Chapter 8 –
Trouble
You think your right
But you were wrong
You tried to take me
But I knew all along
You can take me for a ride
Cause I’m not a fool out
So you better run and hide
I’m trouble
Yeah trouble now
I’m trouble ya’ll
Pink
The fact that he was pissed
off was Spike’s first thought as he opened his eyes to find a chuckling Dylan
staring down at him. The fact the young man was laughing at him only made Spike
angrier but he refused to acknowledge it. Instead he grabbed his partner’s
proffered hand. Once he was on his feet he did a quick mental check for
injuries. Save for the bump from where his head hit the bench, he was okay.
He looked around at the
other men, hoping they had escaped injury. It wasn’t the case though. Although
Ted seemed to be fine, Bob wasn’t. Being closest to the gate he seemed to have
taken the brunt of the blast. His flesh was a fiery red from a burn that
started at his hand and trailed nearly along the entire length of his arm. A loud string of curses filled the air clearly
letting Bob’s anger be known.
Finally, Spike turned his
eyes to Dylan. Their eyes met before he ran his eyes over the younger man. Blood
dripped down Dylan’s arm and Spike followed the flow upwards to where a deep
gash had ripped through the shoulder of his t-shirt.
“You okay?” Spike asked,
taking Dylan’s arm. He pulled the shirt back, fingering the cut lightly.
“Yeah,” Dylan said, standing
up straighter. “I’m fine.”
It had to hurt but Spike
knew that Dylan wouldn’t admit it. He was the youngest of the group and often
took the other’s ribbing. Spike didn’t pursue it knowing that Dylan would lose
face with the others if he admitted to any kind of weakness.
“We ready to try this
again,” Bob said, nodding toward the crypt.
“Yeah, let’s go,” Spike
said. “I’ll go first.” He shifted to his game face for better vision. Dylan’s
eyes grew wide but the others only nodded at his decision and his change. With
the others following Spike crept down the steps leading into the tomb.
The air was cool but only
slightly musty smelling. Someone had to have opened the doors recently and let
in fresh air. There was no light at the bottom but candles had been placed on
small shelves on the walls. Spike pulled his lighter out and lit them so the
others could see. The sarcophagus was in the center of the space. On top of it
was placed settings for what appeared to be a meal. Dinner plates, wine
goblets, and a candelabra decorated it.
“Wonder who was planning on
eating here,” Dylan said, sarcastically as he played with a plate.
“Don’t touch that,” Spike
said. “Not until we’ve had a chance to look at them.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Detective,”
Dylan said, stepping back and throwing his hands up. “You do the investigating
and I’ll do the fighting.”
Spike and the others ignored
Dylan as they stepped closer to the sarcophagus to inspect it. Ted took
control, holding the candle aloft and looking over the top. He moved one of the
plates then bent over to look where the lid and base met.
“Look at this,” Ted said.
“See, where some of the stone has been chipped away.” He straightened up and pointed
toward the plates. “And the plates have smudges in the dust. They’ve been moved
recently.”
“Well, well,” Bob said.
“Hopefully, this is what we’re looking for. Hate the thought of disturbing
somebody for nothing.”
“Yeah, really,” Ted said.
“Okay, let’s clear this top and see.”
The four men quickly removed
the dinnerware and placed them carefully on the floor. Each of them took a
corner of the lid and waited for Ted’s signal.
“Go slow,” Ted said. “If the
front was rigged, this might be too.”
Slowly they lifted the lid, muscles
tensing as they waited for something to happen. They were relieved when there
were no explosions, no clouds, and nothing jumping out at them. They laid the
top on the floor. Taking several cautious steps forward, they leaned over to
peek inside. A woman’s body was laid out, her arms crossed. The black dress
clung to her skeletal remains, caked in dust and soot but they ignored this and
gave their attention to the bag by her feet.
“Go on, Dylan,” Bob said,
grinning as he pushed the younger man forward. “Check it out.”
“Whatever,” Dylan said,
rolling his eyes. He moved the bag slowly, alert for any danger. “I need some
light.” Spike moved forward taking one of the candles to hold over the bag.
