Part II
The sight of Rupert
turning into a Fyarl demon was a sight Spike swore he
would treasure till the day he dusted. It was filled with a lot of roaring and
clothes ripping, but admittedly, this was nothing the vampire hadn’t seen
before. What he had *never* seen before was quite that level of drunken
bewilderment in the Watcher’s eyes, as his oversize arm knocked the drink to
the floor and his size forty foot kicked the table, leaving it in dangerous
looking splinters.
Spike resolved to
avoid the table.
Ethan, who had
watched the entire process with casual interest, rose to his feet. “It’s so
hard to see them grow up and have to leave the nest,” he said with a sigh,
gently pulling Fyarl-Giles from his now precarious
looking seat. Fyarl-Giles uttered some squeaks and
growls, but didn’t fight. Ethan led him towards the door, opened it, and pushed
him on his way.
“So what’s the
cunning plan exactly?” asked Spike, watching this procedure with some
disappointment. He had wanted to make Fyarl-Giles do
tricks. He had wanted to see the look on Buffy’s face when she met her
new-style Watcher.
“Well, I thought
for a start I might release the big dangerous beast while it’s still too pissed
out of it’s tree to rip my head off,” replied Ethan, casually brushing his
hands together, having shut the door once more. “That okay with you?”
“And then what? You
turn yourself into a toad before the Slayerettes
catch you? What about me? D’you even think of that? When they find out I was here when he turned
into a snot-monster, they’re going to come after *me*! And I can’t fight back!”
Spike’s voice rose shrilly.
“Oh, would you shut
up!” Ethan growled in exasperation. Possibly,
it would have been crueller to have left Ripper to the annoying devices of this bloody vampire. “You are the least of my worries. The Slayer
is the least of my worries. What I am about to do…..”
“Which is what
exactly? You wanna tell me or the Slayer?” Spike’s
voice held a threat. Both men looked at the phone, lying beside the vampire’s
hand. Ethan heaved a long-suffering sigh.
“I want to take
over the Initiative,” he admitted. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, I know all
about that place and everything that’s going on there. But it was necessary to
get old Ripper out of my way first – and in his current state he should be
enough to keep the Slayer busy.”
Spike’s mind began
to work faster. A guy who could turn Giles into a Fyarl
demon could surely do more interesting things too……
“And I want the
chip out.” Arms crossed over his chest, Spike presented this statement as a
very reasonable request.
“What happened to
our little empowerment
therapy session?” asked Ethan sarcastically. “I thought you were
all ready to take on the world, chip be damned?”
“I want it out and
you can get it out,” said Spike stubbornly. “Or deactivate it or whatever.”
Surprised, Ethan seemed
to consider it for a moment. “Not sure I want an uncontrollable vampire in the
same room as me. Don’t entirely see the advantage of that one.”
“You afraid I’ll
kill you? You afraid I’ll turn you?” Spike sneered. He was sure he saw a gleam
of interest in the eyes of the other man.
“I have no need to
become a vampire,” Ethan informed him decisively. “And you’ve hardly persuaded
me to take that chip out, in case you were wondering.”
“I can help,” urged
Spike, sincere now. Please fucking please…. “You won’t find a partner more willing
to bring down the Initiative than me. I know my way around that place, secret
passages, everything. And I don’t *want* to eat you,” he added in disgust.
“I’ve my mind on a much tastier snack.”
“I could do it,”
said Ethan thoughtfully. Weighing up the options.
“I’ve no doubt that
you *could*,” grumbled Spike. “I want to know if you *will*!”
Hemming and hawing,
Ethan pulled various faces, while Spike’s hands clenched in anticipation. All the people he was going to kill. Making
a list and checking it twice….
“I’ll take the chip
out after we take the Initiative,” bargained Ethan. “If you’re prepared to help
and do as I say.”
Spike scoffed. “Yeah. I’m going into that place defenceless. And yeah – I trust you. Not a fucking chance, mate.
We do this my way. Chip. Out. Now.
I’m no use to you otherwise.”
Seeing the look of
distrust on the man’s face, Spike continued. “My one and only ambition in this
bloody world is to kill every one of those bastards. That works quite well with
your plan to take ‘em over. So…..You gonna do this or *not*?”
