Bewitched, Chapter 19
Aug. 8th, 2009 05:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thismazTitle: Bewitched, Chapter 19
Pairing: S/X. I promise it will get back there... eventually.
Rating: This chapter PG-13
Summary: Valentine's Day arrived and Dru dipped her finger in the brew, giving it a stir.
Word Count: 2,885
Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparrow2000 and DJ, for which, many thanks. Thanks also to Sparrow for conflabbing on plot twists and forms and particularly for your help with this chapter, which really didn't want to co-operate.
Comments: Are greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Disclaimer: here.
Prologue here, with a link to the other chapters, or you can find the whole thing, in reverse order, in tags, or in the correct order, in memories. There's a menu of links on the right hand side of my main journal page.
Many thanks tomwrgana for the beautiful banner.
Chapter 19
Spike sat back against the cave wall, pulled his right foot up onto the rock shelf in front of him, while his other leg dangled over the edge, and lit a fag. The last three weeks had been a mixed bag.
The large gang of incompetents he'd inherited from the weak-willed but well-read poser who'd called herself 'Midnight', had proved as useless as he'd expected after meeting the first two at Willy's, and he'd soon whittled them down to a more manageable six. He'd kept only the biggest two for their proven ability to dig, the ex-mining engineer, Alan, to explain the plans Midnight had drawn up, and another three as general dogsbodies.
Once the dust had cleared and he'd put a proper shift system in place, the operation went forward at a reasonable pace and in three weeks they'd covered more distance than Midnight had managed in six. Taking a long drag, he studied his labourers at their work, assessing their continued devotion to their duty.
The bull and the bear, as he named them, reflecting their respective natures (a joke for his own amusement, since he doubted they'd heard of the stock market) were putting their backs into it - shovelling earth into wheelbarrows and clearing away rocks to create a level floor for the scaffolding they'd need when they started drilling upwards. Spike had visited the catacombs in Rome, once, long ago, and this tunnel, and the cave they'd created at the end of it, reminded him of those passages, although these were not so high.
The three unwise monkeys were taking the larger rocks and boulders from the other two and stacking them against the far wall. They were a crafty trio, a useful trait in servants as long as they were pointed in the right direction, and they'd turned out to be good hunters. They followed directions well and didn't get carried away by the wildness that was so often the downfall of untutored fledges. Between them they'd kept the larder stocked and Andi, in particular, had the makings of a useful Lieutenant. She ensured that the other two behaved, with a few well-placed kicks, and she'd proven very successful in seducing reckless young men away from their friends.
Alan looked up from the plans he was studying and caught Spike's eye. "Another two feet and then it's straight up, boss," he said.
Spike roused himself from his musings. "It's definitely the crypt, right? I'm not keen on tunnelling into someone's septic tank."
Alan shuffled his feet. And that, there, was the reason he'd never be a leader. "Yes, it's the crypt. The radar soundings are clear. The sides are thick and reinforced, but the floor's thinner, like the books said. It can't be anything else."
Spike was all too aware that it could be anything else, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He waved Alan back to work and took another drag on his smoke. Midnight had spent years researching the legends surrounding the Gem of Amara, but that didn't mean she'd got it right. There were stories galore of vampires who believed they'd found its resting place, only to fall into some sort of trap or recklessly rush out into the sun to discover their new bauble was nothing more than a fancy piece of jewellery. Spike had seen Midnight's notes, though, and he was inclined to believe that Sunnydale might be the same Valley of the Sun that the legends referred to. He'd know soon enough.
Taken together, the treasure hunt seemed to be going well. That was the good bit of the mixed bag.
Less good was his continued failure to find out anything more about Xander. The boy's parents were useless. Not only were the curtains in Xander's room permanently drawn tight, so he couldn't see anything inside, but not once, in all the times he stationed himself behind the dead pot palm on their veranda, had he overheard them mention the boy. Although, since they barely spoke to each other that shouldn't have been a surprise. After a week of lurking, he'd decided that he'd have to wait until he could catch one of them outside and ask a few direct questions. (Politely, of course; Xander probably wouldn't take kindly to Spike killing his parents. Spike could understand that; he'd be annoyed if someone offed Dru.) The problem was that once they settled in for the night, they never seemed to stir.
