Chapter Five
“I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” Giles admitted. “You’ve
been pretty reclusive since, er, well, since –“
“Dawn told me you wanted to talk, Watcher,” Spike
interrupted. “She asked me to come.” His tone strongly suggested no other
incentive could have brought him to this meeting.
“Yes. I shall have to thank her then.” Giles didn’t
bother to mention that, to his knowledge, this was the first time Spike had
spoken to anyone other than Dawn since he’d left the hospital the morning after
Buffy’s death.
Giles was seated behind his desk in his small office
just off the training room at the Magic Box , while Spike leaned with seeming
negligence against the closed door, his hands buried in the pockets of his
duster. The blond’s eyes seemed fixed on some spot on the floor just in front
of his feet.
Giles studied him for a moment. “You seem to be
regaining your health,” he offered. It had been close to a month since Spike
had been back among the living, as Willow had rather oddly phrased it.
Spike shifted uncomfortably, before raising his head,
and just for a moment, meeting the other man’s eyes.
“Haven’t thanked any of you lot for lookin’ out for
me,” he acknowledged. “Bit told me ‘bout the research and the offers of blood.”
He glanced at Giles’ arm as the Watcher’s hand went to his left wrist
instinctively. Spike looked away. “’ppreciate it,” he muttered.
“Yes, er, well,” Giles was stammering a bit as he often
did when he felt out of his element. “You were very helpful to us when we were
on the run from Glory, and I felt – we all felt that Buffy would have wanted us
to try to help you.”
Even though his head was bent downward again, Giles
could see the strong line of Spike’s jaw tighten.
“I’ve been curious about the condition we found you in.
Do you have any explanation? Do you know what caused the problem with your
inability to –er, eat? Or, for that matter, what caused things to go back to
normal?”
Spike looked over Giles’ shoulder at the shelves of
books lining the back wall of the office. “That what you wanted to talk to me
about?” he asked after a moment.
“I am interested in that, yes. But there are some other
things of greater importance right now.”
“Let’s get straight to the good stuff then, shall we?”
Spike remained in his slouched position, but his shoulders
tightened a little as he braced himself for the Watcher’s words. He was
expecting it, after all. No way the blasted Scoobies were gonna let the bit
keep spending so much time with him. After all, evil, right? He hoped that if he
played it cool and kept the temper Angelus had always chided him for under
control, he might be able to salvage a couple of nights a week with his girl.
“Right then,” Giles sighed. “I will admit, it pains me
to have come to this conclusion. But what it is – what I need – oh bugger it.”
He gathered himself. “Actually, I was hoping I could persuade you to help out
with some problems that have arisen.”
Spike’s head came up in surprise, and he allowed a
small smile to soften the curve of his mouth briefly. “Oooh. That hurt,
didn’t it, Rupert?”
It was the nearest Giles had seen to the old Spike
since Buffy’s loss nearly two months ago. There was even the faintest trace of
a smirk on the vampire’s lips. But it was quickly gone, and when he spoke
again, his tone was serious.
“What’s the problem, Watcher?”
Giles briefly explained how demon activity seemed to
have fallen off both before and after Glory’s destruction but now appeared to
be on the rise again, and about the difficulties they would have in fighting
new threats without Buffy.
“You’re lookin’ for muscle, then,” Spike summed up.
“I guess it could be put that way, yes.”
“I’m in.” The words were stark, spoken without
hesitation.
”I can only offer to pay you a small amount, I’m
afraid,” Giles added, and the blond frowned.
“You can keep your bleedin’ money, Watcher.” Spike’s
voice was tight. “I said I’m in.”
The Watcher studied Spike openly, trying to read him.
The vampire looked older somehow, he realized. Weary, worn, angry. And hurting.
He kept to himself so much now, coldly refusing – ignoring – what few overtures
they extended. At one time, not so very many months ago, he had sought out
their company, had at times, seemed to almost crave it, to be a part of their
group. Now, though, he seemed not only disinterested, but almost hostile to the
idea of being with any of them. Buffy’s gone, Giles told himself. Spike no
longer needs to seek our company to be near her. That was logical, right? So
why, then, didn’t Giles himself buy that explanation?
