Childe
of my Heart ~ Chapter Thirty-seven
by
Shanyah
At some
point each day, Charles Gunn would clump up the stairs to Fred’s room and close
the door behind him. He’d lay on Fred’s bed, wallowing in guilty misery on the
peach counterpane.
There
wasn’t anyone else in the hotel tonight, no-one to hide his feelings from, but
still Gunn clumped to Fred’s room, lay on the bed and stared at the photo of
Fred on the nightstand, off-guard when the men burst in. Two of them pinned him
to the peach counterpane. The third one darted into Fred’s kitchenette, delved
through her freezer and came up with a tub of very frozen Ben and Jerry’s
caramel chew chew ice cream, throwing it into his cotton holdall.
Gunn of
course put up a fight, gouged with his elbows, thrashed his feet. But he was no
match for the two hefty men. They snarled red eyes at him, made taunting sounds
as the third man pushed the wardrobe aside, revealing Fred’s wall safe. The man
worked the combination like a pro, had the safe door swinging open in under one
minute and Fred’s toolkit in his holdall five seconds
later.
“Take
that and I’m gonna beat you down like the sorry ass sons of bitches you are,”
Gunn swung his foot in an overhead kick and succeeded in snubbing his toe on the
headboard as the men released him.
They’d
jumped out of the window by the time Gunn got there, melted out of sight in the
night. He grabbed the phone and dialled Angel’s cell
number.
* *
* *
Soft
light glowed from the wall-mounted lamps. Flickering light and subdued voices
came from the TV. Willow arched, pushing the back of her head into the couch
cushion as Tara planted a trail of kisses across her lower
belly.
“What
are you getting at, Jack?” Demanded a woman on the TV.
Willow
felt Tara’s lips curve into a smile, felt fingers pluck at the button on her
jeans. “I’m trying to get at-”
The door
crashed open, stopping Tara in mid-sentence and drowning out Jack’s reply. Three
men swarmed in, their red eyes glowing at Willow and Tara and their grey skins
blending into the living room’s semi-darkness.
“Demons!
Demons!” Willow wildly pointed.
Tara was
already chanting. Eight bars of light sprung up from the carpet, encircling the
couch in a protective glow. The demons skirted the couch, one of them running
into Xander’s bedroom and the second into his kitchen. The third flicked through
his DVD collection.
“The
Blockbusters two streets from here is doing the tout for new regulars,” Willow
said. “They’re giving away free ex-rentals if you’re hard up for a
movie.”
The
demon slipped a DVD into a cotton sack and held it open for his friend from the
kitchen to push four six-packs of Budweiser into it. The third demon strode out
of Xander’s room, grinning as he sliced the air with a child’s play sword.
Willow lunged through the protective barrier and straight at him, Tara lunged
after her, wrapping her arms around Willow’s knees and bringing her
down.
“It’s
just a toy, let them take it!”
“You
wouldn’t understand,” Willow grappled until she was free, but by then, the
demons had left.
She
snatched up the phone, punched part of a number then held the handset against
her collarbone. “Tara did I…did I hurt you?”
Tara
pulled her sleeves over the carpet burn on her arms. “It’s just a toy,” she
said, a severe stutter jerking the words from her.
Willow
punched in the last three digits.
* *
* *
Anya
shoved the bills she’d been counting back into the cash register as the doorbell
tinkled. She frowned in recognition of the three intruders’ grey features,
locked the register and stuck the key into her bra. She came round the counter
when one of the men palmed a small bottle of clear fluid off a shelf.
“That’s
very expensive and you should put it back since I can’t accept a goat’s head for
it. We barter with money in this dimension,” said Anya.
The man
put the bottle into a cotton holdall and speaking to the other two, zoomed for
the counter. Anya zoomed after him and clamped her hands on the register.
“No, not
my money…or my Milk of Thessela,” she said, jamming her hip against the display
cabinet’s door when the demon rattled its handle.
He drove
his fist through the glass door, took Anya’s Milk of Thessela, turned round and
rifled through the cupboard behind him, selecting a bottle of whiskey.
Anya
flitted around the men pilfering her shelves, “I am a business person myself
Pirates, and understand that you have a living to make. But try the Espresso
Pump, they make bigger profits than me.”
A Pirate
swiped a box of dried snakes’ tongues off a shelf and Anya ran for the phone,
“that’s it. I’m calling The Slayer.”
She
dialled, glared at the engaged tone and tried a different
number.
* *
* *
Arranged
on the dining table were five stacks of books. Each stack held six books and
each book was a brick in the wall separating Slayer and ex-Watcher. Buffy
shifted in her chair and cracked her knuckles.
Giles
clacked his teeth on an earpiece of his spectacles and waited for the popping of
Buffy’s knuckles to pass. She rolled her head on her shoulders, setting off more
pops. Giles grunted, placing his spectacles on his open
book.
“Why so
disgusted? Are my roots showing?” Buffy blinked at him, her eyelashes tangling
with her fringe. She pushed the fringe out of her face and wrinkled her nose at
her quick-bitten nails. “A visit to the Beautique is in
order.”
“At
last, something we agree on.”
“When
you’re having nightmares about your sister going through God Knows What in the
God Knows Where you deported her to, try being agreeable then, Giles.”
“This
book refers to Dyulin as the Beasts’ Plain,” Giles held up a book, slammed it
down and held up another, “this one calls it the place where virtue is vice.
