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New Order - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer novella

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Chapter Four

The Slayer pushed her blond tresses aside to expose the luscious milk-white tenderness of her throat. "How did I ever think I could beat you?" she asked in a voice tinged with defeat and longing.

Spike took her firmly by the shoulders and pulled her closer. He studied the fine curve of her throat and watched as the carotid artery pulsed rhythmically beneath the alabaster flesh. "How indeed," he said, baring his fangs in a malicious smile.

Buffy looked demurely up into his feral gaze. "I've been kidding myself," she said. "After the first time we fought - I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to give myself to you."

He leaned closer, his mouth drawing nearer to hers as he savoured the smell of her fear - no, the smell of her desire. "It's nice to see that you've finally come around," he purred, licking the skin above the throbbing artery at her throat.

"Take me, Spike," the Slayer whispered, tightening her grip upon him.

"With pleasure," he responded in a hungry growl.

He opened his mouth wider, about to bite into the delicious fruit, to suck upon its sweet nectar, when he heard a scraping sound, as if some beast was scrabbling long claws across a hardwood floor.

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Scritch-scratch.

Spike lifted his mouth from the creamy flesh of her throat and gazed about the nondescript room. He had no idea where he was or why the room was filled with a thick, drifting mist, but it didn't seem to matter. He only cared about the noise.

It came again. Scritch-scratch, scritch, scritch-scratch.

"You hear that?" Spike asked her.

"All I hear is your voice like the sound of the pounding surf or the crash of thunder. It's... "

"Yeah, yeah, besides all that," he interrupted, then stopped to listen intently.

Scritch-scratch! Louder this time. The noise seemed to come from all around him, echoing off the shadows themselves.

"Is this some kind of Slayer trick?" Spike grabbed her and shook her.

She gave him one of her sunny, cheerleader smiles. He was surprised he didn't burst into flames just being exposed to it.

"How could we possibly trick anybody as smart as you?" she said beaming. "Come on, Spike. Don't'cha wanna drink my blood, rip out my throat, all that fun stuff? You've been wanting a taste of me for ages. So come on, taste me."

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The room grew darker and the scratching louder. The Slayer glared at him, her sunny, submissive disposition sucked away with the light from the strange room.

"I've had just about enough of you and your games, little miss." He threw himself at her before he saw the stake in her hand. That wasn't there before, he thought as he descended on her in slow motion.

Spike watched her begin to move toward him as he fell, stake clutched in her tight little grip. Time stretched, slowed, as his death neared. He studied the simple piece of wood that was about to destroy him. It was dark brown, the tip carved into a nasty point. It amazed him that something so simple could fill him with so much dread.

The Slayer thrust the stake upward toward his long still heart. As the point punctured his chest and he exploded into dust he could still hear the sounds that annoyed him so.

Scritch-scratch.

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Spike woke with a snarl. His hand went to his chest and he rubbed where he'd been staked in his dream turned nightmare.

"Damn cheerleaders," he spat as he ran a hand through his sleep tussled hair, "can't trust a bleedin' one of 'me." He glanced around for his cigarettes.

Scritch-scratch.

Spike froze. He glanced over to see if the sound had awakened Drusilla. She was asleep, still curled in a tight little ball, thumb in her mouth. His cold, black heart ached with love for her.

Scritch-scratch, scritch.

Brow furrowed intently, he listened carefully and attempted to locate the source. It seemed to be coming from behind the heavy blankets over the window that had protected them during the day from the burning rays of the sun. The scratching was replaced momentarily by a low, snuffling sound. Spike relaxed slightly. Dead folks who owned the place must have a pet of some sort, sniffing about now, looking for its dinner.

"Go away," said Spike, "or you'll be the evening meal."

The noise ceased and Spike grinned. He lay back upon the floor and began to contemplate what would be in store for his merry little band this night, forcing thoughts of Slayers and dreams from his mind for the moment.