“Fine,” said Ethan
quickly. “We’ll do this. But we do it, *my* way, vampire. No orgy of
blood-letting until I control the Initiative. Got it?”
Waves of doubt flooded
Spike. He was pretty sure in his belief that this man wasn’t to be trusted….he
could end up with a chip that answered to a new master….Pain delivered by the
request of Ethan Rayne. He didn’t like the idea. Slave to an idiot contemporary of Rupert’s.
“Couldn’t be much
worse,” he murmured aloud, shaking his head. He noticed the enquiring look of
Ethan’s. “Yup, let’s get this done,” he said curtly.
Ethan nodded
quickly. “Ripper should have some…..” he looked about the room, checking
through various boxes. Helped himself to various
powders and ingredients. Took a dozen candles from one and arranged them in a
circle on the floor.
Always bloody circles, thought Spike. Magicians
were such traditionalists. What the hell was the problem with squares and
triangles anyway?
Meeting the eyes of
the other man, they exchanged distrustful glares.
“Has to be worth
it,” murmured Spike. The
kill, the feed. Any risk was worth taking. But in the back of his
mind the question loomed unpleasantly, what
made this risk acceptable to Ethan?
“Sit,” ordered
Ethan, and for once in his life, Spike obeyed. “This requires silence and
concentration,” the sorcerer continued. “You will sit still, concentrate on the
chip and not talk!”
With a roll of his
eyes, Spike gave grudging acquiescence. Desperate
times and all….
They both settled
peacefully, cross-legged on the floor; an almost eerie silence settling over
the room before Ethan began to murmur. Barely audible, even to Spike, he
concentrated his gaze upon the vampire as he spoke.
Vamp-hearing
strained to make out the exact words of the spell, but became distracted by a
very vague background noise. One that was getting closer and closer and….
The door burst
open, a yell of, “Giles? Giiiles!” filling the room. Fucking
Buffy, thought Spike in despair, turning his head to have his worst
suspicions confirmed. A whirl of blond energy flew into the room, stopping
abruptly at the sight before her.
“Spike, what are
you…? Ethan Rayne.” Buffy made the
name sound like a curse, as she headed across the room and towards the two men
with murder in her eyes.
Ethan, eyes firmly
closed, continued his low chant, oblivious to the disturbance.
Before she could
reach them, something exploded; a flash of light that filled the room, blinding
Spike and throwing him backwards. “What the hell?” he groaned, sitting up and looking
about.
“Well, al-righty,” commented Ethan, sitting up to calmly survey the
smoke and general mess. He took the disaster site and presence of Buffy in good
humour, shrugging a, “Better luck next time,” at Spike.
With a roar of
fury, Spike launched himself at the man. Hit by the full force of a vampiric punch to the face, Ethan yelled and stumbled
backwards.
Spike also howled,
clutching his head in anguish. “Why can’t I hit you, you bastard?” he shouted,
in pure rage. He kicked the prone figure, and was assaulted by a fresh wave of
pain.
He shook away the
pain. No time for a migraine. Survival
instincts reminded him of the Slayer, who was dragging herself to her feet, the
fury in her eyes unabated. The lust for the kill. Not surprising, he supposed, seeing that
they’d just exploded something at her, torn her shirt and ruffled her hair. He
imagined there’d probably be a bill for smoke damage at some stage, if she
hadn’t ripped them limb from limb first.
Instinctively, he
swung at her hard, fist connecting with her head and knocking her off balance a
little. He followed up unthinkingly, managing a second blow before she socked
him in the face and twisted his other hand into a very unnatural angle. The
pain of a slayer-powered punch seemed to jolt something in his brain.
“I can hit you!” he
yelled in delight and triumph, oblivious to the pain. “I can
fucking hit you, you bitch!” He turned back to Ethan. “Hey, you see that,
mate? I can hit her!”
“I’m very happy for
you both,” groaned Ethan from the floor.
Buffy and Spike
stilled, warily watching one another. Sparks in their eyes
that danced when they met. Neither seemed in a hurry
to go for the kill.
Which was just
downright weird of the Slayer, Spike considered, seeing as how the Big Bad
could apparently hit her again. Just didn’t add up. In fact……
Something was all
wrong here. Keeping a wary eye on her, he hissed at Ethan, “What the hell is
this? I can hit her, but I can’t hit you…” He managed to refrain from
illustrating this point. “So……” Somehow, his brain refused to come to any
reasonable explanation.
