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Beer Foamy by Spikez_tart
 
Dance the Night Away
 
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Chapter 17 – Dance the Night Away


London, Crepuscule Place, January 22, 1901 - Lady Vicky received a private note today. The note was conveyed in a secretive manner involving the use of a stable boy. The boy was too thick to obscure his delivery of the note and handed it to the Slayer in my presence. I was immediately suspicious and bribed Lady V.’s maid, with the payment of a shilling as hush money, to uncover the subterfuge. I learned that her Ladyship is receiving private correspondence from Lord Teansdale without permission from her father.

I must act.


***

Travers held his glass up to the light to admire the rich amber color of Giles’ single malt scotch. “Admirable beverage. One of the few tolerable things about visiting the States. Why don’t you tell me what kind of scrape Miss Summers has gotten herself into?”

“Who says Buffy has gotten herself into anything? She’s busy with her duties, attending school, making new friends. This is an important time in any young person’s life. She’s taking advantage of the opportunity to obtain an education, or what passes for one here in the States.” Giles lied smoothly. At one time, lying to Quentin Travers might have been difficult, but no longer.

“You opened the package.” Travers set his glass down and picked up the bottle and poured himself another generous drink.

Berk. Travers was drinking up all of Giles’ good scotch. He must remember to replace this bottle with something cheap and find a new hiding place for the good stuff. “You could only know that I opened the package, if you burgled my flat.”

For years, Giles had wondered how closely the Council kept an eye on him and their Slayer. He’d suspected he’d been watched or followed on several occasions, but had never caught anyone actively spying on him. His nervous feelings had increased during the debacle with Faith, but once she was in a coma, the feeling of being watched had eased off.

Now, he knew the truth. The Council never stopped watching them. Perhaps they were suspicious of a Slayer who fought on her own terms, refused to follow their petty rules and yet managed to outlive her predecessors by many years. They were certainly suspicious enough to break into his apartment to check on the package he’d been hiding since he came to Sunnydale.

Travers didn’t bother to directly answer Giles’ accusation or explain that burgling was not necessary when a small, discreet magic spell was available. He was Head of the Council. He didn’t answer to Field Watchers. Still, he preferred to get confirmation of the news he’d heard in a more or less friendly manner from the man who was ostensibly responsible for the Slayer’s behavior. “Does it matter?”

“I’m heartened to know how much trust you place in me, and in Buffy.”

“Why so self-righteous, Giles? You’re the one who broke trust with the Council and on more than one occasion. The instructions on Gosnard-Tisklin’s journal specifically state that you are required to notify the Council and receive written permission before opening it and examining the contents. You didn’t. I think I can say that my mistrust was not misplaced.”

Just because Giles had been caught opening that blasted package without permission, didn’t mean that he was about to blurt out any unnecessary information about Buffy’s activities. “My curiosity overcame my better judgment. My own great-grandmother …”

“Curiosity or desperation? I think the latter. Miss Summers is in trouble – possibly great danger – or you wouldn’t have violated Council secrecy rules. I know we’ve had our differences, Rupert, but it’s time to embrace our common mission. We are sworn to battle evil where we find it. We can’t do that if we’re at each other’s throats.”

Giles scoffed at Quentin’s posturing. “The mission wasn’t so important when you fired me. And, I find embracing the common mission a bit inconvenient when I’m expecting any moment to receive a shiv in my back.”

Travers refilled Giles’ glass and his own. “Hashing over past events serves no purpose. I assume you wish to help the girl, so why don’t you tell me how our Slayer came to be mated to one of the most notorious vampires in history?”

Giles sighed. So, Travers knew about the claim. “I don’t know the specifics. Buffy is no longer a young girl that I can bully about her personal life.”

“Is it certain that a claim has been effected?”

“It appears so.”

“Setting aside the unpleasant problem of having our Slayer under the control of William the Bloody, we have a unique opportunity here to study our enemy. Have you come to any conclusions about how or why such a thing is possible?”

Was I ever a cold-hearted bastard like Travers, so cold that’d I be able to put aside the personal danger to a young woman in order to study some thick-skulled, evil creature like Spike? He didn’t want to appear like a big girl’s blouse in front of Travers, so he kept that opinion to himself. “I have certain theories based upon the facts I know. I believe that vampires are attracted to Slayers, perhaps due to some vestige of human emotions that remain after their souls vacate and the demon takes over.”

“Impossible. Once the demon is established, no human characteristics remain. That was established conclusively by Purnell Lenox when he was Watcher for Bootsie Stoppard in the 20’s.”

