Chapter 6 - Up to Something

The Watcher’s Journal of Sir Arthur Gosnard-Tisklin.

Skelton on Ure, October 1, 1900 – I received a telegram from the Council this morning, advising me of a vampire sighting in the Village of Crustleigh. Crustleigh is two miles from the Earl’s property in Skelton on Ure. I will introduce my charge to her first vampire this evening.
…

The groom saddled our horses shortly before sunset. I was forced to reprimand Lady Victorine for wearing a blue velvet riding habit with lace trim and a ridiculous wide-brimmed hat featuring tiny golden paper finches holding leaves in their beaks. I reminded her that we would be slaying a vicious creature of the night and not attending a ball. She pouted in a very immature manner, but returned to the house to change after I casually remarked that vampire dust was very difficult to remove from one’s clothing.

After a short ride, we approached the churchyard of Crustleigh. The village was silent, not a dog barking or a human voice to be heard. We settled ourselves to wait on a large, family headstone belonging to the Urkwind family. Lady Victorine passed the time by singing some music hall ditties more suitable for a burlesque theater than for a person of her class and gentle sex. She sang The Man that Broke the Bank in Monte Carlo and Two Lovely Black Eyes in an off-key voice worthy of the highest branches of the royal family tree.

I was prepared to remonstrate about the need for silent waiting, when the vampire popped from behind the vicar’s house. He was a rather scruffy specimen, but I felt a fitting challenge for Lady Victorine’s first attempt. She jumped off the Urkwind headstone and stood stock still. I waved at her to chase after the creature, but she ignored my signal and instead, crooked her finger at the monster and smiled as brightly at the vampire as if she was offering him a place by her side at County Michaelmas Ball.

The vampire leaped forward and lunged at Lady Victorine. I admit I felt a shock of fear as she elegantly sidestepped him and clouted him on the head with her gloved fist. He rushed back with a roar in time to impale himself on her extended stake. Unfortunately, her stake speared the wrong side of his ribcage, wounding him grievously, but not mortally. Lady Victorine slapped his face, a trifle roughly I thought, then proceeded to grasp her stake and wrench it out of the evil one’s chest. He howled with anger as she twisted and tugged on the stake. Finally, she braced her foot on the fiend’s chest and tugged the stake free. The Slayer thrust the stake through the vampire’s heart with a flourish.

A cloud of dust burst out of the vampire’s disintegrating body, showering Lady Victorine with the ashes of his death.

“Blast it,” she said.

***

Buffy hovered over Willow’s shoulder, while Willow studied the Vampyr book. Buffy was too nervous and upset to do anything useful like study or chase after Spike and kick his ass.

“Find anything, Will?”

Willow turned Page 367 of the Vampyr book. “Buff, you asked me two minutes ago. It’s not like I can turn to the index and flip right to the ‘Crazy Vampire, William the Bloody, Performs a Creature of the Night Mating Claim on the Slayer’ section. ‘Cause there isn’t one. An index, I mean.”

“I’m sorry, Will. Oh, I forgot to listen to our messages.” She’d been not at all interested in listening to phone messages since the Parker debacle, but it would give her something to do for two or three minutes while Willow figured out how to extricate her from this damn mating claim.

“Message 1 – Buffy, this is Angel. Spike was in town trying to get the ring back. I destroyed it. He’s in a bad mood, and he could be headed your way. Thought you’d like to know. Beep.”

“Great, another timely message from Angel. Bad stuff coming your way, Buff, thought you’d like to know.” She hit the skip button.

“Message 2 – Buffy, hey, this is Parker. I thought, you know after last night, maybe we could hook up. How about tonight? Call me. Beep.”

“Gee, lost your number, Parker.” Skip.

“Message 3 – Hi Buffy, it’s Mom. How about dinner tonight? You can bring your laundry. Beep.”

“Wow, I get all the best invitations. Will, you want to take your laundry over to my Mom’s tonight?”

“Message 4 – Hey, Buffy, it’s Riley. Would you like to study at the library tonight? We could have coffee later. Give me a call.”

“Huh. Coffee and a bunch of boring old books. I can hardly wait.” Skip.

“Message 5 – Slayer. Find me. Beep.” Buffy swallowed hard. What was he up to now?

“Was that Spike?” Willow asked.

“Yeah. Leave it to Spike to be Call Back Guy.”

“Hey, it’s kinda nice. You know, the part where a guy calls you back the next day in a non-humiliating way, so you know it wasn’t a one night stand, instead of not calling you back so you know he was just using you for the Sex.”

“Oh yes, because I’m dying to get called by Spike and told to show up somewhere like I’m his Love Slave.” Could he make her show up with this claim thing? And, how would she know where to find him? And, how did he get her phone number?

“I don’t think a mate is the same thing as a Love Slave.”

