Ad Noctum
"I am hoping for good news," Adam stated.
Spike closed the front door behind him, stepping into his crypt and facing the large demon.
"Regretfully I have to tell you I don't have any. Messing with the Slayer's head... Didn't work. Tried to split the group. No luck. But I told you, they're a tight-nit little click of teenspirit."
"And you tried?"
"Even put some elbow-grease into it... Didn't help."
"I see," Adam said, though he looked hugely disapproving and far from seeing eye to eye with anything he had just been told. "Are you still welcome among them?"
Spike smiled.
"You know it," he replied.
Adam pressed a button placed in the metal plating of his chest and a floppy disk popped out. He held it up.
"Take this to her," he said. "It's imperative that she has it in her possession. Soon the wheels will start churning, you see. And I do so need her help to grind the bones."
¤
Buffy spun around, lying on her back, refusing to open her eyes. She was going to go to sleep if it so killed her.
Stop thinking about him, she grumbled to herself. Stop thinking about him. Stopthinkingabouthimstopthinkingabouthimstopthinkingabouthim!
But the look in his blue eyes when he rested them in hers wouldn't leave her this time.
¤
"This is impossible," Calor grumbled the following morning, huddled over a crossword puzzle at the breakfast table.
Buffy leaned closer to look at what he was doing, frowned and refrained from even attempting to help.
"Thought you were supposed to be a smart guy," she remarked, teasingly.
"I am a smart guy!" he assured, too sulky to pick up on the tease. "I'm bright as a bloody light bulb. But I don't connect the short words with these longer ones and the crisscrossing and... Ugh!"
Buffy smirked.
"Anyone who uses 'bloody' when they curse just flashes ignorance to me," she said, pity in her voice before she rose, patting his shoulder and heading into the kitchen.
"That's harsh," he merely muttered. "Oh, and, by the way, did you invite Spike last night?"
"No. Apparently he stopped by and he and mom got to talking and... Why?"
"No reason. Ath was wondering."
"Really? Why?"
"If you were okay with Spike coming over."
"Oh... why? She wanna invite him over?"
"I don't know," Calor replied truthfully.
"Where is she?"
"She went to the store to get some supplies."
"Baking again?"
"Yeah. She's inexhaustible."
There was silence for a short while.
"I didn't know Ath liked Spike that much."
"I don't know that she does... I don't even know why she wanted to know. I'm purely speculating. Don't pay any attention to me."
She smiled a little, but it faded.
Ath was a beautiful woman. The Slayer knew that in all practicality and reason she had no right to feel any stir of jealousy, not the way she had last night at the mention of Drusilla, and not the way she did now at the thought of Ath hosting any warmer emotions toward the vampire... that could be reciprocated. She was a very beautiful woman...
But she was starting something with Jonathan, wasn't she?
Buffy looked at the kitchen door, but her hopes of it opening within ten seconds, letting Ath through it, proved false and she sat down on one of the stools, pulling the newspaper spread on the island to her and beginning to read with feigned patience.
¤
She didn't see Ath that morning since Willow soon called and asked her to come to Giles', this before Ath had gotten back. So Buffy had spent most of the day at the apartment, talking things over with the Scoobies, reading up on old as well as new ways of war, trying to prepare for whatever Adam may throw their way. At seven o'clock there was a knock on the door, and without waiting for an invitation, Spike stepped through it.
Buffy, who had been lying on the couch, sat up a little too quickly at the sound of his voice. Feeling herself flushing as he turned his gaze in hers, she smiled a little and moved around, back then to him.
"Red," he said as Willow came into the room.
She looked at him wonderingly and he brought out the disk, handing it to her.
"What is it?"
"I don't know, but it's important that you find out. At least it is to Adam."
Willow raised her eyebrows, then walked up to her laptop, already set up, and popped the disk in, taking a seat. Buffy rose, clearing her throat and straightening out her clothes, nonchalantly running a hand through her locks as she came up to join the others.
"What you got?" she asked, leaning with one hand against the desk.
"Not sure," Willow mumbled.
Then Spike placed a hand on Buffy's wrist and gently pulled her aside.
