Suki Blue Fiction

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Chapter 8

Angel put down his book and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need this. Darla and The Master were causing him enough trouble without Spike getting in on the act. “Come on then. Come in.”

“Don’t need an invitation, you git.” Spike stepped over the threshold and looked around the sparse room. “For a mansion, this is pretty shoddy, mate. Lick of paint wouldn’t hurt, you know?”

“For someone who clearly wants something, you’re really going about this all wrong,” Angel pointed out.

“Is that right? Come back with a bunch of flowers, shall I? Box of chocolates do you? Actually…” Spike dipped into one of the large pockets in his duster and pulled out a Snickers bar, “how about that?”

Angel growled. “I don’t like peanuts,” he reminded through gritted teeth. “I’m allergic.”

Spike grinned. “I remember.”

“What is it you want, Spike?” Angel bit off, his patience wearing dangerously thin.

“You know what I want.” The playful smirk abruptly vanished, leaving behind an expression Spike rarely showed to another. Complete and utter seriousness.

“You want my help,” Angel clarified, unable to keep the smugness out of his voice. “I gotta say, Spike, I’m not sure what I can do. If Dru’s decided, again, that she’d rather be anywhere but with you, then I don’t see what business it is of mine.”

Spike clenched his fists at his sides and slowly moved further into the room and towards Angel. “We’re family. Or did you forget again? Or is it that you forgot to tell Buffy. She know yet? About me? About what you did to Dru before you turned her? I’m sure she’d love to know what a prince you were.”

A surge of anger and suddenly Angel was towering over his Grandchilde. “You leave Buffy out of this.”

“Or what?” Spike lifted his chin defiantly. “What are you gonna do, Angelus? What can you do? I’ve heard all about your little problem. Seems you gained a soul and lost your balls. I bet The Slayer enjoys picking them up after you.”

He saw the fist coming long before it reached him, Angel’s punch unchanged from its typical sucker style. Spike didn’t bother to duck. He stood his ground and let it connect solidly with his jaw. He staggered back a few steps and his face changed back to its default expression – cocky with a side of ‘come get some’.

“Now there’s the old Angelus I know and despise. Much better.”

“Just get out, Spike.”

“Make me.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Angel’s face and, for just a moment, Spike smiled back.

But only for a moment.

**

It was still early by the time Xander and Buffy returned to the school. Between them, they had managed to dust five vamps. Or, more accurately, Buffy had dusted five and Xander had helped by spotting for her and shouting ‘Behind you!’ on a regular basis.

All in all, it had been a successful trip. Except for one thing. Xander hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Spike. There was a part of him that had been almost sure that he’d catch a distant glance at a shock of bright blond hair or even perhaps a whiff of tobacco and leather.

“Weird we didn’t see Angel,” Buffy commented as she took off her jacket and hung it on the back of one of the chairs.

That’s right, just because Angel was a creepy stalker didn’t mean that Spike was. Unless it was a vampire thing. Did they all do it?

Not that he really wanted to see Spike. Yes, Xander was old enough and mature enough to admit – not out loud – that Spike was an attractive man, but that didn’t mean he wanted him hanging around. Life was complicated as it was, without an undead stalker in the picture.

“Maybe you’ll see him tomorrow,” Willow said in a tone that was meant to soothe. “Did you see any vamps? Um, any other vamps?”

“Five,” Buffy answered. “All dust. No robes. You and Giles have any luck with the books?”

Willow shook her head. “I’m sure something will turn up.”

“As long as it’s not a body, that would be great,” Buffy said as she sat down and flicked quickly through a book without really looking at it.

“Ah-ha!!” Giles’ abrupt interruption was followed by him almost skipping out of his office. He stopped in front of the table and proudly laid down a large, red book, turning it around for Buffy to see. “Is this the symbol you saw?” he asked.

Buffy looked down and squinted. “Almost,” she said after a moment of internal debate. “Except, there wasn’t a big ring around the whole thing.”

Giles turned the book back around. “That…that’s…a coffee ring? More likely a Pepsi ring! Damn students, absolutely no respect for the sacrilege that is…”

Buffy rolled her eyes and made a continue talking motion with her hands.

“How on earth did it happen?!” Giles continued. “And when?!”

Xander did an excellent job of looking innocent. He’d been perfecting it for years now. Only Willow could see through it, and she sat opposite him with her lips pressed firmly together, stifling laughter and thereby threatening to blow the whole thing.

“Don’t have a seizure, Giles,” Buffy said. “It’s just a…” she stopped at the slightly murderous expression on Giles’ face. “So, symbol. That’s the one.”

“What does the book say, Giles?” Willow asked. “Does it tell us who this cult is? Is it bad? Should we run? Hide?”

“Take a permanent vacation?” Xander added.

Giles heaved a sigh and picked the book back up. “The symbol belonged to an ancient group of demons – not from this dimension, but a dimension long since destroyed – who worshipped the Goddess Staaaaaaafanaachucooo…”

Xander laughed out loud. “Say that to a Klingon and then duck the bitch-slap.”

“Staaaaa…” Giles began, thinking better of it when three faces desperately tried to hide smirks. “The Goddess was all powerful in her dimension, controlling everything from the weather to the…” Giles waved his hand in the air while he searched for an example, “football results. If they had football. Anyway, she was known as, and I’ll translate to prevent any further hilarity, The Virgin Goddess.”