The Slayer hadn't proved to be any help, either. Her patrols were intermittent, cursory and, more importantly, solitary, which meant no conversation for Spike to eavesdrop on. In frustration one night he had climbed up to her open bedroom window, where he'd made the very interesting discovery that his invite, from when he negotiated the destruction of Acathla and the downfall of Angelus, had never been revoked. He broke in and searched her drawers and wardrobe for postcards, letters or any other clue, while the scourge of demons and other mischief makers snored undisturbed, three feet away. He could have taken her easily, but it would have been like shooting fish in a barrel, so he'd limited himself to stealing some very attractive weapons and the odd item of clothing. Back in his tunnels, when he settled down to sleep, he enjoyed an admittedly childish glee, imagining her frantic searches for the things she'd lost.
Spike took a last drag on his cigarette and held the stub up in front of his face, studying it, without really seeing it. The hunt for the gem had taken priority over everything else, especially since the previous Tuesday, when he went to the Slayer's house and found her gone and the room full of packing crates. Sitting astride the window sill, with one foot still on the roof outside, he'd cursed himself for forgetting the date; her diary during the previous week had been full of teen angst about her move up to the university campus. Ransacking the room, on principle, he'd once again found nothing. She'd even taken her older diaries with her.
Allowing the cigarette butt to topple from his fingers, Spike watched it hit the floor of the cave and roll for a few inches. Trying to locate one person in the crowd of students on campus was impractical and it wasn't really her he was looking for. Even if he found her, the chances that she'd let fall anything about where Xander was... No, he was right - first get the gem, then find the boy.
Midnight had already dug half the distance to the target before Spike arrived. From its starting point in the caves under the destroyed school, to the crypt next to the Chapel of Rest and the caretaker's house, the tunnel was just under half a mile long. The ground was hard clay and loose rock, easy to clear and requiring very little in the way of support, as long as it didn't rain. Progress had been smooth and steady. And finally, after three weeks of hard work, they were there.
Spike lifted his left foot and ground out the still smouldering butt. Since they'd reached the crypt's outer wall, he'd ordered a lock down, allowing only Andi out to fetch food, and after four uninterrupted days with his 'gang', as Alan called them, he was just about ready to tear the heads off the lot of them. But since they were still needed for their muscle, he decided that, instead, he'd go and do the supply run, himself.
The campus had been a good hunting ground in the past and initially he thought it was good luck that led him to the house with the huge invitation to a party strung across its front. Later, he'd curse himself for not considering the way freshers' week stretched into freshers' month, but that was later.
He slipped inside and scouted out the internal layout, while scanning the crowd for the kid who was standing alone by a wall. There was always at least one and they were generally easy marks. Spotting a girl with the air of a perpetual wall flower, he grabbed an abandoned drink and made his way over to her. A bit of charm and a few compliments soon had her going with him, willingly, in search of the punch bowl he told her was laid out in the kitchen. As they passed the utility room door, he crowded her inside.
Fifteen minutes later he was back at the party looking for his second mark; the one he'd take home for the others. Again, luck seemed to be with him as he paused in the doorway to the common room and a lovers' tiff played out, right in front of him. A hissed exchange of reproach and disingenuous innocence was followed by the bigger lad watching forlornly as his boyfriend marched off with another man.
The jilted lover was already somewhat drunk and inclined to be obnoxious with it, but it didn't take Spike long to persuade him that there were plenty of other fish left in the sea. A kiss, a bite under the pretence of necking, and Spike had a friend in need of an escort home.
That was where his luck turned. They'd almost made it out when they ran slap-bang into the Slayer.
She was just coming in through the front door, nestled snugly under the arm of a callow youth with a calculating eye. Since none of them were looking where they were going she almost knocked Spike and his prey over.
"Spike?" she gasped.
'Damn!' he thought, but he didn't let his discomfort show. "Hello Buffy. Fancy meeting you here. This the new boy?" he drawled, making a show of looking her escort up and down and sketching a sneer to demonstrate his opinion. "Now ain't this interesting? Almost like a double date."
The boy child at her side pulled himself up to his full, gangling height. Had to give it to him, he did his best to sneer right back. "That's your date?" he asked. "He looks like he started the party a little early, huh? I'm Parker."