“So she’s not human,”
concluded Ethan, with a twitch of his eyebrow. He contemplated the Slayer with
interest. “Hmmm.”
Impassively, Buffy
watched them.
“What the hell was
that spell?” demanded Spike, excitement and bloodlust competing with
fundamental disappointment. The chip was still there, he couldn’t feed,
couldn’t take on the world…..But he could
take on the Slayer?
Ethan waved a
dismissive hand. “Just a little thing – call upon the dark power at your heart,
override these man-made restraints. Nothing much.”
“So what did it
*do*?” Spike towered over the man, the danger in his voice belying his
inability to kill.
“Brought
out the Slayer, at a guess.” Ethan shrugged carelessly, but kept a careful
eye upon the accidental subject of his spell.
“She *was* the
Slayer,” Spike explained, very, very slowly. “And this morning I couldn’t hit
her. So - something - changed.”
“Within the vessel,”
Ethan began in a reluctant drawl, “the slayer and the human live in – balance –
of a sort. I may have changed the balance a little.” He tapped his fingers on
the ground, impatient now. Probably spent enough time in Sunnydale for
one year. Invitation
just about worn through.
Spike pondered
this. “So the human Buffy’s gone? The soul’s gone?” His eyes lit up at the
words. This was going to be a whole lotta fun.
“If the human was
gone, neither of us would be alive right now,” said Ethan cuttingly. “Pure
Slayer is like pure demon – you don’t stand around and discuss how it got
there. No, I think we just look the leash off, upped the Slayer part a bit.”
“How much?” asked
the vampire, suspiciously. “Is this like 51% slayer,
49% Buffy, ready to stake my ass by tomorrow morning?”
“What do you want
from me?” groaned Ethan, “I don’t know. I’m a sorcerer, not a bloody
accountant!” He got to his feet, eyeing the door. Calculating
the distance, and the possible routes through vampire and slayer.
“This has been a
whole lotta fun, guys,”
Buffy interrupted casually, “but I gotta say, getting
bored now.”
Before either man
could attempt to block her, she had grabbed Ethan by the collar, hauling him up
above eye level, his feet dangling over the ground. He made a strange choking
noise that might or might not have been her name.
She held him in
place, easily, casually, unconcerned by his gasps for breath or the colour his
face was turning. A marble slayer, cast in cruelty, she held her position as
his body slackened.
And Spike looked
on.
Buffy let the limp
body fall to the floor; looked upon it with little interest.
“He’s not quite
dead,” commented Spike inconsequentially.
“Didn’t say I
wanted him dead yet,” she answered vaguely, eyes roving about the room. Darting
towards a chest in the corner, she picked out a length of rope and a gag.
Roughly hauling the unconscious Ethan into a chair, she bound his hands and
feet, gagged him and carelessly let him fall backwards, his head lolling.
Spike stood by and
watched. He held his ground, not yet daring her to try anything. Survival
instincts told him to get the hell out of this; his only hope had just been
half-choked to death and trussed up like a turkey by a Slayer who was more than
a little mad and didn’t look like she was ready to all it a night just yet.
But he couldn’t
leave. Not when he’d just got his teeth back. So what if she’s the only one I can hit? All the more reason to stay! argued the part of his brain that had always managed to get
him into the worst trouble.
Ethan dealt with,
Buffy contemplated the vampire. Advanced towards him with
purpose in her eyes.
He blocked her
initial blow, but couldn’t avoid the powerful kick to his midrift.
With a groan, he stumbled two paces backwards, then
came back at her with the need for blood and mayhem shining in his eyes.
Now, Slayer. See what you make of……
She caught his
fist, and before he could quite register, viciously sank her teeth into his
wrist, drinking from him. Shocked, he reacted on pure instinct, ripping his
hand away from her, his battle cry turning to a moan as his mouth crashed
against hers. He felt blood on his tongue, his, hers, oh god.
Hot little body,
rubbing against his, her hands moving over him now, pinching, grabbing…..
Trying to forget that this is the girl he’s supposed
to be killing…..
Aroused beyond
reason, he ground against her clothed, writhing form, dimly aware that she was
ripping his belt, making for his zip, tearing through denim, okay, Slayer, that’s another way to do it…..
