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Eight (Maybe She Should Have Had Tea)
 
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Peppermint - 189

They ghosted their way through the cemetery, having no trouble following the vampire and the oblivious professor. Spike could hear every one of her inane questions, snorting occasionally and rolling his eyes when she asked something particularly stupid and the vampire with her answered with some random comment. When they were close enough for Buffy to hear as well, they halted by mutual consent and peered through the bushes.

The professor was staring around in confusion. Instead of the "traditional welcoming ceremony" the female vamp had promised her, she seemed to have been left alone in front of large stone crypt, the door of which was hanging off its hinges, leaving a gap into which the vampire had apparently vanished.

"S...Susan?" Professor Inkfel's voice betrayed her growing nervousness. "Are you in here, Susan?" She approached the crypt and peered in apprehensively.

"Oh my God," Buffy muttered. "Please tell me she isn't going to go in there..."

"Time to move, pet," Spike said as, with one last glance around the seemingly deserted cemetery, the professor slipped through the opening.

"At least she's not completely stupid," Buffy said as the beam of a flashlight shone ahead of them. When it began to wave around rapidly, she sighed and gestured for Spike to join her as she moved faster.

They followed the flashlight beam, now coming from the floor of the crypt, and gazed around at a more interesting scene than they'd anticipated. As expected, the struggling professor was now in the process of being tied up, to hang by her arms to be used as a blood source for as long as she lasted. Less expected were the two Initiative soldiers hanging up next to her, both looking considerably the worse for wear, but alive.

Spike's snarl, Buffy realized with a start, was directed at the two bloodied soldiers rather than at the small band of surprised vampires approaching them.

"Spike!" she hissed. "Focus!"

Ignoring her, he walked closer to the commandos, smiling as they cringed in fear of his true face. He ran his tongue up one man's bleeding arm, closing his eyes and sighing in happiness as the warm blood coated his tongue. Another snarl directed at the younger vampires objecting to his tasting their victims brought a loud complaint.

"We got here first," the nearest one snarled back. "You can take your catch somewhere else. These belong to us."

Spike took another swipe at the bleeding soldier, sticking his tongue into the open wound and licking it dry. The man's groan, and Buffy's shocked gasp, snapped him out of his euphoria. His eyes flew to her, to find her mesmerized by his actions, a sick look on her face and her eyes suspiciously shiny. She was so busy staring at Spike that she appeared to have forgotten the other five vampires in the crypt. While none of them would have been a match for her if she'd been paying attention, her distraction was all that was needed for one to hit her on the head with piece of crumbled stone.

Spike looked back and forth from the still-bleeding soldier to Buffy's inert body, his own expression fading from surprise to self disgust. His roar echoed throughout the crypt as realization set in. Buffy was hurt and it was his fault. He was across the space and pulling her safely away from center of the room before her attacker had even seen him move. After reassuring himself that she was alive and regaining consciousness, he stood up to face the other vamps.

"Hey, man, we'll share her. That's the Slayer; her blood can keep us all high for a week."

Professor Inkfel, seemingly forgotten in the excitement, was attempting to sneak past the preoccupied vampires and out the door but her sobbing breaths brought attention back to her and she was quickly recaptured.

"Susan?" she asked with a pitiful whimper. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because she's a freakin' vampire, you moron!"

Spike didn't know when he'd been quite so happy to hear the Slayer's voice; he turned to look at her. She was on her feet, trying to shake off the effects of her encounter with the stone. She was also clearly furious, and he began backing away. Too stupid to take their hint from his behavior, and too cocky after having gotten in the one lucky hit, the four remaining vampires that weren't busy tying up the professor converged on Buffy, only to find themselves the recipients of a full-fledged Slayer tantrum. Furious at the vamps for getting the drop on her, on herself for allowing that to happen, at Spike for being the distraction, and at the professor for being an idiot, she waded into them, fists and feet flying.

Spike watched carefully, but she didn't seem to be having any trouble working out her issues on them, and was, in fact, already down to only two opponents. He stopped watching and walked over to Susan, pulling her away from the professor and shaking her unconscious. He helped the sobbing woman to her feet and shoved her towards the door.

