Chapter Eleven:
" Did you hear that?" Buffy stopped walking suddenly and tried to strain her ears for the noise she'd just detected.
Spike nodded, a slightly disgusted look on his face, and in his voice. " Yeah, I hear it. Vampire hearing remember? I could hear those two shagging all the way on the other block. Course, they are going at it like slightly larger than life rabbits, anyone could hear it."
Buffy gave him an expressionless look, then raised her eyebrows at him. " No, I was thinking more like that pounding noise."
Spike grinned. " Oh, there's pounding all right."
Buffy shook her head, closing her eyes in irritation. " Spike, I was thinking more along the lines of a hammer. A pounding hammer."
This idea slowly registered on Spike's face. " Right, figured that's what you meant."
" You don't think it could be-" Spike and Buffy spared each other a look of realization then shock and took off running down the street. They weren't far from Xander's apartment, and that was a good thing, because it sounded like the hammer's pounding was becoming more furious.
Anya screamed and crouched lower into the truck she had taken refuge in. The hammer had already smashed the glass, but she had laid a strip of plywood over her. And she'd concluded that it was really stronger than it looked.
The hammer had apparently lost interest in Xander, and the part of her that wasn't screaming was praying it wasn't because her ex was dead. She'd run into the truck, covering herself with the wood, and she was bleeding from the cuts that the broken glass had given her. All in all, this day was rivaling the one when she was stranded at the altar.
Suddenly the pounding stopped, and then she heard a loud grunt, then Buffy's voice yelling, " A little help here please." Anya pulled the plywood down, and looked out to see Spike and Buffy wrestle the hammer to the ground. They lay on top of it, their stomachs going up and down a little with the hammer's furious movement. Then Buffy looked up to see Anya. " Anya, see if he's okay."
Anya wasted no time climbing out of the truck, tripping when her left shoe broke, then crawling over to Xander's motionless body. " Xander?" she asked anxiously as she put her hand on his chest and shook him. He didn't move. She shook him harder calling his name. When he still didn't move she yelled his name once more before hauling back and slapping him across the face.
His eyes fluttered before he turned his head to stare blankly up at her. " You know, I did fall a very far distance, hit my head, was knocked unconscious, so do you really think slapping me was such a marvelous idea? Oh, and by the way, OW!"
Anya rolled her eyes, instantly over her worry and getting back on the track to agitation. She stood up, slipping off her shoes, and then proceeded in dusting herself off for the second time. Xander slowly climbed to his feet, then they turned to see how Buffy and Spike were doing.
They had managed to contain the hammer in a tool box, and the sound of the metal hammer head clashing against the metal of the box was resonating everywhere in the air. Anya cringed at the sound and backed away as Buffy walked up to Xander, handing him the box.
" Take that to the museum, give it to the curator. Hopefully that means the you two will be freed from the curse." Xander nodded as he took the box. " You two okay?" Buffy asked as she dusted herself off as well.
" Oh, just hunky-dory." Anya added quickly, in her most annoyingly sarcastic tone. " We were only about smashed to death by a hammer. Of course, in our colorful yet frightening lives, its not like it's anything new. I mean, who hasn't almost been smashed to death with a possessed hammer at least once in their lifetime?"
Buffy stared blankly at Anya for a moment before stating, " Hammer, box, museum, you two, go." Anya rolled her eyes before she and Xander turned to walk away. Then Buffy looked at Spike, who had a split lip and a very exhausted look on his face. " Well, one hammer down, one task out of the way, what's next?"
Spike pulled the paper he'd been keeping out of his pants pocket and looked it over. " Oh, looks like all kinds of fun is coming our way."
Nearing the museum for the second time was a much different experience than the first time. First thing, Buffy and Spike were missing, and some of the hostility that the two shared for each other was gone. The museum still gave off that menacing air, and the many stone gargoyles still perched in their places, but the museum seemed a little more welcoming this time. Like it had been expecting them. And that even freaked out the 1200 year-old ex- demon.
