Title: Past Imperfect 9/?
"Think so?" Spike replied and shoved her out of his
way.
He curled his hands around the latch and pulled the
door off its hinges.
"So much for the element of surprise," she mumbled and
hurried to catch up with him as he stomped down the
cold corridor.
The hallway branched off in two directions, and the
vampire hesitated only briefly before turning to the
right. A hooded figure stepped around the corner ahead
of them and raised a pistol as he quickly advanced on
them. Spike reached out and grabbed the man's hand and
slammed it into the wall. The gun fell to the floor,
and the man groaned as the bones in his hand crumbled.
"Spike! Don't kill--"
Buffy's shout was lost in Spike's angry snarl as his
fangs descended, and he bit savagely into the
stranger's throat.
"Oops. Too late," he smirked, dropping the corpse and
wiping the blood from his mouth with his sleeve.
"We're never going to--" she sighed as he ignored her
and continued on down the hall, and she ran to join
him. "We're never going to get any answers if you kill
all of them."
"You want answers? Find them yourself. I want Willow,"
he snapped.
He stopped suddenly, and Buffy grunted as she plowed
into his back. His gaze fastened on a door at the end
of the hallway.
"Is it Willow? Is she in there?" Buffy asked.
The door opened, and three men stepped out of the
room, blocking their entrance.
"She's in there," one of them answered the slayer's
question. "And she can leave here--unharmed. All we
want is him."
"She's leaving, all right. With me," Spike informed
him.
"I don't think so," he shook his head and turned his
eyes on Buffy. "I have to admit; I'm disappointed
you're helping him. The slayer of all people."
"I don't have to justify my actions to you," she
snapped. "I don't know how you know so much about me
or Spike, but--"
"I don't really give a damn," Spike spat impatiently
and glared from the slayer to the three men in front
of them. "You can either get out of my way, or I can
do it for you."
The men exchanged a quick look, closed ranks, and
moved toward him. Spike snarled as one of them raised
a dart gun. The vampire reached around for the slayer
and shoved her forward as the man pulled the trigger,
releasing one of two darts. It embedded itself in
Buffy's neck, and she fell to her knees as Spike
kicked the rifle out of his hand and threw him into
the other two men, sending all three of them crashing
into the wall. He picked up the first and heaved him
across the hallway.
The second, who was trying to crawl toward the rifle
found himself suddenly being lifted off the ground by
one cold, powerful hand. Spike slammed the man up
against the wall and curled his other hand around his
chin. The man wailed pitifully as the bones in his jaw
snapped with a sickening crunch. The amber eyes of the
vampire's demon glared hatefully at his writhing
victim.
"Bastard," the third man's voice hissed from behind
Spike.
Without so much as turning his head, the vampire's arm
shot out, and he backhanded the man behind him before
sinking his fangs into the man against the wall in
front of him.
"Spike," Buffy's weakened voice cried out as she
pulled herself up onto her feet. "Don't kill them.
They're human."
"Define 'human,'" he smirked cruelly and reached down
and scooped up the dart gun.
He turned as the man he had thrown across the hall
stumbled toward his partner. The vampire raised the
rifle, its barrel trained between the eyes of the man
who had spoken to Buffy and him a few minutes earlier.
"You're either the leader of this sorry lot, or you
just have the biggest mouth," Spike sneered. "Wonder
what this stuff does if it's injected straight into
the brain."
The two men stared at the vampire and backed into the
wall behind them. Meanwhile, Buffy had managed to make
her way to Spike's side.
"You can't do this, Spike," she told him, her speech
slurred slightly as the drug raced through her system.
"You can't--"
He rolled his eyes and cuffed her with the back of his
hand, "Shut up, Slayer."
"Owww," she whined and raised her palm to her bleeding
mouth. "That hurt!"
Spike grinned in amusement and returned his eyes to
the men across from him.
"Don't do this," the leader pleaded. "We'll give you
the girl. We won't bother either of you again."
