Slaying Dragons

by Pattyanne

The night air was sharp and clear. The mild autumn weather that Sunnydale had been enjoying had finally begun to surrender to winter's chillier bite. Unbothered by the cold, Spike strode through the park at a fast pace. He was late. He'd promised Buffy that he'd come and walk her home when she got off work, but he'd gotten sidelined helping Dawn study for an exam, and had lost track of the time. Knowing that the slayer wouldn't have the patience to sit and wait, he'd sent Dawn to bed and headed for the park she usually cut through on her way home, hoping to at least meet her halfway. Picturing that knock out smile she always gave him, he began to walk a little faster, inwardly laughing at his eagerness to see her. How the hell had this happened? Why was William the Bloody, one of the most feared vampires to ever crawl from a grave, behaving like a lovesick teenager? He'd been asking himself this question for more than two years, and the answer was always the same...because of her. A five foot nothing, ninety pound bundle of trouble had completely stolen his heart, and had done it so effortlessly that he hadn't realized it until it was gone. No...stolen was the wrong word for it. He had pretty much given it to her on a gold plate, all tied up with a nice red ribbon. Not that she'd wanted it..not at first, anyway. It was almost funny how much she HADN'T wanted it, how hard she'd thrown it back in his face. On the rare occasions when he felt contemplative, he would think back over their turbulent past, embarrassed at how idiotically he had behaved after he'd fallen in love with the slayer. Like a lost puppy, he'd been, following her around and begging her to keep him. Watching her everywhere she went, searching through her things for something with her scent on it, forcing his company on her when she clearly didn't want it. Christ, he'd been pathetic. But all those things put together didn't even begin to compare with the stupidest mistake he'd ever made...having a walking, talking copy of her built out of plastic and wire and computer bits. That little stunt had been so spectacularly ill conceived that, even now, he tried to make excuses for it. He'd been desperate, driven close to the extreme of running out into the noonday sun, ready to do anything to stop the constant, relentless ache in his heart that wouldn't let him sleep. The robot hadn't been perfect. Visually, she was a mirror image of Buffy. Same face, same hair, same voice. Same luscious body... Sweet natured and eager to please, she had satisfied every request...which, of course, she'd been programmed to do. He knew now that, sooner or later, the constant worship the robot had ladled on with a spoon would have gotten on his nerves. A good portion of his attraction to Buffy had been the "forbidden fruit" factor, the challenge she'd represented. The faster she'd run...the more he'd enjoyed the chase. Pursuing an unwilling woman was new for him. Drusilla had been a lot of things, but unwilling wasn't one of them. Dru had always been willing and ready. He had lost his innocence to her in more ways than one, and she had taught him things that his repressed, virginal self could never have dreamed of. Over the past hundred and change years, he had used that knowledge to seduce women, and they'd always come willingly to his bed. It was a source of pride for him that he'd never had to resort to raping a woman when he'd wanted her. KILLING them, yes. RAPING them, no. The slayer had been the first woman since he'd been turned to reject him so completely, and that rejection had whetted his appetite for her and aroused his lust for the pursuit. As always, for him, the thing he could not have became the only thing he wanted. Physically, he'd wanted her from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. Watching her dance and fight had excited him nearly to the point of just picking her up and carrying her off to his bed. But, after he'd fallen in love with her, that wanting had taken on a life of it's own, sinking it's roots so deeply into his heart that he'd never be free of it. By the time he'd acquired the robot, his need for an intimate union with Buffy had become almost physically painful. The slayer, however, had made it agonizingly clear that she would NEVER allow him to touch her in any way. She had, in fact, come right out and said so...."The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious..." But, while the robot had satisfied his physical needs, she just hadn't been Buffy. Not the Buffy he really wanted. The 'bot had Buffy's lovely eyes, but not the fire and spirit that made them sparkle. Her skin, although undeniably soft and tinted the right shade of peachy pink, lacked the warmth of Buffy's living flesh. Her silky hair was the right shade of honey and golden brown, but it hadn’t carried the intoxicating smell that made him dizzy whenever he was close to the slayer. The biggest, most obvious, difference was that the robot's body...being artificial...held none of the purely female scent that Buffy's gave off. Some things just couldn't be faked. Still, even though the 'bot hadn't been a perfect Buffy, she'd come damn close to it, and he'd been willing to settle. He'd had no choice after he began having trouble performing in bed with a woman unless he closed his eyes and pretended the body beneath him was hers. When his imagination was no longer enough, he knew that unless he wanted to