Dylan unzipped it, moving the sides apart. He looked up with a grin. “It’s the
jewels and there is still some cash in here.”
“Thank God,” Ted said. “Get
it out of there and let’s go.”
The team worked quickly to
replace everything so they could leave. Spike was relieved that it had gone as
easy as it did. Now, they had to find the demon before they could return to
Plans were made to meet up
shortly after nightfall to pursue their perpetrator. Spike turned to follow
Dylan back to the truck they had rented for their stay. He held his hand out
for the keys. Before he had just given into the young man’s need to have
control but this time his injuries prevented it. Spike was surprised when there
wasn’t any resistance. Dylan laid the keys in his outstretched palm before
crawling into the truck and huddling against the passenger door.
Concern filtered through
Spike, surprising him that he even gave a damn.
~~~~~~~~
Spike caught the door before
it was slammed in his face. He didn’t say anything just followed Dylan into
their hotel room. The kid was angry that he had stopped to pick up first aid
supplies. He waited while Dylan grabbed clean clothes from the dresser and
started for the bathroom.
“The cut needs to be
cleaned,” Spike said calmly. “You can’t reach it.”
“Your point?”
“My point is that you need to
let me do it.”
“Fuck off,” Dylan spat.
“I’ve dealt just fine without you in my life.”
Dylan started to close the
door in his face but Spike caught it. His partner’s reaction was a little
extreme for the situation and it only added to the confusion Spike had been
feeling since he had discovered Dylan had been injured. Maybe it wasn’t his
place to take care of Dylan but they were partners, weren’t they?
“You’re going to be demon
bait with an open wound like that,” Spike stated. “But I’m not going to fight
you over it. It’s your life, right?” He handed Dylan the bag, let go of the
door and stepped back, shaking his head as the door was shut in his face.
“Maybe I’ll enjoy watching you get munched on as a late night snack.”
Spike grabbed his cigarettes
from the dresser and headed for the balcony. He smiled at the welcome burn of
smoke as it made its way into his lungs. Only another day and he’d have to give
them up again. Return to being responsible Spike. He gripped the railing as he
looked down to the almost empty pool. He turned around when he heard a muffled
sound from the bathroom. The door was still closed but the garbled sound
returned. Without thinking he made his way back into the room.
He’s probably wanking off, Spike thought, which
makes you an old perv for listening.
Spike stopped in his tracks
when Dylan made the noise again. But it couldn’t be what he thought it was. It almost
sounded like a whimper or a muffled sob. The concern he had been trying to deny
returned. There was something going on inside the kid that totally blew away
all Spike’s preconceived notions about Dylan. Before he could decide what to do
about it, the water stopped running. Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping,
Spike hurried back to the balcony.
When a litany of cuss words
followed his retreat, Spike smiled. This was the Dylan he knew. The Dylan he
could handle. He stubbed out his cigarettes while he waited. He still needed a
shower and to check out his own injury. A careful inspection by his fingertips
let him know that the cut had almost healed but he still needed to get the dry
blood off.
The bathroom door banged
open.
“I can’t reach it,” Dylan
said, thrusting the bag toward Spike.
Resisting the urge to smile,
Spike took it and dumped it on the bed. He stepped into the bathroom and
grabbed the wet washcloth. Returning he sat on the edge of the bed and waved to
the floor.
Dylan sighed before plopping
on the floor between Spike’s legs. The subjection of the act sent a new
awareness through Spike. An intense paternal need to care for this young man at
his feet swept through him. Dylan couldn’t possibly be aware of the
vulnerability of his position. Clad only in a towel, his hair wet and swept to
the side, his head bowed with the back of his neck an open invitation to the
vampire behind him.
Forcing himself to the task
at hand, Spike inspected the wound and surrounding area. Despite the shower
there were still streams of dried blood across the flesh of Dylan’s arms and
back. Spike worked on those first. His hand flat was against the skin to hold
it taut so he could scrub the blood off.
