Out of The Past - Chapter Five
Ahhh!!! I’m very late posting I'm so sorry! Just got home from Bank Holiday fun parking on the M25 grrrr!
Another chapter of Out of The Past for you today - I have another almost ready to post, it will appear on my own LJ as will the final ones in the next two weeks. I do hope you enjoy chapter five!
Chapter five
This chapter runs parallel with the last hence the Dru cameo ^_^ it’ll make sense when you read it I promise. And I have moved their nest to the mansion a wee bit sooner that in the show purely for Spike stalking purposes.
Many thanks to Megan for her hard work betaing this for me!
The sound of a door clicking shut was all it took to pull him from a deep healing sleep.
A scream of horror clawed at his throat for escape. Unable to stop himself, he croaked out a noise that might have sounded like a scream, but was muted in its pain. It went unnoticed and unremarked by the two women in the adjoining room. Their focus was on the door that their friend had just slipped out off. He levered himself up and cleared his throat. Unseen, he swung his feet around and gingerly rose to his feet. He looked around for some water, anything to clear the taste of wood chips from his mouth.
“Oh my God!”
The breathless voice of excitement made him jump nearly out of his skin. His fingers weak, he dropped the glass he had filled.
“You’re awake!” Gwen exclaimed. “Here, let us.” She ran forward and wrapped an arm around his waist and steadied him.
Willow pushed past them and picked up the glass. Filling it she handed it back to him. “Here you go. Are you feeling any better?” She chewed her lower lip in anxiety; the ashen man was pretty much the only connection to her childhood left alive, albeit a tenuous one and she really, really didn’t want to have to mourn him. As in essence she would be mourning the long lost age of innocence where the worst thing she had experienced was broken crayons of the yellow hue.
Mr Chase reached out a shaking hand and gently patted her on the shoulder. “I’m alive, it’s okay.” He knew all too well what the former redhead had been worrying over. He looked down at the silent woman supporting him. “If it hadn’t been for you, I just…” He trailed off, unable to put into words how thankful he was to her.
“It’s okay.” She gave him a squeeze as she helped him over to a chair. He sank down with a relieved sigh and gulped the water down thirstily.
“I can’t get rid of the taste…” He grimaced and tried not to remember exactly why. The nightmare of being trapped made a shiver of horror run down his spine, and he gulped convulsively.
Willow wrung her hands, her face twisted in sympathy and concern. “Oh wait, maybe…” She dug in her jean pockets and with a squeak of triumph pulled out a crushed packet of gum. “Here.” She thrust a piece into Cordelia’s father’s hand. “It might get the gross taste out of your err…mouth.”
He took it with a nod of thanks, anything to stop that gag reflex. “Where’s everyone gone?”
Gwen shook her long hair back over her shoulders. “Buffy’s gone to check on Angelus at the mansion.” She grinned at Mr Chase as he nodded. “And to check on a certain vamp she might have a yen for too. The others have gone to set up in the shop ready for Drusilla. And Roger, well…he was watching over you for a while but then headed out somewhere.”
“Okay.” The tired man nodded, he knew where the older man had gone and he hoped that it saved Roger’s son and, fingers crossed, many others. He suddenly felt a hundred years old; his body ached and his head was pounding. All bases were apparently covered. He glanced over at the bag which contained the crystals and sighed; it was time for him to go too. He had someone to see.
Willow reached over and took the empty glass out of his hands. Her face filled with sorrow. “You’re going now, aren’t you?”
Mr Chase stared at her; she really was an amazing woman. A constant surprise to him and all the others who had known her from childhood. If he’d been asked then which of the kids would have been a survivor, he would have laid all his money on his Cordelia, not the gentle shy redhead who had always been in the shadows. He laid a hand over her freckled one and gave it a squeeze.
“I have to go. There isn’t much I can do now, everyone has their roles and well…I just want to go to them. I am too tired and old.” He sighed.
Willow nodded. Lithely rising to her feet, she went to the all important bag and pulled out a velvet pouch. She handed it to him with a wry smile.
Gwen sauntered over to the two of them and watched as he took out the precious crystal and stared at it. “See you on the flip side, buddy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun was low on the horizon as she made her way up the road to the mansion.