Buffy couldn’t stand it. She couldn’t stand thinking about Spike and hearing messages from the Old Boyfriend’s Club and waiting for Willow to find something useful. She needed to get out, go somewhere, pummel something. “I should patrol. I’ll get out of your Researchy Hair and go slay something. Killing something repulsive will relieve the tension.”

Willow turned another page and held the book sideways to study the woodcut print. Her eyes widened when she realized what she was looking at. “Wait! Here it is. Listen to this.”

“Vampyrs have been known to claim their Vampyr Mates with an exchange of blood vows during sexual congress. The male initiates the claim by biting his mate on the neck or another place with an accessible vein. The male makes a verbal declaration that his mate belongs to him, and she must respond in kind to effectuate the claim. It is not known whether a claim signifies any emotional bond between the mating pair or merely enables the male to retain dominance over his female companion.”

“That’s what Spike did,” Buffy said. “He bit me, then he said ‘Mine’, then he made me answer ‘Yours.’”

“Bit you? I don’t see any bite. Did it heal up already?”

Buffy stared at Willow.

“Okay. Don’t need to know that detail.” She skimmed down the page. “Here’s more.”

“Little is known of the ritual, other than the bare facts of its existence. Vampyrs rarely engage in mating claims due to the danger to both parties. The remaining fragments of an ancient Carolingian text, Blood Thieves of Roen, cites stories of mated pairs communicating telepathically and sharing physical feelings, such as pain. The text goes on to state that when one Vampyr of a mated pair is killed, the Vampyr’s mate may also be killed, whether in the presence of the mate or not.”

“Spike would have to be telling the truth about that part. Does it say anything about vampires claiming humans?”

“There are no recorded cases of a Vampyr claiming a human. The male Vampyr may be reluctant to claim a human due to the variance in life spans between the two species.”

“So, why did Spike claim me? I’m already past the Slayer Freshness Guaranteed Date, and even if I lived to be an old lady, he could live hundreds of years more than me.”

“Maybe he wants to neutralize you while he does some mischief. He’ll be able to feed on whoever he wants and you won’t be able to kill him.”

“Yes, and maybe my beloved mate knows something about this claim thing we don’t know. I think I’ll go check up on my new husband.”

“I’ll keep looking. There must be a way to break the claim. Don’t forget to bring back the jelly donuts.”

***

“Listen up, people,” Spike said to his minions.

Spike was feeling pretty chuffed. Three nights ago, he’d been at the battering end of Angel’s fists, and tonight he’d beaten up thirteen prime male vampires, picked up a couple of Harmony’s fledges, which would piss her off no end, and established his dominance over them all. He’d proclaimed himself the new Master of Sunnydale and he had his clever trick on the Slayer to thank. That, and the nice energy boost he’d received from that tasty drink of her blood he’d helped himself to last night.

His trick would keep the Slayer neutralized for days or as long as he cared to keep up the claim.

True, he’d promised himself after the debacle with the Gem of Amara, to be his own man, no more helpers, sole survivor, lone wolf and all that, but that was before he drafted the Slayer onto his team.

His minions fixed up a new lair in an abandoned temple called the New Age Meditation and Happy Feelings Worship Center. The former occupants left behind their tie-died curtains, some crystals hanging from the ceiling, which the vampires avoided on general principle, karma flash cards and boxes of stale granola, which was no substitute for Weetabix, but good enough for this riff raff. Candles flickered and provided meager light for the lair.

He marched to the front of the main room, kicking a couple of vampires along the way to get everyone’s attention.

“I am your new Master. This is your lair. You will keep it tidy at all times. If you spill blood, clean it up. Trash removal on Mondays and Thursdays. Make sure all bodies get taken to the curb in time for removal.”

The two fledges in the front row grumbled to each other. Spike smashed their heads together to remind them not to interrupt their Master.

He held up a photograph of the Slayer, which he had stolen from her mother’s house earlier in the day. Silly bint never bothered to uninvite him after they ganged up on Angelus to keep him from destroying the world, an event that Spike had regretted ever since, except for the part where the world didn’t get destroyed, of course.

“This is the Slayer. You will stay away from her. If you see her, you will run. You will not engage her in a fight under any circumstances.”

“That looks like Buffy Summers. And, what’s a Slayer?” Tucker asked. He scratched his neck. He was still wearing his fast-food restaurant uniform with a red and white badge on his shirt that said ‘Hello. My Name is Tucker.’

Spike kicked Tucker in the head.

Cleotus stood up and crossed his meaty arms. He flicked a tiny muscle in his right forearm.

Spike would have had a damn hard time dominating Cleotus without a boost from Slayer blood. He’d have to dust this bastard before too long if he wanted to keep his minions in line and his own unlife.

