Family, Chapter Twenty Two
Well, I'm still late.
Oh so very very very late.
Sorry.
But here's the first of the chapters, anyway, and I may get around to posting the updated version of 'Smother Me' this week.
Now if I can only remember how to post this properly - please ignore if it's weird for my first few attempts :D
“What do you mean, a bounty?!” Spike shouted, flinging himself out of the bed and completely away from his Sire. “You can’t do that!”
“And why not?” Angelus asked, giving him a smirk. “I’m the Master of the Aurelius clan; I can put a bounty on anything I wish. I can put a bounty on a wayward Childe or a carton of peanut butter ice cream, and every demon and magic-user on the continent will be fighting to be the first to claim the prize.”
“You bloody interferin’ bastard!” Spike fumed, “I’m not gonna be able to show my face anywhere in this town without gettin’ grabbed!”
“Exactly,” Angelus’ smirk grew into a self-satisfied grin. “I want you back, Childe, and I’m going to get you back - no matter what it takes.”
Spike clenched his teeth together and glared at his very, very smug Sire. “Peaches… I really want to strangle you right now.”
“Too bad you’re not really here with me, then,” Angelus was just grinning wider and wider, looking more than slightly maniacal. “Although, I will admit I’ve never been that curious about erotic asphyxiation; I’m willing to give it a try if that’s what you want.”
Spike didn’t even pause to think how stupid it was - he snatched a pillow off his bed and starting beating his Sire with it.
*
“There now,” Penn said softly, laying his burden down on the nest of blankets that Tomas and Deborah had prepared, “and I trust you’re going to be extremely careful?”
Tomas looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Of course, Brother. Do you think me blind?”
“What?”
Now his younger Brother gave him one of his small, rare smiles. “I’ve seen the way you watch this one, Gabriel. I’ll make sure he comes through this unharmed.”
“He’s one of the Slayer’s pets,” Penn huffed, “We don’t need the stupid girl getting angry with us over damaging one of her friends.”
“Of course,” Tomas nodded solemnly, his smile gone but his eyes still shining with amusement. “I understand completely. Are you going to stay for the ritual?”
“I - yes, I think I will,” Penn nodded, not quite able to meet his Brother’s eyes, “I’ve not seen you and Deborah working for decades, and this particular rite promises to be interesting.”
“Indeed,” Deborah entered the room with a sweep of her long, ivory skirt, “This is one of the more amusing spells we do. It’s always fascinating to see how a person’s mind works - what memories they think are important and what information they squirrel away. I wonder what secrets this pretty boy keeps under that lovely wavy hair?”
She put out a slender hand and stroked Xander’s head, and Penn had to fight not to bare his fangs at her.
Tomas’ eyes were shining again, and he and Deborah exchanged thoroughly amused glances that Penn didn’t notice.
His eyes were riveted on the tall, lean body stretched out on the floor, surrounded by thick, crimson blankets. Easy to tell, when he was completely relaxed and loosely spread out by the spell of complete unconsciousness that Deborah had prepared - and given a token of to each of them, just in case one of them ran in to William unexpectedly - that Xander wasn’t the shuffling, awkward, small human that he tried to look like.
He had broad shoulders and long legs, sweet young muscles and a pretty face, and Penn was utterly confused as to why the boy tried to be invisible and why the many girls that seemed to be constantly around him looked over him like he wasn’t there.
They didn’t even try to see through the boy’s sad excuse for a disguise - really, he hunched his shoulders and made dumb remarks and it had completely taken his little group of ‘friends’ in.
What odd children. How they had ever been observant enough to keep a Hellmouth protected and unclaimed was beyond him.
“We should start - Father will be waking soon, and can give us some information on William. We should have something more ready and waiting for him,” Deborah’s delicate voice broke into his thoughts.
“Yes,” he nodded, and watched closely as she and Tomas began to mark arcane symbols on the floor around his - around the boy, using black chalk on the white marble. The marks began to glow dully as Deborah chanted under her breath, thin lines of faintly scented smoke rising from them.
On the blankets, Xander twitched and let out a little moan.
“No nightmares,” Tomas said gently, reaching out and tracing his finger in a sigil over Xander’s forehead. “No bad dreams, little boy. Think of William - think of Spike. Think of the friend he told you about, think of the games he told you he played.”
“Kittens,” Xander mumbled, and a glowing window opened above him, showing a shabby, dark room with a bed folded out of a couch, with Xander sprawled over it, chewing on a piece of pizza, while William was draped upside-down over an orangey-red armchair nearby.
