Pretty Dollies: Our Girl
Chapter 2
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Buffy waited until dawn came to go interrogate Spike. She knew that he would be in his crypt then, unable to run away from her before she got some answers. She opened the door slowly, she didn't want him dashing into the sewers. She needn't have worried. Spike was slumped against that horrid sarcophagus in the center of his tomb, obviously asleep. He didn't budge at her intrusion. The mysterious little girl was curled up in his lap. She, however, opened her eyes as soon as Buffy poked her head inside. Their eyes locked for a few moments before she poked Spike's shoulder gently.
"The shouting lady is here, daddy," she told him quietly. He grunted and turned his head the other way. Not to be deterred, she poked him squarely in the ribs, "you know, daddy. The Slayer." Spike woke up immediately. Buffy was shell-shocked for a minute. How did she know? Had Spike told her? While she thought, Spike scrambled to his feet.
"What do you want?" he asked quickly, pushing the little girl behind him protectively. Buffy marveled at his sudden possessiveness. The girl, for what it was worth, allowed him to shepherd her silently.
"I want to know about her," she replied, taking a step forward. Spike responded by scurrying backwards a few feet.
"She's none of your bloody business," he growled at her. Spike…growled at her. He must really care about the girl.
"I'm not going to hurt her, I just want to talk," she spread her hands in front of her, revealing them weaponless. Spike relaxed slightly but still eyed her distrustfully. She rolled her eyes, "At least tell me her name."
"Guindeviere," he said shortly.
"Guindeviere?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. That was…extravagant.
"I didn't name her, alright?" he said defensively.
"Okay, okay. I like it. It's…nice," Buffy half-lied smoothly. It really wasn't a bad name. Just seemed like it belonged to someone a little…larger. More impressive, "So…how old is she?" He tensed again. Buffy rolled her eyes again. What was up with him today?
"What's your name?" Guindeviere stepped smoothly out from behind Spike. She was so adorable…but all the more reason to think there was something sinister beneath the surface.
"I'm Buffy," she said with a sunny smile, watching the girl carefully. Guindeviere nodded slightly, as though Buffy had confirmed something to her and stepped forward again. Spike stood by and watched in amazement.
"It's nice to meet you…mummy told me so much about you…" At this, Spike stepped forward and his hand clamped down on her shoulder.
"I knew it! Now you listen to me, whatever 'mummy' told you about Buffy, it's not true…I want you to be nice." Buffy looked on, totally confused. 'Mummy'? The girl's mother…but she called Spike 'daddy', and he definitely wasn't her father.
"I'm always nice, daddy. And what mummy said is true. You're covered in Slayer…she's floating all around you daddy, even I can see it." She giggled and danced away from Spike's grip. Buffy thought hard…that sounded very familiar. Where had she heard it before? Something…somebody connected to Spike…it came to her in a rush. The Bronze. Last year. Talking about Slayer-killing. Drusilla.
"Spike…" she said, warning in her voice. He looked at her, and could see immediately that she remembered. His shoulders slumped.
"I guess I have to tell now, eh, luv?" he asked, smiling half-heartedly.
"Let's go to the Magic Box…the rest of the gang needs to hear this." Giles needs to…wait, no. Giles won't hear this. He abandoned me. Spike took Guindeviere's hand and led her down to the sewers, Buffy following them. Spike started to prepare for his talk with the Scoobies…where do I begin?
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Drusilla giggled and twirled around the country cottage. Spike laughed from atop the table, still set with food just now going cold. The hospitable farmer and his wife, who had invited the weary travelers in for a meal and a warm place to stay, slumped in their seats. They were a fairly grotesque sight for any humans, with spoons in their eyes (Drusilla's idea) and chair legs through their abdomens (Spike's idea); and when the farm hands came up to the house next morning, several of the big strong men lost their appetites. But for now, Spike and Drusilla were reveling in the carnage, and the delicious homespun taste of farmer's blood. Suddenly, Dru stopped dead in her dance and sniffed to air.
