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Chapter 16: Annoying Heiresses

Spike whipped around and stared at her.

There was no doubt their hostess was a gorgeous woman. Tall and slim, her long black hair spoke of Italian heritage, while her large features and elegant nose reflected the French blood in her family tree. Standing there in a crimson dress, she looked powerful and deadly.

“I believe that’s mine,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Not anymore,” Buffy replied coldly.

“Who are you?” Bianca asked in surprise. She glanced at Spike. “Who are you and your vampire companion?”

He started and Bianca smiled. “I smelled you when you walked in to the ballroom,” she said. She leaned towards him and inhaled. “Beneath the stench of that soul of yours, I can still smell the brimstone and ash of hell.”

He decided in that instant that he hated this woman. Casting a glance at Buffy, he asked, “Can I kill her?” he asked.

Buffy looked startled. “Why ask me?”

“You know, soul and all, I’ve got me a conscience now, not sure I can deal with killing her unless I have a really good reason.”

“She had the empath demon and who knows how many others killed to get this lamp,” Buffy pointed out. “And she’s probably planning some sort of apocalyptic event to demonstrate her new found power. You don’t need my permission.”

Spike shifted into his game face and grinned at Bianca. “What kind of demon are you anyway? I’d like to know so that when I do kill you I make sure it’s permanent.”

She let loose a high pitched peel of laughter. “I’m not a demon, vampire. If I were, do you think I would need the power of a genie?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Point taken,” he said amicably. “So it doesn’t matter then exactly how I kill you. Since you’re human, dead is pretty much dead.”

She sneered in pure malevolence. “You can’t kill me either, fool. Do you think a dead heiress will go unnoticed?”

“In my experience,” Spike replied. “Most heiresses are silly little bints and are better left unnoticed.” He glanced over at Buffy. “But, she’s got a point. Again.” Spike really hated this bitch.

Buffy shrugged. “Then hurt her. Badly.”

As Spike moved to grab their hostess, she opened her mouth and cried out. “Devi Bhuta!”

When nothing happened, Bianca’s eyes widened. “Devi Bhuta!” she commanded angrily.

Buffy grinned and held up the lamp. “You can knock all you want. No one’s answering the door.”

“What have you done?” Bianca hissed.

Buffy waved her hand. “Oh, just a little lullaby spell. It put your genie to sleep.”

“You bitch!” Bianca screamed.

“Buffy would suffice. You don’t know me well enough to call me bitch!” Buffy said as she backed up against the dressing table, clutching the lamp. She glanced around and didn’t like the circumstances. Spike was deeper into the dressing room, further from Bianca and the door. Buffy, while closer to the door, would have to fight past their hostess to escape. Willow’s warning echoed in her ears. ‘Don’t break the lamp!’ There was something else she’d said, something important. But as Bianca’s claw like hands reached for her, Buffy couldn’t remember that something else. Bottom line, she had to get that lamp out of there in one piece. If… Her eyes met Spike’s. She lifted the lamp and nodded to him.

“Catch!” She threw him the lamp and didn’t even watch to see if he caught it; she had no doubt that he could and would. She turned her attention to Bianca and focused on teaching the uppity snob just which bitch she was dealing with.

Spike watched in horror as Buffy threw the lamp to him. It arched through the air towards the floor and the memory of Willow’s voice reverberating in his head. “Don’t break,” he muttered as he lunged across the dressing room. “Don’t bloody break!” He stretched out, reaching as far as he could, and he felt the fragile lamp tumble into his hands. “Argghghghg!”

He crashed into the floor, cradling it to his chest. And then he looked up to find his slayer deliver one last kick to their hostess.

“Buffy?”

She glanced over at him, panting.

“Yeah?”

He looked down at the lamp, an odd expression on his face. “I think something went wrong.”

She paled. “What?”

“The lamp is warm, is it supposed to be warm? Sort of hot even?”

Buffy’s eyes widened in horror as she remembered that last important bit Willow had told her. “The lamp has been activated by Bianca,” Willow had explained. “You’re only putting it to sleep. Once you’ve done the spell, don’t let anyone else touch it. It can’t leave your hands. You need to bring it straight home so we can finish sealing it in. Otherwise, if someone else touches it, they will awaken the genie and it will be under their command.”

Buffy cursed and, glancing down at the architect of this whole mess, she gave the groaning woman one last kick. “I suggest you leave town,” she muttered. Then she looked at Spike, who was staring down at the lamp in growing fascination. “Spike, we need to get home. NOW!”