Both of the young ones looked bored out of their minds.
“I hate rainy evenings,” Xander groaned, rolling onto his back and gnawing on the last bit of crust in his hand. “Can’t really go anywhere - Buffy won’t patrol, and the Bronze’ll either be so jam-packed full you can’t move, or empty. Nothing good is playing at the movies, either.”
“Wanna play poker?” William asked, not even opening his eyes.
“Not playing anything with you; you cheat,” the boy instantly replied.
“Want me to teach you how to cheat at poker?” William cracked open one blue eye to glare at him.
“Why, so Buffy can get mad and throw things at me if I actually start to win?”
“You brats play for peanuts; why would she get mad?”
“She’s very competitive,” Xander said snottily, “And she doesn’t like it when she doesn’t win.”
William turned his head a little and opened both eyes. “Oh, yeah? Then - if I teach you good enough that she won’t realize you’re cheating, that ought to really set the bint’s hair on fire!”
“Exactly why do you want Buffy to be mad at me, Spike? Are you really that bored?”
“I’m always bloody bored,” William sighed, “This town is a waste of me unlife.”
“I’m sorry we don’t live up to your exciting standards,” Xander grinned a little, “Anyway, if you’re so bored, why don’t you go find some strangers to play poker with, win a little money off of them? We could go to that big paintball competition in LA if you can get the entry fees.”
William snorted. “Can’t get money from most strangers in this town unless I find some stupid humans. And those brats at the Bronze don’t count, they don’t know what poker is half the time. Only wanna play pool, and the tossers tell the new people not to play with me.”
“Find some demons to play with,” Xander offered, grinning at the idea of Spike’s former pool-shark victims warning away any fresh offerings.
“Won’t do no good for your fees,” William grumbled, “Demons only play for kittens.”
“What are ‘kittrens’?” Xander asked, giving him a raised eyebrow.
“Not ‘kittrens’, you silly berk, kittens. Y’know, lil’ bitty cats. Meow, mow, myowr?”
Xander stared at him. “Kittens?! What would a demon want with kittens?!”
“Guess they’re kind of a treat. Juicy and crunchy, and not all that easy for a demon t’get hold of.”
“They eat cute little kittens?” Xander gave William a definite stink-eye.
“Well, they sure don’t want them for cuddles,” William snarked back. “Heard they taste pretty good with that orange sauce you get at Japanese restaurants.”
“Ugh,” Xander made a disgusted face, “Thanks a lot, Spike! I won’t be able to have shrimp sauce for months!”
“Aw, sorry, mate,” William looked anything but sorry, his pretty face shining with glee. “Didn’t mean to ruin yer enjoyment of yer munchies, there!”
“I saw you petting a cat once,” Xander said, still shuddering a little, “I always thought you liked them. Why would you trade their babies off to get eaten?”
“I don’t like cats,” William protested, “You prolly just - just dreamed that you saw me pettin’ one! Anyway, guy I play poker with swaps ‘em for blood or ciggys or other stuff I need.”
“Wait until I tell Willow - she’ll whammy you!”
“Aw, c’mon, Xander,” William turned right side up and scowled at him. “Ya don’t gotta tell her nothin’ ‘bout it! Besides, I don’t think my mate really eats the damn things - he coos over ‘em too much and he’s always got some cat hair stuck on him somewhere. I think he takes the little buggers home and keeps ‘em. Hate to see how many of them he’s got crawlin’ round his place. Come to think of it, he does kinda smell like one o’ them little old ladies with a houseful of cats.”
“The ones that smell like tuna and cat pee? Yuck - I used to hate it when they came in the grocery stores where I worked. You could get fired for pinching your nose or making faces, but the managers never got too close. And if I had to carry their groceries out, their cars were usually ten times worse.”
William gave a delicate shudder. “Can’t even imagine. You’ve seen some horrors, pet. Anyway - if you don’t wanna play poker, and I ain’t headin’ to Clem’s in this rain, what do you wanna do?”
“I guess it’s time to get out Battleship,” Xander grinned, and William gave a truly heartfelt groan.
Then the window dissipated into a misty smoke, and Penn blinked.
“Is that all?”
“He said the name we were looking for,” Deborah smiled at him, “I would have loved to keep playing and find out his secrets for you, dear one, but Father will want the name immediately. Shall I keep him asleep and let you watch more, later?”
“Why on earth would I want to see more?” Penn gave her a very mild glare. “Don’t be silly, Deborah.”
