- Hank Moody Divorce With A Smile Guide
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Gathering Shadows
' David William Duchovny is best known for starring in The X-Files and Californication. He played FBI Agent Fox Mulder and Hank Moody, which he won respective Golden Globes for.' 'The X-Files (Just started watching this again on Netflix and remembering how much I love Mulder and Scully!' 'The X-Files.
November 2004
Cleveland
Good Lord, Giles thought, listening to the hymn with a neutral expression even as he inwardly cringed. 'Onward, Christian Soldiers.' Who had chosen it, made this terrible day tacky on top of everything else?
A memorial service wasn't, fortunately, something he had to attend very often. They never had one for Buffy, wanting to keep the death of the notorious Slayer quiet, and most of the others he had been to were for Watchers, older people. Saying goodbye to a nineteen-year-old slayer was something he'd never wanted to do.
He hadn't known Natalie that well. She had been from Indiana, a military brat. She had been an avid cyclist, a collector of shot glasses, and was apparently known as an expert shopper among the other young women. Before they had pulled her body out of the pit, he hadn't been aware of any of those things.
Giles glanced down at Buffy, another shopping diva. She stood next to him, her face serene and giving nothing away. She hadn't been close to the younger slayer, either. Angel loomed on her other side, his hand at her waist. His Slayer was safe, but Giles felt so bad for Angus McGann, Natalie's Watcher. He'd walked the same dark path when Buffy leapt from the tower.
Of course, he hadn't had the same anger to contend with. A large part of the grieving Watcher's rage was aimed at the pointless cowardice behind Natalie's death. Someone had dug a large, deep hole in one of the grassy areas around the gym, lined the bottom with jutting stakes, and rolled strips of sod over the top. After the fifth battle, she had gone to the gym for some reason, no one knew exactly why, left the sidewalks to take a shortcut across the lawn, and fallen into the pit. Xander had found her body the next day, and the only mercy was that one of the stakes had gone through her eye and into her brain. Death had been immediate.
Xander had called him, then the police, and stayed with the body. Spike came with him and McGann to the gym, and having a literal bloodhound along had been a lifesaver: there were other booby traps. While they had been fighting the fifth battle, a team of unknown humans had rigged the gym and the grounds around it to take out slayers. Between Spike, Oz, and Angel, they had found all the places with freshly-disturbed earth, trip wires, frayed electrical cords, chemical-filled light bulbs, and teetering bottles of acid. Even the floor of the showers had been sprayed with cooking oil to make the tile dangerously slippery.
Rupert thought that things were going well; they hadn't lost anyone in five battles. In the last two, the demons still had more weapons than previously, but no guns, and both had been straightforward fights. Now he was operating under the assumption that the fourth battle had simply happened before whoever was arming the hordes was ready for the sabotage.
Giles hired Angel as a consultant again, this time to put security measures in place at the gym, Watcher Central, and the residences of anyone who worked for the Council and felt unsafe. Angel had signed off on enough Wolfram and Hart invoices from bio-identification firms to know what was available, which companies to call, and which to avoid. Rupert would have gladly paid for the security upgrade himself, but Charles Gunn and his colleagues at Ronson, Ferguson, and Ronson had gotten the Swiss banks to open the frozen accounts, so the Council had more than enough money again.
Andrew and Willow had also gone through the gym and Watcher Central. Andrew had found listening devices in Giles' office and in the living room, small, sophisticated voice-activated bugs which didn't transmit, but were designed to record passively and be picked up at a later date. Tellingly, Andrew had been impressed with the technology, the amount of available storage. There were other, less sophisticated bugs in the gym, which he scoffed at. Willow hadn't found any magical surveillance or other spells, which made Giles feel both relieved and uneasy.
In the row in front of him, McGann's shoulders shook, and he covered his face with his hands. Giles felt awful for letting his mind wander; Natalie deserved his full attention. Vishnaswamy stood next to her fellow Watcher, her small brown hand on his back. McGann's grief was terrible, but his wrath was even greater, and he had been adamant about firing the person he blamed for Natalie's death. Rupert glanced across the aisle.
Spike and Dawn were on either side of Kayla, who was in worse shape than McGann, sobbing into Spike's handkerchief. Giles knew Kayla blamed herself for Natalie's death; he'd have a talk with her later today, make her understand that these things were never certain. Kayla's former Watcher, Carolyn Greene, was on her way back to London to find other employment.
Kayla had gone to Caro the morning of the battle, troubled by a dream she had about Natalie. The Watcher brushed it aside, since Kayla had never had a Slayer dream before; indeed, none of the slayers called by Willow's spell had a verifiable prophetic dream to date.
Not reassured, Kayla had asked Spike (the sole ground commander since Giles pulled Buffy to find the energy source) to put her on the same team as Natalie during the fight. Nothing had happened in the fifth battle, so the Minnesota slayer had believed it was just a normal bad dream. Giles hadn't known Kayla's grief was different from any of the other young women until Greene came to him, white-faced, and admitted that she had failed her slayer by not taking her dreams seriously.
Unfortunately, McGann heard about the lapse. While Giles, wanting to first talk to Kayla, was still wrestling with whether to reassign Greene, Angus stormed into his office demanding that the other Watcher be fired. When they emerged, Caro had been outside his door, tears on her face, having listened to the whole conversation. She resigned on the spot.
He brought himself sharply back to the moment. Natalie's body would be on its way to her parents in Indiana in less than an hour. Giles wished he had more for them, some reassurance that their daughter's killers would be found, but neither the Council nor the police had turned up any clues. He couldn't imagine how her parents must be feeling. At least Buffy's death had purpose.
Giles had asked Aubrey to speak last, and the elderly man was making his ponderous way to the podium. This speech would be for the Cleveland slayers that remained, with Willingham using his considerable corporate memory to tie them to the long line of Slayers and reaffirm their mission. The Head of the Watchers Council sighed and let his attention wander once more, this time to form a rare prayer that Aubrey would not have to make this speech again.
⸹
Dawn decided to stay with Kayla overnight. She still had enough of her things in her old room at Watcher Central that it wasn't a big production to stay. Spike watched them walk toward Dawn's Jeep, his Nibblet's arm around the shorter girl, then turned back to the room where the funeral home staff were closing the coffin.
Natalie had been a steady slayer, neither his best student nor someone who needed a lot of work. Life, he thought, was most unfair for people like her; neither stellar nor abysmal, they seemed to get lost in the shuffle. But she had been a slayer, anything but ordinary, and she was one of his. He and Angel were going to try again, heading away from the gym in increasing circles in an attempt to track down the scent of the humans who had killed what was his. Spike's gaze met the brown eyes, letting him know it was time, then he turned away before he would have to see Angel say goodbye to the Slayer.
His plan to, as Dawn put it, 'starve her out' worked about as well as any of his plans. Buffy was still with Angel. In fact, the big vampire was his main source of information about her these days. She was going on with her life without any drama, going to school, patrolling, even getting her driver's license. Spike caught her watching him sometimes, but he did his share of watching, too, hungry for any glimpse of her. There had been nothing else.
Angel came up beside him, and he nodded shortly in greeting. The two Aurelians headed to the big, black truck without discussion, though it meant Buffy would drive herself home. Angel winced every time she got behind the wheel of his classic Mustang. She was trying to get him to buy the necrotempered Camry from Giles, though the memory of Connor's teasing made the prospect less than appealing.
'Gym first?' Angel asked, glancing over at the boy as he buckled up. Even virtually indestructible beings like him appreciated safety restraints when riding with Spike.
'Yeah, get a fresh whiff of a stale trail.'
After a few minutes of silence, Angel threw out something that had been on his mind. 'I've been thinking, and I don't think the bugs Andrew found in Giles' office were planted by the same people who set the traps at the gym.'
Spike raised an eyebrow, turning to Angel as he made a left turn. 'Why not?'
'The guns in the third battle, the sabotage… feels like the same people responsible. Eavesdropping devices that are passive, it just doesn't fit.' He shrugged. 'The first two, they want to be known, want us to be nervous. I understand the thinking behind the first two.'
'You would.' Swiftly, sorry for those words, Spike plowed on. 'It's the fact that the traps were laid by humans that rings false. Why would humans do this?'
'Xander mentioned the Initiative.' Angel examined the blond man, curious about his reaction.
'Wondered the same thing,' Spike said. 'Can't swear that I'd know the scent of every whoreson who served in the Sunnydale Initiative, but not a lot of them survived the fight with Adam, anyway. These humans we're after don't bunk or shower together. They don't smell enough alike.'
Angel nodded in agreement. This was grim business, because they would most likely kill the humans if they found them. While Spike hadn't been as furious as when Eve had taken Angel, the enraged vampire had scared his slayers as they began showing up when the news spread the morning that Natalie's body was found, until Dawn arrived and calmed him.
Angel waited until they parked next to the back doors. 'I'm sorry about your slayer,' he said. It was the first time they had a quiet moment since well before the fifth battle.
'Thanks.' Spike made himself smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Angel scooted across the bench seat and put a hand on Spike's knee. After a moment, the blond man turned and accepted the offered comfort, their foreheads touching, eyes closed. Spike stayed still for almost two minutes, but pulled away before he really relaxed. 'Let's get to it.'
After fixing the scents in their minds, the two vampires struck east, beginning the first circle at a quarter of a mile from the gym, increasing the distance a quarter-mile each time they finished a loop. Both moved with stealth, but fast, the gait they would use to approach mobile prey. The shifting winds made progress slow nonetheless.
Long after he'd come to believe their search was futile, Angel lifted his face, turning his head toward a tang of something familiar. They were almost four miles away from the slayer training center, walking across a road construction site that had been snarling traffic as long as they had been in Cleveland.
Spike caught his hesitation and breathed in, his eyes fixing, as had Angel's, on a trailer left on the site. Since it wasn't a residence, no threshold magic kept them out. Spike broke down the door with a casual kick.
'Getting to be pretty good at that,' Angel commented, keeping a straight face.
Spike glanced at him but didn't reply. They prowled through the office, noting the litter of coffee cups, extra hard hats, blueprints, and other construction paraphernalia. After half a minute, their eyes met. 'Four of them.'
'That's what I got, too.' He looked around again. 'Why would a construction crew…?'
'Freelance?'
'Compelled?'
Spike raised an eyebrow at this. 'Huh.' He looked around again, then absently gave the old hand signal for 'fall back.'
Angel smiled a little. Once he would have corsicated himself for thinking fondly of anything from those heady days of hunting. He could forgive himself these days; after all, those tactics were now in employ of the good. He had switched sides at Whistler's prompting over eight years ago, and only recently had he allowed himself to use all the weapons in his arsenal. Spike had been back among the corporeal for a year now, and they had been fighting on the same side for somewhat less. They were still a good team.
The contentment faded as they walked in silence back to the gym. They were a good team, but nothing compared to the team Spike and Buffy made. He hadn't seen that for over a month. Buffy had never gone into detail about her brush with infidelity – he didn't really want details – but the two of them wouldn't look at each other anymore. Apart, they were all right. It was only when they were in the same room that he got a sense of how desperately unhappy they both were. Angel thought with longing of the few hours of peace they had spent as Buffy healed, of the only family bed suited for vampires with souls.
Glancing over at Spike as they moved through the darkness like two sentient shadows, he stifled a sigh. Making a bid to bring the boy back to the family bed had probably been a mistake. The Master had been more distant since then, and Angel couldn't tell if it was because he didn't want it or if he felt wrong for wanting it. But what was a mistake at present might pay off in the future. One of the best things about being a vampire was having time to plant ideas and wait for them grow and bear fruit.
Spike surprised him by going to the truck instead of into the gym. 'Thinkin' we get Dog-boy to make a firm ID during daylight hours, and Red to bring them in. Best if it's her show, and Rupert's.'
Surprised again that Spike didn't want to work them over himself, Angel limited himself to asking, 'Do you want me to be there?'
'Yeah,' he replied with a fleeting grin, 'you can loom in the background and crack your knuckles.'
The silence was better after that, more companionable, and when they were outside his apartment, Angel made the offer. 'Come in for a while.'
'Can't.'
Angel heaved a sigh. 'Nothing to do with the family bed, Will. Just because you're her friend.'
The boy looked at him, his eyes tired and a simple blue. 'We'll never be friends.'
They regarded each other for a long time, the echo of that long-ago pronouncement hanging over them. Then Angel put his hand on Spike's nape and pulled him in for a brief hug, touched foreheads, and kissed his cheek. 'See you tomorrow.' Leaving the truck, he went inside his apartment. Buffy was sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in her hand and another waiting on the coffee table for him.
'Did you find anything?'
He sat down next to her. 'We did,' he said heavily, and he told her about the surprising discovery that humans involved in the long-standing road construction project had been the ones responsible, finishing up with the theory that they might not have had a choice and Spike's plan for interrogation.
Buffy nodded her agreement when he told her that Giles would be the one in charge. 'He'll get it out of them.' She sent him a warped little smile. 'He's never let me see it, but I hear he's much more efficient than Angelus when it comes to torture.'
'Well, for Angelus, the point never really was to get information,' he said, his voice dry. It seemed like a good time to change the topic. 'I invited Spike in, but he wouldn't come.'
She sent him a swift look laced with guilt, then looked away. 'I-I'm not surprised.' Just to have something to do, she took a sip of wine. 'He doesn't want to see me anymore.'
'Of course he does, Buffy,' Angel said, taking the goblet from her. He put it down next to his untouched glass and turned back to capture her hands. 'He wants to be around you more than anything else.' Angel leaned in close and kissed her. Plant the seeds, he thought, and was surprised how good it felt to be sneaky. 'It doesn't bother me,' another kiss, 'and I'm not jealous.' He let go of her hands and began undoing the buttons of her blouse. 'I miss him, too, you know.' Moving back against the couch so that he was behind her, he brushed the shirt from her shoulders and began trailing a series of kisses along her collarbone to her neck as he settled his hands at her waist. 'One of my favorite memories is the three of us in Giles' basement, the day you found out I, you know, could.' He nuzzled her ear.
'Mmmm.' Even as she covered his hands and moved them higher, Buffy thought of how comfortable it had been between the three of them, how she and Spike had teased Angel, how she and Angel had tickled Spike. Part of it had been the mask she was wearing until she could be alone, her emotions about the conversation she overheard suppressed until she could deal with them by herself, but the rest had been surprisingly nice, the three of them uncoupled and not in conflict.
'He's so ticklish,' Angel added, thinking that it would be all he dared, 'right here.' And he tickled her low on the tummy, by her hipbone, making her squirm.
She swatted his hands away. 'I don't even want to think about how you know that.'
'Sure you do,' he teased. 'You fantasize about it all the time.' He chuckled when she swatted him harder, but he didn't miss the way the tiny capillaries in her face heated with blood. Shut up, shut up, Angel warned himself, and found Buffy's mouth with his. Of the ways to keep quiet, this was the absolute best.
⸹
Spike let himself in to the apartment, figuring that he must be tired and less stealthy than usual. Both Mrs. Hanley and Mrs. Petrowksy had come to their doors to wish him a good night. The elderly, he had found, didn't sleep through the night as well as younger people did. As proof, he found one of his roommates asleep on the couch.
When Dawn first approached him about moving into Tribby's apartment, he had been resistant for about two minutes before he caved. The only condition was that the futon had to go. He and Dawn had picked out a completely impractical cream-colored leather couch that had, Dawn swore, tiny elves inside who moved the cushioning to just where it was needed. Spike eyed the sofa; it was incredibly comfortable, plush and wide and more restful than his own bed. Tribby was currently dozing on it, still in the black dress she had worn to Natalie's memorial service. Spike hung up his coat, slid out of his boots, and lay down on the couch, too, tucking himself behind the slayer. She snuggled against him, making him smile. Like him, she had shared a bed long enough to get into companionable sleep habits.
He let out the rest of his air, nuzzling his face into the warmth of the dark hair at Tribby's nape. He would miss her when she moved after the battles were over, not only because she made a good pillow. She hadn't forgotten the lesson Dawn imparted in Boulder about vampires needing physical comfort, and the couch, without fanfare, had become the spot for cuddling. Spike imagined that was why she had fallen asleep here, needing comfort herself after the service. As he had learned early on, she wouldn't ask.
The main reason he'd miss her, though, had to do with Dawn. Tribby didn't try to be a big sister or even go out of her way to fit the teenager into her life; Dawn would have spotted that kind of coddling at a thousand yards. But the slayer had helped Dawn choose classes for the spring semester, warning her away from certain professors and showing her how to fill required courses in the easiest possible way. He'd found them sparring once or twice when he came home. Tribby was even protective in her own way; Spike had noticed her casually turn off Nine Inch Nail's 'Closer' before the profanity began.
When he first moved in, he'd barely seen his new roommate. She was either in her studio or working at voter registration events, trying to get John Kerry into the White House. The night of the election, she went to bed before midnight, having stayed up four years earlier for a decision that never came. Spike had met her in the hall the next morning. He'd overheard her final telephone conversations, full of reports of people in Ohio illegally turned away from the polls and a bogus terrorist threat in one precinct so that votes could be tallied in secret. Rumpled and still half-asleep, she'd raised a questioning eyebrow. He'd told her to go back to bed for four more years.
He liked the apartment. Though the building was quieter than Rupert's house, because of whatever sound-dampening modifications had been done to the upper floor, music had come back into his life. Tribby had the expected punk classics on CD, but also a host of obscure artists and bootlegs downloaded from the Internet. He'd never got around to asking how someone who was born after the demise of the Sex Pistols had come to love punk rock so much. Dawn, of course, scoffed at them both, but she would dance around with them on more manic evenings and had even learned the words to a couple of Ramones songs. She was delighted with their new place. Between the stairs and Tribby's empty refrigerator, she'd lost four pounds.
For Spike, it didn't matter where they were living. The only reason he'd stayed at Watcher Central was because Dawn was there. While it was nice to be near Rupert, he'd rather thought he was done with basements. That was, in fact, the excuse he'd given Giles when explaining that he was moving out. He didn't mention anything about being less accessible to Buffy, and he honestly didn't know if the Watcher had suspected anything.
Dawn knew, of course, had figured it out soon after Tribby's tirade at the gym. She was so protective of him, even to the point of placing him with another surrogate sister to look out for him. Dawn was protective of Buffy, too, if it came to that. Keeping them apart was the best way to keep peace, at least until Buffy found her courage.
Spike had to believe she would; he clung to that hope as if it was a life preserver and he was lost at sea. The idea that she might just stay with Angel was too painful to contemplate. Instead, he nestled against slayer-shaped warmth and fell into an exhausted sleep.
⸹
Giles stood at the end of the hallway absently wiping his knuckles with a handkerchief, watching as Angel supported one of their four prisoners back to the cell. Spike, he saw, had been making a good show of playing a maniacal guard, if it was indeed a show. He had made a snatch through the bars at the freckled one's neck, only stopped by the narrowly placed bars and the width of his muscled arm. The prisoner had jerked away, red fingermarks standing out against his throat, Spike grinning at him with canines on prominent display.
Only one prisoner remained to be interrogated, and he nodded at Angel to bring that man forward. This one had a homemade dressing of gauze wrapped around his right hand, covering a burn. Giles had left him until last, wanting him to feel as vulnerable as possible. The big vampire grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him from the cell, almost dragging him down the corridor.
Their makeshift interrogation room was the seldom-used men's shower room. Angel pulled the man inside and slung him down on one of the low benches between neat rows of lockers. Giles looked him over dispassionately. A burly man in his thirties, he was hunched over, holding his injured hand protectively to his chest, the white bandage standing in stark relief against his dark skin. He stared wild-eyed up at the Watcher.
'Five, four, three, two,' Giles said, holding one hand near his face. On the last word, he dropped it to his side, and Angel felt the now-familiar pulse of power emanate from the sorcerer as he hypnotized the man. The Watcher had used his fist exactly once, on the first of the prisoners. Angel was impressed, though he'd never admit it, and wondered if Drusilla would have been able to mesmerize Giles if he hadn't already softened him up for her.
'Are you in pain?' From Giles' tone, he hoped the answer was 'yes.'
'My hand hurts.'
'You will feel no pain from your hand while we are talking. Nothing is more important than answering my questions. Do you understand?'
'Yes.' Blinking slowly, the man lowered his hand into his lap and regarded Giles with bovine trust.
'What is your name?'
'Alvin Epperson.'
'Alvin, how did you burn your hand?'
'I don't remember.'
Giles raised his hand a fraction. 'You will remember it when I ask you. How did you burn your hand?'
'Acid burn,' he said, his mouth working in a silent wince. 'I don't remember… Did a car battery explode?'
'Where did you get the acid burn, Alvin?' The Watcher's voice was like a shard of ice. 'Tell me.'
'Here. I spilled some acid on my hand.'
'What were you doing with the acid?'
'Putting it where she told us.'
'Where who told you?'
'The woman.'
'Where did you first see her?'
'At the site, four days ago.'
'The road construction site where you work?'
'Yes.'
'How did she approach you?'
'She didn't approach. She was just there. She told us we were going to help her, so we did.'
'What did you help her do?'
'Digging and stuff.' The man frowned, not wanting to remember. 'Things that weren't safe. People could get hurt.'
Indeed they could, Giles thought, wanting for a moment to burden Epperson with Natalie's death. 'Who was the woman that you helped?'
'I don't know her. She never said her name.'
'What did she look like?'
'White girl, pretty young thing. Brown hair, medium height.'
Giles sighed. The irony could kill a person; Epperson's description fit Natalie. 'Did she have an accent? Identifying marks? An unusual way of walking or dressing?'
'No. She was wearing jeans.' Epperson thought hard. 'She smiled a lot, like a nervous habit.'
The Watcher nodded. One of the other workers had noted that, too. 'Did she mention anyone by name?'
'No.'
'Did she know you by name?'
'No.'
'Where did you get the material you used in this building?'
'After she told us where to go, we found all the supplies in the back of Lavon's truck.'
'Did she touch you?'
'No.'
'Is there anything else you can tell me about this woman?'
'She said we wouldn't have to remember it.' There was a hint of whine in his voice.
Giles regarded him for a long time, then his eyes flickered to Angel. His next words were less harsh. 'Did you go to the hospital for your hand?'
'No.'
'Why?'
'I was ashamed.'
'Ashamed? Why?'
'Because I don't know how I burned it. The people at the hospital will think I been freebasing.'
The Watcher closed his eyes. 'When you come back to yourself, you will once again notice the pain in your hand. It will be as bad as it was when you first hurt it. Go to the hospital and tell them a car battery exploded while you were jump-starting it. You will also remember that I hit you, but you didn't know the answers to the questions I asked you, nor did you know why I was asking. Once you are returned to the work site, you will not remember being here at all. That's when you should go to the hospital. You will awaken when I say the word five.' He looked at Angel and shook his head wearily, watching as the dark-haired man grabbed their prisoner by the collar. 'Two, three, four, five,' he murmured, lifting his hand. Then, in a considerably louder voice, 'Have you nothing else to say?'
'No! I don't know anything. Please don't hurt me!' Epperson hugged his injured hand to his torso.
'Get him out of here,' Giles said, real disgust in his voice. It wasn't aimed at the prisoner, but he wouldn't know that. He glanced at his watch. Xander should be here shortly, if he wasn't already, on the off chance that he might be able to identify one or more of the men from his construction days in Sunnydale. If that possibility didn't pan out, Willow would return them to their job site. She had already planted an alarm spell on them. If anything magical approached the men again, the Council would know.
Sighing, Giles sat down on the opposite bench and put his head in his hands. He was tired, and it wasn't even noon. His own suspicion about who was behind the attack hadn't panned out. If only he could tell Natalie's parents who had killed their daughter. All he had was a nebulous entity who compelled innocents to do its dirty work.
⸹
'First Evil.' Xander stated this flatly, then looked around at the people gathered in Spike's office at the gym. The blond vampire had given up the place of honor behind the desk to Giles and was sitting in a lounge chair, Dawn perched on its arm. Angel and Buffy sat directly opposite in a similar arrangement on the matching chair. Willow was squished between Xander and Oz on the couch, with Aubrey taking up all the remaining space. There was no seat for Angus McGann, but he was far too involved in pacing to notice.
Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. 'And your reasons for thinking this?'
'Targeting slayers,' Xander said, ticking off his points on his fingers, 'manipulating other people to do the actual work, thinking on a large scale.'
Aubrey harrumphed, then sighed. 'It does fit, Rupert.'
'Other thoughts?' Giles looked around.
'Not that I have any better ideas,' Spike said, grimacing, 'but I don't think it's the First Evil. All of Harris' points are valid, but this whole… Keystone Kops, Rube Goldberg way of doing in slayers….'
'The First Evil was efficient.' Buffy said this quietly, and Spike sent her a grateful look for putting his thoughts into neatly packaged words. She gave him a fleeting smile, then looked away.
'We've ruled out Initiative involvement,' Oz said, 'so if it isn't the First Evil, who is it?'
His question was met with silence. Giles looked around at the people in the room, for his money the brightest minds on the Council. His eyes lingered longest on McGann. 'I certainly won't rule out the First Evil, who nearly did in the Council and has in the very recent past targeted the line of Slayers. However, I suggest we keep an open mind. We've set alarm spells on the listening devices found in our subsequent search of the training center and my house, as well as on the four men who were compelled to set the traps. Can anyone think of additional steps?'
No one spoke up, but Xander leaned toward Spike and asked him a question directly. 'Would you use those same humans twice?'
Angel answered the question. 'You'd send minions, kill them when they returned, and make new ones.'
'So, why leave these guys alive?'
'Because whoever is behind this expects to have some use for them in the future,' McGann said, his expression fierce. 'Get the American lad, Andrew, to set up video surveillance, too.'
'Excellent suggestion, Angus,' Aubrey said. He heaved himself up from the couch with a groan of protest. 'Here, give me a ride back to Rupert's, and we'll see what we can come up with in the way of spy gadgets.' The old man sent Giles a meaningful look, which the Head of the Council took to mean that he'd get the grief-stricken Watcher to take some rest.
When only the core group of Sunnydale veterans remained, Giles folded his arms atop Spike's desk. Any pretense at coolness vanished, and Ripper was very much in evidence behind the tired features. 'Our number one priority is to find who is behind this. No one gets to boast about killing a slayer.'
Buffy looked at Spike, who sucked in his cheeks and raised his eyebrows, but thankfully kept his peace. 'Higher priority than the energy source?'
'I doubt there will be much overlap between work on the two missions,' Giles said, 'but yes. Buffy, you and your fellow slayers are our most precious resource. The battles haven't been unduly dangerous. But the person or persons behind the gunfire attack and the sabotage at the gym have used the battles, once to find you en masse, once to keep you busy. I can't help but believe our nemesis is also charting the energy and laying plans around those times.'
'Has there been any progress on predicting the next one?' Willow asked.
'No.' Giles sighed and removed his glasses for a good polish. 'Frankly, with Clem turning up like clockwork well before each battle, we've simply used our resources elsewhere.'
'There's only one Clem,' the redhead mused, 'and we've got him. I wonder if it's possible to track other efforts to predict the battles?'
Rupert sat up slightly. 'Brilliant. Would you…?'
'I'd be happy to.'
He gave her a smile. 'Well, unless anyone can think of something else, I suggest you all go get some rest. That's certainly my plan for the next few hours.'
Dawn spoke up. 'Just one quick thing: Sasha, our masseuse, resigned. She doesn't want to work at the gym anymore.'
Giles nodded grimly. He met Dawn's eyes. 'Hire someone new?'
Dawn shook her head. 'No. Not just yet, anyway.' He looked so tired, old even, that she moved across to him and gave him a hug. Feeling almost embarrassed by her desire to shelter and protect Giles, of all people, she quickly turned away. 'Ready?' she asked her sister.
Buffy nodded with no enthusiasm. 'Ready.' She leaned over and gave Angel a quick smooch before standing up. 'I'll be home in a little while.'
'She should be awake by now,' Dawn said. Buffy had volunteered to talk to Kayla about Slayer dreams.
'Slayer?' Spike looked up, his expression guarded. 'Thanks. For Kayla's sake, I mean.'
'No prob.' Forcing a smile, she fixed her gaze on her sister. 'Lead on, McGruff.' From behind Spike's desk, Giles winced.
'Lay on, McDuff,' Spike provided in a soothing voice once both Summers were out of the room.
'Thank you, William.'
⸹
'Kayla?' Buffy called softly, knocking on the door. 'It's Buffy. May I come in?'
'Sure.'
The Slayer hesitantly entered the room. Kayla sounded defeated, and she didn't look much better. She rolled onto her side from where she'd been prone on her bed to peer at Buffy with eyes red and swollen from tears.
'Thanks.' Buffy sat carefully on the edge of the bed, smoothing her skirt. 'Not feeling so great, huh?'
'Not great, no.'
Still awkward, Buffy sighed, wishing she knew Kayla better. After all, she was probably Dawn's closest human friend. 'I guess you know why I'm here.'
'Same as Mr. Giles. You're going to try to make me feel better.'
'No.' Buffy studied her knees. 'I'm not.'
This got Kayla's attention, and she sat up further. 'You're not?'
'No. I'm here to tell you that the dreams come, whether you want them or not, and they're not…' The Slayer trailed off. They were a burden, but Kayla knew that well enough. 'The Slayer dreams are like hurricane warnings – a-at least that's how I think of them. Knowing that the storm is coming doesn't let you move it, or make it go away, but it does give you a chance to get prepared, to weather it better.'
The younger woman looked furious. 'So why bother? If Natalie had to die, why put me – or anyone – through this? What good are the dreams?'
'I'm not saying that they're useless.' Buffy shook her head. 'When I first had the dreams, they weren't clear. The older I get, the more… lucid they are, or maybe I'm just better at understanding them. But sometimes I have them,' she thought of her shared dream with Faith, 'and I don't understand what they mean for a long time.' She made herself turn to the confused young woman, made herself take Kayla's hands. Touching other people, people she didn't know well, was still difficult.
'The most important thing is that you share your dream, and you did just that. When your Watcher didn't take you seriously, you went to Natalie. Both of you assumed the danger would be during the battle – why wouldn't you? You did everything right. It isn't your fault your Watcher let you down, and it isn't your fault Natalie died.'
'It feels like it is.' Kayla sounded miserable, and Buffy squeezed her hands.
'It isn't.' Oh, she so did not want to go here. 'One time I didn't tell Giles or anyone about dreams I was having. Not just one dream, but a whole series of them, always about the same thing.' Buffy dropped her eyes. 'About someone dying. A-and I couldn't handle the thought that he would die, so I didn't….'
'Was it Spike?'
Buffy's eyes slowly lifted until she was looking into Kayla's brown ones. She wondered how much of her life was legend for the other slayers. 'Yes. If I had told him, or if I had told Giles, maybe something would have been different. I don't think so, you know, looking back, I don't see how else it could have been. But,' she shrugged and a small smile touched her lips, 'when Spike came back, he told me that he would have wanted to know, so he could say his goodbyes, at least.
'The important thing is, let other people know. The more information we have, the more input into decisions, the better. Plus, it takes it off your shoulders. That kind of knowledge is a lot to bear alone.'
'I'm scared to go to sleep.'
The Slayer smiled a little at this admission. 'I know the feeling. Don't fear the dreams, though – you definitely need sleep. I've gone without having a dream for over a year before.'
'So, they aren't common?'
'No.' Buffy shook her head, then impulsively brushed Kayla's brown hair from her face.
'Who's going to be my Watcher now that Caro is gone?'
'I don't know.'
'Can I come to you if I have another dream?'
'Of course you can.' Buffy stood up, needing to get away from the growing feeling of intimacy. 'O-or go to Giles, since you live here.'
Kayla put a hand out and touched her wrist. 'Buffy? It wasn't me. In Spike's room, I mean. Since I live here and everything, I just wanted to make sure you knew it wasn't me.'
The Slayer stared down at her for a moment, the expression on her face difficult to read. Then she forced a smile. 'I know.'
⸹
'Hey,' Oz said, sitting up and blinking.
'Hey.' Willow looked at him from the doorway of his bedroom. 'I didn't want to wake you.'
'No. Wake me.' He ran his hand through his hair. 'Headed back to Oxford?'
'I've got a stop to make,' she told him, smiling, 'then back to my paper on the limits of superstring theory.'
'Shame the math doesn't work. It explained a lot.' He folded the pillow and put it behind his back. 'So, still thinking of switching to philosophy?'
'It's the only way I can think of to combine all my interests.'
'You're something, you know that?' He gave her one of his patented Oz smiles, and Willow felt tears in the corners of her eyes.
'Aww. You're something, too,' she told him softly. Blowing him a kiss, she closed the bedroom door.
Willow sighed and stood up a bit straighter. Spike? You awake? She only had to wait a moment for his reply.
Yeah. Nice to hear from you, Red.
She felt a smidge of guilt. I've been pretty busy. Do you mind if I pop by?
'Course not. Aim for the kitchen.
Willow teleported between the two apartments in less than a second. She expected Spike to be in the kitchen, and it took her a moment of looking around to find his blond head looking at her over the edge of the cream-colored sofa in the living room. He touched a finger to his lips and jerked his head toward the hallway before going over the back of the couch in a slinky fashion that reminded her of the cat she and Tara had once adopted. As she followed him, Willow glanced at the couch. Both Dawn and Tribby were asleep on it, and she was impressed all over again by his stealth.
Spike gallantly bowed her into his bedroom, undermining the courtesy with a wicked smile. He settled on the bed and patted the spot next to him. To what do I owe the pleasure?
Taking just a moment to look at him, in his usual black t-shirt and jeans, his feet bare, she decided he looked good, healthy. She was glad to see it. Willow sat down next to him and took his hands.
Do I have to have a reason? I just missed you.
Sorry, love. Hate that I made you feel… uncomfortable.
You've already apologized. So, how's the apartment?
Good. I miss Rupes, but it's more fun living with my Bit and a slayer than living with my Bit and a bunch of Watchers.
Not the right Slayer.
He shrugged. Yeah, well.
How are you doing with, you know, Natalie?
Furious. Sad. And, since you know my deepest-darkest anyway, a little relieved it wasn't someone else.
Willow got brief images of Rona and Vi. I know. It seems like death should bring out the best in us, not the petty feelings.
Brings out the most honest, I reckon, cutting so close to the bone as it does.
So, you really don't think it's the First Evil?
It isn't.
She raised an eyebrow. Pretty darn sure.
Hate to own up to it, but I got to know the git pretty well, even mad as a March hare an' all. This doesn't feel like the First Evil.
I haven't found anyone who's trying to track the energy. Willow sighed. Maybe they've got their own version of Clem and don't need to, either.
It was a good idea, though. He shifted a little, holding his arms out further to make her more comfortable. So, how're things with Dog-boy? Spike watched as the slow, helpless smile spread across her face, feeling happy just to see her happy.
Good. Real good. She looked down. I spend more nights here than I do in my apart– flat.
Glad for you, love.
Spike? What was going on the night you… we….
He got a quick succession of images of his own intense face and the rapid shuffle of Willow's emotions from and about that night. Oh, pet, 'm so sorry. There was a lot going on. He took a breath, made himself stop, and simply opened his own memories: the hierarchies among vampires, being recorporealized and almost immediately defeating Angel and sparing his life, the night the Scoobies left Los Angeles and Angel got drunk, bits of what he remembered from the nightmarish time in Boulder, his demon's inability to ignore Angel's trespass on what was his, and the inspiration that struck in the final moments that allowed the big vampire to live.
Willow pulled away, her face pale. 'I-I didn't know.'
'Why would you, love?' He sounded tired. 'Rupes was the only one who had a clue.'
She slid tentatively back into his mind, still thinking of his effortless seduction. Would it have helped?
No. Spike gave her a wan smile. Not that it wouldn't have been really nice. Would have made it special for you, love. 'Not fair to you, though.' His voice was deeper than usual.
'No.' You know, you don't have to carry all this by yourself.
Their eyes had been locked the whole time, but something in Spike's gaze became more intent. He let go of one hand and stroked Willow's cheek with his thumb. Love, I am a monster. What I was carrying around was the idea of murder. I know that – part of me knows that it's murder, anyway. The demon… He wanted what was his, and he had the right. You're a brick, Red, and you've forgiven me so many wrongs, but I can't share that part of me. Don't want you to think of me as a monster.
She covered his hand with hers, squeezing his fingers with her other. You'll never again be a monster to me, Spike. There was sympathy and not a little wisdom in her next words. But I understand that it wasn't a human you needed to confide in. Willow didn't have to say Angel's name.
Spike shrugged. Dunno why our unlives have to be so entwined. We're opposites in a lot of ways – in every way. Sometimes I feel like we're two leaves caught in the same current, being carried along, unwitting, swirling, tossed adrift on a river of blood – Oh, bloody hell.
[Shut up, poet.]
Ignore me. Yeah, I've got used to havin' the ponce around. Family, right? I miss him.
Well, I'm no Angel substitute, either, but you can still talk to me. Things you can't tell Dawn, maybe. You're not the only one who's murdered. Her hands flexed convulsively with the admission.
You're no murderer, love. Never think it. 'S'why I didn't want to burden you. Don't want to scare Dawn, either, but not a lot gets past my Nibblet.
Willow could almost taste his pride through their link. She smiled at him. I mean it.
Thanks, Red. 'Thank you, Miss Willow.'
'It's the contrast,' she said, letting go of his hands.
'What contrast?'
'You.' She gestured at him. 'All scary punk on the outside, all squishy goodness on the inside. Kinda irresistible.'
'Squishy?' He wasn't pleased.
Willow leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss, much like the one she'd given him once in his apartment in Los Angeles. 'Completely squishy, but I won't tell.' She stood up. 'I'm going to pop back and get a few hours of sleep, then I've got to work on a paper. I'll try to check in with you in the next few days, okay?'
He smiled up at her. 'We're good, then?'
'Of course.' And she was gone.
⸹
When he asked her what she would like to do over the weekend, and Lina said 'tennis,' Xander had more than a little trepidation. Buffy had invited them over for pizza and videos on Friday, so it was only fair that Lina got to pick something she wanted to do, too. She had played for her Catholic high school and was pretty good, but it turned out that driving stakes into the tough chest cavities of vampires was good training for the proper grip on a racket.
'That was fun,' he admitted as they walked from the court to his car. She had beaten him, but he'd managed to pull off quite a few volleys.
'You're a natural,' Lina said admiringly. 'And that backhand… wow.'
'Well, I'm just an athletic kind of guy,' Xander said, going for casual even as he felt a warm glow from the compliment.
Lina got a funny look on her face, and she surprised him by pulling him into a quick, hard hug. 'You're the right kind of guy,' she said fiercely.
'And you're exactly the right kind of girl,' he said, hugging her back, glad that even though it was sunny, the November weather was too cool for him to be gross and sweaty.
'Xander…' Lina bit her lip. 'Never mind.'
'No,' he said, 'go ahead. Tell me.' She didn't say anything, just looked down, so he stopped walking and put his hand on her arm. 'Hey.'
'Do you ever,' she paused for a second to take a breath, then looked up at him with wide brown eyes, 'do you ever think you'll leave the Council?'
Xander considered her for a few seconds. 'This is because of Natalie, isn't it?'
'Yes,' she said, a little defiance in her tone, 'and because of what you told me about your eye.'
She had cried when he told her that story, which touched him so much. 'Natalie was–' he began, but she cut him off.
'No, don't. This isn't the time or the place. Xander,' she grimaced a little, 'I wonder if you'd come back to Toledo with me for Thanksgiving?'
He quirked a brow at the abrupt change in topic and gave her a half-smile. 'Meet the family?'
'Yes.' It was her turn to smile faintly. 'I've never brought a boy home before. I didn't even let my prom date meet me at my house.'
'But you have a nice family,' he protested, then backpedaled. 'Well, they sound nice from the way you describe them.'
'They are nice, but they would have me married off with six children to anyone I brought home.'
He moved a step closer. 'So, this would be a serious thing, inviting me for Thanksgiving?'
'Very serious.' They looked at each other steadily for a few seconds.
'Lina, I can work almost anywhere in the world with the Council. It doesn't have to be on a Hellmouth. The demons in Africa were a lot less scary to me than the thought of Ebola, so it doesn't have to be Africa, either.' Xander looked down and took her racket to tuck under his arm, then held her hands between his. 'Being a Watcher isn't just a job for me,' he smiled at her again, 'but it isn't one I have to do on an epicenter of evil, either.'
'I've always wanted to go to London,' she said thoughtfully.
'And it turns out I've always wanted to go to Toledo.'
⸹
'Keep the couch warm,' Spike instructed Dawn as he and Tribby left for patrol on Saturday. It was only five, but already getting dark, time to be out on the streets.
Dawn looked up from where she had books and papers spread around her, Tribby's laptop on her knees. 'Like I've got anything better to do.' She pointed her chin at the slayer. 'Harder.' What does that mean?'