" Xander, are you all right? I noticed you walking all slouched over like one of the wounded warm victims.just with less patriotism. Do you need help? Or maybe a crutch or something?"
Xander stopped and shifted the weight of the hammer-enclosing toolbox to his other arm, and wiped the sweat from his face. " No, no crutches required just yet. A couple more arms wouldn't be such a bad thing, but, then again, if someone was helping me carry this box, then maybe I'd-"
" Oh, no," Anya said, taking a step back. " I told you I can't help you carry that. Not only did I just recently have my nails done, and I'm not as strong as you, I don't want to." She smiled cheerfully and leaned forward, patting him on the arm. " You have much more upper arm strength than I do, and you're doing fine. We'll be there in a second."
With a grunt and another shift of the toolbox, Xander followed Anya up the stone steps of the museum and Anya knocked on the doors. It was only a second before the doors swung open and that frightening invisible wind grabbed them and hurtled them into the front hall.
Anya landed with a thud, smacking her hand on the stone floor, where one of her long, polished fake nails promptly snapped off. She squealed in pain and glared up as the curator came chuckling down the hall to greet them.
" I never tire of that old trick," he laughed to himself as he picked the toolbox off of the floor. " Hope it didn't hurt too much, but its just neat to see such large entities go flying into the air like rag dolls."
He continued to chuckle at the thought as Anya picked herself up, shoving her disfigured hand into his face. " Hurt? This manicure cost forty- frickin' dollars mister! You going to pay for a replacement nail?"
The curator only spared her hand a glance as Xander stood and hushed Anya's temper into silence. The curator began to walk off, but Xander, having no desire to stay there any longer than needed, didn't follow him, just asked, " So our debt is paid now, right? You've got your hammer, we've got fond memories, and we can go on our merry way?"
The curator slowly turned around, still smiling brightly. " Oh, I'm afraid not. You see, I don't really know you, or your friends, so there's no telling the value of your friendship. So I really have no guarantee that they'll bring me my things, or even come back. So I'll have to keep you here." Anya and Xander jumped and turned as a loud clanging sound came from behind them. From the ceiling, a large metal cage door dropped down, blocking the exit like prison bars. Xander and Anya cast frightened looks to the curator. " You know," he said, " For insurance."
" This is the place?" Buffy asked, scratching idly at her neck and looking up at the two-story Victorian before them. It was old and in bad condition, some of the windows had been boarded up and the plant life surrounding the structure was less than tended too. All-in-all, just the kind of place you'd expect to find a witch.
" That's what the map says. There's no address on the house, and no mailbox. I guess being the dark wiccan type, she doesn't really need AARP pamphlets."
Buffy took the map they'd gotten from a phone booth and then checked the directions on the list. The house was isolated near the woods on the edge of town, which really wasn't that far from the center of town. Still, they hadn't seen anyone all night and no cars had been on the rode for more than twenty minutes. It didn't bode well for the night so far.
" Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be fun?" Buffy asked as she tucked the map and the list into her pant's pocket.
" Maybe because your awake, luv," Spike answered, still examining the house with a thoughtful, head-tilted-to-the-side look. " I really may need a cig after this encounter."
" You know you should stop that." Buffy didn't look at him, but he looked at her. She knew looking at him would make this harder, and she had to get it done with. This needed to be said, and this was the best opportunity to do it. She needed to set her guidelines for Spike.
" You know they can't hurt me, luv. Nicotine may be addictive for the undead, but its not really going to make me deader."
" That's not what I meant. I mean you should stop.calling me luv." This time Buffy did turn to look at him, letting no emotion show on her face, staring him down like a mother scolding a child. If she showed the slightest affection he wouldn't get her point.
Meanwhile, Spike just stood there, that stricken look on his face like his favorite puppy had just been hit by a car. " Ah, it's the lecture again is it? If you don't like the name, pet, I can stop it."
" And you need to. All these names that make me sound like your.friend. Pet, luv, sugar, honey-bunch, whatever you feel the urge to call me, just quit it. I don't want to hear it from you. It still makes me squirm to hear you say my name. So no more. Please."