This new thrill of desire rushing forth whenever she was near him now, what was it the product of? Her trust? The small surge of longing that kept making itself known was one she knew well, and yet she wasn't sure it was exactly the same. For some reason she didn't care. She had finally given up trying to keep it away.
"He's forging dark plans that involve you," he said, voice low and she stared up at him, almost stepping into him, but forcing the want down the next moment.
"He came to see you?" she asked.
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
He couldn't remember. Why was he even there again? If it wasn't to be standing in front of her... then why? His hand began to move up, his fingertips longing for the soft skin of her cheek, but he reverted it to his own neck, scratching it and taking a slight step back, saying an awkward hello to Giles, who looked at him rather funnily.
"Spike," Buffy said, "what did he say?"
"He's skirting the details, doesn't wanna give it away," he answered, wondering how to interpret the way she was studying him. "But it has something to do with that disk, and the final stages of whatever he's planning. He needs you for it to succeed... I didn't like the way he put it."
"Did he act differently around you in any way?"
"No."
"That's good. I think. That's good, right?"
"Should be," he shrugged. "If he'd wrung my neck a little out of place... not so good."
She smiled unexpectedly and he returned it, not able to restrain himself any longer as his hand moved up to her temple, using the injury she'd sustained the night before as an excuse as he touched the bruised part.
"Any pain?" he asked and he thought he heard her breath quivering as she gentle inhaled.
She shook her head a fraction, her eyes in his. They nearly flickered closed when he slid his fingers down her cheek, letting his hand fall away. She was so drawn to him she nearly followed the movement he made as he stepped back and turned around, heading for the door again.
"Good luck, Red," he said and she gave him a crooked smile as he opened the door.
"I might come by later," Buffy called after him.
"You do that," he replied, stepping outside and disappearing from view.
Oh, but I shouldn't, Buffy told herself. I really, really shouldn't.
Her defenses were crashing and burning. However had he managed it? Or was the fault really her own? She struggled to remember what had brought them up in the first place.
Vampire. Right. Evil and undead. Right.
She glanced at the door, her fingertips carefully touching the bruise at her temple.
¤
"Calor?"
He looked up as Ath entered the living room.
"You look tired. I thought you went to sleep."
"No, I couldn't... I wanted to talk to you, about what you said to me; about Jonathan... and me."
He eyed her for a few seconds, then sighed.
"I'm sorry. But it's the truth."
"I know. And I know I never should have gotten involved with him, but... You can't understand what it's like, to look at someone and feel like you would give anything to make them smile. And once you realize you can, just by being there... being yourself... then you feel like you're flying. It sounds so... human, I guess, and sappy-human at that, but it's true."
He looked sad.
"But you're wrong," he said softly. "I do know."
She frowned, questioningly.
"I would give anything to make her smile again," he continued, and Ath felt a flare of compassion rise within her. "I took it away from her. I was so foolish."
"No," Ath disagreed, sinking down next to him on the couch. "Not foolish, Cale. You thought you knew what was best for her. What she should want. What would bring that smile out."
"You know that's not true," he murmured bitterly. "I wanted to show her how wrong she was. How the happiness she was experiencing, in the midst of the hardships and trials, should be cherished. But instead I stole it, and locked it up. I only brought more misery."
"You're wrong. You're wrong, because once she understands..."
"But how can she ever relent to him!" Calor exclaimed. "It is too soon! All the growth they both were prescribed before submitting to any deeper emotions toward one another... If that does not take place, how can they truly find each other?"
Ath smiled at that, taking his hands in hers and making him settle down, catching his gaze and holding it as she said:
"They have grown. Can you not see how much they've grown?"
"Not enough," Calor murmured. "We only have two more days. I feel I can't see the right path anymore. I don't know where to go from here."
Ath didn't know how to respond to that.
¤
Buffy left Giles' around eight and walked slowly, keeping an eye on the streets she passed for any sign of activity. There was none, and she hadn't expected it. She was thinking about mundane things, trying not to let herself wonder what it was that was driving her to Spike's crypt this evening.
I need to see Riley, she finally thought, unsure of where it had come from and why it had appeared.
