Power

Spike paced impatiently. No sign of the Slayer for over twenty four hours. That was not normal. He’d been around for a few years, learned some patterns. Slayers were such awful creatures of habit that it was almost sad. It served well for him, but it did make things boring. This Slayer, while different from the other two, had maintained the monotony…until now. Who was he fooling? This Slayer was completely different from the other two. She moved differently, fought differently, everything she did was different. He shouldn’t be surprised that she’d take a random hiatus, but that wouldn’t keep him from being upset about it.

“She dances around you. Laughing. Naughty, dirty Slayer. Upsetting my William so,” Dru singsonged.

Spike looked over at Dru. For a crazy as the bird was, she was right. The Slayer was laughing at him right now. A good poke at the git who couldn’t kill her. That’s the crux of it, he couldn’t kill her. She was right…he couldn’t because he was curious. She had a hold on him, she held knowledge, and that knowledge was power. He wouldn’t kill her until he knew exactly what she knew, and why.

“The stars paint a picture, while the moon serenades me. You will bag this Slayer, and then we can be happy once more. Ms. Edith will have cakes,” Dru continued.

“Sure luv, whatever you say.” The sun was down, and he couldn’t bear to stay cooped up inside.

“Let’s have us a night out,” Spike said. He took Dru’s hand and led her into the night.

The pair walked the nearly deserted streets of Sunnydale in silence. Both were predators on a mission for food. The life-giving, red sustenance that ran through the veins of unsuspecting citizens. Blood. They could both smell it, its scent lingering from the day’s bustle of people, the more potent scent of the blood rushing through the bodies of the people foolish enough to venture out after dark, just waiting to be tasted. It was perfect, just before them stood a pair, lovers from the looks of things. Dru, having not been able to hunt for a few days, vamped immediately and dashed toward the strangers. Captivated by her thirst, Spike watched from a distance for a moment while his lover feasted.

“Look what I’ve brought for you, my William,” Dru said. She handed him the limp body of the woman, “I’ve caught you a sweet little morsel.”

“That you have, pet,” Spike said as he sunk his fangs into the woman’s exposed neck. The liquid was blissful, probably more so because his beautiful, Dark Princess had taken such pleasure in bringing it to him.

Suddenly, Dru stiffened, her eyes wide. “She walks alone tonight. The stars see her dance in the moonlight. The end is near, the end of something meant to last for years. The air smells the difference, it’s always going to be different now, Ms. Edith. The past, the future, the veil between them is torn this night.”

Spike stared, gape jawed at Drusilla. Angelus had wanted Drusilla because of her seer abilities, and it had been a trait that Spike had learned to appreciate. This was one of those occasions. He knew that Dru spoke of the Slayer, at least part of what she had said concerned the Slayer, and the rest was a bunch of mystic nonsense to him.

“Let’s get you home, pet,” Spike said, “I’ve got business to take care of.”
“You really must stop doing this, Buffy,” Giles said.

“But Giles, I had to. You don’t understand what it’s like to be inside the mind of a vampire. This one is so, messed up. Angel knows Spike, has for a long time…a very long time. Either way, I went and now I’m back, what’s the big?” Buffy asked.

“The big, Buffy, is the manner in which you took your little trip. Your mother was frantic, and it left me in quite a spot,” Giles said.

“And I’m sorry, but there’s not anything I can do about it now. Angel’s information was helpful. Look, it isn’t just on a whim that bleach boy is here. He came looking for me. There have been a few Slayers between me and the 1970’s, so why did Spike choose to come after me? That’s what I need to find out, Giles. This is important,” Buffy said.

“It does seem strange that he should wait so many years before seeking out another Slayer. But it isn’t outside his character. Before the 1970’s Slayer, it was the Boxer Rebellion, quite a few years difference there. I see your point, I’ll see if I can find any books that might help us,” Giles said.

“You get on the books, and I’ll do some field work. See if I can’t beat some answers out of a certain blond I know,” Buffy said.

“Are you sure that is wise?” Giles inquired.

Buffy paused at the door to the library, “No, but I’m running out of options here.”

“Before you go, what happened to the Gem?” Giles asked.