It was a route long since etched on her memory; it was a familiar path and one she had never thought she would trace again in her lifetime. She paused briefly at the spot where Xander would one day soon burst out clutching a sword and a mouthful of half truths if they all failed and history repeated itself, and smiled ruefully. She waited a breathless moment, foolishly wondering if he would appear; with a sad laugh, Buffy shook her head and carried on walking towards the place she hated with a fiery vengeance.
The windows were shuttered against the now waning sun, making the place appear forbidding and abandoned. She knew better. Inside were a bunch of vamps and there was only one she wanted to see. Shouldering her rucksack she scrambled up the drive and quickly made for the side of the building and the sunken courtyard. She was counting on the shady place being a haven for Spike. He had often told her he would retreat there in the wheel chair for a bit of peace and quiet. He tried to ignore the tugging insistence of Morpheus on his body; exhaustion had become his constant companion. He couldn’t sleep not with her betrayal and his heartbreak.
Buffy scanned the area; all was quiet for now. She picked her spot carefully, unwilling to be detected until she was ready to make her presence known to Spike. Sitting down by the corner of the railings that framed the area above the courtyard garden, she dug in her pack for the talisman Willow had created for her. Pulling a face at the stinky herbage smells leaking out of the cloth bag, she pulled it over her head, and in an instant all scent and mystical vibrations that her slayer side emanated were suppressed. She curled her legs under her and settled in to wait for him.
It didn’t take long.
Buffy had figured it would be a while before they would come face to face. She had tried to prepare herself for it for so long. But there were no words to explain the euphoria her body was channelling. And on a really shallow, girly OMG squeeage moment, man he was just so handsome.
She’d forgotten how full his lips were, the lower was begging for her to bite and nibble on it. His eyes…there was no easy way to describe the colour-myriad shades of blue maybe? But the ‘cheekbones of yum,’ she knew she was channelling her inner Valley Girl. But damn they were gorgeous. It wasn’t fair a guy had them and was so utterly oblivious of their lethal charm. Buffy crouched down, her eyes never leaving his beloved and much missed form. She wanted to climb down into the shady courtyard and throw herself into his arms, but restrained herself. At this point in time if she did that he might bite her and if not, he might pass out from shock at having a lap full of happy Slayer.
No, she had to be a good little slayer. Today was about recon. They needed more information about Angelus’s whereabouts on this day if Robin and the others were to succeed. She had been near useless when they had been trying to map his routine at this point in history. Buffy shifted slightly on her feet, her knees were beginning to cramp. She hated waiting; she wanted to get into some action and a good Angelus ass kicking would make the aches go away.
“Bastard.” Spike swore under his breath. Buffy managed to muffle an eep of shock. Had he been picking up on her thoughts? Spike glanced back into the mansion and growled. Buffy frowned and then focused. Ewww, sounds of Dru faking an orgasm. She had to be faking it hadn’t she no one screamed that loud during sex? Buffy pouted it wasn’t fair that Dru was getting a happy when she couldn’t remember the last time she had. She shifted again to see if she could see the two of them in action and then mentally smacked herself. Ick! Who wants to see Dru’s scrawny body and Angel’s ass bobbing up and down?
Poor Spike… Buffy stared down at him. Compassion filling her hazel eyes as he ground his teeth in frustration. Spike was imprisoned in a nightmare. Both starved of food and love, forced to bear witness to the union of his hated Grandsire and Dru. Buffy wanted to go down and give him a hug. But now wasn’t the time. Instead she settled in for a long night.
It seemed like hours had passed. Spike was still in the courtyard, chain-smoking his way into a depression and with Buffy waiting for Angelus to appear, but so far it sounded like they had decided on staying in for a bit longer. Maybe it was time to head back to the hotel and the others and plan their next steps. Buffy glanced at her watch; it was nearly time for the sun to set.
“Sod it.” Spike threw the cigarette he had been puffing on into the small fountain attached to the wall at the base of the stairs and began to make his was back.
