Hey there!
WAHOO! Another chapter on time. I may be breaking a record or something!
Hopefully, I'll be able to do the same next week.
No angst in this installment, but the action is starting again and the crunch is on, folks. Will Spike find out who the new Master is before the Master takes Emma and Dawn? Will Angel help him? Will Spike turn Angel into gelatinous hamburger meat? Will Buffy be able to stop them?
All this and more in the next chapter of Vamps of Our Lives.
Oh, wrong story.
Well, enjoy this one!
Cheery Vibes Nimue "We're not nerds. We're... passionate hobbyists." - Tom Lenk
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com
Title: Claritin for the Soul (Chapter Thirty-three - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Willow, Tara and Dawn retrieve Anya from La Maison Rouge. Spike and Angel corner Willie for information on the Master and meet a new face they'd like to bash in. Buffy gets a message from Anya and the time crunch begins.
Claritin for the Soul
Willow, Tara and Dawn stood in a circle, candles flickering all around them. The basement was where they'd sent her from, and it was to the basement that she'd return. Not that the Windsor's cellar was anything mystically special – well any more so than any other place where the One and the Peacemaker spent their time. But it was always easier to reopen a portal where one created it. And the basement had been convenient at the time.
Willow chanted softly as Tara removed her athame from its place tucked inside of her belt. Dawn stood quietly, nowhere near as nervous as she had been the first time any of them had used the Key to open a door to another dimension. Being bled was becoming old hat.
A quick, tiny prick and Tara squeezed Dawn's finger. Three drops of blood in the center of the circle and a red pinpoint of light sparkled chest high. With a swirling, dizzying motion, it grew. Enlarged. Shimmered and shimmied its way into existence until a hole opened, obscuring Willow from view and leading into what appeared to be nothing more than a vast sea of red.
Whipping wind blew the women's hair back, and an oppressive heat filled the room. Note to self, Dawn thought, don't purposely open holes to hell dimensions as they'll dry out your skin. As the random thought flitted across her mind, a shimmery figure appeared in the distant red sea. Like the hole, it grew and became fluid and solid again.
With a pop, a windblown and haggard Anya appeared through the portal.
With a command spoken from Willow, the door snapped closed.
Anya flopped to the floor, panting, her hair sticking out in every direction, her white dress, which wasn't what she'd been wearing when she left, was dirty and torn. In once piece, but the demon looked the worse for wear.
Dawn ran to the mini fridge, grabbing a soda before Anya finally rose to speak.
"Not that," the demon panted.
Dawn quirked a brow, reaching into the cool air of the fridge. "No drink?"
"Gimme something of Spike's," Anya answered, wearily, flopping back until she laid flat on the floor.
Dawn snickered, grabbing a beer bottle and opening it on her way back to the travel-worn Scooby. "You okay?"
Anya nodded, sitting up and taking the offered brew with a contented sigh. "Yeah, whatever."
"What did you find out?" Willow babbled excitedly, sitting on the floor across from Anya. Tara and Dawn dropped down as well.
"Good to see you too," Anya snarked. "First things first, how's Randy?"
"He's fine," Tara answered, smiling softly. "At Xander's."
Anya chuckled. "Monkey boy's taking care of the kids?"
"Everyone but Emma," Willow answered, rolling her eyes. "They're all there."
"Rupert?" The demon asked, smiling at his name.
"Him too," Tara answered. "Just us here. And Buffy and Emma. Spike'll be back soon. He's after the Master. And Angel and Cordelia are staying down here..."
"Whoa!" Anya exclaimed. "What Master? Who? And Angel? Spike hasn't killed him yet?"
"Not yet," Willow sighed. "Needed the help."
Anya drained the bottle and let it tumble to the floor. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright and looked frantically around the room. "What time is it?"
Catching on to Anya's nervousness, the other women tensed. "Um, bout... 2 AM," Dawn answered, squinting against the darkness to look at her watch.
"Spike needs to go to the sleeping souls!" Anya babbled, hopping to her feet. "Luke and..."
"He knows," Dawn answered, standing up slowly. "I think he and Emma were going to go in the morning..."