spend whatever span of time he had left in a state of constant sexual frustration, something drastic had to be done. And, as it usually did, his 'something drastic' plan had blown up in his face. But, those days were over now. Sexual nonfulfillment was a thing of the past, easily forgotten. There was no more having to seek solace in artificial arms, or using his own hand for whatever meager satisfaction masturbation could provide. That constant, driving need...a need so strong and ultimately hopeless that it made him want to die permanently...was gone, leaving nothing behind but the normal and healthy desire he felt for the girl he was in love with. Buffy was HIS girl now. She belonged to him, as he belonged to her, and he could have her whenever he wanted. She never denied him. Spike knew that he could come to her at any time of the day or night, and she would welcome him into her arms. He'd tested that theory once by waking her from a sound sleep in the middle of the night, explaining to her that an erotic dream he'd been having had produced a condition that he needed her help with if he was ever going to be able to go back to sleep. She'd made love to him for over an hour. Just the memory of it now was bringing on that same condition, and he smiled like a horny teenage boy sneaking in to his first X-rated movie. More eager than ever to get his hands of her, he began walking faster. He was a little more than halfway through the park when he spotted her sitting on a bench, staring intently at something in her lap. "Hey, there's my girl," he called out to her. "Couldn't wait for me to...." His words trailed off as he got closer, wondering why she hadn't looked up and smiled when she heard him. It wasn't until he was standing directly in front of her that he knew exactly why she hadn't responded to him. He stared down at her, horrified by what he saw. She was asleep! So completely asleep that she hadn't so much as twitched when he approached her. "Damn it," he swore softly, kneeling in front of her. "Buffy? Baby?" He shook her gently. "Come on, baby...wake up." "Hmm?" Confused green eyes opened briefly, then drifted shut again. This was his worst nightmare come horribly true. Buffy, alone and vulnerable to all sorts of frightening possibilities. Asleep like this, she'd be an easy target for whoever...or whatever...came along. Such a juicy opportunity to kill the slayer didn't offer itself up everyday. The greenest, most inept fledgling could snap her neck before she could open her eyes, then spend the rest of his existence bragging about killing the best slayer there ever was. Thankful that he had been the vampire to stumble across her first, he gathered her up into his arms and carried her home. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Giles rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then fumbled his glasses on and tried to focus on the front door of his townhouse, while someone on the other side tried to batter it down. "All right...coming," he muttered under his breath, working the locks as quickly as his sleep fogged brain allowed. "Now, for the love of God, stop that racket before you wake the..." The door swung open. "Dead?" Spike finished. "Too late." "What on...why are you...," the watcher stammered, still not fully awake as Spike nudged him to one side and walked into the living room. "What time is it?" "It's time to talk, Rupert," Spike replied. "Past time, actually. "What, are you SERIOUS?" Giles asked irritably. "Time to talk at..." He squinted at the clock over the fireplace. "Four o'clock in the blessed A.M.?" "That's what I said, isn't it?" Spike's tone was quiet and serious, with none of the smart ass quality he excelled at. "This can't wait. Not one more bloody night." He was barely managing to hold the leash on his temper. Only an effort of sheer will power that he'd spent decades instilling in himself kept him from resorting to profanity and violence. After carrying Buffy home without penetrating the coma like sleep she'd fallen into, he'd taken her upstairs and put her to bed. He'd undressed her down to her bra and panties, scooted her beneath the blankets and kissed her goodnight...all this without so much as a squeak out of her...then sat on the bed beside her, watch her sleep. ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// He watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed slowly in and out. His eyes moved over her, tracing every delicate feature, engraving it into his memory. Although she was as beautiful as ever in his eyes, he could see the changes in her. Her face was a little too thin, her skin a shade too pale, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. She'd lost weight that her small frame couldn't spare. All in all, she looked older and more careworn than a twenty year old girl should. Spike knew, without being told, exactly what was wrong, why she looked and acted so tired. Working long hours at a minimum wage job, broken nights spent prowling around graveyards instead of sleeping, not to mention the added burden of being a surrogate mother to a fifteen year old girl and trying to provide some semblance of a normal home life for her, was taking a harsh physical toll. He did as much as he could to help, even though housekeeping skills were not his best event. But keeping the house clean and the laundry done wasn't the most serious problem. Money, or rather the lack of it, was becoming an issue and Buffy was