Chapter 11

’and then the man he steps right up to the microphone
and says at last just as the time bell rings
'thank you goodnight now it's time to go home'
- “sultans of swing” by dire straits

When Buffy woke up, the sun filtered lazily through the curtains of her apartment, dipping the place in a warm, orangish light. She shifted from her slightly cramped position on the couch, moaning when a painful kink in her back called for attention.

“You okay?”

The Slayer gave a start and almost fell off the couch at the sound of Spike’s voice only a foot from her ear. A chill ran down her spine. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Slowly, she sat up, her head spinning a little with the change of position. “Good morning,” she grumbled then, running a hand through her tousled hair.

“Mornin’,” he replied, stretching his legs, his knee popping audibly.

It was then, that she realised that she had been sleeping with her head on his thigh. “What happened?” The moment she said it, she saw a slight touch of disappointment cross his face.

“Relax. We talked, you fell asleep. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay. Not like it matters anyway.”

There was a knock on the door, nipping the uncomfortable silence in the bud. “Come in,” Buffy called out.

That same young girl who had come to get Spike popped her head in. “Miss Summers, Miss Rosenberg would like to speak to you.” Once more, a crimson blush crept on her face.

“Thanks, Cecilia. We’ll be down in a minute.”

When the girl was gone, Buffy rose to her feet, stretching her arms over her head.

“What’s with that girl?” Spike asked, his hand darting up to his shoulder to check on his bandage.

“What do you mean?”

“She keeps calling me sir. And whenever I’m around she blushes.”

“Maybe she’s got a crush on you.” She winked at him, shaking out her hair.

“You think?”

“Handsome fellow like you? Can’t blame her, exactly.”

“You say the sweetest things,” he all but smiled at her.

A beat passed between them. They just looked at one another in comfortable silence until Buffy blinked and lowered her gaze.

“Right, then. I’ll let you freshen up.” Wincing, Spike rose to his feet. “See you down there then.” He still held his arm a little stiff but his limp had gotten better over night. He was already by the door when Buffy spoke again.

“Spike?” He turned toward her. “I’m sorry.” He raised his eyebrow in confusion. “For saying that I wished you hadn’t come back. I don’t. I want you to have come back. I was just… well, I’m still angry but I know why you did it.”

“You don’t owe me an apology, Buffy. You the least of all people.”

“I know. I just wanted you to know.” For a second, she hesitated. “I need you in this. I have to know that we can… work this out.”

He looked at her for almost a full minute. Then he nodded, just once, and then he left.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Buffy knew that she had screwed it up. She had never been good with the morning after, and with Spike, it was even worse.

Back in their… rough days, he had made it easy for her. Most of the time, he had pretended to be asleep when she knew he wasn’t, giving her the chance to sneak out of his crypt without having to talk to him. It would have lead to the same dreary conversation anyway. But now…

Before she went down to the conference room, she changed quickly, raked a brush through her hair, and splashed some water into her face to hide the signs of an almost sleepless night.


*

Willow sat at her laptop, a mug of hot, pitch-black coffee in front of her. The witch also looked as if she’d pulled an all-nighter.

When Buffy came in, Spike sat at the end of the table, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. He didn’t even look up when she entered the room.

“You wanted to talk to us,” Buffy sat down on the table, her back to the vampire.

“Yeah, I just wanted to brief you in before I tell the girls. The book you brought me,” Willow looked up at Spike, “gives an explanation as to why nobody followed you guys out. The Fates have been dormant for a while now. If the Secte has actually awakened them, they might still be weak. From what I’ve read they sort of have to be charged with… a life force, if you wish. As long as they are weak, they have to be protected from those who mean to harm them. Which would be us. Once they have gathered enough power, they are free to work on their own, go wherever they want.”

“Just like when we reassembled the judge,” Spike said, stopping the drumming. “At first, we had to bring him his victims and then he could just…,” he snapped his fingers, “zap them like that.”

Buffy glanced over her shoulder. “Never thought your destructo plans would eventually come in handy.” Her face lit up with a bright grin. “Oh, can I have a rocket launcher again?”

“I don’t think it’ll do us any good,” Willow smiled apologetically. “I don’t know how to kill them yet. Or if they can be killed at all. Things as ancient as these ladies are usually pretty tough to kill. Maybe I can figure out a way to banish them again.”

“Sounds good to me. But I’d say you better hurry before the Secte has fed them enough lives.”

“I’m already trying to figure out a way. I might have a solution by tonight.”

“So we’ll hit the factory again tonight. Just with more throttle this time.” Buffy hopped off the table, propping her hands on her hips. “I say we leave after sun-down.” She looked at Spike who just shrugged.

“Anything after sun-down is fine by me.”