"'Course you are," Spike agreed. He turned to the Slayer. "I like him. He's got... what's the word? Vulnerability."
She positively snarled, "And you haven't changed. Put that guy down. Now!"
Throughout the exchange, Spike was reviewing his options. He hitched his lost supper upright, as if he was going to refuse the Slayer's order and as soon as he saw her eyes narrow in response to that, he threw the limp body at them both, using the push to provide him with the impetus to spring over the back of the couch on his left. As he ran towards the large window and gathered himself for a curling leap that would take him through, he heard her urgently order someone to, "Stay here!" The rest was lost amid the shattering of glass and the general hubbub of startled party goers.
He landed on the lawn and rolled to his feet. Running was the sensible option, but now she knew he was in town and he was torn between that and standing to fight. All those nights when she'd slept, innocent of his presence, had fuelled in him a desire to see what a dance with her would be like. He stopped behind a large bush by the front path and when she came tearing out of the house at her usual reckless pace, he swung out his arm and backhanded her across the face. She didn't go down, but she did come to a very satisfying stop, giving him time to gather himself into a defensive stance.
She recovered quickly, throwing a punch to his head, which he dodged. "What's the matter Spike?" she gasped. "Dru dump you again?"
She threw another punch, which he blocked against his upraised forearm, and then he went on the attack. "Maybe I left her," he replied, pleased that his voice was steady, even if that was because he didn't need oxygen to energise his muscles. It was an undervalued psychological advantage in any fight with an air-breather.
She danced back from his first punch and he saw the telltale shift of her feet that signalled an imminent kick attack. Drawing back a pace, he spared a moment to scan the area, but she fooled him. Instead of using her right foot in a kick, she slammed it down on the ground and launched herself forward, punching him in the neck. He went with the blow, rolling to the ground and continuing, heels and arse over head, back onto his feet. He took another step back, to centre himself, and she sprang after him. He blocked her first blow, dodged under the second and replied with a punch to her midriff. She doubled over with an "Umph!" but it didn't slow her down. Within a second she was on the attack again and the dance sped up.
They'd moved away from the area of the front door, to where the footpath ran next to an extension of the house and he took a kick in his side that sent him staggering face first into the wall. He pushed himself away from it and turned, just as she brought up her hand. His face collided with her fist. He reeled away and dodged back a few paces. She paused to catch her breath.
She was better than he'd expected, better than either of his other two slayers and he was beginning to regret the pride that had tempted him into taking her on, before he had the gem. Female laughter behind him gave him an idea. He feinted with his right and followed up with his left fist into her side. Instead of closing, as she obviously expected, he backed away again, towards the corner of the building, slipping his left hand inside his coat and drawing his knife from its sheath in the small of his back, as he did so.
When a pair of girls in their party frocks rounded the corner, he was ready. He pushed the nearest one away, sending her stumbling over her high heels in the grass, while he caught the second around the chest, bringing the blade of his knife up under her chin. "Back off," he snarled.
The Slayer froze. The girl in his arms froze too, emitting a faint whimper but offering no resistance.
"Let her go, Spike," the Slayer ordered.
Crowds were piling out of the house behind her and he knew that he had to act fast, or he'd be trapped by them. He began to pull his hostage backwards along the path. The Slayer advanced to match, narrowing the distance slightly with each step. He took a quick look over his shoulder, using the movement to shift his knife hand, so the blade was resting along the side of the girl's neck and the heel of his hand against her shoulder blade. One more step and he was clear of the crowd, who had instinctively gathered around the Slayer, impeding her freedom to move against him. With a grin, he twisted his knife blade up towards the girl's ear, at the same time releasing his hold on her chest and giving her shoulder a hard shove. As she stumbled forwards, her scream was initially one of shock, but it turned to one of pain, when the slice to her neck registered on her brain. She landed in the Slayer's arms, bleeding in a very satisfactory manner, and Spike turned and ran, knowing that the Slayer would be occupied in staunching the wound and he'd be gone by the time she was free to follow.
He went to the docks and found a couple of foreign sailors, instead. They were drunk and easy prey, big enough to keep him and one other going for at least a week. By that time, he should have his gem.