fretting herself half to death over it. He had already sold his car months ago. It was a classic, and once it was cleaned up and repainted, he'd gotten a fairly good price for it. He could have gotten more, but being unable to produce a title and registration had limited his choice of offers. Buffy hadn't wanted him to sell it. In fact, she'd asked him not to. It wasn't until the prospect of expensive plumbing repairs were staring her in the face that she'd accepted the money. She had felt guilty about doing it, and it had taken no small effort on his part to make her understand that he didn't care about the stupid car. Sure, he'd liked it well enough. But when you boiled things down to the bare facts, it WAS just a car. A hunk of steel and glass and motor parts, designed to take one from Point 'A' to Point 'B'. In the long run, the car was nothing to him. But Buffy? Buffy was his life. His luck at cards had brought in some additional money, but it couldn't be counted on as a steady source of income. Practiced thief though he may once have been, he knew Buffy wouldn't tolerate him resorting to illegal methods of obtaining money or merchandise. There wasn't much else he could do for her, so she worked double shifts, living mostly on the greasy food she served up. Long hours on her feet, lack of proper sleep, nutrition that was dubious at best, constant anxiety over money and household repairs, and Dawn's future. These thing were slowly eating away at her, killing her wonderful spirit. It was already affecting her slaying. Tonight's incident was proof of that. She had made a bad mistake by falling asleep in the park, leaving herself wide open and helpless. Though nothing had come of it, how long would it be before she made an even bigger mistake...a fatal one? Spike was terribly afraid that it wouldn't be very long at all. He knew that if something wasn't done to fix this mess, he was going to lose her. Either some creature was going to get hold of her and kill her when she was too beaten down to defend herself, or she would simply drop dead of exhaustion. Slayer strength or no slayer strength, Buffy was still human. Her body could only take so much of the abuse being heaped on it before it just quit on her. And there was no way he was going to allow that to happen. If he had to throw her over his shoulder and carry her out of this town kicking and screaming, he would do it without thinking twice. He was going to take care of this, one way or another, and he didn't much care whose neck he had to step on...or break...to do it. Turning her small hand over in his, he pressed a kiss into it's soft palm, smiling when he saw her automatically close her fingers to hold on to the kiss. "Even in your sleep," he said, smoothing back her hair, "You know I love you." ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// ///// Spike stood in the living room, waiting as Giles closed his front door. "All right," the watcher said, folding his arms across his chest. "Why do we need to talk at this...inconvenient hour of the morning.?" "Sorry about that," Spike said sarcastically. "I'd have dropped by in the afternoon, but I'm really more of a night person." "Very amusing," Giles replied, sounding anything but amused. "Now will you just get on with it?" Lowering himself into a chair, Spike propped hi feet up on the coffee table, ignoring the watchers scowl. "How long have you been at the Watcher game?" Giles stared at him in disbelief. "You're here at four in the morning...to ask me THAT?! You couldn't have waited for a time when civilized people are up and about?" Spike shrugged. "I never claimed to be civilized," he said. "Just answer the question." There was a long pause as Giles decided to humor the insane vampire and hurry him on his way. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I began to be trained as a watcher in my childhood. As was my father, and my grandmother before him. Now...if that's all you wanted to know, the..." "Right," Spike cut him off. "So, it's what...sort of a family business, is it?" "I'd hardly refer to it as a business," Giles bristled. "Then it's just a job?" "No. No, of course it's not just a job. It's..it's a calling, not unlike a desire to join the clergy or..." "But you paid for it, don't you?" Spike narrowed his eyes slightly. "Watcher's council pays you a salary...right?" Giles sighed. "Are you anywhere in the neighborhood of a point?" "Oh, I'm getting there," Spike assured him. "I just want to be clear on this. You...a watcher...get paid a salary, right?" Still hoping that cooperation would rid him of his uninvited guest, Giles nodded. "Yes, I get paid a salary. Why do you..." "Must be a pretty good one, too," Spike interrupted again. "Places like this," he gestured around the room, "don't come cheap. And your little magic shop isn't exactly printing money, is it?" Giles was silent. "And, correct me if I'm wrong," Spike continued, "but didn't you just buy a very expensive new car?" "Leased," Giles said shortly. Spike shrugged. "Even so." He swung his feet back down to the floor. "Now, here's my point, so listen up...it doesn't seem quite right that you watchers get paid a big salary, while the girls who do the actual slaying...don't." Giles looked truly surprised, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape. Spike pressed on. "Maybe, it's time to rethink this whole Watcher/Slayer dynamic, huh?" "In...in all my years as a watcher...in all the journals I've studied...this has never come up," Giles stammered, shaking his head. "Why do you...why are you asking this?" "Because things change, Watcher," Spike answered curtly. "Circumstances change." Giles shook his head. "That may be true for you, but tradition..." "SCREW TRADITION" Spike shouted. Giles flinched, and the vampire forced himself to modify his tone. "Circumstances change," he said again, "and the rules should change with them." "What on earth do you mean?" Spike sighed. "I mean," he said softly, "Buffy isn't a teenager anymore, with a mother providing all the basic necessities of life for her." "I realize that," Giles said. "But I don't understand.." "Well, if you'd shut up and let me finish," Spike bit out impatiently, "then maybe you WILL understand." