Disclaimers: If this were mine, I wouldn't need disclaimers.
Feedback: I love it . . . as long as it's not a flame.
Author's Note: Did I mention how much I love everyone that reads this and reviews it? It makes my day to get good reviews, and makes it worth writing! Anyhow, sorry for taking so friggin' long to update this time, but I was really busy and . . . okay, let me level with you. I haven't been in the mood to write for a while, but am doing it anyway, for you guys. I didn't really want to write this chapter, but I have. It's done then. Hope you're grateful.
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Buffy shrugged her coat over her shoulders, half-running, half-walking out of the Bronze.
'Well, this night's been . . . fun. No hugs and puppies here, that's for sure.'
Ignoring her friends' cries to stop, pushing her way past a waitress ('Are they really waitresses? Or are they bartenders?'), she made her way outside into the cool night air. She drew a deep, relaxing breath, the chill of the air making her nose red. Breathing a sigh of relief, she started to make her way home until she heard sounds of a struggle in the alleyway next to her.
'Great, great . . . slaying. Just what I need to make my day complete.'
Running towards the alley, Buffy stood with her hands on her hips, cockily. Two vampires were hovering over their helpless (and unconscious) victim.
"I'm here for the party."
She watched as both of the vampires turned, befuddled.
"Weren't you expecting me? I thought my invitation just got lost in the mail . . . no matter," she quipped, hauling one of the vampires off of the ground and slamming him against the wall, "I brought gifts."
The other vampire rushed towards her, and she dodged to the side. Spinning on her heels, she turned to face him, landing a punch square on his jaw and sending him sprawling. Grabbing a stake from her jacket, she knelt over him, plunging the wood into his chest with a satisfying 'thwump'.
'One down, one to . . .'
Buffy turned around to face her opponent, only to find that he had vanished.
"Go?" she finished aloud. "Hey, where'd you go?" She ran to the end of the alley to find it empty, to her dismay. "Come on, I wasn't finished yet! I need to work out some more tension!" Her lip stuck out in a pout, as she made her way back down the alley.
"Spoilsport . . ." she grumbled.
Spotting the figure crumpled on the ground, Buffy ran over to the victim, worried.
'Please don't be dead . . .'
Rolling the person onto their back, her eyes widened in shock as she recognized the person in front of her.
"Spike? Spike!"
She shook his shoulders roughly, in hopes of waking him up. He groaned a bit, but didn't move, so she started to slap his face lightly.
"Spike, wake up! Come on!"
Her hand raised to slap his cheek again and he caught it, rubbing the side of his face gingerly.
"God, Slayer, what'd you do to me?"
Buffy smiled wide with relief, resisting the urge to hug him.
"I-I was just trying to wake you up."
He sat up slightly, moaning in pain. "That's not what I was talkin' 'bout, luv. I mean this bump on my head. What did I do to deserve it?"
Her heart sped up at the accusation, and she couldn't help but feel a bit insulted.
"I didn't, I wouldn't! Well, maybe I would, but . . . I found you this way. I was leaving the Bronze and these vampires were hovering over you all menacing. I thought that you were their victim or something."
"Right, right . . ." he touched the lump on his head warily, wincing with pain. "I remember now. Buggers jumped me, right after I left."
"Spike," Buffy sighed, "what did I tell you about starting bar fights?"
"Bar fights?!" Spike said, his voice tinged with frustration. "Didn't start any fight, Slayer. Why is your first reaction to go off and accuse a fellow like that? It hurts, it does." He touched his head again. "Though not as much as bein' nailed in the head with a crowbar."
Her brow furrowed in thought.
"Well . . . they must have had some reason for attacking you like that. I mean, people don't usually tend to attack someone for no reason. Maybe they thought you were someone else . . ."
"No, no, they couldn't have. They called me by name, called me into the alley."
Buffy snorted in laughter. "And you just followed them? What are you, stupid? That's the oldest trick in the book."
"I didn't see 'em, Slayer. I . . . I thought it was you."
This caused her to chuckle again, despite the situation. "What, those two -male- vampires sounded just like me?"
"Well . . ." his eyebrow raised and a devilish smile grew on his face. "You do have that masculine voice of yours."
She blushed furiously. "What?! No, I don't! Hmm . . . now that you mention it, it is more manly than yours. What with the snotty accent and the 'pip-pip's and 'cheerio's. Didn't anyone ever tell you Brits that Cheerios is a breakfast cereal?"