Whatever a Watcher might tell his Slayer concerning the emotions of vampires in order to make her task lighter, the theories of Purnell Lenox had been categorically disproved in 1957 by the work of Pambaritha Guapta-Patel, the Council’s primary researcher and theorist at that time. It was just like Travers to cling to whatever unscientific balderdash he learned as a boy.

“Even if vampires have no emotions that we recognize, they have an immature fascination for the forbidden, the dangerous, the mysterious. What could be more forbidden and attractive to them, than the girl who is sworn to destroy their kind?”

“I suppose vampires might be attracted to a Slayer like a magpie is attracted to shiny objects,” Travers said.

“You are completely underestimating the intelligence, the animal cunning if you will, of a vampire of Spike’s maturity.” Aunt Nancy Travers probably never met an unrestrained vampire in his life.

“William the Bloody’s so-called intelligence doesn’t explain why he singled out Miss Summers for sexual intercourse and mating.”

“No, it doesn’t, but since there are now three known cases of vampires mating slayers, it seems unlikely that it is a coincidence. There must be some strong basis for a vampire to attempt to make such a claim. There may be a kind of mystical attraction between Spike’s vampire demon and the demon essence instilled in the Slayer when she was called.”

“And, what about the girl’s feelings? Has she displayed some personal interest in this creature?” Travers took out a nasty, green cigar, bit the end and spit it out. He lit up and ignored the look of revulsion on Giles’ face.

“Buffy is -- disturbed -- by the claim. Previously, she despised Spike. They were mortal enemies from their first meeting two years ago. Now, she appears to tolerate his presence.” She appears to be banging the vile bastard silly every chance she gets.

What a fool Giles was. How was it possible for him to be so blind after working with a Slayer for so many years? The sexual appetites of Slayers were legendary. All first-year apprentice Watchers tittered about it with their fellow Watchers. He’d be willing to risk two quid that the Summers girl was banging the vile bastard silly every chance she got. “Two years and Miss Summers has failed to exterminate this monster that she supposedly loathes. I believe you are deceiving yourself about your Slayer’s feelings.”

“Oh, please. Don’t try to put that old dodge off on me. Buffy is not secretly in love with Spike. Just the opposite. And, frankly, I don’t care what Spike feels, or if he feels. Fortunately, I read Sir Arthur’s journal in time. The claim will expire on Friday night and Buffy has promised to take the necessary steps at that time.”

“She will kill the vampire?”

“Yes. Certainly. I have no doubts on that point. Buffy has always done her duty. She won’t shirk on this occasion either. She won’t hesitate because some personal discomfort may be involved.”

Travers chewed on his cigar. Rupert Giles was a simpleton if he thought the Slayer was going to kill William the Bloody after he’d claimed her. Not that it mattered. Travers made up his mind four days ago when he heard about the claim from his spy. He’d only come to California to ascertain the accuracy of the report. After all, removing a Slayer, especially one as successful as Miss Summers, was a delicate and serious matter.

Now that Giles had confirmed the truth of the claiming, Travers would activate the waiting team to remove the vampire. If the Slayer happened to get killed at the same time as a result of the claim, well, that would be unfortunate, but she had already lived far longer than any Slayer before, so no one could say she’d been cheated. Slayers come and go. The Council and its Watchers, not the Slayers, provided the necessary continuity with the past. Only an ass like Rupert Giles would allow himself to become so personally attached to his charge that he couldn’t see what had to be done.

Buffy’s demise would bring the added benefit of removing the anomaly of having two Slayers. Once Buffy was out of the way, he could arrange to have Faith released from prison. If Faith’s rehabilitation proved less sincere that reported, Faith would meet with an accident, and a new Slayer, untainted by the convoluted troubles of Buffy and Faith, would be called. The Slayer line would be re-established in proper form.

Either way, the Slayer problem would be solved.

***

Buffy took her Mom’s advice. After a short stop at her dorm room to try on ten or twelve outfits before settling on a shiny red top, a black mini-skirt and black leather pumps, which she so did not put on because they were somebody’s favorite colors, she went to the Bronze alone.

The Bronze was packed with college students, many of them were the same students who’d hung out at the Bronze when Buffy was in high school. It was like she’d never gone to college at all, but was deja′-looping back to her old high school haunts with all the same people. She was bound to see somebody she knew, which was okay as long she didn’t have to see Spike. Bronzing was good, even if it was lame.

She kept the claim closed so Spike couldn’t track her down and so Spike wouldn’t be thinking in her brain. She didn’t want to think about Spike with her own brain either, especially after her halfsie promise to Giles that she would do what was necessary when it came time for the claim to expire. Giles had been so worried, he’d accepted her promise on face value without getting her absolute promise to break the claim and kill Spike at her first opportunity.

