Chapter 14 - Hits

Later that night, when it was so late that it was early, Spike could be found silently slipping out of the house and wheeling his bike down the street.

He started it and headed in the direction of the city.

Something in him had made up his mind the moment he’d heard the words that day. He knew what he was going to do, never mind why he was going to do it. He’d found out what he’d needed, and the rest had fallen into place with savage simplicity.

He parked streets away and stuck to the shadows, heading for the building of his destination. It was easy enough to get inside, for him at least.

One room was lit.

Spike casually walked into the office, swinging the door open without a sound.

“Nice place you got here.”

The man spun around in his chair, obviously shaken. “How did you get in here?”

“You Smith?” He glanced at the desk. “Yeah, you are. Got the gold nameplate and everything. Come in everyday before five, huh? Hard worker, I’ll bet.”

Smith stood. “I know you. You’ve been tailing a certain…prospect of mine.”

Spike said nothing.

“I also know of your prices.” He smiled congenially, stepping forward. “After the Halloween…incident, I did some research. How much would it cost for you to walk the other way and forget you were ever introduced to her?”

“Sorry, mate. First come, first serve. Don’t get me wrong, if you’d hired me to nab her, she’d be sittin’ before you, but as it is…double dealing’s bad for business.”

The other man seemed unfazed by the comment. After a moment, he said, “This would mean that she’s alone at this very minute.”

“Yeah, ’bout that.”

Sensing the change, Smith reached into his jacket. But Spike had already closed the distance between them, grabbing his wrist and wrenching it. He felt a gun through the fabric.

“Don’t be doin’ that, mate. Don’t wanna make a lot o’ noise, do we?”

Letting go, Spike watched as Smith backed up. “Now, I’m not much one for torture,” he said conversationally. “But I was taught by the best, and in your case, I’m willin’ to make an exception.” He paused. “We’re the only ones here, y’know? Not a soul around. And those pesky cameras—pull the right cords and they’re useless.”

“Who hired you?” he demanded.

“No one. I’m just here for a little blood, so to speak.”

“I know what you do. Why should you care what I do? A pretty girl rubs up against you and suddenly you’re out for some righteous killing?”

That question grated Spike entirely the wrong way.

“Any other day of the week and you would have eaten her,” he continued boldly. “I know what you are.”

“Guess I shouldn’t have taken a bite outta that guy,” Spike said thoughtfully. Then his eyes slid in Smith’s direction, narrowing slightly. “I was just so hungry, though.”

“I would have figured it out anyway. There aren’t many people in our line of work who fit your description. Though it was a surprise.”

“Oh, well.” He shrugged. “That makes things simple, then. Kinda takes the fun out, though—not having a big reveal and all.”

“One thing does interest me. You were with her during the day. Certainly not immediately unusual, unless one knows certain things.”

“One reason I don’t go out a lot. Didn’t really think I’d be recognized on this one, though, being pretty far from my usual stuff.” He smiled. “But you won’t tell anyone.”

Smith sensed that something else had changed, and he began slowly edging to the side.

Spike tilted his head, watching for a moment. “You know what? I’m still sort of hungry.”

Smith lunged for something in his desk, but Spike was already on him. He pinned the other man behind the desk even as he was fumbling in a drawer. Smith pulled out a cross, triumphantly shoving it in Spike’s face.

Spike grinned, slipping into game face. “Makes me feel all fuzzy inside.”

Cold fear washed over Smith’s face as the useless cross fell to the floor. “How?”

“Doesn’t work like that. You don’t get the satisfaction of knowing.” He glanced down at the cross. “Not like that really would’ve helped you anyway. Y’know, I’m really gonna enjoy this.”

“Please, I’ll give you anything,” he stammered. “Name it!”

“Leave the girl alone.”

“Done!”

Spike laughed. “You really are too much.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No.”

-----
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Buffy woke up and almost unconsciously knew that something was different in the house. Putting on her robe, she crept down the hall and tapped quietly on Spike’s door.

“Spike?”

After a moment, she opened the door a crack. The room was empty.

She went downstairs and was surprised when she found the rest of the house dark as well. Though she supposed a vampire didn’t need light. It was then that she noticed the back door was open.

Spike was outside, sitting on the large porch swing.

“Hey,” she said.

He looked up as she walked out. A half-smoked cigarette dangled from his hand, and the sky was just beginning to change color.

“Can I sit?” Buffy gestured.

He nodded.

Buffy curled up on the seat, shifting her weight after a moment to lean against him. As she drifted back into a light sleep, some dreamy part of her mind thought that he felt strangely warm. But consciousness slid away, and the thought was lost.
.
.
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As the sun came up, Spike found his arm slowly moving to rest on the warm ball of girl at his side. There seemed something almost breakable about the moment.

In more ways than one.

He flicked the long-cold cigarette butt into the grass and looked down at Buffy. She was deeply asleep.

Spike stood and scooped her up. She made a small noise, but otherwise didn’t stir as he carried her inside. He put her back in her bed and then went into his own room and turned on the television.

He couldn’t remember what he watched.

-----

Later that morning, the clicking of computer keys was providing soft background noise as Wesley looked over a book written in Etruscan. Suddenly the clicking stopped, and a moment later, Fred tapped on the frame of his open office door.

“You know that guy I was researching? The one Buffy’s father owed money to?”

“Yes.”

“Um, he’s dead.”

Wesley looked up. “What?”

“Murdered. Sometime early this morning or late last night.”

“Any suspects?”

“They’re thinking it’s mafia related.” She waved a printout. “I’ve got the preliminary findings. But—well, here.”

Wesley took the report and quickly scanned it. How scum like Smith was killed wasn’t his top priority. What was pertinent was the fact that Miss Summers was likely in much less danger.

Then a phrase on the page jumped out at him.

…severe trauma to the neck…

He went back to the top and read the report in full, never noticing the white look on Fred’s face.

-----

Wesley thought it took Spike a bit longer than usual to pick up his phone.

“Yeah?” Spike answered.

“The man Mr. Summers owed money to was killed, it seems,” he said neutrally.

“Who by?”

“Considering who he dealt with, it could have been any number of unsavory elements. Judging by the complete lack of evidence, it was a professional.”

“So won’t someone else be steppin’ up to collect on the debt?”

“Doubtful. His office was ransacked, and most everything flammable was burned in a trash can. The computer hard drive was ripped out, and the wall safe was emptied. Someone was very thorough on erasing his records, if there were such of his illegal dealings. At any rate, it sends a very clear message to any acolytes of his.”

“Uh-huh.” Spike sounded uninterested.

“There were also a number of lacerations inflicted before death, and several broken bones. He apparently died from blood loss, though there was no blood at the scene. The coroner’s report said his neck was severely torn, with multiple wounds most likely from a serrated knife. Though for some reason, I doubt it.”

He paused, but Spike was silent.

“You really did quite the number,” Wesley finally said. “Was it necessary? Any of it?”

“You mad he’s dead?”

Silence.

“Or you mad cause I had a good time cuttin’ him up? What I do off the clock is none of your business.”

“Far be it from me to comment on your recreational activities. However, this was involved with a case.”

“Case is closed now.”

“It would seem,” he said stiffly. There was a short silence. “However, taking matters into—”

“Am I gonna have to threaten you, Watcher? You’re the only one who could tie me to this, y’know. Well, you or your sweet girl.”

Wesley could hear lightness in the words, but it did nothing to reassure him. “I’m seriously considering burning the case file as we speak.”

“Good.” Spike paused, then said:

“Buffy’s never to know.”

“That you brutally murdered someone for her? No, I should say not.”