Buffy mentally groaned. He was leaving without her getting a chance to give him her first present. Glancing around desperately for something to attract his attention without exposing her position she spotted the small rock. Her fingers wrapped around it and she threw it at the back of his chair. ‘Oh crap.’ Buffy winced as her aim went wide and the small rock smacked him in the back of the head.
“Oi!” Spike grabbed the back of his head and rubbed it fiercely. “What the bloody hell?”
She uttered a prayer of thanks to Willow for the concealment spell masking her slayer signature. It had served her well so far as she had stalked…err…watched over him. She had been able to gaze at Spike unnoticed for almost two hours.
Buffy watched as he rolled the wheelchair nearer to the centre of the courtyard. His face was cast in shadows now but she could read him just as easily. He was pissed off and starving. She could see the sharp lines of his collar bones jutting through the thin fabric of his T-Shirt; Dru was obviously too busy screwing Angelus to care about Spike. Buffy was prepared for that. She reached into the duffel at her feet and pulled out the brown bag that she’d put in there earlier.
“Enjoy,” she whispered and threw down the bag into Spike’s lap and waited. Her breath held as he swore and recoiled in shock. He looked up at where she was hidden, rolling forward slightly to try and get a better look. Spike moved into the light and squinted up.
“Sodding gits, chucking your rubbish at me,” he growled. His shoulders braced for more abuse, he waited for another rock to wend its way over the railing.
Buffy bit her lower lip; she was desperate to say something, anything just to hear his voice again, but instead, waited for him to open the bag. Which he did in seconds, he was never a patient one.
“What the bloody…?” A very confused vampire pulled out the two precious bags of her blood. It had taken a couple of days for Willow to draw enough from her to make it worthwhile and, wooziness aside, she wasn’t sorry she had done it. He looked like a concentration camp victim, almost as bad as the time he came to Giles’ apartment asking for refuge from the Initiative. His face was drawn and pale except for where the burns stood out in relief on his jaw line. His eyes were bruised shadows and his lips chapped and dry. Guilt filled her, it was her fault he was in this position, she had put him in the chair and Buffy wanted to cry at the sight of the usually potent vampire struck so low. She hated herself and she hated his family for not looking after him better.
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Spike sank his teeth into the first plastic bag. He figured it was one of the minions tossing scraps to the invalid and having a good laugh at his expense. But as the first delicious taste of powerful blood hit his parched tongue, Spike knew that something odd was up. This was Slayer blood; he had tasted it once years ago and had never forgotten it. He drained the bag in seconds and then snarled greedily as he sank his teeth into the second bag. He didn’t care why it had been chucked at him, all he cared about was the warmth flooding through his wasted limbs. Small tingles of electricity bucked through his system as nerves began to knit together, then his toes twitched as the prickles of healing made themselves known.
“God that is manna from heaven.” He looked up at the sky. “Literally.” Spike couldn’t sense anything mortal nearby, all he could feel where the minions and the shagnasties going at it again for a third time. Buffy watched him as he wheeled the chair around and looked up at the stairs and along the railings. She held her breath waiting to see if he could spot her, but his eyes scanned past her hiding place without missing a beat. She let out a sigh of relief; it wasn’t time. They needed to get to Dru first and then Angelus and if Spike sensed her now it would all be over. But she needed him fed and healing. It might not serve any purpose except to make him feel better but it was enough for her. She needed him focused on what she eventually would have to say to him and not mired in gloom over his injuries.
“Sod it.” Spike glared down at the empty bags, utterly confused and bewildered. He had no idea who was chucking slayer blood at unsuspecting vamps, but he wasn’t going to kick up a hissy fit over it. His mind ticking over, he wondered if one of the more loyal minions had found slayer reserves in the local hospital banked there incase the chit was badly hurt. If so then it would make sense as to why she/he had lobbed it over the railing rather than give it to him in front of the others. The poof would’ve snagged it and guzzled it down for himself, old tosser that he was. Spike nodded. That was it, it had to be, as the other option was that the Slayer was feeding him and that train of thought would lead to him moving into a padded cell and befriending a cockroach and calling it Larry. He chuckled, surprising himself; it seemed like forever since he had laughed.
