CHAPTER 12: Blink Three Times

“Sam, you’re always leaving your right side open,” Spike said in frustration as he placed a kick to her right kidney and she fell like a stone. He stood over her, hands on hips, shaking his head. “It’s obvious to any demon fighting you. They’ll pick up on it within minutes, Kansas.”

Sam cursed, clutching her side. Her blond dreadlocks hid her face. “Then I guess,” she gasped, “that I’ll have to kill them within those first few minutes.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “You can’t take a chance like that! You need to break that habit.”

She sat up and shrugged. “What does it matter? I’m a slayer, I’m going to die sooner or later. And when I do, there will be another to take my place.”

Spike stared at her in shock. “What the hell kind of thinking is that? Are you daft?”

Struggling to her foot, she faced him. She was a big girl, his height, big boned and muscular. He had to admit that he had a soft spot for her. She wasn’t the typical slayer type, she wasn’t light on her feet but she was very, very strong. Spike thought she was the smartest of the lot, the one with the most common sense, which was why her fatalistic attitude shocked him and he wondered how prevalent it was amongst the other slayers. He’d need to speak to Giles about it, warn him.

Speaking of Giles...

He held out a hand and she handed him the stake she was carrying. “Go clean up. If I’m not mistaken, I believe that Giles and Harris have arrived.”


She grinned. “You don’t sound too excited. Usually people around here get excited when Giles and Xander arrive.”

Grimacing, he said, “Well, I am unusual I guess. Not much about Old Rupert and Harris to get excited about.”

“Good luck,” she said.

He looked at her in surprise. “Thanks, pet.”

Then Spike turned around and headed upstairs to face his own personal demons.

***

Dawn curled up in Xander’s lap and kissed his cheek. “I missed you,” she murmured.

He smiled and hugged her close. “Not as much as I missed you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” he replied and they stared at each other, smiling, in raptures.

“Oh sodding hell,” Spike muttered as he walked into the room and saw Dawnie perched in Harris’ lap. From all appearances it looked like Xander had grown into his own; he didn’t look like a such a wanker. Or a git or whelp, or any of the other names Spike had called him over the years. Apparently, Spike thought with a grimace, he was going to have to come up with some new nicknames. The parts of Harris that weren’t hidden by Dawn revealed a tall, muscular man, with stubble, razor short dark hair and that eye patch that gave him a piratical air that Spike couldn’t help but envy. Xander looked tough and ready to handle any situation and fight any demon.

Whether he’d improved as much in the brains and strategy department remained to be seen, but even Spike had to concede that Xander had aged well and looked like a solid fighter.

Dawn shot Spike a warning look which he obeyed. He nodded to her and then quickly took his position next to his own Summers woman.

“I like the patch, Harris,” he said, not quite smiling at him. “Suits you.”

“Thanks, Spike,” Xander replied, tightening his hold on his wife and subtly relaying a message. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

Spike grinned. “One of the benefits of immortality. I get to keep my young and handsome self.”

“Thought you might have changed the look though, it’s quite old and dated,” Giles said as he walked in with a cup of tea.

Spike’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Old?’ Rupert had the nerve to talk to him about looking old? Giles had aged dramatically over the last decade. His once light brown hair was completely white and his face was lined. Apparently running an order of Slayers and Watchers was difficult work.

“Some things never change,” Spike said with a smirk. He glanced at the tea. “Cup o’ tea, cup o’ tea and that’s about it eh, Rip?”

Giles set the cup down on the table and sat. “It’s good to see you too, Spike.”

Willow placed a tray of cookies and muffins on the coffee table and Xander immediately snatched two of them. She glanced at Spike with a smile. “Chantal is bringing you something to drink.”

Xander snorted around his muffin. “Some things never change,” he said with a grin. “Cup o’ blood, cup o’ blood eh, Spike?”

Dawn gently tightened her grip on his shoulders and he looked abashed and sent her a quick glance of apology. She shook her head in warning.

Spike felt his own not so gentle reprimand as the slayer dug her nails into his arm. “You keep doing things like that and it’s right upstairs we’re going, Slayer,” he murmured.

Xander shook his head and muttered something under his breath. Spike just smirked.

“Truce,” Buffy finally said, unable to handle the posturing any longer. “That’s enough. Pull it together. We have a new big bad in town and we need to get our shit together and see it through.”