“It’s smashed, destroyed, ruined, shattered, I can go on,” Buffy answered.

“That’s quite enough, thank you. Be careful. I know I can’t stop you,” Giles said.

Buffy smiled at her Watcher before turning and exiting the school library. The sun was down, and she was sure there were nasties to clean up. Her friends had done some light patrolling, but she knew they weren’t up to dealing with the numerous volumes that seemed to follow ubervamps. When the Master had shown up, fledglings were numerous, then once the Master was gone, number assumed their steady flow. Same with Spike. Never disappointed on a Hellmouth, vampires always there to assist.

From the shadows, a pair of crystal blue eyes watched in fascination as the Slayer executed the newly risen vampires. Her moves were elegant and graceful. Her eyes were full of fury, caught up in the fight. Every movement of her body was planned and well executed. A true, well bred killer. She’d never say that, though. She was a Slayer, not a killer. Tosh, she was a killer, he knew it and so did she. Only difference, he had no problem with admitting it.

“Welcome back,” a silk, smooth voice greeted her.

“I’d’ve figured you’d be all bad moody with me being back,” Buffy replied.

“It’s harder to kill you if you’re gone, pet. You should know this, being in the same profession and all,” Spike drawled.

“So not of the same. You Killer, me Slayer, major difference,” Buffy said.

Spike couldn’t resist the urge to chuckle. She was becoming more predictable by the moment. Every time he was around her, she molded more into the predictable Slayer. “You kill things, I kill things. Sounds the same to me.”

“I kill bad things, like you. You kill innocent things – ”

“Like you?” Spike smirked.

“Like helpless humans,” Buffy said. She could feel her cheeks blush.

“What does that make you then? You can’t be a helpless human, and you’re not innocent,” Spike rolled the last word out of his mouth with delight. It was true; this little Slayer wasn’t as innocent and righteous as she’d like everyone to believe.

He watched as her confidence faltered for a brief moment, only to be replaced by the determination that he was so accustomed to seeing in her eyes. “That makes me the Slayer.”

Spike nodded silently. What could he say to that? She was, though and through, Slayer. Everything about her oozed power. She wore it like a skin. Every move she made, the look in her eyes, the way she spoke…power. A power he, and no other demon, could imagine. He believed that part of the power was because she was a woman, women always held power. The gentle sway of their hips, the cherry red of their lips, the curve of their breasts.

“What do we do now, Spike?” Buffy said pulling Spike from his musings.

“What’s that?”

“What…do…we…do…now?”

“No need to coddle. I don’t know, pet. I’m always up for a good dance; we have to perfect ours,” Spike said.

“Dance? You think what we do is a dance?”

“Dancing’s all we’ve ever done, pet,” Spike retorted.

Indignation flared in her eyes, the look was mesmerizing. “God, she’s hot when she’ll all brassed! Where the HELL did that come from? Can’t be having thoughts like that about the bloody Slayer.” ‘She dances around you’, Dru’s comment floated around his subconscious.

“What’s left for us to do then, Spike?”

“Change the tune. ‘S the only thing we can do,” Spike answered simply.

Buffy watched him silently. The thoughts that were undoubtedly floating around in his head were skating across his eyes. Whatever he was thinking, Buffy knew it couldn’t be good. This was Spike.

“A truce,” Spike said.

“A what?” Buffy asked.

“Y’know a truce. You don’t stake me and I won’t eat you,” Spike offered.

“Why would I agree to that?”

“Don’t be thick, Slayer. We need each other. We both have the same problem, and if one of us is dead then the problem is still not fixed,” Spike said.

Buffy smiled, “I don’t have a problem, you do. I have the knowledge, that gives me the power, not you. I don’t need you for any of this. I’m sure the gang can figure out why I was given the Spike Biography. I can stake you where you stand.”

“So do it then.”

Buffy blinked at the vampire blankly. “He just asked me to stake him. Vamps aren’t supposed to do that.”

“Bloody do it, already!” Spike took a step forward pressing his chest against the stake clutched in her tiny hand.

“Are all vamps this suicidal? Most of them at least put up a fight, you know, the dance you love so much?” Buffy said. Good, use sarcasm to hide the other emotions flooding your system.