“You scared of the Slayer, Mas-s-s-ter?” Cleotus hissed out the word Master to let the other minions know he considered Spike a sissy. Spike used some magick trick to subdue him. No way William the Pansy was strong enough to take him out in a fair fight.

Spike smiled and walked over to where Cleotus was standing. He clamped his hand onto Cleotus’ neck and dug his fingers into the raw bite mark he’d made when subduing the other vampire. Cleotus howled with pain and dropped to his knees. Spike jerked out one of his nipple rings for good measure.

“Any other questions? Good. Each night I will tell you where the Slayer is patrolling. You’ll be able to avoid her and get in plenty of good feeding without worrying about getting staked.”

The vampires, except Cleotus, murmured their approval. Good feeding and avoiding the Slayer. That was the sign of a good Master. All they needed to know was how many victims to bring him in order to maintain his protection.

Spike felt a prickle on the back of his neck. His mate was right outside, spying on him. Fat lot of good it would do her. Not even his Slayer would be able to take out a lair of fifteen vampires.

***

Buffy peeked in the window of the New Age Meditation and Happy Feelings Worship Center. She couldn’t see much past the blue and purple tie-died cloth that covered the window.

She didn’t like what she could see.

Spike and thirteen – fourteen - fifteen male vampires. Except for the two fledges in the front, they were all old and all tough. They seemed to be deferring to Spike, especially after he pinched the neck of the one brutey-looking vamp and drove him, screaming, to his knees. That one looked particularly nasty.

She didn’t like what she was feeling either – a strange, overwhelming longing to run to her mate – ewww – and leap into his arms and kiss him senseless. Must be the stupid claim. She wasn’t about to give in to that. Not that the claim hadn’t proved useful. She’d honed right in on where to find Spike, without even resorting to a trip to Willy’s Place to beat up Willy the Snitch. She’d just closed her eyes for a second and walked.

Spike had collected himself a kiss of bad-ass vampire minions. She’d have to do something about that. First, she’d get Mr. Bloody Big Bad out of the way, then she’d come back during the daytime with some wicked bad weapons and wreak maximum violence. Buffy wondered what Spike was planning, but decided she didn’t care because come tomorrow, his kiss wasn’t going to be there to accomplish his plan.

He was saying something about feeding, but she couldn’t hear him because his back was to the window. Then, she could read his thoughts. Her adoring mate planned to keep her busy in the sack while his minions terrorized Sunnydale. She might have been miffed except she also got the wave of feeling about how much he was planning on enjoying keeping her busy.

“You’ll stay in the lair tonight,” Spike said. “There’s blood in the fridge. No going out for a drink. I’ll be back tomorrow with your instructions.”

Good. He’d tucked his minions in for the night. She’d have time to work out a plan. She’d never taken out fifteen vamps at once. Might be fun.

She slipped back into the shadows and jogged over to Giles’ house, where she’d arranged to meet the gang.

***

Lydia Chalmers sipped her tea and replaced the Royal Dalton bone china cup in its saucer on the edge of Quentin Traver’s massive cherry desk. She loathed these meetings with the Council’s chief sneak, Martin Collin. She loathed all meetings with Quentin Travers.

Agent Collin, for once dressed in a suit and tie instead of his stupid black commando gear, stood next to Traver’s desk and rattled the change in his pockets. “Get on with it.”

Quentin Travers held up his hand. “Please be seated, Agent Collin. Lydia, Agent Collin has some news about the Slayer that I want you to hear, since you are our most knowledgeable agent on the subject of William the Bloody.”

She sat straighter and tucked a stray strand of blonde hair back into her French twist. She’d followed the career of William the Bloody since she’d first entered the Council and even before, when she’d spent a year writing her thesis on him. William was a fascinating creature and somewhat of a cheeky devil. She would rather get the chance to meet William than have a new pair of Prada shoes.

Agent Collin fidgeted with his tie and flapped it up and down. “I’ve received a report that William the Bloody returned to Sunnydale a few days ago and met up with our Slayer.”

Oh dear. She hoped the Slayer hadn’t killed William. It was terrible of her to harbor such a thought, William was a dreadful killer, but she couldn’t help wishing that William would somehow be spared the sharp point of Miss Summers’ stake. “Is he terminated?”

“Not a bit of it. It seems our Slayer has taken a fancy to another vampire. My source tells me that William nailed the silly cow and slapped a mating claim on her.”

Lydia blushed at Collin’s rude language or perhaps it was at the thought of what Miss Summers had been doing with Lydia’s favorite vampire. “Mating claims are quite rare. Perhaps you mean a dominance claim?”

“Nope. A mating claim. William appears to be a hearts and flowers kind of vamp.”

That certainly conformed to Lydia’s opinions about William. She’d always believed he was a bit of a romantic.

“Do you think such a thing is possible, Lydia?” Travers asked. He relished these little opportunities to let Lydia shine. She was so repressed and rigid.

