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Love Sanctioned by slaymesoftly
 
Fourteen
 
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Chapter Fourteen

With Doyle’s help, and Buffy’s grudgingly given assent, Spike was able to convince both Giles and Wesley to give him the night to get a meeting arranged with the Mayor. He was just preparing to leave, hoping to be “found” at Willy’s sooner rather than later, when Faith and Xander walked into the crowded apartment.

Without a word to anyone else, the younger slayer walked up to Spike and got into his personal space.

“You bit me,” she growled, her eyes never leaving his and searching for any sign of fear or threat.

“I scratched you,” he corrected mildly, refusing to flinch from the proximity to an angry slayer. “Might have saved your life – it’s not like you could have fought me and another vamp at the same time.” The lack of bravado in his flat statement was the only thing that kept Faith’s temper in check. He was telling the truth, and they both knew it. If he’d really intended to kill her, she would be dead.

“Oh yeah.” She fought back the only way she could. “That’s right. You had an undead honey hanging all over you.” She sent a quick glance Buffy’s way, but was met with a hard stare that told her Spike had already explained away the other vampire’s presence. “So, what’s the plan for tonight? Spend some more time with the ho-vamp?”

“Not all that turned on by dust,” he said quietly, shrugging and turning away in a deliberate show of fearlessness. Ignoring Faith’s furious glare, he walked over to Buffy and kissed her lightly. “I’ll be leavin’ now, love. You might want to check Willy’s later on and see if he’ll tell you where I went. Could make it sound like you’d just learned I’m in town and were lookin’ to kick my arse. Again,” he added with a smile meant only for her.

“Okay,” she agreed dubiously. “But you be careful. Don’t trust the Mayor or Trick.”

“Didn’t get to be this old by bein’ careless, love.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, remembering the brash vampire who had come to Sunnydale intent on making her his third dead slayer. “Yeah, right,” she muttered, walking him to the door.

With a nod to the watchers, and a wink at a still-fuming Faith, Spike left the apartment and got into his car. The presence of another vampire had barely registered on him before he found himself losing consciousness as the minion hiding in the back seat brought the blackjack down on his head in a very professional manner. It took only a few seconds for Spike’s inert body to be dragged from the car and thrown into a nearby van that was already moving before the minions were fully inside.

Inside the apartment, Buffy suddenly gasped and clutched her head, shaking it in confusion when Giles asked what was wrong.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just felt something weird for a second – like Spike was…” Her voice trailed off as everyone relaxed.

“He just left, Buffy,” Willow pointed out helpfully. “He probably isn’t even out of the parking lot yet. What could happen?”

“You’re right, Will. It’s probably nothing. He can’t be in trouble already…”

Even as she spoke, Buffy was edging towards the window, pulling back the curtain to peer into the well-lit parking lot. To her surprise, she saw the Desoto still sitting where Spike had parked it, the doors on the driver’s side gaping open. With a cry, she was out the door and to the car before anyone even registered that she’d left.

Wesley’s “Oh dear,” was quickly followed by Doyle’s “So much for being careful…”

A quick examination of the car’s interior showed a few drops of blood on the back of the driver’s seat, and Spike’s keys resting on the floor mat where they had obviously fallen. Grabbing them quickly, Buffy glared around at the deserted parking lot; her shoulders slumping when she realized that there was no sign of another vehicle and no way to tell in which direction one might have gone. Closing the car doors carefully, she reluctantly followed everyone else back into the apartment.

“So,” Faith drawled, “does this mean we’re moving on to Plan B?”

“So it would seem,” Giles responded with a grimace. “Or, it would, if we actually had a plan B.”

“Buffy?” Willow’s concerned use of her name brought Buffy out of her uncharacteristic silence. “What do you want to do now?”

“Kill them all.”

The cold, flat voice bore little resemblance to the perky teenager with whom they were all familiar, and everyone in the room unconsciously flinched back from the woman standing in front of them. Her face bore no trace of grief or worry, only a cold anger that promised serious pain to anyone who stood between her and her goal. Even Doyle did a quick mental re-evaluation of the benefits of having a slayer mated to a master vampire as he shared a sudden jolt of fear with the humans in the room.

