"Any special thing I'm supposed to know or do when I see them?" She asked casually, relieved to hear that her voice wasn't quaking.
He nodded, his sly smile bright against the car's inky darkness, "you know that thing that you insist on doing whenever there're vampires around?"
"You mean Slaying?"
"Yeah that. Well don't," he said flatly.
"I seriously hate you," she told him dryly. His only reply was a bright smile.
He stopped the car a few minutes later. Buffy looked around noting the dark, bleak woods surrounding them. "This isn't gonna be one of those oops-I-ran-out-of-gas situations, is it?" She asked suspiciously.
He glared at her, "I'm not here to satisfy your fantasies, luv. Although," he looked her up and down suggestively, "when this is all over, who knows?"
A stake appeared as if by magic in her hand, "I'd love to see you try," she purred, her fingers caressing the stake lightly, seductively. "Then I might finally be able to stick this were it belongs."
His eyes narrowed, glinting sparks of repressed violence, "we walk a bit from here," he said roughly, turning brusquely to lead the way without waiting to see if she followed. She chuckled to herself then scrambled after the irritated vampire before he disappeared from her sight completely.
They walked in silence for several minutes, a nervousness building in Buffy's gut. She was a city girl at heart; concrete, cars and pollution made her feel at home. The unfamiliar woods seemed sinister, filled with strange sounds and a gaping darkness. Branches snagged at her clothes, jutting roots reached to trip her feet and once she thought she saw a pair of eyes glimmering in the forest's depth. She turned her head to look, but it was gone. A kind of panic began to claw at her and she found herself biting down on her lips to keep from screaming. She locked her eyes on Spike's back, his confident strides slightly reassuring her, and kept moving through the forest and through her fears.
He finally stopped at the edge of a clearing, she could see campfires pushing away the darkness just over Spike's shoulders, dark undecipherable figures sat huddled near those fires. He glanced down at himself and frowned. His tattered shirt clung to his body with mere will power and dried blood speckled the cloth. "This won't do," he muttered, discarding the offending material, leaving him standing half-naked in the dark.
Buffy took in his slender form, trying not to stare. His frame was lean and sleek, the body of an acrobat. His smooth pale chest seemed silken in the moonlight, muscles rippled as he moved holding promises of both power and tenderness. Light scratches marred his perfection across his back, in Buffy's eyes they were a lover's mark branding him to his sire.
With a confidence innate to his nature he stepped out into the clearing, immediately commanding the attention of all saw him. "Who goes there?" A harsh voice demanded. Buffy hung back, waiting to see how this would turn out.
"Use your eyes, you bloody twit!" Spike's annoyed response floated through the darkness.
"I said, who goes there," the voice rasped, a tell tale sign of words slithering through sharp fangs.
The faint sounds of a scuffle sounded, the nauseating pounding of flesh against bone, "they're waiting for me," Spike said pleasantly. "And they're not really known as a patient lot. So why don't you play your little soldier games later and go fetch me a clean shirt so I can go and see them properly." A strangled outraged groan emitted and then the wet slap of flesh against bloodied flesh. Buffy swallowed hard, thankful her eyes hadn't adjusted to the scant light just yet. "That's a good bloke," Spike encouraged as the figure scuttled off.
Several moments later the figure returned grunting meaningless apologies and handed Spike a dark cloth. Spike sniffed at it disdainfully, "not exactly Versace, but it'll do. Come along, pet," he said and began walking into the clearing, pulling the shirt over his head.
She scrambled after him, intensely feeling many pairs of vampire eyes boring into them, their undead aura making the delicate hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. She swallowed down her nervousness and stayed close to Spike, subconsciously imitating his confident gate and his proud stance.
Vampires thrive on fear, Angel had once explained to her. If you show them you're not afraid you're already one step ahead. One step isn't bad, she thought, although two-three or several thousand would probably be a hell of a lot better. There were too many vampires here, she could sense them all around her. The knowledge that should they attack she would be virtually helpless kept her off her usual balance.
They crossed the clearing, reaching a natural rock wall, its top lost amid trees and night skies. He headed towards a small opening in the rock guarded by two fierce-looking vampires. "Spike," one of them grunted by way of acknowledgment, stepping aside to let them pass.
"Nice to be recognized," Spike muttered. "I had to teach one of your more cheeky fledglings some manners."
The guard sighed ruefully, "children today, they've got no respect for their elders," he said thoughtfully. "I hope you didn't hurt him too bad, though, we might need him later."
Spike shrugged, "should be up and about in a week or so. In the meantime his aches and pains will give him something to think about." Buffy heard the guard's approving grunt as they stepped into the crevice.