Then again, she hadn't seen him all weekend, so she supposed it was right.
Her mind drifted to her brief encounter with Angel. It had been nice to see him, though he had made her mad at him. On the other hand it had been weird. It felt like he was part of something far away... She had never believed that she could move on, that she could ever get over him, and she knew that a piece of her would always belong to him, but he was her past, and two nights ago she had understood just how much she had come to terms with that over the course of a year. So much had happened to her; she had grown in so many ways and learned so much about herself that she'd never known.
She hadn't fully come to terms with how Angel had stepped into the Now and pointed his finger at her, as though he knew her better than she knew herself. As though he knew Spike better.
"But he doesn't," she said aloud, trying to punctuate her own argument against her old love.
And I'm seeing him tonight, as a friend, she then thought firmly. Ally, even... to see what he's learned of our common emeny... enemy and to talk to him about... things that are of no real consequence to anyone but... him and me because that's what friends... allies do. They talk. They sit on the couch and talk. And they light candles. To see. Maybe not candles. Sets a different mood in that dark crypt of his. Not really the friendly type of mood you'd need if you're gonna sit on a couch and discuss strategies and the ugliest monster in the world and stuff of no consequence... But he doesn't have a lamp. Because he doesn't have any outlets. Because he lives in a crypt. Because he's a vampire. Because he was bitten. And killed. A long, long time ago. Where was I again? Right. Lamps. Well, then we'll just sit in the dark.
She could see the outline of his face, pale in the moonlight, opposite her on the couch and there was a suction of desire that she didn't want to acknowledge in its fierceness.
No, no dark. Lot's of candles, and separate seating.
She slowed down, having reached a fresh grave, the casket having been buried no later than that very afternoon.
"Hey," she mumbled, reading off the tombstone. "Died yesterday, did you, Stephen?"
¤
There was a knock on the door and Spike turned his head from the telly.
"Yeah?" he said.
The door slid opened and Ath stepped through it.
"Hi," she said with a smile, holding up a basket of cookies. "Brought you a snack."
"Ya-bloody-hoo."
She raised her eyebrows, closing the door and setting the basket down on the nearest sarcophagus before coming up to where he was seated on the loveseat. Sitting down beside him she looked him over, then said:
"Your enthusiasm is very flattering."
"And here I meant it to be sarcasm."
"Look, I have a feeling that despite all this hostility... you have just a slight hunch that you can actually believe what I've been telling you over and over again."
He held her gaze for the longest moment, then sighed barely noticeably.
"Reckon I might've a slight twinge, or the sort. With the type of energy flowing through you that you seem to have... You wanted the Slayer dead, she'd be dead by now."
Ath smiled a small smile.
"Indeed."
"When you touched my hands the other night," he said, eyeing her now. "I felt like you read me."
He didn't know how else to phrase it. Her smile broadened.
"And I let you read a few pages of me," she smirked.
As she said it, he remembered. He hadn't before, but now he could see stars, all around him, as though he was in the middle of a memory. And then brightness, and safety. A feeling of complete safety. As though whatever happened to him was in some way meant to happen, even if it wasn't planned.
He shook his head, then stared at her.
"What the bloody hell are you?"
"My brother and I... We're guardians."
"Guardians?" he repeated, then his expression changed as he thought he understood. "Of Buffy."
"Of her linage," Ath nodded, observing him closely.
"Why are you here, then? Is something... going to happen to her!"
"No!" she shook her head, smiling brightly now. "No, you mustn't think that's why we're here. It's a rather... tiring story. One I believe I would rather disclose to her first. If I must." She added the last under her breath, keeping her smile on as she finished: "But the reason I'm here is because I don't want you to fear me, or my brother. We're leaving soon, anyways..."
"Your brother..." Spike murmured, failing to remember what this brother was supposed to look like. "Have I met him?"
"Yes," she replied, unsure of where this was going, "many times." She frowned. "You can't recall it?"
"Strange, isn't it?" he said.
Ath looked toward the heavens, wondering if her father had a part to play in this. When she moved her eyes down again they caught on letters carved into the crypt wall.
