a/n – OMG!  I did it!  I beat this somagun into submission (and I have the stinkin’ bruises to prove it).  Gah, I’ve never had so much trouble with a senseless chapter before in my life!  And, I apologize in advance...this isn’t even the really good stuff.  For those of you interested (**cough**in my excuses**cough**), what I’m trying to do is present layers for both Buffy and Spike – but in a really subtle way.  It’ll all come to a head later in the story (I hope LOL) so I thank you for your patience.

Also, thanks go to my betas, Megan, Trish and Gail.  Especially Gail, who put up with, I think 6 versions of this chapter, morphing as it did.  LOL.  You’re a doll, hon.

One more thing, yeah? Disclaimers...there are snippets of dialogue from the series in here.  I didn’t write those, the wonderful and talented writers of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer did and, boy, am I glad they did.  Oh, and I don't own anyhing. Just borrowing them, fellas.  *waving*

Enjoy.

hugs, sfg


Who am I?
 
~~~***~~~

Chapter 11 – Rage and the Slayer

“...I might have mentioned...Riley’s.”

“And the hits just keep on coming.”

It was turning out to be a glorious night on the Hellmouth. 

Over the course of the evening, Spike had not one, but two very tasty Slayers plastered against his body.  He’d gotten to jerk the chain of the Watcher.  And best of all, he’d looked forward to the Great Boy Scout getting his arse handed to him by ‘a criminally insane’ rogue Slayer.

Unlife couldn’t get much better than that.

Well, if this Faith bint killed the wanker in a bloody and supremely painful way, that’d be better. 

And the chip.  If that came out. 

But other than that, things were looking pretty damn good as far as Spike was concerned.

The only thing was...  Well, that smell . 

When Red spilled about the Slayer’s honey being on the radar of the imposter, Buffy in the Faith Suit had headed out the door of the flat at a rather impressive speed for someone who he’d been dragging around not too long ago.  The rest of their little rag-tag group was left to trail in her wake.

Any person, or demon, for that matter, that saw them would assume he was a part of the Slayer’s crowd of hangers-on, but he wasn’t about to miss the fireworks at the Frat house, not even for that. 

Besides, it wasn’t like she was wearing her own skin.

Which led back to the smell.  Sure, his Slayer was stuffed into a different body, a body that had its own unique signature scent – if Buffy’s scent was sunshine, this Faith bint would be moonlight, dark and musky – but beneath that, he kept getting a whiff of something that just wasn’t computing for him.

He expected to scent her anger.  He expected to scent her nerves.  He especially expected to scent her fear for the boy. 

Well, none of those were the smell .  No.  What kept rolling off the Slayer in waves so strong they practically brought him to his knees was a complex combination of lightly scented resignation and acceptance over an overwhelmingly robust rage .

Rage and the Slayer.  It was delicious

And right distracting.  Especially when he wanted to focus on the mental image of a broken and brutalized Riley Finn, and his mind kept flitting to snapshots of the Slayer in glorious temper.

Standing in the wreckage of the High School’s window.
“The last Slayer I killed, she begged for her life.  You don’t strike me as the begging kind.”
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
“I know.  I ruined your doilies and stuff.  But I just got so bored.  Tell you what, as a personal favor from me to you, I’ll make it quick.  It won’t hurt a bit.”
“No, Spike.  It’s gonna hurt.  A lot.”

Halloween.  A pale and frightened brunette Buffy in a Lady’s dress.
“Look at you.  Shaking.  Terrified.  Alone.  Lost little lamb.  I *love* it.”
A beautiful backhand across her cheek that pinked it right up.  Grabbing a handful of her hair.  Fangs approaching her creamy neck and then...just a silly wig in his hand.
“Hi, honey.  I’m home.”

An old bomb shelter made out to look like a club.  A bunch of ninnies dressed like Bela Lugosi wanna-be’s, crying and wailing ‘cause it didn’t work out the way they’d planned.  The Slayer, hand wrapped around Drusilla, stake poised to kill.
“Spike!”
“Everybody STOP!”
“Good idea.  Now you let everyone out, or your girlfriend fits in an ashtray.”

An old, run down church.  Angelus and Drusilla tied together, knife through their clenched hands.  Strength and power leaking out of the big git into his Dark Princess.
“Angel.”
“Yeah.  It bugs me, too, seeing him like that.  Another five minutes, though and Angel will be dead, so…I forebear.  Don’t feel too bad for Angel, though.  He’s got something you don’t have.”
“What’s that?”
“Five minutes.”

Brawling with that dark skinned Slayer and then a tuck and a roll and he was facing Buffy again.
“I’d rather be fightin’ you anyway.”
“Mutual.”

Spike shook off the mental wanderings and, with a muttered “bloody hell”, adjusted his jeans so he could walk with a little less pain.

Falling back, he allowed the Watcher to take his place just behind the hard-striding form of the Slayer and he pulled even with a nervous Red and the little witchy companion whose scent was all over her.

