Hell On Earth
by Jerri
Spike sat on top of the marble stone, elbow on knee and chin in palm. There was a lot to think about these days. He remembered the look on her face when he found her on the backporch, listening to the watcher berate the witch for her carelessness. He could still see the dark expression that crossed her face when her friend threatened the man who had raised her, kept her alive and bled for her. The witch didn't know what she was doing. The power had gone to her head, and if something didn't change, right quick, there would be Buffy to pay.
Willow, the one who was so fascinated by the dark powers, who learned magic over the objections of everyone around her, had paid service to being a Wiccan, but he'd always known better. The witch was out of control, drunk from the magic and the power, and sooner or later, someone was going to have to do something. He knew, when the time came, that he would kill the witch, regardless of the bleedin' chip, to prevent the slayer from having to do it.
Now, the money wasn't going to be a big problem for long. He thought that, under the circumstances, if he groveled the right way, broodboy would give him back control of his accounts. Demons knew that the great poof hadn't spent it. That would be luxury and the sodding soul wouldn't allow for any fun.
Still and all, there had to be a way to keep the girls going until he could come up with the dosh for them. His slayer and niblet would not do without. The first order of business was to contact a demon he knew. He would terrify the little beast into doing the plumbing work. That would relieve the worst of the situation, at least for now.
He looked up at the sky. Dawn was breaking. Time to get in out of the sun. He needed sleep, and maybe this time he wouldn't have to save Buffy in his dreams, since he was saving her for real.
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