"No!" Anya exclaimed. "Now! I mean, Luke and Gwydion are turning on their mark at sunrise."
"Turning on their mark?" Willow asked, joining the others, standing inside the circle.
"They still have a mark on the soul that's meant for Buffy's baby. At three months, they can activate the mark and once that's done, free will is gone from the soul. And for the baby to be born and not fulfill the prophesy, the soul has to choose to not inhabit the body of its own volition." Anya answered, as if the story should make as much sense as a grocery list. She turned, bolting to the steps.
"We need to find Spike!" The demon continued, rushing up the staircase.
"Find Buffy!" Dawn called up behind her.
"Well then. Looky, looky," Spike purred, manhandling a young minion into the cage at the back of Willie's bar. "Thanks for the tip," he snarked at the barkeep, who Angel still had held against the wall, a strong hand wrapped around the throat of the struggling owner.
"I gave you what you wanted," Willie panted. "Let me go."
"Not done," Angel replied simply. "As always, I'm thinking you know more than you're letting on."
"I don't! I swear!" Willie answered, flailing under Angel's grip. "This bigwig came to town. Brought his own people with him. Didn't bother turning any of the town folk. "
"What's he after?" Spike asked, locking the cage and coming over to where Angel held Willie firmly to the wall.
"I don't know. I just serve the drinks!"
"Wrong!" Angel snapped, calmly, slamming Willie into the wall again.
"All right! All right!" Willie whimpered. "He's after the Key and Spike's kid."
"Knew that, wanker," Spike snapped. "Tell me something more ... relevant."
Willie's eyes swam as he searched for something, anything, which could possibly make the Vampires let him go. "Um... he said the Hellmouth was the only place to do some ritual... I don't know... something about opening specific gates to three different hell dimensions... And that there wasn't a Master here so it was free territory."
Spike tensed, but said nothing. Angel slammed the barkeep against the wall once more. "There is a Master here. At the moment, there are two. But this is Spike's town. A protected Childe of the Order of Aurelius. "
Willie nodded furiously. "Everyone knows Spike and Buffy own this place," he conceded. "This guy just has a death wish. Or thinks he can beat them."
Angel dropped the barkeep to the floor. "If you see him, Willie, you let him know that there'll be no mercy for encroaching on another Master's territory."
Again, Willie nodded, rubbing his neck. "That... that guy'll know more. He's the only minion that gets to go out on his own and do stuff," he babbled, pointing at the silent, caged Vampire. "I think he's a... not a minion, but..."
"Childer?" Angel asked, approaching the cage, sniffing the air.
"I don't know what you kids call it nowadays," Willie whined, backing towards the door. "But he knows stuff."
"You a tot of the new Master?" Spike asked, ignoring the escaping barkeep as he joined his Sire at the bars of the cage. "Could be good, Angel. If he's truly a Childe, the Master might come after him. Either to rescue or..."
"To kill the kid for getting caught," Angel commented, shooting a half smile at Spike. Spike smirked in response. "Who's your daddy?" He asked the caged Vamp.
Spike barked a laugh. "Not like you to be so forward," he snarked, watching the younger Vampire in the cage pace. "What about the happiness clause?"
Angel's turn to smirk. "Who is your Master, Childe?" The younger Vampire turned sullen, yellow eyes on the pair on the other side of the bars. "I will not betray my Master."
"But you are Childer?" Angel asked, sniffing the air once more. "Young, at that."
The Vampire nodded. "The youngest of the line."
"The baby," Spike teased, smiling. "Daddy's going to give you a whipping."
"He might like that," Angel commented. "So, who is your Master?"
"I will not betray," the youngster repeated, slipping into game face and rushing the bars.
"Feisty," Spike joked, backing up a step. "Think we can get it out of him?"
Angel fished out the key to the cage, pilfered from Willie before that interrogation began, and unlocked the doors. "I think we can get him singing show tunes from his nose in less than ten minutes."
With that, Angel and Spike shifted to game face and entered the cage.