Confused for a moment, Tribby finally remembered the t-shirt she was wearing. Without missing a beat, she said, 'Work harder, try harder. Kind of like the Nike ad campaign, 'Just do it.'
'Mm-hmm,' Dawn said skeptically. 'Three of out three of us shouldn't wear that shirt.'
Spike gave her a pained smile and shut the door. He'd come back from Watcher Central one afternoon to find Dawn and Tribby at the kitchen table, working their way through a box of Oreo cookies and a gallon of milk, The Donna's 'I Don't Care' repeating on a loop as the song blasted from the living room speakers. Mitch had come back from a weekend at home with the news that he had reunited with a high school girlfriend, and apparently Tribby had received a call from Gunn a few days earlier that he was seeing someone else, too. While the slayer didn't seem to be overly affected, Dawn had been in a funk ever since. He was more than ready for her to be her cheerful self again.
'She'll get over it,' Tribby said, sending him a sidelong glance as they passed Mrs. Hanley's door.
'Soon, I hope,' he muttered darkly. 'Still say she shoulda let me truss up the wanker and leave him for a gang of Hellions. They're partial to humans.' There was an evil gleam in his eye. 'Course, the parts don't quite fit together just right.'
The slayer flashed him an amused look, but didn't say anything. They had walked a few blocks when she took a deep breath of the cool air and lifted her face. 'I love this time of the day, late twilight, the 'time of the long vision.' I swear you can see individual leaves on trees a mile away.'
'Yeah,' Spike agreed, disinterested, 'good light.'
'No, it's because there's just enough light that both types of photoreceptors in your eyes, the rods and the cones, are active, not just one or the other.' She started to go on, made a mouth. 'Sorry. There's that pesky med student again.'
As Tribby lapsed into her habitual quiet, Spike found himself examining her. She probably wouldn't have mentioned that Charlie had broken things off, if not for Dawn's romantic tragedy. She didn't put demands on anyone, not even for attention. Tara had been like that, but it had grown out of being told she didn't deserve the same notice because she was a demon. Tribby honestly didn't seem to need anyone else, and it puzzled him. He'd always needed people, now more than during his socially awkward living years. Even Buffy, one of the most self-reliant people he'd ever met, needed her sister and her Scoobies, admittedly in an intermittent fashion.
Meeting Tribby's parents at her capstone exhibit had provided some clues to why she chose to depend only on herself. Her father, a physics professor, had the air of a man living with regrets, and Spike wondered what it must be like when your child has grown up to be both a medical student and a world-class athlete, yet you can take almost no credit for it. He had been desperately helpful when he was down for Tribby's exhibit, but the slayer kept him at a polite distance. At least he was trying; at this point, the William part of Spike could only hope that he never got within punching distance of Hank Summers. There wouldn't be anything left of the git.
Tribby's mother was another story entirely, and Spike could scarcely believe she was Lana's daughter. In her late forties, Anita was one of the most beautiful women he had seen in his long existence, and also one of the coldest. Having made a career of marrying up, she certainly didn't want to acknowledge having a daughter in her mid-twenties, no matter how bright or talented. Although he'd met Xander's doormat of a mother and had heard stories about Sheila Rosenberg, his definition of 'mother' began with his own and ended with Joyce Summers, so it had been a shock to him when Tribby's purposely made cutting remarks to her daughter.
As people were filing into the exhibit, Anita had complimented Tribby's dress, only to add that it was a shame she was too muscular for it to drape well on her. A few moments later, she had murmured that Tribby was looming over her. Spike raised his eyebrows at this; the dark-haired slayer was shorter than Buffy. Tired of the demeaning comments designed to make one of his own feel ugly and awkward, he'd ramped up the come-hither that came naturally to his kind, made sure he had her attention, then jerked a thumb toward her and asked Rupert, 'Who's the old cow?' When he'd tried to talk to Tribby about it later, she just shook her head and told him that as long as her thighs were bigger than her mother's, it didn't really matter.
What really mattered to her came out in her art. Dawn had said that Tribby's exhibit was the most anticipated of the semester, but Spike was still surprised by the quality of her work and the number of people who crammed the small gallery. Some of the pieces were made to fulfill requirements and show mastery of different styles of mosaics, and others were obviously designed to be commercial. There were two pieces, though, that weren't for sale.
One had been a cool composition in shades of blue and brown, done in a photorealistic style reminiscent of a Swedish artist he'd known in the first decade of the twentieth century, Carl Larsson (Spike had been hard-pressed to talk Dru out of eating Karin, Larsson's wife and frequent model). This mosaic was almost kinetic, showing a young man leaping off a dock into a lake, the play of light on wooden boards so realistic that Spike fancied they would feel warm from the sun. There was so much exuberance in the jumper's form, you could almost hear the 'yahoo!' as he bunched his muscles for the jump. Slim, straight, and with longish dark hair, Spike had known it was a portrait of her late husband before he ever saw the title, 'Lost to Summer.'
The other one, the largest piece by far, might not appeal to people unaffiliated with the Council of Watchers, despite being something of a map of Cleveland. With much more of a stained glass feel to it, the mosaic showed the Jake, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the Museum, the Science Center, the Botanical Gardens and several other landmarks. Near each, there was a small female figure, always with a dark, tiny sliver protruding from their hands. In several places, the clever use of speckled rock showed vampires in the act of becoming dust. The bottom of the rectangular mosaic was dark, suggesting the Hellmouth to the initiated.
He'd started to grin as he looked at it, finding Rona's braids on one little figure, identifying Kayla by the tilt of her head on another. Vi was depicted to the left, the shade of red of the stone a perfect match for her hair. Spike had been so focused on finding the slayer near each bright landmark that he hadn't noticed the two enormous, dark figures on either edge, standing like columns or flanking angels, until Dawn pointed them out. They stood framing the mosaic, each with an arm extended toward the other, and Spike had taken a few steps back to see better.
One was him, obvious from the length of dark coat and white hair and sapphire-dark eye showing above his shoulder. The feminine figure on the right was Buffy, also in black, standing a little higher atop the Cleveland Clinic so that their arms were level. With only suggestive shapes and colors, Tribby had evoked Buffy down to gold- and brown-flecked green stone of her visible eye. Between their reaching fingers was the brightness of a rising sun. Despite the fact that they were meant to be seen as the city's guardians, they were focused on each other.
When he finally tore his real gaze away from the depiction of his proud, unyielding Slayer, he found other familiar shapes. Rupert and Dawn were at a table near the approximate location of the university, the Watcher poring over a book, Dawn looking into the distance, in an attitude of listening for something. Willow and Xander were together beneath the Clinic, Ute's tall, slender shape prowled to the southwest, Vashti patrolled near her home in Kamms Corners with a thin band of wire suggesting her ever-present MP3 player, and Angel's broad, dark shape was closest to the Hellmouth. None of the slayers who had arrived in August were in the mosaic, giving him a sense of how long it had taken Tribby to plan and execute 'There Will Always Be a Cleveland.' Spike felt a chill at the promise inherent in the title. He had destroyed another town built above a Hellmouth.
As roommates, he and Dawn had been obligated to attend the round of parties after the opening, a stilted affair with Tribby's parents in a private room of a restaurant, another at a palatial home in the Edgewater section of the city, which he later learned belonged to Ty's grandmother, and the final and best in his old basement at Watcher Central. Spike had gotten Aubrey tipsy on cheap wine, and the two of them had sung rude songs for an hour.
Smiling a little at the memory of the old man, unfortunately a West Ham fan, bellowing 'Knees Up Mother Brown,' Spike missed the first rush of attackers entirely. It was Tribby who met the vampires, and it was like a wave hitting a cliff, dust spraying from everywhere her double-ended stakes happened to hit. She had taken out four before Spike could get to her, but there were plenty left. Tribby spun, putting her back to his, and the vampires waited until they had made a ring around the two warriors before they attacked.
Not that this did them any good. Spike yanked a lanky blond vampire in close, using him as a shield and a distraction for the first six kills before dusting him, going through the disintegrating matter to stake the hapless vampire on the other side. Needing another stake, Spike took two from his pocket and used one in each hand, not necessarily going for the chest with every blow. He felt a knife rake across his ribs and, with a snarl, stepped clear of Tribby so that he could deliver a flying kick that put four vampires on the ground and another three off balance. Spike finished those off within seconds.
Whirling, he saw Tribby duck between two onrushing fledges who looked lame even in demon face, palm-striking one in the nose with her right hand and staking the other with an awkward wrist movement. While the hapless vampire held both hands over its broken nose, he dusted it. Spike looked around, reaching out with all his senses, but there were no more.
'Twelve,' he said, dumbfounded. He raised his eyebrows. 'You?'
'Nine,' Tribby said, 'I think.'
'It isn't even seven o'clock,' Spike protested. Twenty-one vampires gathered this early in the night? 'They were looking for us, pet.' She nodded, already pulling out her cell phone to call Watcher Central so that other patrol teams could be alerted.
He probed their surroundings again with ears, nose, and other senses, hoping that one of the young vampires had fled, but there was no one to pursue. None of their attackers seemed to value self-preservation. Tribby folded her phone, and he said, 'Shame. We got them all.'
'No one left to question.' She leaned her shoulder against a lamppost and, with a muffled crack, forced her dislocated left shoulder back into place. After a moment, she resettled her jacket on her shoulders. She nodded at the now-healed pale flesh beneath his sliced t-shirt. 'Do you want to change or go on to the park?'
Spike stared at her a moment, gauging whether the coolness was feigned. No, she genuinely wondered if he was ready to resume the usual patrol pattern. 'Sure, pet. We'll go on.' He remembered his duty. 'Good job, by the way.'
Tribby laughed. 'Like you were watching. I'm just ticked that I didn't get to see you fight, sir.'
He grinned. 'We're still here, yeah? Means we can brag that it was an epic battle. They were all fledges, but no one has to know that.'
⸹
'Yes?' Giles opened his office door and poked his head out, answering a knock. 'Oh. Hullo, Mrs. Mehta.' Vashti's mother was standing there, giving him a polite but determined smile.
'Hello, Mr. Giles. Do you have a few minutes for me?'
'Of course.' He stood away from the door, waving her inside. He had hoped to get some paperwork done on this rainy Sunday afternoon. Instead of going back behind the desk, he sat on the couch across from her. 'May I offer you tea? Something else?'
'No, thank you.' She settled herself more comfortably in the chair, draping her sari gracefully over her ankles. 'I wanted to talk to you about Vashti. Do you remember that she will be gone during the month of December?'
Rupert smiled. 'Yes. I believe you're going to India to visit relatives?'
'Yes.' Her answering smile faded. 'There's no tactful way to say this. Her father and I are not going to allow her to return to Cleveland.'
'Vashti doesn't want to come back?' He was surprised.
'We haven't told her yet, but you must realize that it isn't an option.'
Giles nodded slowly. 'Yes, I understand why you have concerns. After what happened with Natalie–'
'Vashti is our only daughter, our baby,' Mrs. Mehta broke in. 'We can't risk her like that.'
'I do understand your feelings,' Giles said, going for a gentle tone. 'However, I believe Vashti is eighteen, nineteen soon. Neither your daughter nor her Watcher has mentioned leaving to me. She might have her own thoughts about this.'
'She's a good daughter. She'll do as we say. Vashti won't be coming back to Cleveland.'
Rupert examined her determined face and decided there was no purpose in further conversation. 'Indeed. Well, Mrs. Mehta, I do appreciate you taking time to come by and tell me in person.'
She stood up. 'You're quite welcome.'
He stood up, too, and escorted her to the front door, his mind occupied by other things than the polite small talk they made about travel plans. Was this the first of a wave of desertions? Giles scolded himself for thinking in those terms. The slayers weren't conscripts, after all. They were free to leave; the best unforeseen consequence of activating the Potentials was that no one was wedded to duty the way Buffy had been.
Frowning, Giles closed his office door again, then leaned against the wood. Dawn had stacks of applications from across the globe, passing him a selected group yesterday from which to choose a replacement for Natalie. Slayers were more interested in serving on the Hellmouth now that there was a guarantee of action, it seemed. But the young women already in Cleveland had months of camaraderie and training. Replacing one was going to be difficult. He didn't want to look for additional substitutes, no matter what the reason.
⸹
Rona was waiting for Spike, sitting outside the gym underneath the eaves, staring thoughtfully at the newly filled-in hole where Natalie had died, a tree planted on the spot as a memorial. She raised a cheerful hand in greeting as he pulled up in his truck, though.
He dashed through the cold rain to join her, and gave her a hug that included a lift and spin, then put her back on the sidewalk. 'What's up, Ro? Why the mysterious assignation?'
'If you're asking me why I wanted to see you,' she grinned, sliding an arm around his waist as they walked companionably inside, 'I have a really good reason.'
'And the reason is…?' He slid his ID card through the new security lock, nostrils flaring as he processed recent scents once the door opened. They were all much more careful now.
'Take me to your office and give me a diet coke, and I'll tell you.'
'What makes you think I've beverages filled with vile chemicals in my fridge?'
'Hmm… because you're an evil vampire? No, wait: because you work with slayers?'
'Yeah, that'd be a better reason. Some of you lot would cleave off my leg if I got in the way of caffeine.' He unlocked his office door, listening to the sound of someone on a treadmill and the hiss of air through the ventilation system. While he got a drink for Rona, Spike grabbed a bag of expired Type O for himself and tossed it in the microwave, and they settled on the couch together, his right arm around her. 'So?'
'Rondell asked me to marry him.'
Spike's eyebrows went up. Of all that he might have expected, this wasn't on the list. 'Course he did,' he managed. 'Got eyes, doesn't he?' The microwave beeped, and he was grateful for the interruption to give himself time to recover from the surprise. 'How did you answer?'
'I said yes.' Rona couldn't keep a smile off her face. 'He's a couple years older than me, but I've known him all my life. Rondell's a good guy.' She gave him a soft look. 'You taught me how to appreciate one.'
'Ah, pet,' he said, sitting down next to her again, 'bright girl like you doesn't need any examples from me.'
'I did, though. The way you are with Dawn, the way you–' Rona stopped abruptly, then went on in a wry tone, as they knew each other well enough for honesty. 'You're devoted to Buffy. That's what love's supposed to look like, just on both sides. Now, me and Rondell? Not all that drama. But I can picture him with our kids. I don't want to wait.' Her voice was faraway for a moment, then she smoothed her braids back with her free hand. 'I imagine him leaving his socks all over the floor, and it doesn't make me mad.'
'Solid basis for marriage,' Spike agreed. Then, seriously, 'Does he make you happy, pet?'
'He does.'
'Then, all I have to say is congratulations.'
She accepted his hug, then pulled back. 'His brother already had a hall rented out for a New Year's party, so we're just going to make it a really memorable reception instead.'
'Let's see the stone.' He took her hand for a moment and examined the modest diamond solitaire. 'Very nice. Where'd he propose?'
'A fancy restaurant. Not original, but I do have one good story. When he asked, he held out the box, then dropped it in the candle holder in the middle of the table. Good thing it snuffed out the flame.'
'Got your gown picked out?'
'Yeah. Fortunately, I'm an easy size. It won't be an elaborate wedding, because we just don't have time to plan a big one.'
Spike thought of Xander and Anya. 'Not necessarily a bad thing.'
'No, since we're paying for it ourselves. We figure there're better things to spend our money on.' She smiled. 'Like a honeymoon. But it'll be a nice ceremony. My church in Philadelphia is beautiful.'
'I'll be there.'
'I want you to give me away, Spike. Would you?'
'What?' If he had been surprised by her announcement, this poleaxed him.
'At the wedding. It'll be after dark. I want you to give me away.' She shrugged. 'I never knew my father.'
'Ro…' Hesitating over the words, he put down his blood and took her face in his hands. 'I love you, pet, and I'm proud of you, but not in the way a father is.'
She gave him a light kiss on the lips, then pulled away, a smile on her face. 'Family, Spike.'
He caved. 'Course I will, love. Whatever you want of me.'
Rona squealed a little and flung her arms around him. 'Thank you, thank you! This will make it perfect.'
Making her happy put a smile on his face, and he hugged her back, breathing in her scent. 'Ah, Ro, you've turned into quite a woman. Rondell better 'preciate just how lucky he is.' By the time she let go, he had mastered the stupid grin that wanted to be his main expression. 'Where are you going to live?'
'Here during the week, then I'll go back to Philly on the weekends. Rondell has one more year before he finishes college.' Her face was serious. 'I'm not leaving until these battles are done.'
'And that's okay with him?'
She raised an eyebrow. 'It better be.' When he shook his head, amused, she relaxed against the couch. 'I heard your patrol had some excitement last night.'
'Yeah, couple dozen vamps gunning for us.'
'After you specifically, do you think?'
'Dunno. After anyone on the Council, would be my guess.' He grabbed up his blood from where he'd set it on the floor.
'This doesn't help. I mean, even if we find the energy source, it won't really be over until we find out who's behind these attacks.' She watched as he nodded his agreement, sucking the blood through the bag's built-in 'straw.' 'Juice boxes for vampires,' Rona said, amused.
'Not as good as fresh,' he leered at her.
'Aw, poor baby,' she said. Grabbing her purse and her half-finished can of diet cola, Rona stood up. 'Well, I'd better run.'
'What, I'm just another item on your to-do list?' Spike asked, only part of the petulance in his voice put on. He was feeling rather lonely and hoped to spend more time with her.
'Uh-huh,' Rona agreed. 'Now I have to go talk Vi into being my maid of honor before she up and becomes a matron of honor.'
'Is it that serious between her and the Good Lieutenant?' Hardly anyone used Joel Muse's name now.
'Pretty serious. He's old-fashioned, though. I bet he'll ask her over Christmas.'
'They grow up so fast,' Spike intoned, standing up to walk her out. Maybe he'd go see who was on the treadmill. If it wasn't Mrs. Mehta or a Watcher, perhaps they'd like to take Rona's place and keep him company.
⸹
'Let's go to the gym and do Tai Chi,' Buffy suggested.
Angel flinched, startled, upsetting the book he had open on his lap. He hadn't been reading it anymore, lost in thoughts of Connor. 'Wha–? Oh. Sure. Good idea.' He began to turn back pages until he found the last passage he remembered reading.
Buffy watched him, thinking of other times she'd come upon him reading, too many to be a distinct memory. He looked good that way, a big man doing something urbane. She had loved that about him when they first got to know each other, brains wedded to brawn, had even loved the books of philosophy he read because they made her feel sophisticated by association. In those days, he would put down the book when she arrived, because she was a visitor. Now that they lived together, the books were beginning to be an annoyance.
No, not an annoyance, she told herself firmly. They had an adult relationship; Angel read while she studied the next chapter for her American history class, balanced her checkbook, did her nails, put in a load of laundry, flipped through all the television channels with the sound muted, organized her underwear drawer, and talked on the phone to Willow. He read a lot.
To be fair, Buffy told herself, he hadn't actually been reading this time. 'So,' she asked, sitting down close to him on the couch, 'what were you brooding about?'
Having just marked the right page, Angel closed the book. He gave Buffy a fake smile. 'Nothing.' Standing up quickly, he stretched a little. 'I'll go get my shoes.'
She watched him go to the bedroom, a small furrow between her brows. That wasn't a question she asked often; when she had asked in the past, the answer had been that he was plagued by memories of Angelus' deeds. He would look sad and guilty when she asked. This time, Angel had looked furtive. Whatever he had been thinking of, he didn't want her to know.
⸹
'What in the name of all that's unholy are you doing?' Spike asked, his hands on his hips in disbelief.
'Nothing.' Tribby kept her rhythm, running on the treadmill while striking out with straight punches, a fifteen-pound barbell in either hand.
Spike snatched up a towel and walked over. 'Stop.' She minded him as always, taking their sensei-student relationship seriously. He waited until she popped the weights into the cupholders on the treadmill console, then tossed her the towel. 'You're as wet as the Thames, pet. How long have you been at it?'
'Um,' she checked the LCD readout, 'almost two hours.'
'Two hours.'
'It's too cold and rainy to run outside today.'
'Yeah, but why are you doing this?' He gestured at the weights.
'Type of interval training, sir.' At his raised eyebrow, she went on, wiping her face with the towel. 'An athlete maintains a base level of fitness, but just before a competition, she trains really hard.'
'And what are you training for?'
'Someone's targeting us, and they're going to pay for Natalie's death.'
Spike listened to her flat tone and looked her over. Her anger had been well-hidden until today. Tribby was wearing a shirt that advertised a motorcycle dealership in Myrtle Beach, with the charming legend 'Put Some Fun Between Your Legs.' Now that she had stopped, her muscles were trembling like a horse that had been ridden too hard. 'Can't make someone pay if you've dropped dead of exhaustion,' he pointed out.
'Dead doesn't stop you,' she pointed out.
He laughed. 'C'mon, pet. You want to train, I've got time.'
'It isn't Tuesday,' she said, protesting even as he heard her heart rate increase in anticipation.
Spike shrugged. He'd left his coat and boots to dry in his office, and he was ready to go. 'What, you can only fight me on days that begin with 't?' Before he'd finished saying the letter, she sprinted away across the row of treadmills toward a cache of stakes.
He had her on the ropes for more than five minutes until her slayer healing kicked in and she recovered from the brutal workout. After that, she was in top form, which by this point put her higher on Spike's slayer scale than Nikki. This took the level of danger from nil to slight. There were slayers in Cleveland that he wouldn't train with at all while they held a real wooden stake, not because they might get him on purpose, but because they might flail at him wildly out of the blue and make unlucky contact. Buffy, of course, would be safe, if they were still doing anything together. She always knew exactly where he was at, which for the time being was nowhere near her.
Bloody hell, he thought, chastising himself for letting his mind go to her again, a moth to a flame. At any rate, Tribby had begun blunting the stakes she used when they fought because they didn't have much margin for error. Instead of going to the open training area, they stayed in the smaller room with the treadmills and ellipticals, using the equipment as platforms or shields. They ranged the length of the room for almost five minutes without either of them finding an opening.
'This interval training stuff must be working,' he commented, then laughed because she was too out of breath to answer. Tribby glared and came at him just a little quicker. Spike dodged behind a treadmill, and she tried to get him around one of the supports. He was too cognizant of his surroundings for it to work, but he thought he might be able to turn it to his advantage. By chance, she switched directions just then and nearly got Spike as he lunged for her
Before he could do much more than leap back, there was a deep, guttural roar from behind them. Angel was suddenly there, lifting Tribby away from the other vampire, holding her in the air with one hand around her neck. Buffy was standing still in the doorway, watching. She knew exactly what was going on, and while she knew Spike wasn't in danger, she was too stunned to move.
Tribby, still in fight mode, grabbed onto Angel's arm with both hands and one leg. Bracing herself against his weight, she brought her other leg around and started to kick Angel in the temple.
'Aurelian! Drop my fledge!'
The big vampire obeyed the roared command immediately, shaking the dark-haired slayer off his arm and taking a step back. He stared at Spike with widened eyes.
Tribby landed badly, having to throw her body back to get to her feet instead of just flipping up from the spot where she fell. Now five feet away from her unexpected attacker, she started back toward him, fists clenched.
'At ease!' On Spike's order, she stopped and fell into a waiting stance, swaying a little.
Buffy's brow furrowed, staring at the suddenly motionless tableau, two warriors frozen at the command of a third. Who was he? Not her Spike, something of a joke because he tried too hard. Who was this person in complete control, whose orders others complied with instantly, this person who was so busy sparring with another woman that he didn't feel her approach?
Spike looked at Angel, who had seen someone attacking the Master and simply responded on instinct, then at Tribby, who was shaking again, this time with adrenaline. 'Tribs, hit the showers. That's enough for today.'
'Hai.' She gave him a small bow, then turned to Angel, grimacing. 'Sorry.'
'Me, too.' He watched her walk past him, then his gaze went back to Spike. 'Fledge?' he asked, his voice low.
Spike firmed his mouth. He hadn't thought about the semantics or how his slayers might fit into vampire hierarchy; the term had been the one that came to mind. 'Just a word,' he said, dismissing it with a wave.
'That's a difficult relationship,' Angel warned.
'When did you ever bring along a fledge?'
'You, boy,' Angel said roughly. Their eyes met for a long moment.
Spike looked away, then bent to pick up the blunted stake Tribby had dropped. 'Yeah, well, definitely don't have that kind of relationship with them.' He inclined his head, bidding the other man goodbye with a short, 'Peaches.' Spike's attention was focused on the door, his awareness buffeted by his Slayer's anger and veiled hurt.
Buffy had cut her eyes away from the two vampires only long enough to acknowledge Tribby's greeting as the other woman passed. She didn't trust herself to say anything; no one else had the right to spar with Spike like that. Words said or unsaid, actions or inactions – none of these mattered next to the truth: he was her vampire. Her eyes were on him as he approached.
Spike knew she was upset, and it took all his self-control not to march up to Buffy and take her in his arms. 'Slayer.'
Her eyes grew enormous as it occurred to her that after they had a good workout, either with each other or against whatever demons they could drum up in Sunnydale, it was invariably followed by long hours alone in his crypt. She did a half-step to the side, blocking the door, her mind flashing back to what was printed on Tribby's shirt.
Giving her a curious look, Spike raised his eyebrows and waited. When Buffy didn't move or say anything, he brushed past her with a muttered, 'Be in my office if you think of anything you want to tell me, pet.'
She sagged in relief, putting a hand out to brace herself against the door. In his office, not in the shower with that bitch. Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, unable to feel remorse for her uncharitable thoughts, only for her own weakness.
'He's too involved with them,' Angel fretted, coming to stand next to her.
'Yes,' she agreed quietly. Buffy lifted her head and brushed a stray tendril of hair back. She made her shoulders lift in a casual shrug. 'Nothing we can do about it.'
⸹
After her shower, Tribby checked the training area for Spike, seeing only Buffy and Angel doing Tai Chi. She watched the two of them move in tandem for a few moments, admiring their grace, then went to the sensei's office.
'Hey,' she said, knocking. When he beckoned her in, she plopped onto the couch. 'Was it just me, or was that weird?'
'Majorly weird,' he said, smiling a little at the echo of Dawn in the phrase.
'Good. Not just me, then.' When he didn't say anything, just closed a program on his desktop, she ventured, 'So, any particular reason Angel nearly strangled me?'
Spike shrugged. 'He saw me being 'attacked,' and stepped in.'
'Because you so need saving.'
He ignored the sardonic tone. 'Instinct, something like it, anyway, the way a wolfpack will pile in if the alpha wolf is attacked.'
Tribby's eyes narrowed. 'They might not for a junior member of the pack. I think it's more like a parent-child thing.'
'Then you're wrong. Doesn't your Watcher teach–' He cut the sentence short; Tribby and Kayla were still Watcher-less. 'A vampire doesn't give a damn about their get; they can always make more. Pull of the blood goes the other way, though. You'll fight at your sire's side because that is a strong tie, instinctive behavior. Saw Angelus send a newly-made vamp out to deliver a message in sunlight, just to make a statement.'
'So, any vampire that you make is blindly loyal to you out of instinct?'
'Yeah, manner of speaking. Odd, that, since we were human once. Humans don't have such obvious driving instincts.' He touched his chest. 'My great-grandsire, for example. Hated the bitch, but when she was hurt, nothing could stand between me getting to Darla's side to protect her.'
'But you're younger than Angel. Why did he come to your 'rescue?'
'I'm the head of our line, and that's powerful. 'S'one of the reasons I always stayed away from the former Master, avoided his summons – didn't want to be one of his adoring crowd.'
'How did you get to be the head of your line?' She was frowning, trying to understand vampire social structure.
Spike sighed, cursing the Council inwardly for their lackadaisical teaching. Whatever happened to know thy enemy? 'Me an' Angel had a fight to the death – well, the brink of death, and he submitted to me, so I'm the Master of the Order of Aurelians. Yay, me,' he finished glumly.
'This is since the soul, I take it?'
'Uh-huh.'
'So,' she said slowly, giving him a measuring look, 'you could, for instance, just order Angel to leave?'
'I could, yeah.'
Tribby did one of those feminine things that paradoxically made him feel uncomfortable but stayed with him ever after, a warm spot in his heart. She stared at him a long time, as if she could see around his corners, and finally said, 'You're a good person.'
Spike gave her a wary look. 'You're off your nut, but,' he turned away so she wouldn't see him smile, 'thanks.' He'd always thought so; nice to have some recognition.
'You're welcome, sir. Look, I can't make it until supper. I'm starved.'
'Wonder why?'
Tribby ignored the interruption. 'Come get some Thai with me, late lunch or something. I'll buy.' She stood up, ready to go.
He seriously considered it, just to get out of the gym and away from the aura of the two people he missed most. 'Better not. Kayla and Vashti are coming at sunset for patrol.'
'No big. Thanks for the workout.'
'Tribby? Who said 'know thy enemy?'
'If you know thy enemy and know thyself, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles,' she quoted automatically, turning back toward him. 'If you know thyself but not thy enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither thyself nor thy enemy, you will succumb in every battle.' Sun Tzu, Art of War.' Tribby gave him a self-mocking smile. 'Martial artists love that book.'
Spike looked at her pointedly. 'Next time you're at Watcher Central, ask Aubrey for a good book on your enemies.'
'Or I could just ask the real expert.' At his blank look, she elaborated. 'Dawn.'
'Really?' He couldn't keep the pride out of his voice.
'Unlike most Watchers, she's actually lived with a vampire.'
'So do you,' he pointed out.
'Oh. I guess I do.' She smiled at the realization.
Spike waved her away, then sat and stared at his blank computer screen until he remembered that someone might interpret this as brooding. He didn't have anything that really needed doing, unfortunately, nothing that would keep his mind off the warm rush of feeling when Angel came to his defense, the pain that he'd felt at seeing the hurt in Buffy's eyes. If there was something he could do, other than sacrificing parts of the soul that he had fought so hard to regain, he couldn't think of it.
'Ah, brooding,' came a voice from the doorway, 'a vampire's favorite pastime.'
He had lapsed into staring at the blank monitor again. 'Not brooding, whelp,' he said, so grateful to see Xander that he came around his desk to give the dark-haired young human a hug, 'just thinking.'
'Riiight,' Xander agreed good-naturedly. They sat down on the couch. 'Dawn said you were meeting Kayla here?'
'Yeah?'
'You're looking at her new Watcher.'
'Rupes already decided?'
'Yeah. McGann wanted her, but Giles didn't think he was emotionally ready for another slayer.'
'Good call.'
'Anyway, I thought I'd stop by and give her the,' he pretended to shoot his cuffs, 'good news in person.'
'She liked Caro.'
'I liked Caro. She had more personality than most of the Tweed Brigade.'
'Who gets Tribby?'
'Pelham. He flatly refused at first; said she was too much under the influence of dangerous elements.'
'That would be,' Spike smiled faintly, 'me?'
'You are correct, sir.'
'How do you know Carson? You're too young.'
'I had a TV in my room for a while when I was young – an electronic babysitter. Used to stay up late and watch The Tonight Show. I loved Karnak the Magnificent.'
'Leonard J. Waxdeck and the bird imitations, me. No one like Carson.'
'Conan's okay, but that's getting to be too late for an old man like me to stay awake.'
'And this is the point where I'm supposed to say something like, bloody hell, Harris, you're still a pup?'
'I would appreciate it.' He propped an ankle on the opposite knee and regarded his shoe. 'Saw the Buffster doing that slow karate stuff with Angel down in the training room.'
'Tai Chi. Yeah.'
Since Spike obviously wasn't in the mood to talk about it, Xander changed the subject. 'Got plans for Thanksgiving?'
The blond man lifted his shoulders. 'Got a couple of invites, but nothing in town. Gotta be here, since I volunteered to make Bit's life easier and patrol during the holiday weekend. What about you?'
'Going to meet the parents,' he said heavily.
'Ah. Nervous?'
'No, I'm actually not. I can't imagine that Lina's family will be scarier than mine.'
'You going to Elmwood next month to see them?'
'Yes, those are my Norman Rockwell Christmas plans,' Xander agreed, more irony than bitterness in his voice. 'I still can't decide whether to ask Lina to go with me. I mean, I like her too much to subject her to them, but you can't not introduce the girl you love to your parents.'
'Love?' Spike teased.
Staring at his shoe again, a private smile touched Xander's mouth. 'Yes, I guess it is.'
'Good for you, mate.'
'You know,' he mused, 'it isn't very flattering or even how I think about myself, but the word 'resilient' keeps coming to mind when I think about two-three years ago and where I am now.' Xander shook his head. 'I can't help but be glad that there was someone else out there for me, but I feel a little guilty, too.'
'Grateful, not guilty.'
'I still find myself wondering what Anya would have to say about this or that, thinking up ways she could make me cringe.'
'Wonderful girl.' Then guilt tinged Spike's expression. 'I mean,' he gestured vaguely, 'you know.'
'I know,' he agreed in a quiet voice. Then, hearty, 'So, any chance you can skate off patrol and come see the Jets defeat our beloved Browns? I've got a couple of tickets. Not good seats, but not too bad.'
'Skate…? Oh, you mean skive. No. Last time Vashti and I patrol together before she heads off to India for a month, innit? Can't miss that.'
Xander nodded. 'I think I'll ask Jacobson, then. He'll be appalled by the prospect of American football, but too polite to turn me down.'
'He's not bad, for a Watcher.'
'Hey, show the proper respect. Watcher, here. And,' he added, a glint of wickedness in his brown eyes, 'so are you.'
They discussed the Browns' prospects (negligible) and the support of Cleveland fans (astounding) for a few minutes, until Vashti bounced in, bobbing her head to whatever was playing on her MP3.
'Hey, it's the world's toughest Canadian,' Xander greeted her. Kayla and the other Cleveland veterans routinely called her T.C.
'Hey,' she said, her hands busy turning off her music. 'Did you guys know it's started snowing?'
'Really?'
Spike smiled at the excitement in Xander's voice. 'California native,' he said, inclining his head.
'We don't get this much snow in Vancouver, either. Spike, after Kayla gets here, can we stop and grab a bite before patrol? I'm famished.'
Spike, distracted for a moment by Buffy and Angel's auras, jerked a little before refocusing on Vashti. 'What is it with you slayers today? Bottomless pits, the lot of you.'
⸹
Buffy was in a black mood. She had hoped to have some semblance of a family Thanksgiving, and Xander had just informed her that he was going to Toledo. Willow and Oz were going out West to visit family. Dawn was spending the holiday in Minnesota with Kayla, and she flatly refused to reconsider. Giles would come, but he was still cool toward Angel. While a Summers' Thanksgiving sometimes had consisted of just three people in the past, Joyce and Dawn had been the other two.
Buffy kicked a beer bottle viciously toward a dumpster, with the satisfying result that it smashed on the open lid and all the shards fell neatly inside. Part of her bad mood was because Dawn had scheduled her for a double shift, back-to-back patrols with her current two least favorite slayers, Tribby and Maria. Buffy had long since realized that her sister did not team her up with Spike anymore, and she couldn't even pretend that it was Dawn's decision. If it hadn't been Spike's idea, he would have complained. Dawn usually paired her with Watchers these days. Since the mostly British Watchers would be doing the patrolling while the Americans scattered to their family homes for the Thanksgiving holiday, the week was frontloaded with slayer pairings.
Tribby, at least, didn't talk much, and they went through the first patrol of the night at a brisk clip in near silence. Buffy had gotten out of her that she was going to Tennessee for Thanksgiving since she had promised to spend Christmas in Miami with her mother. The Slayer didn't want to think about why there was a tiny easing sensation in her chest just from knowing that Spike's non-Dawn roommate would be out of town a lot the next couple of months.
Now Buffy saw Maria in the distance, her dark hair loose and curling despite the fact that vampires like long hair… or maybe because they like long hair. Raising a hand in greeting, she pasted a smile on her face. 'Hey, Maria.'
'Hey, Buffy. You look nice tonight.'
'Thanks.' Her tone was dry; she had her hair pulled back in a loose bun and had slathered on moisturizer instead of applying makeup. 'I like it when the vampires drop at my feet; it makes them easier to slay.'
Not quite able to decide if Buffy was being sarcastic in a biting way, Maria settled for just nodding. They headed toward downtown, where Buffy thought they were more likely to find aliens or leprechauns than vampires. No prey was out on this raw weekday, so the predators would be cozy in their crypts and lairs, too. After a few blocks, Maria tried again.
'Cold tonight.'
'Very, especially for us California girls.'
'Yeah.' Maria pulled her hands inside the cuffs of her jacket. 'Are you going back to Cali for Thanksgiving?'
'No. You?'
'Yeah. I haven't seen my family since August. I guess your family is here, though. No more Sunnydale.'
'No more Sunnydale,' Buffy agreed.
'I heard Dawn was going to Minnesota with Kayla.'
'She is.'
'What about Giles and Spike?'
Buffy bit down on the first words that came to mind. She was willing to bet that Maria didn't care where the Head of the Council of Watchers spent his holiday. 'Giles is coming over for dinner. I don't know what Spike's plans are.'
'I heard that a bunch of the English Watchers are going to get together for, like, an anti-Thanksgiving and have spotted dick or something,' Maria said. 'Maybe he'll go to that.'
'Because he's so welcome?' Buffy said sarcastically, then immediately wished she'd kept her mouth shut.
'Yeah, they don't like him much,' the other slayer agreed. She rolled her shoulders in an elaborate shrug. 'That's okay; the slayers like him. We like him just fine.'
'Uh-huh,' Buffy agreed neutrally. Kittens and their claws.
'Buffy, can I ask you something?'
Can I stop you? 'Sure.'
'What's so special about Angel?'
'What?' She hadn't expected this question.
'Not to be all up in your business, but everyone knows you chose him over Spike. I just don't see it.'
Buffy turned, peering at the taller slayer over the edge of her turned-up collar. 'You don't see why a woman might want Angel?'
Maria shrugged. 'He's okay. I've been around dark-haired men all my life, so… I've seen better. But, you know, not about me. Between the two, I just wondered why you chose Angel. I know it isn't based on looks.'
'Angel was the first man I ever loved.'
Maria was quiet for a long time. They walked through the empty streets, the occasional slushy sound of a car driving through the snow-wet streets the loudest thing they heard. The younger slayer finally looked over at her. 'Thanks for telling me. I always wondered.'
'I-it's okay.' Buffy felt a little like she'd been hit with a pillow when she'd been expecting a brick. 'I know the potentials had a different expectation about how things would turn out.'
Maria nodded, and they walked along their route, each lost in her own thoughts. The only demon they found was a fledge exhausted from scrabbling through the frozen ground of her grave, and Buffy, feeling as though it was a mercy killing, dispatched her before the vampire knew they were there. At four-thirty, they stopped by mutual agreement at a convenient store and bought coffee to help them thaw. They finished up the last leg of patrol, ending at the gym, where Maria's Celica was parked next to Angel's classic Mustang.
'Buffy?'
'Mm-hmm?' she said, swallowing a sip of coffee. Like Maria, she had her fingers wrapped around the still-warm cup.
'A lot of times, I see guys come between women, mess up their friendship. I don't think it needs to be that way. You and I, maybe we're not really friends, but I look up to you. I wanted to tell you, straight up so there's no misunderstanding, that I'm aiming for Spike.'
'Aiming for…?'
Maria held her gaze. 'When I first got to know him, he was… exhausted. You know what he'd been through. But he was still fun, you know?' She lifted her shoulders. 'Now, he's…' A sly grin curved her mouth. 'He's hot. I live for the nights we use paint on the fake stakes and he changes his shirt. And he's more affectionate now, so more hugs. But he isn't as much fun. Spike seemed happier in Sunnydale. I'd like to see him that way again. And since you've got a man of your own… Maybe Spike and I can make each other happy. I just don't want you to hear secondhand.'
Buffy clutched the coffee tightly between her palms, the only thing stopping her from throwing it in Maria's pretty, confident face the fact that it was no longer hot enough to scald. Her mind raced wildly past killing the bitch to the uproar of finding another slayer's body by the gym, to her Watcher's grief over the loss. It stopped her; she'd seen what losing Natalie had done to McGann, and Buffy couldn't bring herself to do that to Vishnaswamy.
'Thanks for telling me.' Her voice was quiet, composed.
Maria seemed surprised by the calm acceptance, and she nodded, suddenly awkward. 'Guess I'll head on home. See you tomorrow.'
Buffy sat in the Mustang a long time after Maria left, shaking too much to drive. Spike was her vampire, but since she wouldn't claim him, the rest of the world saw him as available. Eligible. She pondered the word until it stopped making sense, became stupid, a series of meaningless sounds. Eligible to win. Eligible bachelor. She put her head against the steering wheel, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and didn't cry.
⸹
Tuesday was the last training session of the week, since so many slayers were traveling out of state the next day. Buffy made sure she was the last person to arrive, and she came in with her head high, wearing no more makeup than usual, her hair pulled back in a sensible ponytail. What she carried in her hand, though, made the slayers fall silent as she walked directly across the floor to Spike.
