Breaking a Slayer

Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 43

Author's Note: Quotes are from Ats "To Shanshu in LA." I've taken considerable liberties with them.

*

Spike's keen vampiric senses were actually a detriment in the choking smoke and heat that enveloped him. Grateful for his lack of breath, he nonetheless was nearly as incapacitated by the smoke as a human might have been. It overwhelmed his sense of smell, tore at his eyes with caustic heat, and disoriented him almost immediately.

Hazy and confused, he dropped to his hands and knees in the charred rubble of the outer office. Uncaring of the damage he was inflicting upon himself, he crawled through the wreckage and pushed onward through the smoke.

A burning timber fell and Spike rolled to escape it, breathing involuntarily as he did so. At once, his body was wracked with weakness from the fumes. He struggled on and reached the elevator to the basement. It was, of course, not working.

"Bollocks," he swore, coughing as he said it. He stood and grabbed the doors with bloody and lacerated fingers. Exerting all of his formidable strength, he wrenched the doors apart. A fireball erupted behind him, flashing forward at the new oxygen source. Stunned, Spike did the only thing he could think of. He jumped into the elevator shaft.

*

After frantic calls to LA got her nothing but the answering machine, Buffy had tried to convince herself that her dreams were just that. She missed Spike and Angel. Missed them so much that her subconscious was dredging up threats where there were, in fact, none. She just needed to get out of the mansion.

Thus, Buffy found herself patrolling cemeteries with Willow and Tara the night of the equinox. The wiccans had plans of their own for the rite - but those would occur later and without Buffy's presence. In the meantime, they were happy to help her with her duties, though it seemed a particularly slow night for vampires or demons of any kind.

The only ones they'd seen had been two newly risen vamps, who'd not even gotten a chance to utter a word before Buffy staked them with dispatch. Willow was amazed at the energy Buffy seemed to have and the effortless movements of her body as she fought. Certainly, her friend had always been graceful, but now there was a panther-like poise added to the power and spirit that had always been there.

Buffy disappeared for a moment and abruptly Willow realized what it was. Buffy moved like Angel. No, it was more than that. Buffy was moving like Angel and fighting like…Spike? No, not exactly, more as if she had melded her own fighting style with theirs somehow. Willow was no expert on combat, but she'd been fighting at Buffy's side for long enough to recognize that the Slayer's movements had changed. Willow just wasn't sure what it meant.

She was quickly plunged back into reality as a vampire erupted from the densely intertwined bushes and grabbed her from behind. He was about to bite when a feral growl disturbed him. Willow looked up from the awkward angle atch hch he held her, recognizing the unmistakable sound of another vampire on the hunt. If they fought over her, perhaps she could escape. The sight before her shocked Willow to her very core.

Teeth bared, eyes hard as emerald-flecked amber, Buffy crouched before them…growling.

*

Angel woke, in desperate pain, completely confused. It was almost time for the ritual, he was sure, but something was wrong. *Spike…something is hurting Spike.* He could feel the pain and panic of his favorite childe through the bond they shared. It was what had awakened him. Slowly Angel pushed himself up off the bed. The room was hazy with smoke and now that he was awake, he could smell fire. Close, it was, and getting closer.

The doors from the elevator were wrenched abruptly open by his swearing childe and Angel pushed himself to his feet, shocked at what he saw. Spike looked as if he'd fallen off a cliff. His face was sooty, bruised and bloody and he favored his right leg as if he could barely stand to put weight upon it. He limped slowly from the elevator clutching his ribs and swallowing blood convulsively from his dripping, crimson mouth. "Oi, Peaches, rise and shine," he wheezed in a smoke-choked voice.

Angel took one weak and faltering step toward him, nearly falling as he let go of the bed. "Spike, what's happening? I smell fire," he said urgently.

"Righto, Sire. Someone don't like you much. Gotta get out now, mate."

They stumbled back toward the elevator shaft together, forgoing the blazing stairs with mutual shudders of dread. Fire. Vampires hated it with a passion. It could kill them faster than it killed humans, due to their unique physiognomy. Volatile didn't just describe their tempers.

"You first, Sire," Spike commanded imperiously, pushing Angel into the elevator. Angel reached one hand up and grabbed for the ceiling access panel, now dangling conveniently open from Spike's rapid descent. He hoisted himself up with none of his trademark grace. It hurt too much. He felt wounds that had never closed begin trying to seep again, but with no blood in his system, he felt nothing but a deep and utter enervation. Did he have enough strength to get himself out?