Buffy wondered what he was thinking about, but it was good to see the misery lift and a laugh escape his lips. He looked better already and she wondered if he had even noticed that his feet had twitched and moved. She doubted it as he was still staring at the empty bags of blood and musing over them before tucking them away in the depths of his duster pockets.
Before Buffy could give in to the desire to do anything else, she walked out of the French doors. ‘It was going to be a long night, longer for some than others.’ She grinned at the soon to be dusty fate of Drusilla.
~~~~~~~~~~
He rapped on the door to the office of his younger version.
“Come in.”
Mr Chase pushed the door open and looked at himself sitting behind his desk surrounded by golfing trophies and pictures of himself with local luminaries. He shook his head at the foolishness that had been his greedy, arrogant younger self.
“You…you…oh God, what are you? Am I having a stroke or something? What the hell!” The man behind the desk screamed and reached for a paperweight and threw it at his younger and less care worn incarnation. With another shriek he scrambled up and threw himself at the closed window behind him. His fingers clawed at the glass as he tried to escape his doppelganger. He was now sobbing and in danger of losing bladder control.
“Quit it and listen. We need a talk about the matter of unpaid taxes, you ass!”
“What?” The hysterical version of himself whipped around, a denial burning on his lips.
“Don’t even say it. I am you. An older version of you and I know everything. Even the little affair you are having with your P.A, which by the way ends tonight. Sit down, shut up and listen to me.”
“How…when…where…what are you?”
“I just told you! I am you from a few years in the future. Hmmm, how shall I prove it? Two accounts in the Cayman Islands in your wife and daughter’s names with oh… about one million a piece in them.” He paused for a moment and tapped the crystal he was holding to his lips. “What else? Oh yes. If you don’t shape up and now! Cordelia will die and so will our wife. And I am not letting that happen again!” He pinned the now gaping man with a steely glare. “So are we talking or are you going to carry on screaming like a girl?”
“Talking. Oh God, please, talking…”
A/N And there we have today's chapter I do hope everyone enjoyed the first sighting of Spike much more to come
I'm off to crash out and recover from the mayhem of venturing out of the house on the August Bank Holiday!
Another chapter of Out of The Past for you today - I have another almost ready to post, it will appear on my own LJ as will the final ones in the next two weeks. I do hope you enjoy chapter five!
Chapter five
This chapter runs parallel with the last hence the Dru cameo ^_^ it’ll make sense when you read it I promise. And I have moved their nest to the mansion a wee bit sooner that in the show purely for Spike stalking purposes.
Many thanks to Megan for her hard work betaing this for me!
The sound of a door clicking shut was all it took to pull him from a deep healing sleep.
A scream of horror clawed at his throat for escape. Unable to stop himself, he croaked out a noise that might have sounded like a scream, but was muted in its pain. It went unnoticed and unremarked by the two women in the adjoining room. Their focus was on the door that their friend had just slipped out off. He levered himself up and cleared his throat. Unseen, he swung his feet around and gingerly rose to his feet. He looked around for some water, anything to clear the taste of wood chips from his mouth.
“Oh my God!”
The breathless voice of excitement made him jump nearly out of his skin. His fingers weak, he dropped the glass he had filled.
“You’re awake!” Gwen exclaimed. “Here, let us.” She ran forward and wrapped an arm around his waist and steadied him.
Willow pushed past them and picked up the glass. Filling it she handed it back to him. “Here you go. Are you feeling any better?” She chewed her lower lip in anxiety; the ashen man was pretty much the only connection to her childhood left alive, albeit a tenuous one and she really, really didn’t want to have to mourn him. As in essence she would be mourning the long lost age of innocence where the worst thing she had experienced was broken crayons of the yellow hue.
Mr Chase reached out a shaking hand and gently patted her on the shoulder. “I’m alive, it’s okay.” He knew all too well what the former redhead had been worrying over. He looked down at the silent woman supporting him. “If it hadn’t been for you, I just…” He trailed off, unable to put into words how thankful he was to her.
“It’s okay.” She gave him a squeeze as she helped him over to a chair. He sank down with a relieved sigh and gulped the water down thirstily.