Holding out the Slayer's Scythe, she met his surprised eyes. 'I thought it would be a good idea for the other slayers to get used to it.' Spike's thoughts were so easy to read: it was a good idea; she should have let him know earlier; why not?
'Got nothing this exciting planned for tonight.' He took it from her and shifted his grip a bit until it was balanced. 'Good thinking, pet.' Spike made himself look away from her intent, almost hungry gaze.
'Right, then,' he said, raising his voice. 'Gather 'round, my lovelies. Summers brought a treat for you tonight.' Spike passed it to Geneva, starting it down the line so that each of the young women had a chance to touch it as he told them what was known of its provenance, how it had refocused the tremendous power of the original spell that created the line of Slayers and changed each of them from a potential into a slayer. As he finished, he took it back from the last person in line, Bethany. There were no other Watchers at the gym tonight.
'So, all your archetypes right here, Buffy descending into the underworld to come back with a tool to save the people,' he threw her a warm look, 'with more than a little Holy Grail mixed in.' Holding the weapon above his head, he waited until all their eyes were fixed on it. 'Each of you felt it, dunno, thrum in your hands like a plucked guitar string. I don't get that feeling. This is for you alone to wield.'
'You wield it, too,' Ivana pointed out. 'I have seen you.'
Spike looked nonplussed for a moment, then convulsed, holding his hands close to his body. 'Ahh! It burns!' Then he stood up, grinning cheekily. 'No, it doesn't. Sorry, love. Couldn't resist.'
Her face pale, Ivana swatted him. Spike handed her the Scythe, and she feinted a jab at him, an unwilling grin finally blossoming on her own face as the slayers' giggles faded. Moving away, teeth still showing, he went to the rack of weapons along the wall and selected a five-foot length of rebar. Spinning it casually in front of him, he surveyed the group. 'Who wants to have a go with the ravening, fanged menace first?' Ivana looked at him, then shook her head, holding out the Scythe and glancing to her left and right for takers.
'I will.' Buffy stepped forward to reclaim the weapon, unable to keep her cheeks from curving. Spike went still.
'All right!' Tribby's eyes lit with anticipation; she'd waited to see this for months. 'Let's give them some room, people.' She led the way to the edge of the gym, where some slayers leaned against the wall and the rest sat down cross-legged to watch.
Spike began to smile. It had been too long. 'Sure you can handle this?' he smirked, stepping backwards as he slowly circled her, the length of steel in constant motion.
'I can handle anything you've got.' Buffy watched his smile broaden, then he came at her with a vicious downward sweep, a hand on either end of the rebar. She met the attack with the axe.
He ducked to the side, clear and unharmed, now holding two pieces of rebar, just as he had intended. Spike heard the appreciative murmur of voices at this proof of their weapon's strength, but he hardly cared. He was dancing with his Slayer.
Buffy retreated only when absolutely necessary as he came at her with the two bars, working with them as if they were escrima sticks, deadly in either hand. He forced her to use her weapon as a stake or a scythe, not leaving her enough room to swing the axe. She knew there was a small smile on her face, impossible to keep at bay. God, she had missed this. Then Spike sidestepped, coming at her weaker left flank.
'What was that?' Ivana said. 'It was too fast.'
'That,' Tribby said, grinning, 'was excellent peripheral vision. Buffy can see everything that's coming at her. You can't learn that. Look at them!' This last was in a tone of awestruck admiration.
'But what happened?'
'He tried to trap her hands–' Impatient, Tribby put an arm around the younger girl to keep her still. 'Just watch.'
There was a gasp from the crowd as Spike bent backwards, like a contestant in the world's most intense limbo tournament, to avoid Buffy's sweep. He came up chuckling, not to reassure the slayers, just because he was having so much fun. For three minutes, they tested each other, darting away like sandpipers in surf, zooming in close like hummingbirds to nectar. Spike had intended to switch weapons, to show his lovelies what a magnificent Scythe they had, but that was lost to the perfection of the dance.
The Slayer chopped one section of rebar in half again, and Spike managed to get the remaining length between the axe head and the handle, pulling it out of Buffy's grasp. With hardly a glance, he slid the Scythe all the way down and took it in his own hand long enough to toss it in Rona's direction. Dropping the rebar, he spoke, a gleam in his eye. 'Do we really need weapons for this?'
Buffy's lips parted, her gaze locked on his, and she gave him a full, genuine smile, so rare these days. She ran her hand down her abdomen. 'They just make me feel all womanly.'
Her words put a fierce grin on his face, which blurred after a moment and became a display of fangs. Spike laid his head back and roared, then came at her full speed, faster than any of the other slayers in the room had seen him move. What blows Buffy didn't block were dodged; what kicks Spike didn't catch never landed.
Rona handed the Slayer's weapon to Vi. 'God, this isn't even sticky hands. It's….'
'Ballet,' Vi supplied.
'Fire dancing,' Rona suggested.
'Thank God they're on our side.'
The end came suddenly. Buffy hooked an ankle around Spike's knee and leveraged him down, straddling him, her empty fist over his heart. She blew hair out of her face and gave him a triumphant smirk. Then she felt a damp spot on her neck growing cool, drying. He had gotten her first, opposite his bitemark, his mouth leaving an invisible reminder that he was as deadly as she was. Spike was staring up at her, adoration in his now-blue eyes, and he was breathing, that unnecessary rise and fall of his chest, fast and hard.
Buffy was suddenly aware of the applause from their audience, and she scrambled off him, holding out a hand to help him up. When he stood, too close, she did what she'd seen other slayers do, gave him a shallow bow. He returned the gesture of respect by going down on one knee, a subject before his queen, a man asking for the hand of his beloved. She turned pink and looked away, flustered. Of all the eyes on them, she felt Maria's with a particular weight and studiously did not turn her way.
'Buffy, that was incredible!' Tribby was beside her, dark eyes glowing with excitement. 'In nine years of competition, I never saw a fight like that! It was…' She gave up, unable to find a martial arts example. 'It was like the 1992 Kentucky-Duke basketball game!'
'Um,' Buffy said, 'thanks?'
'Buffy, that was amazing,' Ivana, next in line, assured her. 'Your perforated vision is excellent.'
'Girl,' Rona said emphatically, and left it at that.
Spike watched, silent and proud, for a few moments as the slayers reaffirmed their bond with their general, and when he finally did speak, he found it difficult to get them settled down. He had them choose an axe to drill with, and passed the shining Slayer's Scythe down the line so that each woman got a chance to use it. Class could let out early, he decided, ready to kick off the long holiday weekend. He closed with good news.
'Right, then, ducks, flock to me.' He waited until they were gathered loosely around him and captured Rona around the waist. 'Got an announcement concerning the lovely Ro. On New Years Eve, she's going to get married, give Rondell the luckiest break he'll ever get. Go on, then, love, show them the rock.' Spike kissed her cheek, shared a private smile with her, and withdrew as Rona's left hand became the focus of the slayers' attention.
As soon as she could, Buffy followed, tracking Spike to his office. He looked up as she entered, wary, and moved further behind his desk, physically blocking any possible contact with her. Just now his honor was a weak, puling thing next to his desire. 'Something you want to say?' The words weren't the right ones. He was finding it hard to be tactful when he couldn't get past hard. She'd given him hope again through their dance.
'Would you come for Thanksgiving dinner?' she blurted, not having planned to ask at all. Something difficult was building inside her, and she felt the pressure against her lungs like a physical thing.
Spike took a breath; her words weren't the right ones, either. 'Not what I was hoping to hear.'
Buffy stared at him, hating the contrast between the open, laughing man he'd been in the training room and all the defenses he had in place here. Too much time went by, so she licked her dry lips and said, 'Maria is interested in you.'
His expression tightened. 'Don't need you to pimp slayers for me, Summers.' Spike's large hand settled at his waist for a moment, where his belt usually was. Their fight had primed him, the scent of her perspiration-damp body sang in his nostrils. 'Can cull one from the herd myself, I need to.' Shut up, shut up. He didn't want anyone else. But being kind and understanding was much easier when he didn't want to leap across the desk and ravish her against the door. God, Buffy and doors.
She shook her head, dismayed at his assumption. 'No. I didn't mean… She told me she was interested in you, and I….'
He got it then. The dance hadn't been about them. 'And you came in and gave her and everyone a fine display of how I'll always be yours.'
This time Buffy simply closed her eyes and stood there, wishing she had the words. 'Rona's getting married.'
Spike blinked at this unexpected conversational detour. 'Yeah?'
'She's younger than I am.' Buffy took a breath and opened her wide eyes. They were very green. 'You told me once you wanted to put a ring on my finger.'
'I did.' Where was she going with this? 'Ask your sister; she saw it.'
Buffy frowned. 'You actually picked out a ring for me?'
'Paid for it, even, nothing illegal at all.'
'Why?'
'Gonna ask you to marry me, wasn't I? Early on, I had hopes. Married, you wouldn't have had as much trouble with the social workers over keeping Dawn. Married… I coulda taken care of you.'
'I wouldn't have said yes back then.'
'You won't say yes now.' It was his turn to close his eyes for a moment. 'Don't fret, Slayer. I took it back. Box was a little singed from where Soldier Boy burned my crypt, but the store had a generous return policy.'
They regarded each other across the desk for a long time. Finally, Buffy sighed. 'I came to ask you to not sleep with Maria.'
'You just assume I'm available to any slayer who asks? I've turned down offers already, Slayer. Did you forget you asked me to not sleep with your friends?' He smirked, unable to keep his mouth shut. Did she honestly expect a vampire to remain celibate when she wouldn't? 'Course, Maria's not your friend.' Spike watched her swift, silent anger as she absorbed this, then braced his hands on the desk and leaned across. 'What if I ask you to not sleep with my friends? What if I ask you not to sleep with Angel?' he challenged.
She lifted her chin, opened her mouth to say something, then turned and left his office. He watched her go, listened to her retreating steps, felt her aura recede. Spike closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw clenching. Could that have gone any worse? He slammed his fists down against the desk, denting the metal beneath the layers of files and papers.
⸹
Dawn waited until she was sure Kayla was asleep, then stealthily put her cold feet against her friend's warm calves. And she'd thought Ohio was frigid.
It was late on Black Friday. Still stuffed with turkey and ham and all the trimmings, Dawn had gone with Kayla's sisters and mother to the post-Thanksgiving sales, all of them squeezing into a creaky minivan at four in the morning. They hadn't returned until after two in the afternoon, a bout of shopping that even Buffy might not survive. Dawn certainly hadn't.
She had fallen in love with Kayla's family, their farm, even their livestock, and she had nattered on about milking a cow when she called Spike before falling into bed at an unheard-of nine o'clock. The small town was charming, and everyone was so normal that she felt like she must stick out like Lorne at a church picnic.
The one thing that Dawn was hoping for hadn't happened. Kayla's, brothers were too old or too young. Listening to her friend's steady breathing, she thought of what she'd told Spike once, that she just wanted someone for herself. Mitch wasn't that someone.
Dawn took in a deep breath, immediately burrowing her nose under the layers of homemade quilts to get away from the cool air in the old farmhouse. Really, it was better to be alone than to be in the wrong kind of relationship. Her sister, for instance, was sharing an apartment and a bed with someone she didn't even realize she wasn't in love with anymore.
She had seen it one Sunday afternoon, accompanying Buffy home to see a new pair of boots after they had their customary lunch. Angel had been awake, sitting on the couch and reading a book. Buffy had been almost perky over fajitas and a margarita, but grew serious when they got to the apartment. She gave Angel a fond kiss, greeted him, and then never said anything else to him the whole time Dawn was there. For his part, Angel read his book without ever looking up. The two of them had longed for each other for years without ever realizing what they dreamed of was not there anymore.
Oh, Dawn would never deny that Buffy and Angel loved each other, but comfortable distance wasn't what she wanted for herself. She wanted passion and laughter and honesty. She wanted to have a best friend and a lover in one. She still wanted someone to look at her with the same expression Spike had worn when he saw Buffy, newly returned from the grave, her knuckles scraped and raw. He had even looked at her like that once, when he'd been crazy and convinced she was dead. But he wasn't hers.
Sighing, her feet warm now, Dawn rolled onto her back. It wasn't Spike she wanted anymore, her girlhood crush long since evolved into a truer love for her best friend, but if anyone ever offered her what he wanted to give her sister, unswerving devotion in a handsome, fun-loving package, she'd grab on with both hands and never let go.
Not that anyone was offering.
Did other people wonder about their place in the world, she thought, wondered if their existence was tenuous, or was it just because of her own origins that she worried that one day she would simply evaporate? If that was meant to be her final fate, then maybe she would never meet anyone, never fall in love, never cause another being the kind of devastation she'd seen in Spike and Buffy when the other was gone. Dawn didn't want to hurt someone that way, didn't want someone to grieve for her at the expense of everything else.
But if she was going to stay here and age and have a life, Dawn couldn't help wanting someone of her very own, someone to love.
⸹
'You know,' Kayla said conversationally, 'I'm beginning to not believe in global warming.'
'Is that right?' Spike replied, disinterested.
'If there was global warming, it wouldn't be this cold.'
'You're from Minnesota, pet. Surely you're used to it.'
Kayla raised an eyebrow. 'I never went outside and walked in twenty-degree weather for hours in Minnesota. We're too smart for that.' They went on in silence, cutting between couples and small knots of happy people on their way home after dinner as they wended their way down Mayfield, in the Little Italy section. This first Monday after Thanksgiving, the holiday spirit was already apparent and still felt new rather than commercialized and jaded.
Lost in his own thoughts, Spike ignored the Christmas decorations. He had spent the last few days either kicking himself for letting Buffy leave his office without making a decision or debating which slayer he could sleep with to piss her off the most. Throughout the long weekend, he had been alone in the apartment with nothing else to think about and no one in town to distract him. Giles and Aubrey had disappeared into a black hole of research together, and he no longer sought opportunities to spend time with Angel. A year ago, he'd been newly recorporealized and united with his family. How had that slipped away, with all of them in one town now?
Kayla snorted, drawing his attention back to her. 'They always do that,' she said, gesturing at a restaurant across the street with a large window that framed a couple dining in the romantic glow of candles. 'Put some gorgeous couple who haven't yet started to fight in public on display for free advertising. Then, you go inside, and everyone else there has screaming children which they won't shut up because they're too busy braying into their cell phones to the people they'd rather be with.' She stopped mid-rant. 'Did that sound bitter?' Kayla glanced over her upturned collar and realized that Spike had halted a few feet behind her, looking apprehensive.
'Bloody hell,' he said, whipping out his cell phone.
'I don't just sound bitter,' Kayla mumbled, watching him dial, 'I am bitter.'
'Bit, thank God you're there. We forgot Tribs' birthday.'
'You forgot, oh male-of-the-species. I've got a cake and a card. All you have to do is sign your name when you get home.'
'Oh.' He took a breath. 'You're a goddess among women, you know that, don't you?'
'Yes, but I never get tired of having it acknowledged. What made you remember, anyway?'
'The fact that I'm currently watching Ty give Tribby a birthday present.' He glanced up to see the slayer lean over the table to embrace Ty, threatening the containment powers of the little black dress she wore. Kayla was right; framed by the window, they were the very image of romance.
'Yup, pretty big clue.'
'Thanks, Nibblet.'
'No problem. Where would you be, ad infinitum, et cetera.'
'Lost, utterly lost. Bye, love.' Spike folded his phone and looked around. Kayla had wandered up to the window and tapped on the glass, making a surprised Ty clutch his heart melodramatically and appalling the sommelier. Tribby laughed and waved back at the other slayer. She looked happy and carefree, which, Spike reflected, was the way it ought to be when one turned twenty-five. Since it hadn't happened that way for him, it should for someone.
'Still bitter?' he asked Kayla as they walked on.
'No. The restaurant should give them a free dessert or something, though, for seating them like that. It's a shame Ty's not het; they do make a lovely couple.' She burrowed her hands deeper into her coat pockets. 'This is her twenty-fifth, isn't it?'
'Big birthday for a slayer,' he agreed. Kayla was looking off in the distance, and he followed her gaze to a thin man loitering beside a doorway. Before they got close, a woman came out and joined him, and they headed innocently to their car.
'And you forgot?' Kayla went on, as if there had been no interruption.
'Don't do birthdays, do I? Didn't want to play favorites amongst the slayers, so it's better to forget everyone's birthday. 'Course, when you live with someone, things change a wee bit.' He looked at her. 'Here you go, love. You need a better coat.' Spike took off his own and helped her into it.
'Oh, Spike, you shouldn't,' Kayla protested, but her big, brown eyes lit up at the gallantry.
'Course I should.' He shrugged and tugged at the long-sleeved turtleneck he was wearing. 'Cold doesn't bother me, and so long as no one looks too closely, I won't look odd.' The prophetic dream of Natalie's death had taken a toll on Kayla, and he was pleased to see a hint of her old sparkle returning.
'How long have you had this coat?' she asked, running an appreciative hand over the supple leather before tucking it back inside a pocket.
'Since last year in Italy. Before that, had one similar for almost thirty years.'
She caught the note of sorrow in his voice. 'That's longer than I've been alive,' she said brightly, hoping to distract him, get him to tell a story.
'Longer than I was alive myself.'
There was nothing she could say to that, so they walked in silence for a while, heading toward the University. 'Have you seen Giles lately?' Kayla asked, knowing that it sounded abrupt.
'No. Willingham bought some fragment of parchment that he made over, then Rupes was mad for it, too. Dunno what it is, but it's taken all their time lately.'
'I saw him in the kitchen yesterday, and he sort of looked up from the notes he was holding and said,' she slipped into a pretty good Giles imitation, 'oh, hullo, dear,' then walked into the doorframe. I could have been a space alien for all he noticed.'
Spike raised his eyebrows. 'Can't say that I've ever seen him that preoccupied before.'
When their patrol was over, Kayla elected to go back with him to visit Dawn and have birthday cake. Tribby hadn't returned, and the three of them settled on the couch to watch Conan O'Brien while they waited. Before the show came on, though, Spike sat upright and, with a muffled curse, pelted for the stairs, pausing only to grab a stake from the cache by the door.
Three floors down, his sense of other vampires in the vicinity began to fade, and by the time he threw open the front door, it was over. Tribby was standing on one foot, holding a double-ended stake in one hand and her shoe in the other, examining its broken heel. She shrugged, a wry expression on her face. Ty was next to her, holding her coat and purse, looking shocked.
'You just stabbed those guys,' he said, his face blank but his voice tight. 'And they exploded. You killed them.'
'Can't kill what's already dead,' Spike said, but his eyes were on the slayer. 'How many?'
'Seven.' Her tone was just as grave, but she cut her eyes to Ty meaningfully. This made twice that a group of vampires had been in suspicious proximity to their apartment, but now wasn't the time to discuss it. 'Hey, Dawn. Hey, Kayla. It's over. We're fine.'
Ty, fumbling for his cell phone, didn't notice the two women in the doorway. 'We have to call somebody, the police or something.'
'No.' Spike took the phone from his grasp and slung an arm over the young human's shoulders. 'Come on up for a bit, Ty. We need to tell you some things that you don't know about Cleveland.'
⸹
'Have you tried the not killing of at least one of these vampires?' Giles asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had called a meeting of the Sunnydale veterans in the conference room of the new offices he'd rented for the Watchers, mostly because it was certified free of listening devices. Buffy sat on his right, next to Angel. Oz, Willow, Xander, Dawn, and Spike were there, as well as Aubrey and, for this unrelated matter, Tribby.
She looked uncomfortable at the censure in Giles' tone. 'The second time, there was a, uh, civilian present.'
'No, my dear,' he said, forcing a smile, 'that's what we do, isn't it, kill vampires? I'm not faulting you. It's just, I would like to have more information. And we do have that lovely holding cell at the armory.'
Aubrey was frowning. 'There are no active cemeteries or reported nests in the area. The only explanation is that they were there for a purpose.'
'To get Spike,' Xander said, making the blond vampire snort in derision. The dark-haired human smiled and added generously, 'However futile that might be.'
Giles studiously did not look at Dawn. 'Whoever or whatever they might be after, if there is another attempt, please try to save one of the attackers for interrogation.'
'Yes, sir.' Tribby glanced over at Spike, who smiled faintly at her respectful answer. Her gaze went back to Giles. 'Will you need me for anything else?'
'No.' He perched his glasses on his nose again, then realized he had sounded abrupt. 'Thank you, my dear, for coming by, and, er, happy birthday.' Once the slayer had made her exit, he sighed. 'Spike, you're quite sure you haven't noticed anyone from your past in the vicinity? Nothing like that woman Eve who kidnapped Angel?'
Aubrey shifted, watching Spike shake his head. He had become fond of the blond vampire after bonding over drinking songs. Giles had also confided to him that Spike had been an Oxford man, once. 'I'll have Hoggard and Willis do a scan of the area for magical loci, just in case there's something else that brings them to the neighborhood.'
'Good idea.' Giles let out another sigh and mentally girded himself. 'Right. The main reason I wanted you here today is because, though I am hesitant to say it,' here he shot an almost irritated look at Willingham, 'we believe we've made progress toward identifying the energy source.' His piercing gaze fell on Buffy. 'The first clue we had was a Slayer dream. Would you care to recount it for us, Buffy?'
She did so, and when she told about the setting, the marina where her parents would take her out on a boat, Spike caught the uncomfortable movement of Dawn's hands. He covered them with his own, knowing that she got upset when she didn't have memories to match Buffy's. When the Slayer finished, he was frowning, too. He'd never heard her tell about the dream before.
'Dunno that it's important, Rupert, but that reminds me of something I heard in the second battle.' He told them about going down into the caves beneath the building afterwards and the sound that he had heard. 'Coulda been a bat's wings, but I'm almost positive it was the snap of a sail.'
Aubrey seemed much more excited by this than Giles. 'You're quite sure? You're familiar with sailboats?' When the blond man nodded, he gave the Head of the Council a brisk nod. 'Excellent. Shall I, or would you like to proceed?'
Giles gave him a tight smile. 'No, please, go ahead.'
'Right, then. One of the things I've always done – one of the things that makes me the researcher I am – is monitor the black market for occult material. Not only do I occasionally run across some volume or fragment that was assumed lost, I also became familiar with the hoaxes that pop up every few years, with the legendary bits that someone says they've seen in a private collection, and so forth. Keeping track became much easier in the nineties, as the technopagans moved the occult market online.' Buffy met Giles' gaze for a moment, and he gave her a sad smile. 'Prices went up, it's true,' Willingham continued, 'since more interested parties were aware of what was up for bid, but I didn't have to submit as many travel requisitions, so it balanced out.'
'Anyhow,' he said, seeing Xander squirm restlessly, 'one of the things that I remembered from many years ago was an odd little Turkish document that referenced the Kanai prophecy in a tangential way. When it came up for auction last month, I knew we had to have it. And sure enough, it's allowed us to identify the source of the energy that draws the demons to battle.'
Giles rolled his eyes. 'Possibly.' Then he gave Aubrey an apologetic look. 'Honestly, I don't know why I balk at this, when we've faced nearly everything except pixies.'
Mollified, Willingham resettled his bulk and went on. 'Young Rupert does have a point; this is certainly out of fairy tales.' Willow and Xander exchanged a quick, amused look at his description of Giles as young. 'However, it's also certainly a source of great, apparently limitless power, one which we should endeavor to keep out the hands of dark forces at all cost.'
'What is the source of the energy?' Buffy asked, almost able to keep the impatience out of her voice.
'Not a what, a whom,' Aubrey said. Then, with deliberate drama, he named it. 'A djinn.' When only Spike and Willow reacted, he added in a disappointed tone, 'A, er, genie.'
Xander's brow furrowed. 'Like, genie in a bottle? An I Dream of Jeannie genie?' He leaned into the table, grinning. 'In which case, I volunteer to find her.'
Oz was frowning. 'Isn't there a Hebrew legend that genies are demons that King Solomon bound?' He glanced at Willow for confirmation.
Aubrey nodded vigorously. 'Yes, there is. Oh, there are fabulous tales about the djinn.'
'But they are demons?' Buffy asked, just for clarification.
'Yes, but the interesting thing is that the stories conflict about whether they are good or bad. In fact, they may – like humans – be both. The only element that agrees in all the stories is that their power is nearly limitless.'
'Do you think they are the same thing as the Old Ones?' Angel asked. He saw Spike send him a swift look that he didn't meet.
'No. I doubt even a sorcerer as great as King Solomon could have bound a number of Old Ones. However, there could be some connection between them that was not preserved for posterity. After all, the Old Ones are mentioned in the Kanai prophecy, too.'
'The important thing,' Giles said, his voice a bit loud at first to gain everyone's attention, 'is that we now have a sense of what might be done if the demons get to the energy source first. Imagine what a demon might wish for.' The people around the table grew quiet and somber as they pondered this.
'A world without sunlight,' Angel offered grimly.
'A world without slayers,' Xander said.
'Let's bring Clem with us next time there's a battle,' Dawn said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. 'He'd wish for a world full of junk food and tasty kittens.' It worked, and Spike threw her an admiring glance.
Oz snorted. 'Just saying, he's already made the wish.'
Willow's expression became wary. 'How do you know what kittens taste like?'
Oz was saved from answering by Spike, who leaned impatiently over the table. 'Yeah, well, 'cept for Clem, demons are stupid. No sunlight or slayers, pretty soon no prey, either. My guess is that whoever gets it would wish for power or the ever-popular hell on earth.'
Giles coughed in a patently fake way, almost covering the words, 'The Judge!' He returned Spike's irate glare with a look of innocence.
'That was mostly for Dru, an' me bein' too depressed to care. Anyway,' he went on, resolutely not looking at Buffy, 'Rupes is right. Even more reason to put an end to this.'
'What if we're supposed to make a wish? What do we wish for?' Oz put his hands under the table and rocked forward a little, his eyes fixed on the wood.
This led to a fearful silence, which Dawn broke with a bit of a grin. 'That world full of junk food isn't sounding like such a bad thing.' This time, no one laughed.
'It's been a long time since I read A Thousand and One Nights,' Willow said, a frown of concentration on her brow, 'but doesn't the genie usually set conditions on what can be wished? So, until we actually get to a genie and uncork the bottle or rub the lamp or whatever and see what we're allowed to wish, maybe we shouldn't worry too much about it.
'Sound logic,' Giles agreed. He took off his glasses. 'Aubrey, I can't begin to tell you how impressive this is. I don't know that a supercomputer could have put together such disparate sources of information. I wanted to say publicly how grateful I am to you – even if it is a genie.'
The old man beamed. 'You're quite welcome.'
Rupert finished up the meeting with some general announcements and an admonition to keep this latest development private. After he dismissed them, Xander turned to Willow and Oz. 'How about some lunch?'
Oz shook his head. 'Sound check.' He shrugged. 'It's almost like being in a real band.'
'I'm game. Non-pub food,' Willow added enthusiastically. 'What about you, Buffy?'
She paused, halfway risen from the table. 'No,' the Slayer said slowly, glancing at Angel. 'Not today.'
'Go on, Buffy,' Angel urged. 'I'll probably just go home and nap.'
She smiled at him. 'Sounds good to me, too. A nap, I mean.' Buffy turned the smile on Xander. 'I'm not very hungry.'
'Okay.' He gave her back his own insincere smile. 'Some other time then.' Xander glanced around. 'Anyone else?' Dawn had class, and Spike had offered to drive Giles back to Watcher Central, so it was just the two old friends.
After the usual discussion of who had Chinese just last night and who wasn't really in the mood for burgers, they settled on a Mexican restaurant. Willow scanned the menu, found a likely entrée, then smiled brightly at Xander. 'So. Toledo. How'd it go?'
'Lina's family embarrasses her,' Xander said. 'I could tell. And there I was, thinking that if my family was even a quarter as functional as hers is, I'd be ecstatic.'
'Why do they embarrass her?'
He shrugged. 'Her mom is a little on the religious side – her family is Catholic – and her dad is blue collar. With five brothers and sisters, I'm not sure what embarrassing qualities are attached to which just yet.' Xander nodded at the waitress as she set a glass of water by his elbow. He moved it and gave Willow a look, countering, 'And how did it go in Arizona?'
'Pretty well until my mother asked Oz where he was matriculating. Then she began hinting that I might discover some nice member of the faculty at Oxford is an eligible bachelor – or bachelorette.'
'Willow!' he said with mock sternness. 'How dare you not follow her template for your future?'
'Yeah, in academics, married to an academic, at an academic institution that pays well enough to hire a nanny for my two-point-five.'
'What about your father?' Xander had a soft spot for the man, a quiet sort overwhelmed by his steamroller of a wife.
'He stayed in his study most of the time. I don't think work on his book is going well.' She took a sip of her own water. 'But they're healthy and as happy as they get, and still dining out on tales of surviving Sunnydale.'
'Really?' Xander looked faintly impressed. 'I've got to work that angle more. Since, you know, I was actually in Sunnydale for the big collapse instead of in Arizona.'
'What about your part of the parental unveiling?'
He winced. 'Christmas. I've already booked the flight. Got a convertible booked, too, so we can put the top down and head to Santa Monica as soon as things with my family get ugly.'
'Only staying one afternoon, then.'
'Exactly.'
The waitress came back to take their order, and the two friends spoke about day-to-day things until their food arrived. Xander was picking at his refried beans before the conversation turned to the Council.
'So, what did you think of the new Big Bad this morning?'
'Oh, I don't know,' he replied, 'maybe not so bad.'
'Yeah, I guess we'll see.' Willow pushed a wilted piece of lettuce to the edge of her plate, looking gloomy.
Xander picked up on it. 'Where'd shiny, happy Willow go?'
'Behind the cloud that constantly hangs over Buffy.' She met his brown eyes. 'Xander, remember when Buffy would have been the first one with a Christina Aguilera joke? I mean, genie, and she doesn't even crack a smile.'
'I know.' Xander's voice was quiet. 'I guess I'm always going to worry about her, but I don't even know where to begin these days, what to look for.' He thought of Spike's private briefing about the way she gave up during the battle with the gunfire finale. 'I miss her, Wil.'
'I do, too.' They exchanged a guilty look. 'I-I don't feel like I can interfere, not after…' She traced her fork through a smudge of salsa.
Lunch ended on a somber note, with Willow hugging him before popping back to the UK. Xander drove to the gym, pondering the forced smiles and old eyes of his good friend Buffy Summers.
⸹
'So,' Spike said by way of preamble, 'why'd Willingham think it important about the ships and sails,' he slammed the truck door and found he was unable not to add, 'and sealing wax and cabbages and kings?'
'The djinn are always associated with the sea,' Giles explained, taking care to buckle his seat belt tightly. 'Solomon was supposed to have cast them into the ocean inside their prisons, but even before that, the lore connects them to open water.' The Watcher gripped the 'oh-shit' handle above the door as they careened around a corner, but otherwise showed no undue concern. 'Seems less than legendary wisdom to toss out demons in bottles that float and not expect them to come home to roost.'
Spike smirked at some private thought. 'Yeah, really shoulda weighted them down so they'd sink.'
Giles raised an eyebrow at the self-satisfied expression on his companion's face, but when Spike didn't elaborate, he sighed. 'I can't imagine why a djinn would be drawn to a Hellmouth, even one close to the ocean like the one in Sunnydale.'
'Yeah, well, like Red pointed out, no use rubbin' the lamp before we get our hands on it.'
'True.'
It was Spike's turn to raise his brows. 'You really believe Willingham is right?'
'Aubrey has a good deal of common sense to go along with his fine researcher's mind. He may get excited over arcane knowledge, but I've never known him to bring forward an idea without being sure of it.'
After a few moments of silence and a false start, Spike grimaced and made himself say it. 'You lot have checked out Harris' new bird, haven't you?'
'Yes. Human.'
'Ah.' He pulled off the freeway toward the Payne-Sterling section of town, cutting kitty-corner through an intersection to a indignant series of beeps from an elderly woman in a Buick. 'Bloody hell. Thought we might be able to use the whelp to locate the genie.'
'It's unlikely to be gendered – though, with that kind of power, it certainly could appear as anything it wished.'
Spike was frowning. 'It won't manifest. We won't see it until it's found,' he said, something sure in his voice. 'Something like it's bound by the prophecy, not able to do as it wishes, to be here when there's not a battle.'
'I rather think you're right, William. Let's hope it's grateful to be freed of the constraints of the prophecy, whatever those might be.'
'Or that we don't have even have to let it loose.'
⸹
Buffy smoothed Angel's eyebrow, making him twitch in his sleep, making her smile. He was so handsome, even when he was twitchy.
She loved him; knowing that she really did love him was the best thing about their relationship, just being positive that she could still love. They had good chemistry, too; anytime they were in proximity, smooches soon followed. And she loved to see him so happy.
Sometimes, though, she wished they had more in common.
Buffy bit her lip and eased away from his naked form. She had lain down to nap with him, but between her hands and his lips, one thing had led to another. Lovemaking always left her either revved up and ready to go or relaxed and ready to sleep; there was no in between, except with – There was no in between. She was completely awake now, so she figured she might as well go work on her paper for her history class. Buffy had no doubt she was going to make an 'A;' she studied more living here with Angel than she had at any other time in her checkered college career.
Instead of reading the pile of journal articles she'd downloaded from the library's databases, Buffy sat at the kitchen table and stared into space, listening to the quiet apartment, feeling odd. It took her a moment to place it. She was lonely.
She'd been talking to Angel last night about nothing in particular, but when she looked across the couch at him after the second 'mm-hmm,' she saw he was watching something about a hockey strike on ESPN. Nothing, really, but it had jolted her, made her realize all over again how few interests they shared.
More important, he never shared anything with her. He'd turn off the television when she came to sit with him, rather than just let her watch, too. When she asked him what he was reading, his standard answer was 'nothing interesting.' Angel never told stories about his time in Los Angeles, never shared any of his past with her. Oh, she knew why; most of his past was repugnant to them both. It never stopped Spike, though. He might not tell her what he called 'hunting stories,' but she knew more about Darla from him than she did from Angel, the vampire she'd sired and kept in her bed for a hundred and fifty years. Even some tales from Angel's human past would be nice, because he'd known her since she was just a girl. He knew all her stories; she knew too much to ask him his, and sometimes it seemed they had nothing at all to talk about.
It doesn't matter, she told herself as she always did, firming her mouth. There were times when they would have a long lapse in conversation, when the silence would stretch and seem awkward to her. Then Angel would look down at her and smile, such open happiness on his face that it took her breath away. He loved her, too, and she knew that he was grateful that he could feel that, the same way she was grateful.
Love was enough. She would make it be enough.
Buffy listened to the silence another minute, though, to how quiet the air in their apartment was. She tried to think of the last time she'd listened to music. In the car, maybe. Sighing, she pulled a random article from her bookbag, sat down at the kitchen table, and began to read.
⸹
Spike entered the apartment feeling as though he had done all of his good deeds for the week. At Watcher Central, McGann had caught him in the kitchen, and he'd shared a cuppa with the man, listening to him talk through his grief about Natalie's loss. Then, Mrs. Jackson had caught him first thing as he came through the foyer. It was always prudent to be polite to one's landlady, so he'd eaten some of her homemade pineapple upside-down cake (which really was very good), and listened to her stories about her grandchildren and her cats.
He wasn't the only one doing good deeds, he saw. Tribby was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, letting Dawn perform hair therapy. His Bit looked up at him but otherwise ignored him. Tribby, wearing a t-shirt with a picture of some stiffly-posed nineteenth century Indian chiefs armed with long guns and the caption 'Homeland Security: Fighting foreign terrorists since 1492,' looked up at him, her expression somewhere between long-suffering and a warning. Dawn had braided the dark hair in two long plaits, emphasizing her high, flat cheekbones.
'… better off without him, the turd-monkey,' Dawn rattled on, pausing only long enough to glance up. 'Hey, Spike.'
'Nibblet. Tribs.' He debated on whether to kip before meeting Angel for patrol later, but decided against it and took the other end of the couch from Dawn, closest to the television remote.
'Let's see.' Tribby turned around obligingly, and Dawn examined her work. 'Wow, Trib, you look like an Indian princess, Pocahontas or something.'
'That noble?'
Spike bit down on the inside of his jaw at the dry tone, resolutely not grinning. In his dealings with them, Geneva and Tribby both had mentioned the phrase 'noble savage' with irony.
'Well, I don't know if 'noble' is the right word.' Dawn tilted her head. 'Serene, maybe.' She held up a mirror.
'Here,' the older woman said, moving up onto the couch, 'let me do a coronet for you. You'll look like a Russian princess – except, you know, pretty.'
'Princesses are always pretty,' Dawn protested.
Spike snorted. 'No,' he said emphatically. 'You're used to the modern age of princesses – Grace Kelly, Princess Di. They're not royal princesses, Bit, just married into it. The princesses of Europe before the World Wars,' he shuddered, 'were a skanky, inbred lot.'
'All of them?' Tribby stopped brushing Dawn's hair. 'I just said that based on some portraits I've seen.'
He thumbed the off button on the remote and settled in on the couch, feeling expansive as he told them of long ago scandals of insane, promiscuous, and ugly royalty. Dawn, he could tell, was in the mood for malice, so he laid it on thick.
'Did she have the Hapsbourg lip?' she demanded as he wound down with a particular gruesome princess.
'She had every possible defect, up to and possibly including hermaphroditic organs. And,' he added, pointing a large finger, 'whatever she didn't have, she carried as a recessive gene.'
'Ugly and insane,' Dawn said, some satisfaction in her voice. Then she went even more still, the slayer's hands moving over her hair, braiding the thick tresses. 'There is no fairy tale, is there? I mean, even royalty doesn't get to live happily ever after.'
He saw something in her wide-set eyes and tried to reassure her. 'Dunno, love. Somebody gets the happy ending, I s'pose.'
Tribby stared at Dawn's head, her lips compressing for a second, then her fingers began to move again, briskly. 'Sure. Maybe we just don't see it so much in our line of work.'
No fairy tale for Tribby. Dawn looked down so she wouldn't have to see Spike. No happily ever after for him, either. She felt guilty, being so bitter over a guy she only dated a little while. Mitch had been nice right up until he turned into a jerk, and even with her limited experience, Dawn knew her heart wasn't broken. She cast about for a new topic.
Before she found one, Tribby placed a last pin in her hair and handed her the mirror. 'There. What do you think?'
'Wow.' Dawn turned her head to either side. 'Very medieval. What do you think, Spike?'
'Gorgeous; you know you are. Shows off your eyes.'
'Thank you, Sir Spike,' she said graciously, putting on a high-toned English accent. She handed the mirror back to Tribby. 'So, if princesses aren't pretty, who is?'
'Indian women,' he said promptly, then sent an apologetic look to the slayer. 'Women from India, I mean.' He pronounced 'India' so it sounded like 'Indja.'
Dawn rolled her eyes. 'You, always with the dark hair.'
He shrugged. 'American women, too, pro'ly because of the genetic variety thing.' He glanced at his two ladies on the other end of the couch and waved in their direction. 'Just look at you two.'
'Oh, good save,' Dawn approved. She slid across the couch and propped against his side, then put her feet in Tribby's lap. A little moan of contentment escaped her as she burrowed her bottom into the comfort of the couch. 'So, if I'm not exactly a Czech princess,' she gave Spike a private look, 'can I be an American princess?'
'Abracadabra, you are an American princess.' He touched her nose, giving her a look with his whole heart in his eyes, seeing love mirrored in her own. 'Or my princess, anyway.'
Dawn didn't shy away from his intense gaze, but her attention was drawn by movement at the other end of the couch as Tribby began unbraiding one plait. 'Aw,' the younger woman complained. 'Now you won't be Princess Tribby anymore.'
'There has never been a princess in the entire history of the world named Tribby,' she replied dryly, 'or even Libby.'
'What about your Indian name? Do you have a Cherokee name?'
Before the slayer could answer, Spike spoke up. American horizons schaller pdf reader. 'I do. It's–'
'No! Don't tell your–'
'– Adahihi.'
'…name,' Tribby finished, too late. Her face tightened a little as her eyes went to Spike's.
'Why not?' He shrugged, his voice light and mocking. 'Neither of you are about to work magic with my secret name.' When the slayer didn't look away, he made a mouth. 'S'far as I know, pet, I've never killed any Native Americans. Bird who named me originally wanted to call me, whatsit, the word for panther.'
'Tlvdatsi.'
Dawn looked up at him curiously. 'Who was she? The woman who named you?'
'Remember the story I told the potentials about the ordinary human who gutted Darla and nearly beheaded Angelus? Her.'
'Oh.'
'What does it mean?' When Spike didn't answer, she looked at Tribby expectantly.
'Killer,' she supplied, 'roughly.'
Dawn's nose wrinkled. 'Nice.'