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The glass behind the blankets exploded, shards of it tearing the fabric. Then those coverings were torn away and a huge, shaggy, snarling form lunged into the room. With a ferocity terrible to behold it leapt upon him, forcing him back to the floor as he tried to rise and meet the attack. Its teeth gnashed and snapped at the air. He managed to force his arm beneath its throat preventing it from biting off his face.

What kind of bloody pet did this family have? His mind raced as he fought to keep the frenzied animal at bay. The stink of it filled his nostrils. It was the smell of dried blood and offal.

It was a smell he knew.

"Nykos shall make you suffer before I turn you to dust," the beast spat in a strained whisper as it bore down upon him.

"Oh, bloody hell."

It was the Lothgar demon they had run across in Paris. The one they thought they had killed. Spike struggled to keep the filthy, thrashing creature at bay.

"Look, mate. I'm the only one around here allowed to talk about meself in the third person."

The Lothgar's head reared back and Spike got a good look at the four puckered scars decorating the dark skin of its throat.

"Nasty scars," he said straining to push the demon from atop him. "Surprised to see you're still up and about." Spike brought a knee up between the Lothgar's legs and flipped the startled demon to the floor.

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Nykos scrambled to its feet, glaring at Spike, horrid features pinched with anguish. "To steal prey from a Lothgar is the ultimate offence," the beast panted. "Hunt you to the ends of the earth to make you and your woman pay for the indignity."

"You're joking. You followed us halfway around the bloody world 'cause we stole your supper?" Spike asked with a confused tilt of his head. "Not pointing fingers, mind, but I'd say someone's in need of some serious anger management counselling."

Nykos shrieked and sprang across the room. Its claws slashed down, black and gleaming. "Die!"

Spike sidestepped the attack and drove his elbow into the back of his attacker's head, sending it crashing to the floor. The Lothgar rolled, claws scritch-scratch scrabbling at the ground before it leaped to its feet again.

"Come all this way so I could finish the job all proper like, eh?" Spike asked as he lashed out. His blow cracked bone in the demon's chest and sent it reeling against the wall. "Guess I should feel honoured."

He struck Nykos in the face and thick, dark blood spattered across the whitewashed wall. Always filled with bluster and swagger, Spike knew how to set off an enemy with the appearance of arrogance. He'd gotten so good at it - and had the skill and savagery to back it up - that he had almost forgotten it was for show. Not this time. The Lothgar was deadly and enraged and if he didn't end this quickly, it might not end the way he wanted it to.

Spike grabbed the demon's head and yanked it down even as he drove his knee up into its face. He stepped back and studied the monster as it struggled to stay on its feet. "Could be you're no more a threat to me then a mountain of camel dung in the road."

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Through swollen and bloody features Nykos snarled. It lunged at him, slashing its razor sharp claws across his chest. Spike stepped back and gazed down at the tattered remains of his shirt and the bloody furrows in his skin.

"Now you've gone and done it," he spat and tensed to lunge again. "The shirt was one of my favourites."

The doors to the bedroom crashed open and both he and the Lothgar demon paused to glare at those who dared interrupt their conflict. Malik, Scylla and the Order of Aurelius spilled into the room. They look like the bleeding Keystone Cops, Spike thought as they eyed the Lothgar and screeched to a halt just inside the doorway.

Malik slowly lowered himself to all fours and Spike knew that a full-blown transformation into a demonic tiger was only moments away.

"Wait!" Spike shouted, keeping a close eye on his opponent. "This is between me and him," he said as he ripped his torn and bloodstained shirt from his body and threw it to the floor.

The intruders nodded in understanding and proceeded no further into the bedroom.

The demon smiled and ran the back of his hand across his bloody muzzle. "You surprise me, leech," the demon said. "You show honour when none is usually to be found in your ilk. A shame that you will soon die."

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"Got nothing to do with honour, mate," Spike shrugged, preparing to continue the fight, "s'just I'm selfish, see. It's gonna be a pleasure."