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts and calming his temper. "Buffy is older now than all the slayers before her, and the reason she's older is because she's so damn good at what she does. So good that she might continue doing it for a long time, right?" Giles nodded. "I pray that she does, of course. And the council as well." Settling back into the cushions, Spike laced his fingers together and turned his hands outwards, making the knuckles crack unpleasantly. "Well, don't bet the farm on it, Rupert. Because she doesn't have much time left." The watcher tensed, replacing his glasses and meeting Spike's intent gaze with his own. "What are you saying," he asked. "Have you heard about something being planned for her? Has...has there been a direct threat?" Spike shook his head. "No." "Well, then tell me what you mean by that comment!" Giles demanded. "I mean...that she's coming slowly unglued right before your stupid eyes." Spike felt the anger beginning to simmer and his demon struggling to emerge, and he concentrated on beating it into submission. "She's doing too bloody much," he continued deliberately, as though he were explaining something to a dull witted child. "She's on her feet for hours every day at a dead end job, living on fast food and coffee. And between her slaying and worrying about earning a living...she's not sleeping properly. She's exhausted. Giles looked stricken at this revelation. "I didn't realize that things were so...I mean, she's never said..." Spike had no sympathy. "She shouldn't have to say it. YOU should have seen it, Watcher. Isn't that part of your job description?" He released a harsh, unamused laugh. "Watcher? That's bloody funny, isn't it?" he asked bitterly. Giles opened his mouth to speak, but Spike didn't give him a chance. "Oh, you WATCH her all right...but you don't SEE." Unable to sit still, he jumped to his feet and paced restlessly around the room. Stopping suddenly, he turned on one heel and fixed his eyes squarely on Giles. "I have a story to tell you," he said quietly. "And I want you to play close attention to it." He approached the sofa where Giles was sitting, with slow, measured steps. "Once upon a time..." "Oh, good God," Giles muttered. "ONCE UPON A TIME," Spike repeated, raising his voice. "There was a princess. She was very beautiful and very brave, and all her subjects loved her. One day the "Royal Council", comprised equally of jackasses and idiots, came to the castle where the princess lived. They told her that, out of all the princesses in the world, she had been chosen to slay the dragons that preyed on humanity." "The princess was frightened...uncertain. She was only one girl, and there were too many dragons to even begin to count." "These dragons were bloodthirsty creatures, that breathed fire, and they absolutely loved to kill people and eat them all up." "The princess asked the council what in the world she could possibly do to stop them. The council told her not to worry, because they were going to teach her to everything she needed to know about dragons and how to kill them." "So, they trained her to fight, and the princess discovered that she was very strong and very fast, maybe more than anyone else in the world." "Finally, there came a day when the council placed a sword in her hand, and kicked the princess out the front door of her castle." Giles looked as though he was going to speak, but Spike silenced him with a glare. "Now, don't worry," the council assured the princess. "We'll be watching you. We'll watch every move you make, every battle you fight. But...before you go, remember this...the fate of the world depends upon you, and you alone." "So, the princess set out alone into a dark and dangerous world. She made some friends along the way, and they tried to help her but they could only do so much." Giles stood up and went into the kitchen. He took a bottle of aspirin out of the cupboard, then ran himself a glass of water and swallowed three of them. Spike waited until he returned to the sofa and sat down. "Over the next few years," he went on, "the princess killed an army of dragons, some of which nearly killed HER instead. At one point, she met up with a dragon that she couldn't manage to kill, no matter how hard she tried. This dragon was drawn to the princess, although he didn't understand why." "Turns out, this particular dragon wasn't really a dragon at all. He told the princess that a black haired witch had cast a spell that turned him into one, and that actually, he was a knight in...well, not exactly shining armor...and that he was quite handsome as well." Giles rolled his eyes. "This is supposed to be you, I presume." Spike shrugged