"You want me to send a little ball-'o-light message, Buffy?" Willow asked excitedly, as Buffy heard the abridged version of Anya's tale. Emma slept quietly on the couch behind them, her head cradled in the crook of Cyrus's arm.
Buffy looked at them for a moment, calmly taking inventory of the situation. They'd been in tighter spots. "I think I can handle it."
"Oh no you don't," Cordelia commented, entering the dining room from the back door, still covered in dust and ooze. "Spike'll kill me if you leave." She paused for a moment. "Well, no. He'll kill Angel, but still, I'd rather put that off as long as possible."
Buffy sighed, smiling slightly at the ooze-covered Cordelia. So much the same and so very different. That seemed to be the way. "I don't need to go anywhere," the Slayer finally commented.
"Oh!" Dawn exclaimed. "Does that mental telepathy thingy work that far away?"
"Mental telepathy?" Cordy asked, wiping her face with a dishtowel.
"Mental something," Dawn mumbled, earning a swat from her sister.
"I can usually get a message across," Buffy answered, plopping down in a dining room chair. "Just give me... ten minutes. If he's not back in twenty, then send the light ball."
"What do you want us to do?" Willow asked, still bouncing excitedly, the time constraint boggling her overly-organized mind.
"You," Buffy began, pointing at Cordelia, "Go take a shower. You're dripping demon goo. There's a hamper in the hall closet that substitutes as a toxic waste bin. Hazard of the job."
"And suffer your cheap shampoo," Cordelia snarked, heading for the stairs.
"You," Buffy continued, nodding at Anya, "go keep Giles insane. Or sane. Or whatever it is that will keep him protecting Will and the kids. Willow made a magically secret path through the back."
"It's lighted by little pink fireflies no one else can see," Willow chirped, rocking forward and back. "Safe as houses."
"How quaint," Anya commented, heading towards the back door and grabbing another beer on her way.
"Dawn, you just... stay where Willow and Tara can see you. Who knows what kind of mystical energy you opening a portal created. You guys, all just stay and make sure nothing happens to Emma," Buffy continued, standing up.
"Where are you going?" Dawn asked, as Buffy strode to the back door.
"Don't get all worked up. I'm staying in the protected zone. I just need... it works best if I go somewhere where I... where we relate." She opened the door quietly and slipped out.
The back stairs had been a place of solitude for them both for years. The place where they'd first found a truce. The place where they'd always found solace. Who knew why, but Buffy knew that, short of their bed, it was the place they always connected the most.
Not to mention, it was quiet. By now, Cordy was singing showstoppers in the master bath.
With a huff, Buffy sat down on the top stair and closed her eyes. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Find the thread. Find Spike.
"Need you here," she whispered inside of her head. "Hurry. Important. Need you here. Come home." Over and over, she repeated the words to herself, trying to express it with urgency, but without panicking her Vampire into doing something stupid.
Spike wasn't always the most rational Vampire in panic-inducing situations.
"Come home. Hurry. Come home."
Another wallop and the young Childe of the new Master flew back into the wall with a thump and a needless exhalation of breath.
"Nice shot, Spike," Angel commented, asking the questions as Spike coerced the answers from the wily, aggressive little minion.
"Don't worry, Peaches," Spike panted, fending off a right hook and downing the Childe with a flourish, "got a few more to show you when the time's right."
"Don't doubt that," Angel commented, watching Spike hold the minion down with his boot heel to the youngster's throat.
"You," the minion choked out, "you let your Childer talk to you in that way?"
Spike barked another laugh. "He's not the boss of me..."
Angel rolled his eyes. "We're not talking about my... situation. We're talking bout your lousy excuse for a Master. Let his youngest out to roam the town. You're barely a decade old!"
"Eighteen!" The Vampire shouted back, gasping as Spike pushed harder on his throat.
"Oh, eighteen. That makes you high and mighty," Spike snarked, letting the Childe up. It was more fun to fight than to just hold him still. "And you were what, twenty, when you were turned?"
"Twenty-two," the minion responded, rushing Spike again and being tossed back like a rag doll.
"He's not very good at this," Spike commented to Angel as the younger Vamp slid down the wall with another thump.
"Youngest. He was protected," Angel answered for him.