“Of course, Gabriel,” she said, still smiling. “Shall I wake him now, or let him rest and awaken naturally?”
Penn frowned down at the boy. “Does it matter?”
“Well, it’s a bit traumatizing to be brought out of the sleep-spell abruptly; he’d be shaking and whimpering for a few hours, his nerves all flaring in little bursts of pain. But nothing serious, and it will wear off by morning. Or he can sleep until he wakes up in about ten hours, and he’ll be fine. More than fine, probably - it’s a very deep and restful sleep.”
“I suppose that would be best,” Penn said nonchalantly, moving to scoop up the tall, heavy young man with complete ease, “I’ll just put him in one of the bedrooms until he wakes. The Slayer will still protest this, of course, but the less she has to complain about, the better.”
“Of course,” Deborah nodded, and kept the smirk off of her pretty face until Penn left the room with his burden.
“Deborah,” Tomas scolded her gently, “That spell doesn’t traumatize someone at all. He’d wake up like he normally would if you brought him out of it.”
“I know that,” Deborah smiled sweetly at him, moving to clean up the symbols from the floor, “But Gabriel doesn’t.”
“You’re a wicked thing,” Tomas laughed, and started folding up the blankets.
*
“I liked being the bait,” Drusilla said dreamily, stretching out on the little loveseat she’d claimed as her own and dragged into her room, “But I’m rather bored now.”
Her companion didn’t answer, just gazed at her silently.
“It’s all very well for you, Miss Edith,” Drusilla snapped, “You already know where my sweet Prince is! You don’t have to lie about and wait and wonder.”
The doll did not reply.
“You could tell me, you know,” Drusilla said in her sweetest tone, “I would be just delighted to know, and I’ll have you a brand new dress made.”
Miss Edith said nothing.
“A lovely dress, in pink silk. With ruffles. And lace. And a matching hair ribbon… or would you prefer a clever little hat? Perhaps with feathers?” She tried to sweeten the pot.
China blue eyes stared back, silent.
“Or would you wish for a new tea set, instead? Fine bone china, white with blue flowers. Why, I’d add a blue silk tea-cozy!”
There was no answer.
“You’re such a stubborn creature!” Drusilla said petulantly, getting up and glaring at her doll, porcelain-pale nose to porcelain-pale nose. “Fine, a new dress and a new tea set, and I promise not to put holy water in your tea! What else could you possibly want?”
The doll gazed solemnly back at her.
“What do you mean, a naked boy-doll or no deal?!”
*
“William,” Angelus laughed, finally batting the pillow away and grabbing his Childe, rolling him onto the bed and himself on top of the squirming little brat, “stop being so silly and tell Sire where you are.”
“I won’t.” His Childe’s pretty chin went up, stubborn as always, his lovely mouth setting in a firm line.
“Now, Childe - how am I supposed to make love to you if you’re hiding away?” Angelus decided to try a different sort of temptation, ghosting his hand down his Childe’s bare side, just touching his skin. “I’ve been making you feel good, haven’t I? Don’t you want more?”
“Yer not that good at it, you tosser,” Spike growled, trying to squirm away from that hand and the desire that it stroked to life in his body - he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t waking up from this stupid dream and…
…and there was a crash, somewhere above him, and he and his Sire both jerked upright.
And then Spike was alone, in his cold bed, and there were footsteps in the crypt above him.
Heavy, stomping footsteps, and the Slayer’s voice yelling his name, her tone angry and worried, so something more was going on than them hunting him to interrogate him about Angelus and his bloody Childer.
Spike dragged himself out of bed, pulled on his loosest t-shirt - he’d still been wearing his jeans; guess Angelus’ dream-magic didn’t work for getting him completely starkers, although he really couldn’t remember if he’d gone to bed fully dressed or not, and now was not the time to worry about it.
He could hear Giles’ and Willow’s anxious voices, too muffled by the stone floor to make out their words.
He didn’t hear Xander, and that made his head tilt thoughtfully. Usually his Nummy Treat was right there with his friends whenever something was going on; it was pretty strange that he wasn’t.
After about five minutes, the footsteps and voices retreated and the crypt door slammed shut. Spike started up the ladder and hovered at the top for what seemed like an eternity, waiting to hear someone come back, but it was silent.
His instincts told him it was day outside; so unless they used a portal, none of his Vampire relations were going to be coming there. There was no scent of magic in the air, not even when he silently slid the deadbolts back and eased the trap door down a crack to get a better whiff.
