Covert Ops

A white hand dug into the black earth in a large terra cotta pot.  The other tucked the new roots of several cuttings of cestrum nocturnum, Nightblooming Jessamine, into the hole and separated them with more rich earth.  The two hands rubbed together, dislodging dark crumbs of loam before reaching up to move a lock of white hair from a forehead of the same hue.

After a quick pat Spike took the pot and set it behind the leafy datura where it would get little direct light.  "Bugger."  He muttered as he wiped his hands on the black apron around his waist. "Why do I do this?"

He hated gardening.  When he was alone it reminded him of the old days when Angelus and the others would putter the early evening away in some courtyard garden or other, trying to be genteel when all he wanted to do was forget his wanker upbringing.  The harsh and angry words that the old ponce would rain down upon his Dru's head as she managed to kill all the green things in her path.  These memories were nothing against the memories of Angelus's crude words that made his princess giggle in anticipation as they gardened at the Crawford Street mansion in Sunnyhell.  And him chair-bound unable to do not but watch.

He picked up another pot to carry it to the bench.  He fumbled it, tipping it on to its side and chipping the decorative edge.  "Bloody hell."  The suppressed curse echoed of the glass walls of the small courtyard conservatory.  "She'll be back tomorrow. She will be back tomorrow."  He chanted to himself.  A semblance of calm restored, he collected the pot and carried it around the raised stone edging of the central in-floor bed to place it on the workbench.  Titia had been in Bonn for four weeks and each day she was away increased his private torture.

He picked up a new bag of mixed soil and sliced it open with a black-painted nail.   The large pot took half the bag.  His eye was caught by the the close twinkle of a firefly.  He stood up and looked around him.  The small Victorian greenhouse jutted apsidal into the courtyard beyond.  Life hummed around him in the sultry air.   Small pale yellow moths visited the lush ivory flowers of the jasmine that climbed the trellis against the east wall.  Crickets thrummed from the courtyard beyond - enlivened by the unusual late May heat.   And in two short weeks he would be leaving this behind to walk Australian beaches in the early evening with Titia.

Titia.  She was only supposed to be gone for two weeks.  Back in time to renew their bonds without stress to either party.  The last two weeks were the longest he had ever endured.  His long trek across sea and land to Sunnydale with his Dru weak and helpless from their exploits in Prague seemed nothing in comparison.  His body trembled at times as the bonds of blood weakened.  His mind was fraught with anxiety over their loss.  Cranky and tired at work, he had been killing minions at a rate of three a week.

He took the second pot of cuttings and placed it beside the first.  He was drawn to this place, despite its stirring of old memories, because he and his love had spent many nights here before she left.  He had watched her weave gracefully amongst the potted flora selecting day-flowering plants to make way for the night-blooming ones.  Though she never said it, he knew she was doing it for him.  It was a gift of fragrant life.

He breathed in the symphony of scents.  The cotton candy of the chionanthus pygmaea potted to his left.  The vanilla of the orchids hanging riotously coloured behind him.  The cloying sappy smell of the sticky, waxy bloom of a hoya carnosa variegata hanging to his right.  Outside a Luna moth nuzzled the open yellow flower of an evening primrose, its pale green wings catching the moonlight.  He wished Titia was here to share this.  To see what her creativity had wrought. She'll be home soon.  He pulled the pack of fags from the sleeve of his black tee and sat down at the small round cast-iron table.  Smoke soon wound its discord through the harmony of scents around him.

This was the first time they had been separated since their Mating.  After most of the Spitfire biker gang had been decimated at their hand, Titia quickly went to Bonn to reorganize the office there.  That 'division' had taken a beating in a recent campaign that had killed a couple of trusted leaders.  Their loss had led to infighting and chaos.  By rights he should have been there to help, but his take-over here was so fresh that his absence could weaken his hold.  He had to stay.

He had help finish the hunt that flushed out the last demon-serving gang members.  And then begun the research and planning of attack against a local cocaine manufacturing lab that was responsible for the mysteriously liverless corpses the Montreal police had been finding in local rubbish bins.  They had found as they had expected, that the drug had been magically imbued to anchor the junkies lifeforce to a dimensional portal.  The hit was in just a few days.  Titia would be back and he would be in full charge of his faculties again.