Spike threw himself at his enemy, raining blows relentlessly upon the Lothgar demon. Nykos was certainly durable, taking the repeated punishment and still coming back for more. It felt good to let go, Spike mused, to let slip the rage and frustration that had been pent-up inside him since the whole business with Laibach began.

From the corner of his eyes he could see the grinning idiot faces of the Order of Aurelius, amused by the savage violence. Spike imagined they would be quite perturbed to learn that most of the rage he vented on the demon was not for the Lothgar, but for the ancient deity they held in such high regard and who held his precious lover as ransom for his servitude. Just the thought of it fuelled his rage to near madness. He kept imagining that the Lothgar was Laibach.

He twisted into a high kick that took the demon in the centre of its chest and knocked Nykos backward. It stumbled, half falling upon the queen-sized bed.

Drusilla had been lost in a sleep impossibly deep, but when the Lothgar crashed down beside her, she woke at last. Her raven hair spilled in a veil across her porcelain features and her eyes were wide with the innocence of the mad.

"Spike?" she called sleepily, gazing about, a tiny smile flickering at the edges of her mouth. "Is there a party? Why didn't you wake me?" She rubbed sleep from her eyes with a fist.

"Stay right where you are, poodle," Spike said as he cautiously moved toward the bed. "Daddy's just finishing up some business."

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Nykos gazed at Dru and then back at Spike. It smiled, its teeth broken and bloody from the relentless beating. "You wish to protect her from me?" the demon hissed, bloody saliva running through its thick fur. "You've failed." It quickly began to crawl up the length of bed toward Drusilla.

Spike dove. He landed atop the Lothgar and attempted to pull the demon beast from his lover.

Drusilla giggled happily and clapped her hands. "Oh, naughty Spike, we haven't done this in forever."

Nykos slashed one massive hand down and sliced four deep gashes across the exposed flesh of Drusilla's leg. Her scream of pain was like a stake to Spike's heart. Fury surging through him he hauled the struggling demon from the bed and onto the floor. Spike slammed a headbutt into the face of the frenzied beast. A flash of dark motion at the edge of his vision distracted him - Drusilla lunging off the bed - and he did not move fast enough to avoid the Lodger's next attack. Nykos extended its head, mouth wide, and sank its jagged teeth into his shoulder.

Spike bellowed as pain exploded through his undead body.

"Aaaargh!" he roared through gritted teeth as he yanked on the demon's fur covered head. "And me without a newspaper."

He felt his blood running down his side in rivulets and began to rain blows down upon his attacker's face. He was having little success in removing the beartrap like grip of the demon's jaws when the lithe form of Drusilla suddenly loomed over them.

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"Get back, Dru" he spat. "This isn't a good time for you to be mucking about." The Lothgar burrowed his face deeper into the gushing wound with a low, rumbling growl as Spike screamed. "Go on... be a nice girl and keep... keep from getting underfoot!"

Drusilla didn't move. She continued to stare at them.

"It is called the death bite," said the voice of Laibach. Dru tilted her head and leaned closer to study them. "It is a Lothgar's final attempt to wrest victory from its opponent." She pointed at his shoulder. "It will stay attached even after it is dead."

"Thanks for the infomercial," Spike said as he plunged his thumb into the demon's eye and twisted it around. "But I think I have a way to make old lockjaw let go." The demon's growl turned to a shriek but it did not relent. "And then again... "

"I grow impatient," Laibach said as he made Drusilla reach down to grab the Lothgar by the scruff of the neck. Her fingers sank deep into the fur and flesh and the demon began to thrash. It released Spike's shoulder to howl in pain and snap at the air. He tore himself away, leaving flesh and blood behind in the demon's maw.

Spike watched as his love, in the grip of the ancient power, lifted the struggling demon from him by the loose fur at its neck. Nykos gnashed its ruined teeth. Its single, undamaged eye rolled in its head, caught in the grip of bloodlust.

"A new day is coming," said Laibach to the demon as he placed one of Drusilla's delicate hands against its muscular stomach. "A pity you will not live to see it."