No scent of a lurking demon or sorcerer or witch, and he would know if there was a disillusionment spell in action up there - Angelus and his merry little band of death had no idea how sensitive to magic he was; Drusilla would have known if she’d had any brains in her dear, scattered little mind but he didn’t think she’d ever figured it out.
Another advantage to mark down to his side - maybe there was some sort of weakness he could figure out, someway to use his sensitivity to take advantage of the others and get the hell out of Dodge like he wanted.
Without, of course, actually using any magic on his own - he hated even trying that. The few times Drusilla had talked him into it, the spells had worked but left him feeling like every hair on his body was on end and quivering - his nose hair, especially, had nearly driven him insane.
He’d been able to smell the spicy-sweet scent of magic so much more clearly after that, though - maybe there was a silver lining to that dark cloud.
He still wasn’t going to do it again, though. He’d almost go back to Angelus willingly before he’d do that.
Another few minutes of cautious waiting, and then his impatience got the best of him and he slithered out of his hiding place, out from under the heavy rug, and then gazed around his still-trashed crypt.
There was a piece of paper stuck to his mangled chair with a stake - Buffy’s ham-handed method of trying for intimidation. He rolled his eyes and pulled the stake out, tossing it aside and reading the paper.
His eyebrows shot up his forehead - so Nummy Treat wasn’t trying to assert his independence, huh? Actually missing. Only for a few hours, but in Sunnydale, that might as well be a few days.
Or decades.
Or a death sentence.
Hmm, and here he owed his pet a favor - little berk shouldn’t have spilled his guts to Angelus about Spike, but Spike knew he had benefited from it, anyway. So maybe he would help out, but he wasn’t actually going to follow the Slayer’s heated orders.
He’d do things on his own.
Now, let’s see - there was that little old Misfa demoness that lived across from the Watcher - Spike had always found it utterly amusing that one of Giles’ neighbors was a ‘creature of the night!’ like Buffy thought she was supposed to be killing, and no one had ever figured it out. He’d even seen Giles and Xander helping her with things, like carrying in her groceries or fetching her mail.
She did look like a little old lady, of course, but Spike had snapped to what she was in an instant, and she’d certainly known exactly what he was. He’d even sauntered over a few times and played bridge with her and her friends when he was beyond his usual boredom. She always gave him a nice cuppa and some biscuits.
She would have seen anything that went on, and prolly would tell him - but she would also know about Angelus’ stupid bounty and he wasn’t certain that she wouldn’t rat him out. Misfa demons were sweet, harmless little wrinkled things, always passing themselves off as old humans but she was really in the prime of her life and on a mate hunt.
Males of her kind were extremely hard to locate, and she and her ‘friends’ would actually all move into the same house and make a nest together if they found one, sharing him around between them and having a couple dozen babies - but they’d been looking for about two years with no luck and Angelus had Lucinda the Searcher with him.
Lucy was a blowhard, he was almost certain, but she still had a huge reputation in the demon and vampire circles for finding anything. Anything, as long as it wasn’t protected by powerful magic, and Misfa males didn’t have magic. They were just rare.
It would be a perfect request for her to make and Spike knew that for all their gentle, frail appearance, those three little females were strong as oxen and could hold him down with their pinky fingers while they got in touch with his damn Family.
‘Course, he also knew where a Misfa male was, and maybe it was time to use that information. That little shaky bloke who cleaned the library late at night could use three ladies taking care of him - he didn’t look very healthy and he smelled funny.
Spike had just been hanging on to the knowledge in case he needed it anyway - and with something so important to Ulla and her friends, he could get more than just information on what they might or might not have seen concerning Xander.
If he brought Ulla a mate, or told her where one was, he could get her to spy for him - she’d tell him everything that went on at Giles’ house, including what his stupid Family was up to!
He’d actually had a passing thought about it before, when he was trying to get out of Sunnydale before they found him, but he’d let it go in his panic -hadn’t cared what they were up to, so long as he got safely away.
Now, though - he couldn’t go anywhere else for fear of getting grabbed by the first demon that saw him - wouldn’t be easy, just getting through the streets to Ulla’s place, but he was pretty sure that he could manage enough of a disguise, and knew Sunnydale’s back ways well enough, that he could make it there and back to his crypt.
Ulla might even have a little bit of blood for him, and he was getting hungry.
Really hungry.
Spike took a deep breath, nodded his head decisively, and went back down into his hideaway to get ready.