He walked in silence for a few, watching the Slayer’s angry stride and the way she ignored the pain she was still obviously in.  When he figured the two witches had settled to his presence he spoke without taking his eyes off the Slayer.

“So, now.  This is interestin’, innit?”  He kept his voice low and even, matter of fact.  He flicked a glance at the startled pair.  “I’m thinkin’ it’s gonna be really entertainin’, ya know?  Probably knock her down a few pegs, to have to wear the body of a wanted murderer for the rest of her life.”

“What are you talking about, Spike?” Willow asked nervously.  “We did that katra.  She’s gonna be Buffy.  Just as soon as we find Faith—”

“She’s gonna kill her,” he stated with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows.  He tapped his nose.  “You may not have my nose, but you gotta be able to sense that rage.”  Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and let the delicious sent waft over him.  “Mmm.  Like fresh baked cookies.” He opened his eyes, curling his tongue behind his teeth and watched the quiet one pale visibly. 

Ah, now that’s fear.  

Apparently, Red caught her little friend’s expression, too. 

“She won’t,” she said, her voice petulant, an angry, pouty look on her face.  All she needed to complete the image of childishness was her clenching her fists and stamping her foot.  “Buffy’s good.  She won’t kill her, even if she does deserve it.”

The blonde witch gasped and stopped in her tracks, staring at Red with wide eyes.  Pinned by those innocent peepers, Willow went contrite and Spike grinned at how whipped she was.  “No, Tara.  I-it’s, i-it’s not like that.  I mean, Faith is bad.  Bad, bad, bad.  She killed a man.  And-and, she tried to kill Buffy.  And let’s not forget the whole Angel thing—”

“Oh, please.  That wanker?”  

Spike had been monitoring the Slayer’s progress since he didn’t want to miss out on anything and relaxed a bit when she stopped in front of a noisy frat house to converse with the Watcher.  But the mention of the great brooding git snapped his full attention back to the witches.

“He’s a vampire .  Slayer’s are supposed to kill vampires.  ‘Sides, not like this Faith chit did a bang up job there, anyway.  He’s still annoyingly undead, even if he is in L.A. instead of here.”

The Redhead turned snide.  “I wasn’t talking about her trying to kill him.”  She turned back to her bird and said, “Which she did .  That wasn’t the worst thing.”  She cast her eyes quickly toward Spike and then back to the unconvinced girl.  Lowering her voice, she said, “It was...worse.”

Spike snorted.  He was thoroughly enjoying the frustrated look on the witch’s face.  It was so cute how her face flushed pink when she got that, what did she call it?  Oh, right , her ‘resolve face’.  So he taunted her.  “Worse than a poison arrow in her honey?  Red, how much of those witchy herbs have you been smokin’?”

A flash of dark anger assailed his sensitive nose and he could have sworn her eyes went black for a mo’.  “Tell me, Spike, ” she hissed, spitting out his name, “how’d ya like watching your honey with Angelus?  Walk in the park, right?”

The minute she said it, the anger fled and she slapped a hand over her mouth, darting a quick look toward Buffy, then lowering her head in, what looked like, shame.

It took a minute for the words to make sense.  When the light bulb went on he couldn’t hold back the huff of surprise.

Faith and Peaches. 

Bugger.

He turned his attention toward the Slayer and her Watcher and the rage finally made sense.  Another of Buffy’s boys goes to the competition. 

Hard damn pill to swallow and he should know.

Disappointment lanced through him.  Damn.  He’d really been looking forward to the bloodshed.  Still, could happen , he thought after a moment and the thought perked him right up again. 

When he turned back to the redhead she was wringing her hands and shifting uneasily, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

It was funny, really.  He wanted to enjoy it.  But when she was like this, Willow had a way about her that always seemed to have his inner wanker rearing its ugly head.  Like that time he tried to bite her after the commandos had snatched him.  There he was, unable to be a true demon.  And hungry , damn it.  But one crumpled look from her and he was all reassuring her that he’d bite her if he could.

Damn women.

“Hey, Red, quit frettin’ yourself,” he muttered to the chagrined witch.  “I knew it wasn’t Buffy.” He decided to leave out the part where he didn’t care that the Slayer wasn’t acting like herself, and that he would’ve shagged her right proper, right there, under the stairs at the Bronze, if the cock-tease hadn’t shot him down.  But, hey, he was evil, right? “Glinda there, she knew it wasn’t Buffy and she’d never even met the chit before.  Don’t you think Cardboard’ll figure it out?”

She lifted her head again, chewing on the side of her lip.  “You’re right.  Riley’ll know.”  She looked uncertainly to her girl.  “Won’t he?”

“Spike!”  The Slayer’s voice startled them all, bringing them back to the situation at hand.

He watched as she gritted her teeth, but no one was more surprised than him when she said, “I need your help.”

tbc