual source was far away from here. Had removed itself from her life for good, whether she liked it or not.
Finally Buffy had decided that they all needed a night off. Willow was down because of Oz and still frightened because of Spike. Xander, she had come to realize, was feeling left out as the only one not going to college and his relationship, if one could call it that, to Anya was anything but relaxing, either. Giles, though still her Watcher as far as she was concerned, was not exactly flowering in the slacker life. She herself had enough issues to found a self-help club all by her lonesome. They all needed something fun to distract themselves and Buffy had decided that it would be a Thanksgiving dinner.
Giles apartment was the location she had chosen, despite her Watcher's hearty attempts to dissuade her from it. She had mobilized the others to gather food and decorations, had invested a lot of time in talking Willow into participating. The redhead was not particularly fond of a holiday that, in her mind, stood for the white man's taking the land away from the native Americans. Still, she had finally agreed to come and be merry, or at least pretend to be.
In hindsight Buffy should not have been surprised that Spike choose that night of all nights to spring his latest surprise on her. Then again hindsight was always perfect.
They were all gathered around the table, Buffy, Giles, Joyce, Willow, Xander, even Anya, having a somewhat good time with the meal Buffy and her mother had prepared, when the windows of Giles apartment suddenly blew in.
"Knock, knock," someone yelled from outside as everyone dove under the table. "Get your butt out here, Slayer! I got presents!"
Buffy peeked out from under the table, the hailstorm of glass shards having passed them by, and growled under her breath. "Spike!"
"Spike?" Joyce asked. "But didn't he give you his word that he would never ..."
"He's a bad guy, mom," she told her mother, still weirded out by how chummy her and Spike had been last year during his 'Drusilla-left-me' moping fest. "It's kinda a union requirement for him to break his word in regular intervals."
"He can't come in, right?" Willow whispered. "I mean ... no one invited him in, right? I know I didn't. I'm sure I didn't."
"Relax, Will," Xander patted her shoulder. "The Buffster will stake his ass this time. Right, Buffy?"
"You bet!"
Buffy rose, stake in hand, and carefully approached the shattered window. Outside in the court of the apartment complex Spike stood waiting with a bored expression on his face, about a dozen vampires and other assorted demons surrounding him.
"There you are," he smiled as he saw her. "I was starting to think you weren't allowed to come out and play."
"Oh, I'll play, Spikey! But why don't you introduce me to your friends first?"
Spike shrugged. "They can introduce themselves. Get'em, boys!"
Two of the non-vampire demons immediately stormed forward and ran down the door, not needing any invitation to enter. Giles and Xander had helped themselves to some weapons by now, though, as had Willow and Anya. Joyce, too, was holding a crossbow in hand, but did not seem all that certain what to do with it. Buffy just hoped that she would not poke out somebody's eye with it.
Spike continued taunting her, but she did not take the bait. The vampires could not come in, so the most stupid thing she could have done now was go outside and face them. Instead she turned around to deal with the demons inside first.
"I'll be out in a few, Spike," she yelled over her shoulder as she dove into the mayhem that had become Giles' living room.
"I'm sure you will," Spike simply said, taking his time walking up to the shattered window front. He could not enter, that was true, but he had never planned to, either. Slowly he reached beneath his coat and took out a shotgun.
"Not usually my style," he mumbled to himself as he carefully aimed it at Buffy's back, "but when you're cheating by bringing in outside muscle, well, I can hardly be blamed, can I?"
#
Angel was still watching as Spike and his posse started their attack. Everything inside of him was screaming to get involved now, to stop caring whether Buffy saw him or not. He held back, though. Buffy had survived without him so far and the only reason he was here was because of Doyle's vision.
He still remembered the look on his friend's face when he had come out of the painful trance. Doyle had seen Buffy die, killed by Spike. Angel had barely taken the time to pack the barest essentials before he was out the door, saying a prayer of thanks to whomever had created polarized car windows.
The last two days he had tailed Buffy all night long, careful to stay out of sight. He had seen her tense a number of times, seen her looking around, her eyes searching for what her senses told her was there. Seen the disappointment when she did not find it. It had taken every bit of self- control he had ever possessed not to show himself, not to walk out and take her in his arms.
That was not what he was here for, he kept reminding himself. He was only here to keep her safe and it would be less painful if she did not see him.
So he watched as Spike attacked, watched as Buffy did the smart thing and refused to be baited, dealing with the demons inside before concerning herself with the vampires outside. He frowned, trying to figure out Spike's game. His childe was smart, that much he had to admit, and knew Buffy well enough to know that the Slayer would not make so basic a mistake. What was he planning?