“I can’t get rid of the taste…” He grimaced and tried not to remember exactly why. The nightmare of being trapped made a shiver of horror run down his spine, and he gulped convulsively.
Willow wrung her hands, her face twisted in sympathy and concern. “Oh wait, maybe…” She dug in her jean pockets and with a squeak of triumph pulled out a crushed packet of gum. “Here.” She thrust a piece into Cordelia’s father’s hand. “It might get the gross taste out of your err…mouth.”
He took it with a nod of thanks, anything to stop that gag reflex. “Where’s everyone gone?”
Gwen shook her long hair back over her shoulders. “Buffy’s gone to check on Angelus at the mansion.” She grinned at Mr Chase as he nodded. “And to check on a certain vamp she might have a yen for too. The others have gone to set up in the shop ready for Drusilla. And Roger, well…he was watching over you for a while but then headed out somewhere.”
“Okay.” The tired man nodded, he knew where the older man had gone and he hoped that it saved Roger’s son and, fingers crossed, many others. He suddenly felt a hundred years old; his body ached and his head was pounding. All bases were apparently covered. He glanced over at the bag which contained the crystals and sighed; it was time for him to go too. He had someone to see.
Willow reached over and took the empty glass out of his hands. Her face filled with sorrow. “You’re going now, aren’t you?”
Mr Chase stared at her; she really was an amazing woman. A constant surprise to him and all the others who had known her from childhood. If he’d been asked then which of the kids would have been a survivor, he would have laid all his money on his Cordelia, not the gentle shy redhead who had always been in the shadows. He laid a hand over her freckled one and gave it a squeeze.
“I have to go. There isn’t much I can do now, everyone has their roles and well…I just want to go to them. I am too tired and old.” He sighed.
Willow nodded. Lithely rising to her feet, she went to the all important bag and pulled out a velvet pouch. She handed it to him with a wry smile.
Gwen sauntered over to the two of them and watched as he took out the precious crystal and stared at it. “See you on the flip side, buddy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun was low on the horizon as she made her way up the road to the mansion.
It was a route long since etched on her memory; it was a familiar path and one she had never thought she would trace again in her lifetime. She paused briefly at the spot where Xander would one day soon burst out clutching a sword and a mouthful of half truths if they all failed and history repeated itself, and smiled ruefully. She waited a breathless moment, foolishly wondering if he would appear; with a sad laugh, Buffy shook her head and carried on walking towards the place she hated with a fiery vengeance.
The windows were shuttered against the now waning sun, making the place appear forbidding and abandoned. She knew better. Inside were a bunch of vamps and there was only one she wanted to see. Shouldering her rucksack she scrambled up the drive and quickly made for the side of the building and the sunken courtyard. She was counting on the shady place being a haven for Spike. He had often told her he would retreat there in the wheel chair for a bit of peace and quiet. He tried to ignore the tugging insistence of Morpheus on his body; exhaustion had become his constant companion. He couldn’t sleep not with her betrayal and his heartbreak.
Buffy scanned the area; all was quiet for now. She picked her spot carefully, unwilling to be detected until she was ready to make her presence known to Spike. Sitting down by the corner of the railings that framed the area above the courtyard garden, she dug in her pack for the talisman Willow had created for her. Pulling a face at the stinky herbage smells leaking out of the cloth bag, she pulled it over her head, and in an instant all scent and mystical vibrations that her slayer side emanated were suppressed. She curled her legs under her and settled in to wait for him.
It didn’t take long.
Buffy had figured it would be a while before they would come face to face. She had tried to prepare herself for it for so long. But there were no words to explain the euphoria her body was channelling. And on a really shallow, girly OMG squeeage moment, man he was just so handsome.
She’d forgotten how full his lips were, the lower was begging for her to bite and nibble on it. His eyes…there was no easy way to describe the colour-myriad shades of blue maybe? But the ‘cheekbones of yum,’ she knew she was channelling her inner Valley Girl. But damn they were gorgeous. It wasn’t fair a guy had them and was so utterly oblivious of their lethal charm. Buffy crouched down, her eyes never leaving his beloved and much missed form. She wanted to climb down into the shady courtyard and throw herself into his arms, but restrained herself. At this point in time if she did that he might bite her and if not, he might pass out from shock at having a lap full of happy Slayer.