Neither spoke words but the
act between them said more than anything spoken could say. Spike could read the
emotions that radiated off of Dylan. The fear, the resignation, the confusion and
the hope were all hanging in the space between them. Spike’s motions slowed to
an almost gentle caress as he moved to the wound itself. He knew it had taken a
great deal for Dylan to ask for his help. He could only hope that he didn’t
jeopardize their partnership by doing the wrong thing.
The skin around the wound
was clean and Spike turned his attention to the injury itself. The stone bench
had ripped through the tender flesh and bits of granite were still imbedded in
the cut.
“It’s going to sting,” Spike
said, softly as he ran the cloth through the jagged edges. Dylan flinched but remained
silent. Spike blew on it gently; Buffy had always done that when their own children were injured. Another chill ran through
Dylan and Spike could almost see the retraction and release of the younger
man’s skin in response. “Almost done,” Spike said, double checking that he had
left nothing behind. Once he was satisfied that it was clean, he applied the
antibiotic cream. Next were the
bandages, then when he was finished, he patted Dylan’s shoulder. “All done.”
He expected Dylan to jump up,
not thank him and continue on like nothing had happened. Instead the young man
moved to his knees and turned to face him. Neither of them moved as they
studied the other while unspoken words danced between them. There was a
different vibe coming from Dylan now. It was sending a knot of worry though
Spike’s gut. They were balancing on a high wire and one wrong move could damage
any hope of them ever getting along.
“Would you change?” Dylan
asked. “I’ve never seen a…vampire up close before.”
“Thought you had killed
hundreds of my kind,” Spike teased, but found himself shifting without really
concentrating.
“I have,” Dylan replied.
“I’ve been hunting demons since I was fourteen. Didn’t have much of a choice
where I came from. I’ve just never taken the time to…you know…get close to
one.” His fingers hesitated before they traced the ridges on Spike’s face.
Dylan followed them over his forehead, down his nose and finally down to his mouth.
Their eyes met for one brief second before Dylan poked a finger between his
lips to touch a fang.
The caress sent a jolt of
electricity skittering through Spike’s being and he pulled back.
“Sorry,” Spike said, with an
uncomfortable laugh. “They’re really sensitive.”
The hand that had touched
him fell to rest on his thigh. “Sorry…I just wanted to know…”
“It’s okay,” Spike said. The
confusion from earlier had only intensified. There had been an almost sexual
feeling to Dylan’s touch but the kid hadn’t given any indication of being gay. All
he knew was that he didn’t want to scare Dylan away or hurt him. “Don’t worry
about it, but I think…we need to get going. The others are going to be waiting
for us.”
The young man’s face
shuttered closed again as he stood and turned away. Spike didn’t say anything
just got his own stuff before heading for the shower. Standing under the spray
he replayed the day in his mind. There were just so many emotions running
through him that he couldn’t figure them all out. He considered calling Buffy
to help ease his troubled mind. But the thought was quickly pushed aside as he
realized it wasn’t the comfort of his wife’s love that he needed but the
guidance of Angel, his Sire.
~~~~~~~
Music from the cantina
poured out into the narrow street, reverberating against everything until he
could feel the echo inside his head. Smoke hung heavy in the air, some of it
the sting of tobacco and some the sweet scent of marijuana but all of it was
burning his throat. The eyes were glued to him in open hostility as Spike made
his way through the crowds. The swagger of the big bad was his only warning as
he moved among them.
They parted, letting him
through, but their whispers followed him. Their whispers spoke of surprise,
idle offers of drugs, and warnings for the gringos to leave before it was too
late. Spike ignored them. The only concern he had was the hyper adrenaline that
rolled off of Dylan. He was too jumpy in this crowd, too much of a novice to be
able to handle the trouble they might have. Spike could only hope that he’d
follow orders and not get them killed.
Without hesitation he pushed
open the door and stepped into the crowded interior. No one paid attention to
the two strangers as they made way to the bar. Spike pushed his way in between
two men, sitting on the only free stool. He leaned back to Dylan.
“Go check stuff out,” Spike
said. “See if you can find anything of interest.”
