disclaimer on first part
An idea crossed his mind...he pawed through Dru's clothes, unearthing a long black velvet skirt with a hooded gray jacket. He dressed the unconscious Slayer quickly, coiling her blonde hair carefully under the hood. Dru's boots were too big; he put them on her feet anyway, since he could easily carry her.
He headed for the door, pausing at the last instant to seize the largest of Drusilla's French dolls. He pushed it against the Slayer's face, concealing most of her features.
Almost sundown...he'd take her down those stairs; and they'd be ready to make a run for it.
One flight...so far, so good.
Two flights...at least the Slayer was light and easy to carry. Spike could see the landing below- opening onto the lobby on the left...and the side door exit on the right.
A few more minutes....
The lobby door opened, and Bertrand's eyes met his.
"Saul!" the younger vampire yelled.
"Yeah, I see 'em," the giant loomed beyond Bertrand, clutching a whiskey bottle from the bar. "You goin' somewheres, limey?"
"Just taking Dru for a bit of air," Spike replied amiably, fumbling for a cigarette. "One of you got a light?"
They hesitated, nonplussed by his casual air. Then Saul nodded to Bertrand, and the youth slowly pulled out a lighter.
Until that moment they'd paid little heed to the figure in his arms, assuming it was a sleeping Drusilla.
But now Saul said weightily, "Better take the crazy back to her room. Aletta won't want her gettin' fried...yet!"
The Slayer chose that precise instant to wake up. "Unnhh," she muttered, moving her head.
Bertrand's eyes widened as he saw her face. "Saul...she's..."
Spike reacted. In one swift motion he flung the Slayer full force at Bertrand and Saul.
Bertrand lifted his arms to block as he stumbled back into Saul; and the big man slammed his head hard against the doorframe.
But Saul had smashed the whiskey bottle too...and Bertrand still clasped his burning lighter.
Flames shot up in a wall between them.
Spike grabbed for the Slayer. Her skirt was already smoldering, but the heavy velvet had protected her legs.
He spared a glance outside- and observed it was beginning to rain. He stumbled out the exit into what was soon a cloudburst.
In the street below, a fat woman paused her van at a red light; Spike wrenched the door open, hauled her from behind the wheel, and flung the Slayer into the back. He floored the accelerator; and behind him flames rose up... brilliant orange against a gunmetal sky. The fire had found swift purchase in that old hotel...not even the downpour could hold it back. Spike abandoned the van on one of the side streets down around Fisherman's Wharf...he wanted to get away from the North Beach area as fast as possible. He considered his options...he could not check into a hotel, since Aletta's people would soon be out scouring the city for him. Spike ducked into one of the garish souvenir shops that lined the wharf and bought a baseball cap; along with a pair of sweatshirts that featured the Golden Gate bridge. Back on the street, he shoved the unconscious Slayer against a wall and yanked one of the shirts over her head. Then he pulled on the other one, folding his duster under his arm. It wouldn't help much...but might buy them some time.
He hailed a cab and bundled the Slayer inside. "Uh...Golden Gate Park," he directed. It was the only place he could think of.
The park was nearly deserted at this hour....he found a bench and set the Slayer down. A panhandler approached them; Spike drained him swiftly, letting some of the blood trickle into the Slayer's mouth. He lifted her again; and this time she was able to keep on her feet, stumbling a little as he pulled her along.
They struggled into the Haight-Asbury district; and instantly Spike realized they'd come to the right place. This district was a mecca for the bizarre and the strange; he and his companion attracted no attention at all.
He led her down one of the side streets...and then, his luck kicked in. Farther down, he saw a cab pull up...and two women, one tall and slim, the other short and dumpy, came down the steps clutching several suitcases.
Suitcases? Alerted, Spike stepped behind a tree, carefully observing. "Jess, did you empty the refrigerator? We'll be gone for two weeks!" the short woman asked nervously.
The tall one sighed. "Yes, Susan...I did. And I stopped the mail, and checked the locks. Nobody will tamper with anything while we're in Mexico! Now let's go or we'll miss our flight!"
Spike watched the cab drive away; and grinned wolfishly. "Guess what, pet? We have a home for the next two weeks!"
He carried Buffy to the door of the drak gray Victorian, and studied the neat brass plates. Six apartments...and 4B was listed under Pierson, S. and Mulney, J. Obviously Susan and Jess.
They had good taste, Spike decided. A tiny living room with a wood floor and a terra- cotta fireplace. The bedroom was larger...two windows, but with thick wine velvet drapes and shades...evidently they valued their privacy.
