REMNANT : Buffy, the Vampire Slayer meets Batman and the Red Rider

REMNANT: Buffy, the Vampire Slayer meets Batman and the Red Rider - Chapter 5.

Even in the chill of night, the Harbinger Shop smelled fresher inside than it looked. The counter and old-fashioned register were situated near the wall, and a round pedestal table sat near the doorway, with a pair of wicker chairs on either side of it and a crystal ball in its center. Nothing more could be determined about the room's furnishings, for every inch of it was covered with stacks and piles of ornate wooden boxes, candles of every length, thick dusty tomes written in various ancient languages, and assorted containers of every shape and size, filled with assorted herbs, roots, and spices. Some items gave off a foul or irritating smell, but most of them provided a strangely inviting mix of aromas, ranging from ginger and turmeric to hints of freshly mown grass and a smoldering campfire. It was impossible to determine whether these were the actual smells those herbs produced, or a hallucination of one's personal memories, from something in the hypnotic atmosphere that brought back the familiar smells of a happier time.

Spike rolled his wheelchair into the parlor with a squeak, as the Harbinger Shop's bell chimed to announce a new customer. He sneered at the annoying sound. With a gaunt face, silvery blond hair, and a blood red shirt and black overcoat, he was used to drawing attention to himself. He disliked having some bell announce his arrival for him.

Not that it mattered anymore. He could no longer intimidate anyone, even a human. A few months prior, he could easily threaten anyone who dared to oppose him, even his fellow vampires. As for mere human fodder, he could normally spring at victims to drain their necks dry in a matter of seconds. Now he was barely a vampire at all, pushing himself around in this wheelchair like a sad excuse for demonkind.

He had certainly seen happier times, when he and his lover, Dru, arrived at Sunnydale last Fall. But Buffy Summers had bested him time and again, like no other Slayer had, and it had worn on his pride.

Still, the Slayer's cocky attitude and victories were nothing compared to the humiliation that Angel now dealt him on a daily basis. Ever since Spike's paralyzing accident and the loss of Angel's soul, Angel had swooped in to slowly take over their small gang. He had belittled Spike right in front of Dru, while seducing her away from him. Spike no longer worried about the Slayer or Sunnydale or finding a fresh neck to feed on.

He simply wanted Angel gone.

An elderly woman emerged from a rear doorway, entering through full-length curtains with a pattern that nearly matched the pattern of clutter in the room. Her hair was full and silvery white atop a face etched with age and laugh lines around her eyes. As the camouflaged drapes closed behind her, they blended into the confusion of items littering the walls and seemed to disappear entirely. "Back so soon, William?" the woman greeted with a smirk.

He pulled his wheelchair to a halt and met her gaze, jutting his chin up at her. "It's 'Spike'," he corrected in a clipped tone. "I need some more of your remedy."

The woman's eyes crinkled with delight. "Of course," she said. "That's what I'm here for, keeping the store open late my frequent rendezvous with Spike." She glided behind the counter, the ends of her long robes trailing behind her like a ghost. "Of course, I can do much more for you, if you let me."

Spike soured with clear disgust. "Don't flatter yourself, Delvina," he said. "You're not my type. Or my age bracket."

From behind the counter, Delvina Reyes retrieved a small cauldron and a couple of vials. She emptied the vials' contents into the cauldron, then waved her hand over the side of it. Spike watched the kettle turn red with heat, as though it had been set over an open flame.

"I'm younger than you, dear boy," she said. "Humans simply don't wear their age as well as vampires."

"Your problem, Grandma, not mine," Spike said nonchalantly.