"What's that?" she asked.
He looked wondering, then turned his head to what she was referring. It was a small inscription, engraved into the stone of the wall next to one of the windows. He had forgotten all about it, and now a rush of memories came flooding him. Of Buffy. Of why he had carved it there. As a reminder. Not a very long time ago.
"Ad noctum," he said.
"Mh," she nodded. "'Into darkness'." She watched him for a moment. "Is that where you see yourself going? Is that all that you believe is there for you?"
"Not at all..." he replied. "It's so I never forget where I came from. So I remember that's where I could just as easily go back to, if I ever stop moving away from it."
"And you're moving away from it?"
"I'm nocturnal, there's only so much I can do," he quipped with a slight smile, and she returned it.
She paused for a moment, considering, and then she stated gently:
"You have a heart unlike any I have ever seen." Reaching out she placed her hand over the still muscle in his chest and closed her eyes. "It's beating," she said. "Can you feel it?"
He felt a shockwave go through him, pain flitting into every pore before he had the most amazing sensation fill him. Pumping blood, and fighting pulse.
"You're as real as anything near her," Ath's voice came from far away. "I was wrong. Remember that."
Then he snapped back into the moment, her hand having been removed and her sitting coquettishly next to him, looking quizzical.
"You okay?" she asked.
He stared at her, wondering what sort of being she actually was. To have such tranquility and yet inhabit such awesome force was unlike much he had encountered.
"Yeah," he then mumbled as an answer to her question.
"Good. Now, before I go, I need a favor from you."
"And what's that?"
"It's about those," she said, nodding to the cookies. "I tried a new recipe and I feel they're missing something."
"You want me to eat a cookie?"
She smiled and nodded.
"It's not paranormal in any way. No hidden sunshine or drops of holy water, if that was what you were thinking," she assured.
"It wasn't," he replied, rising and walking over to the plate.
She rose as well, following in his footsteps. He grabbed one and held it up, eyeing it before turning his gaze in the goddess'. Then he took a bite, and she looked pleased, as well as expectant.
"Well?" she asked.
"It's good," he said, chewing. "It's chocolate-y. Sort of spicy too... What's in 'ere?"
"A true chef never reveals her secrets, especially when it comes to the sweets."
He smirked, swallowing. She placed a hand on his arm and stepped a little closer as she said:
"I am sorry if I alarmed you with my presence. I never meant to."
"'S alright. Would like to hear the story of your reason for being here, though."
She smiled at that, just as the door opened and Buffy stepped through it. She stopped short, staring at them and blinking in surprise.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "Didn't mean to interrupt..."
"Gosh, no," Ath laughed, stepping away from Spike and coming up to the Slayer. "I was just dropping off some samples, wanted to see if there might be business to be made with the undead. You know, since their taste buds are different."
"Right," Buffy said, trying to make her smile not as strained as it felt. "Sugars turning into salt... Don't want that."
Ath smiled.
"I'll see you at the house?" she said, stepping passed Buffy and pausing in the doorway, looking back at Spike. "Bring the plate back, will you?" she asked, not waiting for a reply before proceeding outside, closing the door behind her.
Buffy locked her gaze with Spike's, who was brushing crumbs from his hands. He smiled a little.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," she muttered, walking up to the plate and grabbing a cookie before heading up to the loveseat to sit down; a small puff of dust rising from her clothes as she did so.
"See you got lucky."
She stiffened, turning her head to him with an irate frown on her brow. He tilted his head a little to one side and she looked away from him again. He brought the plate with him as he came up to her.
"His name was Stephen," she grumbled. "I can assure you it didn't take long."
"Fledglings," he huffed with a small smile, putting the plate down and having a seat in the armchair. "Lack the stamina."
"More the technique," she said, making him cock an eyebrow.
She drew herself up into a more seated position and held his gaze without flinching. Then she turned her attention on the cookie in her hand.
"He showed potential, though," she added, almost defiantly.
"But when you've had the best, it's hard to go back," he retorted, and she could feel his eyes on her. She nearly glared at him before taking a bite of the cookie. "Well, isn't it?" he asked.