He placed the Slayer on the bed; and as he did, she began to stir once more. He almost panicked; she would need to feed, and what had he to give her?
The bed was sturdy- a genuine brass antique with a wheel style headboard. Spike still had the handcuffs Dru had used in his coat pocket. Quickly he fastened the unconscious Slayer's arms above her head, then used his belt to tie her feet. He grabbed a large jar from the kitchen, washed it clean, and tucked it in one pocket.
If only he could make it back before the Slayer came awake!
Instantly she yanked on the cuffs, rattling them against the brass posts.
"Take it easy, pet," Spike said calmly, grateful he'd thought to gag her.
She ignored him, yanking the cuffs again, leaving deep scratches in the brass.
"Stop that!" he ordered sharply.
Her struggles only intensified.
Spike took a deep, unneeded breath, and backhanded the Slayer across the face.
Buffy stared at him in shock...but stopped moving.
"All right. You stay quiet." He eased the gag from her mouth slowly...but she didn't seem interested in screaming the place down.
"I'm going to give you something to eat; try to sip it slowly." Carefully he poured a little of the blood into a glass, and held it to her lips. As the scent of fresh blood hit, she vamped and growled, gulping avidly. He refilled the glass twice more before she was sated, and her face resumed human shape.
Spike watched her intently. An ordinary vampire who'd been deprived of blood so long would be a wild and raving, overcome by bloodlust, but she didn't seem violent.
Carefully he untied her legs and unlocked the handcuffs.
She was looking around with interest. "Where..."
Spike forestalled her. "You and I, Cutie, are holed up in Haight-Asbury, in a flat owned by two women named Susan and Jess who are presently en route to Mexico City.
Buffy frowned. "Hiding? But why?"
"We've had a spot of trouble," Spike explained, wincing at the understatement. "Look, Slayer, why don't you tell me what you remember?"
"Singing," Buffy said suddenly. "I was visiting my father...and one evening I popped out to the drugstore- and started fighting some vampires. Five, I think...and I staked everyone but then it all...went black. I remember waking...tied up like this. Drusilla was brushing my hair, and she shoved one of her stupid dolls in my face, and then..."
"Yeah, well, never mind that," Spike said hastily.
"How long was I out?" Buffy asked suddenly.
"Five days," Spike said.
"Five..." she muttered. "I have to...Spike, I have to tell Giles! He'll worry that something's happened to me!"
Spike took a deep breath, just to steady his nerves. "Something has, pet. That wasn't exactly tomato juice you've been guzzling, you know."
She stared at him, her sea-colored eyes dilating in horror. "You mean I'm...I'm...."
He didn't answer; he didn't have to.
With a muffled scream, she hurtled off the bed...and fell to the floor as her numbed feet failed to support her.
"Take it easy." He helped her up; and she clung to him, shivering violently.
"Mirror," she whispered.
"Right there, luv, above the dresser." He indicated the glass which reflected only their surroundings.
She stared for a long moment, then flung herself face down on the bed and cried like a heartbroken child.
Spike stared in astonishment; he'd seen many fledglings wake up for the first time, but never before had he seen one react like this. Suspicion bloomed into certainty.
"My God...you've got a sodding soul, haven't you?"
Buffy only cried harder.
"Cheer up, pet, it's not as bad as all that," Spike offered, feeling strangely inadequate. "Must have happened 'cause you're a Slayer. Most vampires like to kill a Slayer outright...takes a thundering loony to turn one!"
She lifted her head slightly. "If only she had...killed me. I'd rather be dead!"
"Now, none of that!" Spike ordered. "Death is...so very permanent, luv!"
Unconsoled, she buried her face in the pillow and wept again.
Spike had had enough. Gingerly, he sat on the bed beside her and awkwardly patted her back. It seemed to work...her sobs diminished, until finally she lay quietly.
Pleased, he patted her some more. He hardly ever touched anyone.....other than in a violent way, of course...and it really felt rather nice. She was soft, and unusually warm for a vampire...
Buffy rolled over, and looked up at him through tear-filled eyes.
"Why? Why would she do this?"
"She's not all there, pet," he told her truthfully. "She had in mind you'd be...a sort of present. For Angel."
"Angel," she repeated hopelessly.
"Uh...have you thought, luv...perhaps now the two of you..."
She was shaking her head vehemently. "Angel...he...he's changed, since he went to L.A. I've been worried about him...he hates other vampires so much! He wouldn't be able to deal with...deal with me. Not like this!"
Spike cursed inwardly. She'd been settling down nicely; and now she was all worked up again.
"Look, kitten, let's handle one thing at a time? Right!"
She frowned. "Why do we...both of us...reek of smoke? And we're wet and...clammy!"