No, she had to be a good little slayer. Today was about recon. They needed more information about Angelus’s whereabouts on this day if Robin and the others were to succeed. She had been near useless when they had been trying to map his routine at this point in history. Buffy shifted slightly on her feet, her knees were beginning to cramp. She hated waiting; she wanted to get into some action and a good Angelus ass kicking would make the aches go away.
“Bastard.” Spike swore under his breath. Buffy managed to muffle an eep of shock. Had he been picking up on her thoughts? Spike glanced back into the mansion and growled. Buffy frowned and then focused. Ewww, sounds of Dru faking an orgasm. She had to be faking it hadn’t she no one screamed that loud during sex? Buffy pouted it wasn’t fair that Dru was getting a happy when she couldn’t remember the last time she had. She shifted again to see if she could see the two of them in action and then mentally smacked herself. Ick! Who wants to see Dru’s scrawny body and Angel’s ass bobbing up and down?
Poor Spike… Buffy stared down at him. Compassion filling her hazel eyes as he ground his teeth in frustration. Spike was imprisoned in a nightmare. Both starved of food and love, forced to bear witness to the union of his hated Grandsire and Dru. Buffy wanted to go down and give him a hug. But now wasn’t the time. Instead she settled in for a long night.
It seemed like hours had passed. Spike was still in the courtyard, chain-smoking his way into a depression and with Buffy waiting for Angelus to appear, but so far it sounded like they had decided on staying in for a bit longer. Maybe it was time to head back to the hotel and the others and plan their next steps. Buffy glanced at her watch; it was nearly time for the sun to set.
“Sod it.” Spike threw the cigarette he had been puffing on into the small fountain attached to the wall at the base of the stairs and began to make his was back.
Buffy mentally groaned. He was leaving without her getting a chance to give him her first present. Glancing around desperately for something to attract his attention without exposing her position she spotted the small rock. Her fingers wrapped around it and she threw it at the back of his chair. ‘Oh crap.’ Buffy winced as her aim went wide and the small rock smacked him in the back of the head.
“Oi!” Spike grabbed the back of his head and rubbed it fiercely. “What the bloody hell?”
She uttered a prayer of thanks to Willow for the concealment spell masking her slayer signature. It had served her well so far as she had stalked…err…watched over him. She had been able to gaze at Spike unnoticed for almost two hours.
Buffy watched as he rolled the wheelchair nearer to the centre of the courtyard. His face was cast in shadows now but she could read him just as easily. He was pissed off and starving. She could see the sharp lines of his collar bones jutting through the thin fabric of his T-Shirt; Dru was obviously too busy screwing Angelus to care about Spike. Buffy was prepared for that. She reached into the duffel at her feet and pulled out the brown bag that she’d put in there earlier.
“Enjoy,” she whispered and threw down the bag into Spike’s lap and waited. Her breath held as he swore and recoiled in shock. He looked up at where she was hidden, rolling forward slightly to try and get a better look. Spike moved into the light and squinted up.
“Sodding gits, chucking your rubbish at me,” he growled. His shoulders braced for more abuse, he waited for another rock to wend its way over the railing.
Buffy bit her lower lip; she was desperate to say something, anything just to hear his voice again, but instead, waited for him to open the bag. Which he did in seconds, he was never a patient one.
“What the bloody…?” A very confused vampire pulled out the two precious bags of her blood. It had taken a couple of days for Willow to draw enough from her to make it worthwhile and, wooziness aside, she wasn’t sorry she had done it. He looked like a concentration camp victim, almost as bad as the time he came to Giles’ apartment asking for refuge from the Initiative. His face was drawn and pale except for where the burns stood out in relief on his jaw line. His eyes were bruised shadows and his lips chapped and dry. Guilt filled her, it was her fault he was in this position, she had put him in the chair and Buffy wanted to cry at the sight of the usually potent vampire struck so low. She hated herself and she hated his family for not looking after him better.
