Chapter 05

‘the same old fears and the same old crimes
we haven't changed since ancient times’
- “iron hand” by dire straits


Night had fallen again. Somehow the days seemed a lot shorter lately.

The group of senior Slayers had gathered in the conference room again. This time, it was Buffy who sat at the head of the table. Spike stood in his corner.

“Hi everyone. As Willow told you last night, we got news that the Secte Noir is trying to wreak some havoc. Although we know who they are, we hardly know anything about them. Tonight, we’re going to check out their headquarters, see what resources they have. I know it sounds boring but we need to know what we’re going up against.”

There was quiet murmur in the room, some approving nods and some rolled eyes.

“We’ll go there in teams of two. Each team will get a target. You will not interfere, just watch and…investigate. I don’t want them to know that we’re after them. They might already know that but I don’t want anyone to get hurt. If these guys are really as strong as we believe we’ll need all available manpower we can find.” At that last sentence, Buffy glanced up at Spike who was staring blankly into space. “You know who your partners are. We meet in the parking garage in thirty minutes.”

The girls rose and left the room, talking about their current mission. Some of them clearly psyched about getting to snoop around the evil stronghold.

Buffy was the last one remaining in the room, and to her surprise, so was Spike.

“Do I need to get a partner or is that a girls-only thing?” He asked, cocking his head to one side. It was the first time he actually looked at her. They hadn’t even seen each other all day.

“You’re coming along?” The Slayer couldn’t deny that she hadn’t expected that from him.

“I’m not here to sit in my room, playing Soduko, and missing out on all the fun.” He pushed himself off the wall, taking a few steps towards her. He had his hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of his pants, looking very uneasy.

Buffy shifted a little uncomfortably from one leg to the other. “You can come with me if you want.” Why was this so hard? Why were they acting like some shy high school kids?

“Sure.” He shrugged as if he didn’t really care. “Thirty minutes?”

The Slayer blinked, slightly taken aback by his nonchalance. “Yeah.”

Spike nodded. “All right. See you then.” With that, he turned on his heel and left the room.

Buffy stared after him in surprise. What the hell was going on with him? The Spike she’d known back in the days would have been on this mission like a rat on rice. And now he was…different. He hardly ever looked at her, was as monosyllabilic as vampirely possible, and didn’t seem to care much about being around her. Something was wrong. And she needed to figure out what it was.


*

Spike was leaning against the wall by the door to the stairwell when Buffy came down into the parking garage. She had changed into what looked like black fatigues, and her hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

All the other Slayers were gathered around two black minivans, some of them eyeing him skeptically. He wondeed whether they knew who he was. They probably did. They were Slayers after all, and he had killed two of their kind in his days.

“All right, girls. Let’s ride. But remember, don’t interfere. It’s not doing anyone any good if you get yourselves in trouble.”

Buffy handed every other girl a piece of paper with their target. Then, they separated, hopping into the vans. The Slayer turned towards Spike.

“Thought you were coming along.”

“I am. But I’m not going to ride in a bus full of girls. We’re going to take my bike. Come on,” he nodded towards his motorbike a few parking spots away.

“I’m not going to ride with you on that thing! I might have died twice but I’m not suicidal. I know how you drive.”

Spike squinted over his shoulder for he had already turned towards his bike. “A couple of years back, you didn’t complain all that much.” There was an odd tone in his voice, something that made that sentence into more than a simple statement.

“A couple of years back I thought I knew you,” Buffy shot back, her voice tight and clipped. She glared at him with enough anger to make him take another step towards the bike. Then he just shrugged a shoulder.

“Suit yourself.”

It wasn’t until he had already started the engine, that Spike felt Buffy’s arms slip around his waist.

“Where to?” He glanced over his shoulder, trying to figure out the look on her face. She gave him the address, her tone businesslike and almost cold. It was a sharp contrast to her warm body pressed up against his.

Now this was going to be fun.


*

Spike pulled his motorbike to the curb a block away from huge industrial complex a little off downtown. It had taken them less than ten minutes and three red lights to get there, and now that he stopped, it took Buffy a little longer than necessary to let go of him.

“So what are we going to do? Prowl up and down the sidewalk until someone in a black hat shows up?” Spike said, stashing the keys into his pant pocket.

The vampire wore the same clothes Buffy had seen on him yesterday, with the heavy gun strapped to his left thigh. This time, he wore his pseudo-Kevlar vest underneath the long-sleeved shirt, a black leather jacket above it to conceal another weapon of some sort. If she had to figure out what this was all about, she would have to start with the new toys.

“No. We know who these guys are. But they are… like Al Capone. You can’t link anything to them until you catch them in the act.”

“You’re not going to get to them through tax evasion, are you?”

Buffy glowered at him, then dismissed the comment with a shrug. “We’re going to sneak and peak, secret mission style.”

For a brief moment, a memory flashed through her mind. The memory of a night shortly before the Hellmouth had collapsed. She and Spike, standing in her kitchen, him telling her that the night they had spent together just holding one another had terrified him. It had been a weird moment, more awkward than anything she could remember. And they did have a history of weirdness to show for.

Spike rolled his eyes at the apparent lack of action, then shrugged again. “Fine by me.”

Buffy looked at him, trying to get a glimpse behind his façade. She failed. “Good. Come on.”

They crossed the street to the building in silence. It was a secret mission after all.