It occurred to her that she sounded pleading, but in a way she was. Every kind word or soft gesture he showed her just wanted to make her forgive him for his actions. Every time he smiled at her or showed concern, she felt like smiling back. And she couldn't. Not with a vampire. A soulless vampire that tried to hurt her.
Spike's expression looked more closed off now. She knew she'd hurt him, but she couldn't let herself care. He nodded slowly and smiled his defeated grin. " Whatever you say. I'm here to right my wrong, then I'll stay out of your way. Buffy."
He said the word louder, like he was trying to force it into her mind that he'd do whatever it took to atone, but she didn't spare him another glance, she couldn't, because her eyes suddenly seemed hot and blurry. She just turned and started up the creaky wooden steps to the witches' house.
Spike followed behind her, and even his footsteps seemed to sound heartbroken. She reached her hand out and then stopped, unsure about this whole situation. The list said that they were about to go up against a powerful witch and neither one of them had the kind of power to fight her. Buffy could kick her and they could hit her, but if she did magic on them, they couldn't fight that. And the only person they knew that could was.unavailable.
" You know," Spike said from behind her, " She may be a powerful witch, but I doubt she can hear you knocking with your hand that far away from the door."
Buffy scowled and smiled at the same time, praying that maybe it wouldn't be so hard to distance herself from Spike than she thought. " Well, its now or never," she told herself and rapped quickly on the wooden door.
They stood there for what seemed like a lifetime, before Buffy heard the creaking of someone walking on the inside. She took a step back from the door as it was opened. The woman in front of them was smiling, dressed in the formal garb you would expect of a reclusive wicca. " Can I help you?" She sounded perfectly normal, no evil at all, but Buffy concluded she wasn't a very good judge, seeing her best friend and assumedly the least harmful person in the world had attempted to destroy the world less than four months earlier.
" Yes you can." The woman stepped back to let them in, and Buffy took one last breath of fresh air as she walked forward into the musty old house of the smiling woman they were supposed to kill.
" Did you hear that?" Buffy stopped walking suddenly and tried to strain her ears for the noise she'd just detected.
Spike nodded, a slightly disgusted look on his face, and in his voice. " Yeah, I hear it. Vampire hearing remember? I could hear those two shagging all the way on the other block. Course, they are going at it like slightly larger than life rabbits, anyone could hear it."
Buffy gave him an expressionless look, then raised her eyebrows at him. " No, I was thinking more like that pounding noise."
Spike grinned. " Oh, there's pounding all right."
Buffy shook her head, closing her eyes in irritation. " Spike, I was thinking more along the lines of a hammer. A pounding hammer."
This idea slowly registered on Spike's face. " Right, figured that's what you meant."
" You don't think it could be-" Spike and Buffy spared each other a look of realization then shock and took off running down the street. They weren't far from Xander's apartment, and that was a good thing, because it sounded like the hammer's pounding was becoming more furious.
Anya screamed and crouched lower into the truck she had taken refuge in. The hammer had already smashed the glass, but she had laid a strip of plywood over her. And she'd concluded that it was really stronger than it looked.
The hammer had apparently lost interest in Xander, and the part of her that wasn't screaming was praying it wasn't because her ex was dead. She'd run into the truck, covering herself with the wood, and she was bleeding from the cuts that the broken glass had given her. All in all, this day was rivaling the one when she was stranded at the altar.
Suddenly the pounding stopped, and then she heard a loud grunt, then Buffy's voice yelling, " A little help here please." Anya pulled the plywood down, and looked out to see Spike and Buffy wrestle the hammer to the ground. They lay on top of it, their stomachs going up and down a little with the hammer's furious movement. Then Buffy looked up to see Anya. " Anya, see if he's okay."
Anya wasted no time climbing out of the truck, tripping when her left shoe broke, then crawling over to Xander's motionless body. " Xander?" she asked anxiously as she put her hand on his chest and shook him. He didn't move. She shook him harder calling his name. When he still didn't move she yelled his name once more before hauling back and slapping him across the face.