"Stand over there," he ordered, "but don't go outside without one of us."

When she just stood still, shaking all over and staring at his face, he realized that he was still wearing his fangs and wrinkles; he quickly shook it back to normal. Released from her fearful inability to move, she ran to the door and stood there whimpering.

Buffy had finished staking the remaining vamps, and walked over to where Susan was just struggling to a sitting position. She glared down at the snarling vampire, frowning with recognition.

"Hey, I know you. You were in my English class."

"Were being the operative word, Slayer," Spike said. "Looks like she was elected to be the bait for the night."

"Her hard luck," Buffy said, staking the demon without a change of expression.

They turned as one to look at the two commandos still hanging from the ceiling.

"Can I trust you to cut them down without helping yourself to any of the blood they don't need to lose more of?"

He nodded, dropping his eyes so as not to read the disappointment in her face. Without speaking, he walked over to the frightened soldiers and stared into their faces. Their eyes darted back and forth between Buffy, who they had quickly determined was the "slayer" that they'd been told to watch for, and the vampire that fit the description of the escaped hostile they had also been ordered to look for.

Spike couldn't prevent his fangs from elongating as he worked around the bleeding men, trying to get them down without hurting them any more than he already had. Although he had no intention of angering Buffy by sampling any more of their blood, he saw no reason to share that with them. He made sure they noticed his fangs as he lowered them to the floor.

Buffy, meanwhile, was studying a communicator that she had found. She walked over and handed it to the man who seemed to be most able to use his arms.

"Here," she said. "You can call your buddies for help."

Without another word to the bewildered soldiers, she walked to the door and nudged Professor Inkfel outside. Spike trailed the two women as they made their way toward the gate, flashing his fangs every time the older woman cast a fearful look over her shoulder.

Buffy glared at him when she realized what he was doing, snapping, "Stop it, Spike."

"You don't let me have any fun," he muttered, moving up to walk beside her.

"I didn't stake you for licking that guy," she said evenly. "Wasn't that enough fun for one night?"

"About that..."

"Save it." She turned her attention to the confused professor. "Where do you live? We'll walk you home."

"He's a vampire!" Professor Inkfel pointed at Spike. "Your young man is a vampire!"

"He's not my—" Buffy sighed. "Yes, he's a vampire. But he can't hurt you. All he can do is make ugly faces and try to scare people."

Spike's snarl was genuine and Buffy automatically reached for her stake, knowing her casual dismissal of his ability to hurt anyone had hit its mark. She relaxed when he subsided into barely audible muttering. Muttering which increased in volume and quantity when the professor stage whispered: "Is he tame?"

Buffy's snorts of laughter only increased the volume of the growls and mutters, which caused the professor to move even farther away from Spike.

When they reached a small bungalow near the campus, she halted and said hesitantly, "Would you...I mean...the house is dark..."

Buffy rolled her eyes, as did Spike. "Vampires can't get in unless they're invited. You didn't invite Susan in, did you?" Professor Inkfel's guilty face was all the response they needed. "Fine!" Buffy said. "We'll check out the house and then we're going to give you a lesson on living in Sunnydale."

They followed her onto the porch, Spike stopping at the threshold when she opened the door to usher them in.

"He needs an invitation," Buffy instructed as the older woman frowned at Spike.


"But I already gave Susan an invitation, doesn't that mean..."

"Was only good for her," Spike said. "And she's not going to be using it anytime soon."

"Oh. Okay. C...come in, then."

Spike swaggered across the threshold and stared around the book-filled room. While Buffy walked through the house with the professor, who was now insisting they call her "Heloise", Spike wandered around the living room, reading the spines of the books on the shelves and those lying around on every horizontal surface in the room.

"Hard to believe she's as ignorant as she is, with all this reading material," he muttered, even as he picked up a lurid paperback with the title How to Trap a Vampire. With a snort, he threw it back on the table and plopped himself into a chair. Just to be able to say he'd made himself useful, he extended his senses but heard nothing to indicate there was anyone or anything in the small house except the three of them.