Tribby was frowning as she started unwinding the second braid, then she sighed. 'Kamama.'
'Oh, that's pretty,' Dawn said.
The slayer got a pained look on her face. 'My mother named me, so I'm lucky to even have one.'
'Spill, pet,' Spike said, already smirking.
'Butterfly.'
He snorted.
'Nice,' Dawn said again, in a different tone.
'I,' Tribby said with dignity, 'am no butterfly.'
'Hey, my sister is 'Buffy.' Doesn't keep her from being tough.'
'No, it doesn't,' Spike sighed.
Dawn elbowed him without looking away from Tribby. 'I'm 'Usha' in Hindu, according to Alpana. What's the word for dawn in Cherokee?'
'Degalvyi.'
'Day-gah-luh-yee,' she repeated slowly. 'That's pretty.'
'Pretty name for a pretty girl.'
'You're just full of compliments today, soul man.'
'Complaining?'
'No.' She gave him a narrow look. 'As long as you aren't saying nice things just to cheer me up.'
'One hundred percent genuine compliments,' Spike said, resting his hand over his unbeating heart for a moment.
'All right, then.'
⸹
'Want to get some coffee?' Angel suggested. Spike was driving him home after patrol, the wipers on the truck knocking away snow every few seconds, and he was looking for an excuse to spend a few minutes longer with the Master – with his boy. With Spike, he supposed, who was in such a good mood that he didn't want to waste the opportunity.
'Yeah, all right.' He tilted his blond head to the side, trying to think of the closest doughnut shop.
'Did the Watchers do that scan of your building?' They hadn't seen anything unusual on patrol, unfortunately, only three young vampires whose remains had created a brief and interesting pattern on the crust of snow before the wind blew the grit away.
'This afternoon. The only thing they found was a gremlin living in the dryer in the basement laundry room.' He leered a little. 'Tribs says she has matching bra and panty sets she'll start using again now that one or the other won't go missing.'
'Oh?' Angel raised a brow.
'She won't, though.' He spied the restaurant he had been looking for and nodded in satisfaction; the sign was lit and the inside lights were on. 'All about the sports bras, unfortunately.'
As they waited to turn into the lot, Angel cleared his throat. 'Let's go inside and sit down.' He caught Spike's sharp look out of the corner of his eye and shrugged. 'Just looks inviting.'
The shop did look inviting, its glowing windows cheery against the inky darkness and the swirling snow, and smelled even more seductive, the aroma of coffee and the homey smell of baking doughnuts luring them inside. Since it had been Angel's idea, he paid. As he opened his wallet, Spike pretended to catch something out of the air.
'Moth escaped.' He offered his closed hand to Angel, making the flour-splattered clerk chuckle, making Angel glare.
They sat at a table by one of the windows, coffee and half a dozen fresh pastries between them. Their sense of the sole employee faded as the man moved back into the kitchen, occasional sounds of a blender or 'May I take your order?' coming to their ears.
Spike nodded toward the darkness outside. 'Perishing tonight.'
'A lot colder than L.A.,' Angel agreed. 'Though not as cold as St. Petersburg.'
'Yeah,' Spike agreed, putting his elbows on the table, a smile curving his lean cheeks at the memory. 'God, that was miserable. 'Ve never been constantly hungry like that.'
'And we had to fight for territory on top of it.'
The quality of Spike's smile changed, became arrogant. 'Berks. Shoulda just ceded the city to us the moment they learned Aurelians were in town.'
'Nah. I liked the fight.'
'Yeah.' Spike found he was staring at Angel, still unused to seeing him so open and happy. 'Uh, my favorite part was where you strung up the two brothers outside where Peter the Great would put heads to rot.'
Angel smiled, remembering. 'I didn't realize the sun came out for only a few hours a day that time of year, and with all the cloud cover… It took, what, four days before they dusted?'
'At least that long.' Spike sipped his coffee. 'The Duchess wasn't happy with you.'
'Got her off your back for a while . It was usually you who drew attention to us.' Angel's smile faded. That hadn't always been the case. Early on, Spike had mastered the quiet, elegant kill. The dark memory of Darla leaving him in charge for a fortnight came back to him. Things had changed after that.
'Let it go, mate.'
He met Spike's warm eyes for a moment, then dropped his gaze to his untouched coffee.
'So,' Spike said, changing the topic, 'what did you want to talk about?'
Angel shrugged. 'Nothing.'
'You just prefer being here with me, eatin' human food, to your own warm bed?' There was a very slight edge to his voice.
'Just felt like talking.'
'Well, there's a first.'
'I miss you, Will.' He stared deeper into the dark depths of his coffee, wishing he hadn't blurted out the words.
'Miss you, too, Liam.'
Spike's hand covered his for a moment, and he lifted his head to meet the wry expression. 'Um, other than gremlins, how are things in the new apartment?' He could change the subject, too.
The boy shrugged. 'S'alright. You oughta come by, try out the posh couch me and Nibblet got to replace Tribby's useless futon.'
'How is it, living with her?'
'No different than living with the other slayers, 'cept she's quieter.'
'Is Dawn okay with it?'
Spike's brows drew together. 'It was Bit's idea to move.' Then his brow cleared. 'Oh. You're still on about that fledge thing, aren't you? Wish I hadn't mentioned the underwear, then.' He shook his head. 'Just a word, mate.'
Angel considered the table for a few moments before speaking. 'You train her, she obeys your commands….'
'I train her because she was savvy enough to ask Rupes for private lessons in exchange for coming to Cleveland,' Spike said impatiently. 'You remember how it was before Giles got the inheritance. Didn't have much to offer beyond four-poster and three square.'
'So he offered you?'
He ignored the sardonic tone. 'Yeah, he did. Got three top slayers to relocate, dinnit? Rona and Vi, and Tribs is coming along nicely.' Angel opened his mouth to say something, but Spike raised a hand. 'Fledge' is just a word, but if it applies to one, it applies to all of them. No worries. I would never hurt any of my ladies. Not just a vampire anymore.'
'I know.' Angel looked out the window before he spoke again, his eyes fixed on the blowing snowflakes. 'It isn't hurt that I was thinking of. I guess I'd just like to see you,' he shrugged, 'find somebody.'
'I did.'
Angel let his head fall back and he looked at the ceiling as he tried to find better words. 'I'd like to see you happy, boy. You won't come–'
'Let's leave off the subject of who I'm not sleeping with, and we won't have to discuss who you are sleeping with.'
'Sounds like a plan,' Angel muttered. He drained his cup, the coffee leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. 'I'm ready to go.'
Spike watched his grandsire stalk to the door and wait for him, resentment obvious in his stiff motions. The doughnuts were untouched, and he realized that he had picked out Buffy's favorites. Picking up the closest jelly-filled pastry, he packed it back in the bag. At least they wouldn't go to waste.
They were parked outside Angel's apartment before the silence got to be too much. 'Liam.'
'What?'
Spike stared at the span of steering wheel between his hands. 'Love all my slayers, yeah? Not opposed to sleeping with them, comes down to it. Love my Bit, even fond of some of the Tweed Brigade.' He sighed. 'None of them, not one causes the same… spark that Dru did, that the Slayer does.' He shifted so he could meet Angel's gaze. 'I really resent it when someone shoves a replacement at me.'
'Especially me,' Angel said, and Spike shrugged again. He sighed. 'You know what I really wanted? I just wanted to hear about your day, that kind of thing. Spend time with you. Talk to somebody.'
'You do have somebody to talk to,' Spike pointed out.
'We don't talk much.'
The scarred eyebrow rose. 'You're practically joined at the hip. If you don't talk, what do – Never mind; don't answer that.' The first question that came to mind was whether Buffy was okay, but he changed it. 'Are you okay?'
'I'm fine. I'm happy, I really am.' He looked away from the blond vampire. 'But I get lonesome sometimes. Me with Buffy… Not a popular combination, I'm finding out. That makes us a little,' he frowned, unable to find a better word, 'isolated.'
Spike looked out of the windshield. 'People will come around, accept things the way they are.'
Angel closed his eyes against the bleak tone. 'And I worry about you. Three 'f's, you know, not just two.'
'Reckon it's time to retire that – or change it, maybe. Feedin' and fightin' and family. Works better for us ensouled vampires.' Angel wasn't looking at him, so Spike examined the big man for a few seconds. 'You want to know about my day? After the meeting, I went home and told the Nibblet and Tribs about the beautiful European princesses of our time.'
'Beautiful?' He turned to give Spike an incredulous look.
'S'called sarcasm, mate.'
'They even tasted bad.'
'How on earth do you know that?'
Angel shrugged. 'Playing highwayman along the German forest roads in the early nineteenth century. I leapt on top of a carriage, and this silly bit of fluff inside kept referring to herself in the third person. Even biting her didn't shut her up, and then she started groping at my privates. Blood was so… thin that it wasn't doing much for me down there, so I just bailed out.'
Spike tilted his head. 'Wonder if the blood tasted that way from being a hemophilia carrier?'
'I don't think so. I did bite someone with hemophilia once. Tasted all right, but it was like trying to drink wine out of a goatskin or a bladder bag, just gushing too fast to keep up with. The saliva thing didn't make the wound seal, either.'
'Never noticed hepatitis or HIV-positive blood tasted any different.'
'You drank from someone with AIDS?'
'Course. New York, London, even in L.A. in the early eighties, yeah?'
Angel pondered this. 'Did you ever get up to San Francisco?'
'No, never been. Last place the Sex Pistols ever played, so I've been a bit superstitious about going there. Clem likes it, says it's a good climate for vampires.'
'It is. I spent time there in the late fifties.'
'Really? Beat generation?'
'Nascent hippies.' Angel smiled. 'Sweet kids – not, you know, literally, but there was a sort of innocence about them.'
The pair talked for a while longer, sharing the sorts of things that ensouled vampires couldn't share comfortably with anyone else. The nearby streetlight illuminated their faces, each handsome, each animated by the conversation, their strong, white teeth showing in relaxed smiles.
From the window of the apartment, Buffy watched them talk, a tiny smile on her own face as she peeked around the blinds. A happy Angel fed something inside her, and she was greedy to see any expression on Spike besides wariness. At the end, they met in the middle of the bench seat, the dark and light heads close together. A shock of desire curled through the Slayer to see them in such proximity, lingering even after she realized it wasn't a kiss. She recognized the way they rested their foreheads together, something she'd seen Dawn do with Spike countless times. Buffy considered asking Giles what that was about, but she knew she never would. Quietly, before Angel came inside, she crept back to bed so she could fake being asleep.
⸹
'You want to catch a movie with me on Friday?'
Startled, Spike looked up. It was Tuesday after training, and he thought his slayers had scarpered. 'Maria,' he said, clutching his chest in an exaggerated, you-scared-me gesture. Standing up, he tossed the last few stakes at the box next to the axe cabinet and turned to consider her. She looked especially pretty today, even with her hair drawn back in a loose ponytail. Maria had changed into street clothes, and he was sure she'd left a couple of extra buttons on her shirt open just for him.
Don't sleep with Maria, Buffy had said. She had said nothing else to him, had not approached him, had not even phoned from a safe distance.
'Sure, pet. What's showing?'
⸹
Angel drove carefully back to the apartment after dropping Buffy off for her final examination in her history class. A new driver, she didn't like to be behind the wheel while it was snowing, and Cleveland was getting dumped on by a lake-effect storm. Angel didn't mind taking her on this daylight errand since it meant they had to use the necrotempered Camry that Giles had sold them, keeping his Mustang off the slick roads. Taking a shortcut along a largely abandoned street, he frowned, something tingling at the edge of his senses. Then he saw them, two Krantznitz demons – they always traveled in pairs – and turned the car, skidding across the street in a move Spike would envy and backtracking until he spotted them going into a boarded-up building. Angel considered going in after them alone, but he only had stakes and the Krantznitz had long and poisonous spines.
He burst through the front door of Watcher Central, not bothering to stamp the snow from his feet. 'Giles!' His cell phone battery, typically, had been dead, and this was the closest thing to an emergency he'd seen in Cleveland. 'Where's Giles?' he asked the Watcher who peered out of the study off the living room.
'At the office building,' the man said warily.
Angel wracked his brain for the Watcher's name but came up empty. 'I need a sword or an axe. I wouldn't mind a slayer or two, either. I just spotted two Krantznitz not a mile away from the University.' The human only stood there, staring at him. 'Krantznitz demons. You've heard of them? Claws, paralyzing poison in their spines? Eat their own body weight in whatever they can catch every day?'
The Watcher closed the door behind him and crossed his arms, looking up at Angel with a bland expression tinged with a slight hint of satisfaction. 'You aren't part of the Council. I can hardly authorize slayers on your word.'
'What?' Angel goggled at him, not quite able to believe what he was hearing. It was too ridiculous to make him angry, so he shook his head and said more slowly, 'Krantznitz demons. We have to kill them.'
'You're welcome to do what you like,' he said, and now it was obvious that he was enjoying himself, 'but I don't have to do anything for you.'
Angel went very still and seemed to loom taller than he had a moment before. 'You know who I am. Buffy–'
'Yes,' the human overrode him, 'Buffy. She isn't here right now, is she? She may be our general, but you… Well, you sleep with her. Doesn't say much about her taste,' he sniffed, 'and it doesn't give you access to Council resources. If she's George Washington, that makes you, oh, Martha Washington, doesn't it? And the troops don't follow Martha.'
'And if it was Spike asking?' Angel's voice was dangerous. This attitude had nothing to do with his relationship with Buffy; it was about being a vampire.
'He is, however painful the fact may be, an employee of the Council of Watchers. Analagous to one of Washington's lieutenants, say,' the man smiled again, his eyes raking over Angel, 'Walter Stewart.'
Angel scowled at the comparison. 'I met Stewart; he wasn't that good-looking.'
The Watcher shrugged. 'But William the Bloody isn't here, either.'
He took a moment to leash his temper. 'Is it worth human lives to put me in my place?'
'What could human life possibly mean to you?'
'Hey, Angel,' Kayla said, opening the front door and stomping her boots on the porch before coming inside. 'Hey, Mr. Finnigan.'
Shamed that he shared a homeland with the man's ancestors, Angel turned to the slayer. 'Kayla, you interested in killing a couple of Krantznitz demons with me?'
'Sure!' Kayla stopped unwinding her muffler. 'Beats studying for finals. What kind of weapons do we need?'
As she bustled by him, Angel glared down at Finnigan, struggling to keep his eyes brown. 'Swords would be best, I think,' he called after Kayla. The Watcher coolly met his eyes, unconcerned about any reprisals for obstructing him.
Angel was still steaming when they made it back to the area where he'd spotted the demons. Ahead of them, he saw a yellow schoolbus making its careful way along the street, dropping children off at the end of the day. His irritation disappeared into a sick feeling in his stomach, based on nothing more than the Krantznitz's voracious reputation.
'Kayla,' he said, his voice urgent as he slewed the car close to the curb, 'do you have your cell phone?'
'Sure.'
'Go ahead and call our team at the rescue squad.'
She followed his gaze, still lingering on the diminishing yellow shape of the bus. 'Let's go,' Kayla said, grabbing her sword even as she pulled her cell phone from her coat pocket.
Both of them could sense the demons' location, but it wasn't necessary. Terrified wails led them to an upper room in the abandoned building where two children had run as far as they could before being trapped. A girl, maybe eight years old, was standing in front of her little brother, arms out, warding the monster away despite her own terror. One of the Krantznitz was looming over her.
'Leave them alone,' Kayla said. It turned toward her, and she smiled, a tiny expression. Then she drove her sword back into the torso of the second one who had tried to flank them.
Angel sprang forward, snarling, and beheaded the one near the children with one mighty slice of his blade. He kicked the body backwards, away from the children, and plunged the sword into its midsection, just to be sure.
Kayla had finished with the other one. 'Just two?' she asked.
He nodded. 'It didn't get you with its spines?'
She shook her head and went directly to the children, sinking down on her knees. 'Well, that was scary, wasn't it?' she said brightly. 'But you were both very, very brave.' She was going to be a schoolteacher, Angel remembered. 'What's your name?'
'Keisha. This is my baby brother Kobe.' The little girl's chin was still quivering.
'Hi, Keisha, Kobe. My name is Kayla, and I am so proud of you.'
⸹
Spike and Giles sat across from Angel and Buffy at a table at Buffy's favorite coffee shop. He had picked her up after her test – the fight with the Krantznitz hadn't even made him late – and asked her to call the two Watchers. Angel felt a little disappointed that only Buffy was seething with anger after he finished his tale, though Giles' posture had become slightly stiffer. The Head of the Council exchanged a glance with the blond vampire, and both looked resigned.
'Angel, on behalf of the sane members of the Council, I apologize for the way you were treated.' Rupert looked pained, but he got it out.
'It isn't me I'm worried about. You knew this was going to happen?' Angel asked, hiding his hurt.
'Not this, but something along these general lines, yes.' Giles took a sip of his coffee.
'Politics,' Spike said brusquely, not waiting for the Watcher. 'The old guard is none too happy with our presence.'
'Unfortunately true,' Giles agreed.
'Giles, those children could have been killed!' Buffy glanced around at the other customers and lowered her voice. 'And not just them. Those demons stay hungry.'
'Yes,' he agreed, lifting his brows and looking into the distance, 'people could have been killed.' Giles exchanged a look with Spike again. 'Foolish, really, for the faction to show their hand in this manner.'
'Yeah, especially since we'll have the report from the Watcher embedded in the EMS and video from the psychologist who'll debrief those children.'
Ripper looked out from Giles' eyes for a moment. 'It means that I'll be able to simply sack Finnigan instead of sending him back to the UK. It will be uncomfortable and ugly, but f I play it right, I'll be able to identify his allies.'
Angel's jaw was set at a dangerous angle. 'None of this is going to make those children's nightmares go away.' He glanced down at Buffy, wanting to share his anger.
Buffy's eyes were fixed on Spike, though. 'You put up with that kind of crap all the time.' There was a tone of discovery in her voice.
He shrugged, uncomfortable beneath her regard. 'Not from all of them. My slayers make up for it.' Not looking at her, he didn't see her expression darken at his statement.
'You know what the CoW is like, Buffy,' Giles said. He sighed and frowned at his half-empty cup. 'The prejudices, the worldview, even… I am deeply ashamed to be Head of the Council while these elements are still very much a part of the organization. While it doesn't seem this way in Cleveland, we're stretched so thin, it will be years before we can afford to simply fire people and root out the willful intolerance.'
'You never will,' Spike said. He stared moodily into his own espresso. 'Not really a need for it. Only me an' Peaches, yeah? Not like they'll have to learn to cooperate with demons.'
'It's not just you,' Buffy disagreed. 'What about Clem?' She turned to Angel. 'Or Lorne?' She shook her head. 'I don't find it hard to distinguish between demons who are evil and those who know how to live with humans.' Her eyes flickered to Spike for a moment. 'And if I can learn that, surely your overeducated Watchers can.'
'Some of them, obviously, cannot.' Giles drained his cup. 'It'll work out nicely, though. Which slayer does Finnigan have?'
'Isidra,' Spike replied promptly.
'I'll give her to Vashti's Watcher, then, Alpana.'
'Don't give up on Vashti.'
'You're being an optimist, William. You sure you're feeling well?' Spike made an annoyed face, and Giles smiled in a self-satisfied way. The expression faded and he visibly steeled himself as he switched focus to Angel. 'Which still leaves us one Watcher down.'
The dark-haired vampire raised his brows, surprised, but his answer was immediate. 'No.'
Spike leaned back in his chair, putting his arms behind his head, and regarded the other Aurelian. 'Why not?' he challenged.
Giles toyed with his cup, 'Yes. What are your reasons for not joining the Council?'
Angel sighed. 'Look, thanks for the offer, but no thanks.'
'Too good for us, mate?' His eyes were narrow.
'No, it isn't that.' Angel put his elbows on the table and hunched forward. 'I just don't want to be tied down, that's all.' Realizing what he had said, he shot a swift look at Buffy. 'I mean, not to a job. Not after Wolfram and Hart.'
Looking unhappy, the Slayer nevertheless stepped up. 'I-it isn't like he needs the money,' she told Giles. 'We're doing okay.'
'Perhaps it's what the Council needs rather than what Angel needs,' Giles retorted. 'Maybe I am asking, just a bit, because I would enjoy rubbing your hire in the faces of Watchers like Finnigan. But it's also because we need you here in Cleveland. You already patrol and fight with us. You ought to get the benefits as well as the risks.'
'What about another contract?' Angel countered.
'Bloody hell.' Spike put his own elbows on the table, looking disgusted.
Giles looked at his fellow Watcher. 'You could just order him to accept.'
'I could,' Spike agreed as he shot Angel a look. His voice and his eyebrows were lower than usual.
'Order him?' Buffy echoed. 'What do you mean, order him?'
'Spike is the Master of the Order of Aurelius,' Giles said, surprise in his voice. Since Angel was still alive, surely she must… He looked at Angel, then Spike, and let out a sigh. They were both protecting her. Of course.
There was a half-smile on the Slayer's face as she turned her own gaze from Angel to Spike. 'So, you can just tell him to do whatever you want?' Angel had told her that Spike had beaten him in a fight after he'd stopped being a ghost, but nothing about taking orders.
'Yes,' he replied shortly.
She glanced back at Angel, sitting in stolid silence next to her, his eyes on the section of table between his chest and his clasped hands. 'And you'd just… do it,' she added, a measure of sarcasm in her voice.
'Not necessarily,' Angel replied.
Giles, having pushed Buffy to stand on her own two feet before, shook his head. 'The consequence of refusing a direct order is, however, death.' Spike glared from beside him, and Angel heaved his chest in an unproductive sigh across the table, but the Watcher gazed fixedly at Buffy, waiting for her to see the implications.
She got it right away, her lips parting as she looked from Spike to Angel, then back to the bowed blond head. He could have simply told Angel to break up with her, or to get out of Cleveland and never see her again, or any variation, could have told Angel to leave the playing field open for him. She would turn to him by default, and they both knew it.
Spike wanted her; that had been a constant – and even a comfort – for years. But he wanted something more, and she had never fully understood it until now. Spike wanted her to choose him.
He was leaving the decision entirely to her.
Buffy's eyes widened, and she closed her mouth, firming her lower lip so that it didn't tremble. She felt as if she had walked around the corner and looked directly into a mirror, seen herself unguarded, no makeup, naked. What she saw shamed her. She was too scared to try for happiness, too weak to make a move, while Spike, the very definition of undisciplined, refused to use any indirect means to get what he wanted. For him, love was no different than the field of combat, not worth winning unless it was done with honor.
Since she couldn't look at either of her lovers, she looked at Giles, willing herself not to cry. Giles gave her a small smile, full of steadfast love as well as the expectation that she was strong enough to meet any challenge. She nodded curtly at him, having no idea what she really meant by it, if anything.
He took it as a declaration, though, nodding back, and turned his head slightly as he changed the subject. 'Ah, then. As interesting as vampire hierarchies are, I would encourage you to wait to give me a firm answer for a few days, Angel.'
The dark-haired vampire shrugged. 'I won't change my mind.'
Spike looked up from the table, letting out an impatient breath. 'No, he doesn't do that.'
Angel looked affronted. 'Oh, like I'm the stubborn one.'
'Ladies,' Rupert said pleasantly, 'you're both stubborn, and let's leave it there.' He caught Buffy's grateful look. 'In any case, I think I'll call that meeting for tomorrow. We should have the debriefing by–' Spike's phone rang, interrupting him, and he glared at the blond man.
'Sorry.'
'Pretty Woman?' Giles asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow.
Spike shrugged. 'Ringtone for my slayers.' Guilt settled on his expressive features as he saw who was calling, and he shot a look at Buffy before mumbling, 'Scuse me.' Twisting in his seat, he answered the call with a quiet, 'Lo?'
'Hey, Spike. It's Maria.'
'Course it is, pet. What can I do for you?'
She gave a sultry laugh. 'You shouldn't ask open-ended questions like that.' Maria's voice became brisk. 'I was calling because I got Vi to take your late patrol on Friday. Is that all right?'
Spike closed his eyes. That was one of the reasons he had said yes to the date; he had a firm reason to end it at a reasonable hour. Maria's call confirmed two things for him: that Vi had given her tacit approval for him to see Maria and that he was doomed to be outmaneuvered by women for his entire existence. 'Uh, sure.'
'Good.' Her voice dropped to a confidential register. 'That means we don't have to be in a hurry.'
'Always a good thing. Listen, pet, Giles is glaring daggers at me….'
'I'll let you go, then. See you at training, Spike.'
'See you tonight,' he agreed, saying his goodbyes and folding the phone before turning back to the table. Angel had heard everything, of course, and Buffy probably had as well. 'You don't have a problem patrolling with Vi on Friday, do you, Peaches?'
'No. Vi's fine.' Angel looked amused. 'And what will you be doing on Friday?'
He looked at the table, not wanting to see Buffy's reaction. 'Going to the pictures with Maria.' Hurt and anger rolled off the Slayer, quickly suppressed because of Angel, and Spike registered unhappy surprise from Giles.
'This is… abrupt,' Giles said.
'She asked,' Spike said, unable to keep his eyes from darting to the Slayer, 'and I got nothing better to do.'
'Sounds like fun,' Angel said mildly. 'Glad to see you enjoying yourself, boy.'
The blond man closed his eyes for a second, grateful for his family. Angel was the only one who responded normally to the news of a social engagement (it was nothing more than that), who was glad for him. 'Thanks.'
'Er, yes,' Giles agreed faintly. His first thought had been, oh, please, not another slayer. 'About the meeting tomorrow….'
Spike stood abruptly, grabbing his coat from the back of the chair. One of the nice things about being a vampire was that you didn't have to be polite, could just cut out when you felt like it. Spike was more than ready to leave. 'Just let me know when and where, Rupes.' He nodded at the couple across the table. 'See you there.'
⸹
'That was brutal,' Dawn said, heading straight for the couch. 'We deserve to eat pizza and watch Return of the King for the rest of the afternoon. The extended version.'
'You are a goddess,' Xander said, going down on one knee by the couch and catching Dawn's hand so he could press it against his forehead. 'Who else would know how to restore my soul after that meeting?'
Spike closed the door and waved his hand in the air sardonically. 'Uh, me? Pretty much got the whole restore-the-soul thing down.'
Xander let go of Dawn's hand and threw himself on the couch next to her. 'Somehow, I find I prefer Dawnie. Or Willow. Willow is good, too.'
Spike tossed his coat onto the rack by the door and regarded the humans for a moment, hands on his hips. 'Take it I'm buying the pizza?'
'He's smarter than he looks,' Dawn said. Xander nodded in agreement. 'No Canadian bacon, and get breadsticks, too.'
'Yes, mum,' Spike said humbly, heading toward the kitchen for the list of numbers for nearby order-out restaurants posted on the fridge.
'Weird how you can work with someone for half a year and never know how narrow-minded and nasty they really are,' Xander mused.
'Yeah,' Dawn agreed. 'Or how many dirty words they know.' Finnigan hadn't taken being fired in a calm way. 'Do you really think Giles can get him on a CIA watch list so he isn't allowed back into the States?'
'Yes. I absolutely believe Giles can do that. I also believe he could close Finnigan's mouth for him, both with his fists and in some permanent way.' Rupert had taken strong exception to the man's language, but Xander was certain that it was his slander of Buffy that really made Giles furious. Disliking even souled vampires enough to jeopardize civilians was one thing, but attacking Buffy for her love life was out of bounds and nearly the first thing Finnigan had brought up. 'And to completely change the subject to something that doesn't make me feel like I need a bath, where's Tribby?' Xander looked over his shoulder, half-expecting to see the slayer come into the living room, lured by the promised pizza.
'Taking down her exhibit. The month is up. Then she's going to a party some of the MFA students are having.'
'A party on a Wednesday?'
Dawn shrugged. 'They want to have it before finals week is over and everyone leaves town. I'd go myself, but I have one last test tomorrow.'
'Are you sure you have time to watch Lord of the Rings?'
She smiled at his concern. 'I have time, but more importantly, I have a serious need to indulge in Aragorn lust.'
'Aragorn,' Xander said pointedly as Spike came back into the room. 'Human. Dark-haired. None of this blond elf nonsense.'
'Aragorn the unwashed,' the blond man mused, dropping down on the couch on Xander's other side, his knees a mile apart. 'No accounting for taste.' The two humans were soon engrossed in Middle Earth, but Spike couldn't settle his mind. The Watchers' meeting had been ugly, and he was glad to spend the afternoon with his Bit and the whelp. A good deal of resentment had been directed at him. Some of it was from Watchers he respected, good people who did a good job, and that was disheartening. Not only could he not help being what he was, he was proud of it.
After the movie, Dawn opened her bookbag, so he headed to the gym with Xander, ready to take out his frustrations on the slayers. Like so many of his plans, it didn't work out. Maria was cheerful and chatty to the point where he had to ask her to focus twice, and he stored this trainer-slayer problem away for the inevitable 'we aren't going to work' conversation. In contrast, Buffy was silent, refusing to look at him, and his heart ached to see her so unhappy.
At the end of class, he headed her off as she tried to be the first out the door. 'Buffy,' he said, the power of just saying her name making him close his eyes for a moment, 'about the meeting today, what Finnigan said… I'm sorry you had to hear that.'
She shrugged. 'That's what people think, isn't it? Can't change their minds.'
'No, but we can rip them out,' he muttered. 'Finnigan's lucky I got the soul to brake me, keep me from my impulses.'
'Why should you care?' Before he could answer, she added in a malicious tone, 'Maybe I should warn Maria about her reputation.'
His anger was sudden, hot. 'Not doing anything for her reputation to be sullied, Slayer. She voluntarily wants to spend time with me. I find that refreshing.'
'You can spend–' She stopped, twisting her head to the side as she remembered what meaning that word had for him. 'You know what? Never mind.' He watched her walk away from him, thinking sourly that she'd lived with Angel long enough for his habits to start rubbing off on her.
While he wasn't scheduled for patrol, Spike had a serious need for movement and, with any luck, combat. Turning down Xander's offer of a ride home, he headed into the night, taking a curving route through University Circle on his way back to the apartment. It was cold and clear, the remnants of the last snowfall crunching under his sure step. Spike didn't want to think, so he tracked down every scent, every sense of demon, no matter how slight.
There was nothing in Cleveland's darkness to challenge him. Spike was reduced to jerking open a car door and serving as coitus interruptus for the couple inside. He yanked the hapless young man off the vampire, giving him a withering look. 'Don't you know better than to have sex with something you just met?' he asked, continuing the conversation as he waited for the vampire inside the Civic to adjust her skirt. 'You could die, you know, and not of some virus.' Snarling, she shifted to vamp face and sprang out of the passenger door toward him, conveniently impaling herself on the waiting stake. Spike shook his head in disgust. 'Bloody fledge.'
His soul took him to task for being so unfeeling, and he got the lad zipped up and on his way with a few grudging words of comfort and the strong suggestion that he'd probably had too many beers to really remember what happened. Apparently they had been in the dusted vampire's car, and he was debating if it was worth selling it to a chop shop when he remembered it had likely belonged to one of her victims. Swearing at his soul, he called in the car as abandoned and went on, finding two more vampires prowling for students distracted by exam week.
As he left campus and walked through the thin fringe of bars, tanning salons, and other businesses that cater to college students, he picked up the faint sense of an aura, growing stronger as he turned toward the west. Spike began to get a little excited; a demon with an aura this strong might have something to do with the attack on the gym. At the very least, it would be a worthwhile fight.
His senses led him to a club set between a very large parking lot and a municipal storage facility, allowing the noise level to be a little higher than at some other campus bars. Spike did a turn through it about once a week, and the bouncer waved him through with a cheery, 'Merry Christmas, Spike.' Inside, the thing's aura resonated in him like a gong. All he had to do was isolate the source of the frenzied energy, get it out in the parking lot, and unleash hell on earth. He zeroed in on a room just off the main bar.
'Private party – Oh, hey, Spike,' the bouncer at the door of the roped-off room said, stepping back. 'How's it goin'?'
'Fine, I can keep the bloody Christmas carols from gettin' stuck in my head. Good to see you, Rojas.' A big guy who was sharper than people expected, the bouncer had gotten fired from another club after helping Xander and Nguise expel a pair of big-spending vamps. 'Really good to see you gainfully employed again.'
'Yeah, it's not bad.' His dark eyes sharpened. 'Something up?' Keenly interested in the fact that there was a supernatural underworld, Manny Rojas had volunteered his services to the Council. Spike had been too taken aback to do more than promise he'd call at some vague future time.
'Dunno.' He shrugged. 'Something feels off; thought I'd check it out.'
Rojas leaned down, his massive shoulders blocking most of Spike's view. 'There's drugs in there, man.' He shrugged. 'What can you do? Only, I don't really want the boys in blue to have to come in. Just got this job.'
Spike gave him a small smile, glad for the easy opening. 'Right. I'll take it outside, then, there's a problem.'
'Preciate it.' Rojas stood aside again. 'Hey, Merry Christmas, Spike.'
'Happy Christmas to you, too.' He clapped the human on one ham-sized bicep as he went into the private room, the aura of the being within a call to battle. Spike kept his own tamped down as he surveyed the room.
There. Whatever it was, it was masquerading as a human female, poured into tan suede pants and a fringed leather halter top. Most demons kept an association with what they actually were, no matter how they manifested, and he saw that the skin was brown and the last couple inches of long, dark hair was tipped with gold. Egyptian, he thought, calling to mind the kinds of demons who could pass as human from that area.
Spike approached from behind and to the left of where the demon was speaking with a tall girl with festive green hair. The human spotted him and waved, and he realized with a nasty shock that he knew her. She was an art student, had been at Ute's going-away party, her hair purple then. Smiling, she touched the demon's arm and pointed to him. Oh, bloody hell, he thought, so much for the element of surprise. The demon turned, and he found himself staring down at his roommate.
'Spike!' Tribby said, smiling, pleased to see him.
What the hell? he thought, and then he examined her more closely. Her pupils were dilated, and there was a slight chemical tang to her usual scent. Whatever she was on, it was playing havoc with her slayer's aura, making it, like Dana's, into something unrecognizable.
The thwarted possibility of a good fight fed his anger. 'Tribby,' he said, his voice overly smooth, 'I hardly recognized you.'
'She looks great, doesn't she?' the green-haired woman beamed. 'I've been trying for months to get her to dress like an art student is supposed to. Ooh,' she added, looking down at her watch, 'I've got to drive Phyllis home.' She made a face. 'Designated driver. Good to see you, Spike.'
'You, too,' he said, still glaring at Tribby. She looked as alert as a collie, but she didn't pick up on his mood.
'Bye, Jill. What are you doing here, Spike?' She rested her hand on his forearm, stepping closer so she wouldn't have to shout over the music.
'Felt your aura,' he said shortly, 'and thought you were–'
'Tribby!' a tall man interrupted, and Spike turned his glare on Ty's boyfriend, Greg. 'Ready to go?' His eyes roamed over the blond vampire, body first, meeting Spike's eyes last.
The slayer's aura pulsed, and Spike could hardly believe it didn't knock the human over, it was so strong. Tribby moved between the two men, an obvious protective gesture. 'Not yet.' The two exchanged tight, fake smiles for a moment, then Tribby turned to Spike without quite looking away from Greg. 'Come on, let's dance. No, you have to. Roommate obligation.'
Spike thought it was just a ploy to leave, but she led him onto the dance floor, turning to grab his right hand, and began to dance, somewhat more to her own beat than the techno blasting through the club speakers.
He didn't move. 'Tribs, what are you on?'
'Happy stuff,' she shrugged. 'Come on, dance with me before it wears off.'
'Why?'
Looking slightly exasperated, she stood on tiptoe to answer. 'I came here to get laid. I figure that after tonight I won't see these people again. So, why not?'
'Greg?'
'No! Yuck. I'd never do that to Ty.' She wrinkled her nose. 'I'd never do that, period.'
'You have to be high to get laid?'
Her expression was suddenly sharp, lucid, with a hard edge of grief. 'It helps.' Tribby shook it off, gave him her thousand-watt smile, and took his coat in her other hand.
Grudgingly, he shuffled his feet. 'What brought this on?'
She put his hand atop the one she had on his lapel. 'Feel that?' He didn't feel anything unusual, but she rambled on before he could answer. 'I'm retaining water, this thin layer of fluid under my skin, pressing on my nerves, making them so sensitive, making me feel every touch,' her eyes fluttered closed, 'exquisitely.' Then she was close to normal again. 'Plus, I've got hormones screaming at me that I've only got this egg for a couple more days, so I better get pregnant, quick.'
He stopped moving again. 'You want to get pregnant?'
She rolled her eyes. 'No. Laid!' She said it loudly as the beat changed to something more primal, and she began to dance in earnest, pulling him close and resting his hands on her hips.
Spike shook his head, recapping what she had said, trying to put it together. She was hormone-driven, horny, and off her face. She was here to find another student for a one night stand, for the precise reason that she wouldn't have to see the guy again. Everything clicked into place. Since it couldn't be Jack, who was off being inconveniently dead, it didn't matter who it was.
He could relate.
While he was deep in thought, the feel of her strong, rounded body beneath his hands bypassed his brain entirely, and Spike snapped back to the moment to find his hips moving to complement hers. He glanced around, relieved that his own motions were rather less sexual than most of the other dancers'. He looked down at Tribby, who had her eyes closed. 'Tribs,' he said tiredly, and she opened her eyes and smiled again. Instead of saying anything, she mimed getting a drink. Spike followed her as she headed toward the bar, relieved to get off the dance floor. She bought two longnecks from the bored attendant at the bar, then headed for an empty table near a wall, where it was marginally quieter.
'Pet, have you thought this through?' He sat the pallid American brew, untouched, on the table.
She took a drink, grimacing at the taste, then shrugged. 'Worked before.'
She hadn't been a wild child until after her husband died, he remembered, her own words from a patrol early on, and more things fell into place. The Sunday School teacher and wholesome Olympic champion were from a time before she was a widow. 'Oh, Tribby,' he said, sorrowful. It was at that moment that he knew he wouldn't keep his date with Maria, and Spike felt a weight lift.
'You know the sorority girl's mating call?' a malicious voice drawled. Spike and Tribby turned to find Greg behind them, an unhappy Ty trailing along in his wake. Greg grinned down at Tribby and answered his own question in a high-pitched, Valley-accented voice. 'I am so wasted!'
Tribby watched him laugh at his own joke and replied acidly. 'I wasn't in a sorority. Were you?'
'They'd take me before they would a grim little thing like you.'
She shrugged. 'Phi Beta Kappa took me.'
Ty lifted his eyebrows at the academic snottiness, then shook his head. 'Tribby, why are you even here?'
She nodded at Spike and answered truthfully, 'Because of him.'
'No. I mean, you've got to go back to med school.' Apparently Ty was having the typical reaction to finding that one's friend fought demons every night: he was trying to extract her from it.
'Never happen.' Tribby took another pull from the beer.
'Then get your doctorate in physical therapy. We'll open a practice together.'
'But first,' Greg said, taking the beer from her hand and smiling down at her in a predatory way, 'we're all going to my after-party.' He wiggled the bottle in the air and said meaningfully, 'I've got way better stuff than this.'
Spike studied him, puzzled. The human wanted Tribby in a way that wasn't sexual, or not entirely sexual. She'd been his friend first, hadn't she, until she found out how he treated Ty? Now she was vulnerable, and Greg knew it. Spike had a feeling that the human didn't much care if he won her over again or paid her back for dropping him; he just wanted to be her focal point.
Greg sensed his examination and looked at him, again doing the automatic cataloging to see whether Spike was worthy of his regard. The blond man scanned him in return. Greg could be charming; he'd seen as much when Ute was still in town, and the human was attractive in a country-club, sweater-over-shoulders kind of way, but he still couldn't see the appeal. Spike gave him a shark's smile, one that would send most people hurrying off to the other side of the room.
Greg just smiled back, considering himself to be the more dangerous predator. 'Bring your friend. Spike, isn't it? I wouldn't mind getting to know you.'
As the pup's eyes roved over his body again and before he could get anything out or do much more than register the hurt on Ty's face, Tribby moved between them once more. Her aura surged out in all directions, and she showed her teeth to her former friend. 'You'll never get your hands on this one,' she said, her tone making it a vow. 'Have a good party.' Then she did the absolute meanest thing one could do to someone like Greg; she turned away dismissively. 'Ty, call me this weekend.' Tribby put her hand on Spike's arm for a second. 'I like this song. Let's go.'
Spike waited until she had gone a couple of steps toward the dance floor, then leaned in to confide in Greg, 'She totally dominates in bed, too.' He put his tongue momentarily against his teeth, pleased to get off a rare believable lie. Turning to follow the slayer, he caught the brief flash of fury in the human's eyes.
'Greg is a sociopath,' he said flatly, anchoring her with one hand on her waist.