He stood and untied the apron and draped it across his chair.  Looking around, he took in the small flutterings of life, before closing and locking the heavy iron and glass doors leading out into the courtyard.  He paused to enjoy the paling violet of the eastern sky then turned back to the shelter of the stone house.
 
 
 

Spike entered the dirt parking lot of the old municipal landing strip a good hour before Titia's expected arrival.  Within twenty minutes the red dirt was littered with the agitated prints of a Doc Martins patented sole.  Within forty minutes the area around his perch on the bonnet of his big black DeSoto FireFlite was strewn with a pack worth of fag ends.

He had been tracing what he expected was the lights of the Falcon 900 jet for ten minutes when he flicked the last of his smokes away and resumed pacing.  The satin sheen of his duster shimmered billowing about his legs as he paced for an aeon.  The jet made its approach and touched down to charge its way down the shiny new tarmac.  It's engines still roared as it kicked up small puffs of dust as it was parked on the dirt verge dwarfing a row of old Cessnas and three limos.

Spike stepped to the front of the car to watch through the gate of the chainlink fence.  The side door opened and the steps were lowered.  Titia was the first off.  Spike could still feel the glow in his mind brighten at her presence.  He was only dimly aware that others had disembarked behind her.  He stood not feeling the wind that lifted his hair or tugged at his coat.  The light of the plane made a halo of his Mate's red hair as she quickly closed the distance between them.  Her black-suited figure came through the gate at a run.  He stood transfixed.  A snarl ripped through the air as Titia threw herself across the bonnet of the car.  Spike twisted as she made contact sending them into the short cut grass behind the car.  The struggle was short as his superior strength won him her neck ending the predatory struggle.

"Oh fuck," he gasped as her powerful blood hit his throat.  He pulled away, his panting turning to a moan as his lover's fangs sank into him.

They growled and cooed to each other, no further human words escaped their lips.  Titia rolled him to his back; her fangs still lodged deep in his neck as she deftly undid his leather pants.  He pushed up her skirt to her waist exposing thigh-length black hose and french-cut silk panties.  A lengthened black-painted claw sliced away the flimsy barrier.  Titia's hand caught his rigid cock as it sprang free into the warm spring night.  She lifted up to seal the Claim on him.  He gasped as the warm night was replaced by her drenching heat.  She consumed him, then released him sending his mind into the no-man's-land between demonic passion and pure human love. The tide of physical ardour increased as she bit and licked his neck to the tempo of her movements.

Through the blood red haze, his mind registered the twinkling of stars overhead through the white cast of the distant city lights.  He was joyous in his helplessness, laughing and gasping as he was ridden beyond the bursting point into a shuddering climax.

Spike took the briefest second to enjoy the intoxicating pleasure before flipping Titia's unresisting body on her back.  He settled deep in her, his long black coat draped over their writhing forms.  He watched her demon's face slowly fade revealing to him the face he met only months before, but he knew he would never again live without.  He leaned down and licked his blood from her lips.  Pausing he slid his tongue between them, savouring the way he was buried deep in her heat.

Titia's taste was exquisite, her skin still fragrant with the sun.  He released her lips to lick along pale golden column of her neck.  She shuddered under him as his tongue met the fresh punctures of his mark.  Scents other than her own presented themselves to his tongue.  Human male, female, and vampire.  The scent of another vampire stirred his veins.  Though his rational mind knew none outside the family would tempt his Mate, the dark arcane power of his blood brooked no touch by another.  The magic of Claiming worked in him and he snarled into her neck.  His thrusts slapped against her as they groaned under the near painful pleasure of the final Mating bite.  They collapsed weakly to the ground as surges of blue energy lapped through them, their minds lost in its undertow.

...

