Banner by dawnofme

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and write for fun - not profit!


A/N Betas Carol and dawnofme :)
Chapter Twenty



What Trouble?


Buffy and Xander slipped quietly out of the old mansion and headed to the cemeteries nearer to the centre of Sunnydale. Their mission was to catch a vampire or demon, and see if the underworld had heard anything about The Initiative over the past few days.


“I don’t believe this,” said Buffy in exasperation.


“I can’t help it, when a guy’s gotta go…” said Xander walking out of sight behind a large mausoleum.


“Just keep your eyes peeled. If something grabs you while you’re holding…er…not ready, I’m not gonna help!” said Buffy.


“That’s a little harsh, Buff,” joked Xander, sighing with relief as he peed against the stone wall.


“Buffy?” A voice came from behind her.


She whirled around, stake at the ready.


“Hey! Go easy.” The figure held his hands up.


“Graham! Hey,” said Buffy, recognising The Initiative soldier. She didn’t know his partner.


She took it as a good sign that neither man had weapons drawn.


“Haven’t seen you around for a bit,” said Graham.


“Er…no, been a bit busy lately, you know, with the slayage,” she replied.


“So you haven’t heard then?”


“Heard what?” asked Xander as he reappeared.


“Oh, hi, Xander. About the trouble we’ve had?


Buffy and Xander did their best to look like they didn’t have a clue.


“What trouble?” said Buffy with as much innocence as she could muster.


“Remember that vampire, Number Seventeen?”


They nodded.


“Well, the other night it went berserk, broke restraints and attacked Maggie’s assistant Michael. It chopped the poor guy’s hand clean off before he managed to stake it.”


“God, that’s awful. So Number Seventeen is dead then?” said Buffy.


“Yeah, the Professor’s furious about it. She’d put so much work into it. She blames herself for Michael working on it alone that night,” replied Graham.


“Maggie? She’s not d…, I mean, so what’s she doing now?” said Buffy in amazement. How had she survived?


“Like I said she’s royally pissed at losing Number Seventeen, but she’s pleased with how Michael’s new hand has taken.”


“New hand?” croaked Xander.


“Yeah, it’s a prototype really, but Michael wanted to try it. It’s metal and works just as his real hand did. I’ve seen it; it’s unbelievable,” continued Graham. “So when are you next in? Still waiting for a rematch, you know? Can’t whup a guy’s ass and not give him the chance to claw back a bit of pride,” he joked, referring to the training sessions they shared a few months previous.


“Um, not sure. Maggie usually gives me a call when she needs me. Well, we’d better be going, Graham. Nice to see you and a rematch would only compound your dented pride.” Buffy smiled at him, then got hold of Xander’s arm and led him away.


“What the hell was he going on about?” asked Xander once they were out of earshot.


“It seems that we were a little premature in writing off Maggie Walsh. It’s not like any of us stopped and checked for a pulse or anything. Crap!” Buffy replied.


“What does that mean for us?”


“I’m not sure. Let’s get back to the others. One good thing is that the troops aren’t looking for Spike if they think he’s dust.”


Oooooo


Spike sat on the floor wishing he had a watch. It seemed like Buffy had been gone for hours but he knew it couldn’t be that long. He hated being apart from her. He could hear the others talking quietly in the next room, courtesy of his enhanced hearing. He soon zoned out as nothing of any importance was being said.


He’d finished off the rest of the blood and was pleased to feel that his ‘hunger’ had finally been totally appeased. From now on, as long as he got about six bags a day, he’d be as strong as he could be. He hadn’t felt this powerful since he’d fed on the Slayer in China. There was trouble ahead - big trouble - of that he was certain, and he intended to be as ready for it as he could be.


He closed his eyes and, despite his worry for Buffy, he fell asleep. Almost immediately he was dreaming. This time he didn’t wake up as Michael cut into his shoulder. This time he watched in horror as his arm was removed and just thrown into a bin marked ‘clinical waste’; which in The Initiative was merely a euphemism for ‘demon food’.


The dream jumped forward and he was being wheeled away from the operating theatre. He looked at his left arm - it had been replaced with one from a Polgara demon, like Adam’s. He now had an arm with a built in bone skewer weapon.


