Chapter 8: Rumblings of Things to Come

Relaxing after her second day of work, Buffy sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, leafing through a magazine. The house seemed emptier without Spike around. After two days of convalescence, she had been unable to convince him to stay in bed and rest any longer. He’d started bouncing around the house like a pogo stick – wincing in pain while he did it, naturally, but he wouldn’t admit that – and had gone back to his crypt last night. Buffy had to admit it was better that way. A little distance between her and Spike was probably a good thing.

Buffy opened a can of diet soda and flipped to a page that exclaimed, “Make him beg for more in the bedroom!” She scanned the tips, idly bending the tab on the soda can back and forth. When she got to tip number three, her thoughts wandered to Spike, and the tab snapped off in her hand.

Yes, a little distance was definitely a good thing.

She checked out the “Eight pairs of shoes you cannot live without!” and tried to hold in her drool over the expensive new styles. She was mentally weighing the pros and cons of taking out a second mortgage for a pair of Jimmy Choo’s when Dawn came in.

“I’m hungry. Do we have any food?”

Buffy took a sip of her soda and shook her head. “I think we ate it all.”

“Buffy!” Dawn whined.

With a sigh, Buffy got up and began searching through the cabinets. “There’s some fruit in the fridge.”

Dawn scanned the contents of the refrigerator and pulled out a Tupperware container of cantaloupe chunks. “Who put that in there?” They rarely had such exotic things as fruits and vegetables, and Buffy would never, ever go so far as to chop it into bite-size pieces.

“Giles, probably.”

Dawn opened up the container and plucked out a cantaloupe piece with her fingers, popping it in her mouth. “Huh. So, this is what healthy tastes like.”

“Aha!” Buffy reached into the cabinet and then whirled around, holding up two packets of Easy Mac for Dawn to see.

“Wow, fruit and powdered cheese?”

“Tonight, we feast!”

Dawn rolled her eyes as Buffy got out two microwavable bowls and began preparing the Easy Mac. “You know, Buffy, there’s this thing called shopping, where you go to the supermarket and you buy food and then we don’t starve.”

Buffy grabbed a piece of cantaloupe from the container. “Well, there’s this thing called money, see, where they’re really kind of particular about you not being allowed to buy things unless you have it.”

“You have a job.”

“I didn’t graduate college, Dawn. I have a low-paying job.”

“You took care of yourself just fine that summer you ran away to L.A.”

“That was different. I didn’t have a little sister to take care of then. Or a mortgage. Or the billion other expenses that go along with being a grown-up.”

She crossed her arms and leaned one hip against the counter, watching the bowls spin in slow circles in the microwave. Dawn in turn watched Buffy, eating cantaloupe and wondering whether there was something more that Buffy wasn’t telling her.

The microwave dinged, and Buffy handed Dawn one of the bowls and a cheese packet, mixing the other one for herself.

Dawn stared at the packet for a moment. “Buffy… is everything okay?”

“You know, you can say what you want about real cheese, but I’m a fan of the orange powdered stuff,” said Buffy, putting a forkful in her mouth and turning back to her magazine.

“Buffy…”

“Look, Dawnie, don’t worry about it right now, okay?” Buffy said. “I’m handling it. Handling it is my middle name.”

“Your middle name is Anne.”

“Close enough.” Buffy put down her fork and looked at Dawn. “When it’s time for you to worry, I promise I’ll let you know. Now, eat your processed cheese food.”

*****

The bartender plunked down another Guinness, sloshing beer over the sides of the glass. Spike nodded his thanks and downed a third of the beer in one swallow. He was deciding whether to order a plate of wings – the cuisine at Willy’s wasn’t nearly as good as the Bronze, since most of their clientele didn’t eat people food, but he was feeling peckish – when a hand clapped down on his shoulder.

“Spike! Good to see ya, man,” Clem greeted him, sliding onto the barstool next to him. “Hey, I ran into your friend the other day.”

Spike squinted at him. “My... friend?”

“The Slayer. Nice girl. Cute, too.”

Spike snorted. As if he didn’t know that.

“She came around looking for you,” Clem went on.

“She did?” Spike perked up a bit. The Slayer was looking for him, eh?

“Yeah. Hey, how'd that kidnapping thing work out for you?”

Oh, right. That’s why. He tried to keep his disappointment off his face. He glanced down at himself and made a noncommittal gesture. “I'm here, aren't I?”

“Yeah, and glad to see it. Meant what I said to the Slayer, you know. You’re a real friend, Spike.”