"I smell an ickle treat," she told Spike, "Something moist and sweet…" Spike inhaled and he too could smell it. Under the food, and the blood, and the wood, and the animals…there was the scent of a child. It was afraid. All the better, the sweetness of innocent blood with the added tang of fear. He turned, and saw a tiny toddler peering horror-struck from behind a corner. He remembered now…the farmer had spoken briefly of his daughter, already in bed when they arrived. Well, she wasn't in bed anymore. The girl looked to be perhaps three years old, and she was a pretty little thing, with warm golden hair mixed with a dash of red and brilliant emerald eyes. Maybe I'll kill her quickly, Spike thought generously, since she's so precious. He stalked towards her, licking his lips in anticipation, but Drusilla laid a hand on his shoulder and went forward herself. She knelt down in front of the child.
"Ooh…she's a dear one. A good little child. I can see it…her goodness dances in a pink waltz," Dru hummed a little accompaniment to the waltz only she could hear, "Oh Spike…can I keep her?" Spike raised his eyebrows…was she joking? But no, she was tucking the child's gorgeous hair behind her ears and cooing softly.
"You want to keep her? She's human, ducks."
"But Miss Edith wants a sister…isn't she the prettiest little dolly? A little sister for Miss Edith…"
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"She's half-vampire." Spike said begrudgingly. The assembled Scoobies, Willow, Xander, Anya and Tara all gasped appropriately, as did Buffy. Dawn, for once, had not complained about her exclusion from this meeting, probably because her alternate assignment was to watch over Guindeviere. The two were currently playing some hand-clapping game, Guindeviere acting the perfectly normal child.
"But that's impossible!" Willow exclaimed. When Dawn glanced their way she lowered her voice, "Giles himself said…there isn't a halfway between vampire and human. It's one or the other…isn't it?"
"Bloody Watchers…full of misinformation," Spike spat rather unceremoniously on the Magic Box floor. Anya glared at him.
"How can you be half-vampire? I agree with Will, isn't it kind of an all or nothing type of deal?" Buffy offered. Spike sighed in exasperation. Did he have to spell everything out for these ninnies?
"Right then, to be turned, you get your blood sucked, and when you're nearly dead, you get some vampire blood, right?" They all nodded. They knew this part. "You only change if you're near death. If you exchange blood with a vampire when you aren't dying, then you become half-vampire. You get some of the benefits of vampire blood, but not all of it."
"So, what do you get? Or lose, from your humanness?" Buffy asked while everyone else was still processing. For some odd reason, this all made perfect sense to her.
"Well, you got some of the super-strength, you got the good night-vision, good sense of smell," Spike ticked off the facts on his fingers, "better-than-average hearing. Ehh…you can still go out in sunlight but it's painful…crosses and holy water take a much longer time to burn you…you get the bumpies, but no fangs…don't drink blood, well you can I 'spose but, ah, never mind…you can be killed any of the normal human ways, but you got the speedy healing…that's about it."
"Well that's an awful lot of 'it'!" Xander finally spoke, "What were you thinking bringing the little devil in here?" Spike was inches away from him in an instant.
"Don't you dare insult Guindeviere. If you ever speak that way about her again, I'll tear you apart. Chip or no chip," he growled menacingly, and everyone was convinced he would indeed tear anyone who spoke badly about the half-vampire apart.
"But how old is she?" Buffy asked, "I mean, she seemed a little mature to be six."
"Knew I was forgetting something!" Spike snapped his fingers, "Super slow aging…you age about once every 25 years or so. So that would make her…"
"I'm nearly 80," Guindeviere chirped from near Tara's feet. They all jumped and looked down to see her sitting contentedly beneath the table. They turned again and saw Dawn surveying the shop in confusion.
"Did I mention she's a sneaky little thing?" Spike asked sheepishly while Guindeviere settled herself in his lap.
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