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Spike struggled to his feet, a hand clutched to the wound in his shoulder, oblivious to pain as he watched Laibach deal with his attacker.

Drusilla's fingers sank into the first layer of fur-covered muscle and continued to dig. The Lothgar bucked in agony, dangling above the floor, still held by the neck in her vise-like grasp. Her hand plunged into the stomach cavity with a wet slurp. The demon's frenzied movements began to slow as Laibach used Drusilla's hands to remove the creature's large intestine and toss it to the bedroom floor.

"Such fragile things, these simple beasts with the audacity to call themselves demons," Laibach said as he tugged more organs from the cavity and threw them to the floor. "I will have to give serious thought to allowing your race to exist in my beautiful, new world."

She let the demon's limp body fall from her grasp and then looked at Spike.

"The sun has set," Laibach said with his lover's mouth. "Now it is time for us to begin the journey. Take us to Sunnydale so I may again walk upon the earth."

Drusilla's eyes fluttered and it seemed as though she noticed the dead demon at her feet for the very first time. "Spike," she cooed as she brought a gore-covered hand to her nose and sniffed it. "Is the little monkey sleeping?"

Spike went to her. Lovingly he lifted her dress to see the extent of the damage done by the Lothgar's claws. The wounds had already begun to heal. "Nothing to concern yourself with, honeybun," he said as he kissed the tips of her fingers and gently touched the gashes on her leg. "Just a bit of nastiness left over from our trip to Paris is all."

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He gazed up at her and noticed that something had captured her attention. She smiled in the direction of the doorway.

Spike turned to see what she found so amusing.

The Order of Aurelius had fallen to their knees, grovelling before she who was the vessel containing the most sacred of the great Old Ones.

"Look at them," Drusilla said with a giggle. "Scrabbling about in the dust like great ugly children playing marbles with eyeballs, like that time in Seville. What a night that was, with the music of broken bones and cadavers dancing flamenco. Can we go back someday?"

"Someday soon," he vowed. "But first, back to California. Back to where it all went wrong."

A grim shadow passed over his dead heart. Nothing good could come out of returning to Sunnydale. For her part, Drusilla was still gazing at the worshipful vampires who knelt across the room from her.

"It's like they've all lost something at the same time and are searching for it," she said.

He hugged her close and gave her a peck atop the head. "They haven't lost a thing, dumpling," Spike said. "In fact, I think they've found exactly what they're looking for."

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The customs representative's body spilled from the hold of the cargo plane and tumbled onto the airport tarmac like a load of sodden laundry.

"That's what I call customer service," Spike said as he peered out from the darkness of the airplane's belly. "There wasn't even supposed to be a meal on this flight."

Drusilla joined him and sluggishly wiped blood from the corner of her mouth. She looked down at the body haphazardly splayed on the runway below. "Dusty old scrolls, some broken pottery, perhaps even a mummy or two: but he wasn't expecting to find us. I think we scared the poor dear half to death," she said. She closed her eyes and swayed in the faint California breeze. "The fear that spiced his blood sings inside me. The melody burns my lips."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm very tired from the trip, my Spike. I think I'd like to take a little nap."

Spike took her into his arms and leapt down to the tarmac. Gently, he placed her back on her feet. "Just as soon as our ride arrives, we'll get you someplace where you can have a lie down. Until then, lean on me, that's a girl."

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The other members of the Order of Aurelius emerged from the plane to join them. They stood silently, gazing at their new surroundings. Spike looked about as well and saw only that he had returned to the place that he despised more than any other. The look of it, the smells that travelled in the night air, even the feel of the ground beneath his feet, all served to remind him of the failures he'd experienced here. This was her place - the Slayer, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not kill her.

"Well?" Spike snapped at Malik.

The large, dark skinned vampire looked at him in confusion. "Well what?" he growled.

"Did you arrange for a lift or should we stroll on up to the main terminal and call a bloody taxi?"