It was an hour shy of dawn when he re-entered the tunnel, a sailor over each shoulder. They were beginning to regain consciousness, so he handed them over to the bull, who could be trusted to obey orders to the letter, if only because he lacked the imagination to do anything else. Not really a keeper, that one; the bear would be less cheerfully irritating.
He was making his way to the dig face when he had the sudden thought that finding out where the Slayer and the Red Witch lived on campus would be easy, if he broke into the accommodation office. They were sure to have records of who lived where. Once he knew that, he could both spy on them for news of Xander and avoid the Slayer's patrols. And with the gem in his possession he could do the spying at the times she would least expect.
Inspecting the progress his worker bees had made in his absence, he thought about supplies and how long they'd last. End of this shift, he decided, once they'd moved a few more feet of earth and got the scaffolding up. Tucking his hand in his pocket, he closed his fingers around his stake.
Note: Sorry, I know I promised that Xander and Spike would meet up again, this week, but this bit turned out to be longer than I expected.
Next Chapter
Pairing: S/X. I promise it will get back there... eventually.
Rating: This chapter PG-13
Summary: Valentine's Day arrived and Dru dipped her finger in the brew, giving it a stir.
Word Count: 2,885
Betaed by
sparrow2000 and DJ, for which, many thanks. Thanks also to Sparrow for conflabbing on plot twists and forms and particularly for your help with this chapter, which really didn't want to co-operate.Comments: Are greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Disclaimer: here.
Prologue here, with a link to the other chapters, or you can find the whole thing, in reverse order, in tags, or in the correct order, in memories. There's a menu of links on the right hand side of my main journal page.
Many thanks to
mwrgana for the beautiful banner.Chapter 19
Spike sat back against the cave wall, pulled his right foot up onto the rock shelf in front of him, while his other leg dangled over the edge, and lit a fag. The last three weeks had been a mixed bag.
The large gang of incompetents he'd inherited from the weak-willed but well-read poser who'd called herself 'Midnight', had proved as useless as he'd expected after meeting the first two at Willy's, and he'd soon whittled them down to a more manageable six. He'd kept only the biggest two for their proven ability to dig, the ex-mining engineer, Alan, to explain the plans Midnight had drawn up, and another three as general dogsbodies.
Once the dust had cleared and he'd put a proper shift system in place, the operation went forward at a reasonable pace and in three weeks they'd covered more distance than Midnight had managed in six. Taking a long drag, he studied his labourers at their work, assessing their continued devotion to their duty.
The bull and the bear, as he named them, reflecting their respective natures (a joke for his own amusement, since he doubted they'd heard of the stock market) were putting their backs into it - shovelling earth into wheelbarrows and clearing away rocks to create a level floor for the scaffolding they'd need when they started drilling upwards. Spike had visited the catacombs in Rome, once, long ago, and this tunnel, and the cave they'd created at the end of it, reminded him of those passages, although these were not so high.
The three unwise monkeys were taking the larger rocks and boulders from the other two and stacking them against the far wall. They were a crafty trio, a useful trait in servants as long as they were pointed in the right direction, and they'd turned out to be good hunters. They followed directions well and didn't get carried away by the wildness that was so often the downfall of untutored fledges. Between them they'd kept the larder stocked and Andi, in particular, had the makings of a useful Lieutenant. She ensured that the other two behaved, with a few well-placed kicks, and she'd proven very successful in seducing reckless young men away from their friends.
Alan looked up from the plans he was studying and caught Spike's eye. "Another two feet and then it's straight up, boss," he said.
Spike roused himself from his musings. "It's definitely the crypt, right? I'm not keen on tunnelling into someone's septic tank."
Alan shuffled his feet. And that, there, was the reason he'd never be a leader. "Yes, it's the crypt. The radar soundings are clear. The sides are thick and reinforced, but the floor's thinner, like the books said. It can't be anything else."
Spike was all too aware that it could be anything else, but he kept his thoughts to himself. He waved Alan back to work and took another drag on his smoke. Midnight had spent years researching the legends surrounding the Gem of Amara, but that didn't mean she'd got it right. There were stories galore of vampires who believed they'd found its resting place, only to fall into some sort of trap or recklessly rush out into the sun to discover their new bauble was nothing more than a fancy piece of jewellery. Spike had seen Midnight's notes, though, and he was inclined to believe that Sunnydale might be the same Valley of the Sun that the legends referred to. He'd know soon enough.