"What do you want, a five page confession?" she snapped and he blinked, expression growing wondering.
"Was it something I said?"
"Forget it," she grumbled, swallowing the rest of the cookie.
"Alright," he agreed, simply. "So, I was thinking..."
"Just because he was a fledgling doesn't mean he didn't have skill, you know," she interrupted, his mouth slowly closing as it had been cut off mid-sentence. "I mean, yeah, he was a bit green, but if I'd nurtured him instead of killing him, I'm pretty sure he'd have grown into a garden. A big, beautiful, lush garden that you could stroll through."
"When would that be – underneath the branches skillfully trying to drown me in sunlight?"
"That's not... I didn't... Don't mess up my metaphor! All I'm saying is that you shouldn't be so full of yourself, thinking you're the best; being all... once you've been with me you won't wanna go back."
"That wasn't really what I was saying."
"Oh, right, of course, you were referring to all the other Big Bad's I've..." she stopped herself from finishing that sentence in the wrong way and quickly added: "fought."
He was beginning to look amused, and God, how she hated the expression on him.
"Well, then, if you were then, fine," she huffed.
She wanted to keep ranting for some reason, but seemed to have exhausted her material and so she simply sat quiet, wondering why the stillness was bothering her so much. It was like itchy, sticky glue to her eardrums. She wanted him to break it. Needed him to say something.
Reaching over he took a cookie, then sat back and asked casually:
"Who should I have used as an example, then? Not a fledgling... Angel, perhaps? That'd suited you better?"
"Was that why she was here?" she asked, before she could even react to the words bubbling into her mouth. And easily the rest came pouring out as well, with: "Just because I spent an hour with Angel, you had to...?"
She trailed off, beginning to grow terribly annoyed with herself.
"Had to, what?" he inquired. "Eat a cookie?"
"Was that what you were doing?" she asked, the annoyance being directed at him and once unleashed, it was irreversible.
"Yes," he answered slowly, frowning now.
She could have hit him.
"Really? Oh, guess it was me imagining things. Like what you were doing at Giles' the other night, was that nothing but cookie-eating, too?"
He sat back at that, amazement on his face; his eyes glittering with humored curiosity.
"Are you jealous?" he asked.
"I am not."
"No?... Then why the hell would you even think it's any of your business who I choose to spend my time with? Now, I didn't like her at first, but Ath is a pretty remarkable..."
"Remarkable?" Buffy repeated.
"I think you already know that," he pointed out. "And it took a while, but now I'm starting to warm up to the bird."
"Warm up?" Buffy muttered and he narrowed his eyes.
"I can't see why this is such a big deal, can you? Honestly? Bloody hell, Slayer, all you do is ditch me for other men. Or worse, other vampires."
"There was only the one vampire. And as far as I know, there's only been the one other man."
He gave her a look at that.
Alright, not the best defense. But... she was so exasperated with his stuck-up, sallow, all-knowing expression. Like he knew something she didn't. Like she was so far behind. Like she was five.
"Honestly," she mimicked him, "is it so crazy, for me to go oh, here's someone who on the one hand's confessing his inexplicable devotion to me, and on the other is wanting to boink one of my friends?"
The bite of cookie in his mouth went down the wrong pipe with that, and he started coughing. But she could tell he was smiling and she got to her feet.
"Oh, I can't talk to you," she said, throwing the rest of her cookie back onto the plate and standing.
"Buffy," Spike got out, but she turned from him and headed for the door.
He caught up with her, not touching her, but not having to as his next words stopped her in her tracks.
"If you just admit why you're here... it would make everything that much bloody easier, wouldn't it?" She turned slowly to face him. "You're crazy if you think any other woman will ever mean anything to me," he added with a faint smile. Taking a step closer he made her take one back, looking almost frightened. "Tell me it's not all in my head. That the tremble when I touch you... that it isn't there because you fear me... or even 'cause you want me. Tell me it's there because the feeling is there, and you can't get rid of it."
He took another step closer and this time she didn't move. She couldn't.
"What feeling?" she asked hoarsely.
He leaned into her.