A chuckle from Spike. "Funny. Never worked that way for us."
"We're not talking about us," Angel answered, annoyed. "Now," he began again, walking to the minion. "Tell us about dear old dad."
"No," the youngster answered.
"No?" Angel questioned, slipping a vial of holy water from his coat pocket and tossing it to Spike. "You know, Spike here is... well, he's not got the nasty allergies of most Vampires anymore."
"Claritin for the soul," Spike agreed. "No aversion to this stuff." He opened the vial and let a drop fall onto his finger. Nothing happened. Nifty, Spike thought. Hadn't tried that.
Wait, did Angel know that?
The youngest cowered just a little as Spike dropped that line of thought for the moment and strode towards him.
"So, he could, I don't know, hold a cross against you and make you drink a keg of that stuff," Angel continued, walking to the other side of the boy. "Or, I could beat you into oblivion. Your choice."
Spike stopped dead, mid-stride, raising his hand to his head as if he'd come down with a sudden migraine. Did he even get migraines, Angel thought?
'Come home. Im...hurry...home...come....' A whisper in Spike's brain. Almost inaudible, but he felt it more than heard it.
Buffy needed him.
"Looks like you're going to have to beat him to a bloody pulp, Peaches," Spike snapped, tossing the vial of holy water onto a pile of boxes.
"What is it?" Angel asked. "You all right?"
"S'Buffy," Spike answered, still rubbing his temple and hearing her voice inside of his head. "Needs me there."
Angel nodded, not sure how Spike knew, or what the mechanism was that bound him to the Slayer. But he didn't doubt that Spike was telling him the truth. The blond wouldn't pass up a good spot of righteous violence for nothing. "Go. I can handle this one."
"Don't," Spike commanded, "go after his boss without me. Or at least without backup. Just..." He looked at Angel for a moment, "Buffy would never forgive me."
Again, Angel nodded, smirking. "Didn't know you cared."
"Don't get out the Hallmark card, Peaches. Still hate you," Spike shouted as he slipped from the cage and ran for the door.
To be contd.
WAHOO! Another chapter on time. I may be breaking a record or something!
Hopefully, I'll be able to do the same next week.
No angst in this installment, but the action is starting again and the crunch is on, folks. Will Spike find out who the new Master is before the Master takes Emma and Dawn? Will Angel help him? Will Spike turn Angel into gelatinous hamburger meat? Will Buffy be able to stop them?
All this and more in the next chapter of Vamps of Our Lives.
Oh, wrong story.
Well, enjoy this one!
Cheery Vibes Nimue "We're not nerds. We're... passionate hobbyists." - Tom Lenk
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com
Title: Claritin for the Soul (Chapter Thirty-three - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Willow, Tara and Dawn retrieve Anya from La Maison Rouge. Spike and Angel corner Willie for information on the Master and meet a new face they'd like to bash in. Buffy gets a message from Anya and the time crunch begins.
Claritin for the Soul
Willow, Tara and Dawn stood in a circle, candles flickering all around them. The basement was where they'd sent her from, and it was to the basement that she'd return. Not that the Windsor's cellar was anything mystically special – well any more so than any other place where the One and the Peacemaker spent their time. But it was always easier to reopen a portal where one created it. And the basement had been convenient at the time.
Willow chanted softly as Tara removed her athame from its place tucked inside of her belt. Dawn stood quietly, nowhere near as nervous as she had been the first time any of them had used the Key to open a door to another dimension. Being bled was becoming old hat.
A quick, tiny prick and Tara squeezed Dawn's finger. Three drops of blood in the center of the circle and a red pinpoint of light sparkled chest high. With a swirling, dizzying motion, it grew. Enlarged. Shimmered and shimmied its way into existence until a hole opened, obscuring Willow from view and leading into what appeared to be nothing more than a vast sea of red.
Whipping wind blew the women's hair back, and an oppressive heat filled the room. Note to self, Dawn thought, don't purposely open holes to hell dimensions as they'll dry out your skin. As the random thought flitted across her mind, a shimmery figure appeared in the distant red sea. Like the hole, it grew and became fluid and solid again.