Titia wasn't sure how long they had lain on the grass beneath the great chrome bumper of Spike's DeSoto.  She could still hear the distant clamour of the jet being unloaded.  The sounds were distinct but she couldn't concentrate on them.  Her body was too aware of her Mate's contented purring and the soft brush of his mock breath on his marks about her neck.  She wanted to feel his cool skin against hers and to again feel the thrust of his powerful body in her. Oh God, I missed him.  She took a deep breath of his scent.  She wanted to eat it off him, make it part of her.

She pulled away to look at him with human eyes. Her rousing caused the deep rumble beneath her to lessen.  He raised his head to flash her his most charming smile, "Hello, Kitten." His eyes sparkled with love and mischief

She laughed, "Hello, Spike," as she smoothed the unruly locks of his blond hair.

"Shall we take this party home?" His lips brushed her hair.

"Yes," she sighed caught between losing the pleasure of the now to gain the pleasure of the future.  Her body mourned his loss as he pulled away and stood.  He casually zipped himself in then offered his hand.  She stood with his help on unsteady legs and smoothed her skirt, noticing the ruin of her hose.  She took a couple of deep breaths of the country air before releasing him to walk around to the passenger door.  Sinking down into the newly restored leather of the DeSoto's bench seat, she felt at home as Spike started the car and pealed out onto the narrow country road.

...

"What?  Where you Turned five minutes ago?  We stick to the plan.  Let us go over it again, children."  Spike shrugged off the inane suggestion and looked down at the plans on the table lit by harsh fluorescent light.  Its green cast heightened the cold luminescence of his hand as it held down the corner of the detailed yet amateur drawing of their target building and the surrounding block.  It's time to Turn a bleedin' architect .  Percy's drawings were decidedly better than average having taken a few years of mechanical engineering before taking up the life of a sailor.

He looked over to the stocky man, whose broad handsome features were topped by an incongruous mop of blond curls.  "Percy, you said this alley," Spike ran his finger along the centre alley that halved the block lengthways, "was wide enough for a utility van.  With doors open and easy movement around it?"

The ex-sailor gave an assured nod.  Spike looked back to the plans.  "No sewer or utility tunnel access?"

"Not as far as we were able to find, Master.  We checked the area physically and went through the city plans.  This is an old city and it is possible there is access that is just not recorded."  Percy told Spike, looking confidently into the vampire's eyes.

The Master was beginning to really like this strong individual.  At first, Spike had thought that the human was  like many of the others that worked for their cause, blinded to danger by an almost religious attachment to Titia and her calling.  But Percy's wit and lack of fear stemmed from a greater rationale and experience.  He stood in this room, alone in his humanity, and he was unafraid.  The man understood his worth and believed himself equal to his non-human coworkers in his ability to perform his job.  This is why Spike had pried him away from the day staff to team lead part of the night crew.  Through the Master's threats and Percy's own natural confidence, the minions followed him.

"Okay, Percy.  You will take the lorry moving westward and pull in here," Spike pointed to the driveway across the street, "pulling in far enough that the troops can unload out the back and still have cover.  You will remain to coordinate.  Bella will approach from the west and enter here." He tapped the back alley behind the neighbouring building.  He looked at the serene face of the brown-haired vamp across the table to see her nod.  "Drive in so the van doors can offer some protection."  He stepped back from the table to survey the twenty demons and one human involved in this project.  He had their rapt attention.  "I will take up a position on the tower on the neighbouring building prior to your scheduled arrival at 2400 to keep any potential snipers from the roof and clean a path through the upper floors.  By 2410, I will be blocking the back exit, while Percy's crew enters from the front and Bella's crew blows the basement loading doors.  At 2430, I will have cleaned up the portal and will be setting the charge.  I want every one out by then."  Nods confirmed their attention.  "All right children, this should be easy and straight forward.  We pull this off timely and we will all be rewarded by the long warm nights of Sydney."

Spike looked around the bare room as his minions left.  I have to get rid of that fluorescent.  But it was still infinitely preferable to the posh meeting rooms Titia used.  He could picture her now where she sat three stories above in her boardroom verbally wrestling with the board members.  She looked all natural surrounded by her fine expensive taste.  He on the other hand had spent most of this century in crypts and abandoned buildings.  This harsh room better suited his purposes.  He looked down at his arm were Titia's fine taste had placed a ten thousand dollar Breitling.  Its handsome stainless and gold casing was dulled by the awful light.  It was 3:30 am; her meeting would be out soon.  He headed for the stairs to find out.