"You got that right," he agreed and pulled the
trigger.
The dart sunk into the man's forehead, and he screamed
as his body slid bonelessly down the wall. His partner
turned a sickly shade of green and stared at the
vampire in horrified silence.
"I'm only guessing here," Spike smiled amiably at him.
"But I'd say his condition is more permanent than mine
was."
The man choked back a sob and slunk along the wall in
a desperate attempt to escape the murderous vampire.
"I could let you go," Spike considered, closing the
distance between them in two long strides.
He looked up at the vampire, his entire body
trembling, and licked his lips nervously.
"Or not," Spike said, flipping the rifle around and
slamming the stock into the man's face.
He knelt over his prone body, grabbed the man's hair
through the thick hood, and snapped his neck. The
leader was moaning softly, his back propped against
the wall where he had fallen, and Spike returned to
him, dragging him up onto his feet.
"If I weren't in such a hurry to get to my mate, I'd
take my time with you. Make your death slow and
painful," he said, his voice low and angry. "As it is,
all I really want is Willow. So--"
The air in the man's lungs gurgled up through his
throat as Spike shoved his head back against the wall
and severed his jugular with one swift bite. He
dropped the lifeless body and turned toward the closed
door.
"That was just--mean," Buffy objected as Spike kicked
open the door and left her in the hallway.
"Spike," Willow moaned softly as she felt the leather
shackles on her wrists being ripped free.
"Yeah, baby. I'm here," he answered.
"No," she shook her head as Spike quickly tore away
the bands that were holding her down. "They know
you're coming. You have to--"
"I took care of them," he told her as he tucked his
arms under her and lifted her up off the cot.
She burrowed her head against his chest as he carried
her out of the room. Buffy's glazed eyes watched as he
strode past her. He reached the end of the corridor
and turned around as he realized she wasn't following.
"What the bloody hell are you waiting for?" he shouted
at her.
"We can't just leave them here like this!" she
protested. "What are their friends going to think when
they get here and--"
"Who gives a damn?" he snarled.
"I do! They'll be all sad and--"
"Stupid bitch," he scowled. "I'm getting Willow out of
here. Now."
"Willow," she cried out and focused her gaze on the
redhead in his arms. "Is she okay? Did they hurt her?
Will, are you--"
"What's wrong with her?" Willow asked Spike.
"She's on drugs," he grinned.
Willow laughed softly and called out, "Buffy, get your
ass over here. I want to go home."
"Okay, geez," Buffy mumbled. "You don't have to be
rude about it."
***
"Buffy, drink this," Giles prompted, handing the
slayer a mug of black coffee.
"Thank you," she smiled and took it from him. "He
really made a mess back there you know. Didn't even
offer to stay and clean it up."
Giles sighed and looked over at Xander.
"Still, Willow's back now," she consoled herself and
glanced toward the hallway. "Wonder what they're doing
in there."
"Personally, I don't want to know," Xander mumbled.
"He loves her, you know," she continued happily. "Yup,
Spike loves Willow, and Willow loves Spike. Who could
blame her, though?"
Xander shook his head in disbelief.
"I'm serious!" she insisted. "I mean, that voice,
those eyes, that ass, how could she resist?"
"Buffy," Giles said softly.
She looked up at him, "Yeah?"
"Shut up."
"Oh," she looked down into the steaming mug for a
moment before saying thoughtfully, "Giles?"
"What is it?" he asked gently, thinking perhaps her
senses were slowly returning, at last.
"Got any Oreos to go with this?"
End 10/?
Author: Ruby
E-mail: ruby_113@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-16
Disclaimer: Joss owns all.
Summary: Spike has had a slight mental adjustment.
Archive: Charity's site, Willow's Men, Fever of Fate,
and all the rest of my usual haunts.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Dedication: For Bridget, whose methods of torture go
way beyond evil.
"Locked," Buffy announced as she tugged on the latch
of the solid metal door.
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