The boy disappeared into the
throng as Spike turned back and ordered a corona. There was tension in the men
that sat on either side of him but he only took a long swallow of the cold
beer. His eyes never left the mirror in front of him. Spike scanned the crowd,
looking for their mark, looking for trouble, and keeping an eye on his partner.
Something Dylan had said
earlier had stuck with him, nagging at him with its contradiction. He had said
he’d been fighting demons since he was fourteen which was almost ten years ago.
So, why was Dylan so nervous on this trip? He should be hardened even more than
he was. The kid had a thick armor but underneath he seemed to be mush and that
didn’t make sense.
Before his musings could get
too deep, Spike caught a glimpse of who they were looking for. Tall, ugly, long
white hair and a gait like a baboon. Yep, it was the demon they were after. He
did another sweep of the room to find his partner. Anger flashed through him as
he saw Dylan chatting with a waitress. Their mark was within touching distance.
The kid would be dead before he could have a chance to react.
Dylan’s eyebrow went up as
he caught Spike’s gaze. One hand came up to scratch his chest and then almost
without notice one finger pointed to their mark.
Misjudged the little bastard again, Spike thought as he slid from the stool. Casually,
he moved through the crowd, smiling at the women as he fumbled in his pocket
for change. Anyone looking at him would think he was heading to the jukebox in
the corner but he was coming up behind the demon. It would be cornered between
him and where Dylan was still making time with the girl.
There were only a few more
steps to go when the demon must have been spooked by something because he took
off through a side door. Spike hurried after him, noting the sound of Dylan’s
cowboy boots against the concrete floor. He grinned. Maybe this was going to
work out after all. They burst through to the outside within seconds of each
other.
“Where did the…?” Dylan
started but was stopped by the raising of Spike’s hand.
Spike put his head back and
sniffed the air. It wasn’t hard to follow the rank stench of the unwashed
demon.
“The roof,” Spike said,
heading for the iron ladder on the side of the building. He quickly climbed to
the top with his partner on his heels. There was no one there, missed him by a
moment because it was running across the roof next door. Spike ran to the side,
noted the distance and climbed to the edge.
“Get the truck,” Spike said.
“Follow us on the ground.”
Dylan looked over the chasm
between the buildings before nodding and turning back. Spike felt confident in
his back up as he leaped to the next rooftop. All he had to do was keep up and
they would catch this guy. The chase was on. The demon turned, seemingly
surprised that a human was tailing him. It picked up speed and so did Spike.
They ran across the rooftop
then both leapt to the next one as the demon sought freedom. Spike felt the
rush as he ran. All his senses were heightened as he moved. The cool night air
on his skin, the gravel biting his skin as it worked its way into his sandal,
the sweat as it ran down his back, and the calling of his own demon.
Nothing can beat this, he thought as he seemed to fly from one building to
the next. Except maybe a really good fuck.
Spike grabbed his phone as
it beeped.
“What’s up?” Spike said.
“You’re running out of
buildings,” Dylan said. “See if you can chase it down into the alley in the
back...less people there.”
“Be waiting,” Spike said, as
he picked up speed to come up beside the demon.
It shifted its course and
leapt down onto the ground. It wasn’t quite where he wanted it to go but at
least it wasn’t out in the front where the crowds were. He heard a scuffle as
he jumped. Dylan was putting an all out effort in trying to contain their prey.
Spike ran into the fray, wrapping the white hair around his hand and pulling.
From there the creature didn’t stand a chance as they subdued it. They
restrained it with handcuffs that were made with a fortified alloy to be able
to hold those with super strength.
A call was made to the
others that they’re mission was accomplished. Arrangements were made to meet at
the airport and they were on their way. The road out of town to the private
airstrip was quiet and Spike was driving faster than he should. It felt good
though. They were on a high. Despite all their doubts about working together,
it had turned out better than they had thought.
Suddenly, Dylan stuck his
head out the window and started laughing.
“What are you doing?” Spike
asked, laughing at the sight.
“Whoo, it’s been a hell of a
night,” Dylan said, with a crazy grin on his face as he looked back at Spike.
“It was bloody fantastic and you are one loco motherfucker.”
Spike grinned back. “What
can I say? I’ve always been bad.”
to be continued…