With a pop, a windblown and haggard Anya appeared through the portal.
With a command spoken from Willow, the door snapped closed.
Anya flopped to the floor, panting, her hair sticking out in every direction, her white dress, which wasn't what she'd been wearing when she left, was dirty and torn. In once piece, but the demon looked the worse for wear.
Dawn ran to the mini fridge, grabbing a soda before Anya finally rose to speak.
"Not that," the demon panted.
Dawn quirked a brow, reaching into the cool air of the fridge. "No drink?"
"Gimme something of Spike's," Anya answered, wearily, flopping back until she laid flat on the floor.
Dawn snickered, grabbing a beer bottle and opening it on her way back to the travel-worn Scooby. "You okay?"
Anya nodded, sitting up and taking the offered brew with a contented sigh. "Yeah, whatever."
"What did you find out?" Willow babbled excitedly, sitting on the floor across from Anya. Tara and Dawn dropped down as well.
"Good to see you too," Anya snarked. "First things first, how's Randy?"
"He's fine," Tara answered, smiling softly. "At Xander's."
Anya chuckled. "Monkey boy's taking care of the kids?"
"Everyone but Emma," Willow answered, rolling her eyes. "They're all there."
"Rupert?" The demon asked, smiling at his name.
"Him too," Tara answered. "Just us here. And Buffy and Emma. Spike'll be back soon. He's after the Master. And Angel and Cordelia are staying down here..."
"Whoa!" Anya exclaimed. "What Master? Who? And Angel? Spike hasn't killed him yet?"
"Not yet," Willow sighed. "Needed the help."
Anya drained the bottle and let it tumble to the floor. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright and looked frantically around the room. "What time is it?"
Catching on to Anya's nervousness, the other women tensed. "Um, bout... 2 AM," Dawn answered, squinting against the darkness to look at her watch.
"Spike needs to go to the sleeping souls!" Anya babbled, hopping to her feet. "Luke and..."
"He knows," Dawn answered, standing up slowly. "I think he and Emma were going to go in the morning..."
"No!" Anya exclaimed. "Now! I mean, Luke and Gwydion are turning on their mark at sunrise."
"Turning on their mark?" Willow asked, joining the others, standing inside the circle.
"They still have a mark on the soul that's meant for Buffy's baby. At three months, they can activate the mark and once that's done, free will is gone from the soul. And for the baby to be born and not fulfill the prophesy, the soul has to choose to not inhabit the body of its own volition." Anya answered, as if the story should make as much sense as a grocery list. She turned, bolting to the steps.
"We need to find Spike!" The demon continued, rushing up the staircase.
"Find Buffy!" Dawn called up behind her.
"Well then. Looky, looky," Spike purred, manhandling a young minion into the cage at the back of Willie's bar. "Thanks for the tip," he snarked at the barkeep, who Angel still had held against the wall, a strong hand wrapped around the throat of the struggling owner.
"I gave you what you wanted," Willie panted. "Let me go."
"Not done," Angel replied simply. "As always, I'm thinking you know more than you're letting on."
"I don't! I swear!" Willie answered, flailing under Angel's grip. "This bigwig came to town. Brought his own people with him. Didn't bother turning any of the town folk. "
"What's he after?" Spike asked, locking the cage and coming over to where Angel held Willie firmly to the wall.
"I don't know. I just serve the drinks!"
"Wrong!" Angel snapped, calmly, slamming Willie into the wall again.
"All right! All right!" Willie whimpered. "He's after the Key and Spike's kid."
"Knew that, wanker," Spike snapped. "Tell me something more ... relevant."
Willie's eyes swam as he searched for something, anything, which could possibly make the Vampires let him go. "Um... he said the Hellmouth was the only place to do some ritual... I don't know... something about opening specific gates to three different hell dimensions... And that there wasn't a Master here so it was free territory."
Spike tensed, but said nothing. Angel slammed the barkeep against the wall once more. "There is a Master here. At the moment, there are two. But this is Spike's town. A protected Childe of the Order of Aurelius. "
Willie nodded furiously. "Everyone knows Spike and Buffy own this place," he conceded. "This guy just has a death wish. Or thinks he can beat them."
