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Where You Made Your Mistake
 
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Chapter 25 – Where You Made Your Mistake



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

London, Crepuscule Place, March 17, 1901 – I arrived at Crepuscule Place at dawn and immediately sent for Lady Vicky over the protestations of her maid who advised me that she wasn’t well and required her rest.

Lady Vicky was not well. She appeared in his Lordship’s study in a white, wraithlike dressing gown, her face was thin and pale as cotton muslin. Dark blue crescents smudged under her eyes and on her hands, cold and seemingly bloodless, blue veins spread like a net under her transparent skin. The marks on her neck – no, I cannot bear to describe her sullied flesh.

“I have news, your Ladyship. The claim can be broken – in fact – it will be dissolved without any effort on your part. You have only to resist Lord Teansdales’ advances until March 20, the next full moon. On that day, the mating claim will expire and he will be forced to surrender his declaration.”

She merely smiled at me and nodded. She stood for a long time without speaking, then thanked me for my efforts and returned to her room.

I had expected more gratitude for my efforts, but I ascribed her diffidence to her weakened state and went to my bed with an easy heart.



***

“Spike! Help me!” Buffy shouted. Rosamund and Sunday attacked Buffy from two sides and none of the shoppers would leave to give her room to fight.

Spike stepped over Giles and tracked Buffy into the lingerie shop. He snapped into his vampire face and scared a few of the customers out of the store to give them room, then tapped Buffy’s shoulder. “Back to back, luv. Then, we’ll take them.”

Buffy turned her back to Spike and proceeded to spar with Rosamund. What a relief to have someone at her back when she was facing two tough opponents.

Rosamond feinted with her left fist, then jabbed Buffy in the belly. Buffy responded by dropping to her hands, kicking into a handstand and slamming her feet into Rosamund’s face.

Sunday ducked Spike’s fist, grabbing Rosamund as she ran past. The two vampires crashed through the remaining intact display window and started tossing mannequins and corsets and lace-up boots at Buffy and Spike.

Buffy caught one of the mannequins. “Wood.” She ripped its arm off and took off after the vampires.

Spike stopped fighting long enough to catch some of the sexy items that Rosamund and Sunday were pitching out the window and stuff them in his pockets. When his pockets were full, he went after Sunday.

Sunday leaped onto Spike, teeth flashing. Her fingers clawed his hair. She wrapped her legs around his chest and squeezed hard enough to crack his ribs. Spike roared and threw her halfway across the store and into Rosamund who was kicking and punching Buffy’s face in an efficient manner.

Damn! He was having a wonderful time.

Sunday sailed into Rosamund and they both crashed to the floor and slid into a wooden display case with bits of lingerie decoratively draped on the drawers.

Buffy ran up to Rosamund and skewered her heart with the mannequin hand she’d been gripping. The wooden hand shattered with the force of Buffy’s blow, but the mannequin’s pinkie finger penetrated Rosamund’s dead heart and she exploded into a cloud of dust and bits of bone.

Sunday rolled to her feet and swung wildly at Buffy. “You killed my sister, you bitch.”

“Sorry, no returns on damaged merchandise,” Buffy said. She wheeled around and kicked the back of Sunday’s head.

Sunday picked up the cash register and smacked Buffy on the head. Buffy weaved and crumpled to the floor. Sunday shoved a huge clothes cabinet onto Buffy and pinned her to the floor.

Buffy’s head spun as she watched Sunday whip out a cigarette lighter and set fire to the racks of clothing and drapes. The fire roared into a wall of flames.

Spike dodged the flames and ran to Buffy’s side and lifted the heavy cabinet. Buffy’s hands were caught and she wasn’t able to help lift, but Spike raised it high enough for her to roll out. He helped Buffy to her feet while Sunday ran out of the store, grabbing the first human she could reach, a woman with blonde hair done up in a French twist and wearing a trim, grey wool suit. She gripped the woman’s neck with her fangs and bit down.


“Back off, Slayer.” Sunday said as she brought up her bloody mouth. “I haven’t eaten yet tonight. My corpuscle count is dropping. You wouldn’t want me to take a bite.” Sunday backed away dragging the woman in front of her.

The fire spread, engulfing the draperies and racks of clothes. The flames licked their way up the walls and melted the acoustical tiles in the ceiling. A smoke alarm shrieked and the sprinkler system came on, spraying water and creating clouds of thick, black smoke. The crowd stampeded at sight of smoke pouring from the store windows. The air filled with the sounds of alarms, screams, breaking glass and running feet.

Sunday dragged the woman to the front door, then shoved her back towards Buffy and Spike, while she ran.

Buffy coughed and choked on the smoke.