'I think you're right,' she agreed, lucid again. 'Narcisstic personality disorder, anyway.' Tribby shrugged. 'Forget him.'
He raised an eyebrow. 'You really like this song?'
'I don't even know this song.' As she spoke, it segued into Ginuwine's 'Pony.' 'This song, though,' she smiled up at him, hormones outpacing inhibitions, 'I do know.'
Like every other couple on the floor, their dance to the song was a facsimile of sex, hips grinding, Tribby's body arching toward him. He watched her as she got lost in the music, freed of habitual grief by whatever she had inhaled or ingested, strong body on display, inviting him along on her trip. It was affecting him more than all of Maria's carefully calculated moves, and after a brief hesitation, he put his other hand on her waist.
The deliberate beat of the music went on, and Tribby turned, her back to him, covering his hands with hers, hips swiveling. He didn't try to follow along exactly, letting her brush against him, then moving closer so their thighs were always in contact. Spike didn't let himself think, just held his breath, an unnecessary exercise. This wasn't Maria. She wanted to get laid, no complications.
As the song wound down, Tribby shifted in his arms, molding her body against his. He had his own effect on her, apparently. She lifted her face, and he realized he'd kissed her before, once in Boulder and once after the battle when he'd kissed all his slayers. How odd that he never really thought of her sexually. Before he could follow the thought, she pulled away.
'Come on.' Tribby slipped her hand into his without meeting his eyes. She led him through a door and a couple of winding hallways until they came to an emergency exit. Then they were in the narrow alley between the club and the warehouse. Spike looked around, coming out of his slayer-induced haze. An alley and a woman. And didn't that always end well?
Tribby pressed him against the brick of the nearest wall and kissed him again. She was good at it; not nearly as good as Angel, but he'd had centuries to practice. Tribby had been married for at least a few years, he supposed. Spike had a theory that you only really got good in bed by sleeping with one person a long time rather than with a lot of different people in one night stands. After all, if you had to constantly raise your game to satisfy someone habituated to you, you were bound to get to be pretty good.
Spike's attention came back to Tribby as she pulled away. He didn't know why he couldn't focus his mind; his body wasn't having any trouble keeping up. The slayer's deft hands were at his belt, were unbuttoning his jeans. He put his own over them, trapping them. 'Here?' She was bare-armed and the temperature was hovering in the twenties. In answer, she knelt before him. Spike's brows drew together, and he hauled her back to her feet. He saw her eyes then, still dilated but much more aware of what was happening than he seemed to be.
Tribby gave him a miserable smile. 'That was my exit strategy.'
'Look around, pet. There're exits everywhere, and the best one isn't on your knees in an alley.'
Her voice was even. 'I can't just leave. That wouldn't be fair to you.'
'Then let's go someplace we can be fair to each other.'
Beneath his hands, her shoulders slumped. 'I can't.' Tribby moved away then, stopping when she was at the edge of the building, looking small and shivering in her halter top. She spun suddenly, her booted foot kicking two loose bricks from the corner. They shattered harmlessly, bam! bam! against the opposite wall. Neither of them flinched at the violence. Tribby stood upright again and shrugged. 'I'm strong enough to do that,' she said, her voice catching, 'but I'm not strong enough to sleep with someone I actually care about.'
'Tribs,' he said, sorrowful, his fleeting desire gone, and went to pull her into a hug, dropping a kiss atop her head. 'Come on, pet. Let's get you home.'
Her car was in the parking lot, with her coat and purse stashed in the trunk. Spike took the wheel, hitting the Starbucks drive-through for espressos along the way. He waited until the slayer stopped shivering, her hands wrapped around the cup, before he spoke. 'So, you've done that before.'
A bitter smile curved her mouth. 'Twice.' Tribby shrugged. 'Once at the Telluride Film Festival, once in Boise. Young, geeky guys I figured didn't have much sexual experience. Easy prey for an older woman.'
He glanced over at the sarcasm in her voice. 'Pet, you can pretty much have any man you set your sights on.'
She snorted. 'Because I so want to turn into my mother.'
Spike left that one alone. 'No one but your husband until then?'
'No.' Tribby took a sip of coffee and lowered her eyes. 'I love sex. It's always been good.' Her mouth curved beneath the lowered lashes. 'Our first time was after junior prom. Jack had this camper on the back of his truck, and we were in there till sunrise before…' Her voice trailed off, and this smile was warm and rich with memory. 'He borrowed that from the Plains tribes, where newlyweds are supposed to fool around all night but not consummate the marriage until the sun comes up.' Tribby sent him an apologetic look. 'Sorry. TMI.'
'S'okay, pet.' His first time had been moments after he burst the confines of his coffin and burrowed his way to the surface, his back on the loose soil as Dru rode him, exultant. He remembered worrying that the dirt under his nails and the blood on his shredded hands would stain her gown.
'I just miss it, is all.'
'I can see why. Was Jack Cherokee, too?'
'And Scots-Irish.'
'You don't talk about him much.'
'No one wants to hear it.' Tribby brought the cup to her mouth but didn't drink. 'I'm supposed to be moving on.' She did take a sip then, as if for courage, because she added, 'You know how it is.'
'I do,' he agreed.
'It gets lonely, though.'
'It does.'
The silence stretched out comfortably until Spike pulled up to the curb beside the apartment building. When Tribby didn't make any move to get out, he waited, expectant. She was struggling with something.
'At the end,' Tribby said finally, 'the cancer spread. It got in his brain, it,' she licked her lips, staring out of the windshield, 'made him mean. He said… He accused me of cheating on him, of all kinds of things. It wasn't just me,' she added. 'He said his parents beat him, that the nurses molested him, just anything to be hurtful, it seemed. Everyone said, oh, this happens sometimes, but I could see the speculation in their eyes, that maybe I did sleep around, maybe I was a slut. Then the cancer got to his speech centers, and he didn't say anything at all.'
Spike could smell her tears, but he stayed where he was, letting her finish. After a moment, she went on, her voice nasal. 'I know this is an issue, baggage. But even though I know it logically, my heart can't escape the things he said. He was my everything.' She drew a shaky breath. 'Maybe I'm trying to live down to it.'
'Maybe it's just like you said, it's easier when your heart's not involved,' he countered.
'Thanks,' she managed. Tribby took one hand off the coffee and wiped her cheeks.
'I don't think she's going to come to me,' Spike blurted, his hands clenching on the steering wheel. God, where had that come from? But once he said it, the words hung there, and he buried them beneath others. 'Something changed, something that she thought was a barrier between us. It's gone now, has been for 'most a month, and she still hasn't come to me. She's so strong, Tribs, so strong, and if she doesn't come, I can't help but think it's not just that she doesn't want me more than Angel, it's that she doesn't want me at all.
'He doesn't love her, either, not like I do. 'M not just sayin' it; it's true. He–' Spike stopped abruptly, met her sympathetic gaze. She'd laid her own ugly pain bare for him. 'He invited me into their bed, Tribs.' Spike was breathing now, couldn't help it. 'Not unusual for vampires, but I could never share her. If he loved her, really loved her, how could he even consider it?' Spike felt the steering wheel creak under his hands, and he made himself let go, fingers splaying out as if to brace himself against the emptiness. 'I love Angel, too; he's family, but….'
If Tribby was shocked, she didn't show it. She caught his hand where he held it in midair, and he remembered how well she'd learned Dawn's lessons about a vampire's need for touch. 'She's in love with you, Spike. We can all see it, the way she watches you, the way she glares at Ivana and Maria. But it isn't… I'm sorry, Spike. Things won't be the same if she comes to you now, will it?'
'No.' It was his turn to stare out of the window, his eyes wide. He'd never let himself articulate it before, but she was right. After learning that she could be with him without the constant fear she would hurt him, every day that Buffy stayed with Angel lowered her just a little bit in his estimation.
'Will it still be good enough?'
'God, yes.' He'd given up on having anything pure and shining long ago. What was a little tarnish on his golden goddess?
'Then your heart is going to wait just as long as it takes,' she said, 'and to hell with what anyone else thinks.'
Spike smiled at her, feeling lighter. He hadn't been able to share that with Dawn, so it had been festering. He took his venti espresso from the cupholder and regarded it for a moment, then sighed. 'Ready to go up?'
She nodded, then met his eyes. 'Are we good? I mean, we don't have to be all awkward about things?'
'We're good.' Before she could pull her hand away, he added, 'The good part was here, pet, not at the club.' He squeezed her fingers and let go, two damaged people doing what came naturally. Spike finished his untouched coffee on the way up, most of it on the second landing when Mrs. Hanley caught them and had to hear an explanation of Tribby's outfit. They escaped when the slayer lied and said she'd been to a costume party, finally making it up to the fourth floor. Dawn opened the door when she heard the key scraping in the lock, expecting them from Mrs. Petrowsky's phone call, excited and happy.
'Hey, you two. Clem's back!'
![Moody Moody](/uploads/1/2/4/7/124714215/612067710.jpg)
⸹
'No,' Xander moaned. He put his head in his hands, not feeling as though he was being melodramatic at all. 'A mall? Two weeks before Christmas?'
Just down the table from him, Joel Muse was looking just as stunned. 'Less.' The lieutenant shook his head. 'This isn't a company we can evacuate from their building with some trumped-up story. The mall stores won't close; they depend on December sales to stay in business the rest of the year. And there are,' he calculated quickly, 'at least eight roads that lead there, eight major roads. The whole CPD doesn't have the manpower to keep shoppers away, much less the small group of us in the know.'
Giles sighed, looking down the length of the table, wondering why conference rooms were always rectangular. People were squished together around the table and sitting in chairs all along the wall. It was a bad design, he thought. 'We've done the locator spell three times. There's no mistake. The energy is coming from the mall.'
'Well, we'll just have to do things differently,' Willow said by way of encouragement. 'As long as we have blueprints, we don't have to be in there the whole time to plan strategy.' She was thinking as she spoke, coming up with and discarding ideas. 'The slayers can case the mall by going undercover as shoppers–'
'Not a stretch,' Buffy said, grinning. She was feeling cheerful. It had nothing to do with the fact that Giles had ordered the Watchers to cancel all their other plans.
'–and since I'll be here for this battle, the Watchers don't have to set up barriers beforehand.'
'You're right, my dear,' Giles said, giving her a grateful look. He looked around the table at the faces, the good lieutenant's the most concerned.
'Crowd control,' he said, frowning. 'This one's all about crowd control. We can't let Christmas shoppers mingle with the demons. I mean, come on! They may be single-mindedly focused on this energy, but if they'll fight each other, they'll attack any nearby human.'
'He's right,' Angel said quietly. 'If we figure out how to keep the Christmas shoppers safe, everything else will be easy.'
Giles flashed a look at him. The big vampire hadn't given him a 'yes' yet, but he hadn't pushed. Next to Angel, Buffy was staring at the polished tabletop, her frown deeper than Muse's. 'Well, let's think on it. We'll meet back here tomorrow at nine. We should have the mall layout by then. In the meantime, Spike, will you organize the slayers into recon units?'
'Yeah, that'll be hard to do,' he mumbled sarcastically.
'Are you kidding, Giles?' Buffy said, snapping back to the moment. 'Slayer duties combined with Christmas shopping? You're definitely Santa Claus this year.'
He smiled back at her, so glad to see some of her old sparkle. 'Yes, well, be that as it may, it's the reconnaissance that's the important part.'
⸹
Spike made a point of teaming up with Maria for his mall crawl. The coming battle had given him a too-easy way out of their date; Giles had asked the Watchers to focus on the coming battle, and everyone had patrol because of the influx of demons. They stopped at the edge of the food court after getting a couple of tacos, unable to find an empty table in the atrium of the crowded mall.
Maria was shaking her head, thinking of the empty office buildings they had the run of for past battles. 'How on earth is this going to work?' she asked.
'Willow will figure something out,' Spike said, shrugging. 'Planning's not my strong suit, I'm told.'
'Mine either,' Maria said, taking a bite and swallowing before she went on. 'Any ideas when this is going to go down?'
'Tuesday, maybe, based on the last few battles.' It was Friday now.
They would be sitting in a movie theater if things had worked out. Maria examined him, the way his blue eyes scanned the crowd, his head slightly lowered, his weight centered so he would be ready to lash out in any direction. She shook her head, wondering what he was like when he wasn't on point. 'Do you ever have any downtime?'
He looked at her. Maria's tone was nothing more than curious. She'd claimed a raincheck for their date, but hadn't been upset. 'Downtime?' He thought of cuddling on the couch with his Bit, the deep sense of peace they both had when they were together. Internal talks with Willow, billiards with Xander, sitting quietly at a table with Giles, piles of open books around them. He remembered patrolling the active Sunnydale cemeteries with Buffy, long hours of quiet or conversation between bursts of violence. A lot of his peace was associated with that destroyed town, and except for Dawn, he hadn't managed to recreate many of those moments in Cleveland.
'Not much,' he admitted.
She heard the surprise in his voice. 'Maybe you should make it a priority.'
'Hard to do when the world is depending on you.'
'Is that how you feel?' She sounded surprised now.
'You don't?' He stared at her, her clear dark eyes, the carefree set of her shoulders days before a major battle. She'd never been Chosen. 'No, you don't, do you? Good for you, pet.'
Maria tossed the rest of her taco at a nearby trash can, then pumped her fist when it went in neatly. 'What do you do for fun, Spike?' she asked as they began to walk away.
He'd asked the same question of Tribby once, trying to find things that might make Buffy smile again. Giving her an honest answer, he watched resignation settle on Maria's face. 'Spend time with Dawn. Train you lot. And – not often enough – get Buffy to smile.'
After a moment, her expression hardened. 'Does it even matter to you that she's shacked up with another man?'
'No.'
She looked away. 'You'll always love her.'
'Yes.'
There was no hesitation in his answer. Maria took a breath. 'I'd like to make you happy, Spike. Is that even… Could I?'
'Yes. 'M not hard to please, love. But I was a man of honor, once. Won't lie to you,' he stopped, pulling her out of the path of a frazzled woman pushing a stroller and into an alcove with an ATM. 'Can't see a time when it won't be about Buffy.' When she started to shake her head, he plowed on. 'I was with Drusilla for a hundred and twenty years, Maria. I know my own heart.'
Her dark eyes snapped, and she opened her mouth. Then she just shook her head and began walking again. 'So,' Maria took a deep breath, 'what kinds of things are we supposed to be looking for?'
'Glass that could shatter, be a hazard,' he said, so proud of her. 'Loose wiring, camping equipment or such with propane, things that could be used to set fires.' He took her fingers in his for a moment and gave them a quick squeeze. 'For our side, natural defenses, shops that have a dais for a better view.'
They went through the mall, Maria becoming less stilted as the hours wore on. She spotted one vampire in a Santa hat, which they took care of in the less-crowded hosiery section of JC Penney, leaving a visible scatter of dark gray ash on the tile. Maria snarked, 'Cleanup on aisle five,' making him laugh. They did a turn around one side of the big building as they headed to Spike's truck. Even as late as it was, the parking lot was full of cars, more prowling the lanes looking for an empty space. The slayer shook her head. 'How are we going to keep the customers out of this?'
'Dunno, me. The best minds on the Council are working on it, though.' He opened the passenger door for her, and a half a minute later, made an elderly man in a van very happy by vacating the parking space. Maria's apartment wasn't far away, and as he pulled in at the curb, she unbuckled her seatbelt and put her hand on his arm. Spike looked over at her, brows raised.
'Come in,' she offered, dropping her eyes after a moment. 'Bethany's on patrol. I could make you happy.'
Spike regarded her for a long moment, wondering what drug Tribby had been on the other night and where he could score some, then he turned off the truck. 'Maria,' he began, twisting so he could see her, 'you could. Been a demon so long, I could do that, hardly a twinge of my conscience. But I want better for you.'
She lifted a shoulder. 'From what I understand, it doesn't get much better.' When he blinked, taken aback, she suppressed a grin. 'Back in Sunnydale, I overheard Faith ask about a few things. Buffy warned her away.'
'Faith, huh?' He shook his head, thinking of what Xander had confided. 'Real maneater, that one, and not in a good way. If she wanted me, pet,' and she had, 'part of it was just because I was at hand, but the bigger part was because she wanted to take things away from Buffy.'
'That's not why I–'
'I know. But the answer is no, Maria. I can't give you what you deserve.'
She looked down at her hands, let out a sigh, and lifted her head. 'All right. I guess it's for the best and everything, but I have to tell you it still feels really shitty.'
'M sorry.'
Anger at his rejection bubbled up inside her, and though Maria was trying to be mature, it wasn't working. 'Yeah? Well, you will be sorry if you go on pining after Buffy Summers. You have to get over her, Spike.'
'No. I don't.'
She glared at him because his voice was so sure and calm, and her full lips pinched into a tight line. 'Then I feel really sorry for you.'
The slam of the door reverberated inside the cab. Spike stayed until the light in her apartment came on, then slowly drove away, too tired to violate traffic laws.
⸹
Back in the conference room at the Council offices the next morning, the Watchers, Muse, Willow, Buffy, and Angel pored over the floorplans. There were several areas where a few judiciously deployed slayers could hold an entire section, and Vishnaswamy came up with the brilliant idea of having a priest bless the water in the central fountain. Giles was in a more relaxed mood as they rolled up the blueprints and returned to their seats.
'All that leaves is a method of keeping patrons out of the stores. Any suggestions?' People glanced around at each other, and when no one spoke, began to study the grain of the wooden table. 'No one?'
'I have a plan,' Buffy said, her voice quiet. She tucked her hair behind her ear. Angel looked down at her bowed head, wondering why she seemed so nervous.
'Yes?' Giles prompted.
'I've actually put the plan into action. It's taken care of. Yesterday afternoon I contacted the Initiative. They'll come to Cleveland on Monday and stay until it's over. They'll send soldiers out with barriers and troop transports to block the roads. They say they'll handle the press, too, give out that it's a terrorist threat.'
'They?' Dawn asked in a sharp tone. 'They' being Riley?'
'Yes.' Buffy's voice was still quiet.
Angel's eyebrows went up, but otherwise the big vampire stayed perfectly still. He glanced over at Spike, whose lips had curled into a sneer. Xander and Willow were looking edgy, too.
'Are you sure about this, Buffy?' Willow asked.
The Slayer shrugged. 'Someone suggested yesterday that we call out the National Guard. Well, a few of the local Guard units are overseas, and this way we don't have to explain the nature of the threat to anyone who doesn't already know.'
Hank Moody Divorce With A Smile Guide
'No,' Giles said, looking pained, 'it's a good idea, Buffy. I wish you would have spoken to me before you made the call, though.'
'I wanted to make sure the Initiative would come before I mentioned it.' She looked up and gave him a tight smile before dropping her eyes again. 'They were willing.'
⸹
'Riley Fucking Finn,' Dawn said, a black scowl on her face as she and Spike walked through the door of their apartment.
'Dawn Michelle Summers,' Spike said, frowning at her, 'watch your language.'
She ignored him, tossing her coat at the rack. 'Do you suppose he'll bring his fancy new wife with him this time?'
'If she's still part of his unit,' Spike shrugged.
'Hey, guys. How'd it go?' Tribby came out of the kitchen, carrying two just-wrapped Christmas presents. She put them under the Christmas tree in the corner, a real tree that Dawn had chosen and Spike had carried up four flights of stairs, staining his hands with sap that didn't come off for several days.
'Feh.' Dawn kicked her shoes off and dropped onto the plush sofa, clutching a throw pillow to her chest.
'Oh? Well, I put an anorak on Clem and we went shopping. He really likes Target. Anyway,' Tribby said, sitting down next to Dawn and settling a strand of the girl's brown hair back in place, 'I'm done. I crossed the last names off my Christmas list.'
'Good for you,' Dawn said glumly.
'Ignore her,' Spike advised. 'Where is Clem, anyway?'
'Downstairs, visiting Mrs. Hanley. She's really taken a shine to him.'
'Ignore me?' Dawn protested. 'I'm not the one ignoring things, Mr. Denial.'
Spike sighed. 'I'm not ignoring things; I just don't give a rat's – I mean, I just don't care. Why should I? Not like I'll really do anything to the gormless–'
'Spike! We're talking about Riley!'
'Who?' Tribby asked, having looked back and forth between them through this volley.
'Riley Finn,' Dawn said in the same tone she might use for 'Nazi collaborator.'
'Who's Riley Finn?'
'Buffy's ex from college. Git works for the government. He's bringing in some troops for crowd control around the mall during the battle.'
Dawn snorted. 'No, Riley Finn is a member of the Initiative that captured you and put a 'bloody cattle prod' in your head, the jerk who arranged for hungry Grimslaw larvae to be in your home, and the bastard who cheated on my sister with vampire sluts.'
Spike sighed and shrugged out of his coat, dropping it on the floor and collapsing onto the other end of the couch. 'First, they were vampire whores, Bit. Sluts don't charge; you know that. Got to use your vulgar words properly. Second, he seemed plenty scared by the Grimslaws, too. Don't think he knew how bad those were there, for all that he fit me up and barged in on us. Third, he didn't personally put the chip in my head. Only time the wanker ever laid a hand on me was when he staked me.'
'He staked you!' Dawn's voice had the high-pitched, ear-splintering quality of her younger years for a moment. Then she snorted again. 'Must have done his usual competent job, since you're still here.'
Spike shook his head impatiently. 'He used a plastic stake. Looked real, though. Thought for sure I was a goner that time.' He stopped talking and stared curiously at Tribby. Her slayer's aura had given a sudden, bright pulse. The first time he'd felt that, she ended up dressed down the rest of the Cleveland slayers because someone had been in his bed.
'The last time we talked about him,' Dawn plowed on, distracting him, 'you at least were saying you were going to give the Great Hall Monitor a giant wedgie.'
Spike snickered. 'Yeah,' he grinned, 'might still do that.' Then he gave her a too-innocent look. 'I can't kill humans anymore. Shame, that.'
'Don't you dare use my words against me when I'm in a towering rage.'
'You are?' This was from Tribby, who had turned to look at Dawn. 'Here, sweetie, let me French braid your hair, and you can tell me all about it.'
'See? French-braiding my hair doesn't threaten her masculinity.'
Spike squinted. 'Insane troll logic,' he pointed out.
'So, what exactly is the Initiative?' Tribby asked, taking the comb Dawn pulled out of her purse and shifting so she was in the corner of the couch.
'Another great use of our tax dollars,' she replied, her voice scornful as she began the story of how the Initiative captured and experimented on demons. By the time she got to Spike's request for asylum with the Scoobies, he was unable to keep quiet and began to help tell the story. Dawn listened in silence along with the slayer as Spike told about learning that Riley was visiting vampire trulls, Riley's spiteful visit to his crypt after he informed Buffy, and how the hulking soldier ended up drinking with him.
By the time the story was finished, Tribby had taken Dawn's hair back down and was combing through it with long, soothing strokes. 'I have to say,' the slayer said slowly, 'he certainly sounds like a piece of work.'
Dawn made a face as she struggled with her conscience. 'He really had a lot of nice qualities,' she said, trying to be fair. 'I liked him okay before I found out what the Initiative had done to Spike, before he cheated on Buffy.' Her brow darkened again. 'Before he breezed back into Sunnydale for a night and flaunted his glamorous life in front of my broken sister.'
'That's enough, Bit,' Spike said impatiently.
'So, this Initiative,' Tribby said, beginning the braiding again, 'they aren't still experimenting on demons?'
'No – at least, that we know of. They're supposed to be fighting demons in friendly countries in South America.'
'Like government-funded slayers, except now there are slayers everywhere to do that. Seems like we would have put them out of business.'
Spike's eyes narrowed. 'Yeah, the glut of slayers would tend to make them redundant.' He lapsed into silence, remembering what he once said to Giles about a business' main mission being its continuing existence, his mind making lightning-fast connections. 'Nough of this lounging about,' he said, standing abruptly and grabbing up his coat. 'Got places to go, demons to kill.' Moving smoothly, he bent and kissed Dawn's cheek, then tapped Tribby's nose. 'See you ladies tonight.' Spike stopped and pivoted on his heel. 'No, you're housesitting, aren't you?'
'Yup.' Tribby was taking care of Ty's house and dog for a week while he took Greg skiing in Utah as a graduation present. 'But I'm sure I'll see you sometime tomorrow, with all that's going on.'
'If anyone doesn't deserve a rich, gorgeous lover, it's Greg,' Dawn complained.
'Hear, hear,' Spike agreed. As he loped down the stairs, he reached out to Willow, touching her mind, waiting impatiently for her to answer. Red?
What's up, Spike?
Wonder if you could meet me for lunch?
Sure. How about that German restaurant near my old apartment – I guess I should say, near Xander's. It's cold, and that puts me in the mood for potato soup.
German it is. See you there in, say, half an hour?
Willow was already waiting when Spike pulled up in his big truck. 'Lo, love,' he murmured, giving her the full-body hug he hadn't been able to that morning.
'Hey, Spike.' She squeezed him tightly, grinning.
'Glad to have you back in town.'
'Good to be here.'
'C'mon, pet. Let's get you out of the cold.'
'Yes, it's 'perishing,' Willow said, proudly using the Britishism. They sat down at a cozy table, and after the attractive waitress took their order, she blushed to realize that she and Spike had both been enjoying the woman's low-cut blouse. Then she grinned, shrugging.
Spike was in no hurry to ruin her good mood, so he nursed a cup of coffee and listened while she scooped up bites of thick potato soup and told him about her studies. Willow looked happy, her cheeks glowing from the cold, as she talked about her life at Oxford. After a while, though, she put her spoon in the bowl and asked kindly, with a tinge of worry, 'Is it Buffy?'
'What? No.' He gave her a sheepish grin. 'Not this time. Not my ex. Yours, actually.'
Willow frowned, and he knew her first thought, Tara. Then she asked, a little tension around her eyes, 'Kennedy?'
'Yeah. Listen, love, Sweet Bit and I were talking today about the Initiative–'
'Because of Riley?'
'Right. Since Soldier Boy was stationed down in South America, I just wondered if the slayers and his troops ever had occasions where their paths crossed.' His mouth compressed, then he simply held out his hands for her to take.
Experiments on slayers was the first worry she saw, his own nightmarish experiences feeding into fears of dissection and forced pregnancies and grotesque amalgams of slayer and demon and cybernetic enhancement. From his post-resurrection life, the worry that slayers would be placed in units and given free reign to kill the way Faith had, not just demons, but whoever their commanders pointed them at, nearly unstoppable soldiers without even the limited moral guidance the Council provided.
She pulled away from the horror-movie thoughts, pulled her hands away. 'Why would you think of Ken…?' Her voice trailed off. If the Initiative had enough savvy to court Kennedy, to make her feel important… Willow pushed her bowl away. 'I'm ready to leave,' she said quietly.
They sat in Spike's truck, and the blond man looked around, checking to see if anyone was noticing. Then he nodded, and Willow popped out of the silence of the cab. Spike sighed and turned on the heat so her return from the Southern hemisphere wouldn't be such a shock, then unscrewed a Thermos of blood he had left over from patrol the previous night.
Willow was back sooner than he would have thought. She sat in silence for a few moments, and without looking at him, asked, 'How did you know?'
He shrugged. 'Never trusted her. She wanted to be in charge without earning it. Figured she might be vulnerable to being recruited.' Spike waited until Willow took a breath and looked up at him. 'So, what was going on?'
'I-I didn't have to make any conversation,' the young witch said, shrugging. 'When I knocked on the door, she opened it wearing the same type gear Riley and Sam were wearing when they came back to Sunnydale.'
'Dead giveaway.'
Willow made a face. 'I compelled her to tell me. Not fair, but she… She wasn't glad to see me.'
'Felt guilty, maybe.'
'Wondered what she ever saw in me, maybe.'
Red. He gave her the image he had, the opinion he held of her.
Sorry. Self-esteem issues. 'Anyway, she's working for them, along with three other slayers, all from Brazil.'
'That she knows about.'
Willow nodded. 'That we know about. I'll ask the Coven to check to see if all the slayers are where they're supposed to be, that there's not a concentration of them anywhere except here.' She sighed. 'I can't blame those girls, Spike. I know them. Two of them live in the favelas. They talked about coming to Cleveland so they could get the salary, but they didn't want to leave their families at the mercy of the PCC.'
'Wonder if we could get the Council to revisit the issue of salaries, now that the Swiss accounts are free?' he mused. After Buffy's experiences as a single mother and the thin funds during the last weeks in Sunnydale, he didn't like to think of slayers going without.
'We can ask Giles.'
Spike nodded. 'Good idea to have the Coven check, just in case there're slayers being held somewhere against their will. The Initiative was big on the right hand not telling the left, as I remember. Kennedy might not have a clue. But let's hold off on telling Rupes until after the battle. He has enough to worry about.'
'Okay. I think I'll go home to Oz and tell him how grateful I am to have him. I mean, he might have given in to his werewolf nature once, but he has a clear idea who he is.'
'So… you have him?'
She waved a hand at his sly tone. 'Pretty much out in the open by now.'
'Glad to hear it.'
Willow looked away again. 'Anything with Buffy?'
'No. Angel and I are talking again, but haven't managed it with the Slayer.'
She nodded, still looking out at the weak December sunlight falling on the city. 'How's the new apartment?'
'S'okay. I miss seeing Rupes every day, the other slayers who lived at Watcher Central, but I see more of Clem.' He gave her a killer smile. 'Best thing about Christmas is that I get to see more of you, too.'
She scooted across the bench seat to give him another hug. The awkwardness from his basement bedroom was gone, finally, though Willow couldn't help notice the press of his body against hers. When she pulled away, she saw from his expression that he was affected, too. 'You are too cute,' she sighed, feeling obscurely adult for being able to acknowledge the attraction without acting on it.
Spike looked affronted. 'Cute' is for toddlers and red-haired witches,' he corrected, touching her cheek, 'not for ruthless, dead-sexy demons who rip out hearts and other vital organs with their bare hands.'
'Double-oh vampire,' she suggested.
'Nah, Bond doesn't appreciate women.'
She raised a brow at his dismissive tone. 'He sleeps with enough of them.'
Spike snorted. 'Like that means anything. Bond sleeps with more people in one book that I've slept with my entire unlife.' When she raised an eyebrow, he grudgingly added, 'Ten.'
'You've slept with ten women?' That number was a lot lower than she would have thought.
'Uh,' he said, looking away and grateful that he wasn't capable of blushing, 'nine women.'
Angel, Willow remembered, and she bit the inside of her jaw, desperate not to smile. 'I think you've shown incredible restraint, Spike.'
'Yeah,' he agreed with unconscious arrogance, 'I have, haven't I? Anyway, I actually like women. Bond just likes to shag 'em.'
'Why do we catalog that? I mean, somebody asks me that question, I can just whip out the number 'three' without thinking about it.'
He quickly glanced away, hiding his surprise, grateful they were communicating aloud and wondering if she even remembered what price Rack had required of her. 'Dunno. Internal check to make sure we aren't any worse than anyone else?' He shrugged. 'Honestly, I didn't tally it up until I saw Four Weddings and a Funeral.'
'Did you watch it with Dawn?'
'Saw it when it came out. British picture, after all,' he added somewhat defensively.
She leaned across and kissed his cheek. Something about Spike always cheered her, maybe just because of what he had said, that he genuinely liked women, including her. 'We'll talk after the battle, okay? See you soon.'
To his surprise, she got out of the truck and began walking back to Oz's apartment. Spike considered shadowing her to make sure she got there safe, then gave himself a mental kick. She might look small and vulnerable as she went briskly up the street, but Willow was more capable of taking care of herself than any slayer.
⸹
Buffy knocked on the door of Giles' office, and it opened immediately. 'Hullo, my dear. Come on in.'
'What's up?'
He turned away, not quite successful at hiding his guilt. 'What makes you think something is, as you say, up?'
'Well, the fact that you asked me to come a half-hour before Riley gets here.' She shrugged, sitting in the chair on the far side of his desk. 'It's what we in the field call a 'clue.' To her surprise, Giles took the seat next to her instead of going around to sit in the comfortable, leather-upholstered one.
'Ah, you've found me out,' he said, grinning a little. 'I did want to talk to you, ask you if you need anything of me for this… reunion.'
'No.' She shrugged and met his concerned gaze. 'I'm completely over Riley. A-and I'm sure about that, you know? I never really got over Angel, so I know the difference.'
'Are you angry with him?'
Buffy looked away, thinking of lumpy gray eggs improbably hatching while incubating in the cool downstairs of Spike's crypt, thinking of the way Riley had tried to hide his righteousness when he burst in on them upstairs. 'I don't know if he's shown himself to be my enemy,' she said after a moment, 'but he's shown that he isn't my friend.' When she saw that Giles was still examining her, she added, 'I'm not angry. I mean, the Immortal did way worse to me, and I'm not trying to get revenge on him or anything.'
'No,' her Watcher agreed, stilling his hands when they wanted to reach for his glasses for a good polish. Armando had informed him that the Immortal had disappeared from his estate one night soon after Buffy left and hadn't been seen since. Souls or not, Rupert assumed that he knew the two vampires responsible and the Scoobies who were complicit. 'Well, that's one of three things.'
A smile curved her cheek, and she had an urge to hug him, but she didn't want to make him feel awkward. 'What're the other two?'
'Have you had any more dreams, Slayer dreams, about the energy source?'
'No.'
'Buffy…' He did take off his glasses this time, not wanting to see her face. 'I've noticed that you and Spike… aren't close these days, but I wondered if the two of you would look for the djinn together? He is the only other person who's reported any sign, and it was when the two of you were together that you found yourself in an unknown passage.'
'Not until after–'
'After the battle, yes. That's what I meant.'
'Sure,' she said, her voice casual. Buffy was glad that Giles wasn't a vampire, though, because he couldn't hear her increased heart rate. 'I'm not the one avoiding him,' she added. 'He asked not to be scheduled for patrol with me anymore.'
'Do you know why?' Giles asked in a neutral tone.
'Not really.' She looked at her hands in her lap. You keep turning me down, pet, and I'm going to start to believe you don't want me. 'But it's okay. I mean, we can work together.'
'I know you can.' He put a hand on her shoulder briefly. 'How's Angel?'
Buffy smiled again. 'Stubborn. He's not going to join the Council, Giles.'
'Any idea why not?'
'He hasn't said in so many words, but the longest he's ever stayed in one place is probably the five years in Los Angeles, and he lived three different places there.' Buffy lifted her eyebrows. 'Was that the third thing?'
'Third? Oh.' Giles looked grim for a moment. 'I was going to tell you that Aubrey will be coming to get me for a moment when Lieutenant Muse leaves, and I want you to look like you feel awkward and leave with me.'
She frowned for a moment, then she lifted her eyebrows in realization. 'The listening devices.'
He nodded. Before he could add anything else, there was a knock on the door. 'Come in.'
Lieutenant Muse peeked around the edge of the door. His expression relaxed when he saw it was just them. He had come to have a great deal of respect for Buffy after tagging along with her and Vi on patrol, although he still preferred not to deal with Angel, Spike, and Clem, or even Willow and Oz. 'Hope I'm not too early.'
'Not at all, Lieutenant. Come in.'
'So, anything I need to know about this general before he gets here?'
'He isn't a general,' Buffy said, standing up because Giles had. 'I don't know what his title is, exactly. This is less military and more CIA, Pentagon or something.'
'Oh, like it always is in Central America,' Muse said dryly. At Giles raised eyebrows, he grinned, and Buffy could see why Vi was so taken with him. 'Hey, I've seen my Predator movies.'
'And I used to date him.'
The good lieutenant gave his head a tiny shake. 'This is the part where I don't ask if there's anyone you haven't dated.'
'Just one other in my closet. If you ever have a chance to vote for a guy named Parker Abrams,' she said, shrugging, 'don't.'
'What about that Chambers boy? Or Scott Hope?' Giles said, frowning.
'I'm not counting anyone I dated in high school,' she said pointedly, then backed down a bit. 'E-except Angel.'
'You were… uh, seeing him when you were in high school?'
Buffy gave Muse a look. 'You want to compare cradle-robbing tips with him?'
He snorted, and Giles asked, 'Are Vi and Rona back from Philadelphia yet?'
'Yes, and won't I be glad when this wedding is over? Vivian's getting ideas.'
'Wedding?' someone asked from the door.
'Hey, Riley,' Buffy said. She scanned him, and although Willow had said he'd put on weight, she couldn't tell. He was dressed in street clothes and looked at her for just a second before his eyes skipped away. I'm really over him, Buffy thought, relieved.
'You getting married, Buffy?'
She smiled. 'No. Closest I got was looking at wedding dresses not long after we met.'
'I remember.' Riley's smile was tight. Spike had been the prospective groom. He looked at the floor instead of her, then came in to shake hands with the two men. After the introductions, they got down to the issue of deployment, and Buffy didn't back down even a tiny fraction on where she wanted the Initiative to be. Finally, Riley turned up his palms.
'Okay, Buffy. No humans get in; every demon gets through.'
'Except the ones who try to come in at the press point.' Riley was going to speak to the inevitable reporters at one roadblock that was at a long distance from the mall. 'You'll want your men stationed well away so the press doesn't hear any shooting, or whatever weapons you're using these days.'
'Understood,' he replied.
You were always good at taking orders, she thought, but simply gave him a tight smile. 'Good.' Buffy turned to the good lieutenant. 'Joel, is there anything I've forgotten?'
'No,' he said, giving her an admiring look, 'I think that's everything. We'll coordinate with you,' he held up the business card with Riley's cell phone number, 'whenever the battle starts.' Muse checked his watch. 'I've got to go if I want to be at headquarters for the start of second shift.' He said his goodbyes, leaving the other three in an awkward silence.
'Oh,' Riley said, handing over a folder that he'd brought with him, 'here you go.'
'Thank you,' Giles said, checking the contents without expression. 'Not difficult to obtain, I hope?'
'No.'
Buffy looked between the two men, waiting for an explanation. When neither spoke, an uneasy silence fell.
'So,' Riley said heartily, 'are you sure there's nothing else we can do?'
'We're sure,' Giles said. 'This is our sixth battle; the only thing we can't handle is crowd control. A shopping mall at the height of the Christmas rush – Yes?' This was directed at the door, where someone else was knocking.
'Rupert, I'm so sorry to interrupt,' Aubrey said, overacting tremendously, 'but there's a matter that simply cannot wait. Would you be so good as to join me a moment?'
'Of course, Aubrey,' Giles said with a fixed smile. 'Riley, Buffy, excuse me.'
'I-I better go, too,' Buffy said, standing up as soon as her Watcher had walked by. 'It was nice to see you, Riley. You look good.'
'Thanks.' He stood too, with automatic politeness.
She slid her purse onto her shoulder. 'How's Sam?' Buffy asked, turning away.
'Fine. She's home with my parents in Iowa. Safer that way. We're going to have a baby.'
Buffy froze. 'A – baby?'
'Yes. She's eight months along.'
'Oh. Congratulations. That's… great. Really. Great. Well, I've got to be–'
He interrupted her babbling. 'So… how's Spike?'
Buffy took a small breath and stood up straight, his obvious question bringing her into familiar territory. It was sparring, just the verbal kind. 'Riley, there's not a chance you don't know I'm living with Angel. Spike is fine, now that he's got that chip out. Did you know he's got his soul?'
'No. I didn't know that.' Riley had an unreadable expression on his face. 'But you're not with him.'
'No.' Her voice was quiet as she considered him, a good-looking guy with major blind spots in his worldview. 'I'm with the first man I ever loved, Angel. Not a bad place to be.'
'I'm not too fond of him, either.'
'I really don't care.' She let out a breath, let go of everything. 'Congratulations again. Tell Sam I'm glad for her.' Buffy let herself out the door. She knew she should stay to see if Riley tried to retrieve the listening devices, but she slipped out of the house and went to the Camry. Everything she was supposed to want, some of which she actually did want, and the man who should have been the perfect one to give those things to her… Buffy didn't know where she was going until she was there. She looked up at the building and let out a shaky laugh. After driving around to the side lot to see if his truck was there, she parked and took out her cell phone. He answered on the first ring.
⸹
'Go on/Take another little piece of my heart now, baby.' Spike sat up in bed. Janis Joplin sang his ringtone for Buffy, and he was grabbing for the phone and answering before he was fully awake. 'Slayer?'
'Spike, could you meet me at the gym?'
'Be there quick as a wink, love. You all right?' One leg in his jeans, then the other. She didn't sound all right.
'I will be.'
'Clem,' Spike said as he came down the hallway to snatch his coat from the tree, 'tell Bit I'll be back in a while and to call me if she needs me.'
'Sure, Spike,' Clem, from his place on the couch, remote in hand, agreed, his voice trailing off as the apartment door shut behind the blond man, the last flutter of dark leather just escaping capture in the doorframe.