Malik snarled as he glanced down at his feet. "I arranged a ride before we left Egypt," he said in a measured tone. "It should be arriving shortly."

"It better," Spike growled.

A moment later a limousine followed by a van appeared on the runway heading toward them. Most of the Order shambled to the van. Only Malik and Drusilla remained by Spike's side. A vampire in a dark suit emerged from the driver's side of the limousine and hurriedly opened the door for Spike and Dru.

Malik entered the limo from the other side, sitting opposite them.

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Drusilla moaned pitifully and Spike lovingly patted her hand. "There now, blossom. We'll get you to someplace you can rest, and Bob's yer uncle."

"And rest she shall until you have completed the task I have set before you," said the voice of Laibach.

Spike pulled his hand away and looked at Dru. The ancient demon now peered out through her beautiful eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" Spike asked, cold fear stoking a raging fire in his chest.

"There is still much for you to do, vampire," Laibach whispered. "The necromancer Matereani awaits your arrival so that the ritual to return the Master from beyond may commence."

Spike glanced away from Laibach - from Drusilla - to gaze out the tinted windows. He'd rather look at traffic signs passing by than the ancient evil peering out at him through his lover's eyes.

"And I intend to be very helpful to our necromancer friend. It's what I agreed to do." Spike glanced back at Laibach. "I'll keep my part of the bargain, will you?"

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A thick, throaty chuckle emerged from Drusilla's throat. "If you cannot trust one of the Elder Gods of the Universe, who can you trust?" It continued to laugh as it looked to Malik and then back to Spike. "Your lover shall be collateral. In a dreamlike state she shall remain until you have fulfilled your promises to me. When the Master is returned, so shall Drusilla be to you. Do you understand me, vampire?"

Spike stared out the window again, jaws clenched with the effort it took for him to restrain himself. He had played by the rules - for the most part. Now Laibach was really beginning to tick him off.

"Do you understand me, vampire?" Laibach said again, this time dipped in petulance.

Spike turned his head and looked directly in his lover's eyes, stared at the ancient evil that had taken up residence there.

"Completely," he said, gaze never wavering.

Drusilla leaned her head back against the plush leather seat and she closed her eyes. Laibach was gone. Spike tentatively took Drusilla's hand in his again. She rested fitfully against him.

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They had driven in complete silence for close to an hour when Malik spoke. The sound of his voice was like the rumble of sudden thunder in the quiet of the passenger area.

"And what of the Slayer?" he asked.

Spike winced. His eyes were closed and he sat slumped, still holding onto Drusilla's hand. She had slid over, her head resting on his shoulder.

"What about her?"

He had thought of and reviewed every possible scenario involving her and his mission since touching down. He believed himself prepared. Now he opened his eyes.

Malik tapped on the glass with his finger. "This is her place. What if she tries to stop us? What then?"

"Who says she's going to find out? We do this all stealthy like and she'll never know we were here."

"And if we're discovered?" Malik prodded. "What then?"

Spike narrowed his gaze and glared at the shape-shifter, this vampire who had been gifted with the form of a Rhakshasa. "The Slayer sticks her cute little nose into our business... " he turned to stare grimly out the tinted window. "And it gets bitten off."

Malik retreated into silent contemplation.

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Spike closed his eyes and found himself drifting into a place where his obligation to Laibach had been fulfilled and Drusilla was again in his arms. A future place. It was going to be a different world, a world where the burning warmth of the sun had been extinguished, thick clouds of black ash filled the sky- and the Great Old Ones held sway over all.

The New Order didn't appeal to him very much. Not a great deal of fun to be had after the apocalypse, he was sure. But at least he would have Drusilla back. And as long as they were together, well, there was no such thing as Hell.

Dru burrowed against him, muttering softly to herself.

"That's it, love," he said bringing her hand to his mouth and giving it a kiss. "You rest and let me fix things. I'll have that dusty old god out of your head soon enough."

One way or another, he thought. One way, or another.

THE END