Spike wasn’t fooled. He shook his head, amused by the petite blonde. “Knew you wouldn’t have the stones for it. Prolly never will.”

Buffy recognized that statement, “What did you say?”

“Said you didn’t have the stones for it,” Spike repeated with his usual cocky air. For effect, he pointed his finger at her.

“Oh, I got the stones! I've got a whole bunch of,” Buffy paused, something was very familiar, “... stones!”

Spike snorted.

Buffy stared at his hand; the ring on his finger was oddly familiar. A bit too familiar. They crashed down on her then, a sea of memories.

"You've got Slayer problems. That's a bad piece of luck. Do you know what I find works real good with Slayers? Killing them."

"Do we really need weapons for this?"

"I just like them. They make me feel all manly."

"Spike, my boy, you really don't get it! Do you? You tried to kill her, but you couldn't. Look at you. You're a wreck! She's stronger than any Slayer you've ever faced. Force won't get it done. You gotta work from the inside. To kill this girl... you have to love her."

“Okay. You do remember that you're a vampire, right?”

"We like to talk big. Vampires do. 'I'm going to destroy the world.' That's just tough guy talk. Strutting around with your friends over a pint of blood. The truth is, I like this world. You've got... dog racing, Manchester United. And you've got people. Billions of people walking around like Happy Meals with legs. It's all right here. But then someone comes along with a vision. With a real... passion for destruction. Angel could pull it off. Goodbye, Picadilly. Farewell, Leicester Bloody Square. You know what I'm saying?"

“Okay, fine. You're not down with Angel. Why would you ever come to me?”

"The whole earth may be sucked into Hell, and you want my help 'cause your girlfriend's a big ho? Well, let me take this opportunity to not care."

"I can't fight them both alone, and neither can you!"

“I hate you!”

“And I’m all you’ve got.”

“Oh, do it again. It tickles. You know, in a good way.”

“The Gem”

“Oh yeah, the Gem of Amara. Official sponsor of my killing you.”

“What part of 'help me!' do you not understand?”

“The part where I help you.”

“It's just so sudden, I don't know what to say.”

“Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on earth.”

“Oh, Spike, of course it's yes!”

“That’s it!” Buffy exclaimed, pulling herself from the sea of memories.

Before he could react, the Slayer had pulled the ring from his finger.

“Oy!”

“Shut up, Spike. You’ll get it back,” Buffy snapped. She absently stroked the ring. It was all so familiar and yet so distant. Those memories she’d had, some of them she remembered, others couldn’t have happened. There were so many, so fast that it was hard for her to decide which ones went together, and which ones were real.

“You gave this to me once. You know? We were under a spell,” Buffy said.

Spike stared gape jawed at the Slayer, “I what?”

“You gave me the ring. It was a spell.”

“What type of spell?”

Buffy closed her eyes and remembered. He had felt so good under her fingers. The tight muscles of his chest rippling under her warm touch. The feeling of protectiveness his embrace held for her, like she was the only one. The kiss. Oh, that was amazing. His lips, so cold, yet not…summoning a fire in her that she didn’t know she possessed. The way he tasted, musty man taste. The smell of leather and cigarettes lingered on him, making her mouth water. The fire in his eyes, the passion that flared from the depths of his heart. Everything about that memory called to her.

“The type that ends with me saying, “Spike lips! Lips of Spike” in a disgusted way,” Buffy said simply.

Spike raised an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

Buffy willed herself not to blush under his gaze, but it was a lost cause. The instant his gaze went from amused to heated, her cheeks had flushed violently. “I’m beginning to think that what I know about you isn’t just things about your past.”

“I’m beginning to think that too, pet. Either that or you’re completely off your rocker,” Spike said softly. His mind was still buzzing. If the Slayer was right about her thoughts, then he was very…confused. There really wasn’t a word to describe his feelings, he was partially turned on, partially disgusted, and mostly just amused.

“I have the power,” Buffy said.

“You’ve always had the power, Slayer.”

“But now I can change things.”

“Dangerous ground.”

“Scared, Spikey?”

Spike didn’t have an answer. Sure he was a bit unnerved that the Slayer had the ability to alter the future, but in the end, what’s the worst thing that could happen?