His eyes fluttered before he turned his head to stare blankly up at her. " You know, I did fall a very far distance, hit my head, was knocked unconscious, so do you really think slapping me was such a marvelous idea? Oh, and by the way, OW!"
Anya rolled her eyes, instantly over her worry and getting back on the track to agitation. She stood up, slipping off her shoes, and then proceeded in dusting herself off for the second time. Xander slowly climbed to his feet, then they turned to see how Buffy and Spike were doing.
They had managed to contain the hammer in a tool box, and the sound of the metal hammer head clashing against the metal of the box was resonating everywhere in the air. Anya cringed at the sound and backed away as Buffy walked up to Xander, handing him the box.
" Take that to the museum, give it to the curator. Hopefully that means the you two will be freed from the curse." Xander nodded as he took the box. " You two okay?" Buffy asked as she dusted herself off as well.
" Oh, just hunky-dory." Anya added quickly, in her most annoyingly sarcastic tone. " We were only about smashed to death by a hammer. Of course, in our colorful yet frightening lives, its not like it's anything new. I mean, who hasn't almost been smashed to death with a possessed hammer at least once in their lifetime?"
Buffy stared blankly at Anya for a moment before stating, " Hammer, box, museum, you two, go." Anya rolled her eyes before she and Xander turned to walk away. Then Buffy looked at Spike, who had a split lip and a very exhausted look on his face. " Well, one hammer down, one task out of the way, what's next?"
Spike pulled the paper he'd been keeping out of his pants pocket and looked it over. " Oh, looks like all kinds of fun is coming our way."
Nearing the museum for the second time was a much different experience than the first time. First thing, Buffy and Spike were missing, and some of the hostility that the two shared for each other was gone. The museum still gave off that menacing air, and the many stone gargoyles still perched in their places, but the museum seemed a little more welcoming this time. Like it had been expecting them. And that even freaked out the 1200 year-old ex- demon.
" Xander, are you all right? I noticed you walking all slouched over like one of the wounded warm victims.just with less patriotism. Do you need help? Or maybe a crutch or something?"
Xander stopped and shifted the weight of the hammer-enclosing toolbox to his other arm, and wiped the sweat from his face. " No, no crutches required just yet. A couple more arms wouldn't be such a bad thing, but, then again, if someone was helping me carry this box, then maybe I'd-"
" Oh, no," Anya said, taking a step back. " I told you I can't help you carry that. Not only did I just recently have my nails done, and I'm not as strong as you, I don't want to." She smiled cheerfully and leaned forward, patting him on the arm. " You have much more upper arm strength than I do, and you're doing fine. We'll be there in a second."
With a grunt and another shift of the toolbox, Xander followed Anya up the stone steps of the museum and Anya knocked on the doors. It was only a second before the doors swung open and that frightening invisible wind grabbed them and hurtled them into the front hall.
Anya landed with a thud, smacking her hand on the stone floor, where one of her long, polished fake nails promptly snapped off. She squealed in pain and glared up as the curator came chuckling down the hall to greet them.
" I never tire of that old trick," he laughed to himself as he picked the toolbox off of the floor. " Hope it didn't hurt too much, but its just neat to see such large entities go flying into the air like rag dolls."
He continued to chuckle at the thought as Anya picked herself up, shoving her disfigured hand into his face. " Hurt? This manicure cost forty- frickin' dollars mister! You going to pay for a replacement nail?"
The curator only spared her hand a glance as Xander stood and hushed Anya's temper into silence. The curator began to walk off, but Xander, having no desire to stay there any longer than needed, didn't follow him, just asked, " So our debt is paid now, right? You've got your hammer, we've got fond memories, and we can go on our merry way?"
The curator slowly turned around, still smiling brightly. " Oh, I'm afraid not. You see, I don't really know you, or your friends, so there's no telling the value of your friendship. So I really have no guarantee that they'll bring me my things, or even come back. So I'll have to keep you here." Anya and Xander jumped and turned as a loud clanging sound came from behind them. From the ceiling, a large metal cage door dropped down, blocking the exit like prison bars. Xander and Anya cast frightened looks to the curator. " You know," he said, " For insurance."