Buffy, I couldn’t feel more responsible or have worse nightmares if Dawn
were my sister.”
Buffy’s
face softened in appeal. “So phone him.”
“Once
again, no. I’m certain Ethan could open a portal, but he’ll lose his head the
minute he discovers the use he could put Dyulin’s demonic influences to. He is
not an option.”
“He’s
our only option. Willow’s out of the question, Wesley has opened two dead-ends
so far…” The phone rang and Buffy sprang to it, picking up on the second
ring.
“Hello!”
A pause
then, “bad time?”
“It’s
been a bad months Angel.”
“I’m
about to add weird to bad. Can you deal?”
“Hit
me.”
“Gunn
was in Fred’s room, three demons broke in, didn’t hurt him, but stole a tub of
ice-cream and Fred’s toolkit.”
“What
did they look like?”
“Grey
skin, red eyes, stank black hair. I’m going to get Wes to identify
them.”
“Keep me
posted.”
“Yeah,
goodnight…Buffy? That toolkit is to Fred as Mr Pointy is to
you.”
“She
slays with it?”
“You
could say that. But I meant that it’s special to her, Wes bought it for her
first anniversary out of Pylea.”
“Okay…how
is this significant again?”
“She
keeps the kit in her safe and no-one outside of A.I. knows the
combination.”
“Subterfuge
in A.I.? Start with Cordelia. You can’t trust a girl who chooses demon splicing
over Tylenol for a headache cure…oh call waiting Angel.
Bye.”
Buffy
received the incoming call. “Hel…?”
“They
took his Lightsaber and his beers and his DVD!”
“Whoa
Willow. Back up, slow down.”
“Three
grey demons with bloody eyes and long black hair broke into the apartment and
stole Xander’s beer, his ‘Castaway’ DVD and...”
“Castaway’s
the one where Tom’s character gets shipwrecked and starts a relationship with a
soccer ball?”
“That’s
the one.”
“They
took beer also? Gee, there’s a spate of food thievery going
round.”
“Focus
Buffy! Xander’s had that sword since second grade and he keeps it fort knoxed.
Why would a demon go into Fort Knox for a plastic sword?”
“I
dunno, why would a demon…hang on for Giles, a call’s come in on my cell
phone,” Buffy passed Willow to Giles and fished her cellular phone out of her
jeans pocket.
“Hi
Anya.”
“Buffy!
You have to come quickly. I’m being made poor by Pirates!”
“Pirates?”
“They’re
getting away with Giles’ toxic beverage and my hard earned products,” Anya
said.
“More
food robbing, by robbers dressed up as pirates in the Magic
Box.”
“They’re
Pirates dressed as Pirates…you are stuck on the Pirate issue!” Anya
said.
“Due to
us cross-wiring in a serious way!”
“Where’s
the difficulty? Pirates from Dyulin have just walked out of my shop with all my
ingredients for a numbing spell and all of Giles’ whiskey! Is he there? Ask him
if we’re insured against inter-dimensional theft and
vandalism.”
“These
Pirates; grey skin, red eyes, black hair?” Buffy asked, taut with
excitement.
“Yes,
and they stole-”
“Just a
sec, Anya,” Buffy said, signalling Giles to hand her the handset and speaking
into both phones at the same time. “Spike’s sending an S.O.S. The DVD, Willow,
they’re shipwrecked, but they sent for their comfort things means they’re
hanging in there.”
“What
did Dawn S.O.S. with?” Willow asked.
“They
haven’t come for her things.”
“Oh
Buffy, I…I…”
“They’ll
show and they’re gonna be sorry when they do,” Buffy said.
“Pirates
are strong and they steal in gangs. It takes a lot to make them sorry,” Anya
said.
“That’s
where you come in guys. Lock up and come over.”
Buffy
replaced the handset, rammed the cell phone into her pocket, ran for the stairs
and took them three at a time.
“The
thieves are Pirates from Dyulin, Giles, and going by the end on end calls they
strike quickly.” She unloaded weapons from the chest at the foot of her bed,
“They’ll be here any second. Machete or scythe?”
“Scythe,”
Giles crossed the hallway to Buffy’s room. “Slay the Pirates by all means, just
remember to spare one to lead us to their portal,” he took the proffered
scythe.
* *
* *
As per
Jude’s instructions, the Pirates had the targeted houses under surveillance for
two days, monitoring the residents’ movements. “It is necessary to have a person
in the dwellings when you attack, for you may need assistance in locating the
items you seek,” Jude had said. The Pirates sensed that a Slayer lived on the
Revello Drive and planned accordingly.
A troop
assailed the Summers’ residence, taking a box of strawberry flavoured milkshake
mix from the kitchen, Dawn’s portable CD player and a handful of CDs from her
bedroom. The Pirates abducted Mr Gordo from his repose on Buffy’s window seat,
conveying Dawn’s conviction: Buffy would come for her tatty, beloved Mr Gordo if
not for her annoying sister. It made Buffy fight the
harder.
But the
Pirates’ numbers weighed Buffy and Giles down. Within three minutes, the
Dyulinians were cascading out of the window with their loot, long before Anya,
Willow and Tara had locked their front doors.
“Come on
Giles!” Buffy soared out of her window.
Giles
opted for the stairs, clearing the porch in time to see a Pirate screech out of
the garage on Spike’s bike.
CHILDE OF MY HEART ~ CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
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