The vampire found himself unusually touched by this display of camaraderie. His enemies far outnumbered his friends these days – why else would he have taken up with the Slayer and her lot in the first place? It was nice to have some goodwill, even if it was only one abundantly skinned demon.

“She seein’ anybody?”

Spike snapped his attention back to the conversation. “Who?”

“The Slayer,” Clem replied with a knowing wink. Spike responded with a growl.

“Hey, just sayin’, man. She’s a catch. I’d go for her, if I was into the human thing. You should ask her out or something.”

“Like I haven’t thought of that,” Spike mumbled, chugging the rest of his beer.

*****

“I give up,” said Xander, pushing away the papers they’d salvaged from Giles’ mission. “I don’t understand this. I don’t even know what language this is.”

Giles leaned over his shoulder. “English.”

Xander took another look at the papers. “Oh. Well, obviously it’s some kind of British English and not American English because these words are…” He trailed off when he saw Giles’ expression. “Or… maybe it’s the bad handwriting?” he finished sheepishly.

“Xander, if you’re finding that too difficult, you’re more than welcome to take a look at the book Willow is translating.”

“That’s the one in old French, right? Yeah, I flunked new French. Hey, anybody want doughnuts? I could be doughnut guy.”

Buffy plunked a knife and several pieces of wood in front of him. “Whittle.”

“Ah, wood!” Xander replied. “Something I’m familiar with… because I work in construction, not because I…”

“Xander?” Buffy said, a perturbed look on her face.

“Shuttin’ up now.”

Buffy sat at the table next to Xander, sharpening her battle-axe with a whetstone. When that was done, she began polishing the blade. “Ugh, vampire dust gets on everything,” she said, digging her fingernail into the crevices.

She looked up when the shop door opened. Spike hesitated in the doorway, his gaze focused on Buffy. Her expression softened to a smile when she saw him. “Hi,” she said.

Somehow, she managed to look adorable with a battle-axe in her hands. And she sent adorable little lightning bolts directly to his groin. He’d thought it was hard to be around her before… now she was going to drive him out of his bloody mind with longing. The feel of her body on his, the taste of her blood…

The air fairly crackled between them. Spike swallowed and ducked his head nervously. “Hi.”

Xander glared at him, whittling knife clenched in one hand and wooden stake in the other.

Spike arched an eyebrow. “If you’re not gonna use it, I suggest you put it down.”

With one last irritated look, Xander went back to whittling. “Oversized mosquito,” he muttered.

“Spike,” said Giles, intervening before the vampire could retaliate. “You’re looking well.”

“Got all my bits and pieces working again, right as rain. Thought I’d stop by, see if you needed help on that demon thing.”

Giles was unable to conceal his surprise. “That’s… very kind of you.” He scanned the materials on the research table. “Ah, how is your ancient Greek?”

Spike sucked in a breath. “Not as good as my Latin, but it’s passable.”

“You know Greek and Latin?” Buffy was staring at him in astonishment. “Dork.”

“Went to Oxford, didn’t I? Seems a million years ago, now.”

“I didn’t know that.” Buffy studied him for a moment longer, as if trying to square this new detail with what she knew of Spike, and then she turned to Giles with a devilish grin. “Hey, maybe you guys were there at the same time.”

“Very funny,” Giles said, in a tone of voice that meant it wasn’t. He handed a piece of paper to Spike. “Perhaps you could take a look at this. I’m almost certain it’s a spell of some sort, but I haven’t had the chance to translate it.”

“Sure.” Spike gave the paper a once-over, but his attention was almost immediately drawn to the shop window. Standing to one side so as not to be seen, he peered out through the blinds, trying to discern movement in the darkness.

“What is it, Spike?” asked Buffy.

“I heard something outside. Thought maybe someone was followin’ me on the way over, too.”

She gave him an amused look. “Paranoid much?”

“Hey, recently kidnapped and tortured here.”

Xander snorted. “Yeah, by your girlfriend.”

Spike ignored him and continued talking to Buffy. “I think I deserve a little slack, you know? Besides, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean there’s not an invisible demon about to eat your face.”

“Yeah...” Buffy said skeptically.

Spike shook his head and sighed. “You know why I didn't take Clem's warning seriously? Because I get threats like that about once a week. Every demon in this town wants to kill me, almost as much as they wanna kill you. I don't pay it too much mind, since I can usually take anything that doesn't attack me in groups of twenty. Still,” he looked out the window one last time, “doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

Buffy’s mouth parted in shock. “Spike, I – I had no idea.” She pushed her chair back, getting up to meet him halfway to the table.