He’d go to Ulla, and hope for the best.
Oh so very very very late.
Sorry.
But here's the first of the chapters, anyway, and I may get around to posting the updated version of 'Smother Me' this week.
Now if I can only remember how to post this properly - please ignore if it's weird for my first few attempts :D
“What do you mean, a bounty?!” Spike shouted, flinging himself out of the bed and completely away from his Sire. “You can’t do that!”
“And why not?” Angelus asked, giving him a smirk. “I’m the Master of the Aurelius clan; I can put a bounty on anything I wish. I can put a bounty on a wayward Childe or a carton of peanut butter ice cream, and every demon and magic-user on the continent will be fighting to be the first to claim the prize.”
“You bloody interferin’ bastard!” Spike fumed, “I’m not gonna be able to show my face anywhere in this town without gettin’ grabbed!”
“Exactly,” Angelus’ smirk grew into a self-satisfied grin. “I want you back, Childe, and I’m going to get you back - no matter what it takes.”
Spike clenched his teeth together and glared at his very, very smug Sire. “Peaches… I really want to strangle you right now.”
“Too bad you’re not really here with me, then,” Angelus was just grinning wider and wider, looking more than slightly maniacal. “Although, I will admit I’ve never been that curious about erotic asphyxiation; I’m willing to give it a try if that’s what you want.”
Spike didn’t even pause to think how stupid it was - he snatched a pillow off his bed and starting beating his Sire with it.
*
“There now,” Penn said softly, laying his burden down on the nest of blankets that Tomas and Deborah had prepared, “and I trust you’re going to be extremely careful?”
Tomas looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Of course, Brother. Do you think me blind?”
“What?”
Now his younger Brother gave him one of his small, rare smiles. “I’ve seen the way you watch this one, Gabriel. I’ll make sure he comes through this unharmed.”
“He’s one of the Slayer’s pets,” Penn huffed, “We don’t need the stupid girl getting angry with us over damaging one of her friends.”
“Of course,” Tomas nodded solemnly, his smile gone but his eyes still shining with amusement. “I understand completely. Are you going to stay for the ritual?”
“I - yes, I think I will,” Penn nodded, not quite able to meet his Brother’s eyes, “I’ve not seen you and Deborah working for decades, and this particular rite promises to be interesting.”
“Indeed,” Deborah entered the room with a sweep of her long, ivory skirt, “This is one of the more amusing spells we do. It’s always fascinating to see how a person’s mind works - what memories they think are important and what information they squirrel away. I wonder what secrets this pretty boy keeps under that lovely wavy hair?”
She put out a slender hand and stroked Xander’s head, and Penn had to fight not to bare his fangs at her.
Tomas’ eyes were shining again, and he and Deborah exchanged thoroughly amused glances that Penn didn’t notice.
His eyes were riveted on the tall, lean body stretched out on the floor, surrounded by thick, crimson blankets. Easy to tell, when he was completely relaxed and loosely spread out by the spell of complete unconsciousness that Deborah had prepared - and given a token of to each of them, just in case one of them ran in to William unexpectedly - that Xander wasn’t the shuffling, awkward, small human that he tried to look like.
He had broad shoulders and long legs, sweet young muscles and a pretty face, and Penn was utterly confused as to why the boy tried to be invisible and why the many girls that seemed to be constantly around him looked over him like he wasn’t there.
They didn’t even try to see through the boy’s sad excuse for a disguise - really, he hunched his shoulders and made dumb remarks and it had completely taken his little group of ‘friends’ in.
What odd children. How they had ever been observant enough to keep a Hellmouth protected and unclaimed was beyond him.
“We should start - Father will be waking soon, and can give us some information on William. We should have something more ready and waiting for him,” Deborah’s delicate voice broke into his thoughts.
“Yes,” he nodded, and watched closely as she and Tomas began to mark arcane symbols on the floor around his - around the boy, using black chalk on the white marble. The marks began to glow dully as Deborah chanted under her breath, thin lines of faintly scented smoke rising from them.
On the blankets, Xander twitched and let out a little moan.
“No nightmares,” Tomas said gently, reaching out and tracing his finger in a sigil over Xander’s forehead. “No bad dreams, little boy. Think of William - think of Spike. Think of the friend he told you about, think of the games he told you he played.”
“Kittens,” Xander mumbled, and a glowing window opened above him, showing a shabby, dark room with a bed folded out of a couch, with Xander sprawled over it, chewing on a piece of pizza, while William was draped upside-down over an orangey-red armchair nearby.