*

Buffy knocked on his door while Spike was struggling into his Kevlar vest. His command for her to come in came out as a pain-ridden snarl.

“You sure you’re okay? You can stay here if you’re in too much pain.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “And miss out on all the fun? You kidding?” He tried to fasten a strap around his waist but winced in pain. “Can you give me a hand here?”

“Sure.” She stepped up to him, took the strap out of his hand, pulling it through the buckle. Her fingers brushed over his palm and for a brief moment, his fingers closed around hers. Buffy tensed, blinked, then tried to shake it off. “How’s your foot?”

“Still hurts but I can walk it off. Shoulder’s worse, though. Can hardly lift my arm.” Spike demonstrated his impairment by trying to raise his arm a little.

“You should really stay here. I can’t afford to be looking after you.”

“You won’t have to. I’m not going to let you go in there alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have a bunch of feet-shuffling Slayers with me who are dying to kick some ass.”

“And I’m already dead. Seems like I got seniority on that one. I’m not going to argue with you on this.”

Buffy sighed in defeat. “Your call. If you get dusted, I’m not going to cry for you.” She turned on her heel to leave. Before the door clicked shut, she muttered, “Bonehead.”


*

Once more, the factory lay in darkness, looming dangerously over the street. At least this time, the Slayer and the vampire weren’t alone. Half a dozen Slayers were with them, twice as much scattered around the perimeter, all of them connected via their communication system.

And this time, Buffy carried an almost obnoxiously large flashlight, piercing the pitch black hallway with a bobbing ray of light.

The group made their way down the hall toward the door that led down into the basement. To Buffy’s surprise, they weren’t greeted by any vampires or screeching creatures. The Secte seemed to feel pretty secure in their dingy little hide-out. That, or they were just plain stupid.

In the harsh light of the flashlight, Buffy motioned the gang to move quietly in pairs. The door gave an unhealthy squeak when the Slayer pulled it open. For a brief moment nobody even dared to breath. When nothing happened, they slowly descended into the basement.

Halfway down the stairs, Spike reached for the flashlight, pushing it slightly down. In the remaining light, he pointed down the stairs to another steel-framed door, then gestured for the rest of the gang to stay behind. Trying not to let his limp show all too much, he approached the door alone. He laid a hand on the door, then pressed his ear against the steel. His eyes flickered shut as he tried to concentrate on the sounds that came from the other side. After a moment or two, he pushed away from the door again, returning to the group.

“There are bunch of people down there,” he murmured, more to Buffy than to the rest of the gang. “Can’t tell if it’s vampires or not. But there were also some girlie voices.”

“The Fates?” Buffy shone the flashlight up into her face, the light casting spooky shadows on her features.

“Likely,” he blinked irritated. “Can you stop with the shadow puppets? That’s creepy.”

“Sorry,” she lowered the beam again. “Let’s move in then. We go first, the rest of you follow. You know the formation.” Beside Buffy, Spike pulled his gun from the holster at his leg, wincing as he moved his arm. “Are you really sure you’re up for this?”

Without so much as glancing down at her, he limped down the stairs again, opening the door in one un-ceremonial swoop.


*

The room beyond was – much to everybody’s surprise – illuminated by a few dozens of candles. They were placed in a variety of candleholders scattered about the room, dipping the basement into a warm, flickering light.

“Well, that’s kinda… romantic,” Buffy murmured when she had caught up with the vampire.

“Sissy,” he shot halfway over his shoulder to her.

She wanted to reply something but the moment she opened her mouth, a young man in a black silk robe stepped out of the shadows, his hands hidden somewhere in the folds of his clothing.

“My, my… who do we have here? Didn’t you get enough last time?”

Buffy glanced at Spike, raising an eyebrow. “Is talking like that never going to get old?”

“Guess not. But we would miss something, wouldn’t we?”

Before the Slayer could say something more, she was tackled from one side and thrown to the ground. A vampire now sat astride her, throwing wild punches at her face.

A shot from Spike’s gun barked all too loud in the basement but the bullet missed as he, too, was jostled to the ground.

Buffy struggled to regain the upper hand. She twisted her legs wildly, throwing the vampire to one side. When she glanced around her, she saw half a dozen vampires attacking the rest of the group.

Not that the average vampire posed much of a threat to the bunch of Slayers but they were a nasty distraction from their actual target. Two or three of the girls had already gained the upper hand, reaching for their weapons.

Just as the others regained control over the fight, the building shook with a violent tremor, bricks crumbled somewhere in the dark, pipes creaked in the walls.

Three female voices blending into one rang through the basement and echoed off the walls, magnifying the command to an almost unbearable cacophony.

“QUIET!”

And then, time around them froze.


***