 ...

Titia could feel Spike's presence drawing closer.  It was time to round this meeting up regardless of how little of the agenda they had accomplished.  She stood and started to pack her briefcase even though Viszerray continued to drone on about the current state of the Dran'nak clan and the lack of board support for their quest to establish a permanent home.  The large doughy looking mauve demon continued as his large liquid purple eyes watched the Chair's apparent disinterest.

"Viszerray.  What was wrong with the island in James Bay?  The habitat was perfect.  Nice balmy 10 C in the summer with all the bugs you could eat.  Nice cool -60 C for hibernation in the winter.  Your advisory said it was perfect."  Titia watched as the demon shuffled his papers.

He turned his mournful face to her. "It was put to the clan and they thought it was too isolated."

"I was under the impression that you wanted to preserve your culture and not to enter into tourism."  She snapped her briefcase shut.  "You best go back to your advisory committee and talk to the clan.  They need to decide their priorities.  Is it culture or shopping?"  She turned and addressed the Board.  "I'm officially adjourning this meeting until after tomorrow's mission.  See you all Thursday."

Titia let out a mental sigh as she headed to the door and Spike who stood just beyond.  She opened the heavy wooden door and stepped out into her Mate's cool embrace to sigh for real.  "Can we go home now?"

He hugged her and led her to the stairwell and the car.

They drove in quiet companionship through the dark city streets just happy to be back at each other's side.  Titia could feel the contentment of her Mate in the ephemeral energy that passed between them.  She listened the muted pucketa-pucketa of the pump-injected TDI engine as she turned the silver Passat up the old street.  As they rolled through the distinctive neighbourhood with its trim hedges and stonewalls, she broke the silence. "I take it your strategy meeting went well."

Spike nodded.  "Yeah.  Percy and  Bella have their teams well in hand.  We've seen no reason to believe they are on to us.  Are you worrying, pet?"

Titia shook her head but kept her eyes on the road.  "No, this is straight forward and they might prepared for police but not for vampires.  I'm just -"

"Worried.  Don't be.  They're just vamps and humans.  Hell, I dealt with worse when I was aiding the Slayer."

Titia nodded.   She knew this, but it was her vampire, her Mate that would be going under fire.  Every part of her body felt the need to protect him and not to let him go off and do it alone.  But he has to do this without me.  It's proof of his ability to lead.  It's what we need him to do.  It's his purpose.  She tried to rationalize as she turned into their tree-lined drive and drove around the old stone house to the carriage house at the back.  She should feel better now that the chip was out. Sighing, she keyed the remote door opener and parked the car between the DeSoto and the Jaguar.   The Volkswagen's compact austere design looked out of place nexted to the ostentatious curves of two dark-painted classics.

They stepped free of the garage as Titia triggered the heavy wood paneled door to descend behind them.  Spike offered his arm and led her into the courtyard garden.  Their movement set off the motion sensor and small low lights lit the stone pathway like small pixie fires amongst the lush growth.  Datura flowers glowed like many pale moons against their dark leaves and the evening primroses were yellow scented beacons for pale fluttering wings.

The late May heat had broke and the air was chilled by the breeze off the Sea-way.  They paused momentarily to enjoy the early morning.  Titia smiled at the garden framed by the grey stone walls.  This place was hard won and a favoured possession.  It had once been the only balm for her spirits.  She stepped back to lean against Spike and his strong arms encircled her.  That this house was no longer the only source of renewal didn't lessen its beauty or the sense of peace.

The vampire nuzzled her hair.  "Why don't you head for the conservatory and I will bring us a drink." He released her and unlocked the backdoor into the house's central lobby.  Titia heard him turn off the alarm as she turned and walked in behind him.  He took her briefcase and headed into the east wing to the study and its small parlour.  Titia watched him go before walking down the hall to the west wing and the large parlour off the dining room.