"Snotty?" Spike scoffed. "Right, I'm snotty. Real upper-classman, that's me to a T."
Buffy smiled wickedly. "Hey, not all of us can be poets like you, William."
His eyes widened and he clamped a clammy hand over her mouth. "Don't ever call me that, Slayer. And I -wasn't- a poet, you understand? You'd do best to forget about that little . . . incident we had."
"Why not?" she asked, pushing his hand away and smirking.
"Because . . ." he said, his eyes glinting evilly, "if you say a word about that to anyone, I'm going to let it slip about that box you have stored under your bed."
She gasped loudly, smacking him on the shoulder. "How-what-I-were you going through my things?!"
"Cannot tell a lie," he said, smiling widely, "I needed blackmail material in case you ever decided to reveal my . . . past to the public. S'good payback."
"If I'd known that you knew about that, I wouldn't have stopped to save your sorry ass."
"Hey, I can't help it! You know I can't fight back; I'm as harmless as a kitten up a tree!" Spike shrugged, a melancholy expression on his face.
"Harmless, yeah . . . Can you imagine how many baddies would get their hands on you if they found that out?"
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The vampire made his way into the room, worried. It would have been better to have let the Slayer stake him; his death would have been less painful this way. He was almost positive that she was going to kill him.
He'd failed her.
Entering the large room, he glanced up at the woman standing before him.
"Where is he?"
"I - I . . . the Slayer. She found us and she . . . she got Marcus. I had to leave, or she was going to kill me, too. I needed to get the information back to you that we . . . we didn't succeed."
"What is to be done, I wonder? To bring him back to me?"
"We could . . . we could go back and get him. When he's at his crypt or when . . . when she won't be around. I won't fail again."
She smiled slightly. "No, you won't." With a wave of her delicate hand, two minions were at her side. The vampire's eyes widened with fear.
"Tie him up . . . I'll play with him later."
Trailing her fingers over his face, she smiled slightly. "You have a good idea, though . . . I will find him. I will go and I will find him."
Drusilla turned to her minions, her eyes filled with wicked glee.
"I will bring my dark knight home."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
To be continued . . .
Feedback: I love it . . . as long as it's not a flame.
Author's Note: Did I mention how much I love everyone that reads this and reviews it? It makes my day to get good reviews, and makes it worth writing! Anyhow, sorry for taking so friggin' long to update this time, but I was really busy and . . . okay, let me level with you. I haven't been in the mood to write for a while, but am doing it anyway, for you guys. I didn't really want to write this chapter, but I have. It's done then. Hope you're grateful.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Buffy shrugged her coat over her shoulders, half-running, half-walking out of the Bronze.
'Well, this night's been . . . fun. No hugs and puppies here, that's for sure.'
Ignoring her friends' cries to stop, pushing her way past a waitress ('Are they really waitresses? Or are they bartenders?'), she made her way outside into the cool night air. She drew a deep, relaxing breath, the chill of the air making her nose red. Breathing a sigh of relief, she started to make her way home until she heard sounds of a struggle in the alleyway next to her.
'Great, great . . . slaying. Just what I need to make my day complete.'
Running towards the alley, Buffy stood with her hands on her hips, cockily. Two vampires were hovering over their helpless (and unconscious) victim.
"I'm here for the party."
She watched as both of the vampires turned, befuddled.
"Weren't you expecting me? I thought my invitation just got lost in the mail . . . no matter," she quipped, hauling one of the vampires off of the ground and slamming him against the wall, "I brought gifts."
The other vampire rushed towards her, and she dodged to the side. Spinning on her heels, she turned to face him, landing a punch square on his jaw and sending him sprawling. Grabbing a stake from her jacket, she knelt over him, plunging the wood into his chest with a satisfying 'thwump'.
'One down, one to . . .'
Buffy turned around to face her opponent, only to find that he had vanished.
"Go?" she finished aloud. "Hey, where'd you go?" She ran to the end of the alley to find it empty, to her dismay. "Come on, I wasn't finished yet! I need to work out some more tension!" Her lip stuck out in a pout, as she made her way back down the alley.
"Spoilsport . . ." she grumbled.
Spotting the figure crumpled on the ground, Buffy ran over to the victim, worried.
'Please don't be dead . . .'