Willow nodded and sat down. Chantal came in and handed Spike a mug of blood. He thanked her and she curled up on a pillow at Willow’s feet.

Buffy grabbed a cookie and looked over at Willow. “Will, fill them in on what’s going on.”

Pulling out her notes, Willow flipped through them. “Here’s what I’ve been able to figure out. We’ve got a genie on our hands. Mid sixth century, Indian. A powerful one that can control the elements. Our source tells us that an ancient Indian oil lamp was smuggled into the city about a week ago. The empath demon used to traffic these sorts of things is dead.”

“Do we have any empaths on our payroll?” Xander asked.

Giles shook his head. “They work for themselves, which is probably why this one got killed. If he refused to work for the person who brought the shipment in, he’d be eliminated.”

Xander shrugged. “If we had one, we could have set him up as the next middle man and see what he could dig up.”

“I started doing some research and I think I’ve dug something up,” Willow continued. “Devi Bhuta, is a possibility. She was a minor demon goddess in the Hindi pantheon. Her great claim to fame was that she loved a human prince, but he was wed to another. Her rival made a deal with a God, and Bhuta was trapped in a lamp and given to a distant cousin as a wedding present. Throughout the centuries she’s been given as a gift to Indian princes and some of them figured out how to release and use her power, and some didn’t. About the eleventh century, we lose track of the lamp.”

“What makes you think it’s that one?” Buffy asked.

“The description is similar, blue oil lamp etched in ancient symbols. Oh, and she’s known for her capricious nature and likes to play around with nature.”

Spike shrugged. “So why the big bad? It’s a pissy Goddess in a lamp who takes out her temper tantrums on Mother Nature.”

“Remember the last time we had to deal with a pissed off Goddess?” Buffy asked sarcastically. “I ended up dead.”

“Point taken.” Frowning, he turned to Willow. “Okay, Red, what do we have to do?”

“We have to figure out who has it. This person has an incredible amount of power in their hands.”

“Isn’t it a matter of three wishes and then you’re done?” Xander asked.

Willow shook her head. “Myth. Fact is, once a genie is let out of its bottle, its power is at your disposal only so long as you please it. Having a genie under your control is a balancing act. There’s usually a payment of some sort for every wish granted. And those genies like to show off. It just isn’t the wishes of their benefactor. Once released, they can play as much as they want.” She pointed outside to the dim day and the piles of snow. “This is a genie showing off. Showing their benefactor what they can do, sweetening the deal so to say. But a demon with this amount of power, one that can control the elements, and is out of control, is dangerous.”

Spike nodded. “Got it. So how do we kill it?”

“We can’t,” Willow replied. “We have to find the benefactor, find the lamp and reseal the genie inside. Then a spell is cast to enslave the genie and bind her so that she can’t be released.”

“Can’t we destroy the lamp?” Dawn asked.

Willow shook her head. “No, it makes it that much harder to bind the genie if his or her ‘temple’ has been destroyed. Whatever we do, we can’t destroy the lamp – either before or after we get the genie back in the bottle.”

“I don’t know about you, but all this talk is making me want to blink repeatedly,” Spike said with a chuckle.

Buffy laughed. “I know. I feel like we are suddenly going to go around calling each other master.”

“You can call me master,” he said with a leer.

Punching him gently, she murmured, “Later.”

He laughed again and pulled her closer, then glanced up to find a circle of gazes settled on them. “What are you lot looking at?”

They all quickly averted their eyes, but Spike saw Dawn’s secret smile and if he wasn’t mistaken, Red gave him a quick nod of approval.

It was an odd situation for him to be in. The Scooby gang back together and him sitting there among them, with Buffy, accepted and included.

Perhaps, he thought suddenly, the genie had granted him one of his wishes.

The thought filled him with panic. What if this wasn’t real? A spell?

He turned to Willow. “Red, could the genie grant wishes that someone hasn’t asked for?”

She looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if someone wished for something, like really wanted it. Say, they wished to be thinner or younger looking, could the genie just grant that wish?”

She shook her head. “Not without you knowing it. Remember what I said, when it comes to wish fulfillment, there is a reciprocal arrangement. Something given and something taken.”

No genie granting him his wishes then. He glanced around the gang and then at the woman at his side.

But that didn’t mean that he might not have to pay for this happiness at some point. Which left him wondering if the PTB would eventually come looking for some kind of payment. And if they did, would Spike be able to afford it?