Only Dawn seemed capable of touching him on any level
at all now. And Giles had to admit he was somewhat impressed with the devotion
the blond was showing the young girl. Several times in the last week he’d
overheard Dawn giggling as she shared with Anya something Spike had said or
done. There had been so little laughter in her life for so long…
Giles straightened in his chair, and got down to
business.
“Apparently, we have a dragon in the area.”
Spike cocked a brow. “I remember seeing a dragon or two
when the portal opened.” He’d been lying uselessly on the ground where Doc had
thrown him, helpless to get back up the tower to Buffy and Dawn, helpless to
protect them, to save them. Helpless to stop Buffy’s descent as she jumped and
he watched her fall. Falling, falling. Helpless, useless, as he watched her
body slam into the ground only a dozen feet from his own. Useless as he watched
her die.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and swallowed,
attempting to force away the visions of his failure.
Failing, as always. They never left him.
“In monitoring police records, Willow has come across
half a dozen reports of a dragon in flight over the last few nights.”
Giles spread a map of the area out on his desk, and
Spike pulled up a chair, turning it around to straddle it as he leaned over the
desk to watch as Giles indicated the places the dragon had been spotted.
“There aren’t any reports yet of it landing in
populated areas, or attacking people, but we can surmise that such an
occurrence will come about. And I hope we can act before it does.”
“What’s the plan, then?”
Giles allowed himself a faint smile. “We’re still
working on the details, of course. But a dragon is quite large, or at least
reports indicate this one is. There aren’t that many places it can be
concealing itself. And since we stand little chance of bringing it down while
it’s in flight, we need to find its lair.”
Spike didn’t hesitate. “The caves, here,” He indicated
the area just outside Sunnydale where there was a large network of caves. “Some
of the caverns are quite large. Plenty of room for a dragon – or several, for
that matter. Any idea if there’s more than one?”
“No. You just said you thought you remembered seeing a
dragon or two. How certain are you that you saw more than one?”
Spike tried to remember. Had he seen more than one
dragon, or had he only seen the same one circling? He wasn’t sure, and didn’t
want to spend any more time visualizing that night. It filled his dreams and
nightmares enough as it was.
“Sorry,” he said. “’m not sure.”
“One will be problem enough,” Giles cautioned. “More
than one…” he let his voice trail off.
“Or a breeding pair,” Spike added.
Giles’ mind had played with that idea with a sense of
dread, and he tried to ignore the fact that there seemed to be a bit of
anticipation in Spike’s voice.
“Tara has a lot of knowledge of dragon lore. We’re not
sure if any of that will be of use to us, but since we seem to be without the
latest edition of ‘Dragon Hunting Made Easy’,” his dryly sarcastic tone made
Spike’s lips curve again briefly as the other man continued, “we’ll be taking a
hard look at what she knows. Weaknesses. Strengths. Things we need to prepare
for.”
“Don’t know how likely it is, but if it can breathe
fire like in legends, that’ll be a problem for me,” Spike reminded him. “For
you, too, I’m sure, but, still, I’m more flammable than you lot.”
He stood, moving his chair back to its original
position.
“I’ll go have a look around the caves tomorrow,” he
told Giles. “See if anything looks promising.”
“Can you get there safely during the day?”
“Can always find ways to get about,” Spike assured him.
“Hellmouth,” he added as if that explained everything. Which, in a way, it did.
“But I thought – er, I mean. I understood vampires
slept during the day. That they had little control over that need.”
Spike eyed him solemnly as he lit a cigarette. “Sleep
is highly overrated, mate.” He took a long, satisfying drag on his cigarette,
ignoring Giles’ disparaging looks at the curling smoke.
“I’d be terribly interested in learning...” Giles broke
off abruptly, realizing it wasn’t really the appropriate time to ask Spike to
tutor him in vampiric habits and culture, even if he would dearly love to
access his first hand knowledge. If Spike continued to work with them, perhaps
he could persuade the blond to provide him with information currently
unavailable to the Council. Anya’s words about ‘knowing thine enemy’ had
rankled. How accurate were the Council’s texts? he wondered. Were there
inaccuracies that needed correcting? The next Slayer, whoever she was, may be
in need of more complete information, and he felt it was his duty as a Watcher
to do everything in his power to gain that knowledge.