No, she wasn’t going to think about Spike or claims or mating or anything serious tonight. She was going to avoid Xander and Anya, who had just come in. She was going to have a good time, meet some new people and dance with somebody really …

“Buffy? Hey!” Parker said. “I was hoping I would hook up with you tonight. I wanted to talk to you without your husband around. Guess he’s a bit of the jealous type. Can’t say I blame him. If you were my wife, I’d be protective, too.”

Ugh. What did she ever see in this moron with his squishy Mr. Sensitive chat? Spike had his faults, actually, he pretty much didn’t have anything but faults, but he never gave her a line of bull like Parker did – My scars are all psychological. It makes me think about, you know, living for now. Absolutely, I’ll give you a call. You know it hit me hard. I just don't put stuff off anymore. It's about living for now. Absolutely, I’ll give you a call. Right after I’ve boinked every woman under thirty on the planet. Absolutely.

After that, Spike talk was a relief. Sweet Slayer, I’m gonna make you cum till your brain falls out.

Why had she come here? She’d been so anxious to avoid Spike, that she’d run right into this scabie, Parker. Maybe she could use Spike for something useful for a change. “Yeah, Spike’s jealous and he’s also a Blood-Thirsty Serial Killer who displays tendencies of Homicidal Peevishness when anybody messes with me. Maybe you should leave me alone.”

Parker laughed. “You’re a howl, Buff. I never noticed how funny you were. You have a great sense of humor.”

“Those pesky character traits are hard to notice when you’re busy avoiding a person.”

She turned her back on Parker to watch the band and give him an opportunity to leave the State of California by the first available Greyhound bus, but instead he took the opportunity to slime himself closer.

“You look really hot tonight. I can see your pert little nipples through that top.”

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. What had she been thinking of, going out without a brassiere? Spike, that’s what she’d been thinking.

“I’m not only humor sophisticated, Parker, but I have a great left hook. You make another crack like that and you’ll be squinting at my pert little nipples through a black eye. What do you want, anyway?”

“You don’t mean that, babe.” He slid his hand around her waist. “Look, your man isn’t here tonight, so we can get reacquainted without him being any wiser. We could have a nice talk, dance a little, drink a little wine. See what develops.”

Buffy peeled his fingers off her waist and gave them an excruciating squeeze before she shoved his hand away.

“So, now we’re talking-dancing-drink-a-little-wine-see-if-I-can-trick-Buffy-into-cheating-on-her-husband- and-putting-out-again-buddies?”

“I’d like us to be friends, Buffy. I’d like to show my appreciation to you for saving my life the other night. Let you get a chance to see the Real Parker.”

“I didn’t like Phony Parker, so I’m thinking I’d rather have a big, honking fork stuck in my eye than get to know Real Parker, but since I’m really not into self-inflicted eyeball pain, I’ll just say no.”

Parker put on his best, painfully disappointed face. It would be even more fun to conquer Feisty Buffy than the Lonely, Depressed and Needy Buffy of last week.

“Is it because of Spike? Are you in love with him or something?”

“His name is William and I …” she wanted to say no, she didn’t love Spike, but it didn’t seem right somehow to say she didn’t love her husband, especially when maybe she did, and besides, Parker only wanted to know so he could cause trouble. “And, the answer is none of your sodding business.” Oops. Where had that come from? She’d been hanging around Spike way too long if she’d started picking up his slang.

“That’s cool. I figured since you slept with me while you were married, you must have an Open Marriage. You know -- your husband sleeps around with any hot chicks he wants to be with --,” Parker stroked his finger down the side of her face and his hand headed for points south, “and you get to explore your wilder side with me.”

She slapped his hand away. “You’re disgusting and Spike, er, William and I weren’t married when I made the incredibly stupid mistake of having sex with you and I – yuck – Open Marriage – yuck!”

Parker wasn’t put off by Buffy’s resistance; it was refreshing. Girls fell all over him whenever he put out that stupid line of crap about his supposedly dead father and living for the now. Buffy fell for it, too. Now that she was showing a little backbone, she was more attractive. And, he hadn’t forgotten how energetic she was in the sack.

“Got it. So, you want to dance until your husband shows up? I’ll behave like a perfect gentleman.”

Would this guy never give up? Buffy was about to connect the sharp toe of her shoe with Parker’s shin, when she caught a flash of platinum blonde hair out of the corner of her eye. Spike. She forgot about the Aggravation That Was Parker and turned to look for her mate.

Seizing the opportunity, Parker cupped his hand on Buffy’s butt. “So, how about that dance?”

“Dance?” What was Spike doing and who was he doing it with? Oh no, impossible. He was dancing with those two hos, Rosamund and Sunday.

 
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