Chapter 7

"You think you know. What you are, what's to come... you haven't even begun."

Dracula intoned the words seductively, causing Buffy's skin to prickle with electric excitement.

"Your power is rooted in darkness."

Spike stood behind her and ran his blunt teeth along her neck. Buffy arched her body in response, then turned to kiss him fully.

"Nothing you can do now, girl."

Doc's pitch-black eyes seemed luminescent. He placidly smiled and circled her with a knife.

Buffy woke from her dream, The Dream, sweating and discomfited. Same thing every night. She should really call Giles and tell him about it; it might be one of those prophetic Slayer dreams. But there were certain elements that she didn't feel quite ready to share. Like the part where she was playing kissy-face with Spike… and liking it.

"Uhhhh." Buffy looked at the alarm on her bedside table. Almost time to get up anyway. The Council meeting began at 9am sharp at her house. Considering how determined they were to have their own little interview with a vampire, they weren't very perceptive about scheduling issues. Hello? Vamps sleep during the day you morons! She'd be lucky if Spike even managed to make it over at all without bursting into flames. Then there was their little discussion last night. Oh boy. That had gone ever so well. Willow's words mocked her: "I don't think you'll have any problem getting him to do anything you want."

Yeah right.

***

Buffy emerged from the shower feeling refreshed. She almost felt happy. Strange, considering everything that had happened and what she would be facing in about… she glanced at her alarm… about forty-five minutes.

Crap.

Buffy began toweling her hair more quickly and thought about breakfast and waking up Dawn. It was almost time for her sister to go to school and she hadn't heard one peep from her room.

"Dawnie!" Buffy knocked on the door to her sister's room. "Dawn! Wake up! Time to go to…"

The door swung open.

"Slayer."

A groggy, rather hungover vampire looked back at her. "Keep it down why don't you? 'Nough to wake the bleedin' dead."

"What are you doing here?"

"Well you told me the Council was having its meeting today, so I wanted to make sure I made it, for the Niblet's sake of course. I came over here last night."

Buffy sniffed the alcohol-laden air between them with distaste. "Was that before or after you fell into a vat of bourbon?"

"That's beside the point. Anyway, it's a good thing I did come over. Damn Council keeps banker's hours and I sure as hell don't. Niblet filled me in on the details. 'Nother good thing, seeing as you didn't tell me sod-all about our little meeting. How d'you expect me to show up Slayer, if you didn't even tell me the time?"

Buffy didn't have a response for that one. Admittedly, she hadn't been all that informative in their previous conversation, but Spike was… well, he'd distracted her with his obnoxiousness and…

Was he trying to look down her robe?

Buffy suddenly felt very unclothed. She pulled her robe tighter around her and peered into the room. "Is Dawn in there?"

"Nah. She's downstairs already. Cramming for a test or somethin'."

As if on cue, Dawn rushed up the stairs. "Buffy!" She looked uncomfortably at the vampire in her doorway. "Spike threw stones at my window last night and woke me up."

"I hope he didn't break anything."

"Give me some credit, Slayer. Unlike some people, I know my own strength."

"Fine. I have to get ready. The Council will be here in like a few minutes. You,"
she pointed accusingly at Spike, "you take a shower, now. They won't take you seriously if you smell like a liquor store. And you," she turned to Dawn, "I want you safely at school before they get here."

Spike sneered and made a little mock salute. "You are so damn lucky that I care about the Niblet, ya know? Or there's no way I'd take this bloody treatment from you, bein' ordered about like a sodding . . ."

Buffy's eyes softened. "Please Spike, just do it."

"Bitch." He slammed the door to Dawn's room.

Dawn smirked. "That went well."

"Don't start Dawn."

***

A knock at the door pierced the silence. The Council.

Buffy glanced around at the darkened room. All curtains drawn. There would be no flame-filled accidents in her living room. Good.

Drawing a deep breath to steady her nerves, Buffy opened the door and smiled confidently, even as her eyes burned from the bright morning light.

"Quentin. And…" Buffy looked at the familiar blonde woman with the rather severe hair.

"Lydia Higginbottom."

The unfortunately-named Ms. Higginbottom extended her hand.

"Dr. Lydia Higginbottom."

Oh, Dr. Lydia.

"Yes, we didn't meet formally last time, but of course I remember you." Buffy's eyes had begun to water. "Please come in, both of you."

Quentin Travers and Dr. Lydia Higginbottom exchanged looks and entered the darkened living room.

"Please, sit and make yourselves at home. I'll just turn on the lights so we can see each other." Buffy smiled pleasantly, although her hand shook as she flipped the switch.

"There, that's better."

Quentin scanned the now-illuminated living room. "I was hoping that William the Bloody--Spike--would be here also. We need to confirm the story of your resurrection."