“There are other matters that we’ll need to look at
once the dragon has been taken care of,” Giles changed the subject. “Glory’s minions,
for instance –”
“—are not a problem.” Spike finished for him.
Giles raised a brow in question.
“Not a problem, Watcher.”
Spike didn’t elaborate, but Giles didn’t need him to.
Spike had been hunting.
“They’re all taken care of?” he asked.
“Near as I can tell.”
“Very well, then,” Giles said by way of thanks. “And
Doc?”
Spike’s entire body went rigid, and Giles hoped he’d
never see the expression on his face directed at himself or at anyone he cared
about. The smooth, chiseled, lines of Spike’s still too thin face twisted into
a mask of fury infinitely more frightening than his vampiric features.
“Not. Yet.” Spike gritted out, voice icy with hatred.
And determination.
Giles felt a shudder go through his body. He could
almost pity Doc when Spike at last found the little demon. Almost. But not
quite. He’d cut Dawn. Opened the portal. Forced the death of his surrogate
daughter. Ripper peeked through.
“When you find him, I’d like to be there for the
finish,” he told Spike. “If I can’t be there – well, then, my shout at the pub
afterward.”
Spike nodded. “I plan to make it painful,” he warned.
“Blood. Gore. Screams of agony.”
Giles met his eyes steadily, and repeated Spike’s words
from earlier. “I’m in.”
The two stared at each other in complete understanding.
~*~
She was
touching him, her hands moving over his back with long, soft strokes. Spike
moaned as she leaned down to whisper into his ear, and he felt the warm caress
of her breasts against the cool skin of his back.
Buffy.
Even
distracted by the brush of her flesh against his, he kept listening closely,
trying to understand what she was saying.
He never
could.
~*~
The caves just outside Sunnydale were familiar, and
easily accessible, territory for Spike. Apparently some former mayor of good
old Sunnyhell had been very demon friendly, and had had city engineers connect
the city’s elaborate underground tunnel system directly to the caverns in
several places. Why did that not surprise him? He’d stayed in them during his
search for the Gem of Amarra, and later, Harmony’s little gang had made it
their headquarters during her brief and rather endearing attempt at a reign of
terror. Adam had housed himself here. He’d even stayed somewhere in their vast
depths with Dawn while Buffy ran off to keep Willow from getting killed by that
bitch hell god, Glory.
The caves were complicated, huge, and largely
unexplored by the human populace. Perhaps the humans were smarter that they
generally behaved, he thought. The underground labyrinth was usually infested
with examples of half the demon species currently inhabiting the earth. The
Hellmouth was a powerful draw to many demons, usually the worst types, and then
the worst individuals of each type. The legendary power of the Hellmouth, the
hundreds of prophecies that seemed intertwined with it acted like a magnet to
those who loved chaos and destruction.
But not today.
The unusual emptiness of the caverns told Spike
something big was up. Big enough to be a dragon?
And if it was a dragon doing such a good job making the
other demons scarce – just how powerful was it?
He explored with care, taking his time to be thorough.
The caves could be very confusing, and he was glad he was familiar with them.
Wouldn’t pay to stumble into a mess and not be able to find his way out, would
it? Though he had to admit, a bit of a set to would be nice, and he certainly
hoped to come across at least one demon today capable of giving him a bit of a
challenge before he killed it.
Spike wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the Watcher’s
request for his help. He liked killing things. He was good at it. If he
couldn’t kill to feed, as he hadn’t been able to since the Initiative had
performed its little unauthorized medical experimentation on him, then killing
demons was an alternate outlet for him that he enjoyed. It served to soothe the
demon within, and his vampiric need for bloodletting. So, for those reasons, he
supposed he was glad the Watcher had approached him.
He wasn’t sure he understood why he’d been asked
though. Hadn’t the Slayer’s death proved his incompetence? Why would any of the
bleedin’ Slayerettes think he was capable of coming through on something
important? He hadn’t that night, had he?
The night at the tower.
None of them had actually come out and blamed him out
loud, but he knew they were aware of just whose fault it was his Slayer was
dead. He couldn’t even look into their eyes; couldn’t bring himself to face the
accusation he knew he would find there. He supposed they were just looking for
muscle, maybe even expendable muscle, and he fit the bill more that anyone else
who happened to be available right now. Harris was probably laying his hopes on
the ‘expendable’ part, hoping for a way to be rid of him without having to
wield the stake himself.