After several minutes of tense silence, Xander finally couldn’t tolerate the tension any longer and he said cheerfully, “Okay. So the bleached wonder is gone. We were doing all right before he got here. We don’t need him to do this. All we need to know is where they took him and we’ll know where the big poobah is. I say we go back to the original plan and hit them now while the numbers are still down.”

While he was speaking, Buffy had been going through the weapons chest and putting stakes in her pockets and other hiding places. She also took out a sword and hefted it experimentally. Without responding to Xander, she headed for the door, ignoring everything but the need to rescue her mate. At Wesley’s indignant, “Where are you going?” she paused only long enough to say with no emotion, “To get Spike back.”

Giles stepped in front of her, doing his best not to flinch from the expression on her face as he said gently, “Buffy, if you will wait just a few moments, we can do a locator spell.” He didn’t add that without it, she would be wasting her time searching all over Sunnydale, but waited quietly as the knowledge made its way through the revenge-focused fog. She gave herself a quick shake and nodded her head. The eyes she raised to his were once again those of the girl he knew so well. Eyes that were filled with the anxiety previously hidden behind the cold rage of a slayer whose mate was in danger.

“Yes – yes, that’s a good idea. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let’s do the spell and then I’ll go kill them all.”

“Okaaaay,” Xander’s voice broke the awkward silence. “I’m detecting a theme here.” While Willow began to set up the locator spell, taking Spike’s keys from Buffy with a tremulous “May I?” the boy began to dig into the weapons chest. He pulled out the crossbows, swords, extra stakes and containers of holy water, offering with a grin, “Pick your poison, ladies and gentlemen.”

Faith snatched the remaining stakes before anyone else could get to them, distributing them about her body in much the same way that Buffy had. Cordellia quietly picked up one of the crossbows, taking time to dip some arrows into the holy water before putting them into the quiver around her waist. Doyle nodded with approval, sidling up to her and whispering, “My kind of woman, you are.”

Her dismissive shrug did nothing to dim his smile, and he hummed to himself as he looked over the selection of weapons. He settled on another sword, testing it first to be sure that he was capable of picking it up and swinging it. Faith’s derisive snort brought the faintest trace of emerging spines to his face before he shook them off and said quietly, “I’m the seer, not the muscle. That’s for you and the violence-prone blonds. I do only what’s necessary to stay alive.”

Buffy tapped her sword impatiently against her leg while Willow frowned over the map of Sunnydale. The small light that should have led them to Spike darted here and there, never remaining in one spot long enough to indicate a location. She looked up at Giles, a question in her eyes until he pointed out that the light was remaining conspicuously away from the area of high school.

“The Hellmouth. Of course. Why didn’t we think of that?” He hadn’t even finished speaking before Buffy whirled and ran out the door. Faith exchanged looks with Xander and Doyle, then snatched Spike’s keys from the floor and tossed them to the demon. “Let’s go sticker-face. No sense lettin’ B have all the fun.”

There was a slight hesitation on Wesley’s part as he watched the young slayer, a half-demon seer and a high school boy set out after the long-gone senior slayer. Giles picked up his own keys, handed Wesley the other crossbow, and nodded towards the door.

“I believe this is our chance to be more than figureheads,” he said as he shepherded the two girls and the young watcher out to his car. “If the Mayor is on the Hellmouth, it’s entirely possible that he is planning to move sooner than we expected.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike awoke to a sharp pain in his head and the knowledge that he was suspended from a ceiling and lashed rather painfully to a large wheel. A glance around the room told him nothing about where he was, other than that it appeared to be a low level basement. The floor was dirt, and the vibrations in the room were pure evil. From the corners of his eyes, he could see Trick engaged in intense conversation with a well-preserved, but elderly man whom he was clearly trying to appease.

“He was with her. He went willingly into her watcher’s house, and came out under his own power. Whoever he is, he’s obviously not to be trusted.”