Both of the young ones looked bored out of their minds.
“I hate rainy evenings,” Xander groaned, rolling onto his back and gnawing on the last bit of crust in his hand. “Can’t really go anywhere - Buffy won’t patrol, and the Bronze’ll either be so jam-packed full you can’t move, or empty. Nothing good is playing at the movies, either.”
“Wanna play poker?” William asked, not even opening his eyes.
“Not playing anything with you; you cheat,” the boy instantly replied.
“Want me to teach you how to cheat at poker?” William cracked open one blue eye to glare at him.
“Why, so Buffy can get mad and throw things at me if I actually start to win?”
“You brats play for peanuts; why would she get mad?”
“She’s very competitive,” Xander said snottily, “And she doesn’t like it when she doesn’t win.”
William turned his head a little and opened both eyes. “Oh, yeah? Then - if I teach you good enough that she won’t realize you’re cheating, that ought to really set the bint’s hair on fire!”
“Exactly why do you want Buffy to be mad at me, Spike? Are you really that bored?”
“I’m always bloody bored,” William sighed, “This town is a waste of me unlife.”
“I’m sorry we don’t live up to your exciting standards,” Xander grinned a little, “Anyway, if you’re so bored, why don’t you go find some strangers to play poker with, win a little money off of them? We could go to that big paintball competition in LA if you can get the entry fees.”
William snorted. “Can’t get money from most strangers in this town unless I find some stupid humans. And those brats at the Bronze don’t count, they don’t know what poker is half the time. Only wanna play pool, and the tossers tell the new people not to play with me.”
“Find some demons to play with,” Xander offered, grinning at the idea of Spike’s former pool-shark victims warning away any fresh offerings.
“Won’t do no good for your fees,” William grumbled, “Demons only play for kittens.”
“What are ‘kittrens’?” Xander asked, giving him a raised eyebrow.
“Not ‘kittrens’, you silly berk, kittens. Y’know, lil’ bitty cats. Meow, mow, myowr?”
Xander stared at him. “Kittens?! What would a demon want with kittens?!”
“Guess they’re kind of a treat. Juicy and crunchy, and not all that easy for a demon t’get hold of.”
“They eat cute little kittens?” Xander gave William a definite stink-eye.
“Well, they sure don’t want them for cuddles,” William snarked back. “Heard they taste pretty good with that orange sauce you get at Japanese restaurants.”
“Ugh,” Xander made a disgusted face, “Thanks a lot, Spike! I won’t be able to have shrimp sauce for months!”
“Aw, sorry, mate,” William looked anything but sorry, his pretty face shining with glee. “Didn’t mean to ruin yer enjoyment of yer munchies, there!”
“I saw you petting a cat once,” Xander said, still shuddering a little, “I always thought you liked them. Why would you trade their babies off to get eaten?”
“I don’t like cats,” William protested, “You prolly just - just dreamed that you saw me pettin’ one! Anyway, guy I play poker with swaps ‘em for blood or ciggys or other stuff I need.”
“Wait until I tell Willow - she’ll whammy you!”
“Aw, c’mon, Xander,” William turned right side up and scowled at him. “Ya don’t gotta tell her nothin’ ‘bout it! Besides, I don’t think my mate really eats the damn things - he coos over ‘em too much and he’s always got some cat hair stuck on him somewhere. I think he takes the little buggers home and keeps ‘em. Hate to see how many of them he’s got crawlin’ round his place. Come to think of it, he does kinda smell like one o’ them little old ladies with a houseful of cats.”
“The ones that smell like tuna and cat pee? Yuck - I used to hate it when they came in the grocery stores where I worked. You could get fired for pinching your nose or making faces, but the managers never got too close. And if I had to carry their groceries out, their cars were usually ten times worse.”
William gave a delicate shudder. “Can’t even imagine. You’ve seen some horrors, pet. Anyway - if you don’t wanna play poker, and I ain’t headin’ to Clem’s in this rain, what do you wanna do?”
“I guess it’s time to get out Battleship,” Xander grinned, and William gave a truly heartfelt groan.
Then the window dissipated into a misty smoke, and Penn blinked.
“Is that all?”
“He said the name we were looking for,” Deborah smiled at him, “I would have loved to keep playing and find out his secrets for you, dear one, but Father will want the name immediately. Shall I keep him asleep and let you watch more, later?”
“Why on earth would I want to see more?” Penn gave her a very mild glare. “Don’t be silly, Deborah.”