When he saw Spike remove the shotgun from his coat he knew. He was frozen in surprise for a moment, but only for a moment. Whatever reason Spike had from abandoning his usual hands-on approach when it came to Slayer, fact was that Buffy would die unless he did something quickly. The Slayer had her back turned, certain in the knowledge that the vampires could not enter and attack her, unaware of the weapon pointed at her even now.
Angel sprang into action without another moment's hesitation. Spike had three other vampires with them, but they were all watching the show inside. None of them saw him coming.
#
"Say goodbye, Slayer," Spike said, but before he could pull the trigger something grabbed him by the collar of his coat and wrenched him backwards, sending him flying across the courtyard. Even before he hit the ground he heard the characteristic sound of a vampire exploding into dust. No, two of them. He hit the ground, the ringing in his ears almost drowning out the sound of the third dusting.
When he looked up again he saw his attacker and sighed deeply.
"Aren't you supposed to be living in the big city now?" Spike asked his Sire as he got back to his feet.
"I heard you were in town, boy," Angel growled, sliding his wrist-mounted stakes back into the sleeves of his coat. "Couldn't stay away."
"I'm touched."
Without further banter the two vampires started exchanging blows, their fight quickly carrying them away from the still-raging battle inside Giles' apartment. An uppercut by Angel threw Spike down the steps and nearly onto the street, but the bleached vampire recovered quickly enough to greet him with a painful kick to the ribs when Angel caught up with him.
"Must be getting old, peaches," Spike goaded him. "Time was you would have had me across your knee the instant I pissed you off."
"I didn't have you across my knee often enough, it would seem. Maybe you need a refreshment course in obedience."
"Now you're talking like my Sire, mate! You didn't loose that pesky soul again, did you?"
"No, but for you I'll put it away for the night."
"You say the nicest things."
They clashed again, neither able to gain a clear advantage over the other. Angel was the more skilled martial artist, but Spike countered through sheer determination and stubbornness. He wanted to kill the Slayer tonight and he would do it this time, Angel or no Angel.
The fight spilled back into the courtyard after a thunderous roundhouse by Spike, sending Angel flying. The older vampire looked up from the floor at his approaching childe.
"What happened, Spike? Since when do you need a shotgun to take care of a simple Slayer?"
"Ran out of patience," Spike growled.
"I hear you."
Spike had about a second to realize that Angel had come to rest right next to his lost shotgun, the one that should have blown a hole in the Slayer's back. Then everything vanished in a haze of red.
#
Angel threw the shotgun away, his dislike for fire weapons having given way to pragmatism but briefly. Spike slid to the floor, a hole the size of Angel's fist right through his chest. The vampire still lived, of course, but would take a good long while to recover.
Angel had other plans with him.
"Angel?"
Looking up Angel saw Willow and Xander standing in the door of Giles' apartment, looking first at him, then at Spike.
"Is Buffy all right?" he asked them, concerned that he could not see the blonde Slayer anywhere.
"She's fine," Willow said, still seeming somewhat shocked. "One of the demons retreated upstairs and she followed it. Told us to check on Spike and the other vampires."
"I've handled it."
"So I see," Xander remarked, looking at the prone body of Spike. "And may I just add 'yuk'!"
"Will you ... are you gonna stake him?" Willow asked.
Angel looked at his prone childe and demon and man reached one of their rare accordances.
"Eventually," he just said. "Not for a while, though."
Willow nodded, then quickly darted forward and kicked the prone body in the side, quite forcefully so. Angel could not help a smile.
"I owed him one," the witch said meekly.
Angel just stood and hoisted Spike over his shoulder, starting to leave the courtyard, then remembered something else.
"Don't tell Buffy I was here, okay? It would ... it would just make things more complicated."
"What should we tell her about Spike?" Xander had few qualms about keeping Angel's appearance a secret. The less Buffy had to think about him the better.
"You'll think of something, I'm sure."
A few minutes later, with Spike safely locked into the trunk of his car, Angel was on his way back to Los Angeles.
TO BE CONTINUED
#
It was a very Spike thing to do, they all agreed afterwards.
The bleached vampire had always been an odd mixture of base cunning and unpredictable aggression. At one moment he would make an intricate plan to search the Sunnydale sewer system for the Gem of Amara, employing dozens of vampires and moving strategically, the next he would simply attack Buffy without any plan or strategy whatsoever.