Spike covered her face with his coat and carried her out.

“Get the woman,” Buffy said. She could barely speak her throat was so raw. Each breath was painful. She had to get moving. Sunday was escaping. She rolled to her feet.

“Bollocks,” Spike said. He propped Buffy up next to the fountain and ran back to the store to bring out Sunday’s latest victim.

***

Sunday grabbed another hostage from the fleeing crowd and dragged the woman onto the moving merry-go-round. She broke the woman’s neck and threw the body at Buffy to keep her from jumping on. As the platform turned, she mounted a red enameled dragon and reached out and slammed the engine controls to their highest speed.

Buffy ran up the down escalator, two steps at a time and, when she reached the top, grabbed the bric-a-brac trim on the top of the merry-go-round and swung onto the platform. She ran against the spin of the platform to reach the vampire.

“Spike! Shut down the machine!” Buffy yelled.

Nothing happened. The merry-go-round continued whirling at a furious pace. She chased after Sunday, but the vampire had only to keep running and ripping up carnival animals to fling at Buffy.

Buffy started ripping up animals herself and tossing them off the merry-go-round. She flung a purple and red-striped m’fashnik demon off the platform. The statue crashed into the controls, breaking them. The machine accelerated – faster and faster until the central spindle cracked and the merry-go-round whirled off its pole and slid down the mall floor. The huge machine crashed through the Food Court, ripping up the floors, flinging chairs and tables and finally smashing into a wall of video arcade machines.

The machine’s momentum threw Buffy off the ride and face first into a refrigerator case. She got to her feet, picked up what was left of a prancing goat figure with two huge twisted horns and staggered after Sunday, who was limping away as fast as she could. Buffy caught her and slammed the goat on top of Sunday’s head over and over until Sunday fell to the floor.

Buffy broke off one of the goat’s twisted horns. “I think you'll find your mistake was touching my Mate!” She shoved the horn through Sunday’s chest and jumped back as Sunday blasted into ashes.

***

Spike carried the woman out of the burning store. Once out of the smoke and steam, he recognized Lydia, the Watcher girl who’d visited him earlier. He handed her off to Buffy’s red-headed girlfriend. He started after Buffy, but someone grabbed his arm, spun him around, and sent him crashing to the floor.

“What’s your hurry, Candyass?”

It was Cleotus, accompanied by several members of Spike’s former gang. Cleotus was holding his favorite weapon, a Louisville Slugger.

“Hey! You!” Spike sprang up and pointed to Tucker. “Get over here and help me with this big poufter.” Spike did not relish taking on Cleotus again by himself without a sip of Slayer blood to boost his strength.

“I don’t work for you anymore,” Tucker said. “I’m like with Cleotus now. He’s way tougher than you anyway.”

“Bugger,” Spike said. While Cleotus was giving Spike’s former minions a smirk of satisfaction, Spike took the opportunity to slug him in the face.

Cleotus barely flinched.

Spike slugged him again.

Cleotus stood with his hands at his sides and allowed Spike to punch him a few more times. “Not the same without a pint of Slayer juice in your tank, is it, Pansy?”

Spike kicked Cleotus in the head.

Spike and Cleotus danced about a bit, each waiting to see who would make the next move. Cleotus outweighed Spike by a good two stone and all of it muscle and meanness. Spike figured his best chance would be to out dance him - keep moving and not try to out fight him.

Cleotus wasn’t willing to wait for Spike to tire him out so he sprang forward and swatted Spike over the head with his wooden bat.

Spike fell to his knees, his head spinning, and attacked Cleotus’ legs with his fangs. Cleotus roared with pain and beat Spike on the back. When he tired of beating Spike, he flung away his bat and jerked Spike to his feet by the throat. Spike’s fangs ripped a huge chunk of muscle out of his leg. He worked Spike over with one train wreck slug to his gut after another while he crushed Spike’s throat with his huge hand.

Cleotus’ arms were so long, Spike couldn’t reach him to punch back. Spike got in a few kicks and ground his boot into Cleotus’ leg where he’d torn out the muscle. Cleotus never flinched.

Spike spotted Buffy playing around with a large wooden goat, then Sunday bursting into dust. “I could use some help here, Slayer,” Spike wheezed out between blows.

Buffy tossed down the remains of the wooden carnival goat horn and looked around for her patrol bag. Her bag, with all her weapons, had disappeared in the scuffle and the goat’s horn she’d used to dust Sunday was destroyed. She darted around the Food Court, searching for a weapon that could kill Cleotus.

She saw Giles, but no useful weapons.

“Giles. Grab Spike. Help him get away!”

Buffy stumbled over a huge electrical line, nearly as big as her arm. She picked up the cord to see where it was connected.