*

Willow held perfectly still in the vampire's grasp as they stared at the Slayer growling ferally before them. "Shit, I ain't that hungry, you can have her, Slayer," he mumbled, thrusting Willow at Buffy in a rush before he turned to run.

Buffy moved from Willow's path in a blindingly fast motion, lunging forward toward the vampire andpingping to his back. Tara pulled Willow to her, hugging her lover in fear and surprise as they stared at Buffy and the vampire. "Sh-should we try to stop her?" Tara asked hesitantly.

"I don't think we can, baby," Willow answered, her eyes glued to the spectacle in front of them.

Buffy ripped the shirt from the vampire's body and clutched his shoulders in her hands, bruising undead flesh and grinding bones together as he whimpered and shook, trying to free himself. Buffy snarled again and tore at the hapless vamp's throat from behind, ripping flesh and muscle from the side of his neck with one vicious bite of her blunt teeth. He screamed, trying to crawl away, but she rode his back in a way that suggested to Willow that she was releasing more than just anger in the attack. Buffy wrenched the vamp's head to one side and bit harder, blood spurting everywhere as he shrieked and struggled, then abruptly, her mouth was full of dust and she thunked to the earth.

Still growling, Buffy spat the bloody ash from her mouth and turned to Willow. The witch watched as the feral golden gleam that had possessed her friend's eyes faded to a small flicker of amber in the hazel depths. "Will," Buffy panted. "Willow, are you ok? Did he hurt you?" She moved quickly to her friend's side and pulled gently at her hair to expose her neck.

Willow flinched from the gentle touch and Buffy pulled back. "I-I'm fine, Buffy, just, um, confused. How come you didn't stake him? I mean, uh, the ripping out of the throat thing…that's ah, kind of, um, new for you, isn't it?" Willow was shaking in reaction to the near miss and really really worried about Buffy.

Buffy looked perplexed for a moment, as if she didn't actually remember ripping the vampire's throat out moments before. Then she blushed a deep red, and backed away from the witches. She stared down at her feet, unwilling to meet ow'ow's curious eyes for fear of what she might see there.

*Way to go, Buff. Freak out your friends, just when things are getting back to normal. What *was* up with that whole throat ripping thing anyway? And why, for heaven's sake, had it felt so…natural at the time?* She needed to get out of there, back to the safety of the mansion.

"Yeah, uh, right. Well, if that's it for tonight, maybe we should get on home? Still have, ah, rituals to do for the equinox and all," Tara mumbled nervously.

"That's ok, Will. You should go home and be safe. I'll head home after this last patrol," Buffy said, eager to be away from her friends before she said or did anything else to wig them out.

The wiccans said their goodbyes and walked quickly home, leaving Buffy alone in the dark quiet of the cemetery. The peace soothed her and she walked through the darkness very much at home in what was increasingly her element. *I'm not going to worry a thi this right now,* Buffy thought, as she twirled her recovered stake idly in her small strong hands. *In fact, I'm not staying here. If the boys aren't calling me, I'll just have to go see just what the problem is on my own. Sunnydale can get alone without a Slayer for a few days….* Decision made, she felt much better and headed back to the mansion to gather a few things for the trip.

*

Spike reached for the access panel after Angel climbed laboriously through. Hissing in pain as his broken ribs grated against each other, the blond vampire pulled himself up into the dark, smoky elevator shaft. There was a ladder to one side, he saw, and swore, wishing he'd been able to take that down the flight and a half drop to the basement instead of falling as he had.

No matter, they were getting the fuck out of here. Now! Angel lay, barely conscious, on the roof of the elevator. Spike kicked him none-too-gently in the ribs and his sire growled a warning. "Get up, Peaches," Spike commanded. "Got to get out of this place before the walls come down on us."

Angel nodded acquiescence and pushed himself weakly to his feet. He was weaving, barely able to keep awake. Spike motioned toward the ladder and Angel stumbled tiredly to it. He put one hand on the rungs and began hauling his large frame up with agonizing slowness. Spike followed after, trying to avoid putting weight on his left leg, which he was certain he'd fractured in his abrupt descent. The bond flared suddenly in his head and he felt Angel soothing the pain and taking it away.

"Oi, stop that, you bastard. You got enough shit to worry about without taking my pain, too," Spike said harshly, trying to hide his amazement that Angel would do such a thing for him.

Love poured through the bond just as suddenly as the pain had removed itself and he gasped at the strength of it. A moment later, it dulled, but Spike felt it, still, as well as a deep and utter pride that welled up from the older vampire. Dashing tears from his filthy face with one hand, Spike swore blasphemously and prodded Angel's feet to get him to move faster before the fire overtook them both.


To be continued...