“That the Slayer enjoyed relations with William the Bloody? I suppose it’s possible. He’s rather a hottie, as vampires go.” Rather a hottie as humans go, for that matter. She blushed again at her revealing statement.

“I see. Recommendations, Collin?” Quentin asked.

“Summers has been nothing but trouble. I say we get rid of her and the vampire,” Collin said.

Lydia bristled. What brutes these Council agents were. There was no point in addressing this fool’s remarks on the morality of ‘getting rid’ of a lovely young woman like the Slayer or of an incredible historical and vampirological specimen like William. She would have to make her case on more practical grounds. Also, she didn’t wish to appear to be a big girl’s blouse in front of her superior. “Miss Summers is our most successful Slayer. She’s terminated more vampires and demons and averted more catastrophes than any Slayer in the history of the Council. How can you possibly talk of doing away with her? Besides, how reliable is your source? You don’t even know if this story is true.”

“Bob the Warlock hasn’t led me wrong yet.” Collin said.

“Lydia raises an excellent point,” Travers said. “The first matter to be accomplished is to ascertain the veracity of the story. I think this is a matter best handled on the spot.”

This was too good to be true. She might actually get the chance to meet William, oh, and the Slayer, of course. “I’d like to volunteer my services to go to Sunnydale,” Lydia said.

Travers sat back in his chair and tapped his teeth with a pen. “No, Lydia. It’s too dangerous. I’ll need you here to research the vampire mating claim and see if there’s any way to extract our Slayer from William the Bloody’s clutches.”

Lydia agreed, although she felt anything but amenable. That old gas bag Travers was determined to keep her from advancing in her career. She always got stuck with dreary research projects instead of being sent to the field. And, she’d already assembled the latest information about vampire mating claims as part of an ongoing Council project, not to mention the information she’d obtained from certain items in her private collection. “There’s something you should know about a vampire mating claim. There’s reliable information to support the theory that the vampire and his mate must be in love, or the claim can’t be -- consummated. If it is true that Miss Summers and William are in love, our efforts to break the claim will be meaningless and shortsighted.”

“Tosh, Lydia,” Travers said. “You don’t really believe that old vampire’s tale? Please concentrate on finding a way to extricate our Slayer from this mess and don’t waste our time with any more silly, romantic nonsense.”

Lydia seethed at the insult, but said nothing.

The meeting concluded a few minutes later and Lydia headed for the cafeteria. She bought a plate of bangers and mash for her lunch and sat down next to her friend and fellow Watcher, Maynard.

“Why the long face, luv?” Maynard asked. Lydia was a charming girl and very attractive. Too bad she’d never be interested in a mug like himself.

“Meeting with Travers. Can’t tell you about it. Head swore me to secrecy before allowing me to leave the room. I thought for a moment he was going to require a blood and spit oath.”

“Wouldn’t be about the scrape our Slayer has gotten herself into, would it?”

Lydia frowned. What did Maynard know? She suspected Maynard of having hidden psychic gifts. That, or of being a really good spy or bribing Traver’s secretary, The Great Horned Toad. She placed a spoonful of mashed potatoes in her mouth and swallowed before answering. Maynard could be very clever at extracting information from the unwary. “What scrape might that be?”

“Don’t tease a bloke. You know perfectly well that Miss Summers has been claimed by William the Bloody as his mate. Lucky sod. Our Slayer fair blinds you with science. She’s almost as pretty as you, luv.”

Lydia blushed. Maynard was always saying things about her appearance that were impossible to answer. “I can’t possibly confirm such a story.”

“So, it’s true. What’s Travers going to do about it?”

Bugger, Maynard tricked her. She didn’t know how he always managed to do that. “He’s flying to Sunnydale to see if the rumor is true.”

“Taking you along, my Queen?”

“No. I’ve been invited to stay in London and research methods for breaking the claim.”

“Too bad. I know you’ve been itching to get a look at that bounder, Spike.”

Lydia bit into a chunk of sausage and said nothing. She blinked back a tear or two of frustration.

“Here, now,” Maynard said and handed her his handkerchief under the table. “It’s not as bad as all that?”

“You know how much I want a chance to work in the field, and meeting William would be a tremendously big break for me. Once again, Travers has quashed an excellent opportunity for me.”

“He’s a right bastard, but say, don’t you have some holiday time saved up?”

She had at least a week that she hadn’t used. She’d planned to use the week to take her mother to Costa del Sol. It was frightening to contemplate. “What are you suggesting?”

“California is a very pleasant place to visit, I hear.”

Lydia finished her meal in a far more pleasant state of mind. She returned to her cubicle and pulled a gold foil box from her bottom desk drawer where she kept certain personal items. She lifted out an old letter from the box and tucked it into her briefcase and popped onto the internet and scheduled a round-trip airline ticket to Los Angeles, California.