The crevice opened up to a long twisting corridor. Hallways opened up to their sides as they walked, some dark with gritty stone floors, others well lit, soft luxurious carpeting offering an open invitation. Spike passed them as though they never existed, choosing instead the spiraling corridor. Torchlight flickered brightly at regular intervals between heavy tapestries. "This isn't just a temporary camp, is it?" Buffy asked shrewdly, her eyes skimming across the magnificent works of art as she walked. Knights fought bravely against hideous beasts while ladies swooned gently across fields of silk and gold.
"No, it's not," he replied.
"Then what's to stop me from coming here when this is all over and..."
"Torch the place down?" He completed dryly. She nodded although his back was to her. It was a stupid question, she knew that. One of those 'I know you're the killer, I'm alone and defenseless, but I'm still going to tell you I know you're the killer' type of cheap horror movie questions. But Spike was bright enough to have reached her conclusions on his own. "I wanted to blind fold you," he told her. "But they asked me not to. They said it was a matter of trust. They were very insistent about that."
Trust, she mused. There were far too many vampires aching for her trust lately.
"They also said they wanted you to feel welcome," Spike went on.
That was just too much. She nearly laughed out loud at that. Her nerves were hypersensitive as it was at the proximity of so many vampires in one closed space. Vampire niceties were not going to change anything. "Won't you step into my parlor? Said the spider to the fly," she murmured.
He stopped to look at her, torchlight playing wild shadows across his pale, sharp features, his deep eyes unfathomable. "They just want to talk, pet," he said. It was as close to comfort as she would get from him.
They moved on, Buffy slowly stroking the soothingly smooth wood of the stake tucked snuggly in her sleeve as she walked. She didn't really expect to use it, but its familiar weight was a source of comfort.
Spike finally stopped before a closed wooden door, "Ready?" He asked.
"No, not really," she replied. He pushed the door open. "Great to see that that matters somehow," she muttered.
The room was large, though not oppressively so, a roaring fire filled the hearth, its colors playfully gleaming off the bright tapestries on the walls. The carpeting was lush, inviting bare feet to walk across its soft surface. A library, such as Giles would have been proud to own, rested against the far wall. A dark haired man leaned against the library, his attention riveted to the book in his hands. Several others lounged around the room talking softly or reading. No one seemed to have noticed their arrival.
Spike cleared his throat politely, immediately earning him the attention of six pairs of eyes. "Ah, William," the man leaning against the library said delightedly, his voice heavily laced with an alien accent. He closed his book with a dusty thump and set it on a shelf.
Spike bowed unselfconsciously bringing a surprised smirk to Buffy's lips. Spike was not the sort to bow down to anyone without feeling even the slightest discomfort. No matter how well he hid it. "I bring you Buffy, the Vampire Slayer," he said formally.
Buffy immediately squared her shoulders and lifted a defiant chin, she would bow down to no one. Especially if they had vampire in their title. She could feel her skin prickle as the elders watched her silently. "I thought she'd be bigger," the dark haired one finally said.
"Yeah, I kind of get that a lot," Buffy replied awkwardly.
"Thank you William, you have done us a great service today," a pale woman sitting near the hearth said softly, her soft blonde hair gleaming in the firelight. Her voice was resonant, floating about the room with the strange accent of a forgotten language. "You may leave now."
Spike's eyes widened with surprise, "leave? But I..."
"Return to Sunnydale," the dark haired elder said softly. This was a man who didn't need to shout or order to get his way, his soft-spoken words were enough of a command. Buffy could feel the power emanating from him, from all of them. More powerful than the master had ever been, but different. The sense of awful malevolence that she had always associated with him didn't exist here. Her knees began to tremble. "Tend to your maddened lover," there was no reproach in his voice, but Spike winced nevertheless. "We will see that the Slayer returns safely."
Spike nodded and quickly left the room, leaving Buffy standing vulnerable and alone with the six vampire elders. She had hated Spike before, had attempted to kill him more than once. But she had never ached to see him a pile of dust at her feet as she did at that moment. "Sit, child," the pale woman said gently, "make yourself comfortable."
"That's not really likely to happen," Buffy replied, putting on a bold front. Never let them see you sweat, that way you're one step ahead. "I'd rather stand, thank you." The power radiating off them was incredible, it made the master seem like a fledgling. The pale woman nodded with supplication. She seemed young, a woman in her early twenties, but Buffy was enough of a veteran not to fall for that. After all, she had missed her boyfriend's bicentennial on account of not having been born. "You wanted to see me," she stated, hoping to speed things along.
