Part Three –
//It wasn't supposed to be like this. Another dose of unhappiness//
"Spike?" Faith questioned, then shook her head mockingly. "I thought we had an agreement. You stayed quiet and I didn't end your un-life."
"I didn't break the rules, luv." Casually he flicked a long lighter out of his sleeve and lit up. The lighter sent up noticeably more flame than usual and the demon next to him, who had been nervously glancing between the Slayer and Spike had to dodge as Spike idly flicked an arch of flame his way.
"Rules?" Wesley interceded, studying his charge carefully for any signs of remorse of her involvement with the blonde vampire.
"It's more an agreement Watcher." Spike answered before Faith could. "Your pet slayer here doesn't go around staking any order of Aurelius vamps, and I make sure they don't kill anyone." He took a long drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out of his nostrils like a sleeping dragon. "That's how it used to be anyway. Now, We'll see."
"What?" Faith asked coolly her eyes narrowing cruelly, with a calculated swagger she sauntered over to Spike and plucked the smoke out of his hand, and with exaggerated care ground it into the cement floor. "No one changes the rules Spikey. *That's* what we agreed."
"Angelus is back from San Francisco, and he's the Master vampire for the whole of California. He's got a purer blood-line, there's nothing to be done."
"I'm sure you could." She didn't even need to raise a conspiring eyebrow, her jet eyes told him exactly what she meant.
"He's my sire." He told her firmly. "I'm not staking him." He shook his head a slight grin etched across his face. "Even if I did, Dru's got higher claim than me, and Penn's older. Dru's in no position to be in charge and Penn… he'd wreak bloody mayhem around here." His voice was an angry tone of bitterness, he seemed unaware of the combined forces of darkness around him and instead concentrated solely on Faith. It was something Wesley, a spectator to the events, found increasingly disturbing. Spike spoke with increasing maliciousness towards his sire and order; this crime in vampire law was punishable be death, in extremely painful ways. Spike was signing his death warrant and he was unperturbed by it.
"You want me to discuss terms with the new master?"
"You want an agreement?" Another cigarette appeared from no where. "Go with the blonde chit to Crawford Street. Angelus' got a thing for blonde's."
"Absolutely not. Sending two slayers into a master vampire lair is preposterous." Wesley almost yelped in shock that such a thing could be suggested. His words seemed to do nothing more than remind the pair of his presence and they took a step away from each other.
"Spike…" One of the vampires on Spike's right stepped closer and whispered into Spike's ear, Spike stared sightlessly at the wall and as soon as the hushed hurried words had run their course the pitch dark eyes were riveted back on the scaled demon in front of him. The demon sensing he'd just entered the limelight drew himself up to his true height. Bad posture had curved his back and gave the comical impression of a squashed giant. The dirty yellow skin was covered in a haphazard combination of denim and suede. It could possibly be called a cowboy style but the dusty black cowboy hat looked more like it had been stolen from a musical than the Wild West. The Cats T-shirt confirmed this.
"Dalton here has just informed me that not only have you been disobeying the rules but that one of our Aurelius' boys went missing last night."
"The rules… Angelus…" The demon stuttered trying to save face in front of his men and stay alive too.
"This has nothing to do with Slayer rules and you know it." He slowly circled the demon eyes constantly pinned on him, searching for weakness. A great lion closing in on his pray. "I'm talking Aurelius' rules, trade of preternatural items is taxed. You know that, I told you the first time." He finally stopped pacing his victim and settled on a position face to face and very close to the demon. "Angelus' wants an example made, and lucky for me. It's you." The demon shifted his balance and started lifting his fists to fight. Before his wrists had passed his waist he had fallen to the ground, and the five fatal slashing wounds carved a bloody path across his chest. The vampires closed in.
Unnoticed in the confusion, Faith and Wesley slipped out.
Éire Shaor was closed when Buffy and Giles arrived there, it was close to four in the morning and the lights in the entire shopping centred district were off. With trading hours over the dim glow of the streetlights barely gave enough light to walk at more than a slow shuffle. With nothing more than "near Éire Shaor" from Doyle Buffy had to rely almost totally on her slayer senses to guide her to the supposed demon versus demon match she was supposed to do "something" about. With the amount of times she'd found Doyle wandering the streets round this particular Irish style-pub you'd have thought he would have at least been able to recognise the alley she was supposed to be at. It wasn't Doyle's fault the visions were so vague she knew, but it seemed more and more like the Powers That Be wanted them to lose, given how little information they gave them. About anything.
A piercing triple beep came from Giles and Buffy whipped around the sound startling to her hyper strong slayer senses. He pulled out his cell and frowned at it for a moment before locating the correct button to answer the call.
"Hello?" A slight smile crossed his face as he recognised the voice at the other end of the line. "Yes she's just - No." Turning away from Buffy he traced a path through the muddy streets with a toe. Rolling her eyes Buffy blocked him out and resettled her nerves to try and track the fight again. Focusing on the background noises, a rat scuttling through the wall beside her, the light hum of traffic on the freeway far away, and there. A muffled thump and a sharp intake of breath. Alley number two.
Pleased Buffy set off, eyes still closed she let her ears guide her feet one hand lightly brushing against the dirty brick wall beside her to keep her balance. The fight was much louder now, so that her human instincts began there programmed escape route search. Ducking into the over hang on one side of the alley her eyes scanned the area taking in every detail. Each possible weapon, hiding place and blind spot, satisfied that there were no hidden dangers she turned her attention to the demons themselves. There was nothing particularly special about them, but one of them had the same pineapple spikes as Doyle, A Brakken. They were normally peaceful, to see one so openly brawling in the street was suspicious to say the least. Still if she couldn't see the trap, she'd just have to spring it.
As soon as Buffy entered the street she was down, swallowed by a never-ending blanket of darkness.
//"I'm drunk…" Buffy muttered and tried to pull herself up from her seat, her companion next to her turned his attention to her, and for a moment she saw nothing but his face, dark brown hair set in lose touchable spikes, and brown eyes so deep she was drowning in them.
"So'm I." He laughed and they somehow managed to get themselves up leaving a few notes of the table, there might have been a hundred dollars there or three. Everything in her vision in swooping circles that would settle like leaves on an Fall day before being whipped up in a mini-tornado, and sending her reeling again. But his image stayed clear, like in had been burned on her memory for a thousand years to come. They stumbled over the steps and into the alley beside the club, and her flushed skin was pushed up against the brick wall, and cool breath played with her senses at the nape of her neck.
"Angelus…"//