his shoulders and smirked. "Now that you mention it..." "I wish I hadn't." "Anyway," Spike went on. "The dragon required a princess to break the spell he'd been cursed with. All he needed, you see, was..." "If you say "love's first kiss" I shall strike you." Giles warned. "Oh, all right," Spike said agreeably. "Long story short... "Short?!" ...the spell was broken. After that happened, the princess and the knight..." "Oh, DO let me guess," Giles cut in sarcastically. "They go on their way, merrily slaying dragons together, and lived happily ever after. Who would have guessed?" He ignored Spike's thunderous frown. "I'm quite sincere, you know. Never saw it coming." Spike stared at the watcher in silence for a few moments, slowly shaking his head. "No, that's not right." "Really?" Giles asked. "Fancy that! I thought all fairy tales ended that way." Spike's voice dropped into a lower, more threatening tone. "That's the way the story SHOULD have ended, Rupert. Shall I tell you what really happened?" Giles leaned back against the sofa. "I suppose you will whether I want you to or not." Resisting the urge to punch the man in the face, Spike went to the window and pulled back the curtains. Sunrise wasn't far away. Without turning around, he said, "The knight loved the princess more than he'd ever loved anyone before. He protected her as well as he could, but he was unable to protect her from...herself." "The princess, because it was her "Sacred Duty" continued to hunt and slay dragons. Night after night, month after month, year after year. She fought them and she always won...always." "Until the night came, when she was so tired...so worn out from slaying dragons and trying to provide for her subjects...that she fell into an exhausted sleep near a dragons's lair." "And while she slept on the forest floor...a dragon happened upon her without warning...and killed her." Spike turned from the window and looked at Giles. "Now...do you see?" The reality of what Spike was telling him, the truth behind the story, hit the watcher right between the eyes. "When..." He cleared his throat. "When did...did this happen?" "Few hours ago," Spike said. "I found her sitting on a bench in a park that is sometimes crawling with vampires...asleep. So deeply asleep that a nuclear bomb could have exploded in front of her without waking her up." "Dear, God..." "Don't you mean THANK God?" Spike asked harshly. "As in 'thank God Spike found her before some other vampire sank its fangs into her?" Giles' hands were shaking as he clasped them together. "Yes. Yes, of course. Thank God indeed...and thank you as well." I don't want you to thank me," Spike snapped, opening the front door. "I want you to do something about this, and I want it done soon...before it's too late." He was out the door when the watcher's voice called him back. "Until this is settled...you'll take care of her?" Spike scowled, angry that he'd even asked such a foolish question. As if he'd trust anyone else to take care of her. "Don't you worry about that," he said. "Until this is settled, I'm not letting her out of my sight." Giles stood up, a little more composed. "I just need to be sure that she's...." Spike held up one hand. "I'll take care of Buffy. That's MY job, now...not yours. You just concentrate your energy on the idiot brigade and leave the slayer to me." He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. "You make them do right by her, Watcher," he said softly. "Because if you don't," he added through clenched teeth, "I swear to GOD that I'll take her so far away from this place that you'll NEVER find her." Giles stared at the floor. "Threats won't help matters, Spike." Highly amused, Spike shook his head. "Oh, Rupert," he said, "You really don't know me at all, do you?" Stepping out into the cold, predawn air, he actually smiled a little. "That wasn't a threat. THAT...was a promise." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Literally moments ahead of the sunrise, Spike climbed the stairs to Buffy's room. He closed the door quietly, happy to see that she was still deeply asleep. After making sure the heavy curtains on the window were drawn tight, he undressed and climbed into bed next to her. Even though he was certain that Hannibal and his elephants could march through the room without disturbing her, he moved carefully, not wanting to jostle her awake. Laying beside her, propped on one arm, he studied her sleeping countenance, content just to look at her. Her slumber seemed peaceful, her features relaxed and wiped clean of the worry that was so much a part of her appearance lately. Gone was the tension, the grinding anxiety that plagued her waking hours, leaving behind the visage of a pretty child who led a carefree life, and had nothing but whimsical dreams. He made a silent promise to keep her that way. Lowering himself to the mattress, he placed one arm around her protectively, guarding the precious sleep that allowed her to escape..even if only temporarily..from a world that had already hounded her into her grave once. "You sleep sweet, baby," he whispered. "Sleep as long as you want to. I'm here now, and I won't let anything bad happen to you. Nothing is ever gonna hurt my baby again." Sensing him there, Buffy turned towards him and snuggled closer. "That's right," He tightened his embrace. "Just rest and get better. I'll slay those dragons for you...even the human ones." He closed his eyes and joined her in healing sleep.