This end of the house was little used.  Titia never had the time to entertain clients in her home and no time for acquaintances outside work.  So the dining room and parlour stood pristine and free of memories.  The only beings to pass here were her housekeeper, herself, and her Mate.  Kat probably had a better sense of these rooms than Titia, since the housekeeper was the source of their cleanliness.

For some reason Spike's arrival here had triggered a renewed interest in the old conservatory.  He was so alive and at one with the world, in a way that she hadn't been in years.  Once the balance of flora and fauna had been her primary concern.  The way it existed naturally compared to the way it behaved with the inclusion of human activities.  Now all she had time for was natural human activities and how they changed under outside influences.

Titia shook her head free of work and absorbed her surrounding.  The old conservatory was like a metaphor, an allegory for Spike.  Its outward face was white painted iron and sparkling beveled facets.  Inside was dark, mysterious and old, yet sheltered vibrant life.  It even smelt like him; the musk of earthy loam; and the sweet come-hither scent of the pungent night blossoms.

She stretched.  She was still sore from her homecoming celebrations with her Mate last night, but most of the bruising had already faded and the fang punctures scabbed by the time she had dressed this afternoon.  She smiled as she sat on the heavy victorian cast-iron settee under the orchids.  A slight sheen of moisture clung to her as the greenhouse shared its store of the day's heat.  Titia took off her black jacket and draped it over the back of the bench. She sat back against the decoration metal and unbuttoned her blouse.

Yawning, she closed her eyes as she felt the warm glow of Spike's approach.  She heard steps cross the wood floor, then muffling rug, then down the steps and then, "here you go, love."  She returned the vampire's smile as she took the glass of port from him.  He was such a comforting sight in his usual black T-shirt and jeans as he sat down to put his arm around her.

Titia watched him as he studied his surroundings.  His face was cool pale glow juxtaposed with the dark branches of the Norfolk pine beside them.  "Thank you for this place, Kitten.  Spent many mornings here while you were gone."

"I can tell."  She nodded to the many pots worth of young plants sprinkled in amongst the mature ones. "You did a lot of work."

"Well had to do something, didn't I."  Spike pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and dug out his lighter.  With a snap and a click light flared briefly painting the leaves around them a brighter green before flicking back into darkness. "I thought I was going to go crazy.  I got Kat to order some more pots, I broke a few."

Titia nodded with understanding.  The first three weeks after her departure had been bad enough, but the last one had been pure torture.  The European office really needed her for another month to supervise the re-organization but she couldn't stay.  Every meeting had started to end in raised voices, with her vamped and with her fangs at someone's throat.  If she had stayed any longer she would have killed someone and the forces there were already depleted.  The trip back on the plane had been excruciating.  The vamps seated in the luxury of the plane's passenger compartment had raised her blood.  Their proximity was too close bringing out dark territorial urgings.  Titia had felt the focus of their senses on her and knew they felt her agitated, aggressive state.  It had freed her from the usual come-ons and allowed her the space to trance herself for the six-hour journey.

The woman curled closer to her Mate laying her head on his shoulder so that every breath tasted of him.  His presence warmed her despite or maybe because of his cool skin.  Vampire.  My vampire.  She hadn't remembered much from her landing last night.  She didn't have a clear memory of most of the flight.  But his sudden presence had passed into her hypnotic state and snapped into her awareness.  With the trance broken and Spike's closeness, her demon rose much to the surprise of some of her regular passengers and the steward.

Somehow she hadn't killed the co-pilot and steward as they failed to open the door and lower the stairs fast enough.  Her only thought had been to get to this being before anything else could -to claim him and make him hers in a way the nothing and no one could come between.  It had been primal.  So basely human and demon, so feral that she couldn't have differentiated her two selves if she tried.  She kissed the neck before her, then climbed to straddle his lap.  His face was beautiful and serene now but the passion was there under that thin veneer.  Beautiful and deadly, like shark, serpent and panther.

Her Mate was perfect.  Their eyes never left each other's as their lips met.  Their kisses never lacked passion, even when tempered by tenderness.  She pulled away to roll his scent over her tongue, tasting it, analyzing it.  She knew from what sparkled through the dark liquid depth of his eyes that he understood as he too panted in her scent.