Angel dropped the barkeep to the floor. "If you see him, Willie, you let him know that there'll be no mercy for encroaching on another Master's territory."
Again, Willie nodded, rubbing his neck. "That... that guy'll know more. He's the only minion that gets to go out on his own and do stuff," he babbled, pointing at the silent, caged Vampire. "I think he's a... not a minion, but..."
"Childer?" Angel asked, approaching the cage, sniffing the air.
"I don't know what you kids call it nowadays," Willie whined, backing towards the door. "But he knows stuff."
"You a tot of the new Master?" Spike asked, ignoring the escaping barkeep as he joined his Sire at the bars of the cage. "Could be good, Angel. If he's truly a Childe, the Master might come after him. Either to rescue or..."
"To kill the kid for getting caught," Angel commented, shooting a half smile at Spike. Spike smirked in response. "Who's your daddy?" He asked the caged Vamp.
Spike barked a laugh. "Not like you to be so forward," he snarked, watching the younger Vampire in the cage pace. "What about the happiness clause?"
Angel's turn to smirk. "Who is your Master, Childe?" The younger Vampire turned sullen, yellow eyes on the pair on the other side of the bars. "I will not betray my Master."
"But you are Childer?" Angel asked, sniffing the air once more. "Young, at that."
The Vampire nodded. "The youngest of the line."
"The baby," Spike teased, smiling. "Daddy's going to give you a whipping."
"He might like that," Angel commented. "So, who is your Master?"
"I will not betray," the youngster repeated, slipping into game face and rushing the bars.
"Feisty," Spike joked, backing up a step. "Think we can get it out of him?"
Angel fished out the key to the cage, pilfered from Willie before that interrogation began, and unlocked the doors. "I think we can get him singing show tunes from his nose in less than ten minutes."
With that, Angel and Spike shifted to game face and entered the cage.
"You want me to send a little ball-'o-light message, Buffy?" Willow asked excitedly, as Buffy heard the abridged version of Anya's tale. Emma slept quietly on the couch behind them, her head cradled in the crook of Cyrus's arm.
Buffy looked at them for a moment, calmly taking inventory of the situation. They'd been in tighter spots. "I think I can handle it."
"Oh no you don't," Cordelia commented, entering the dining room from the back door, still covered in dust and ooze. "Spike'll kill me if you leave." She paused for a moment. "Well, no. He'll kill Angel, but still, I'd rather put that off as long as possible."
Buffy sighed, smiling slightly at the ooze-covered Cordelia. So much the same and so very different. That seemed to be the way. "I don't need to go anywhere," the Slayer finally commented.
"Oh!" Dawn exclaimed. "Does that mental telepathy thingy work that far away?"
"Mental telepathy?" Cordy asked, wiping her face with a dishtowel.
"Mental something," Dawn mumbled, earning a swat from her sister.
"I can usually get a message across," Buffy answered, plopping down in a dining room chair. "Just give me... ten minutes. If he's not back in twenty, then send the light ball."
"What do you want us to do?" Willow asked, still bouncing excitedly, the time constraint boggling her overly-organized mind.
"You," Buffy began, pointing at Cordelia, "Go take a shower. You're dripping demon goo. There's a hamper in the hall closet that substitutes as a toxic waste bin. Hazard of the job."
"And suffer your cheap shampoo," Cordelia snarked, heading for the stairs.
"You," Buffy continued, nodding at Anya, "go keep Giles insane. Or sane. Or whatever it is that will keep him protecting Will and the kids. Willow made a magically secret path through the back."
"It's lighted by little pink fireflies no one else can see," Willow chirped, rocking forward and back. "Safe as houses."
"How quaint," Anya commented, heading towards the back door and grabbing another beer on her way.
"Dawn, you just... stay where Willow and Tara can see you. Who knows what kind of mystical energy you opening a portal created. You guys, all just stay and make sure nothing happens to Emma," Buffy continued, standing up.
"Where are you going?" Dawn asked, as Buffy strode to the back door.
