Summary: 6 months. Spike's pub is doing great business, expect for the goody-goodies. Buffy is having nightmares.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own everything. But I wouldn't mind leasing Spike from them for a couple of weeks :)
Feedback: As always, appreciated.
Seeing Spike Through Buffy's Eyes Chapter 6 - You're Worst NightmareSpike looked around the pub and was proud. The place was packed. Humans and demons a like, getting piss drunk. Even for a Saturday, the pub was doing record business. It must have been all the conventions Cassandra had told him about. She said that the conventioneers were better than regular tourists. A group of tourists might consist of 3 or 4 people, but a group of conventioneers could be as large as 30.
Spike glanced up at the clock on the wall. Half an hour till last call. Then another two hours to clean up the pub before he could go upstairs. Maybe he'd let everyone go home early; clean the place himself in the morning.
Spike's vampire hearing picked up on Duncan's voice at the front door. "Guinness? Sure, mates. The boss is at the end of the bar. 'E builds the best Guinness this side of the pond." Spike laughed. Duncan had a knack for finding the Brits in a crowd. And he always sent them to Spike for a taste of home. Spike watched the group stumble through the front door. Couldn't be too drunk, or Duncan wouldn't have let them enter. He was a good doorman/bouncer. Built like a wall of concrete with a face only a mother could love. Like most Cartha demons, he was only violent when provoked. And then he was only deadly if the situation called for it. Spike trusted him on the door.
"Can I help you gents?" Spike looked at the Englishmen in their disheveled shirt and ties. He counted 14 in the group. Yep, definitely conventioneers. Wonder what organization they're with, he thought.
"Yes, quite. The, uh, gentleman at the door said you were the man to see about acquiring a decent Guinness." The spokesman of the group slightly slurred his words as he spoke.
"And he would be right. How many?" Spike was already grabbing for the glasses.
"10 please. Also, a Bombay-and-tonic on the rocks, 2 glasses of Crown Royal and a glass of Dewar's." Spike nodded his head, letting the spokesman know he had the order. "An interesting place you have here. And the name, it's unusual."
Great, the drunk wanted to talk. Spike hated this part. "Slayers? I dunno. It's as good as any other name, I reckon. Here are the shots and the gin-and-tonic. Take me a minute to build the Guinness."
The spokesman passed the finished drinks onto the appropriate men behind him, then turned to continue his discussion with the bartender. "Yes, Slayers. We were surprised when we heard about it. And the, uh, clientele is a bit unusual too. Don't you think?"
Spike lifted his head to look straight into the eyes of the other man. A slight gleam of gold showing, "Not that unusual."
The man gasped. "Vampire!" He spoke in a whisper, but it was loud enough to catch the attention of some of the nearby patrons and a few of his friends. He was reaching inside his jacket. Probably for a bloody cross, Spike thought. That's all he needed. Spike reached across the bar, stopping the movement of the man's hand with his own.
"Look, mate. I'm not sure how you found us. Slayers is a bit off the beaten path. But in here, humans and demons are treated the same. Any spot of trouble, and you and your friends will find your arses out on the sidewalk. Do we understand each other?" The man nodded. Spike slowly released his hand. "Good. Now here are your drinks. That will be $58.00."
Spike watched the man's trembling hand reach for his wallet. He pulled out a $100 bill and passed it to Spike. "Keep the change."
"Was planning on it. Now take your drinks and try not to choke on them." Spike turned his back on the still-frightened man. He hated goody-goodies. Every now and again they managed to stumble into the place by mistake. He had more trouble from them then he did from his demon customers. He would need to keep an eye on this group. There was something about the man that had Spike on edge. Suddenly, Spike froze as he caught the last bit of what the man was saying.
"… report this to the Council. They'll want to know that this place exists."
Watchers! A bloody convention of Watchers!
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
Buffy shot up straight out of bed. She was breathing hard, sweat pouring down her face, her eyes darting around the room. Her room, her window, her bed, her Mr Gordo clutched in her hands. Everything was normal. It was just a nightmare. Just another nightmare. Buffy slowly climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Just need to slow the breathing, splash a little cold water on my face, she thought.
Buffy walked into the bathroom, grasping for the light switch. She stifled a scream as she met her own reflection in the mirror. I look like hell! Well, that's what you get for not sleeping. Buffy washed the sweat off of her face. She took the washcloth and ran it down her neck, over her arms, trying to cool her body. It was a routine to which she was slowly becoming accustomed.
Two weeks ago her dreams had taken on a slightly eviler bent than usual. They started out the same. Her and Spike. Spike kissing her. Spike's eyes searching her soul. And always those words, "I love you; I'll never leave you." But then things changed. "And you will never leave me." Suddenly, she wasn't with HER Spike, she was with the demon Spike. He was attacking her, sucking her dry. And she was helpless to defend herself. She was slipping away.
Then the scene would change. Buffy was looking down at Spike's sleeping form. He looked so peaceful. They had just finished making love. They were in her bed, in her room. She never felt so happy in her entire life. A stake appeared in her hand. Before she could even think, she was bringing it down to his heart. His eyes flew open the second before he turned to dust. Looking at her, silently asking why.
But the dream wasn't over. Next, she was in Spike's crypt, chained to a wall. Drusilla tied to a pillar across the room. She knew this scene. It happened the night Spike first told her he loved her. He was ranting and raving about what 'you bloody women have done to me!' The stake he had early threatened Drusilla with finally made contact with her chest. Buffy watched as Drusilla bled to death. Then, Spike turned towards the Slayer. He aimed the same stake at her, still dripping with Drusilla's blood. As it found it's mark, Buffy exploded into dust. That's when Buffy would wake up.
She hadn't told anyone about the dream. It wasn't a Slayer's vision. It was just her worst nightmares all rolled into one. Spike turning her, Spike staking her, her staking Spike. At one time or another, she had experienced all three separately. But together, they frightened her beyond belief. The part she never understood was why Dru bled and Buffy turned to dust. That confused her, but it was only a dream.
Buffy left the bathroom, making her way back to her bed. As her head touched the pillow she whispered the same prayer she did every night. Spike, just come back to me. She slowly drifted off to sleep, hoping that this time, the nightmare wouldn't find her.
YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
Spike came out from behind the bar, something he rarely did. But he needed to get closer to the tables the Watcher's had managed to grab. He was looking for one face among them. Through the dark and smoke of the pub, Spike searched each man. No, he wasn't there. Spike turned to head back to the bar. Stupid of him to think he would be among them. What would he be doing in a place like this anyway? He bumped into a customer.
"Sorry about that." Spike said.
"Quite all right. No trouble." The man placed his glasses back on his nose. He had been cleaning them, not watching where he was going.
Spike gasped as he recognized the voice. "Bloody hell. Giles, is that you?"
Both men looked at each other in stone silence. Then Ripper, for this was no longer Ruppert Giles, planted his fist firmly in Spike's face.
-----TBC