He bent his head down to her level and said softly, “Not for you to worry about, pet.”

“If things are that bad, you should have protection.” She put a hand on his arm, her fingers curling gently around his bicep, and he took a moment to savor her touch before shaking it off and drawing himself up to his full manly height.

“I don’t need protection. I can take care of myself.” To be honest, he actually enjoyed getting in a good scuffle every once in a while. Not only was it fun – who didn’t enjoy a decent spot of violence now and again? – but every time he bested one of his attackers, it was a not-so-subtle reminder to the rest of the demon population that he was still a force to be reckoned with. Let any demon who said he’d gone soft challenge him. He’d show them soft.

His mouth twitched into a slight grin. “And once in a while, you can do one of your daring rescue routines.” He gave her a playful shove. “Keeps you in shape. Now, let’s see this Greek spell.”

*****

Outside the Magic Box, a figure hid, his dark hooded robe concealing his inhuman features and allowing him to fade into the shadows. The shop’s lights illuminated the people within, gathered around the research table. He watched them, unseen, as they went about their business, oblivious that their movements were being observed. The vampire seemed to sense something, and threw an occasional glance toward the window, but he didn’t look out again after the first time.

The robed demon pulled out the cell phone his master had given him. The mage had been surprised that his kind knew how to use them – as though all demons were dumb, uncivilized beasts. Some of them knew how to do more than bash and crash. That was why the human had hired his team.

“I’m at the magic shop, sir,” he said, when his boss answered the phone. “No sign of the witches. Nor the other girl, the shopkeeper, or the Slayer’s sister. But the others are here.” He hesitated for a moment. “I think the vampire is going to be a problem. He’s already suspicious. I think he may have picked up that someone was following him.”

The voice on the other end of the phone swore. “I told you not to get caught. Do I need to give you a demonstration of what I will do to you if you get caught?”

“I think, sir, if I get caught, the Slayer will kill me before you ever get the chance.”

He heard an abrupt banging noise, as though his master had slammed the phone against something. “The Slayer will be cautious, too,” he went on, returning to business to avoid angering the warlock further. “It’s in her nature.”

“Dammit. I had hoped we’d gotten a lucky break with that vampire gang, getting that one out of the way.”

“The Slayer saved him, sir.”

“I know that!” the mage snapped. “Do you have anything else to report?” he asked tersely.

“No, sir.”

The warlock hung up the phone without another word to his demon minion. In his mansion on Crawford Street, not far from where Angel had once taken up residence, the man who had introduced himself as David surveyed the materials he would need for the next ritual – materials he had bought from the Magic Box, right under the noses of the Slayer’s friends. He turned to the demon at his side, another robed creature, of the same breed as the Magic Box spy – their leader, in fact.

“It’s almost time for the purification ritual,” David reminded the demon. “I’ll need the Slayer distracted so she doesn’t interfere with my plans. Take care of her, will you?”

“Yes, sir.” The hood bobbed up and down as the demon nodded. “I can have her disposed of…”

“No!” The mage’s eyes blazed with fury. “I don’t want her dead yet,” he gritted out, cursing the stupidity of the demon race. How exactly was he supposed to complete his rise to power if the Slayer was already dead? “Just distract her for a while, until the next ritual is complete.”

“Of course, sir. That can be arranged.”

“You’ll summon a demon?” The minion nodded. “Good. But don’t send it right at her like last time. If she kills it in five minutes, it won’t be much of a distraction. Make her hunt it down. Find me a good one. Oh – and the sooner you can separate her from that vampire, the happier I’ll be.”

*****

Spike chewed on the end of a pencil, staring at the page in front of him. He thumbed through Giles’ Greek-to-English dictionary to double-check a few words, and then settled back in his chair. “Think I’ve got it, Rupes.”

“Don’t call me that,” said Giles. “What is it?”

“Summoning spell. Look at this – ‘From out of darkness I call thee,’ ‘bind thee to my will,’ ‘servant to master.’ Pretty straightforward, don’t you think?”

“Bind thee to my will…” Giles repeated. He scurried away and returned with the talisman used to summon the dragon. “Look at this. The inscription is in a demon tongue but as far as I can make out, it’s the same words. ‘Bind thee to my will.’”

“So, our guy Bob was onto something,” Buffy said. “Either he did it, or he knew who did.”

“Or he was trying to retrace the steps – magically speaking – of whoever did it,” Giles replied. “It’s imperative that we sort through this information as quickly as possible. Robert may have the key to stopping this madman.”