"Don't get all worked up. I'm staying in the protected zone. I just need... it works best if I go somewhere where I... where we relate." She opened the door quietly and slipped out.
The back stairs had been a place of solitude for them both for years. The place where they'd first found a truce. The place where they'd always found solace. Who knew why, but Buffy knew that, short of their bed, it was the place they always connected the most.
Not to mention, it was quiet. By now, Cordy was singing showstoppers in the master bath.
With a huff, Buffy sat down on the top stair and closed her eyes. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Find the thread. Find Spike.
"Need you here," she whispered inside of her head. "Hurry. Important. Need you here. Come home." Over and over, she repeated the words to herself, trying to express it with urgency, but without panicking her Vampire into doing something stupid.
Spike wasn't always the most rational Vampire in panic-inducing situations.
"Come home. Hurry. Come home."
Another wallop and the young Childe of the new Master flew back into the wall with a thump and a needless exhalation of breath.
"Nice shot, Spike," Angel commented, asking the questions as Spike coerced the answers from the wily, aggressive little minion.
"Don't worry, Peaches," Spike panted, fending off a right hook and downing the Childe with a flourish, "got a few more to show you when the time's right."
"Don't doubt that," Angel commented, watching Spike hold the minion down with his boot heel to the youngster's throat.
"You," the minion choked out, "you let your Childer talk to you in that way?"
Spike barked another laugh. "He's not the boss of me..."
Angel rolled his eyes. "We're not talking about my... situation. We're talking bout your lousy excuse for a Master. Let his youngest out to roam the town. You're barely a decade old!"
"Eighteen!" The Vampire shouted back, gasping as Spike pushed harder on his throat.
"Oh, eighteen. That makes you high and mighty," Spike snarked, letting the Childe up. It was more fun to fight than to just hold him still. "And you were what, twenty, when you were turned?"
"Twenty-two," the minion responded, rushing Spike again and being tossed back like a rag doll.
"He's not very good at this," Spike commented to Angel as the younger Vamp slid down the wall with another thump.
"Youngest. He was protected," Angel answered for him.
A chuckle from Spike. "Funny. Never worked that way for us."
"We're not talking about us," Angel answered, annoyed. "Now," he began again, walking to the minion. "Tell us about dear old dad."
"No," the youngster answered.
"No?" Angel questioned, slipping a vial of holy water from his coat pocket and tossing it to Spike. "You know, Spike here is... well, he's not got the nasty allergies of most Vampires anymore."
"Claritin for the soul," Spike agreed. "No aversion to this stuff." He opened the vial and let a drop fall onto his finger. Nothing happened. Nifty, Spike thought. Hadn't tried that.
Wait, did Angel know that?
The youngest cowered just a little as Spike dropped that line of thought for the moment and strode towards him.
"So, he could, I don't know, hold a cross against you and make you drink a keg of that stuff," Angel continued, walking to the other side of the boy. "Or, I could beat you into oblivion. Your choice."
Spike stopped dead, mid-stride, raising his hand to his head as if he'd come down with a sudden migraine. Did he even get migraines, Angel thought?
'Come home. Im...hurry...home...come....' A whisper in Spike's brain. Almost inaudible, but he felt it more than heard it.
Buffy needed him.
"Looks like you're going to have to beat him to a bloody pulp, Peaches," Spike snapped, tossing the vial of holy water onto a pile of boxes.
"What is it?" Angel asked. "You all right?"
"S'Buffy," Spike answered, still rubbing his temple and hearing her voice inside of his head. "Needs me there."
Angel nodded, not sure how Spike knew, or what the mechanism was that bound him to the Slayer. But he didn't doubt that Spike was telling him the truth. The blond wouldn't pass up a good spot of righteous violence for nothing. "Go. I can handle this one."
"Don't," Spike commanded, "go after his boss without me. Or at least without backup. Just..." He looked at Angel for a moment, "Buffy would never forgive me."
Again, Angel nodded, smirking. "Didn't know you cared."
"Don't get out the Hallmark card, Peaches. Still hate you," Spike shouted as he slipped from the cage and ran for the door.
To be contd.