"I don't wanna do this anymore," he murmured, his nose nearly brushing hers. She felt her legs quiver with growing weakness. "Tell me what I wanna hear. And if you can't, then tell me why. Tell me why."
She couldn't breathe. She wanted him closer than he was. She wanted to feel his skin against hers. The desire was raging fierce battles with her ever-trying-to-stay-clear mind. But his mouth was so close and his scent was swirling its intoxication through her head. What she said, she said without really thinking.
"Angel."
His gaze hardened and then he slammed her back against the door. She let out a slight gasp, her hands going to his shoulders.
"What about Angel?"
Buffy felt something harden inside her as well.
"He taught me some lessons," she replied, her hands holding Spike back.
He gritted his teeth.
"Is that still what this is all about? Me lacking the spirit part?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Would that make it easier to love me? Justifying it with a soul? I wouldn't change," he stated, his expression intensifying and she wasn't sure she could take much more of it. Her arms seemed to be losing their strength. "This feeling is what's changed me. You're what changed me, can't you bloody see that?" he mumbled. "Everything I am right now, I am because of you. And I'd erase my past in a second if I thought that'd make you love me more, but it wouldn't. The difference between now and then is what makes you love me now."
She looked at him, feeling his hands slide through her hair.
"No," she then said quietly, but forcefully. "It isn't the spirit part... Angel didn't leave because of that part, he left because of all the other ones. And he was right. How could we ever work?"
Spike's hands made her meet his gaze, her own losing the struggle and letting him step into her.
"If you love me," he said. "Buffy, we'll find a way."
She hadn't realized how starved she had been for his touch. Her body felt as though electricity was running through it, her nerve-ends tingling, goose bumps spreading rapidly, butterflies fluttering excitedly in her stomach. And the longing. Dear God, the longing for him was like ice mixing with fire, coating her in its volatile substance, from her heart to her lips to her hands.
"I don't wanna do this anymore," he repeated, mouth at her temple.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she cursed them, but couldn't hold them back.
She wasn't wavering anymore, but she didn't want this. She truly didn't. It was why she had stayed away, why she had held back, why she had been so deep in denial. Her heart would be broken, she knew it. He wasn't safe. In the end it would prove impossible and it would go badly, for them both.
The dream came back to her for a third time, and so suddenly it made her open her closed eyes. His cheek beneath her palm and how it started to burn.
'You know I'm already gone.'
Her hold on him grew tighter and she buried her face against his shoulder.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
He brought her head back softly, looking at her with such warmth that she felt herself return it easily. And then she moved her head forward, parting her lips as they touched his. The kiss softly deepened, her hands sliding into his hair, his hands on the door as he leaned her against it. She kissed him slowly, savoring every last sensation, every single movement.
She carefully made him turn around, placing him with his back to the door instead and she could feel how he smiled a little. Her heart leapt and she smiled as well, his arms going around her, pulling her closer.
All that mattered was the feel of his body, the race of her pulse, the taste of his mouth. And she had convinced herself she didn't need it, didn't need him. That what she needed was stability, when nothing steadied her as the look in his eyes or the promise in his kiss. Giving him up would have been condemning herself to an everlasting state of chipping her heart into bits, because it never beat as strongly as when she was in his arms.
Spike sank into her, ravished by this hunger for her, for more of her, all of her. He wouldn't let her go again. Not ever again. Nothing on this Earth felt as good as she did, nothing made him feel this rush, and he heard in her heart beat that she felt it too. So he wouldn't let go.
They were making out unabashedly, and time didn't matter anymore. Forever seemed close at hand, but the eternity they were swirling through proved to not last more than ten minutes before a harsh knock on the door interrupted it. They looked at each other, both trying to discern exactly where they were and what was happening, the outside world so rudely making itself known. There was a second knock, this one even more brutal, the wood of the door creaking in pain as it settled back in place.
Buffy took a step back and Spike took one forward with her, his arms still around her. She was as reluctant to let go as he was.
"Spike," a voice called.