“Buffy? Mr Giles,
sir?”
Oh, sweet buggering jesus. What was this fucking town, Picadilly Bloody Circus?
“Riley,” smirked the Slayer, wriggling most delightfully beneath Spike
and eliciting a further groan of despair from the vampire.
“Buffy?” called the
voice again.
“In here, honey!”
called Buffy, swinging Spike off her and jumping to her feet.
With a groan Spike
stood up, adjusting his trousers. With the whole of his demon, he cursed Riley,
cursed Buffy, cursed Ethan and cursed the empty whiskey bottle. If the damn
spell had worked, he’d be twisting the empty bottle in Riley’s face, with the taste
of hot Slayer blood still running down his throat. Although, he was prepared to
admit that this version of the world had at least provided something in the way
of Slayer blood. Unconsciously, he licked his lips as he watched her slink
across the room, greeting her man at the door.
“Hey, Buffy,” said
Riley, touching her arm lightly. She swung an arm around his waist and Spike
felt the need to kill them both. “We got
a report about a demon in the area. Thought I’d see if I could persuade you to
tag along?”
“Tag along?” asked
Buffy guilelessly. “Doesn’t that just sound like fun.”
“What’s going on
here?” asked Riley, surveying the room with concern. Spike, standing
aggressively behind Buffy, Ethan still bound and gagged on the chair. The
prisoner was regaining consciousness fast, glaring blearily at the gathered
group and struggling futilely against his restraints.
“Oh Riley,” said Buffy,
with her lip trembling a little, “I think he did something to Giles!”
Spike tilted his
head quizzically. Since when did the
Slayer do the little-girl-lost routine?
Ethan thumped his
feet against the floor in indignant denial, nodding his head in the direction
of Spike.
“And who’s this?”
asked Riley, indicating the vampire. His eyes narrowed with the vague feeling
of recognition, familiarity…..
“Friend of mine,”
said Buffy casually. “Helped with the bondage.”
Spike adjusted his
trousers a little more.
Riley shook his
head, shaking away the strangest feeling that he’d seen this person before……
“What happened
exactly?” he asked his girlfriend with genuine worry. “What did this guy do?
Where’s Mr. Giles?”
“I called around to
see Giles and I found Ethan here instead, casting spells. He’s caused trouble
around here before so I knew he must be up to something evil,” she explained. Quite
truthfully, thought Spike, visions of Initiative cages still fresh in his
mind. He knew perfectly well who the newly arrived wanker
was, even if the young idiot didn’t recognise him.
“So I tackled him
and got him tied up,” Buffy continued, leaving
out the minor fact of near murder,
“But Giles isn’t here so I was a bit worried. I was going to take a quick look
around the town now, but I didn’t want to leave….” She indicated the bound
figure.
“I can take him off
your hands,” offered Riley instantly, leading Spike to wonder if this had been
the plan all along. “He’s definitely human?”
“More or less,” was
Buffy’s careless reply, any hint of worry miraculously evaporating. “That’d be
great, honey.”
“Do you want some
back-up?” he asked. “I can put out an alert, get some of the guys to help you
check out the town?”
“I think we can
manage,” Buffy answered, with an undertone to her voice that Riley didn’t seem
to notice. “Might take all night though. You probably shouldn’t wait up.”
“Of course, Chosen
One,” he said, planting an affectionate kiss on her cheek. “Call if you need
anything.” He manhandled Ethan from the chair, the prisoner’s feet dragging
along the ground.
“He’s a very
dangerous sorcerer,” Buffy reminded Riley. “Be careful!”
“He won’t be doing
any spells where he’s going,” promised Riley grimly. “We have containment
fields that can control that sort of thing. You don’t have to worry about a
thing,” he assured her.
“You’re just the
greatest!” Buffy told him cheerfully, patting his back as he opened the door.
“Good luck with Mr.
Giles,” he told her, heading out into the night.
“I’ll call!” she
shouted after him, then turned to Spike with a roll of her eyes. “And that gets
rid of them,” she concluded with satisfaction, watching the two departing
figures from the doorway. Slamming the door, she threw her back against it and
smiled seductively at Spike.
“Now then, where
were we?”
A/N: I know at this point that Riley didn’t really
know where Giles lived but…well, do I look like I care
about canon?