He pulled her silk shirt free from where it clung to her body and placed it with her jacket.  She reached down and tugged his tee gently free of his pants.  Pulling it over his head,she dropped it on the bench beside them.  Titia kissed a path down his neck over the pebbled surface left by her fangs in last night's ferocity.  That wonderful surface was damp with condensation.  The muscles under her hand were, as always, caught in that state between tension and relaxation.  She nibbled along his jaw and was rewarded with a sigh in her ear.  She could worship him for hours this way, her lips forming prayer lines across his skin.  But it could never last that long.  She smiled against his breast as deft strong hands unbuttoned her pants and unhitched her bra, freeing her breasts so they fell against his skin.  Shoes and socks came off next.  She stood stepping out of her pants and panties, before helping Spike free of his.

He reached out in the near darkness to pull her back astride his lap, pressing the length of her torso to his cool chest.  Titia rose up on her knees, sliding her nipples along his satin skin to kiss along the fine arched curve on his brow, before tilting his head to sickle his full bottom lip.  William was always so perfect.  He knew how his hands felt right against her hot flesh.  He knew how to stir the demon in her just enough to use its wild force to power her own wanton nature.  Spike had told her once through his wicked grin, that he knew when he had the mix just right by the unfocused look in her eyes and by the slight parting of her lips.  She could have answered back in kind.  Even here in the dark seeing only the pale glow of his skin she knew clearly every set of his features.

Lords, I bloody well hate waiting.  Spike readjusted his perch under the two-metre wide microwave dish.  His black leather duster hung down below the metal strut he crouched upon, like bloody Batman waiting for the bleedin' Batsignal.

He leaned back against an upright and looked out across an older section of Montreal Island.   He could smell the St. Lawrence from where its flow twinkled, barely visible in the distance.  Titia was right; he liked the city.   It had all the fun and diversity of the New World, but was dark and old enough for his kind to feel comfortable.  Despite this, he would be happy when this mission finally tied up.  The nights here were now too short, making the Sydney trip seem better all the time.

He wasn't looking forward to the flight.   The plane north had been his first.   He was sure if he had still been alive, the barf bag would have been his best friend.   He remembered the edge of terror he felt as they loaded Titia's and his motors onto that large but way-too-fragile-looking vehicle.   He had been amazed it left the ground.

Things had come along as planned since they had arrived.   The Montreal minions had put up more of a fight than LA.   Many of them had been with Titia since the beginning.  With his quick dusting of the more influential rebels and the loyalty of the returning troops, his take-over had still been achieved with minimal loss.

He scanned the street in both directions.  The first team had arrived.   The plain white cubevan had pulled in and parked four blocks west.   He studied the east. There they are.   The red Dodge Ram van moved slowly westward two blocks away.

He dropped to the rooftop.   He walked west along the roof's edge following the white van with his gaze.  With a burst of speed, he leapt the alley to the next building.   His leather clad figure cutting a fine imitation of DC comic's Dark Avenger.  The red van pulled into the alleyway across the street.    He ran to the back of the building to see the cubevan pull into the side alley a few doors down.

He located the roof hatch.   He watched the face of the Breitling on his wrist as it glittered steel and eighteen karat in the moonlight.   Two impatient minutes later, he opened the hatch and dropped down to the hallway below.

He met little resistance as he made his way to the basement.  Standing in the dark back stairwell, he blocked the potential escape route as he heard the loading bay doors explode and chaos ensue.  A stake in each hand, he leapt into the fray.  Vamps were dust before him and mortals were left unconscious in his path.

By the time he made it to the centre of the main room, the enemy was contained.  He left the cleanup to the minions, pausing only breifly to drink a warm mouthful from one of the less lucky human casualties before heading to the back room and the ultimate purpose of this campaign.