" This is the place?" Buffy asked, scratching idly at her neck and looking up at the two-story Victorian before them. It was old and in bad condition, some of the windows had been boarded up and the plant life surrounding the structure was less than tended too. All-in-all, just the kind of place you'd expect to find a witch.
" That's what the map says. There's no address on the house, and no mailbox. I guess being the dark wiccan type, she doesn't really need AARP pamphlets."
Buffy took the map they'd gotten from a phone booth and then checked the directions on the list. The house was isolated near the woods on the edge of town, which really wasn't that far from the center of town. Still, they hadn't seen anyone all night and no cars had been on the rode for more than twenty minutes. It didn't bode well for the night so far.
" Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be fun?" Buffy asked as she tucked the map and the list into her pant's pocket.
" Maybe because your awake, luv," Spike answered, still examining the house with a thoughtful, head-tilted-to-the-side look. " I really may need a cig after this encounter."
" You know you should stop that." Buffy didn't look at him, but he looked at her. She knew looking at him would make this harder, and she had to get it done with. This needed to be said, and this was the best opportunity to do it. She needed to set her guidelines for Spike.
" You know they can't hurt me, luv. Nicotine may be addictive for the undead, but its not really going to make me deader."
" That's not what I meant. I mean you should stop.calling me luv." This time Buffy did turn to look at him, letting no emotion show on her face, staring him down like a mother scolding a child. If she showed the slightest affection he wouldn't get her point.
Meanwhile, Spike just stood there, that stricken look on his face like his favorite puppy had just been hit by a car. " Ah, it's the lecture again is it? If you don't like the name, pet, I can stop it."
" And you need to. All these names that make me sound like your.friend. Pet, luv, sugar, honey-bunch, whatever you feel the urge to call me, just quit it. I don't want to hear it from you. It still makes me squirm to hear you say my name. So no more. Please."
It occurred to her that she sounded pleading, but in a way she was. Every kind word or soft gesture he showed her just wanted to make her forgive him for his actions. Every time he smiled at her or showed concern, she felt like smiling back. And she couldn't. Not with a vampire. A soulless vampire that tried to hurt her.
Spike's expression looked more closed off now. She knew she'd hurt him, but she couldn't let herself care. He nodded slowly and smiled his defeated grin. " Whatever you say. I'm here to right my wrong, then I'll stay out of your way. Buffy."
He said the word louder, like he was trying to force it into her mind that he'd do whatever it took to atone, but she didn't spare him another glance, she couldn't, because her eyes suddenly seemed hot and blurry. She just turned and started up the creaky wooden steps to the witches' house.
Spike followed behind her, and even his footsteps seemed to sound heartbroken. She reached her hand out and then stopped, unsure about this whole situation. The list said that they were about to go up against a powerful witch and neither one of them had the kind of power to fight her. Buffy could kick her and they could hit her, but if she did magic on them, they couldn't fight that. And the only person they knew that could was.unavailable.
" You know," Spike said from behind her, " She may be a powerful witch, but I doubt she can hear you knocking with your hand that far away from the door."
Buffy scowled and smiled at the same time, praying that maybe it wouldn't be so hard to distance herself from Spike than she thought. " Well, its now or never," she told herself and rapped quickly on the wooden door.
They stood there for what seemed like a lifetime, before Buffy heard the creaking of someone walking on the inside. She took a step back from the door as it was opened. The woman in front of them was smiling, dressed in the formal garb you would expect of a reclusive wicca. " Can I help you?" She sounded perfectly normal, no evil at all, but Buffy concluded she wasn't a very good judge, seeing her best friend and assumedly the least harmful person in the world had attempted to destroy the world less than four months earlier.
" Yes you can." The woman stepped back to let them in, and Buffy took one last breath of fresh air as she walked forward into the musty old house of the smiling woman they were supposed to kill.