“Well,” the mayor said mildly, his shrewd eyes not missing the fact that the vampire was now conscious, “let’s just find out exactly how much he is not to be trusted, shall we?”

He strolled over to the suspended vampire and looked him over carefully. Behind him, Spike could see the other vampire glaring his fury over having been almost gulled into introducing the new master vampire in town as a possible ally in the Mayor’s quest to Ascend. Even as he congratulated himself on his foresight in planting a small group of their much-reduced army of minions at the Slayer’s home and in the watcher’s apartment complex, his eyes were promising a slow, painful death.

The Mayor walked slowly around the growling vampire, his tone almost admiring as he commented, “I’m not sure if you are extremely brave or extremely stupid. Which quality would have inspired you to seek to make yourself at home in my city?”

“Sod off, old man. I live wherever I want.”

“Oh my. I do so dislike disrespectful and crude behavior. Mr Trick? I thought you told me this…creature was a master vampire? Surely not, with an attitude like that. Shouldn’t he have learned some wisdom and manners by now?”

“I’ll teach him manners, sir. Have no fear about that.” The dark vampire moved closer to Spike, baring his teeth in what was meant to be a frightening smile.

Spike ignored the posturing underling, focusing his attention on the man in front of him.

“So, you’re the big bad wannabe, huh?” He looked the man up and down as contemptuously as he could from his awkward position.

Unperturbed, the Mayor responded with, “And you, my dangling friend, are William the Bloody. Slayer of slayers. And yet, here I am, plagued by two of the annoying little girls. One of which you have already had at your mercy, and one of which we had all assumed killed you some time ago. Would you care to explain your miraculous escape from our fair city after Miss Summers put you into a wheelchair and killed your sire and grandsire?”

“I lead a charmed life,” Spike said insolently. “An’ if that stupid bint I picked up last night hadn’t been so greedy, Slayer Jr. would be dead by now.”

“And yet, Mr Trick’s trusted associates assure us that not only did you drive the Slayer from her home to her watcher’s, you remained inside with two slayers, two watchers, an apprentice witch and sundry other interfering humans. Are we to assume that your charmed life is responsible for your ability to walk out of there unharmed?”

The mayor turned away, leaving space for Trick to move closer to Spike and show him the squirt bottle that he was holding so carefully. He allowed a drop to fall onto his own finger, showing his teeth again as Spike’s eyes widened at the sight of the blister immediately raised.

“Or, shall I assume the worst? That, for whatever reason, you are working with the Slayer and had intended to use your reputation to insinuate yourself into my organization?”

Spike’s scoffing, “Wouldn’t have your organization on a bet,” did nothing to deny the obvious truth in the man’s shrewd assessment of Spike’s real purpose in bringing himself to their attention. He managed to keep his face cold and contemptuous as the wheel was tilted until he was hanging in an upside down position. He braced himself mentally for the anticipated pain as Trick moved even closer and held the bottle of holy water over Spike’s exposed crotch. With the way he was tied, legs spread, there was no way to protect himself from the liquid being slowly dribbled onto the worn denim of his jeans. He hissed as smoke began to rise from the inside of his thighs and he felt the liquid working it’s way down towards his rapidly-shrinking balls. He was struggling so vigorously against the ropes holding him in place, that he didn’t at first notice that there had been no more holy water to follow the first frightening trickle.

Sounds of fighting from the other side of a heavy door brought his attention back to events not directly concerned with his important body parts, and he realized that Trick’s attention was no longer on him, but was focused on the noises coming from outside the room. Minions that had been lazing around the area were suddenly alert and moving in the direction of the disturbance. The sudden silence outside was immediately followed by the crash of a door being kicked off its hinges, and framed in the entrance was a Buffy that he had never seen. Standing there with her sword in hand and her hair glowing in the reflected light of the torches, she looked liked an avenging angel.

“You hurt my mate.” Her voice was deadly quiet, her body as taut as a bowstring.