When Buffy came back with Heloise, she raised an inquiring eyebrow at Spike and he shook his head. She nodded and said, "Well, there you go, Profe- Heloise. There's nobody in the house except us."

Smiling her thanks, Heloise said timidly, "Can I offer you some homemade cookies and something to drink?"

Spike perked up at the word drink, but quickly realized she didn't mean the kind of drink he preferred.

"I have juice, water and several different kinds of tea," she continued. "Chamomile, Peppermint, Lemon-herb..."

"Water is fine," Buffy said. "Then we have to get back out to work."

"This is what you do? Rescue people?"

"Sometimes. Mostly I try to get to the vamps before they have anybody I might need to rescue. Hence the being in the cemetery when you were. I try to catch them when they've just risen. I save a lot more people that way than I do if I wait they're being attacked."

"But," Heloise gestured at Spike. "What if they're good vampires...like your young man?"

While Spike choked and sputtered, Buffy shook her head and tried to explain.

"Spike is...different. He can control himself—most of the time," she added with a glare that let him know she hadn't forgotten his taking advantage of the bleeding men they'd rescued. "And right now he has no choice. He can't hurt humans, only vampires and demons. So he's safe to be around." She cocked her head at him and said, almost to herself, "You won't find any other vampires like him in Sunnydale...or anywhere else."

Heloise sighed. "There is just so much I don't know..." She waved her hand at the books filling the small room. "The information is all so contradictory. That's why I wanted to do my own studies—without any preconceived ideas."

Spike gave another snort. "Good idea," he said. "You aren't going to get much from most of these pieces of trash except things that will get you dead."

"Maybe I could study you?" she asked innocently, flinching when Spike went into game face and began to snarl. She stared at Buffy with fearful confusion as the Slayer went over to the growling vampire and spoke soothingly.

"She didn't mean it that way, Spike. You know she didn't. And I wouldn't let it happen, anyway."

"Works for the same bloody university, doesn't she?" he managed to get out between growls.

"I don't think Dr. Walsh's experiments have anything to do with the college. It's an Army program. I'd guess the school doesn't know anything about it."

She was stroking his shoulder and kneeling on the couch beside him as she tried to talk him out of his justifiable suspicion and fear. Eventually he relaxed back into his normal face and smiled sheepishly. "Sorry," he said, including Heloise in his mumbled apology.

Buffy sat down beside him on the couch, keeping one hand on his leg as she turned back to Heloise.

"I don't think Spike would be a good choice," she said, although it was already obvious the Heloise had completely rethought the idea. "But I can introduce you to my Watcher. Giles can explain a lot more than I can about vampires and demons; and his books are way better than yours."

"Some are, some aren't, Slayer," Spike put in. "Council of Wankers doesn't know everything. And neither does Rupert."

Heloise frowned at Buffy. "This man...Giles? knows more than you do? But aren't you the Slayer?"

"Slayers are the weapons," Spike said shortly. "The Watchers are the wankers that use them."

"And on that cheerful note..." Buffy stood up and pulled Spike to his feet. "Keep your door locked, and don't invite anyone in unless they are standing in full sunlight." She grabbed one of many pieces of paper lying around and scribbled down Giles' name and phone number. "Tell him I told you to call," she said, handing it to Heloise.

With more assurances that she'd be perfectly safe in her own house and/or in broad daylight, Buffy and Spike said goodnight and left, walking down the street with no particular destination in mind. Spike pointed towards the dorm area of the campus.

Buffy looked at him in surprise. "No. Not yet. We haven't even patrolled yet. Not really."

"Saved three people and dusted a bunch of vamps that had probably been feeding like that for some time. I'd say it's a good night's work."

"I suppose... Why don't you show me where you think you're going to live? If we get lucky, I might get to slay something on the way there."

"Ifyou get lucky, you mean."

"Hey! If you hadn't been so busy slurping up blood that didn't belong to you, you would have had plenty of chances to slay. Like, for instance, the smelly guy that bopped me on the head!"

"Speaking of which..." He tugged on her arm until she slowed, then turned her around and carefully felt the lump on her head.

"Ow!" Immediately, Spike's chip fired, sending him reeling back, holding his own head.