He jerked awake, scream caught in his throat and unnecessary breaths coming in ragged gasps.


“Oh God,” he said.


He couldn’t help but look fearfully at his left arm. It was his; it was normal.


“It’s a dream is all. Even got the wrong arm,” he said to himself.


He touched the site of Michael’s real incision on his right shoulder. It was healed, just a small pinkish raised scar remained and soon, that too would be gone. He’d just got his breathing back under control when he heard Buffy and Xander walk in.


“Buffy.” Her scent reaching him as soon as the door opened.


He waited for her to come around to see him but she didn’t. She just started telling the others what she’d learned that night from the soldier called Graham. He heard every word.


“What?” he whispered.


He leapt to his feet, had he heard that right? He started to shake uncontrollably.


“Fuck, no!”


He slid down the wall and sat huddled up, knees to his chest.


“What does that mean?” he muttered. “Oh bollocks, I can’t do this.”


He closed his eyes and sat there slightly rocking to and fro.


“Spike?”


He started as Buffy touched his arm, so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t registered her approach.


“Huh? Buffy, um…you got your info then?” he said.


“Yeah. You heard it all?” asked Buffy, looking at him with concern.


“I heard it, pet. Would have been nice to have been part of the discussion,” said Spike, a hint of bitterness in his tone.


“Hey, what’s with the attitude?” said Buffy, reaching for his hand. He snatched it away and stood up.


“Spike, what's wrong with you? Why are you being like this?”


He turned to look at her and she saw vulnerability, need, and insecurity - things that she wasn’t used to reading in his eyes.


“Those Initiative bastards!” she thought in fury.


“Hey, Spike,” she said softly. “It’ll be better tomorrow when we can get you out of these damn chains. Can I have a hug now please? I need you, Spike.”


He looked deep into her eyes before he took her in his arms. He held her close to him, not wanting to let her go, savouring her warmth against him. He kissed the mark on her neck where he’d bitten her earlier. It was already closed and healing. Soon they were kissing passionately, his doubts about her feelings for him fading as they kissed. When they parted, they sat down together.


“So how are you feeling?” asked Buffy, noticing the knapsack was empty of blood.


“I’m fine, pet; better than ever,” he said. “Thanks to you, love. Getting human blood meant I could sate the demon a bit quicker.”


“That’s good. So how much do you need on a daily basis then? Obviously more than three.”


“Yeah, double that and you’ll have a strong vampire watching your back, Slayer. Will be as powerful as I can be.” He gave her a bit of a grin.


She knew something else was bothering him though.


“Spike?”


“Mm?”


“When I came in you were all… well, you looked scared and jumpy. What’s the deal?”


“Nothing. I’m OK.”


She gave him a ‘look’.


“It’s all right; just was a dream is all.”


“Like the last one?” asked Buffy.


“Yeah, just the same, Pet,” he lied. “So tell me again what that bloke said about The Initiative?”


Buffy told him all she’d learnt from Graham.


“I can’t believe that bitch isn’t dead,” said Spike. “But it’s OK ‘cause I wanted to off her myself.”


“Get in line - she’s mine. No one screws around with my boyfriend and gets away with it.”


She didn’t miss how he smiled and looked down almost shyly when she’d said ‘boyfriend’.


“And, according to Graham, that horrid Michael has had some sort of metal hand thingy attached. Works as good as new,” she continued.


“Sodding hell, I did hear right. The bastard had a metal hand in my dream. How did I know that? What if it’s not a dream? That’s why it wasn’t my right arm.”


He started to shake again.


“Hey, it’s OK. He’s not going to hurt you again. It’s just a dream,” soothed Buffy, not knowing the details of his latest one.


“Come on, Spike, get a grip,” he thought.


“Yeah, I know, but things are pretty messed up in here.” He tapped his index finger against his left temple. “Just feels so bleeding real still. I was happier when I thought the git couldn’t operate, I suppose.”


“Right,” said Buffy, unconvinced. She could read Spike like a book. He wasn’t telling her something, but she let it go, for now.


To be continued…