“Of course, Gabriel,” she said, still smiling. “Shall I wake him now, or let him rest and awaken naturally?”
Penn frowned down at the boy. “Does it matter?”
“Well, it’s a bit traumatizing to be brought out of the sleep-spell abruptly; he’d be shaking and whimpering for a few hours, his nerves all flaring in little bursts of pain. But nothing serious, and it will wear off by morning. Or he can sleep until he wakes up in about ten hours, and he’ll be fine. More than fine, probably - it’s a very deep and restful sleep.”
“I suppose that would be best,” Penn said nonchalantly, moving to scoop up the tall, heavy young man with complete ease, “I’ll just put him in one of the bedrooms until he wakes. The Slayer will still protest this, of course, but the less she has to complain about, the better.”
“Of course,” Deborah nodded, and kept the smirk off of her pretty face until Penn left the room with his burden.
“Deborah,” Tomas scolded her gently, “That spell doesn’t traumatize someone at all. He’d wake up like he normally would if you brought him out of it.”
“I know that,” Deborah smiled sweetly at him, moving to clean up the symbols from the floor, “But Gabriel doesn’t.”
“You’re a wicked thing,” Tomas laughed, and started folding up the blankets.
*
“I liked being the bait,” Drusilla said dreamily, stretching out on the little loveseat she’d claimed as her own and dragged into her room, “But I’m rather bored now.”
Her companion didn’t answer, just gazed at her silently.
“It’s all very well for you, Miss Edith,” Drusilla snapped, “You already know where my sweet Prince is! You don’t have to lie about and wait and wonder.”
The doll did not reply.
“You could tell me, you know,” Drusilla said in her sweetest tone, “I would be just delighted to know, and I’ll have you a brand new dress made.”
Miss Edith said nothing.
“A lovely dress, in pink silk. With ruffles. And lace. And a matching hair ribbon… or would you prefer a clever little hat? Perhaps with feathers?” She tried to sweeten the pot.
China blue eyes stared back, silent.
“Or would you wish for a new tea set, instead? Fine bone china, white with blue flowers. Why, I’d add a blue silk tea-cozy!”
There was no answer.
“You’re such a stubborn creature!” Drusilla said petulantly, getting up and glaring at her doll, porcelain-pale nose to porcelain-pale nose. “Fine, a new dress and a new tea set, and I promise not to put holy water in your tea! What else could you possibly want?”
The doll gazed solemnly back at her.
“What do you mean, a naked boy-doll or no deal?!”
*
“William,” Angelus laughed, finally batting the pillow away and grabbing his Childe, rolling him onto the bed and himself on top of the squirming little brat, “stop being so silly and tell Sire where you are.”
“I won’t.” His Childe’s pretty chin went up, stubborn as always, his lovely mouth setting in a firm line.
“Now, Childe - how am I supposed to make love to you if you’re hiding away?” Angelus decided to try a different sort of temptation, ghosting his hand down his Childe’s bare side, just touching his skin. “I’ve been making you feel good, haven’t I? Don’t you want more?”
“Yer not that good at it, you tosser,” Spike growled, trying to squirm away from that hand and the desire that it stroked to life in his body - he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t waking up from this stupid dream and…
…and there was a crash, somewhere above him, and he and his Sire both jerked upright.
And then Spike was alone, in his cold bed, and there were footsteps in the crypt above him.
Heavy, stomping footsteps, and the Slayer’s voice yelling his name, her tone angry and worried, so something more was going on than them hunting him to interrogate him about Angelus and his bloody Childer.
Spike dragged himself out of bed, pulled on his loosest t-shirt - he’d still been wearing his jeans; guess Angelus’ dream-magic didn’t work for getting him completely starkers, although he really couldn’t remember if he’d gone to bed fully dressed or not, and now was not the time to worry about it.
He could hear Giles’ and Willow’s anxious voices, too muffled by the stone floor to make out their words.
He didn’t hear Xander, and that made his head tilt thoughtfully. Usually his Nummy Treat was right there with his friends whenever something was going on; it was pretty strange that he wasn’t.
After about five minutes, the footsteps and voices retreated and the crypt door slammed shut. Spike started up the ladder and hovered at the top for what seemed like an eternity, waiting to hear someone come back, but it was silent.
His instincts told him it was day outside; so unless they used a portal, none of his Vampire relations were going to be coming there. There was no scent of magic in the air, not even when he silently slid the deadbolts back and eased the trap door down a crack to get a better whiff.