Rolling the person onto their back, her eyes widened in shock as she recognized the person in front of her.
"Spike? Spike!"
She shook his shoulders roughly, in hopes of waking him up. He groaned a bit, but didn't move, so she started to slap his face lightly.
"Spike, wake up! Come on!"
Her hand raised to slap his cheek again and he caught it, rubbing the side of his face gingerly.
"God, Slayer, what'd you do to me?"
Buffy smiled wide with relief, resisting the urge to hug him.
"I-I was just trying to wake you up."
He sat up slightly, moaning in pain. "That's not what I was talkin' 'bout, luv. I mean this bump on my head. What did I do to deserve it?"
Her heart sped up at the accusation, and she couldn't help but feel a bit insulted.
"I didn't, I wouldn't! Well, maybe I would, but . . . I found you this way. I was leaving the Bronze and these vampires were hovering over you all menacing. I thought that you were their victim or something."
"Right, right . . ." he touched the lump on his head warily, wincing with pain. "I remember now. Buggers jumped me, right after I left."
"Spike," Buffy sighed, "what did I tell you about starting bar fights?"
"Bar fights?!" Spike said, his voice tinged with frustration. "Didn't start any fight, Slayer. Why is your first reaction to go off and accuse a fellow like that? It hurts, it does." He touched his head again. "Though not as much as bein' nailed in the head with a crowbar."
Her brow furrowed in thought.
"Well . . . they must have had some reason for attacking you like that. I mean, people don't usually tend to attack someone for no reason. Maybe they thought you were someone else . . ."
"No, no, they couldn't have. They called me by name, called me into the alley."
Buffy snorted in laughter. "And you just followed them? What are you, stupid? That's the oldest trick in the book."
"I didn't see 'em, Slayer. I . . . I thought it was you."
This caused her to chuckle again, despite the situation. "What, those two -male- vampires sounded just like me?"
"Well . . ." his eyebrow raised and a devilish smile grew on his face. "You do have that masculine voice of yours."
She blushed furiously. "What?! No, I don't! Hmm . . . now that you mention it, it is more manly than yours. What with the snotty accent and the 'pip-pip's and 'cheerio's. Didn't anyone ever tell you Brits that Cheerios is a breakfast cereal?"
"Snotty?" Spike scoffed. "Right, I'm snotty. Real upper-classman, that's me to a T."
Buffy smiled wickedly. "Hey, not all of us can be poets like you, William."
His eyes widened and he clamped a clammy hand over her mouth. "Don't ever call me that, Slayer. And I -wasn't- a poet, you understand? You'd do best to forget about that little . . . incident we had."
"Why not?" she asked, pushing his hand away and smirking.
"Because . . ." he said, his eyes glinting evilly, "if you say a word about that to anyone, I'm going to let it slip about that box you have stored under your bed."
She gasped loudly, smacking him on the shoulder. "How-what-I-were you going through my things?!"
"Cannot tell a lie," he said, smiling widely, "I needed blackmail material in case you ever decided to reveal my . . . past to the public. S'good payback."
"If I'd known that you knew about that, I wouldn't have stopped to save your sorry ass."
"Hey, I can't help it! You know I can't fight back; I'm as harmless as a kitten up a tree!" Spike shrugged, a melancholy expression on his face.
"Harmless, yeah . . . Can you imagine how many baddies would get their hands on you if they found that out?"
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
The vampire made his way into the room, worried. It would have been better to have let the Slayer stake him; his death would have been less painful this way. He was almost positive that she was going to kill him.
He'd failed her.
Entering the large room, he glanced up at the woman standing before him.
"Where is he?"
"I - I . . . the Slayer. She found us and she . . . she got Marcus. I had to leave, or she was going to kill me, too. I needed to get the information back to you that we . . . we didn't succeed."
"What is to be done, I wonder? To bring him back to me?"
"We could . . . we could go back and get him. When he's at his crypt or when . . . when she won't be around. I won't fail again."
She smiled slightly. "No, you won't." With a wave of her delicate hand, two minions were at her side. The vampire's eyes widened with fear.
"Tie him up . . . I'll play with him later."
Trailing her fingers over his face, she smiled slightly. "You have a good idea, though . . . I will find him. I will go and I will find him."
Drusilla turned to her minions, her eyes filled with wicked glee.
"I will bring my dark knight home."
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
To be continued . . .