London Nocturne (Part 3)
Sandra
Spike cursed; and lit his fourth cigarette.
Tonight the house in Kensington was ablaze with light; lots of people
coming and going....
GOING?!
He'd almost missed the two lithe figures who slipped from one of the many
side doors and then crept silently down the street. He slipped into the
shadows and waited until they were safely by...the Slayer, and the other
girl, the one Blodwen said was called Stefania.
Once away from the Council House they didn't bother to hide; and he
trailed them easily to a club called Percival's. The club was basically a
huge crowded room below street level, with small tables set in alcoves
along the walls.
Some pillock asked the Slayer to dance; and Spike was reminded of the time
when he'd first seen her, back in Sunnyhell.
"Hello, Cutie!" He pitched his voice just loud enough for her to hear
over the music.
Quick as a flash she turned smoothly into him, and he felt the wooden stake
pressing against his chest. To everyone else, it looked like she was
embracing him.
Spike never flinched, smiling directly into her eyes. "Miss me?"
She eased up on the stake, but she didn't return his smile. "Cut to the
chase, Spike! What do you want?"
"Not a thing, Kitten. Oh, wait...I want to hear all about the murder
trial. Not everyday a Slayer kills her Watcher, is it?"
Her gaze faltered at that, and she lowered the stake.
Instantly, before she could react, he tightened his arms around her and
held her hard against him. His strong fingers twisted the stake from her
grasp; and he heard it fall. To his surprise, she didn't resist him,
simply stood passively in his arms; and then, by unspoken consent, they
began moving together to the music.
After awhile she spoke. "Why are you here, Spike? I know this is your
hometown, but..."
His hometown? He almost snorted at that. His life in London had been one
long misery; and he couldn't think, now, why he'd bothered to come back.
But- if this wasn't home, then where?
Unwillingly, a picture formed in his mind's eye of a sign reading "Welcome
to Sunnydale." And his car smashing through it....
Sunnyhell?
Spike shook his head impatiently, trying to get rid of the all-too-vivid
image.
Buffy mistook the gesture. "I thought you were going back to Brazil to
find Drusilla?"
"It didn't work out, pet," he said flatly. Then something...some perverse
imp of honesty, made him add, "Dru decided she was quite happy where she
was. Seems the Chaos Demon's a damned good lover, if you'll pardon the
pun."
She didn't laugh, as he'd thought she might. Instead her eyes darkened in
sympathy, and she murmured, "I'm sorry, Spike."
He shrugged. "Nothing to be sorry about, luv. After awhile, it gets
harder to lie to yourself, that's all. And in Dru's case, I finally ran
out of lies."
Buffy wasn't fooled by his flippant tone, but she said nothing else, just
leaned further into his arms.
"I know about that- running out of lies. It happened to me too, with
Angel. And again, with Faith."
"Tell me," he said softly, almost coaxingly.
"You were right when you said we'd never be friends. Angel is in L.A. now,
he can't stay in Sunnydale. And Faith...you know about that?"
"Yeah...she killed her Watcher."
Buffy nodded. "My Watcher, too. The Council fired Giles, and sent Wesley
in his place. Then Faith went bad...and murdered Wesley."
"What became of Giles?" Spike asked, wondering why he even cared.
"He's here, in London. But they won't let him stay at the Council
House...lucky him! He didn't want me to come here alone."
"But you're alone at the Council House?" Spike demanded sharply.
Buffy giggled. "Hardly...there's Watchers, and Searchers, and ..."
"Buffy Summers!" A furious male voice interrupted them; and Spike looked
up to see the handsome Eurasian that Blodwen had identified as Nigel Chang.
One hand kept a tight grip on Stefania's wrist; with the other Nigel
reached for Buffy.
Spike moved to block him. "Here, mate, don't grab! Didn't your mum ever
teach you that's not polite?"
Nigel's eyes were blazing. "Get out of my way!"
Buffy placed her hand on Spike's arm. "It's ok, Spike," she said
hurriedly, "I better go."
She started to walk out with the others...then stopped, turned, and dashed
back to Spike.
To his amazement, she put both arms around his waist; and hugged him.
"Bye!"
He stared after her, his jaw dropping...then, he felt the tiny slip of
paper she had slipped inside his pocket. It was embossed with a logo-
from the Tavistock Hotel.
"Well," Spike said aloud, "looks like I know where to find the Watcher."
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Sunnydale