“I bloody well will not help him. You’re supposed to be killing him.”

“The claim, Giles! If Spike gets killed, so will I.” She jerked hard on the cord and tore one end loose from the Wave Swinger that it had been powering. Electrical sparks showered from the torn end. She dragged the snapping wire towards Spike and Cleotus.

“My Lord!” Giles grabbed Spike by the collar of his coat and yanked. Cleotus only grinned and choked Spike harder.

“Lighter. Left pocket.” Spike croaked. His fingers scrabbled to peel Cleotus’s hand away from his throat.

“Lighter? Oh, lighter! Right.” Giles patted Spike’s coat and pants. No lighter. Giles waved his cross in Cleotus’ face. “Release Spike and back away, Evil Dead.”

Cleotus laughed.

Xander watched with enthusiasm while Spike got beat up, until Anya poked him in the ribs.

“We have to help him, Xander. If Spike dies, so will Buffy,” she said.

“What! Oh!” Xander looked around frantically. What could he use to stop a vampire twice as big as Spike and every bit as mean?

Anya reached into his shirt pocket and whipped out the lighter he’d acquired as part of his bartender’s outfit. “Here Giles, use this!” She tossed the lighter to Giles.

Giles flicked the lighter and waved it around looking for a place to set Cleotus on fire. When Cleotus’ leather jacket only smoldered, Giles settled for waving the flame in Cleotus’ face until he loosened his grip on Spike’s throat.

Spike kicked Cleotus in the crotch just as he was loosening his grip. When Cleotus released Spike’s throat, there was no longer anything holding Spike up and he collapsed onto the floor.

Cleotus jumped back to avoid the lighter’s flame. While Cleotus had been thrashing Spike and avoiding flamey death, he lost track of the Slayer. His head whipped back and forth as he searched for her.

Buffy jabbed him in the back with the sparking end of the electrical cable.

He screamed as thousands of volts of blue electricity crackled through his body. As he dusted, he spewed out a gush of liquid blood along with his dust and bones and teeth. His demonic tattoos peeled off his skin and hung in the air and burst into silver and orange flames.

“Make mine extra crispy,” Buffy said.

Spike held his hand out to Giles, who reluctantly helped him up. “Thanks, Dad. I was getting a bit worried. Say, what would the Council think about you saving William the Bloody’s hide, eh?”

“Don’t you dare call me Dad, you blighter. Buffy’s divorcing you at midnight when the claim runs. Which is in precisely,” Giles looked at his watch. “Seven minutes.”

Buffy sent Xander to secure the electrical cable. The crowd had disappeared and the sprinklers had doused the fire from the lingerie store, leaving puddles of blackened water on the floor and the air full of smoke. She walked up to Spike and wiped a greasy smudge from his face.

“It’s almost time,” Spike said. He cupped her face in his hand. “I’m gonna miss you, Slayer.”

“Midnight and I turn into a divorcee. Kinda sucks,” Buffy said. She looked around. Everyone she cared about was here tonight – her Mom, Giles, Willow, Xander and Anya. It was important at a time like this to have your loved ones with you. Also, there were people that she didn’t know from Adam. That woman in the grey suit, for instance.

Giles gave up trying to wipe the soot from his glasses and tucked them in his shirt pocket. “Buffy, I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” she said. “I said I’d do whatever is necessary and I will.”

Giles squinted at his Slayer. Something about the way she said that she’d do ‘whatever was necessary’ didn’t seem exactly right to him. “Yes. Once the claim is over, you will kill Spike.”

“Hey! Standing right here,” Spike said. He pulled Buffy aside. “You told your Watcher you’re going to kill me?”

Buffy put her arms around his neck. “Sure. Once the claim’s over.”

“She won’t have to.”

Buffy and Spike looked up. They were surrounded by three members of the Council’s hit team, each holding a crossbow armed with vampire-lethal wooden quarrels.


***

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

(In a Different Hand) Watcher’s Council, Thrusk Street, London, April 4, 1901 – On April 2, 1901, due to the immense strain placed upon his health by the burden of his duties, Sir Arthur Gosnard-Tisklin resigned his position as Watcher to Lady Victorine Chesler to take a long rest in the country. In view of the circumstances, the usual ceremonies have been postponed, indefinitely.

Lady Chesler disappeared on March 20, and is believed to have fled to the Continent with her paramour, Lord Teansdale, where they married privately. They were tracked as far as the Cote de Azur, then vanished. In view of the continued absence of Lady Chesler, a new Slayer will be called.

Mrs. Blodeuwedd Ronwen Giles nee′ Cadwallader, Watcher
Her Majesty’s Watcher’s Council

 
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