Ever since his sudden reappearance in their lives two weeks earlier Buffy and the others had waited for him to strike. After his near-fatal attack on Willow they had all been sure that he would not simply leave them alone. Buffy had run herself ragged scouring Sunnydale for him, but without success.
It did not help that she was constantly getting this tingly feeling somewhere in her belly, the one that she still recognized to hold a very special meaning. Only it could not be that same feeling, for its usual source was far away from here. Had removed itself from her life for good, whether she liked it or not.
Finally Buffy had decided that they all needed a night off. Willow was down because of Oz and still frightened because of Spike. Xander, she had come to realize, was feeling left out as the only one not going to college and his relationship, if one could call it that, to Anya was anything but relaxing, either. Giles, though still her Watcher as far as she was concerned, was not exactly flowering in the slacker life. She herself had enough issues to found a self-help club all by her lonesome. They all needed something fun to distract themselves and Buffy had decided that it would be a Thanksgiving dinner.
Giles apartment was the location she had chosen, despite her Watcher's hearty attempts to dissuade her from it. She had mobilized the others to gather food and decorations, had invested a lot of time in talking Willow into participating. The redhead was not particularly fond of a holiday that, in her mind, stood for the white man's taking the land away from the native Americans. Still, she had finally agreed to come and be merry, or at least pretend to be.
In hindsight Buffy should not have been surprised that Spike choose that night of all nights to spring his latest surprise on her. Then again hindsight was always perfect.
They were all gathered around the table, Buffy, Giles, Joyce, Willow, Xander, even Anya, having a somewhat good time with the meal Buffy and her mother had prepared, when the windows of Giles apartment suddenly blew in.
"Knock, knock," someone yelled from outside as everyone dove under the table. "Get your butt out here, Slayer! I got presents!"
Buffy peeked out from under the table, the hailstorm of glass shards having passed them by, and growled under her breath. "Spike!"
"Spike?" Joyce asked. "But didn't he give you his word that he would never ..."
"He's a bad guy, mom," she told her mother, still weirded out by how chummy her and Spike had been last year during his 'Drusilla-left-me' moping fest. "It's kinda a union requirement for him to break his word in regular intervals."
"He can't come in, right?" Willow whispered. "I mean ... no one invited him in, right? I know I didn't. I'm sure I didn't."
"Relax, Will," Xander patted her shoulder. "The Buffster will stake his ass this time. Right, Buffy?"
"You bet!"
Buffy rose, stake in hand, and carefully approached the shattered window. Outside in the court of the apartment complex Spike stood waiting with a bored expression on his face, about a dozen vampires and other assorted demons surrounding him.
"There you are," he smiled as he saw her. "I was starting to think you weren't allowed to come out and play."
"Oh, I'll play, Spikey! But why don't you introduce me to your friends first?"
Spike shrugged. "They can introduce themselves. Get'em, boys!"
Two of the non-vampire demons immediately stormed forward and ran down the door, not needing any invitation to enter. Giles and Xander had helped themselves to some weapons by now, though, as had Willow and Anya. Joyce, too, was holding a crossbow in hand, but did not seem all that certain what to do with it. Buffy just hoped that she would not poke out somebody's eye with it.
Spike continued taunting her, but she did not take the bait. The vampires could not come in, so the most stupid thing she could have done now was go outside and face them. Instead she turned around to deal with the demons inside first.
"I'll be out in a few, Spike," she yelled over her shoulder as she dove into the mayhem that had become Giles' living room.
"I'm sure you will," Spike simply said, taking his time walking up to the shattered window front. He could not enter, that was true, but he had never planned to, either. Slowly he reached beneath his coat and took out a shotgun.
"Not usually my style," he mumbled to himself as he carefully aimed it at Buffy's back, "but when you're cheating by bringing in outside muscle, well, I can hardly be blamed, can I?"
#
Angel was still watching as Spike and his posse started their attack. Everything inside of him was screaming to get involved now, to stop caring whether Buffy saw him or not. He held back, though. Buffy had survived without him so far and the only reason he was here was because of Doyle's vision.
He still remembered the look on his friend's face when he had come out of the painful trance. Doyle had seen Buffy die, killed by Spike. Angel had barely taken the time to pack the barest essentials before he was out the door, saying a prayer of thanks to whomever had created polarized car windows.
The last two days he had tailed Buffy all night long, careful to stay out of sight. He had seen her tense a number of times, seen her looking around, her eyes searching for what her senses told her was there. Seen the disappointment when she did not find it. It had taken every bit of self- control he had ever possessed not to show himself, not to walk out and take her in his arms.