Taken together, the treasure hunt seemed to be going well. That was the good bit of the mixed bag.
Less good was his continued failure to find out anything more about Xander. The boy's parents were useless. Not only were the curtains in Xander's room permanently drawn tight, so he couldn't see anything inside, but not once, in all the times he stationed himself behind the dead pot palm on their veranda, had he overheard them mention the boy. Although, since they barely spoke to each other that shouldn't have been a surprise. After a week of lurking, he'd decided that he'd have to wait until he could catch one of them outside and ask a few direct questions. (Politely, of course; Xander probably wouldn't take kindly to Spike killing his parents. Spike could understand that; he'd be annoyed if someone offed Dru.) The problem was that once they settled in for the night, they never seemed to stir.
The Slayer hadn't proved to be any help, either. Her patrols were intermittent, cursory and, more importantly, solitary, which meant no conversation for Spike to eavesdrop on. In frustration one night he had climbed up to her open bedroom window, where he'd made the very interesting discovery that his invite, from when he negotiated the destruction of Acathla and the downfall of Angelus, had never been revoked. He broke in and searched her drawers and wardrobe for postcards, letters or any other clue, while the scourge of demons and other mischief makers snored undisturbed, three feet away. He could have taken her easily, but it would have been like shooting fish in a barrel, so he'd limited himself to stealing some very attractive weapons and the odd item of clothing. Back in his tunnels, when he settled down to sleep, he enjoyed an admittedly childish glee, imagining her frantic searches for the things she'd lost.
Spike took a last drag on his cigarette and held the stub up in front of his face, studying it, without really seeing it. The hunt for the gem had taken priority over everything else, especially since the previous Tuesday, when he went to the Slayer's house and found her gone and the room full of packing crates. Sitting astride the window sill, with one foot still on the roof outside, he'd cursed himself for forgetting the date; her diary during the previous week had been full of teen angst about her move up to the university campus. Ransacking the room, on principle, he'd once again found nothing. She'd even taken her older diaries with her.
Allowing the cigarette butt to topple from his fingers, Spike watched it hit the floor of the cave and roll for a few inches. Trying to locate one person in the crowd of students on campus was impractical and it wasn't really her he was looking for. Even if he found her, the chances that she'd let fall anything about where Xander was... No, he was right - first get the gem, then find the boy.
Midnight had already dug half the distance to the target before Spike arrived. From its starting point in the caves under the destroyed school, to the crypt next to the Chapel of Rest and the caretaker's house, the tunnel was just under half a mile long. The ground was hard clay and loose rock, easy to clear and requiring very little in the way of support, as long as it didn't rain. Progress had been smooth and steady. And finally, after three weeks of hard work, they were there.
Spike lifted his left foot and ground out the still smouldering butt. Since they'd reached the crypt's outer wall, he'd ordered a lock down, allowing only Andi out to fetch food, and after four uninterrupted days with his 'gang', as Alan called them, he was just about ready to tear the heads off the lot of them. But since they were still needed for their muscle, he decided that, instead, he'd go and do the supply run, himself.
The campus had been a good hunting ground in the past and initially he thought it was good luck that led him to the house with the huge invitation to a party strung across its front. Later, he'd curse himself for not considering the way freshers' week stretched into freshers' month, but that was later.
He slipped inside and scouted out the internal layout, while scanning the crowd for the kid who was standing alone by a wall. There was always at least one and they were generally easy marks. Spotting a girl with the air of a perpetual wall flower, he grabbed an abandoned drink and made his way over to her. A bit of charm and a few compliments soon had her going with him, willingly, in search of the punch bowl he told her was laid out in the kitchen. As they passed the utility room door, he crowded her inside.
Fifteen minutes later he was back at the party looking for his second mark; the one he'd take home for the others. Again, luck seemed to be with him as he paused in the doorway to the common room and a lovers' tiff played out, right in front of him. A hissed exchange of reproach and disingenuous innocence was followed by the bigger lad watching forlornly as his boyfriend marched off with another man.
The jilted lover was already somewhat drunk and inclined to be obnoxious with it, but it didn't take Spike long to persuade him that there were plenty of other fish left in the sea. A kiss, a bite under the pretence of necking, and Spike had a friend in need of an escort home.