Wanker.
He was a Master Vampire from the most elite and
powerful line of vampires ever to exist. Aurelius.
A weasely little demon like Doc should have proven no problem for him, and for
the ten thousandth time, he tried to understand just where and how he had
failed so tragically. Had he simply been unprepared for Doc’s tricks? Had he
been too cocky, too sure of his own prowess as a warrior? Or had the fact that
it had mattered more than ever before been his downfall? His reckless disregard
for his own safety and well being had usually served him well in battle. Only
when protecting another – usually Drusilla, or in the case in question, Dawn –
had he acted with hesitation that had led or contributed to defeat.
Spike felt a sudden stark fear run through him. What if
Dawn was endangered again, and he failed again, this time leading to her death?
Dawn. Dead.
Failing her. Again.
Failing his Slayer. Again.
He put a hand against the wall of the cave momentarily,
enduring the wave of sickness he felt. Sod it all anyway. Caring about people
was damned inconvenient. Not to mention truly terrifying. And fear was not a
sensation he was accustomed to feeling or dealing with.
Caring about Dawn, a girl so unable to protect or
defend herself, was even worse than caring about Dru or Buffy. At least they’d
had the natural weapons of strength and power at their disposal.
Things Dawn was without. The fear of failing her rocked
him, and the nausea increased. He swallowed.
Sonofabloodybitch.
He wasn’t going to fall back into the state he’d
apparently descended to just after his Slayer’s death. He damn well couldn’t. He had responsibilities,
sod it all.
How unbloodybelievable was that? Bleedin’ tragic, it
was.
Gathering himself, he went on.
The smell of rotting human flesh assaulted him just
around the next curve in the passage he was following. Well, that didn’t help
the nausea, he thought in disgust. The lack of sanitary measures by some demons
was appalling. Didn’t they have a care for others? Especially for demons such
as vampires who had a highly developed sense of smell?
The smell led him into a large cavern, currently empty
of anything living. Spike took in the pile of human and animal body parts, some
of which had been gnawed on, and most of which appeared to have been torn
painfully from their host. Something fairly large, then, he’d wager, if it
could tear a person apart limb from limb. Or something extremely powerful. Or
both. Vampires could tear the heads off of humans or off of several other
varieties of demons, but only when fully vamped and in the midst of blood lust.
He’d never known vamps to tear off arms and legs and pile them up. Not to
mention the vast amounts of blood covering lots of the bits in the pile. No
vampire worthy of the name would let that amount of blood go to waste.
He ran his mind over the demons he could think of whose
behavior and feeding habits fit this scenario. Half a dozen came to mind off
the top of his head. Two could be safely ruled out, he felt. Emg Demons and the
Nepthys had never made their way out of the jungles of South America. They were
closely related, both pretty noticeable and always traveled in groups of at
least a dozen. He was sure he’d have heard something if any of their kind had
been spotted anywhere in the vicinity. And Sangga Demons, though they loved
stockpiling their meat in just such a fashion, had little taste for human
flesh, so he could probably cross them off the list too.
He raised the torch he was carrying, exploring the rest
of the chamber. There were some very large, very deep and very fresh claw marks
in the stone floor in several places. Balls. Some of those gouges were nearly
five inches deep. In his experience, something that could claw that deeply into
solid rock should, if at all possible, be avoided. And if the claw marks had
been made by the same creature that was responsible for the pile of half eaten
limbs and the occasional torso, he could cross two more possible demons species
off his mental list. That left Geks.
Or something he had no previous knowledge of. Which
would include dragons.
After another hour of examining the chamber and the
adjacent passageways, Spike decided to go back to the Watcher with his
information. The Scoobies could organize one of their all night research
sessions. They pulled them often enough. They must enjoy them.
While they cracked the books, he thought he might work
out for a bit in the training room of the Magic Box. Bloke should never get too
complaisant. Maybe it was time to start training in earnest.
A little stronger. A little faster.
A little more likely to be able to protect Dawn against
any threat to her that might arise.
~*~