The building, all worn brick and pipes, lay in complete darkness. The pale moonlight cast even more shadows into each crook and cranny, giving the former factory a slightly spooky texture.

“Why is it that you bad guys always set up shop in old factories? Is that in the secret handbook?” the Slayer hushed when they approached what appeared to be a utility entrance.

“Evil scheming 101,” Spike shot back, glancing down at her. If she hadn’t seen him during the last twenty-four hours, she would have thought that he smirked at her. “What exactly are we looking for anyway?”

“Anything. That’s kind of the point. This is what we believe the strongholds of the Secte, where they hold their rituals or whatever. Anything can be useful.”

Spike looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “Sounds like fun.” His tone was dry, almost bored.

“Believe you me. When this thing goes down, we’re going to have more fun than we can deal with.”

“That’s what I’m here for. We done talking? Can we go sneak and peak now?”

“Hey, you’re the one asking the questions,” Buffy all but snapped. His weird, yet indefinable attitude was annoying the hell out of her.

As a response, Spike held a hand out in an ‘after you’ gesture, and Buffy pulled the door open, slipping into the building.

The place was pitch black, somewhere deeper in the darkness a water pipe leaked in a steady rhythm. Buffy almost gave a yelp when she felt Spike’s hand slip into hers, his fingers giving hers a light squeeze. Although she couldn’t see him, she felt him stepping closer to her, then his breath against her ear.

“Hold on to my hand. I see better in the dark than you.”

A shudder ran down her spine at the low rumble of his voice. There had been times when he’d been able to get her off just by talking to her.

Buffy just nodded for an answer, knowing that he’d see it. Since they wouldn’t do her any good anyway, she closed her eyes, letting her other senses take over. She let Spike lead her down a corridor and down a flight of stairs. Whenever she was about to trip over something or whenever there was any sort of obstacle in her way, he gave her hand a slight squeeze to warn her. Sometimes he took hold of her forearm as well to guide her.

“Can I ask you something?” Buffy’s voice sounded entirely too loud in the silence of the abandoned building.

“Now?” Spike hissed, his voice impossibly quiet.

“Yeah.”

“Shoot.”

“Where did you get all that stuff, the vest and that gun?”

“Told you, China.”

His hand closed around her biceps and he lifted her off her feet and over a fallen beam. The Slayer fought down a yelp of surprise. “How does that gun work? Looks like some sort of Underworld rip-off.”

“It is.” She heard another smirk in his voice. “But it’s shooting holy water instead of UV rounds. Damn efficient. I could get you one.”

“No thanks, I’m sticking to good old staking.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Where are we?”

“Heading for the basement. I can hear voices somewhere below.”

Silence fell between for a moment before Buffy spoke again. “And that vest?”

“Do we really have to get into this now? We don’t know who’s down there. They might hear you blabbing.”

“If they can hear us, they already know we’re inside. We might as well talk about this now. And since you don’t talk to me, I have to ask.”

Buffy felt him tense at her side, his hand pressing down on hers with a little more force than necessary.

“The vest stops the bullets. Stakes, too.”

“What about arrows? Bolts?”

“With enough force, they go through. If you’re so intent to find a way to off me, just cut off my head.” Spike’s voice had become harder with an almost annoyed impatience.

“I’m not intent to kill you. I’m trying to find out what going on with you.”

Spike let go off her hand, leaving Buffy staggering a little in the darkness. “Nothing’s going on with me. Just stop asking these bleedin’ questions.”

On instinct, the Slayer reached out, grapping Spike by the collar of his jacket. “Then why are you acting so weird?”

Silence. Thick, uncomfortable, choking silence.

Buffy heard Spike shifting in the darkness beside her, then he cleared his voice almost inaudibly.

“I’m not acting… weird.” He almost spat the last word out as though it was venom on his tongue. “Now shut up.”

Buffy was about to protest when his hand clamped down over her mouth, blocking half her airway.

A light appeared at the end of the corridor they had been in. At first, it was a vague glow in the darkness, then it took the form of a door opening. Voices poured out of the room beyond. The sound carried the creepy quality of a chant, a ritual of some sort in a language Buffy didn’t understand.

Spike dragged her off to one side into another corridor, pressing her against the wall, shielding her body with his.

If he hadn’t been keeping her mouth covered with his hand, she would have asked what the hell he was doing. And then she saw a figure appearing in the spot they had been in less than a second ago. She couldn’t make out who or what it was, she only saw a dark shadow in some sort of hooded robe.

Buffy closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing. But given the fact that Spike held her pressed against the wall, one of his knees between hers, one hand over her mouth, the other somewhere at her hips, it wasn’t all that easy.

They had shared a lot of moments just like that, huddled in a dark corner somewhere, making out. It had never been in the sort of cute, ‘we’re in love and can’t let go of one another’ sort of way. It had always been raw, and needy, and dangerous, and oh so satisfying.

Memories of these moments made her nerves tingle, her senses finally kicking into overdrive. She could smell the scent of his skin, a mixture of soap, cigarettes and something unique to him she’d always found more than enticing. She also smelled his leather jacket, another familiar smell. She felt the coolness of his body through his clothing, and how he slowly warmed with the heat radiating from her.

Buffy tried to suck in a breath through her nose, pressing even more into him, reacting to his closeness. On its own accord, one of her knees went up between his, and he drew in a shuddering breath.

And then, all hell broke loose.


***