No scent of a lurking demon or sorcerer or witch, and he would know if there was a disillusionment spell in action up there - Angelus and his merry little band of death had no idea how sensitive to magic he was; Drusilla would have known if she’d had any brains in her dear, scattered little mind but he didn’t think she’d ever figured it out.
Another advantage to mark down to his side - maybe there was some sort of weakness he could figure out, someway to use his sensitivity to take advantage of the others and get the hell out of Dodge like he wanted.
Without, of course, actually using any magic on his own - he hated even trying that. The few times Drusilla had talked him into it, the spells had worked but left him feeling like every hair on his body was on end and quivering - his nose hair, especially, had nearly driven him insane.
He’d been able to smell the spicy-sweet scent of magic so much more clearly after that, though - maybe there was a silver lining to that dark cloud.
He still wasn’t going to do it again, though. He’d almost go back to Angelus willingly before he’d do that.
Another few minutes of cautious waiting, and then his impatience got the best of him and he slithered out of his hiding place, out from under the heavy rug, and then gazed around his still-trashed crypt.
There was a piece of paper stuck to his mangled chair with a stake - Buffy’s ham-handed method of trying for intimidation. He rolled his eyes and pulled the stake out, tossing it aside and reading the paper.
His eyebrows shot up his forehead - so Nummy Treat wasn’t trying to assert his independence, huh? Actually missing. Only for a few hours, but in Sunnydale, that might as well be a few days.
Or decades.
Or a death sentence.
Hmm, and here he owed his pet a favor - little berk shouldn’t have spilled his guts to Angelus about Spike, but Spike knew he had benefited from it, anyway. So maybe he would help out, but he wasn’t actually going to follow the Slayer’s heated orders.
He’d do things on his own.
Now, let’s see - there was that little old Misfa demoness that lived across from the Watcher - Spike had always found it utterly amusing that one of Giles’ neighbors was a ‘creature of the night!’ like Buffy thought she was supposed to be killing, and no one had ever figured it out. He’d even seen Giles and Xander helping her with things, like carrying in her groceries or fetching her mail.
She did look like a little old lady, of course, but Spike had snapped to what she was in an instant, and she’d certainly known exactly what he was. He’d even sauntered over a few times and played bridge with her and her friends when he was beyond his usual boredom. She always gave him a nice cuppa and some biscuits.
She would have seen anything that went on, and prolly would tell him - but she would also know about Angelus’ stupid bounty and he wasn’t certain that she wouldn’t rat him out. Misfa demons were sweet, harmless little wrinkled things, always passing themselves off as old humans but she was really in the prime of her life and on a mate hunt.
Males of her kind were extremely hard to locate, and she and her ‘friends’ would actually all move into the same house and make a nest together if they found one, sharing him around between them and having a couple dozen babies - but they’d been looking for about two years with no luck and Angelus had Lucinda the Searcher with him.
Lucy was a blowhard, he was almost certain, but she still had a huge reputation in the demon and vampire circles for finding anything. Anything, as long as it wasn’t protected by powerful magic, and Misfa males didn’t have magic. They were just rare.
It would be a perfect request for her to make and Spike knew that for all their gentle, frail appearance, those three little females were strong as oxen and could hold him down with their pinky fingers while they got in touch with his damn Family.
‘Course, he also knew where a Misfa male was, and maybe it was time to use that information. That little shaky bloke who cleaned the library late at night could use three ladies taking care of him - he didn’t look very healthy and he smelled funny.
Spike had just been hanging on to the knowledge in case he needed it anyway - and with something so important to Ulla and her friends, he could get more than just information on what they might or might not have seen concerning Xander.
If he brought Ulla a mate, or told her where one was, he could get her to spy for him - she’d tell him everything that went on at Giles’ house, including what his stupid Family was up to!
He’d actually had a passing thought about it before, when he was trying to get out of Sunnydale before they found him, but he’d let it go in his panic -hadn’t cared what they were up to, so long as he got safely away.
Now, though - he couldn’t go anywhere else for fear of getting grabbed by the first demon that saw him - wouldn’t be easy, just getting through the streets to Ulla’s place, but he was pretty sure that he could manage enough of a disguise, and knew Sunnydale’s back ways well enough, that he could make it there and back to his crypt.
Ulla might even have a little bit of blood for him, and he was getting hungry.
Really hungry.
Spike took a deep breath, nodded his head decisively, and went back down into his hideaway to get ready.
He’d go to Ulla, and hope for the best.