The white metal door gave under his steel-toed boot, swinging inward to crack against the stainless steel lab counter.   He stepped through the doorway encountering none.   The cold white room hummed to the tune of fluorescent lights and fume hoods.   He strode past the uninteresting plastic bags of white powder to the far wall.   There hung an ornate gold-framed silver mirror above a table strewn with offerings.   The wall around it rippled in Daliesque horror.  A dark glistening carpet of finger-sized fungi waved into the air as concentric rings of energy flowed outward from the mirror.

Spike stepped toward the fevered nightmare and pulled a silver blade from the sheath hidden inside his duster.   He scanned the shrine arranged against the undulating back wall.   He looked past the bowls of blood and bile dusted with cocaine, to the mirror.  The golden tortured figures and gargoyles of the gold frame looked at themselves in the shimmering silver surface.   As Spike stepped closer, a head with shocking white blond hair joined the golden reflections.   His attention was temporally caught by this rare glimpse of himself.   A face so familiar yet alien.   He resisted the temptation to smooth the unruly locks of blond.

The magical reflection of the vampire gazed out at its true self.  Its smooth brow slowly sifted and thickened, arching to reveal startlingly demonic yellow eyes.  It smiled, revealing large yellowed canines red with blood.  Spike stared in wonder as the image receded, its dark coat flapping like bat wings.  He was looking at himself as pure demon.  Freedom and dark lust filled his mind in black cold waves.  The vampire gritted human teeth and the distant demonic reflection mimicked him.

Spike stepped forward his eyes still on the image with its swirling coat and gloating stare, and raised the silver knife to strike.  The golden carved figures of the frame turned to hiss and strike at him with small claws and teeth.  His leather coat sleeve with stood their efforts as his knife stuck the shimmering membrane at the heart of his damning reflection.   It gave way like Saran-wrapped Jell-O under his thrust.  Swallowing his arm to elbow before the surface was taut enough for the blade to pierce.  It popped like a blister. Its shimmering skin dulled and sagged; its internal fluids ran like silvery mercury down the wall.  The room shifted and bent as the world beyond the portal surrendered its hold.  The wall of mushrooms sagged and stilled.  The image of demonic pureness was gone.

"Yuck."  Spike muttered, flicking the clinging silvery substance from his stiletto and hand.   He shook away the sickening longing that still cling to his mind and walked to the centre island to wash in the stainless steel sink.   He dried off and stood surrounded on three sides by the harsh stark bright world of this reality.  He studied briefly the fourth side that still looked like an installation by some demented artist.  The brown slick mushrooms dripped frozen in their hurricaning spiral toward the mirror.  The gilt carved figures looked outward stilled but echoing the gloating mockery of his vanished reflection.

He turned back to the centre island.   He replaced the knife in its sheath and opened the under-counter doors.   He turned on the propane tanks and the lab gas taps to full.   He pulled a small device from his pocket and pressed it onto a canister.   Checking the gold and black face of his watch, he paused before pressing the proper combination.   He walked quickly from the room.

"Out you bloody idiots!"  He bellowed, scattering the stray minions that were still feeding on victims as he strode for the main floor.   He hit the street long before the blast went off.  "Percy!  Damage report."  He watched as the blond Newfoundlander made a few brisk calls on his cell phone.

"Two dusted, one injured and on the way home."

Spike nodded, "Go home.  We'll meet an hour after sundown . . ." His eye was caught by an approaching vehicle.  A smile grew on his face as he recognized the old jaguar saloon car, so incongruous with the run down neighbourhood, ". . . tomorrow to go over your report." He stepped around his Lead to look at the chatty group of vamps. "Good work, mates."  He slapped Percy on the shoulder before walking away.

The wind from the Sea-way blew down the street, snapping his duster out around his legs as he approached the burgundy car purring a short distance from his team.  "Couldn't stay away could you, love?"

"Sorry, Spike."  Titia said as he slid into the dark, tan leather passenger seat.  "It's just . . . well, it's the culmination of your planning and your first raid and . . ."

"And you had a hard time letting go of control."  He laughed, as she tried to deny the concern on her face.  "Everything went as planned.   I'm here,"  he opened his coat, "not a scratch."

She squeezed his hand, before pulling away from the curve.  "Let's go home and I'll see for myself."

end

The Meaning of Clan