He careened into the parking lot at the gym a few minutes later, already sensing Buffy's presence. Spike found her in the dimly-lit armory, her hair a bright beacon in the light that came through the high windows, holding a sword.
'This isn't balanced,' she said, looking down the length of it.
'I know. Can't always choose your weapon, though. Teaches them to use whatever is to hand.' He closed on her, a smooth predator. 'What's wrong, love?'
Oh, God, his voice. She closed her eyes for a moment, then put down the sword and turned to him, her face breaking into a smile despite everything. 'You're curly today.'
'What?' He touched his hair. 'Oh, yeah. Showered before I went to bed. Wants cutting.'
'Sorry to wake you up.'
'Whenever you need me, love, you know I'm there.' He waited, holding his useless breath.
Buffy saw the hope in his eyes and closed her own. 'I need you to hold me for a while,' she whispered, all she could manage. She couldn't hold in the tears any longer.
He was there, gathering her close in an embrace that wasn't warm but still thawed something inside her. 'Long as you need,' he said softly, kissing the top of her head. Spike looked around, then moved to the only flat surface that wasn't the floor, a steel table. He plopped her onto it, then joined her, scooting all the way back against the wall so she could curl against him. After a while, she stopped crying. 'Tell me.'
'Riley,' she whispered, feeling his fingers tighten on her arm, her waist. 'Whenever he comes back into my life, it's a great big reminder of how empty, how not-normal my own is.'
'Love, your life isn't empty,' he soothed.
Buffy took a shaky breath. 'Sam is eight months pregnant.'
'Oh.' The miscarriage, another of the burdens she carried.
She felt him kiss her hair again and found she still had some tears left. 'I'm over him, I really am, but what he represents….'
'What's that?'
For a long time, she didn't answer. 'A life with a future. You know, progress. You find a guy, get married, get a house, have babies, get fat, have grandkids, retire, die.' Buffy's mouth twisted bitterly. 'Whereas, I find a guy and die, skipping all the other steps.'
'Doesn't have to be that way.' He took a breath and quickly added, 'Your life can be whatever you want it to be.'
'Angel said the same thing,' she told him. He could feel her shrug.
'You may want to step away in case lightning strikes, but I have to agree with him.'
Buffy snorted, wiped her eyes. He could always make her smile. She felt better, clearer, just from being with him. 'You know what? This is the last thing Riley can ever do to spin me. There's nothing left. He got married; they're going to have a baby. There's no other news that can touch me now. 'Oh, Buffy, we're having another baby?' Not hardly. I mean, I'm over him. That's it. I'm good.'
'Course you are. Hit the high points already, yeah? After this,' he said expansively, 'it'll be, 'Buffy, I'm in debt up to my neck for this McMansion in the 'burbs.' 'Buffy, did you hear? I'm on my second wife.' 'Buffy, I finally joined AARP.' He felt a smile curve her cheek. 'You really jealous of Soldier Boy and his bint, love?'
She thought about it. 'No. I'm envious because I don't have that option.'
'M sorry, love. Isn't easy being special, yeah?'
'No,' she agreed, her voice a whisper. She closed her eyes and held on to him tightly, appreciating more than she could say the fact that he didn't argue with her, didn't tell her again she could have that suburban life if she wanted it. 'Not easy.' Of course, she thought, if he really believed that was the life she wanted, he would set about getting it for her.
They sat there for a long time in silence, Spike stroking her hair in a way that seemed absent but she knew wasn't. Buffy found herself staring at his thighs, so muscular for a guy with such a lean build. I've found the secret behind those vertical jumps, she thought, smiling.
'What?'
'What 'what?'
'You smiled.'
'You heard me smile?'
'Felt it.'
She wasn't clear whether he meant he felt the muscles of her face move or if he felt it on the inside. It didn't matter, she supposed. 'Nothing. Trust me, it's too stupid to say out loud.'
'You can tell me anything. Might laugh, but won't think any differently of you.'
'No,' she said emphatically, not about to tell him she was admiring any part of his body.
'Why are you here with me, Buffy?'
She looked up at him, at the hoarseness in his voice when he said her name. 'You believe in me,' she said simply. 'Even when I don't, even when I feel like there's not much to me. I needed that.'
'Did you forget your best friend is in town?'
'Willow doesn't know about the miscarriage.'
'There's always your sister, too.'
'My baby sister.'
'And, of course, there's Angel.' Spike listened to her take a deeper breath and knew her temper was becoming short.
'Some things I just can't explain to Angel. You understand.'
'Then–'
'Spike, don't.'
'Then why are you still with him?'
She rolled her eyes and tried to get away, but he wouldn't let go of her. 'Why are you here with me instead of with Maria?' she snapped.
Spike held her away from him so he could see her, his jaw set. 'There's nothing with Maria. Didn't go out with her; explained to her that I–' His grip softened, and he looked into her wide hazel eyes. 'That I'm always going to belong to you, Buffy.'
Buffy felt awful then, not for herself. 'No Maria?'
'No.'
She closed her eyes for a moment. 'I'm sorry.'
'Don't be.' He lifted a shoulder, still staring into her face. 'Better she knew that sooner than later. Not pleasant, in any case. She told me I should get over you. What do you think?'
Yes. Buffy tried to make her mouth say the word. That's all it would take. He wouldn't get over her, but he might be able to find a place with Maria or someone like her, have something for himself.
Or, no. She could say that, too, and he would be worshipping her body in seconds flat, would take care of everything with Angel. He could simply order Angel away, apparently. He would arrange everything, and she could stop being so still inside.
In the end, she said nothing, gazing at him with everything in her eyes, love and confusion and fear. He was so beautiful, his short blond hair curling in the way he hated and she loved, his blue eyes full of hurt.
'Run on home, pet,' he said, letting go of her and scooting to the edge of the table. His wide shoulders looked weighted down, and he kept his head averted. 'Got some things I need to do in my office.'
Buffy watched Spike walk away, feeling far worse for what she had done to him than she had when she needed his comfort earlier. 'Oh, Spike,' she whispered, when she was sure he couldn't hear, 'I'm sorry.'
⸹
[Author's Note: The real WSLA is a sports radio station out of Slidell, Louisiana.]
The sixth battle hit Tuesday, as expected, and everyone was grateful that it fell on a slightly slower shopping day. The Hummers and troop transport trucks rolled at four o'clock, just before rush hour. Some blocked the entrances to the mall; other troops went to implacably escort shoppers and employees out of the stores. Lieutenant Muse had coordinated with mall security, using the handy excuse of a terrorist threat, and they closed all the entrances to the shops, pulling down the heavy chain barriers, shutting the reinforced glass doors.
He had also provided SWAT uniforms for the slayers, and they went through the empty mall preening in the black gear, giggling and window shopping as they got into position. From the roof, Willow shielded the perimeter until the last military vehicle was out of sight. Darkness was falling as she dropped the invisible barrier, and she could just barely see fleet vampires and awkwardly shaped demons begin to cross the parking lot.
'Incoming,' she yelled to the slayer by the door, Tribby, who was serving as runner. Willow's magic, they had discovered in this larger venue, fried walkie talkies. The young witch looked around at the nearby Watchers, smiling wanly, and they moved to the edges of the building, some going over last-minute details of spells, others readying their crossbows. Overhead, two police helicopters swooped noisily past, enforcing the no-fly zone.
Tribby bounded through the access door and down the ladder to the upper floor, then went down the motionless escalators shouting the news like an old-fashioned town crier. In case anyone hadn't heard, she headed to the security office, where she repeated the announcement over the mall speakers. Then she plugged her MP3 player into the public address system and leaned into the microphone.
'You're listening to WSLA, coming at you with all the hits for my sisters out there, especially Ivana. If you can't slay to this mix,' Tribby said in a smooth DJ's voice, 'you ain't got no soul.'
Laughter rose from the slayers as the first notes of Rose Royce's old classic 'Car Wash' came over the speakers. 'No 'Gilligan's Island' this time,' Ivana said, grinning.
'I'm happy so long as it's anything except freakin' Christmas carols,' Bethany said.
'Hallelujah,' Kayla agreed, singing the word.
'Tribs!' Spike shouted as the dark-haired slayer pelted back toward her group's assigned area. Since she was housesitting for Ty, he'd hardly seen her all week. 'You worked in radio?'
'In college,' she yelled back, turning to jog backwards for a few steps. 'Four hours of punk, five nights a week. Lowest-rated music program aired in Nashville!'
He gave her a thumbs-up. 'Way it's supposed to be!' Now he knew where she came by her encyclopedic knowledge of punk rock. Before the last handclaps of the song had died away, the fastest demons were dead, slain by stakes, sliced by swords. The next song was 'Play that Funky Music,' and Spike laughed, his favorite knife sliding into the soft underbelly of some green, horned demon. There were no punk classics in the mix, much less Christmas carols, just a selection of upbeat seventies funk, familiar to the Watchers because they'd lived during the decade, familiar to the slayers from movie soundtracks.
For almost three hours they battled the horde. Some parts of the mall had less carnage, depending on the proximity to the main doors; Willow was shielding the store entrances. In the atrium, the slayers soon lost their appetite for pitching vampires into the fountain of holy water, the screams and writhing too much even for their bloody-minded sensibilities. As the influx began to lessen, Willow sent another runner, Isidra, to spread the word that she was, to use Xander's phrase, setting phasers on kill.
This was also the cue to begin the hunt for the source of the energy. Spike gave Vi a tap on the shoulder and let her know with a jerk of his head that he was gone. The red-haired slayer nodded shortly and stepped into his place, raising her axe to her shoulder. He killed as he went, the number of demons dwindling as he came near the main escalator where Buffy was stationed, with Angel and Xander fighting by her side.
'Ready to go search for the magic lamp?' he asked sardonically. 'And just how,' he said, turning abruptly to Angel, 'do you know the words to 'Brickhouse?'
Angel gave him a bland look and a non-answer. 'Lived in Detroit for a while in the seventies.' When Spike continued to give him a questioning stare, he shrugged. 'I like Motown.'
Spike snorted. 'Come on, then, pet. Let's see what we can find.'
Nothing, as it turned out, though Buffy did spot a pair of shoes in Nine West that she made a mental note to buy as a present for Dawn. They didn't talk; he had said everything, and she wasn't able to say anything. After a thorough walk-through of the mall, the blond pair went back to help with cleanup efforts. No one had been injured this time. The extent of the damage wasn't as bad as it could have been; only two stores had been breached, with a few mannequins shattered. Several Watchers banded together to do Willow's scour spell, and they were done.
As the slayers loaded into two armored SWAT vans, still singing 'We Are Family' with their arms around each others' waists, Giles called Riley to let him know they were clear. In high spirits, the Council members headed back to the armory for a debriefing and the traditional pizza.
Spike voluntarily stationed himself between Giles and Aubrey, serving up breadsticks and rotating empty boxes for full ones. He looked around the training room, smiling, at peace after the rush of violence, watching his slayers strutting a little in their borrowed body armor. Dawn was standing next to Buffy and Angel, no thoughts of Mitch ruining her good mood. Xander, Willow, and Oz were talking to Vi and her good lieutenant. Maria and Tamika were sitting cross-legged to eat their pizza. Rona was animatedly explaining something to Geneva and several other slayers, probably about her upcoming wedding. Ivana and Tribby were standing side-by-side, arms linked, talking to Jacobson. Spike smiled. Life was good. Not perfect, maybe, but good.
Or, it was good for a few minutes. Riley slipped through the gym door, flanked by two shorter men in similar dress. Spike knew it was his hair, a bleached-blond beacon, but it still seemed inevitable that the git's eyes came directly to him. He gave Riley a sarcastic salute, then nudged Giles to let him know they had company.
The Head of the Council slid effortlessly into the role of grateful host, beckoning the three soldiers forward, sharing out more of the pizza. 'Capital job,' he said, beaming, rolling his eyes at Spike as he turned away for another pie.
Buffy, Spike saw, had moved into the comforting circle of Angel's arm, and she wasn't looking at him or at Soldier Boy. Maria was looking at him, and he gave her a brief smile, which she didn't return. Catching Dawn's eye, he waved and slipped out the far door, no longer pleased with the company.
Cleveland was busier than usual, fewer vampires but more exotic demons falling to his blade. After a few hours of solitary patrol, Spike circled back to the empty gym and got his truck. His thermos was inside, but more than he wanted blood, he wanted to do one final thing before heading home.
Riley's detachment was camped on the grounds of the local Guard unit, which had been deployed to the Middle East. Spike didn't know why, in a Cleveland winter, the Initiative had set up in tents rather than inside the dark buildings, but, then, he'd never been impressed with Riley's wits. It was a small matter to evade the guards, and their fancy temperature monitors wouldn't pick him up after hours spent patrolling the cold streets. Spike found his way to Riley's tent by smell. He thought an ambush might make it easier to suss out whether the wanker knew about the Initiative's recruitment of slayers, and a not-so-small part of him wouldn't be sorry if Soldier Boy tried to lay a hand on him, now that he was chipless. There was another scent in the air, though, and a frown settled on his face. What was she doing here?
Checking the terrain and the layout of the tents, Spike chose a tree and leapt into it. From his high vantage point, he was staring at the front of what smelled like Riley's tent, dark right now and empty. Just as he got settled, the big soldier walked into the tent, closing it behind him and turning on a light. Right on his heels was the stealthy figure of a small woman, and she opened the flap, not bothering to close it, affording Spike a good view inside.
'Riley Finn?' Tribby asked, making the tall man jump and turn around.
'Yes.' He frowned at her. 'How'd you get in here?'
'My name is Libby Snapp. I'm a slayer.'
'Oh.' He peered at her, trying to place her face. Except for Buffy, they all blended together for him.
'I wanted to make sure you knew my name before I killed you.' As she said this, she smoothly pulled a pistol from her coat.
Above them, Spike flinched after her calm words sank in. The pulse of her aura, he remembered. She was going mama bear again, then. He knew his lovelies, though, knew none of them were killers, and a smile caught at the corner of his mouth. This should be good.
'Kill me?' Riley repeated, staring at the gun. There was, of all things, a potato jammed onto its end. He took a step toward her. 'I don't even know you.'
'You know my friend Spike.' Riley took another step toward her, and she fired a round between his feet, blowing chunks of potato all through the tent, the report soft and muffled.
Before Riley could do much more than jump back, Tribby had shoved another potato over the barrel of the automatic. A homemade silencer, Spike realized, stunned by how serious she was, stunned into inaction.
'Right there is good,' Tribby said, her voice a Texas drawl. 'I been usin' guns since I was itty bitty. The only reason for a gun is when you need a distance weapon, and I like you just fine at a distance.'
Riley's hands went into the air in a placating manner. 'Look, I don't know what Spike told you about those eggs, but I didn't know they were going to hatch. They were supposed to be Suvoltes; I don't even know what it was that came out of them.'
She let out a soft snort of disbelief. 'Amazing how many bad things you musta done to him, 'cause I don't know anything about that.' She took a half-step back, settling into a Weaver stance. 'No, I'm here because you staked him.'
Riley, once again proving himself to be an idiot in Spike's estimation, relaxed enough to smile. 'Staked him? That? That's all? It wasn't a real stake, obviously. He's fine.'
'No, it wasn't a real stake. But I can't imagine that you find realistic-looking, wood-grain plastic stakes just laying around. I reckon that you have to have a Pentagon contractor make them, at great taxpayer expense, so you can use them to perform mock executions.' There was fury in her voice now, making it too tight for a drawl.
He tensed up again. 'Look, it's not like–'
'Shut up.' Tribby tilted her head. 'I know you. My people know you, Native Americans know the face of the US government, all nice words covering cold lies. The rest of the country might think that Abu Ghraib occurred in a vacuum, but we know better. You think nothing of experimenting on prisoners, of performing–'
'They weren't even human!' Riley cut in, frustrated.
'I don't care if they aren't human; demons are sentient, aren't they?' she shot back. 'Dumb lab animals aren't treated that cruelly.' She shuffled forward a few inches, and Riley backed away the same distance. 'Do you know how often that excuse has been used? 'They aren't really people?' You were in a position of power, and you mistreated your prisoners. That makes your heart just as black as theirs.'
Riley's jaw clenched, but his gaze dropped to the floor of the tent. 'Look–' he began.
'Shut up. Your Initiative performed medical experiments on my friend. He might not have had a soul at the time, but you couldn't have helped but notice he uses the same damn language. Then you, and not anybody else, came to him to take petty revenge because your cheatin' came out in the open. You shoved a stake into his heart that he fully believed was real. If that isn't a mock execution, I don't know what is.' Tribby's voice went heavy with sarcasm. 'Now, I'm not even going to bother with the Freudian implications of your need to penetrate another man. All I want from you is for you to face your cot, drop to your knees, and put your hands on your head.'
'What?' His voice was hoarse.
'You heard me. Get down.'
He did so, slowly. In his tree, Spike prepared to jump into the tent. As entertaining and satisfying as this had been, he wasn't about to let one of his own become a murderer. He knew too well how corrosive it was.
'My wife is going to have a baby,' Riley said. It was also a tool for talking down hostage-takers, but from his tone, it was a genuine plea. 'She's eight months pregnant.'
'You don't want to talk to me about widows and orphans, Army man. There were plenty after the Trail of Tears. Your troops drove my people off their land on a forced winter march. And they died, bodies left by the wayside, strung out over the miles. In my estimation, you're gettin' off easy.'
'Please,' Riley said.
'If you don't live by the Geneva Convention, GI Joe, you don't die by it.' Tribby reached into her pocket for something, then pointed the gun at the ground. She fired straight down, at the same time hurling whatever had been in her pocket at the back of his head.
Spike's cry of negation died in his throat at the same time a yell tore from Riley's. Tribby had thrown another potato, this one cooked, at his head. Shaking debris from her gun, she calmly waited until he reached up to touch the smashed potato and brought his hands around so he could see. Riley twisted backwards, still on his knees. He stared mutely up at her, tears on his face.
'Next time you want to mock-execute somebody,' Tribby said coldly, tucking her gun back into her jacket, 'think what it feels like.' She turned on her heel and left, closing the flap of the tent behind her.
Five steps away from the tent, she was snatched off the ground, hauled up into an oak tree, and pinned against the trunk.
'Sp–!'
He covered her mouth with his finger, warning her to silence. A moment later, Riley came out of the tent, calling for someone named Fox. Spike waited until he had moved off, then put his mouth very close to her ear. 'Why?'
'No one should get away with doing that,' she ground out, 'especially not to my friends.'
Spike stared into her fierce, dark eyes, a slow smile taking his mouth as he thought of the sheer poetry of an Irish potato mashed onto the back of Finn's thick head. He had no words, couldn't have used them anyway, so he leaned in close and gave her his thanks and his blessing with a kiss. He didn't hold back; she was a slayer, could take it, and he pressed her body hard against the tree. They had known battle that night, and Tribby was running on adrenaline. She kissed him in return.
Almost a full minute passed before Spike broke away. There were no humans about now. He scanned her flushed face and parted lips for a moment, then said, quiet, 'Now. Stay with me, stay low.' He dropped from the tree, the slayer following more carefully, and they began to make their way to the periphery of the camp. Two minutes later, they were in his truck, and he drove her the short distance to where she had concealed her car. Two vehicles looked less suspicious than one, Spike supposed, and he followed her west through Cleveland until they came to Ty's house. Tribby parked on the driveway close to the front door, and he pulled his truck in behind her.
He took a breath, trying to think of the many excellent reasons why he should just honk the horn and drive off. Instead, he thought about the way she put herself between him and whatever might harm him, whoever wronged him. She didn't ask anything of him, would hardly accept his help, but thought nothing of committing a felony to avenge him. Tribby had declared that she was his by her actions, his fledge, and she could bloody well do one more thing for him.
She gave him an anxious smile as he approached, waiting so they could walk to the door together. 'How much trouble am I in?'
'None. Not here to scold you.'
Her head swiveled up to meet his burning gaze, and she swallowed. She was bright, and he could almost see the thoughts flashing behind her eyes. She was also a slayer who had won a battle tonight. Tribby set her jaw. 'Okay.' She tapped in the security code on the keypad and unlocked the door. 'Spike, I invite you in.'
He could tell she had calculated the odds on whether her temporary guardianship of someone else's home would give her that right, letting the outcome dictate what happened next. It was her latest exit strategy. Spike gave her a predatory smile and stepped toward the threshold, thinking that a slayer should know better than to gamble with him. When he was inside, she shut the door.
'Hey, Gretl,' Spike said, stooping down to pet the bull terrier that came up behind them, wagging its short tail.
'You've been here before,' Tribby said, her eyes widening with the realization.
'Night of your birthday,' he agreed, smirking. 'Made sure Ty got home all right, didn't have a relapse and call 9-1-1.'
She shook her head and made a self-mocking face. 'Of course you did, sir.'
He stood up, considered her for a moment before taking her face in his cold hands, and kissed her again. 'Now,' he said, 'much as I want to stay,' another light kiss; he'd known how to seduce women for decades, 'I should go.' His words surprised him, and Spike stared at her upturned face for a moment. What was wrong with him?
Before she opened her eyes, Tribby bit her lip. 'Because if you stay, I will be in trouble.'
Spike's eyes narrowed. 'I should have expected Clash lyrics.'
She laughed and took a step back, then abruptly squatted down to pet the dog. 'Thank you,' Tribby mumbled, not looking at him.
'No. Thank you. That was one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me.'
The absurdity of the statement was enough to get her to look up. 'Attempted murder?'
'Attempted justice.' When she shrugged and dropped her eyes to the blissful dog, he grabbed the doorknob. 'See you later, Tribs.' In his truck, Spike stared at his hands on the steering wheel, wondering when he had changed so much. He'd done Harmony and the Wolfram and Hart lawyer, Reyes, after all, no problem.
That had been before she told him she loved him.
He sighed and started the truck, heading toward Dawn and home.
⸹
[Author's Note: Angel quotes lyrics from 'Suicide is Painless,' music by Johnny Mandel and lyrics by Michael Altman.]
'We're halfway there,' Angel mused, waiting for Buffy to go through the apartment door ahead of him.
She turned on the lights, looking confused. 'We're all the way here.'
'The battles, I mean. This was number six.'
'Oh. Giles is going to be in a state the rest of the week.' She shrugged out of her coat, letting him take it from her and hang it up. 'At least there weren't any booby traps this time.'
'How are you doing?' he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders, pulling her back against him. 'Seeing Riley, I mean?'
Buffy leaned into him, sighing. 'I won't lie to you. The news about Sam made me feel kind of weird.'
He nuzzled her ear. 'Because of the miscarriage.'
'Yeah. I suppose that had a lot to do with it.'
Angel switched directions so that he could trail a line of kisses along her neck without touching the Master's mark. 'Want to talk about it?'
'Mm, no, nothing to talk about.' Buffy rubbed sinuously against the press of his erection. 'Doesn't matter. I'd make a lousy mom, you'd make a lousy dad. Nice that we don't have to worry about it.'
He froze for a moment. She had no way of knowing how hurtful those words were. He never had found a good time to tell her about Connor. She was still moving against him, though, the scent of her arousal and the heat of her body enough to keep him in the moment. Angel redoubled his efforts, sliding his hands over her body, nibbling at the nape of her neck. After a handful of seconds, Buffy had forgotten all about Riley and parenthood, and after a few more, he'd put her estimation of him as a father from his own mind. Angel smiled a little as she gasped, his teeth against her skin. He'd been seducing women for centuries, but she made it all seem new.
An hour later, Buffy sighed and turned to spoon against him. They were on the couch, not having made it as far as the bedroom, and she reached out to idly grab the remote and check what was on television. Not finding anything, she passed it to Angel, who thumbed through a few channels before finding MASH. It was just coming on, and he hummed along for a moment, then sang 'Suicide is painless/It brings on many changes.'
She looked over her shoulder quizzically. 'Suicide is painless?'
'Name of the theme song. I've always liked it, even if I would never do it.'
'Do what? Commit suicide?'
'No.' He lifted a bare shoulder in a shrug. 'I was Catholic, right? Suicide is a mortal sin – not that it would matter for me.'
Buffy shifted on the couch so she was looking up at him. His eyes were shadowed. Usually she would say something to nudge him back toward happiness, but this was something that had been on her mind ever since she learned that Sineya had been the one who beat Spike. 'Someone who does that can't go to heaven, right? I mean, that's what the Catholics believe?'
'A lot of Christians believe that. Here,' he said, handing her the remote control. 'You can find something else to watch.'
She took it from him and used the power button to turn off the television, to change the subject. 'Or we could just not watch television.' Time to make him happy.
⸹
'We caught him,' Giles said smugly. The Watchers were meeting in their offices, before heading to a debriefing with the slayers at the gym that would turn into a holiday party. 'Riley Finn was in my office at four this morning, caught red-handed with the bug in his grasp.'
'Was it a literal red-hand spell?' Jacobson asked curiously.
'No, it was a mousetrap variation,' Giles replied, 'holding him there. At first, he went on some bizarre rant about slayers and potatoes, but then he just admitted that the Initiative had thought it prudent to spy on us.'
'Why would they do that?' McGann asked. 'There's hardly a reason for them to even exist, with so many slayers in the world.'
'That's exactly the reason why,' Giles replied. He glanced at Willow, who was looking at the table, then at Spike, who blinked at him for all the world like a sated lion. 'It's come to my attention that the Initiative has recruited slayers in South America.'
This caused an uproar and the phrase 'sacred duty' to be, inevitably, invoked several times. Giles threw out a few general facts, including the news that the work visa for the Watcher in Brazil had been revoked without mentioning Kennedy by name. Willow didn't look up from the table once. Spike, as planned, tossed out the idea that slayers everywhere should receive stipends, or at least received by those living below the poverty line.
'The important thing,' Giles said, 'is that the Coven was able to locate all the slayers. The Initiative has a record of medical experimentation, and we should all be relieved that none of our young women have become captives.'
'Hard to capture a slayer,' Vishnaswamy said coolly.
'They have stun guns that can bring me down,' Spike said, 'and you can ask Summers how well they work, too.' He flashed her a smirk, and she rolled her eyes from where she sat between Angel and Willow, holding Willow's hand. 'Didn't keep the Slayer paralyzed for long, but long enough to bind her.'
'As I recall,' Buffy said in a chilly voice, 'the Council already knows exactly how to capture a Slayer.'
'Er, yes,' Giles said, wading in, 'the important thing is that forewarned is forearmed. We'll keep a weather eye out for the Initiative.'
'I'll renew my efforts to get their funding cut,' said Hatcher, an American Watcher whose duties included keeping track of federal programs that might impact the Council. 'Not difficult right now, with so much being poured into the war on terror,' he added dryly.
'And I will of course write a letter of thanks for their help that completely contradicts your efforts,' Giles said with a sigh. 'No civilians were harmed, no Council members were injured, and there was very little property damage. Except for being no closer to obtaining the energy source, things could not have gone better.'
'As long as the next battle isn't at a Cavs game,' Xander said, 'there's nothing we can't handle.'
'Let's not tempt fate, Xander,' Giles warned. 'No, I find I'm quite ready for another small office building myself.'
'After Christmas,' Jacobson said.
'Next year,' Pelham added, making Jacobson smile. They seldom agreed on anything.
'One final thing. Before getting caught retrieving the bug, Finn brought me the record of someone who may present a danger to the Council.' Giles passed a sheaf of papers to his left. 'Please take one. This man is Ethan Rayne, once a chum of mine from university. He's quite a powerful sorcerer. Originally, I suspected him of sabotaging the gym, of–'
'This is the deliveryman,' Spike interrupted, having just received his copy. 'The one who had to have your signature or nothing, from last summer.'
'The one who did an off-the-cuff memory spell on Spike,' Rupert added, having long suspected that it had been Ethan at his door. There was a murmur among the Watchers at this proof of magical ability. He let it die away. 'Ethan has caused… mischief before, in Sunnydale.'
Spike looked away from Rupert to stare at Angel, whose anger he'd been primed to recognize for years. Turning back to the Head of the Council, he asked, 'This the bloke that turned you into a Fyarl?'
'Yes,' Giles said, taking off his glasses, 'and thank you so much for bringing that up.' Polishing them, he glanced down the table. 'Xander, remember the song-and-dance demon? I know you took responsibility for it at the time, but did you invoke him?'
The dark-haired young man darted a swift glance toward Dawn, then looked at the table. 'No. I mean, I wasn't about to mess with that kind of magic after every woman in Sunnydale saw me as their personal love-monkey for a day.' His mind was on a more recent spell he'd participated in, though, and he darted a glance at his friend Buffy. There was no way he'd have risked more magic when she was so fragile after they had summoned her back from death.
'Love monkey?' Jacobson echoed, but Giles' attention had turned to Dawn.
'It wasn't me,' she said emphatically. 'All I did was find the amulet and put it on.'
Giles hooked the earpieces of his glasses into place. 'I've suspected as much.'
'So you think that was Ethan Rayne's spell?' Buffy had two blotches of color on her cheeks.
'It would fit,' Giles admitted. 'The Halloween spell, the enchanted band candy… just another way of causing chaos.'
Spike, unaware that the Slayer considered the musical disaster to be her equivalent of Riley's fit-up with the eggs, was grinning at a memory. 'He's the one who turned the Slayer into a fainting bit of fluff? And, Rupes, if he magicked up that chocolate, I'd say you're in his debt.'
'Spike!' Buffy and Dawn both glared at him.
'Uh… I mean, powerful sorcerer like that ought to be kept in line.'
Rupert rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'I do agree on that point. The Initiative actually had him in custody until several months after the US put troops into Afghanistan. As the military were spread thin, they released him and deported him back to England. Our contacts at the State Department put him on a no-entry list, but getting back into the country would be a fairly easy thing for him to manage.
'I'd like each of you to learn what he looks like and make sure your slayers know as well. If you want more horribly embarrassing details of his exploits, just ask anyone who was ever based in Sunnydale. He's very powerful, lives to release chaos, and he does it very well. If anyone sees him, do not confront him. Leave him to me, or to Willow.'
Angel's aura surged again, and Spike glanced at him. He didn't think his grandsire would take Rupert's advice, and he made a mental note to ask why.
'That's all. Let me take this opportunity to wish everyone safe travels,' Giles said. Along with the slayers, most of the Watchers would be leaving Cleveland for the holidays. 'How are we set for patrols?' he asked Dawn.
'We're good, thanks to Spike and Angel.' Most of the slayers had holiday plans out of Cleveland. She and Buffy were flying to Illinois to spend Christmas with their Aunt Arlene again, and Angel had chosen to stay behind. Dawn wasn't sure how Buffy felt about that, but she wasn't surprised by Angel's decision. He'd never shown a great desire to interact with Buffy's family.
'Excellent. Well, let's adjourn to the training center, shall we? The slayers will be waiting.'
'Are you okay, Wil?' Buffy said, as soon as the noise of chairs sliding out covered her words.
'I guess. I hate that I cost Kennedy her job, but the Watcher's contract is pretty clear about conflicts of interest.'
'It wasn't your fault,' Buffy said firmly. 'Come on, Willow. Could you ever keep her from doing anything?'
'No,' Willow admitted, still looking glum.
'It's not like she'll be penniless when she gets home,' Buffy added. If there was one thing she had always resented about Kennedy, it was the fact that the younger slayer would never have to worry about money.
'Let's get you to the gym,' Xander said, squeezing his best friend's hand. 'Oz will be there, and I bet he'll make you feel all kinds of better.'
Aware that he was often lumped into the same stuffy category as the Tweed Brigade, Giles had arranged for his lunch meeting with the slayers to be catered. Food worked wonders with slayers. He waited until the catering staff had set up the tables, spread out the feast, and left before he clambered onto a chair. 'Excellent work!' he began. The slayers gave themselves a hearty round of applause. Looking over them he saw that someone had brought a large quantity of Santa hats, now perched festively atop many of the young women's heads. It was, he was pleased to see, going to turn into a party.
'This was the most challenging – oh, I say, Tribby,' he interrupted himself. She gave him a deer-in-headlights look, and he added, 'Your shirt.'
This made her look down to see what she was wearing, a faded grey t-shirt that said 'Fearless Vampire Killers.' 'Oh! No, sir, it's–'
'Bad Brains,' Spike broke in, amused. When Giles still looked blank after he named the band, he added, 'Name of a song, pro'ly older than she is.'
'Yes, well,' Giles said, only a little mollified, 'I expect a modicum of discretion. No need to advertise.' He looked away hurriedly as Tribby obligingly pulled the t-shirt over her head to turn it inside out. Sighing as he glimpsed the modest sports bra beneath, Giles wondered if he wasn't a part of the fusty Tweed Brigade after all. 'I wanted to thank you,' he said, 'not just for your efforts yesterday in the most challenging battle we've faced thus far, but for the work you've done all year. Have a wonderful holiday with your families, be safe, and I'll see you all next year.' There were still a lot of issues, he thought, stepping back down to the floor amid applause for his short speech. Had Ethan set the booby traps? If Andrew was right, who had planted the cheaper listening devices? And the big question, when – or whether – they would find the source of the demonic energy and put an end to the battles entirely. But Giles couldn't help be pleased with both the slayers and the Watchers, as well as things were going.
The hungry slayers and a handful of Watchers crowded around the buffet tables. Someone put a CD of Christmas music over the speakers, making Giles' smile freeze for a moment. He was heartily sick of carols and novelty songs.
'Hey, Giles,' Xander said, slipping into last place in line behind him. 'We're getting together at Buffy's this Saturday, right?'
'Yes,' he agreed. It was the last day that everyone would be in town.
'And you're staying in Cleveland for the holidays?'
'Yes. You're going to California to see your parents?'
'Unfortunately.' Xander perked up. 'I don't plan to stay long, though.'
Further along the line, Spike was listening to Rona talk, remarkably, about something other than her upcoming wedding. 'And, bam! I came down on the back of his neck with my elbow in this sort of modified pile-drive. That was the end of that demon.'
'Wish I'd seen it, pet.'
'Yeah, next time, I hope we won't be so spread out.' She speared a broccoli floret and returned to wedding talk. 'Oh, by the way, did you get fitted for your tux?'
Slayers who already had their plates filled were sitting at the small tables, talking. 'He's like Lloyd Dobler with a laptop,' Tamika was opining.
'Who's Lloyd Dobler?' Dawn asked, stopping with a fork halfway to her lips when the rest of the women at the table turned to stare at her.
'You don't know who Lloyd Dobler is?' Miriam asked, incredulous.
'I know Lloyd Dobler,' Ivana said quickly.
'I know Sunnydale was a small town,' Maria said, 'but it wasn't that small. Surely you've seen Say Anything.'
'No,' Dawn said, 'and don't call me Shirley.'
'Man, girlfriend's been missing out,' Bethany said, putting down her napkin. 'We're going to Blockbuster, renting Say Anything, and going straight back to Watcher Central to see it. How can you fall in love if you don't know the kind of guy to look for?'
'So Lloyd Dobler's hot?'
'No,' Tamika said, 'not so much that he's hot, as he's the perfect man – good-looking, sweet, and completely devoted to you. I'm looking for Lloyd Dobler with braids.'
Bethany leaned across the table and smirked at Maria. 'And Spike is Lloyd Dobler with fangs.'
'I don't know about that,' Maria mumbled.
Dawn had fallen quiet and jumped a little when Buffy came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. 'Lloyd Dobler?' she asked, puzzled.
'You've fallen down on your sisterly duty,' Tamika chastised, 'not making sure Dawn has seen Say Anything.'
'Oh. I've never seen that, either. John Cusack, right?'
'John Cusack?' Dawn said, sitting up a little. If Buffy had never seen the movie, that explained why the monks hadn't been able to give her a memory of it. 'From Grosse Point Blank? Why didn't you say so?'
Buffy wandered on to her own table, plopping down next to Willow and across from Oz.
'What's going on over there?' the redhead asked, as a burst of giggles echoed from the table Dawn was sitting.
'Talking about boys,' the Slayer answered, rolling her eyes.
'Yeah, we never did that,' Willow agreed, looking extremely innocent. Oz stared between the two of them for a moment, but didn't say anything, just helped himself to more chicken.
'Did we used to be that young, Wil?' Buffy asked, a serious edge to her voice. 'I can hardly remember.'
⸹
Spike stretched out on the couch, determined to enjoy his solitude. Tribby, after effortlessly avoiding him for days, had flown to Tennessee for a visit with her grandmother and her late husband's family before going on to spend the holidays with her mother in Florida. Dawn was at Buffy's for a Very Scooby Christmas from which he had excused himself. The sisters were flying to Illinois a couple of days later, and he assumed that Clem would leave soon after. Then he would have the apartment entirely to himself. He had no real plans for the time alone, and if it wasn't for the trip to Philadelphia for Rona's wedding, he'd be dreading the rest of the holidays.
Last year, he'd spent Christmas with his family in New York. Despite being newly corporeal, life had been less complicated then. This year, Dawn had taken his presents for the gang with her, and no doubt she would return laden with their gifts to him. He didn't want things, though; he wanted them, to spend time with them. But his presence would lead to awkwardness, and if he stayed away, it guaranteed a good time for everyone else.
No programmes on the telly that weren't Christmas-themed, so he put it on MTV to watch their patented mix of non-musical reality programming framed by thousands of acne cream commercials. He was pleasantly surprised to find an Osbornes marathon and fell asleep to the sound of homey accents.
⸹
Buffy stared at the pre-decorated tree she'd bought, had delivered, and placed in the corner of the apartment. The tree was tasteful and beautiful, and the remaining pile of gifts, wrapped in elegant black with red ribbon, Spike's signature colors, only added to its beauty. Dawn brought them, saying Spike decided not to come. What Buffy hadn't been able to have for Thanksgiving, she was getting now: a family gathering, almost everyone here instead of almost no one. Somehow, it seemed just as hollow. She had dressed in a solid black dress so she could wear her only pearls with it, Dawn having salvaged the necklace from her abandoned jewelry box in Rome. Now her fingers strayed to her neck to touch Spike's present as she thought of last Christmas, and she regretted wearing it.
'You look lovely,' Angel said, stopping as he went by her with a plate of cheese and crackers. He slid an arm around her waist and kissed her temple.
'Thank you. You, too. Handsome, I mean.' And he did, in dark slacks and a dark blue shirt, open at the throat.
He quirked an eyebrow at her. 'Not gorgeous anymore?'
She grinned reluctantly, brought all the way back to the moment. 'You know you are.'
He laughed, the sound still as charming to her as when his good humor had been rare. 'How am I going to know that without constant reinforcement from you? No reflection, after all.'
'You're just doomed to uncertainty.' Things between them were so good right now. He hadn't read a book in two days.
Angel hugged her to him, one-armed. 'I have confidence in you. You've rescued me from worse fates.'
She stole a piece of edam from the plate. 'Go on, gorgeous. We have guests.'
⸹
Giles paused outside the door, winded, but his plan to wait until he had recovered from the climb was for naught. Spike opened the door and raised an eyebrow.
'William,' he said unevenly. 'Curse vampire senses.'
'No, curse Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Hanley, who called to say there was an Englishman huffing and puffing his way to see me.' He stood back so Giles could enter. 'Or, don't curse them. They're a bit of all right.'
'Fourth floor walkup?' he asked, clutching his side and grimacing. 'What were you thinking?'
'I've seen you whale on demons for hours in battle,' Spike pointed out.
'Yes, but on horizontal surfaces.' He sat down on the couch, a funny look stealing over his face. Giles shifted just a little. 'My word,' he blurted, surprised. 'I think Dawn's right about the tiny elves that live in this couch.'
'When Clem's in, we fight about who gives up a bed for him,' the blond man agreed, hurling himself into the other corner of it. 'Don't even ask how much we paid for it.'
'Whatever it was, it was too little.'
'So, what brings you by?'
'You, of course.' Giles, still in his overcoat, pulled a small, rectangular package from his pocket. 'Happy Christmas.'
He frowned as he took it. 'Nibblet delivered my presents?'
'She did. Thank you very much. You'll have to show me how to use it, of course.' Spike had given him a tiny voice recorder to capture the odd thought, as well as expensive earphones to better listen to his collection of classic vinyl.
'I'll set up voice recognition on your computer – er, get Red to help you–'
'Hah! Too late.' Giles, recovered from the climb, grinned. 'You needn't hide your foul abilities from me, Spike – mesmer, transformation, computers.'
He snorted. 'Should I open it now, or wait?'
'Oh, no, go ahead. Open it now. It's why I braved your stairwell.'
He did, expecting a book, perhaps a rare first edition, considering Rupert's overstuffed bank account. Instead, he unwrapped a small white box. Spike opened it and pulled away the tissue to find a familiar item inside. He went very still. After a moment, he touched it reverently. 'How did you find this?' Spike scarcely recognized his own voice.
'I didn't, myself. I hired an estate researcher in London. She checked through the several families associated with yours and found it residing with an elderly Mrs. Carrington.'