Buffy looked nervously at her watch. "Spike will be here. He's just…"

"Just taking a bit of a shower's all." Spike sauntered down the stairs. "How nice to see both of you again, 'specially you Lydia. How've things been luv?"

Lydia, Dr. Higginbottom, blushed. "Very well thank you. I've…"

"Fabulous. So, what can I do for you, pet?"

"I… I."

Spike sat next to Lydia on the loveseat and draped his arm casually along the back. "Cat got your tongue, luv?"

"Spike," Buffy growled. "Help me make some refreshments for our guests." She rose and turned to Lydia and Quentin, smiling a forced smile. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea," they responded simultaneously, exchanging another significant look.

"Won't be a mo'." Spike winked at Lydia and followed Buffy into the kitchen.

Buffy slammed the tea canister on the counter. "Spike! What the hell do you think you're doing? You're flirting with her!"

"We're not jealous, are we pet?"

"No! Absolutely not, it's just…" She turned to face him. "Look this is really, really important, not just for me but for Dawn. Please don't screw this up."

"She wrote her thesis on me, you know." Spike opened the fridge and looked inside. "Wouldn't happen to have a packet of blood? I'm famished. Didn't eat last night."

"Uhhh. Look in the back."

"Got any Weetabix?"

"No."

"Your loss."

"She wrote her thesis on you?"

"Yup. I think she fancies me. Some people find me devastatingly attractive."

"No accounting for taste," Buffy hissed as she filled the tea kettle.

Spike's eyes turned frigid blue. "Look Slayer. I'm doing you a favour. Might be able to use Lydia's little infatuation to grease the wheels a bit, that's all."

"Whatever. Just try not to get drool on that tweedy English suit of hers."

***

"So, what is your relationship to the Slayer?" Lydia had her elegant pen poised, ready to take notes.

"Don't have one."

"Come now. Surely you don't expect us to believe that. Why else would you, a soulless creature, want to bring back a woman, who should be your natural mortal enemy, from the dead?"

Buffy cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Milk, lemon, sugar?"

"Milk please," again Quentin and Lydia responded in unison. Were they part of the Borg?

Quentin sipped his tea. "Mr. Bloody, you didn't answer Dr. Higginbottom's question. Please respond."

Spike smirked. "I've enjoyed our fights over the years. The kicking. The punching. The groping. The fangs and fury. Nothing more appealing than a woman with power." His eyes fixed on Lydia's and he leaned forward conspiratorially. "But you see, if someone's gonna kill the Slayer, I want it to be me."

Lydia blushed again and looked down at her clipboard. "So… so you feel a certain possessiveness about this Slayer. But if you're so eager to kill her, why haven't you done it yet?"

"The chip."

"That's right. The Initiative." Quentin nodded. "Highly effective technology."

"Yeah, too effective."

"So you'd kill again if the chip were removed?" Lydia asked.

Buffy paused in mid-sip of her tea. Spike's demeanor was bothering her. It was so cold. So detached. She dreaded the next answer. What if he answered yes? Would the Council stake him, right then and there?

"There's no chance of that happening, so why worry 'bout it pet? This bloody thing comes with a lifetime guarantee. 'Sides, I've got a pretty nice set up here. Help the Slayer, kill a few demons, get all the free blood I can drink. Good stuff too." He took a large gulp from his coffee mug. "Not as good as the real thing, but it'll do."

"I still don't completely understand why you'd repeatedly risk your own existence for her, Mr. Bloody." Lydia shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she watched Spike lick the remnants of the blood from his lips.

"Perhaps we could discuss it more fully Lydia, over dinner? Say tonight? Might feel more forthcoming about things if she weren't here," he gestured derisively at Buffy.

Buffy's eyes shot daggers, but she remained silent.

Lydia looked at Quentin nervously. "I… I."

"She agrees," Quentin intoned. "She'll have an armed escort of course."

"Of course." Spike relaxed into the love seat and allowed his fingers to brush the tweed of Lydia's suit. "How about Luigi's at 8? I promise I'll have lots to tell you. Anything you want to know."

Lydia, Dr. Higginbottom, trembled. "Fine."

Quentin took a final sip of his tea and rose from the couch. "Dr. Higginbottom and I must be going, but we'll see you tomorrow Ms. Summers, at the clinic. We have a lot of tests to do."

"Poking and prodding," Buffy muttered.

"Thank you for your hospitality. Ms. Summers, Mr. Bloody." Quentin nodded and departed, a rather flustered Lydia rushing after him.

Spike watched them leave and turned to Buffy. "I think that went well, don't you?"

Buffy punched him in the nose.

"Bloody hell!"

End of Part Seven



Continue to Part 8

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