That was where his luck turned. They'd almost made it out when they ran slap-bang into the Slayer.
She was just coming in through the front door, nestled snugly under the arm of a callow youth with a calculating eye. Since none of them were looking where they were going she almost knocked Spike and his prey over.
"Spike?" she gasped.
'Damn!' he thought, but he didn't let his discomfort show. "Hello Buffy. Fancy meeting you here. This the new boy?" he drawled, making a show of looking her escort up and down and sketching a sneer to demonstrate his opinion. "Now ain't this interesting? Almost like a double date."
The boy child at her side pulled himself up to his full, gangling height. Had to give it to him, he did his best to sneer right back. "That's your date?" he asked. "He looks like he started the party a little early, huh? I'm Parker."
"'Course you are," Spike agreed. He turned to the Slayer. "I like him. He's got... what's the word? Vulnerability."
She positively snarled, "And you haven't changed. Put that guy down. Now!"
Throughout the exchange, Spike was reviewing his options. He hitched his lost supper upright, as if he was going to refuse the Slayer's order and as soon as he saw her eyes narrow in response to that, he threw the limp body at them both, using the push to provide him with the impetus to spring over the back of the couch on his left. As he ran towards the large window and gathered himself for a curling leap that would take him through, he heard her urgently order someone to, "Stay here!" The rest was lost amid the shattering of glass and the general hubbub of startled party goers.
He landed on the lawn and rolled to his feet. Running was the sensible option, but now she knew he was in town and he was torn between that and standing to fight. All those nights when she'd slept, innocent of his presence, had fuelled in him a desire to see what a dance with her would be like. He stopped behind a large bush by the front path and when she came tearing out of the house at her usual reckless pace, he swung out his arm and backhanded her across the face. She didn't go down, but she did come to a very satisfying stop, giving him time to gather himself into a defensive stance.
She recovered quickly, throwing a punch to his head, which he dodged. "What's the matter Spike?" she gasped. "Dru dump you again?"
She threw another punch, which he blocked against his upraised forearm, and then he went on the attack. "Maybe I left her," he replied, pleased that his voice was steady, even if that was because he didn't need oxygen to energise his muscles. It was an undervalued psychological advantage in any fight with an air-breather.
She danced back from his first punch and he saw the telltale shift of her feet that signalled an imminent kick attack. Drawing back a pace, he spared a moment to scan the area, but she fooled him. Instead of using her right foot in a kick, she slammed it down on the ground and launched herself forward, punching him in the neck. He went with the blow, rolling to the ground and continuing, heels and arse over head, back onto his feet. He took another step back, to centre himself, and she sprang after him. He blocked her first blow, dodged under the second and replied with a punch to her midriff. She doubled over with an "Umph!" but it didn't slow her down. Within a second she was on the attack again and the dance sped up.
They'd moved away from the area of the front door, to where the footpath ran next to an extension of the house and he took a kick in his side that sent him staggering face first into the wall. He pushed himself away from it and turned, just as she brought up her hand. His face collided with her fist. He reeled away and dodged back a few paces. She paused to catch her breath.
She was better than he'd expected, better than either of his other two slayers and he was beginning to regret the pride that had tempted him into taking her on, before he had the gem. Female laughter behind him gave him an idea. He feinted with his right and followed up with his left fist into her side. Instead of closing, as she obviously expected, he backed away again, towards the corner of the building, slipping his left hand inside his coat and drawing his knife from its sheath in the small of his back, as he did so.
When a pair of girls in their party frocks rounded the corner, he was ready. He pushed the nearest one away, sending her stumbling over her high heels in the grass, while he caught the second around the chest, bringing the blade of his knife up under her chin. "Back off," he snarled.
The Slayer froze. The girl in his arms froze too, emitting a faint whimper but offering no resistance.
"Let her go, Spike," the Slayer ordered.