“Not very original,” Willow complained.

Xander relaxed back in his chair. “Sometimes it’s better to go with an old favourite.”

“Yes, quite,” Giles remarked over his glasses. “The Goddess had a dimension wide following, but it was only her trusted minions that were able to look upon her and gain her favour.”

“Dare we ask how one becomes a favoured minion?” Buffy asked.

Giles placed the book back down and leafed through its pages. “By sacrificing the local virgins, I shouldn’t wonder.”

“Right.” Xander looked sceptical. Or possibly hungry. The two expressions were remarkably similar. “So what’s that got to do with vamps in fetching robes?”

“Well, hopefully, Xander, nothing much,” Giles said. “We can only hope that these vampires have discovered the symbol and have formed some sort of fanclub.”

“Then all we have to do is find them and do the cleanup, right?” Buffy asked, her right hand twitching slightly like it wanted to grip something wooden and pointy.

“Indeed.”

“And the alternative?” Willow asked. “There’s always an alternative. It’s bad, isn’t it? It’s always bad. Is it? Bad?”

When Giles hesitated, Xander quickly jumped in with a nervous laugh and plenty of fidgety fingers. “Come on, G-man. Don’t keep us in suspenders. What’s the what? The sky isn’t going to fall in, is it?” He hooked a thumb behind him. “Is Chicken Little standing back there?”

Giles sighed again. “The alternative is that these vampires have found a way to contact Staaaaaaafanaachucooo and are working towards bringing her to this dimension.”

Xander swallowed. That didn’t sound good for anyone – not just for virgins. “And then what would happen?”

“Then, I assume, The Virgin Goddess would want to show her gratitude.”

“She’d give out candy?” Buffy asked. “Trophies? A weekly subscription to People Magazine?”

Giles placed his hands on the table and leant on his knuckles, his face graven with concern. “She has…had, more power than we could ever conceive.”

“She could actually get stains out at low temperatures?” Buffy asked.

Giles ignored the remark. “She could block out the sun.”

**

Spike wiped the blood from his lip and watched, grin still firmly in place, as Angel did the same. “You ready for more yet, or shall I give you a bit more recovery time?”

“Go to hell, Spike.”

“No, ta. Not keen on flame grilled. But you feel free to take your tortured self there. Or are you there already, Angel?”

“Fuck you. You don’t know anything about me.”

Spike tipped back his head and laughed. “Oh, Angelus, I reckon I know you better than most.”

“It’s Angel now.” Angel raised his fists and got back into something resembling a very tired fighting stance.

If Spike was tired, he didn’t let it show. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving Angel away and sitting himself down on the couch. “You already said that. So, what’s with you and The Slayer? Strikes me as a tad odd.”

Angel opened his mouth to retort, changing his mind at the last moment and shutting his jaws again with a snap. “What do you mean odd? It’s not odd.”

Spike shrugged and pulled out a cigarette. “Well, you swing from being an evil fiend to a country boy that likes to stroke bunnies.”

Angel walked into Spike’s line of sight and pointed. “I do not stroke…oh, jeez, why am I bothering?”

“I mean, it’s one extreme to another with you, innit?” Spike continued. “If it were me I’d make myself scarce, not pally up with a bloody White Hat – and not just any White Hat, oh no, you have to go and throw yourself at a bloody Slayer. We used to kill Slayers.” A smug look crossed his face. “Oh, no, that was me.”

“Has anyone ever told you how irritating you are?” Angel said.

“A few people, yeah. But they only told me once.”

Angel turned his back and ran a hand through his hair. “Leave, Spike.”

“Not until you hear me out. Come on, pet. We both know you’ve got no patience and what with me finding myself at a loss, well, not got much else to… ”

“Go on, then,” Angel said as he flopped down in his armchair in a gesture that was both defeatist and dramatic.

“Right. Help me find Dru and give me some cash and, now that I think about it, a place to stay might be nice.”

“No. There’s no way you’re staying here.”

Spike tried the innocent look. He hadn’t perfected it quite as much as Xander had. “Oh, right. Just thought you’d prefer to keep an eye on me, that’s all. You know, make sure I don’t slit any throats while I’m here.”

“I’ll be doing that anyway. Look, I’ll do whatever I can to find Dru and…I’ll give you some cash to…”

Spike jumped in quickly. “How much?”

Angel shook his head and muttered to himself while he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out a clump of bills and kept them in his lap. “I’ll help you find Dru,” he repeated, “but you stay away from Buffy. And if you so much as sniff at a human being, I’ll cut off more than your cash flow.”

Spike still grinned, despite the fact that he wasn’t sure if he’d won or lost. “And I’m supposed to survive how? Ketchup might be the same colour, mate, but it doesn’t quite cut it.”

“I’ll give you a contact. You can get it by the bag.”

“What, pig? Cow? Horse?”

Angel hesitated. “Pig.”

“Fucking disgusting! You live on that? No wonder you’ve got the strength of a kitten. And you expect me to…?”

“That’s the deal, Spike. Take it or leave it. You behave, we find Dru, and then you get the hell away from me and never come back.”

Spike knew he was pushing it and wisely backed down. So far Angel had been a complete pushover, a far cry from the former Angelus. It was sad to see.

But, for now, it was working to Spike’s advantage. “Fine.” He held out his hand and grinned when Angel reluctantly handed over the cash. “Where do we start?”
 

TBC...