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Spike sank his teeth into the first plastic bag. He figured it was one of the minions tossing scraps to the invalid and having a good laugh at his expense. But as the first delicious taste of powerful blood hit his parched tongue, Spike knew that something odd was up. This was Slayer blood; he had tasted it once years ago and had never forgotten it. He drained the bag in seconds and then snarled greedily as he sank his teeth into the second bag. He didn’t care why it had been chucked at him, all he cared about was the warmth flooding through his wasted limbs. Small tingles of electricity bucked through his system as nerves began to knit together, then his toes twitched as the prickles of healing made themselves known.
“God that is manna from heaven.” He looked up at the sky. “Literally.” Spike couldn’t sense anything mortal nearby, all he could feel where the minions and the shagnasties going at it again for a third time. Buffy watched him as he wheeled the chair around and looked up at the stairs and along the railings. She held her breath waiting to see if he could spot her, but his eyes scanned past her hiding place without missing a beat. She let out a sigh of relief; it wasn’t time. They needed to get to Dru first and then Angelus and if Spike sensed her now it would all be over. But she needed him fed and healing. It might not serve any purpose except to make him feel better but it was enough for her. She needed him focused on what she eventually would have to say to him and not mired in gloom over his injuries.
“Sod it.” Spike glared down at the empty bags, utterly confused and bewildered. He had no idea who was chucking slayer blood at unsuspecting vamps, but he wasn’t going to kick up a hissy fit over it. His mind ticking over, he wondered if one of the more loyal minions had found slayer reserves in the local hospital banked there incase the chit was badly hurt. If so then it would make sense as to why she/he had lobbed it over the railing rather than give it to him in front of the others. The poof would’ve snagged it and guzzled it down for himself, old tosser that he was. Spike nodded. That was it, it had to be, as the other option was that the Slayer was feeding him and that train of thought would lead to him moving into a padded cell and befriending a cockroach and calling it Larry. He chuckled, surprising himself; it seemed like forever since he had laughed.
Buffy wondered what he was thinking about, but it was good to see the misery lift and a laugh escape his lips. He looked better already and she wondered if he had even noticed that his feet had twitched and moved. She doubted it as he was still staring at the empty bags of blood and musing over them before tucking them away in the depths of his duster pockets.
Before Buffy could give in to the desire to do anything else, she walked out of the French doors. ‘It was going to be a long night, longer for some than others.’ She grinned at the soon to be dusty fate of Drusilla.
~~~~~~~~~~
He rapped on the door to the office of his younger version.
“Come in.”
Mr Chase pushed the door open and looked at himself sitting behind his desk surrounded by golfing trophies and pictures of himself with local luminaries. He shook his head at the foolishness that had been his greedy, arrogant younger self.
“You…you…oh God, what are you? Am I having a stroke or something? What the hell!” The man behind the desk screamed and reached for a paperweight and threw it at his younger and less care worn incarnation. With another shriek he scrambled up and threw himself at the closed window behind him. His fingers clawed at the glass as he tried to escape his doppelganger. He was now sobbing and in danger of losing bladder control.
“Quit it and listen. We need a talk about the matter of unpaid taxes, you ass!”
“What?” The hysterical version of himself whipped around, a denial burning on his lips.
“Don’t even say it. I am you. An older version of you and I know everything. Even the little affair you are having with your P.A, which by the way ends tonight. Sit down, shut up and listen to me.”
“How…when…where…what are you?”
“I just told you! I am you from a few years in the future. Hmmm, how shall I prove it? Two accounts in the Cayman Islands in your wife and daughter’s names with oh… about one million a piece in them.” He paused for a moment and tapped the crystal he was holding to his lips. “What else? Oh yes. If you don’t shape up and now! Cordelia will die and so will our wife. And I am not letting that happen again!” He pinned the now gaping man with a steely glare. “So are we talking or are you going to carry on screaming like a girl?”
“Talking. Oh God, please, talking…”
A/N And there we have today's chapter I do hope everyone enjoyed the first sighting of Spike much more to come
I'm off to crash out and recover from the mayhem of venturing out of the house on the August Bank Holiday!