"Then that's the first thing!" Spike grinned at her. "I know what to do about that, luv!"
He dashed into the blue-tiled bathroom and turned on the water.
Buffy swung her legs to the floor and promptly fell. "Owww!"
Spike picked her up. "Those boots are too large, pet. Better see what Susan's got...or Jess!"
He carried her into the bathroom and carefully stripped off her clothes.
"Hey!" she protested. "What do you think..."
"Relax," he couldn't help smirking at her. "I've already seen all there is to see, pet. Now you get cleaned up while I find us someting to wear."
He found a grey sweatsuit that probably belonged to the rangy Jess. Susan, though as short as the Slayer, was a bit heavier....he finally settled for a denim jumper over a peach sweater, and some thick socks.
Buffy wandered into the bedroom, wrapped in a fluffy white towel.
"Oh good, you found something." She let the towel fall as she reached for the clothes.
"Stop!" Spike yelled. "What are you up to?"
"But you said you'd seen everything," she said innocently.
He glared at her, then stomped into the bathroom to take his turn in the shower. When he finally emerged, she was curled up on the couch watching television. He watched her a moment, without her noticing. She had combed through her wet hair and it was already starting to dry in soft tendrils around her face. She'd wound herself up in a multi-colored afghan; and she looked adorable.
Spike walked over and sat down next to her. "Watching the news, pet?"
"It's not on yet," she answered guiltily.
He grinned, knowing she'd never even thought of it. She caught his eye; and they both laughed.
She had been watching some ice show.
"You go for this, luv?"
"I used to. Once I thought....maybe even the Olympics. But the best I could do was a bronze in the regionals..." her voice trailed off; and he didn't need to ask why she'd given it up.
Instead he said quietly," I'll bet you were good, pet. I can tell by the way you dance."
Buffy shook her head. "Not good enough."
But she smiled at him, and pulled a section of her afghan over his bare feet. He looked at her in surprise, but said nothing.
Instead he reached for the remote.
"Mine," she said, holding it out of his grasp. "No way!" He launched himself at her, and the two of them wrestled playfully. He tickled her, and she actually giggled...then tickled him back.
She stretched her arms high above her head, as far as she could. "Mine," she repeated, laughing.
He realized abruptly that he was right on top of her....what's more, he was enjoying the sensation.
"We interrupt this program to..."
What? Oh, the telly....
"...the Acadia hotel....burned tonight in a devastating fire..."
"Wow." Buffy stared at the screen in awe. "That's the place where I was a prisoner? Did you do that?"
"I must have," he answered numbly, gazing at pictures of a smoking ruin where the old hotel had stood.
Buffy and Spike stared at one another in shock.
"I have to go there!" Spike jumped to his feet.
"Go where?" Buffy regarded him as if he'd lost his mind. "There's nothing left of that place except the parking lot!"
"But...Drusilla!" he said helplessly.
"If she hadn't come back by the time you...we...left, chances are she never came back at all. I mean, I know Drusilla lives in Bizarro world; as Cordy would say....but she wouldn't charge into an inferno, either."
She considered. "Uh...would she?"
"Of course not," he answered frostily. "Not unless it was to save Miss Edith; and she took that bloody doll with her!"
"There you go..." Buffy began, when he suddenly flung one of the pillows against the wall.
"Argghh! She took Miss Edith with her! Fool that I was not to realize...she never meant to come back!"
"What!" Buffy was highly indignant. "And just left me there like that?!"
"She gave you to me," Spike explained. "She was planning on giving you to Angel for a welcome- home present; but I guess she got bored with waiting, or something...and gave you to me instead."
"Of all the nerve!" Buffy started to fume. "Ooohhh...when I get my hands on that skanky girlfriend of yours..."
"Yes, yes, pet," Spike answered absently, restlessly pacing. "But now what?"
"You think she'd go to that club place?" Buffy frowned.
"Aletta's? There's a thought! But I can't show my face there..."
"No problem," she shrugged. "I can. I'll check it out tomorrow...I guess I mean today! And I can find out all about Drusilla and the fire."
"No bloody way! Look here, Slayer, you've just become...well, the Crown Jewels to every vampire who's made it past fledgling! It's not safe for you to go anywhere on your own."
"Well, you can't come with," she objected. "Aletta, if she's still around, will probably blame you for that fire."
"I guess I am to blame, at that," shrugged Spike.
"She'll be out to get you," Buffy warned.
Spike laughed. "Do you know what the price was, for getting Dru back?"
"What?" Buffy looked at him with interest.
"Killing Angel."
She stared at him in shock.