"I'm sorry!" Buffy frowned in sympathy. "I didn't mean to yell."

"My fault, pet," he said through gritted teeth. "Should have known it would hurt you for me to be poking at it." He cocked his head at her. "You probably should have asked the good professor for some ice for that. I should have thought of it."

"It's not your job to take care of me," she said dismissively. "You just signed on to help me slay."

"Might not be my job, but I—

"You what?"

"Nothing." He nodded at the convenience store they were nearing. "Let's pop in here and get some ice, yeah? It's not too late to take that goose egg down a little."

"I'll just wait here," Buffy said, sitting on a bus stop bench. "I think I'm feeling a little woozy now..." Now that the adrenalin was gone from her system, even slayer healing and recovery couldn't quite convince her brain that it hadn't been concussed, and she was suddenly grateful for Spike's presence.

He was in and out of the store very quickly, a cup of crushed ice in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. Buffy raised her eyebrows, but didn't ask him how he'd obtained either item, just watched as he put the ice in the bag and handed it to her. She sat with the ice bag on her head, shutting her eyes and enjoying the way it soothed the ache that had taken up residence in her head. She didn't even realize that she'd fallen asleep until she began to topple over and a strong arm went around her. The ice bag tumbled to the ground while she straightened up with a surprised "eep!"

"Buffy?" Spike's concerned eyes told her that she hadn't imagined falling, nor had she imagined the strong arm that had caught her. His right arm was wrapped tightly around her shoulders while his left hand brushed the hair off her face.

"I'm fine," she insisted, not moving away from him, but holding herself erect. "I just got a little too relaxed."

"Well, just in case you decide to do any more relaxing like that, you're going to do it in your own bed." He stood up. "Let's go. I'm taking you home."

"You're not the boss of me."

Her lower lip came out in the pout he'd become so familiar with for those few hours when it was always within his reach. Resisting the urge to bite it, he laughed, tugging her hand and pulling her up to stand beside him. "Nobody knows that better than I do, Slayer. But you need to rest your addled little head. I'll make a pass through Restfield before I go home for the night."

"Well...if you promise to patrol for me..."

"I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die."

"You're already dead," she pointed out, walking beside him and wondering when he was going to notice that he hadn't released her hand. When he gave no sign that he was planning to let go, she reluctantly pulled it away, sending him an apologetic smile as she did so. She didn't miss the flash of pain in his eyes, and sighed as she said, "We can't walk around like that. It would give people the wrong impression."

"What impression might that be?" he grumbled.

"That you...that I...that we..." She shrugged helplessly.

"Thanks for clearing that up," he muttered as they reached her dorm.

Once again, he held the door for her. This time she had no comment but "thanks" as she ducked under his arm and entered the building. Without speaking, he followed her up the stairs and waited while she unlocked her dorm room. Buffy entered, then turned and shuffled her feet, not looking at him.

"Do you want..."

Spike stepped inside and closed the door. He noted that Willow's bed was once again empty.

"I'll just see that you're safely tucked in and then I'll be on my way, pet."
Buffy nodded, then winced as it jiggled the bump on her head. She picked up her pajamas from the foot of her bed and threw them over her shoulder. "I'll be right back," she said, grabbing her toothbrush and going out the door.

Spike waited patiently, sitting on Willow's neatly made bed and wondering idly where the witch was that she was so often missing from the dorm room late at night. He stood up when Buffy came back into the room and put her things down. She was wearing the same cotton pajamas she'd had on the first night he followed her to her room, and she tugged on the short shirt, remembering how he'd peeked at her in the mirror.

Spike's thoughts went the same place and he shifted uncomfortably as he remembered her perky little breasts and flat, tanned stomach. He stood up and moved toward the door.

"If you're all... I'll just be going then..."

In spite of what he'd said, he stopped before he got halfway to the door. Buffy was staring at him, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. She took an involuntary step toward him, as he was moving almost without volition toward her. When they were only inches apart, they stopped, Buffy's chest heaving with the breaths she was taking, Spike's hands at his sides, clenching and unclenching his fists. It was hard to say who moved first, but suddenly Buffy's arms were around his neck and his were banded around her waist.
 
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