'Carrington,' Spike whispered, staring down into his mother's face, at himself as a toddler. The portrait had been on his father's desk as far back as he could remember. 'Pippa – my cousin, Philippa, that was her husband's name.' Then, if possible, he grew paler. 'I have rellies?'
'Distant, I would think,' Giles said kindly. 'I take it that this miniature is familiar?'
'Yes.' His voice was soft. 'My mother.'
'She's quite lovely.'
'She was.'
Hugs from Spike certainly weren't rare, but this one left Giles as breathless as he had been from the climb. 'And you were,' he wheezed, 'quite the cherub.'
Spike gave a shaky laugh and sat back down on the cushion next to the Watcher. 'Don't believe it; just the bloody blond curls.'
Giles smiled fondly at the man, who couldn't seem to look away from the picture. 'I got the idea from you, you know. What you did for Willow just after you came back to us, getting Tara's picture for her.'
'Thank you, Rupert.' The muscles in his jaw flexed for a moment, and he made himself lay the frame on the coffee table. Spike bent to pick up the fallen box and wrapping paper. 'Couple of years ago, might have killed anyone who brought this to me.'
Giles' head snapped back. 'Ah. I can see where… But you've forgiven yourself?'
'Soul had its own view of what happened,' he shrugged, his eyes drawn back to the picture once again. 'Couldn't have known. At the time, I thought all vampires stayed themselves, just became a little more fond of alcohol and murder. I wanted to cure her. Didn't know she'd become….'
'Losing you might well have been the death of her, anyway.'
'No. She was made of stronger stuff than that.' But he looked troubled for a moment, imagining his mother unprotected in a greedy age. Then his brow cleared. 'Let me take you out, Rupes. We haven't been drinking for an age.'
'On a Sunday?'
'Like you're a praying man.'
'Oh, I pray,' Giles promised. 'I was just thinking that the crowds would be bad.'
Spike waved a dismissive hand. 'Churchgoers will be back home by now. We'll head out, make some barmaid very happy. Two blokes like us? Selfish of us not to, really.'
'Let's take your truck, shall we?'
'Why? Are the streets bad?'
'No. I just don't want you drunk behind the wheel of my BMW.'
'When was the last time you saw me drunk?' He reached for his coat. 'M actually a better driver when I've had a pint or three.'
As Giles stood up, groaning softly, he noticed the miniature was gone from the coffee table, no doubt in one of the many pockets of Spike's leather coat. 'Spike, I don't think there's anything that can make you a better driver.'
'Hey! I'm a good driver!'
'My Citroen begs to differ.'
'I was being chased by the bloody Initiative, you might recall.'
'I might also recall you'd nearly stripped the gears before we picked up the tail.' They left the apartment and went down the stairs, Spike's neighbors poking gray heads from their doors to check on the bickering pair.
⸹
'So, Clem,' Dawn said, coming from the hallway into the kitchen, 'which looks more festive?' She held up a red sweater and a blue one.
'Red's more traditional,' he said, pausing with a handful of corn chips halfway to his mouth, 'but I'd go with the blue. It suits you better.'
'Thanks,' she beamed.
'You're headed out to Illinois day after tomorrow, aren't you?'
'Yeah. Me and Buffy.' She grimaced. 'Short flight, at least. I should be able to hide in a magazine both directions.'
'You two don't talk much?'
'No. I've given up.' Dawn sat down, folding the sweaters and smoothing them across her lap. 'I don't know, Clem. Now that she and Spike aren't speaking, she doesn't talk to anyone, as far as I know.'
'Maybe she talks to that Angel fellow.'
'Maybe.' Dawn picked at the fringe on the placemat. 'Angel's never been much of a talker, either.'
'That's probably why she's with him,' Clem said sagely. Then his honest face sagged a little. 'Only, don't repeat that. I wouldn't say it if Spike was here.'
'I've been meaning to ask,' she said, shaking off her nagging concern about her sister, 'are you staying through Christmas? I don't like to think of Spike rattling around the apartment alone.'
'Oh, I'll stay through the next battle,' he said, practical, 'because it's too hard to resist. But I hope it's over by Christmas. I'd like to spend the holidays in San Francisco.'
'Clem,' Dawn said slowly, 'the battle is over. Last Tuesday.'
'That one,' he agreed. 'But the energy is building up again.'
She stared at him, stunned. 'Shit.' She left the table in a swirl of brown hair and headed to the phone. 'Giles. It's Dawn. We've got another one. Days.'
⸹
The skeleton crew of Watchers met that afternoon in an emergency session.
'Bugger,' Giles said, setting the tone for the meeting. 'Right, then. We've got three slayers in town for two days, until Wednesday. Buffy's leaving then, but Geneva and Miko are here through the holidays. We've got Spike and Angel. Including me, there are six Watchers. Is that enough?'
'I've got a call in to Charlie,' Spike added, 'so there's one more, 's'long as he can get a flight.'
'Don't forget Willow,' Dawn said. 'She's in California with Oz, but she'll pop back here for the battle.'
'We'll just recall the slayers,' Pelham broke in.
Giles frowned. 'Not unless it's absolutely necessary.'
'Giles, working with the large group of slayers, we've won every battle and had no casualties.' Pelham caught himself, but McGann had flown back to the UK two days before. 'Almost no casualties, but that, strictly speaking, wasn't because of the battle.'
'Yes, but we can work with fewer slayers,' Giles said. 'Spike took a small strike team to Boulder and did just fine, and the experiences of Angel Investigations suggest that one or two warriors with a contingent of skilled humans can accomplish a great deal.'
'Five slayers, plus you and Spike, were enough to do the job last Christmas,' Alpana added.
'The real question,' Aubrey said, 'is whether we will be endangering our slayers by putting them in a situation where they are outmanned?'
'Dunno that slayers are ever outmanned,' Spike said. 'Outgunned, outmaneuvered, out-planned, maybe.' He pursed his lips. 'Right. The Slayer, no question. Miko and Geneva are coming along, but neither has led a team in battle yet.' He tapped his pencil on the table, mentally divvying up his resources. 'Yeah. 'S'long as I have Charlie, another experienced fighter, we'll be all right, unless this warehouse is radically different that what we expect.'
'I tend to agree with Spike,' Giles said. 'Up until two years ago, we really only had one Slayer to work with.' He sighed. 'I'll put out a call. If someone wants to return, let them. But I won't require it. Those young ladies need downtime.'
'What about Faith Lehane?' Vishnaswamy asked.
'Excellent suggestion, Alpana. I'll ask her.'
'The slayer who was in charge in Brazil just came back–'
'No.' Giles, Xander, and Spike looked at each other, all having simultaneously nixed Pelham's idea. 'She isn't in disgrace, but I have my reasons,' Giles added. He rubbed his brow. 'Right. Now that we've identified the venue, we should have the blueprints from the city zoning office to consult by noon. Buffy and Spike are going to do a walkthrough of the building right after. I'm going to contact our jet charter service to see how many planes they have available; if Gunn can't get a flight, perhaps we can provide one. The same for Faith and any other slayer, I suppose.'
'Are we good on stakes?' Pelham asked.
Dawn nodded. 'Xander set up a programmable lathe just last week. It takes just a few seconds per stake, including loading lengths of wood.'
'Good, then,' Giles said, pausing to see if there were other comments. 'I'll man the phones. First thing is, I suppose, a call to Lieutenant Muse to see who else in the know at the police department is still in town.'
'Is he on holiday with Vi?' Vishnaswamy asked.
'In Florida, I believe, meeting her family.'
'Brilliant,' said the Indian Watcher, smiling.
Dawn and Spike exchanged a glance, Dawn's eyebrows rising high. Neither had known that. 'The slyboots,' Spike said.
'Yes, well,' Rupert said with some asperity, 'I don't think we've time to discuss the slayers' love lives. Let's get to it, shall we?'
⸹
'Benny, is Rojas workin' tonight?' Spike asked at the door.
Benny's flat gaze flicked over Spike, then slowly examined Angel. He shifted his eyes back to the blond man, breaking into a large smile that still looked too small for the enormous bouncer. 'Hey, man,' he said easily. 'He ain't here. New guy, right? It's gonna be slow till after Christmas, so he ain't on the schedule till then.'
'That's good news for me. Got a short-term job he might be interested in, he wants a little extra foldin' for the holidays.' He stepped out of the way as Benny waved a Goth couple in. 'You know where he lives?'
'No, man. We don't hang. You might try Richie Santiago inside, one of the bartenders.'
'Thanks, Benny.'
'Spike, this job,' Benny said, leaning in a little, 'would I be interested?'
'No, mate. You got those two little girls. Like you too much to get you involved in this. Money's not worth it.'
It took them a while to track down Manny Rojas, patrolling as they walked the city on foot. They finally found him down in a dismal little apartment that reminded Spike strongly of his crypt in Sunnydale. Manny had experienced a run of bad luck even before he was fired from the last nightclub and hadn't managed to scrape together enough money for a deposit on a decent place to live. He was enthusiastic about helping in the battle even before Spike mentioned that he would be paid.
'Nice guy,' Angel commented after they left.
'Yeah. Hope he does well in the fight.'
'You never know until the person's in it whether they'll do well.'
'No.'
'Darla hated a stand-up fight.'
'Duchess never cared much about exerting herself anywhere.'
'Except in bed, sometimes.'
Spike shot him a look, then shook his head, making no comment. He frowned and turned to glance behind them. The icy street was empty to the casual eye. 'Picked up a tail.'
Angel smiled. 'There's a vacant lot a few blocks up. Lots of room to play with a fledge.'
⸹
'Bollocks,' Giles breathed, watching the papers he had just held go scattering across the floor of his living room.
'Oh,' Alpana said, stepping out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hand. She set it on the telephone table. 'Here, let me help.' As they finished picking up the last pages, she noticed the Head of the Council flexing his fingers and grimacing. 'Bang your hand on something?'
'No,' he sighed. 'It's the weather in this wretched city.' Giles gave his head a little shake, closing his eyes for a second. 'I'm sorry, Alpana. Ignore me. It would be just as bad in Blighty. Never thought I'd say this, but I miss Sunnydale, the mild winters.'
'Arthritis?' Her eyes were full of sympathy.
He thought of Angelus' eyes, dark and glittering with glee, of pliers and hammers and the vampire's own strong hands. He thought of the weeks of rehabilitation after that, of calling all over California by dialing with awkward fingers as he searched for anyone who might have seen his missing Slayer. 'Something like that.'
⸹
'Who else can we get?'
Spike looked around from where he was stowing his axe after their patrol, an eyebrow raised as Angel broke the comfortable silence. They had been out all night, finding enough demons to slake even their urge for violence. He wondered if Angel really wanted him to answer or if it was rhetorical. 'Um, the only person I can think of that I wouldn't feel like I was sending to certain death would be Rojas, and we've already booked him.'
Angel nodded slowly. 'Yeah. I knew a cow – er, a man from Pylea, Lorne's home dimension, who was a great warrior, but I doubt we could open a portal to him.' He hadn't heard anything of Groo since he left the hotel and assumed he went home. 'Not easily, anyway.' He started to say something else, then hesitated, thinking of his sense that someone besides the Initiative was spying on them. 'Let's go for a walk.'
Spike nodded, and they went out the front door, locking up the gym, and headed east without words, walking shoulder to shoulder. After a few minutes, the thought that was weighing on Angel's mind made it into words. 'When you were testing Illyria… One day I brought a client, a young man, into the lab. Remember?'
Frowning a bit, Spike nodded. 'Yeah, vaguely. I only remember because I thought it was odd. He seemed a bit wholesome to be exposed to Wolfram and Hart's less public areas.'
'Wholesome?' Angel echoed, smiling. Then he cleared his throat. 'Well, he's more than human, has speed and strength.'
'So you're thinking of bringing him into this?'
'I don't know.'
'Well, I know we could use the help, mate, but he seemed like a rookie.'
'I watched him kill a demon, a time-shifter.'
'Impressive,' Spike said, raising his eyebrows. 'Do you know why he's all superhero? I didn't get the sense that he was 'rrr.' Spike bared his teeth and made his fingers into the shape of claws.
As always, the boy cut right to the point, to the quick. 'No, he's human. He isn't a demon. Or a vampire.' Angel looked over at Spike, slowing. 'His father is; his mother was.'
Spike stopped walking, a sharp look on his face as he put a hand on Angel's arm. 'His fath– Angel, you know that isn't possible; we can't sire that kind…' His voice died away, and he tilted his head to the right, examining his grandsire's face. Spike made one of those lighting fast connections that gave him insight into everyone, except perhaps himself. 'You're his father.' There was wonder in his voice.
The dark-haired man nodded. Then he gave the Master an uncertain smile. It wasn't so much a relief to tell someone as it was just so nice to be able to do so.
The blond head turned to the side, almost in negation. 'How?'
'I had won a life for someone, but she couldn't have it, so… The life became my son. Connor… was prophesied, so it isn't anything I went looking for. Those two things sort of… converged.'
'A dhampire?' Creating a human-vampire hybrid took incredible magic and was supposed to be invariably fatal to the vampire involved. Then he corrected himself. 'No, you said his mother is a vampire, too.'
'She was.'
'How long ago was this? He's what, twenty?'
'He just turned nineteen,' Angel said, surprise in his voice. God, the years they had lost.
'And his mum? If he's not a dhampire?'
'Darla.'
'Darla?' Spike repeated, a choked word halfway between revulsion and amusement. 'I heard rumors a few years ago that a vampiress was pregnant, and it was supposed to be Darla, but those kinds of rumors always say it's an Aurelian. Makes it sexier.' Spike frowned. 'Or more believable. Darla.' He shook his head. 'And I thought I had a horror story with my mum. How'd you keep her from eating him?' Angel gave him an annoyed look and began walking again. 'Hold,' Spike said, a certain ring of authority to his voice, and the big vampire stopped, throwing a frustrated look to the heavens. 'It was him, wasn't it? The Aurelian I smelled in the Hyperion Thanksgiving before last?' Spike moved in front of Angel, frowning. 'No, I would have known him by scent when you brought him trhough the labs.' Spike took a half-step closer, looking wounded. The kid had favored Darla, come to think of it. 'Liam, why didn't you tell me?' He had more family.
'Do you want to hear the story or not?' Angel's voice was harsher than he intended, and he knew from the way the Master studied him that some of his anguish had shown.
'All ears, mate.' Spike gestured for him to continue, and Angel told Connor's story, from Darla's unwanted but impervious pregnancy through Connor's kidnapping by Holtz and his eventual return. His words grew more terse as he told how he'd come to make the deal with Wolfram and Hart. They walked in silence for a long while after he finished the tale, side by side, heedless of the coming sunrise. Finally, Spike stopped, turning to face him. 'How did you do it?'
'Do what?'
'Give him up?' Spike shook his head. 'For the best be buggered. 'S'been back a while, but at one point, Buffy broke it off with me, tried to keep me from seeing Dawn. I was ready to blackmail her, or tell the Bit things to make her hate her sister. Had no compunction about doin' it, 'cause Dawn is mine.' The final word was nearly a snarl, and he put his hand to his chest. 'We're vampires, mate, the very definition of possessive. When I smelled him at the Hyperion, bloody hell, even I wanted him. Didn't know who he was, just he's family.' He shook his head, looking at Angel in amazement. 'God, no wonder you were so depressed last year. How could you bring yourself to give him up?'
The dark-haired man looked away, uncomfortable. 'I had to. Otherwise, I would have lost him entirely.' He aimed a sad smile at the pavement. 'Wish I would have learned that earlier with you.'
'Angelus lost me. Not you.'
Angel stared into the steady blue eyes, then closed his own and leaned forward to press his forehead against his grandchild's, his hand heavy on the pale nape. After a second, Spike's cool hand curved around his own neck. They stayed that way in the empty street for almost a minute, like two horses resting against each other.
After an internal struggle, Angel managed to say what was on his mind. 'The only reason I can tell you this is because I know you can keep a secret, and,' he licked his lips, 'and because you know how it feels to rip your own heart in two. You gave Buffy up to me.'
Spike pulled away a few inches and regarded Angel for a long moment, his eyes fierce and glowing with that odd, clear light. He had known that Angel was trying, that he really was a different being than Angelus. But if he understood that sometimes you had to let people go… It was the hardest lesson Spike had ever learned. Ever a creature of impulse and action, he went to demon face and ripped into the flesh at his own wrist. Then he dropped to his knees before Angel, head bowed, and offered his blood.
Submitted.
'Spike? What the hell?'
'See it in the animal kingdom, yeah?' Spike asked, his voice unsteady as he looked back up into Angel's face. 'Two lions, claiming territory together,' he was breathing hard now. 'Two brothers, equals. Has to be brothers.' He had never really wanted the position, didn't want to be senior to his grandsire anymore.
Angel looked horrified at the prospect. Two vampires, jointly Head of an Order? It was insane, unprecedented!
'Don't leave me hangin,' Liam.'
He looked into the burning eyes of a man who had vexed and challenged him for decades, a man he had wronged, who was already closer to him than a brother, who trusted him with the most precious thing in his world. The part of him that was Angelus was hard and straining at the sight of the boy – finally! – kneeling before him, at the earthy smell of family blood, freely offered. The rest of him was dumbstruck at the incredible generosity of the gesture. 'Will,' he whispered. Then Angel brought out his fangs and gathered the other man's arm to his mouth.
Family blood. Nothing was sweeter.
Like Spike, he wasn't able to make it go quickly, savoring the taste of blood, the power. There was no taking involved this time, and Angel somehow knew it wasn't even sharing, that some alchemy of the blood magic would leave them both stronger rather than equal and lesser. Now, though, he staggered, putting one hand out to rest on Spike's shoulder, but it wasn't enough. Overcome, he dropped to his knees, too, both on the same level, supernatural forces coursing through him, between them.
Angel managed to put on his human face and run his tongue across Spike's wrist. He would have collapsed all the way if the boy hadn't been there to hold him up. 'Will,' he said again, soft. Desire was a small thing against the enormity of his emotions, the overriding protectiveness, the surety of family. He wished he had some better way of expressing love, but the light kiss he placed against Spike's mouth would have to do. He felt the cool breath against his lips and rested his forehead against the other vampire's once again.
'Ponce,' Spike said, lowering his lashes. When he looked up, his face was full of laughter.
Never the expected thing, and it helped Angel get his bearings. He smiled tiredly. 'That was worth waiting a hundred and twenty years for.'
'Told you I was good.' He sat back on his heels, swaying. 'C'mon. Sunrise is comin.' They helped each other up awkwardly, for all the world like two drunks holding each other upright.
'Why?'
Shrug. 'Lonely at the top.'
'Will.'
'Never comfortable with the whole Master bit. No problem being the face of Aurelians to the outside world, but not happy lording it over family.' Spike looked away. 'Over you. Pro'ly a soul thing, yeah?' He took a breath and met Angel's gaze again, much less affected by the exchange. Having already gone through the process while in considerable emotional pain, he was surprised at the toll it had taken on Angel. 'You all right, mate?'
He laughed, a short, shaky sound. 'Feel like I got my balls back.'
'Strong?'
'Yeah. And…' he paused, thinking to see if it was the right word, 'free.'
Spike's eyes lit with a softer version of his inner fire. 'Yeah? Felt that way when I decided to take Dru with me and leave Darla. Good feeling.'
He got it, the feeling of being unfettered, the world before you… he understood; they had a connection. Angel shook his head helplessly, then took Spike by a shoulder so he could kiss him again.
'Geroff me,' Spike said, pushing him away. There was no rancor in the words. 'S'posed to make us brothers, not girlfriends,' he grumbled.
Angel put his hands to his own face for a moment, then laced his fingers behind his head. 'I… How else is there to… I don't know what else to do to show how much–'
'Well, I bloody well do. Back to the gym, Peaches. We'll get out swords or something. Sublimate. You say you feel strong.' He laid his head to one side. 'Prove it.'
Two hours and two ruined shirts later, Spike stood over him, holding the point of an unfamiliar sword at Angel's neck. The big vampire had broken the one Spike originally chose. Then he smiled, moved the sword, and held out a hand.
'You won again.'
'And you're surprised?' Spike scoffed, then frowned at the blade. 'This is a bleedin' espada.' A smirk. 'Guess it's appropriate, then.' When Angel raised an eyebrow, he struck a pose, the tip of the weapon on the floor of the training room. 'Matador's sword.' He was moving again a second later, unable to stay still. 'Blood settled, then?'
'Better.' Angel watched him cross the floor. 'Could you, you know, not move for a few seconds?'
'No. Toss me your sword.'
The corners of Angel's eyes crinkled at the flat answer. 'Blood not settled?' Spike grinned over his shoulder at the other man, and the dark-haired vampire had to laugh. 'I love you, Will.'
'Liam, I love you, too.' They smiled across the distance, and after a moment, Angel looked away, covering it with an extravagant stretch.
'That felt really good.'
'It did.' He closed the weapons cabinet. 'You're in good form. Still think we need extra hands?'
'Can we afford to not call him in?'
'Yes.'
Angel felt a rush of gratitude at Spike's concern for his son. 'No. I don't think we can.'
'I think you're looking for an excuse to see him.'
Angel considered his bare feet. 'You're right,' he admitted. It was Christmas, when you were supposed to be with family.
'Usually am.'
'And arrogant.'
'Learned from the best.'
'I am not arrogant. I'm actually very humble.' He waited until Spike snorted before adding, 'I am.'
Spike just smiled and let it go. 'Hungry? Got some pre-embalm O-neg in the fridge in my office.'
'Sounds good.'
As they got to the door, Angel's cell phone rang, and he retrieved it from the coat he had slung over his shoulder. Spike shook his head wearily; the ring tone was the chorus of 'Copacabana.'
The guilty look on Angel's face faded as he saw the number. 'Hey, Gunn. How are you?'
'Fine. Took Giles up on his offer of a ride.'
He glanced at Spike, raising his eyebrows, and the other man gave a thumbs-up. He could hear just fine. 'When do you get in? Noon? Spike, can you pick him up? Spike'll be at the airport.'
'Oh, hey, say hi to Blondie Bear for me,' Gunn said affectionately. 'Tell him I've still got a raincheck for going out drinking.'
Angel glanced over at Spike in time to catch him rolling his eyes. 'I will. See you soon.'
'Blondie' – I should have staked her more than just the one time,' Spike mused, absently ruffling his platinum hair.
'Harmony? I thought that was the problem,' Angel said, tucking away the cell phone again. 'All that… staking, no commitment.'
'Very funny,' Spike said. Then he added brightly, 'Good news is, thirteenth battle happens, we'll all be dead, so I won't have to worry about my bleeding tragic history with women.'
'It is tragic,' Angel agreed. His expression changed, and an awkward silence grew between them as Spike turned away to get the blood. Both contemplated one particular woman.
'You should tell her,' Spike said suddenly. 'About Junior, I mean.'
Closing his eyes, Angel gave it a rehearsal. 'Hey, Buffy, remember how I left because I couldn't give you a life or children? Guess what? I'm a daddy after all.'
'Tell her,' Spike repeated with a good deal of gravity. 'When you do, tell her I specifically told you to tell her because everyone's secrets have a shelf-life.' Angel glanced at him, wondering what he meant by that, and was further confused when Spike barked a laugh of pure amusement. 'Oh, you'd better tell her, grandsire.' He gave the dark-haired man a devilish grin. 'Our family dynamic? Your boy's only a few years younger than the Slayer, and he did say he liked older women.' Spike stopped laughing at the look on Angel's face. 'Oh. The cheerleader.'
'You've made your point,' Angel mumbled. 'I'll tell her.'
'This means you're going to see if he can visit for the holiday bloodshed?'
Angel couldn't keep the smile from his face. 'Yes.'
'Paid a big price for that shiny new life he's got.'
The big vampire sat down and put his hands on his knees. 'It wasn't the life. I did it to give him the childhood I hadn't been able to give him. The sorcerer who cast the spell is dead. As I understand magic, that means if it didn't break when the spellcaster died, it can't be broken, that those memories can never be taken from him. It's like… he's built on a strong foundation now.'
'Like Joyce gave her girls,' Spike said, nodding.
'When Connor came back to Wolfram and Hart that last night… It was like a benediction, Will. He… didn't hate me anymore.'
Spike took out his mobile. 'Giles? Angel has a bead on a young warrior out in Cali. Do we have another jet?'
Angel looked at his own phone as he listened to the deep voice. The Master was – No, not the Master. His friend, his brother was helping him take the last step toward healing wounds that had been inflicted when his son was stolen. Nothing had been right since then, and precious little had been right before.
He hadn't programmed Connor's number into his phone, too wary to do that, but he had it memorized. Angel tapped it in quickly, then hesitated for a long time before pressing send. It rang six times before he got an answer.
'Hey.'
Angel closed his eyes at the easy, confident greeting. 'Hello, Connor. It's your – It's me. Call me back at this number if it isn't a good time.'
A very slight pause. 'Hey, can I call you back in a few? Sure. Bye.'
'You're shaking, man.' Spike sat down and handed him the blood, then scooted closer, sprawling so that his knee touched Angel's. He felt his grandsire relax, tension draining away with the contact.
Angel smiled helplessly. 'Just hearing his voice…' He trailed off, unable to finish, and covered his emotions by breaking into the blood. When Spike's phone rang, his fingers clenched on his own cell convulsively.
'The Slayer,' Spike said, patting his arm absently as he opened his mobile and stopped 'Piece of My Heart.' 'Yeah?'
'Spike, is Angel still with you?'
'Safe as houses, Slayer. We're working out the last details with Gunn, then he'll be done.' He knew Angel could hear everything, too.
'I couldn't get through on his cell. Was your patrol bad? It was a double shift, and I–'
'And you were worried when you woke up and he wasn't there,' Spike finished for her. 'Patrol was fine, just lively enough to keep us both busy. And he was on the phone with Charlie. He'll tell you all about it when he gets back.'
'Oh.'
'Eve's gone, pet. Won't let anyone get him.'
'You always know.'
The sculpted jaw tightened. 'Yeah. I do.' He drew himself in a little, the companionable knee withdrawing from Angel's. 'Anything else, Slayer?'
'No. Bye.'
Spike folded the phone and tossed it on his desk. He stared ahead, ripped into his own packet of blood. 'Worried a bit.'
'I gathered.'
Spike's phone rang again, this time with the strains of 'Emotional Rescue.' 'That'll be the Nibblet.' At Angel's raised eyebrow, he shrugged. 'She set up that ringtone herself.' He put down the blood and grabbed the mobile. 'MacEwen's Tripe and Ale.'
'Eww, gross, Spike. You're all right, then?'
'Yeah. In my office, not outside somewhere, sizzling.'
'Well, that's always good.' She yawned. 'Clem says hey.'
'Hey back to him. I'll be home soon, love.'
'You need sleep.'
'Always hard to sleep before one of these battles.'
'Well, I need more sleep, too. I'll nap with you.'
'Nicest offer I've had in the last eight seconds.'
'Hah bloody hah.'
'Language.'
'God only knows why I love you.'
'Love you, too, Dawnie. Bye.' He'd slipped, and he knew it, so Spike ended the call before his bright girl could inquire further. Spike didn't bother forcing a smile when he looked at Angel; his grandsire was looking at the floor, anyway. 'Reckon I'll go on home and kip before I pick up Charlie.'
'Sure.' He was dismayed at how the outside world had intruded and made their closeness evaporate like dew beneath morning sun. As Spike went by him, his arms full of leather coat and blood packet and loose cell phone, Angel stood, stopping him. 'Will? I want you to meet him. I want… I want you two to get to know each other. Will you go with me to pick him up – if he comes, I mean?'
'Course.' He shoved everything to the crook of his elbow to free up a hand so he could pull Angel's forehead down to his. 'Love you, mate. Never doubt it.'
'Me, too,' he replied, his voice gruff. Angel watched him walk away, then sank back onto the couch. Just as he was about to see if he could choke down more blood, his own phone finally rang.
'Hello?'
'Hey. Anything wrong?'
Not anymore. Angel closed his eyes. 'No. Actually, things have gotten better since I saw you.'
'Well, good.'
'How did your semester go?'
'All A's. I changed my major to criminal justice.'
'My constant worry just racheted up a notch.'
Connor snorted. 'You sound like my Dad.' There was an awkward pause. 'I mean… you know.'
'I know. It's okay.' Angel took a breath. 'I was calling to see if you'd be interested in coming out to – coming to my new town for a battle.' He wanted to be cautious, in case anyone left from Wolfram and Hart might be listening.
'A battle?'
He could hear the slight quickening in his son's voice. 'We're a little short-handed – people gone for the holidays.'
'What kind of battle?'
'We get a mix. Say, half garden-variety vampires, the other half anything from Fyarl to things even I haven't seen before.'
'When you say 'short-handed,' how desperate do you really mean?'
'Uh,' Angel said, seeing a visit with his son slipping away, 'we've got three slayers here and Faith may be on her way, two Aurelians, Charles Gunn, half a dozen sorcerers from the Council of Watchers, and,' he closed his eyes, 'the single most powerful white witch alive today. Not really desperate.' Spike was right; he had been searching for any excuse.
Connor's voice changed again, warmed. 'So, you don't need me?'
'No, I guess not. That's okay. I mean, it was just a thought. It's probably for the best, staying away from–'
'What's the best way to get there?' Connor interrupted.
A wide smile stole across Angel's face. 'We can send a chartered jet for you.'
'No lame Camry?'
'I, uh, ended up buying that Camry,' he admitted, a silly expression on his face. 'I also have a classic Mustang, a Shelby,' he added hastily.
'When is it?'
'Probably Wednesday, maybe Thursday. The prediction isn't precise.'
'They never are, are they? As long as I can get back by Christmas Day, I think I can get my parents to let me go on a ski trip or something.'
⸹
'What happened?' There was no preamble, and Dawn's arms were already crossed.
'Bed.' He hung his coat on the rack and went down the hallway without another word. Spike sat on the bed and took off his boots, then stripped off his shirt. Giving Dawn a pointed look until she turned around, he stripped naked and found a pair of pajama bottoms to put on. 'Right, then,' he said, holding out his arms.
Dawn kicked off her slippers prior to climbing in next to him. He had an odd, sliding moment, thinking of the houseshoes she had been wearing the night he came back to Sunnydale after getting his soul. Those had little bows on them, too, had been white instead of pink.
'Love you, Nibblet,' he said, enfolding her in a hug.
'Love you, too. Tell me.'
'Nothing bad. Something good, I think.' Since it wasn't his secret to tell, he left out Angel's interrupted parenthood as he explained about sharing the leadership of the Order of Aurelius.
'You're, like, co-chair?' she asked in an incredulous tone.
'Not precisely how I would put it, but, yeah, I guess.'
'You shouldn't have. I mean, now you can't order him around.'
'Bit, the whole time after he submitted, the only command I really gave him was to take care of your big sis.' And that was something he didn't want to talk about. 'Anyway, when you called, I'd just gotten off the phone with her, reassuring her that I hadn't let Angel play in traffic or something.'
'So that's why you sounded upset.'
'Didn't sound upset.'
'Of course not,' she agreed, not caring that she sounded insincere. 'But you do sound tired.'
'Not surprised. The whole submitting or sharing or whatever the hell we did was sort of draining for me.'
'What about for Angel?' She was surprised to see a genuine smile form on his face.
'Set him free, yeah?'
⸹
'You've got your portfolio out,' Buffy said, surprised.
Angel nodded. 'It's about time.'
She nodded, coming from their bedroom where she'd finished dressing to perch beside him on the couch. 'I agree. I haven't seen you draw hardly any.' Spike had given him an expensive-looking set of charcoals for Christmas, and she wondered if that was what inspired him. 'Some of these look old,' she said, touching the edges of the pages in the portfolio.
'Might be a few in here over two hundred years old,' he agreed.
'Can I see them?'
'As a matter of fact, I planned on showing you everything.' Angel had sorted through the drawings, reinstating the ones that had been hidden. 'I've got a story to tell you, Buffy.'
'Ooh, complete with illustrations,' she said brightly. 'Will there be sock puppets, too?' Her expression faltered when he didn't smile back. 'I'm not going to like this story, am I?'
'I hope you will, but none of my stories are easy,' he said, trying for neutral but hitting an anxious note. Angel took a deep breath, ready to talk. He turned a page. 'This is a sketch of a young man named Connor. He's flying in from California to help with the battles.'
'Cute,' Buffy said, unaware of making Angel's gut clench. 'Did you work with him at Wolfram and Hart? He's trustworthy, isn't he?'
'How old do you think he is?'
She studied the portrait. 'Um… eighteen?'
'He's nineteen,' Angel said, 'or, if you look at it another way, only four.'
'Really.' Buffy raised an eyebrow. Dawn was only five.
Encouraged by her acceptance of this, Angel went on. 'Connor is a good person, a human, soul and everything, but as strong as a vampire. I saw him defeat a time-shifting demon, and that isn't easy.'
'Why is he so strong?'
'His parents, his real parents, were vampires,' Angel said, and he turned over the next sketch.
Buffy stared at it for a long time, color leeching from her face. A beautiful woman holding an infant, love obvious on a face absent its habitual smirk. 'That's Darla.'
'It is. That's where this story starts.' He told her about Darla's resurrection, why it was done, how the Wolfram and Hart plot had both succeeded and failed, told her about winning a life by forfeiting his own. When Angel got to the part where he had tried to lose his soul, he looked away from Buffy and stared at the sketch. He went through Darla's pregnancy and her sacrifice, told of the precious few weeks he'd had with his son, how even those were marred by outside forces.
Buffy gazed steadily at the next portrait, Cordelia holding Angel's child. She listened as he told her about Holz, about Wesley, about Quor'Toth and Connor's eventual return as an adolescent. Her eyes went back to him when Angel explained how he had been imprisoned, even though he glossed over how long he'd been at the bottom of the ocean. Angel turned to a portrait of his son, going over the outline of the terrible thing that had happened to Cordy, of how the being that wore her form used the confused boy, and of Connor's eventual emotional and mental collapse.
The Slayer nodded when he got to the deal with Wolfram and Hart, finally understanding how he'd come to be associated with them. Connor was now, she gathered, a great kid, someone who had turned out well despite everything – like Dawn, really. Shyly, Angel held out the framed graduation picture, explaining how Connor had defeated Sahjhan in the prophesied battle and how he remembered his real story now. She examined the features again. He did look like a nice person, except for favoring Darla.
'And that's the tale,' Angel said finally, 'illustrations and all.' She'd been quiet the whole time, all wide eyes and pale face.
'That's quite a story.' Buffy took a breath. 'You never told me.'
'I couldn't. I'd paid such a price for his new life–'
'No,' she interrupted. 'You said that Wolfram and Hart modified the memories of people associated with Angel Investigations. They didn't have to modify mine, did they? I'd never known.'
'No.' He looked down.
Buffy stood up, cupping her elbows. 'You became a father, and you never told me.'
'How could I, Buffy? After what I said about leaving so you could have a normal–'
'Your son was kidnapped and taken to a demon dimension, and you didn't call me, didn't call the Slayer to help save an innocent?'
'You'd been dead! How could I put that on–'
'Your people didn't even call me to look for you and Cordelia when you were missing!' Her voice had risen. 'Was I that far out of your life?!'
'Buffy,' he said, his voice even, 'this isn't about you.'
'No, but I think it's about us.' She took a step forward. 'Okay, so, four years, whatever. We've been together now for months, and you never told me.'
'I'm telling you now.'
Her head snapped back, as if his voice had been raised. 'Yes. I guess you are.' Buffy uncrossed her arms, smoothed her shirt. 'Who are you? Do I even know you?'
'Buffy, you never talk to me, either.'
'You know everything about me, everything that's mine to tell.' Her eyes were bright with tears. 'You know about how I wasn't enough for a human, that Riley left me. You know how awful it was after Mom died, how our father didn't even bother to come to Mom's funeral, how I couldn't afford to stay in college. You know I died again, that they brought me back from heaven. From heaven, Angel, from peace.' She looked away, tears spilling over her cheeks. 'You know what I did to Spike. I stopped getting in touch with you after that, because I was so…' She took a breath. 'You know what happened to Tara and Willow, what happened to Sunnydale, what happened with the Immortal. You know I lost a baby. Can you see why I might not want to rehash any of that?'
'Buffy…' Angel gritted his teeth. 'I can't change how things happened. But Connor is coming here, and I want him to get to know you. You're both important to me.'
She twisted her head to the side and gave him a disbelieving look. 'Important to you? But not important enough to actually include in your life?'
If the Slayer had hit him physically, the blow couldn't have been more direct. When it came to keeping people at a distance, he knew he was world-class. Angel had thought he was changing, though. Cornered, he lashed out. 'Spike said to tell you that everyone's secrets have an expiration date. What does that mean, Buffy?'
Buffy knew the troublesome blond had been referring to Dawn, another adolescent thrust suddenly into a less-than-normal world, but she metaphysically could not tell Angel, even if she had been of a mind to do so. She was preoccupied with something else. 'Spike knew? You told Spike before you told me?'
'Just this morning,' he replied, closing his eyes with weariness. Angel tried again. 'The longer I went without telling you, the harder it was to tell you.'
'Don't.' She held out a warding hand, closing her eyes. 'I-I can't deal with this right now.' She went to the door, randomly grabbed a coat and her purse. 'I'm going for a walk.' In the pale December sunlight, where Angel couldn't follow.
⸹
Buffy stood outside the house, staring up at the windows on the fourth floor. She needed desperately to talk to someone. Her sister, who routinely begged her to share things, was just inside this building. So was her dark half, who was always going to be there for her, no matter how much it hurt him. They loved her, would always love her, even if she had gotten it wrong with yet another man.
She had known all along that they didn't have the same closeness as before, but it hadn't mattered. Night after night, the sex was good. Seeing Angel smile or hearing him laugh was even better. She'd given that to him. And he gave her a safe haven, where things were Buffy-proofed, no sharp corners, no accidental shocks, no emotional burns. For a long time, it had been enough. Angel, after all, could never hurt her again as much as he already had.
But he could still hurt her.
It sucks to be me, she thought bitterly.
Willow and Xander were both in California, improving their healthy, normal relationships. Giles was climbing the walls, trying to make sure they could triumph in this latest battle. So, really, she had to talk to Dawn or Spike, or both of them. There was no one else.
Or, she didn't have to talk to anyone. She could keep it all inside, just another weight pressing her down.
Buffy still didn't move, just stared longingly, wishing that she could teleport, be there with them, the story already told, giggling and silly like they had been when she'd come home from Italy.
Home.
The Slayer put a hand over her mouth, covering a sob. She wanted to go home so badly.
The door opened and a pale figure in black pants appeared, dark eyes coming to focus directly on her. Spike took a breath, like a man preparing to lift a burden, and strode out to her, bare feet sure in the patches of gray snow. 'Love,' he said, nothing more, and held out a hand. She took it, let herself be pulled against his surprising warm bare chest, let herself be led to the door, where Dawn waited, looking at her anxiously.
'Are you okay? Spike said he felt you.' Dawn's eyes examined her, looking for injuries.
Buffy swallowed, still pressed against Spike's side, and found that she was able to be brave now. 'I'm fine.'
Dawn snorted, managing to look superior despite her bed-head. 'Sure, you're fine, standing out in the cold, all in black, looking like some goth-tard.'
'Hey,' Spike said, giving her a narrow look.
'Oh, not you,' Dawn said, pointedly not rolling her eyes. 'You're only half-dressed in black. Let's go back up.' She shivered. 'It's cold down here.'
They were doing it again, weaving a net of jokes and unconscious caring, making her feel like things weren't all that bad. But they were bad, very bad, as bad as it could get without souls being lost.
'Mrs. Hanley?' Spike called, knocking on the door on the second-floor landing. It opened almost immediately. 'Lo, love. Couldn't help but smell that delicious spice cake.'
Pleasure lit the rheumy eyes behind the thick lenses of her glasses. 'Why, thank you, dear. Would you like to come in and – my, William,' she said, laying a hand on her bony chest, 'where is your shirt?' Buffy had a tiny green moment; it seemed even very elderly women couldn't keep their eyes off her vampire's body.
'I'm terribly sorry for my state of undress,' he said, his voice courteous and suspiciously non-North London. Buffy shot a look at Dawn, who subtly mimed throwing up. 'We can't come in just now. This is Dawn's sister Buffy, who's quite upset. Would you be so kind as to entertain Clem with a visit and some cake while we talk with her?'
'Oh, of course not, dear. Clem is such a sweet young man.' She tutted a little, shaking her head. 'It's a terrible shame about his condition.'
'Indeed,' Spike agreed gravely. 'He'll be down in just a few moments. I do envy him a taste of your baking.'
On the third landing, after waving at Mrs. Petrowksy and her dog, Dawn said in an obnoxious tone touched with envy, 'How do you just turn that on?'
'What? Manners?' Spike shot back.
'No. The civilized thing.'