That was not what he was here for, he kept reminding himself. He was only here to keep her safe and it would be less painful if she did not see him.
So he watched as Spike attacked, watched as Buffy did the smart thing and refused to be baited, dealing with the demons inside before concerning herself with the vampires outside. He frowned, trying to figure out Spike's game. His childe was smart, that much he had to admit, and knew Buffy well enough to know that the Slayer would not make so basic a mistake. What was he planning?
When he saw Spike remove the shotgun from his coat he knew. He was frozen in surprise for a moment, but only for a moment. Whatever reason Spike had from abandoning his usual hands-on approach when it came to Slayer, fact was that Buffy would die unless he did something quickly. The Slayer had her back turned, certain in the knowledge that the vampires could not enter and attack her, unaware of the weapon pointed at her even now.
Angel sprang into action without another moment's hesitation. Spike had three other vampires with them, but they were all watching the show inside. None of them saw him coming.
#
"Say goodbye, Slayer," Spike said, but before he could pull the trigger something grabbed him by the collar of his coat and wrenched him backwards, sending him flying across the courtyard. Even before he hit the ground he heard the characteristic sound of a vampire exploding into dust. No, two of them. He hit the ground, the ringing in his ears almost drowning out the sound of the third dusting.
When he looked up again he saw his attacker and sighed deeply.
"Aren't you supposed to be living in the big city now?" Spike asked his Sire as he got back to his feet.
"I heard you were in town, boy," Angel growled, sliding his wrist-mounted stakes back into the sleeves of his coat. "Couldn't stay away."
"I'm touched."
Without further banter the two vampires started exchanging blows, their fight quickly carrying them away from the still-raging battle inside Giles' apartment. An uppercut by Angel threw Spike down the steps and nearly onto the street, but the bleached vampire recovered quickly enough to greet him with a painful kick to the ribs when Angel caught up with him.
"Must be getting old, peaches," Spike goaded him. "Time was you would have had me across your knee the instant I pissed you off."
"I didn't have you across my knee often enough, it would seem. Maybe you need a refreshment course in obedience."
"Now you're talking like my Sire, mate! You didn't loose that pesky soul again, did you?"
"No, but for you I'll put it away for the night."
"You say the nicest things."
They clashed again, neither able to gain a clear advantage over the other. Angel was the more skilled martial artist, but Spike countered through sheer determination and stubbornness. He wanted to kill the Slayer tonight and he would do it this time, Angel or no Angel.
The fight spilled back into the courtyard after a thunderous roundhouse by Spike, sending Angel flying. The older vampire looked up from the floor at his approaching childe.
"What happened, Spike? Since when do you need a shotgun to take care of a simple Slayer?"
"Ran out of patience," Spike growled.
"I hear you."
Spike had about a second to realize that Angel had come to rest right next to his lost shotgun, the one that should have blown a hole in the Slayer's back. Then everything vanished in a haze of red.
#
Angel threw the shotgun away, his dislike for fire weapons having given way to pragmatism but briefly. Spike slid to the floor, a hole the size of Angel's fist right through his chest. The vampire still lived, of course, but would take a good long while to recover.
Angel had other plans with him.
"Angel?"
Looking up Angel saw Willow and Xander standing in the door of Giles' apartment, looking first at him, then at Spike.
"Is Buffy all right?" he asked them, concerned that he could not see the blonde Slayer anywhere.
"She's fine," Willow said, still seeming somewhat shocked. "One of the demons retreated upstairs and she followed it. Told us to check on Spike and the other vampires."
"I've handled it."
"So I see," Xander remarked, looking at the prone body of Spike. "And may I just add 'yuk'!"
"Will you ... are you gonna stake him?" Willow asked.
Angel looked at his prone childe and demon and man reached one of their rare accordances.
"Eventually," he just said. "Not for a while, though."
Willow nodded, then quickly darted forward and kicked the prone body in the side, quite forcefully so. Angel could not help a smile.
"I owed him one," the witch said meekly.
Angel just stood and hoisted Spike over his shoulder, starting to leave the courtyard, then remembered something else.
"Don't tell Buffy I was here, okay? It would ... it would just make things more complicated."
"What should we tell her about Spike?" Xander had few qualms about keeping Angel's appearance a secret. The less Buffy had to think about him the better.
"You'll think of something, I'm sure."
A few minutes later, with Spike safely locked into the trunk of his car, Angel was on his way back to Los Angeles.
TO BE CONTINUED