Crowds were piling out of the house behind her and he knew that he had to act fast, or he'd be trapped by them. He began to pull his hostage backwards along the path. The Slayer advanced to match, narrowing the distance slightly with each step. He took a quick look over his shoulder, using the movement to shift his knife hand, so the blade was resting along the side of the girl's neck and the heel of his hand against her shoulder blade. One more step and he was clear of the crowd, who had instinctively gathered around the Slayer, impeding her freedom to move against him. With a grin, he twisted his knife blade up towards the girl's ear, at the same time releasing his hold on her chest and giving her shoulder a hard shove. As she stumbled forwards, her scream was initially one of shock, but it turned to one of pain, when the slice to her neck registered on her brain. She landed in the Slayer's arms, bleeding in a very satisfactory manner, and Spike turned and ran, knowing that the Slayer would be occupied in staunching the wound and he'd be gone by the time she was free to follow.
He went to the docks and found a couple of foreign sailors, instead. They were drunk and easy prey, big enough to keep him and one other going for at least a week. By that time, he should have his gem.
It was an hour shy of dawn when he re-entered the tunnel, a sailor over each shoulder. They were beginning to regain consciousness, so he handed them over to the bull, who could be trusted to obey orders to the letter, if only because he lacked the imagination to do anything else. Not really a keeper, that one; the bear would be less cheerfully irritating.
He was making his way to the dig face when he had the sudden thought that finding out where the Slayer and the Red Witch lived on campus would be easy, if he broke into the accommodation office. They were sure to have records of who lived where. Once he knew that, he could both spy on them for news of Xander and avoid the Slayer's patrols. And with the gem in his possession he could do the spying at the times she would least expect.
Inspecting the progress his worker bees had made in his absence, he thought about supplies and how long they'd last. End of this shift, he decided, once they'd moved a few more feet of earth and got the scaffolding up. Tucking his hand in his pocket, he closed his fingers around his stake.
Note: Sorry, I know I promised that Xander and Spike would meet up again, this week, but this bit turned out to be longer than I expected.
Next Chapter
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-08-08 05:21 pm (UTC)Shakatany
no subject
Date: 2009-08-09 04:46 am (UTC)Thank you for reading and for commenting to let me know you are still enjoying.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-08 08:12 pm (UTC)So many little bits to enjoy - bull and bear - snerk! Spike thinking about the catacombs in Rome - I wonder where he got that thought *g*. The idea of Spike hiding behind a dead potted palm chez Harris made me crack up. Yay for the worker bees....*g*
And you gave me a fight - wow, the power I've got...you know it will just go to my head ;)
Great chapter, love. You've set things up beautifully.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-09 04:49 am (UTC)Speak to you later.
no subject
Date: 2009-08-08 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-09 04:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-08 09:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-09 04:52 am (UTC)Thank you. I'm so glad you are still enjoying it
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Date: 2009-08-08 11:51 pm (UTC)Still, Spike's plans have a habit of going bad so I can't wait to see what happens.
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Date: 2009-08-09 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-09 06:39 am (UTC)Just a couple of tiny typos:
but it would have been like shooting fish in a barrel, so he'd limited himself to stealing some
and
Crowds were piling out of the house behind her and he knew that
ifhe had to act fast, or he'd be trapped by them.and
InspectedInspecting the progress his worker bees had made in his absence,So they meet again next chapter, then? *begs*
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Date: 2009-08-09 09:59 am (UTC)*grins at you like a tease*
Oh, and thank you for those catches. After I while, I get blind to things, so I am grateful to you for pointing them out so, I can mend them. Mended now.
Yes, they will meet next chapter. If they keep playing coy, I might get impatient *g*
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Date: 2009-08-10 01:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-10 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-09 02:33 pm (UTC)Once again your pacing and balance are superb. I'm in this for the long haul.
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Date: 2009-08-09 04:24 pm (UTC)I think he would have been better talking to Joyce too. *g* Thankfully, for her, he didn't know that. I doubt he would have been nice to her, her being the mother of the Slayer.
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Date: 2009-08-09 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-10 04:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-10 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-10 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-14 06:06 pm (UTC)The frat house fight was vivid and entertaining, and you show how brutal and calculating Spike can be with that hostage situation. He underestimated Buffy this time around. here's hoping he's learned from his mistake.
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Date: 2009-08-17 08:15 am (UTC)It was interesting writing a fight between Spike and Buffy. I'd never done that before. It took me a while to realise that Buffy is actually better than him by this point. He's just more ruthless.
Thank you for your lovely comment.