If it were possible for an African-American vampire to blanch, Trick would have done so. Leaving the job of fighting the Slayer’s back-up warriors to the minions now leaping to the attack, he turned and ran towards a door on the far side of the big room. Buffy’s thrown sword, while not dusting him, pinned him to the floor where he fell and she walked slowly to where he was writhing on the bare dirt; absently staking any minions foolish enough to impede her purposeful walk.

For some reason, in his haste to leave, Trick had clung to the holy water with which he’d been planning to torture Spike. Buffy’s eyes went from the plastic bottle in Trick’s hand, to the still-smoking fabric of Spike’s jeans and her eyes narrowed in sudden understanding. With a creditable snarl, she snatched the plastic bottle from his clenched hand and held it up. Placing a foot on the vampire’s neck to hold him down, Buffy yanked the sword from his back and proceeded to squirt the contents of the bottle into the wound. She watched dispassionately as the old vampire writhed and screamed, smoke and steam rising from the bleeding gash in his back.

The rest of the Scoobies had, by this time, successfully fought their way into the large room, the Mayor had retreated to a dais in the center of the area and surrounded himself with what few minions remained. Between Faith’s stakes and the crossbows, their numbers were rapidly dwindling and it was clear that the Mayor of Sunnydale was soon going to be alone on the stage.

Spike’s roar of rage as the man began to chant, caught Xander’s attention and he somewhat reluctantly used his sword to slice through the ropes preventing the vampire from joining the action. With his feet released, Spike was already twisting his body and barely waited for his arms to be freed before he was across the room and leaping onto the stage. Before their eyes, the ordinary –looking man in front of them began to swell and grow, his eyes changing to yellow slits.

Without pausing, Spike threw himself upon the still-changing man and buried his fangs in the elongating, but still-human neck in front of him. His snarls as he ripped out the man’s throat, not bothering to swallow the foul blood spurting from the severed artery, were chilling to hear. The humans in the room withdrew to the doorway, Faith’s stakes taking care of any minions left trying to escape. They watched in quiet horror as Buffy calmly waited for the holy water to eat its way to the unbeating heart of the screaming vampire at her feet, and Spike shook the now-limp body of the mayor like terrier shaking a rat.

When Trick finally stopped screaming and burst into a cloud of dust, Spike pulled his teeth from the very dead-appearing body at his feet and looked up to meet Buffy’s eyes.

“Well done, love,” he said quietly. “Do you want to do the honors here?” He gestured at the body at his feet and she nodded with understanding.

“No, here, you do it,” she responded, tossing him the sword hilt-first.

He plucked the sword from the air and in one motion, cut off the Mayor’s head. He smiled in grim satisfaction as the body spasmed, and then began to dissolve.

“Knew that foul-tasting bugger wasn’t human,” he growled, spitting into the rapidly growing puddle. Kicking the head across the room to roll into a corner, he jumped down from the stage and walked up to Buffy.

“Thank you, Slayer,” he said softly. “Thought for a bit there that I was gonna be missin’ some important parts.”

“Did he hurt you?” she asked anxiously, fighting the urge to run her hands over the endangered area.

“Nothing that can’t be kissed better when we’ve got a bit more time and privacy,” he said, curling his tongue behind his teeth. “Assuming I can find someone willin’ to do it, of course.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” she whispered, brushing her lips across his mouth. “Do you?”

“Bloody well hope not,” he whispered back as he put his arms around her waist and pulled her against his body.

Even as their bantering words tried to downplay how close she had come to losing him, Buffy’s arms that were squeezing his ribs to the point of pain. He held her for several long minutes, whispering soothing nonsense in her ear until the sound of throats being cleared brought them both back to reality.

“If you two lovebirds are through checking each other for damage…” Doyle’s lilting drawl brought a glare from Spike, but he straightened up and allowed Buffy to step back. Now that the threats to her mate had been eliminated, she slid back into her role as perky high-schooler.

“So,” she said with a big smile, “as apocalypses go, that one didn’t last long. Who’s up for pizza?”
 
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