He furrowed his brow, his hold slowly loosening before he signed for Buffy to be quiet and step to the side. She did as he asked and he held her gaze for a few more seconds, a small smile playing on his mouth before he stripped it and opened the door, stepping through it and closing it behind him.
She heard him address the knocker as Stokes and then they began to walk away. She also snapped up the name Adam, and felt her heart begin to pound again, but for more serious reasons. What did he want now?
She waited only a few minutes before she cautiously opened the door and slipped outside, beginning to trail them.
She thought of Spike and felt her feet pick up their pace. She had a shiver down her spine that made her start to run. Something was wrong. She trusted her instincts and they were signaling danger.
Dread filled her. It hit her right where it hurt: she couldn't lose him. Not now. She didn't know what she would do if she lost him.
¤
Spike could still scent Buffy on his skin. He was dizzy with wondering what she meant. Had she, for once, taken him seriously and gotten that he meant what he had said. Or had she read how weak he was when she was that close to him and hadn't been able to resist it herself... Were they stuck in a never ending loop of this indecision? Her indecision. Or had she just made up her mind? Had the kiss been a consent to his statement, that she did love him? She did. He was convinced of it. But she had said that she was scared. And he had known that she was. She trusted him, though. She trusted him, and she would have to see that she could trust him everywhere.
Stokes, one of Adam's henchmen, showed the way through the forest they had entered. They walked across a wide clearing, a large cliff wall rising before them. Stokes brought a few branches of a tall bush aside and revealed the opening of a cave. Spike kept from rolling his eyes, the originality was astounding, and then walked ahead of Stokes inside.
"Spike," Adam greeted.
"Addie," Spike muttered, looking around. "Hard for a fellow to keep track on you."
"I wasn't under the impression you were supposed to."
Spike smiled a small smile at that.
"'S not what I meant." Adam gestured to a sofa, but Spike shook his head. "I was in the middle of something. What do you want?"
"Did you deliver the disk?"
Spike cocked an eyebrow.
"Yes, matter of fact," he replied.
"Good," Adam said. "Good."
He watched the vampire in silence for a few moments, then asked:
"Do you think yourself useful?"
"Useful?"
"On this earth. In society. Do you feel you fill your space?"
Spike furrowed his brow. Adam gazed upon him calmly, then smiled and said:
"I know how you can fill it. I can help you."
¤
Buffy slipped up behind the stem of a tree and peeked around it, watching three unknown vampires push the branches of a high bush aside and disappear in through what looked like the mouth of a cave. Suddenly a twig broke in two behind her and she spun around, her hand grabbing the stake she was holding and raising it, only to stop as her gaze landed in Riley's.
Her eyes grew as she brought the weapon down.
Guilt poured through her. But she didn't have time to deal with it now. The situation could turn ugly real quick and the last thing she needed was someone to feel responsible for. She was going into that cave, it was just a matter of when. And how. Stealth was key. And timing. And she knew she needed to do it alone.
"What are you doing here?" she therefore hissed.
"I was about to ask you the same," he hissed back, clicking in a message on the radio he held in his hand.
A few clicks were heard as response and then he pocketed it, looking back at her.
"Adam's in that cave," she whispered.
"I guessed as much," he nodded. "We've been tracking demons all day, finally got a lead that brought us to this position... How did you know where to go?"
"By tracking a demon," she answered, turning to have the view of the cave back in front of her.
"Spike. He's in there?" Riley asked.
She glanced at him, then murmured:
"Yeah."
"We're preparing to move in."
"And do what?" she asked, looking back at him.
"Take the subject down."
"It doesn't work like that. Look, Adam's stronger than all of your guns put together."
"I've yet to encounter a demon that's bullet proof."
"Yeah, well, maybe you need a reality check, because I'm telling you, that thing in there won't go down that easily. I swear to you, if you storm that cave, you'll be making a big mistake."
¤
Ath dreamed of blood and ashes. She saw the face of the vampire, and then the face of the enemy.
Adam.
She opened her eyes and they widened quickly with terror as the dream wouldn't leave her, staying like a veil before her eyes. A cave. Two forms. And a destiny that may be about to change in the most vicious of ways.
"Oh, God," she breathed. "He's gonna kill him."