'Pet, I was civilized before your great-greats were born. Got over it, mostly.'
'I think it's a vampire trick,' she grumbled, opening the door. 'You two, off to bed. I'll be there after I talk to Clem.'
'B-bed?' Buffy asked.
'Little knackered, but hard to sleep with the energy before the battle. Bit was being sweet, napping with me.'
'Oh.' She nodded at Clem and trailed after Spike, envying her sister's ease with the vampire. That's why he'd been warm. The Slayer slowed a little, wondering if her presence had woken him from a sound sleep. That was actually kind of awesome, so she decided she'd better not think about it. 'I haven't been here before,' she said, stopping at the door.
'No.' Many shades of meaning in the single word. He continued, his voice lighter, both formal and sardonic. 'I invite you in.'
She smiled. There, he'd done it. The first thing her eyes fell on were framed pictures on his dresser. One was of her and Dawn from earlier in the fall, but the other… She went straight to it. 'Who is this?'
'My moth – me mum.'
Buffy looked up, brows raised. 'It is?'
'Giles tracked it down, gave it to me couple of days ago for a Christmas present.'
She picked it up and examined the little figures. 'Spike… is this you?'
'Yeah.'
'You were adorable!' She glanced up in time to see him look pained.
'When was he adorable?' Dawn demanded, coming in. She turned to Spike and added, 'Clem's gone.'
Buffy held out the portrait. 'This is Spike when he was a baby, on his mom's lap. Giles found it for him for Christmas.'
'Aww!' A foolish smile spread over her face. 'Look at those curls! You were precious!' Spike winced. 'Why didn't you show this to me before?'
'Possibly to avoid hearing the word 'precious,' he said sourly. His expression, though, was soft as he watched the sisters, their heads bent close together.
'Your mother looks so… nice,' Buffy said, knowing the word was lame.
'She was. She would have loved the pair of you.'
The last word was a caress, and Buffy looked past her sister to meet Spike's eyes. She could imagine meeting William's mother without any nervousness; a woman who had raised a son as loving as he was couldn't possibly be intimidating. He would have burst with pride and happiness to have the most important women in his life meet.
Spike held his breath at the dreamy smile on her face, her beautiful face, dying a little inside as it faded and was replaced by pain. She relinquished the frame to Dawn and turned away. 'Kitten?' he asked.
'Mothers and sons,' she said, cupping her elbows, thinking of the other portrait she had seen. 'Seems to be the theme today.'
'What?' Dawn said, staring between them.
Spike walked up behind Buffy and put his hands on her waist, dropping a kiss on her hair. 'Glad he told you.'
'Did you tell him to?'
'Strongly suggested it.'
'Tell you what?'
Spike tensed, but before he could think up a diversion, Buffy answered.
'Guess what? Angel has a son.'
'He what?'
'Pretty much my reaction.'
Dawn's eyes went to Spike. 'Did you know?'
'Found out a few hours ago.'
'Holy shit.'
'Language, Bit,' Spike said absently.
Buffy closed her eyes at the exchange. Mothers and sons and fathers and daughters, too.
'A vampire makes a baby? That's news! I can't believe you didn't tell me.'
'Not mine to share.' Blue eyes bore into blue eyes; she well knew he didn't give away secrets.
Dawn backed off. 'Oh. Of course not.'
'If anyone should hear this story,' Buffy said wearily, 'it's probably Dawn.'
Spike frowned for a second. 'You're right,' he replied, discovery in his tone. Then he firmed his mouth. 'Secret's out; nothing to do about it except make sure it doesn't go any further.' He grabbed a black t-shirt from the floor. 'Let's go talk about it on the couch. Probably the real reason you came, yeah? Just for the famous couch.'
Buffy smiled again, following the pair back into the living room. Dawn had told her once she'd laugh more if she chose Spike. Her sister was, she was discovering, quite wise.
'Clem left some tortilla chips, if anyone wants any.' Dawn put them on the table and sat down in the middle, leaving both blonds irritated and relieved that they wouldn't be side-by-side. 'So, how does a vampire get a son?'
Spike started, telling how Angel had broached the topic, this time leaving out the development in Aurelian leadership in the interest of time and simplicity. Buffy picked up the tale, finding that she grew calmer as she heard the facts again.
'So, I just left,' she finished. 'I was upset. I mean, who wouldn't be? If he didn't think that a child was important enough to share, what else isn't he sharing?'
'Well?' Dawn said, giving Spike a sharp look.
'What? Don't look at me. Dunno what he's been up to for most of the past century. Peaches doesn't share secrets with me, either. Obviously.'
'Maybe I'm just not important enough to share things with.' Buffy looked at her hands.
'No, Buffy, don't think that.' Dawn patted her hand.
'Remember when we didn't talk, after I came back? How bad was that?' She rolled her eyes at the rhetorical question. 'I mean, even I learned not to keep secrets, and I'm like one-eighth his age.'
'One-ninth, but who's counting?'
She glanced past Dawn but ignored Spike's comment. 'How do I face him after this?'
'Don't have to,' Spike said helpfully.
'What do you mean, how do you face him? How can he face you? On his knees, I'm thinking. On a really clean floor that he's scrubbed for you.'
Buffy looked at her sister. Dawn expected that she was going back to the apartment, back to Angel. 'I'm overreacting?' she asked, her words measured.
'No, you're not. He needs to pay with, like, lots of dinners out at expensive restaurants. You shouldn't cook for a month. A-and you'll need foot massages.'
'Am I overreacting? I mean, he did have reasons to keep his son a secret, at least while he was at the law firm. But he should have told me – just out of professional courtesy, if nothing else. Should I forgive him? What do you think, Spike?'
'I think, Slayer, if you ask me for relationship advice again, I will stop talking to you entirely.' His voice was pleasant enough, but his jaw was tight and his eyes were like ice chips.
Dawn shook her head, disregarding the two blotches of color on her sister's pale cheeks. 'Yeah, Buffy. Tactless much? Like Spike can give you an unbiased opinion.' She flopped back against the couch. 'I think you should definitely stay mad at him, but be nice to this kid. It isn't his fault his father is a jerk.'
Not looking at the silent vampire, Buffy nodded, remembering that she'd just described her sister as wise in her own mind a little while ago. 'That also keeps me from making any decisions I'll regret later.'
There was a noise from the far end of the couch that could have been a derisive snort. 'Sneezed,' Spike said, smiling falsely. 'Excuse me. No, wouldn't want to make any decisions, now would we?'
Dawn turned away from her sister to stare at him, missing the way Buffy flinched. 'What's your problem? You're not helping.'
'Don't exactly want to help, do I?' He stood from the couch, agitated, the muscles in his arms standing out. Buffy looked down at his tightly clenched hands. 'Bit, this isn't an isolated incident. It's a way of thinking.' He could see the Slayer's eyes narrow from where she was just on the edge of his peripheral vision.
'I don't get it.'
Spike turned away. 'I love Liam, I do, I – He's the only brother I'll ever have. But he will always know what's best for you, and he will do what he can to make what's best for you happen, and he will never, ever ask you if that's what you want.' He stopped and looked at the ceiling. 'Shouldn't even say this,' he muttered, shaking his head. 'Did he ask his son what he wanted? Did he consider coming to Giles, or consulting Faith, people who have experience with headcases who can rip their way out of handcuffs? Did he ask Charlie or Fred or Wes or Lorne if they wanted to forget?' Spike looked at the floor, then met Dawn's eyes, could not be paid enough to meet Buffy's. 'Doesn't matter how much it hurts him or what the consequences are for other people. He will do what's best, by his lights, and he will never ask, or consult, or confer, or – Fuck it.'
Dawn watched him stride away, not about to hazard a 'language' comment. She looked at her knees for a moment, then glanced at Buffy. 'Spike has good insight into people.'
'I know,' she said, her voice small.
'Buffy, you know you don't have to…' Dawn began before her cell phone interrupted her. She moved the bag of tortilla chips and found it on the table, checking the number. Making an impatient mouth, she muttered, 'Sorry, Buffy, just a minute.'
'I should go talk to him.' She sighed and stood up. Dawn was talking to Kayla, apparently. She was halfway down the hall when she heard another cell phone, then Spike say quietly, 'Lo, love.'
Buffy stopped. The ringtone was 'Pretty Woman,' which meant one of 'his' slayers. She wondered if she was lumped in with all the rest. Closing her eyes, tired and so sad, she leaned against the wall, waiting.
Before Spike finished his conversation, Dawn's phone beebled again, and her sister said hello to Tribby. Just as she heard her vampire's phone snap shut, it rang again, and he greeted another slayer with, 'Hey, pet.' Buffy gritted her teeth and tried to think of someplace she could go other than to Giles' house.
Dawn came down the hallway, simply grabbed Buffy's arm and pulled her along, maneuvering her into Spike's bedroom again just as he was hanging up. 'Kayla and Tribby,' she said.
'Ro and Vi,' he answered. When Buffy raised her eyebrows at the shorthand, he elaborated. 'Apparently Giles sent out the call for people who wanted to volunteer to give up their holiday. They wanted to know how serious he was.'
'Yeah, could he not vague it up more? 'If you feel that you are able to suspend your holidays?' Please.'
A smile tugged one corner of Buffy's mouth up. 'He really said that?'
'Wrote it, anyway.' Dawn turned off her phone, then took Spike's and did the same. 'I'm tired of this.' She gave her best friend a look. 'You, with the language?' Dawn turned to Buffy. 'And you, with the moping?' She crossed her arms. 'Talk. Now. I'll referee. And,' she quickly held up a hand to belay any protest before recrossing her arms, 'there's nothing I don't know about. I'm just here to keep you honest – and from killing each other. You first, Spike,' she sent him a mean look, 'since you know so many interesting words.'
He gave her a murderous glare, then caved. She almost always had better instincts than him. He looked at the floor, at his bare feet, his chest rising and falling in a shallow rhythm. 'Seeing you in pain, Slayer, makes me… It makes me so mad, 'cause it doesn't have to be this way, if you weren't so stubborn, or blind, or,' he threw his hands up, 'whatever it is. And I feel like I'm bound, like I've still got a chip in my head making me bloody useless, 'cause I can't say anything without betraying someone I really do care about.' He put a hand over his still heart. 'I'm the one that doesn't hurt you, Slayer. So when are you going to get your fill of bein' hurt?'
Buffy's lips parted, and she stared at him. She hardly needed Dawn's quiet, 'Your turn,' to jump in.
'I don't know if it ever occurred to you, Mr. Perfect, but I'm happy with An–'
'No,' he said, deep, and was in her face before Dawn had time to blink, 'you aren't.'
She didn't back off. 'Maybe things aren't perfect, but it's good–'
'It's easy.'
'–and it doesn't hurt.'
'Which is why you're here,' he leaned on the words, sarcastic, 'not hurting.'
'What makes you think that if I leave Angel, I'll come to you?' she spat. 'You know, I don't need a man.'
'M'not a man, Buffy.'
Dawn watched them, fascinated and more than a little scared by what she had unleashed. They glared at each other, almost nose to nose, Spike looming over the Slayer, Buffy toe-to-toe with him, her chin thrust out. She had the sense that whole conversations were taking place, that each knew exactly what the other was thinking, thought after thought.
'I don't have to be with anyone,' Buffy finally said.
'I do,' he said, soft. 'I'm lonely. Not alone,' he said, sending Dawn a look of acknowledgement, 'but I need to be with someone.' He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a second. 'Stupid soul. Maybe it's finally about me.' Somehow he found space that he wasn't already occupying and moved closer to her. 'Want you to be my someone. If you can't do it for yourself, kitten, will you do it for me?'
Buffy blinked, staring into his darkened eyes as he stood before her, as vulnerable as he had ever been. He was putting it on her again, and she didn't want to be in this position, didn't want to make a decision. She had made one, a big one, and all she wanted was to drift along in that same direction. Was that too much to ask? After all she'd been through, couldn't the Powers That Be just grant that one wish? And couldn't Spike just leave her in the fog, where it was comfortable and quiet?
Dawn stood apart from them, biting fiercely on her lower lip so she wouldn't say anything, silently urging her sister to just say yes. One little word; then Buffy could take her time, if she could stay out of his bed, anyway, could slowly let him build a life for her, a life that would include her sister for a change. And if Buffy wanted it now, Spike would take care of the hard things. Heck, she'd be willing to go tell Angel herself.
The silence stretched out, and Buffy dropped her eyes. Spike lifted his head, straightening his shoulders, staring past Buffy. Dawn felt her own shoulders slump.
Then, fast and unexpected like the predator he was, Spike swooped down, back into the Slayer's space, and kissed her. Watching, Dawn's lips parted. She'd never seen anything so gentle, never seen him show so much restraint in any other part of his life.
He lifted his head, pulling away from Buffy. 'Get out.'
Dazed, she opened her eyes, finding that her hands were resting on his chest. 'What?'
'We're done here. Dawnie, you can schedule us together for patrol. Why not? She's not my Slayer. Girl I fell in love with, she was strong. God, was she strong. Thing I loved most about her.'
Dawn raised her eyebrows a mite. Something had occurred to Spike; she could see the calculation on his face. He had come up with a plan, seldom a good thing.
'Wh-what?' The Slayer was too frozen to blink.
'Strong.' He stepped in again, intense, right in Buffy's face. 'Remember that feeling? Girl I fell in love with, I kissed her like that, she woulda thrown me on the bed, thrown her sister out, and had me beggin' for–' He glanced at Dawn and grimaced. 'Had me beggin' for mercy.' He closed his eyes and shook his head for a frustrated moment. 'Girl I fell in love with, some guy lied to her for four bloody years, she'd have kicked him to the curb and not looked back, would have known,' his volume went up to eleven, 'exactly whose fault that was.' He took a step back from Buffy. 'She wouldn't need anyone to tell her.'
Tears stood in Buffy's eyes. She tried to not blink, but she did anyway, and they rolled down her cheeks. 'That girl doesn't exist anymore. So sorry to disappoint you. There's just too much pain, and it's so hard–'
'Girl I loved was never a victim,' he shot back. 'She took a breath, grabbed her fear with those powerful little hands, and made it work for her. I started whinging about something, she'd grab me and tell me to stop acting like an ass.' He moved in again, and Dawn realized he was weaving as if he was in a physical fight. 'God, I miss that girl. Got my heart with her, wherever she is.'
'She's gone,' Buffy whispered fiercely. 'I'm not a girl anymore. I'm a grown woman.'
'For God's sake, Buffy,' he roared, 'I'm goin' on my soddin' thirteenth decade, and I'm not grown up.'
'I can tell. Grownups accept that they don't always get what they want, Spike. Only spoiled children expect that.'
He stood up very straight, as if she had pushed him back, whatever plan he had forgotten. 'Spoiled?'
Dawn sucked in a breath. That was Spike's sore spot, rational or not. He felt he'd had to fight for every inch of progress when others got destiny delivered to them on a silver platter. She hadn't seen the vampire this angry since he demolished half a cemetery just after Buffy died. 'Okay, guys,' she broke in, 'that's enough.'
'Dawn, take your sister and get her out of here.' He turned away, his motions jerky, and peeled off the t-shirt.
'Spike, what are you doing?' Dawn asked, worried.
'Getting dressed so I can pick up Charlie at the airport.' He glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. 'Or, stay. I don't really care.' He tucked his thumbs in the elastic waistband of his pajama pants and stripped them down.
Dawn turned to the door hastily. 'Come on, Buffy.'
The Slayer stared at Spike with narrow, angry eyes, easily resisting the tug on her arm. 'I'm not a victim, and you're acting like an ass. I'm happy with my life.'
He paused, one of the drawers to his dresser half-open, knowing exactly what ass her gaze was resting on. 'Once more with feeling, love.' It was her turn to draw back, wounded.
Even Dawn half-turned at that. 'Spike!' she hissed, appalled.
'If you want me, Buffy, you'll have to win me all over again.' He yanked out another t-shirt, exactly like the one he'd just taken off. 'I'm done talking.' His wide shoulders drooped a little. 'Sorry about the fight, Bit. Didn't mean for you to ever see that again.'
She shook her head and pulled on her sister's arm again, dragging Buffy out into the hall. They stopped just inside the living room, and she met her sister's wide hazel eyes, full of tears and anger and distress. Then the Slayer turned and dashed through the closest door, into the bathroom. Dawn closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples, listening to her sister vomit into the toilet. Making herself calm, she took a shallow breath and went in to kneel beside her.
Buffy pulled a few sheets of paper from the roll and blew her nose, then spat into the bowl a couple of times before flushing it. An agonized expression on her face, she looked at Dawn, then just crumpled. Dawn caught her, letting her sob, her own tears trailing down her cheeks, dripping off her nose. 'Well,' she finally said, 'that was ugly.'
'I'm sorry, Dawnie.' Buffy pulled away and got more toilet paper, blowing her nose again. 'You shouldn't have to see this.'
'Like Mom and Dad before the divorce.' Dawn's voice was bright with malice. 'I remember they used to apologize for their fighting, too.'
'He was willing to die for her, Dawnie,' Buffy said, gasping for breath between the sobs. 'He offered his life for her, and he wouldn't even stay in Sunnydale for me.'
Buffy was talking about the other vampire, Dawn realized, about Angel being willing to give his life for Darla, thus earning the life that became his son. She didn't know what to say, so she just rubbed her sister's back. 'Shh.'
'All this time, I thought, you know, if only… And now we can, and I'm thinking that maybe what I always believed was wrong, that maybe he never felt the same way that I did, and what I thought I've always wanted is just not the same as…' She sniffled, swallowing and forcing her chin to stop trembling.
'It's going to be fine, Buffy.' Or it would if Buffy would ever realize she wasn't in love with Angel any longer.
'And now he doesn't even want to look at me.'
Back to the blond vampire, Dawn assumed. 'Shh. It's okay.'
No more tears; they didn't help, anyway. She shrugged. 'I-it just hit me hard. I guess I always thought he'd just be there, that he'd always want me.'
'What?' Stunned, Dawn moved back enough to examine her sister's face.
The Slayer closed her eyes, more tears forcing their way out. 'It's over. I mean, I guess it's been over since before Sunnydale… you know? But not like this, not–'
'Buffy, you're my sister. I love you very much. But you're an idiot.'
'Wh-what?'
'A mental defective.' Dawn spoke very slowly. 'A dumb blond.' When Buffy goggled at her, she let out a sigh. 'Spike still wants you. He is always going to want you, until he goes to dust. When you're older than Mrs. Petrowsky, he'll want you. I don't know what he was trying to do, exactly, but he practically begged you to step up and take what's yours.' Dawn dashed her own tears away with an angry gesture. 'Didn't you hear a word he said?'
'He said I wasn't his Slayer.'
'God, Buffy.' She shook her head and stood up, holding out a hand. 'Come on. Off the floor.' Dawn helped her sister up. 'Listen, give me two minutes. I'll get some real clothes on, and I'm out the door. I'll pick up Charles, and you two can hash things out in private. Just go back in there,' she said, giving her sister a wan smile, 'and be his Slayer.' Buffy's eyes were enormous, and tearstained or not, she was beautiful, Dawn thought ruefully.
'I–' She looked down, her blond hair spilling around her face, covering her expression. 'I'm not just going to go from one man to another one. I don't need to have a man in my life.'
'Like you so don't already have two?'
'If Spike really wanted me, he could just order Angel to leave.'
'Because you would be so happy with him if he did that? Anyway, he can't anymore. You know that.' When Buffy looked blank, she went on. 'Spike made Angel co-chair of the Aurelians last night, or whatever they call it.'
'He did what?'
'Spike's not his boss anymore – another thing I guess he didn't tell you.' Dawn shook her head impatiently when her sister didn't show any reaction. 'Whatever. Look, if you leave here without talking to Spike, you'll go back to Angel. You know you will… from one man to another. Aren't you going to at least call him on it?'
Before she could answer, both women tensed at the sound of a door opening. Spike strode down the hallway, stopping outside the bathroom. 'Bit, sorry to run out during a crisis. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Charlie's flight gets in at noon.'
'You heard,' Dawn accused.
'Overheard,' he agreed, unconcerned. 'We're all quite aware that I'm a vampire.' His gaze flicked to Buffy. Her head was bowed. Spike waited five seconds, then five more, counting them off silently. 'See you around.' He grabbed his coat from the rack, let himself out, and was in his truck before it was too much, before he couldn't hold it inside any longer. He stretched out over the bench seat, out of anyone's view, and wept for the pain he'd caused her, for his own pain.
In the apartment, Buffy dried her tears. 'You're right. I've got to get back.'
'No, Buffy.' Her voice was quiet. 'You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.'
'All right. I want to go back.'
'That was a really shitty thing Angel did.'
She shrugged. 'I haven't told him about you.'
'That's different. You can't tell him about me.'
'I know. I'm just saying, who am I to judge?'
'Angel is aware of my existence, Buffy. The monks actually built me into his memory, because he was a part of your life. Don't let him get away with not telling you about parts of his.'
'I won't.' She sounded composed, almost looked composed again. 'I promise I'll talk to him.'
⸹
'You're quiet today,' Gunn commented, holding his hands out to the heat blasting from the truck vents. When Spike didn't reply, he glanced over. When the blond vampire drove, his attention was usually on his passenger, who was lucky if he was using only one hand to gesture. Now Spike was staring at the road ahead of them, both hands resting on the wheel. Gunn leaned over and glanced at the dashboard. 'Spike, you do know you're doing the speed limit, don't you?'
'What?' He glanced down at the speedometer and actually eased off the accelerator. 'Sorry, mate. Mind's somewhere else.'
'What 'else?'
He sighed. 'Good thing the Council is putting you up at the Ritz-Carlton. Buffy and Angel had a fight this morning. Buffy came over to cry on her sister's shoulder, then I had a fight with Buffy.' His mouth tightened. 'She was hurting, and I added to it.'
'Why were they fighting?'
'Uh,' he hedged, 'I don't know.'
'Man, are you a bad liar.'
'Can't tell you, Charlie.'
He waved a hand. 'That's okay.'
'So, how're things in Washington?'
'Falls Church,' Gunn corrected, 'Mr. Change-the-subject guy. And they're very good.'
'What's her name?'
'What makes you think there's a woman involved?'
'If things were merely 'good,' couldn't be a woman. It's a woman makes things very good, innit? – or very bad. 'Sides, you told Tribby you met an old flame.'
'I forgot you were living with her.'
'We share a flat,' Spike clarified, 'and you're avoiding the subject.'
'It's complicated,' Gunn admitted. 'I'm learning the law, and she's bending it.'
'Bending it to the breaking point?' Spike raised an interested eyebrow.
'Sometimes.'
'She another brief?'
'Lord, no.' He tried to imagine Gwen addressing a jury and shivered.
'So, she the one?'
'Uh, no. I figure she'll dump me before too long.'
Both eyebrows went up this time. 'She must be quite something.'
'Oh, yeah,' he said emphatically. 'I would have regretted it the rest of my life if I hadn't hooked up with her again, but she's not the type you could settle down with.'
'There you go, categorizing women again.'
'Not Gwen. She's in a class by herself.'
⸹
Buffy let herself in quietly, closing the door behind her and locking it. She had walked for over an hour before heading home – before heading back to the apartment, she corrected herself.
'Buffy?' Angel came out of the bedroom, dressed and wearing a leather jacket.
'Where are you going?'
'Nowhere. Not yet, anyway. Connor's plane gets in at five.'
She nodded. 'Angel? Before either of us says anything that starts the fight again,' she turned and began hanging her coat, not wanting to look at him, 'is there anything else you want to tell me? Anything that happened, anything major that I might, as your significant other, want to know about before it gets tossed at me like a grenade?'
'Before either of us says anything to start a fight?'
'Angel.'
He heard the warning in her tone and honestly tried to think of anything else. 'No. There's nothing else, Buffy.'
She nodded again. 'So, the fact that just today you stopped being Spike's peon and became co-chair of the Order of Aurelius,' she gritted her teeth for a moment, 'that wouldn't be of any interest to me, as your lover or as the Slayer?'
Angel became very still, then closed his eyes. 'I didn't think about–'
'You didn't think that was important? That I might not be relieved to know he couldn't just order you to leave?'
'He wouldn't do that,' Angel replied, 'and I really didn't think about it. Everything else pales next to the fact that I get to see Connor in a few hours. That's what's on my mind, Buffy. Not the Order of Aurelius.'
'You love him. You're his father.' She said the words, understood what she was saying, understood where that put her in his hierarchy.
Angel smiled. 'I do. You don't know what it's like. Someone who's completely dependent on you, then they grow up and become this incredible person. It's just amazing, Buffy.'
Dawn, she thought, a part of her from her blood to her soul, who had been so small and vulnerable and now was managing adulthood better than she was. 'No,' she agreed in a dead voice, 'how could I know what that's like?'
He froze again. 'Buffy… I'm not good at this, at being with people. I was alone for a hundred years; before that, I lived little better than an animal, like a tiger in a jungle. It seems like I say things that seem fine in my thoughts, but they hurt you when I get them out.' He came forward, his eyes on her face. 'I do love you. You're my inspiration, so good and so strong.' Angel took her hands in his, stroked his thumbs across her knuckles. 'After this is over, these battles, let's get out of here, away from the pressure of being part of the Council. We can go back to California, find a place–'
'To California, where Connor is.'
He paused, not sure of her mood. 'Yes. I won't have him for long, Buffy. You're human, so you don't know… You wouldn't believe how quickly the time passes. And I've already lost so many years with him.'
She had heard the same thing before, words almost identical in a deeper voice. Spike had said them about her. Stark, black and white, the difference between the two men. It had nothing to do with personalities or histories or worthiness. The difference was that the person Angel loved most in the world was not her, or even Darla. It was his son, whom he hadn't even told her existed.
Buffy pulled her hands away and gave him a small smile. 'Angel, let's get past this battle, let you have a visit with,' she swallowed, 'with Connor while Dawn and I are in Illinois. We'll talk about everything when I get back.'
⸹
'Will you settle down, mate? You get much more agitated, Homeland Security will be giving you a body cavity search in a tiny room somewhere.'
'The plane landed almost ten minutes ago,' Angel said, craning his neck. 'What could be taking so long?'
'Short staff at the charter hangar? Landed at the far end of the terminal? He'll be here, Angel.'
The big vampire stilled suddenly, his whole body turning slightly to the left. Spike wanted to scan the crowd, too, to see if he could spot his grandsire's get, but he couldn't look away from Angel. He'd never seen such naked love on the other man's face. Spike's eyes crinkled at the corners; despite everything on this very long day, he had to smile to see Peaches so happy.
'Connor!' Angel yelled, holding his hand high, waving. He was grinning, and began to make his way toward his son, his broad form parting the crowd like the prow of a boat cutting through water.
'Hey,' Connor said, and then, 'Oof!'
Angel grabbed him in a fierce embrace, his eyes closed tightly. 'Connor.'
When several seconds passed and he didn't let go, Connor patted his back awkwardly. 'Um… Dad?'
Spike hooked his fingers under Angel's biceps. 'Been talking to him about inappropriate public displays of affection,' he said, 'but hasn't made any difference so far. Name's Spike. Nice to meet you.'
As Angel took a step back, completely unembarrassed, Connor's eyes focused on the other blond and became narrow. 'You're a… You're one, too.'
'You can sense it, huh? No worries. Got my soul a few years ago.'
Angel was still staring at Connor, smiling, as he threw an arm over Spike's shoulders. 'This is your Uncle Will.'
'Uh,' Connor said, trying to mesh this physical affection with what he knew of his father's austere habits and his past, 'uncle?'
Spike rolled his eyes and pushed Angel away. 'Honestly, Peaches.' Then he heard his own words and clenched his jaw. Could they come off any more as stereotypes? 'He's trying to say we're family. I'm Drusilla's; he's my grandsire.' He held out a hand. 'And it's Spike, just Spike.'
'Yeah, I remember you from Wolfram and Hart.'
They traded grips, sizing up each other. Connor saw a slender man who looked dangerous even next to his hulking father. Spike, satisfied with the strength of the boy's hand, saw something else.
'You look like your mother,' he said, his voice soft with wonder. Then he let go of the human's warm fingers and gave his head a little shake. 'You got the best of the genetic pool.' He jerked his head toward Angel. 'Wouldn't want that hair.'
'He's always like this,' Angel said fondly. He looked at both of them in turn, feeling very much the father. Connor, taking after Darla in stature, too, was not quite as tall as Spike. Tow-headed, strong, and rebellious – it was no wonder he'd sometimes fallen back on the harsh measures he'd favored as Angelus when dealing with his second go-round as sire to a young warrior.
'No one else has the stones to puncture his dignity.'
'You've got more than your fair share,' Angel shot back, 'of stupidity, not stones.
Spike was saved from answering when his mobile went off. 'Slayer,' he said by way of explanation.
'Uh, let's go get my suitcase.' Connor led the way to luggage claim, Angel by his side, Spike trailing behind them.
'Good flight?'
'Yes.' He grinned. 'Really nice. I've never been in a private jet before.'
'Well, it's just a lease. Not mine, I mean, the Council's.'
'So, this is the Council of Watchers that Wesley used to work for?'
'No. This Council is nothing like the one that he worked for. There's a new head, Rupert Giles.'
'I remember that name,' Connor said. 'He was Buffy Summers' Watcher.'
'That's right,' Angel said, grinning. He took a breath. 'I can't tell you how happy I am that you remember.'
Connor looked away from the open love. 'I… I don't remember you ever being this…'
'Emotional?'
'Yeah.'
'Something changed. I lost my soul again, and when Willow put it back, she modified the curse so that there's no happiness clause.'
Connor stopped walking and stared up at him. 'She – When did this happen?'
'Just a few months ago.'
'How did–' you lose your soul? he started to ask, but a rich chuckle interrupted him.
Tribby, with exquisite timing, had sent Spike a text message. 'Esteban trying 2 fix me up w stepbrother. Posit: my family most warped on earth. Discuss.' Attached was a picture, which he shared with Angel. 'Tribs got set up on a blind date,' he explained.
Angel looked at the picture, then looked some more. Any picture of a slayer in a bikini was worth seeing. He took in the man standing next to her and laughed, too. 'She'd snap him like a twig.' Esteban's son – or possibly his stepson from another marriage – was a walking stereotype, a sleaze from central casting, with black hair slicked back from a receding hairline, several gold medallions resting on his hairy chest, and tiny red Speedos on his skinny hips. They were on a beach with pastel buildings in the background.
Spike politely turned the little screen so Connor could see. 'Whoa,' the boy said.
'Tribby, slayer I live with,' he said, tossing out the het credential with no small measure of relief, 'in Miami visitin' her mum.'
'Um,' Connor hedged, backing off, 'she's… pretty.'
Spike turned the phone back and glanced down at the picture. 'Yeah.' He smiled and shook his head, snapping the cell shut. Angel, recovering from his bout of bliss, gave him an assessing look. Then he pushed it from his mind; they had talked about the 'fledge' bit already.
'There's my bag,' Connor said, and Angel was already there, shouldering it.
'Let's go,' he said, beaming at the two shorter men, and they started walking to the parking garage.
'Well, s'pose I should give you the official Council welcome,' Spike began.
'He's a Watcher,' Angel interrupted.
Connor's eyebrows went up, thinking of Wesley's rigid background. 'I guess the Council has changed.'
'Yeah, all down to Rupes,' Spike said fondly. 'Anyway, got a room for you at the Ritz-Carlton–'
'But you can stay with me,' Angel interrupted in a hopeful tone.
'–and Charlie's already there.'
'Charlie?'
'Gunn,' Angel supplied.
'Gunn,' Connor breathed, a smile breaking over his face. Then he compressed his lips. 'I guess he doesn't…?'
'No. He doesn't remember. Spike knows.'
'Peaches just told me this morning. Figure we'll just tell folks you're one of the good guys Angel knew from California – which is true.'
'Okay. So, I'll call you Angel.'
The dark-haired man looked away, not pleased with the loss of his title. 'I guess it's for the best.'
'Anyone else I know here?'
'No. Gunn's the only one left.'
'Lorne's out there, somewhere,' Spike added.
'And whatever is left of Fred,' Connor said.
'Illyria went through a portal to another dimension that last day at Wolfram and Hart.'
'Saved our lives,' Spike said, unusually somber. 'Charlie nearly didn't make it.'
'You said 'the most powerful white witch alive,' Connor pressed. 'Did you mean Willow?'
'Right, Willow. She won't remember you, either, though,' he warned. 'She'll be here for the battle. She's actually in California right now, but she can teleport in seconds.' There was a certain pride in Angel's voice that made Spike smile again.
'Anyone else I've heard of?'
'Rupert Giles, the Head of the Council, is here,' Spike said.
'We haven't heard yet if Faith can come,' Angel mused. Then he smacked himself in the head. 'And Buffy! How could I forget Buffy?'
'Buffy is here?' Connor asked, amused. 'Cordy was always so catty about her.'
The good humor faded from Angel's face at the mention of Cordelia, and he looked away from Connor. 'Buffy knows about you, too,' Spike said, and before he could add Dawn's name, Angel let out a sigh that drew Connor's attention.
'I'm living with Buffy. We're together.'
'Oh.' Connor absorbed this, watching his feet for a few seconds. 'I'm glad it worked out for you two.' He looked back up at his father. 'Is that how you lost your soul, when Willow modified the curse?'
'Yes,' he said, not looking at Spike. 'It was sort of… controlled circumstances.'
Connor caught how uncomfortable the topic made him and turned to Spike. 'So, you've known him a long time?'
'Knew Angelus first twenty years of my unlife,' Spike agreed in a bright voice, 'and I have to tell you, I hate the bastard.'
'Something we have in common,' Connor said flatly. They exchanged a look, the accord almost enough to make them friends.
'Knew Angel a bit before your mum banished him, 'round the time I killed my first Slayer – train 'em now, that's what I do for the Council, funny old world, innit? – but I only really got to know him when I got shackled to Wolfram and Hart as a ghost last year – don't ask; we don't have time to go into that story.'
'Your first Slayer?' Connor reassessed the blond vampire. 'How many have you killed?'
'Two,' Angel said, full of pride, 'one-on-one combat, no mesmer or anything.'
'Or three,' Spike said, letting out his air through his nose, 'depending on how forgiving you are.' He shook it off. 'Here we are.' He clicked the remote, unlocking the truck.
Angel put Connor's suitcase in the back of the cab, then waited until Connor got in. He found himself flanked on either side by a vampire. It set his nerves on edge, even if one of them was his father. 'So, is that how you got cursed with a soul? For killing Slayers?'
'It's no curse,' Angel said quickly. 'He faced trials and fought to earn his soul.'
'Woman I loved died,' Spike said, warmed by Angel's words, as he backed out of the parking space, 'and left her baby sis in my care. Couldn't raise a teenager without a moral compass, so I went to Africa and jumped through hoops for a powerful demon until I got what I went for.'
Connor glanced at his father, who nodded proudly. His initial protest – what kind of idiot would entrust a child to a demon? – was forgotten. 'But… you're a vampire.' All the hatred that Holz had taught him was still there, too. A demon could never want a soul.
'Spike was always–'
'Careful, there.'
'–atypical,' Angel finished diplomatically.
'You wanted your soul?' He couldn't help asking.
'I needed it,' Spike said with dignity. 'Mine, anyway, yeah?'
'There's not a lot a parent won't do for his child,' Angel said. Connor turned and met his eyes for a moment.
'Dawn's not my child,' Spike muttered, with very little conviction. 'She knows, too, by the way. Buffy told her.'
'She knows everything,' Angel said, shaking his head.
'Dawn won't tell anyone,' Spike said, 'so that's just the four of us. You don't have to be ashamed in front of anyone else.'
Angel snaked a hand behind Connor and smacked the side of Spike's head, making the blond man chuckle. With anyone else, Connor would have warned him not to distract the driver, but he was beginning to think that it didn't matter with Spike at the wheel.
Connor was reeling. With his memories restored, he thought he was comfortable in the world that acknowledged demons. But a vampire, one of his father's line, wanting a soul… Not even Lorne, one of the most civilized people he'd ever met of any species, had wanted a soul – but, then, he'd never had one. 'I guess,' he said, deciding to drop the subject, 'I should ask about this battle.'
Angel went through the history of what they knew, ending with the run-up to this one. 'So, we've really had very little trouble containing the demons, but because everyone's gone out of town for Christmas, we're shorthanded. The horde won't descend on the site until the energy gets stronger, and since it isn't tonight, it will almost definitely be tomorrow night.' He smiled. 'I'm glad it's held off a day; it means we'll get a chance to visit.'
'Do you still have the weapons cabinet? I don't have any with me – I don't have any at all, these days.'
Angel felt a pang at the reminder of his lost weapons. 'There's an armory at the training center.'
'We'll take you there tomorrow. You can have your pick, mate.' Spike turned into the alley by Angel's apartment. 'We'll be going to the battle site, too, a warehouse this time.' He put the big truck in park, but left the motor running. 'All ashore that's goin' ashore.'
Angel slid out, and while he was getting Connor's bag, the young man turned back to Spike. 'You aren't coming in?'
Spike considered the steering wheel. 'While Peaches was in Los Angeles setting up Angel Investigations, I was in Sunnydale falling in love with Buffy. So, I don't exactly visit.'
'Okay,' Connor said slowly, his eyebrows climbing high. He stepped out of the truck at the same time as the apartment door opened. A young woman with shining brown hair peered out, her eyes finding Angel, then Spike, and finally resting on him. She gave him a tentative smile.
'Oh boy,' Connor said heavily. He glanced back at Spike. 'She's really young.'
Spike turned off the engine. 'That's my Bit, Dawn, I mean. Buffy's little sister. Guess I'm coming in after all.' Another woman had joined her in the doorway. 'That's the Slayer.'
Connor stood by the door of the truck and took his first look at the legendary Slayer. She was smaller than her stories, and his first thought was that she was similar in stature to his own mother. Connor glanced at his father, who was also watching Buffy, a worried expression on his face. Then he met the Slayer's steady gaze, thinking she was pretty but careworn, and he felt an unexpected pang of sympathy for her, the woman who was in the role that he couldn't help but feel rightfully belonged to Cordelia.
'Come on in, son,' Angel said, looking away from Buffy's unreadable eyes.
'Lo, love,' Spike was saying to Dawn, standing on the lowest step and looking up at her. 'This is unexpected.'
'Hi,' Dawn said coolly, 'ass.' She gave him a pointed look. 'You better behave.'
'On my best,' he agreed humbly, not quite sighing. 'Lo, Buffy,' he mumbled.
She didn't answer, just looked down, and Dawn heaved a sigh. 'I thought we'd have dinner together, so I ordered out.' She smiled brightly. 'Hi, Connor. Welcome to Cleveland. I'm Dawn Summers.'
'Hi,' he said, smiling, taking her offered hand. She was even prettier close up. He switched his gaze to Buffy and held out his hand again. She had died – he'd heard those stories told in lowered voices – and it showed in her eyes. 'You must be Buffy. Sorry to just drop in like this; I understand he didn't tell you about me until the last minute. Typical.'
She forced a smile. 'Nice to meet you, too, Connor. Please, come in.'
'You must be pretty tough, to put up with him.' He stepped inside and knew right away that it was his father's house, that the Slayer would never have picked such an open floor plan, the high ceilings. 'Nice place,' he said. 'Oh, something smells good.'
'Take-out from this German restaurant that Willow knows. They have the best potato soup,' Dawn said, leading the way toward the table. Connor followed, and Angel trailed after them, unobtrusively putting Connor's suitcase by the couch.
Still by the door, Buffy stared at her hand on the knob for a moment, then lifted her face to find Spike gazing at her.
'You want me to, I'll leave.'
'No, that's okay, Spike. You can stay.'
He started to reach out and take her hand, offering his support, but he stopped mid-gesture. Looking away, he made an awkward motion and went toward Dawn.
'My grandmother is Swedish,' Connor was telling the younger Summers, 'and she makes really good potato soup, too.' When Dawn raised her brows, he found himself flushing and wishing that she wasn't so pretty. 'I mean, you know. My other family.'
'Is it hard having two sets of memories?' Dawn paused behind a chair, wincing a little. 'If you don't mind me asking?'
'No, I don't mind.' He grasped the back of the chair and waited until she moved away, confused, then pulled it out for her. Dawn sat, flustered and pleased, and he scooted her chair in. 'To me, my real life is my normal set of memories, of growing up kind of boring. My really real life,' he said, sitting in the chair at the end of the table, ninety degrees from her, 'seems like this incredibly realistic movie I saw, or a story I read and re-read.' He looked up at his father, who was taking the chair at the other end of the table. 'It's only when I'm with Angel that the line starts to blur.' He took the napkin from the plate in front of him and put it in his lap. 'But I'm still me, you know? I figure this is who I was supposed to be all along, if I hadn't been raised in Quor'Toth by a man driven insane by hatred.'
'I-I wondered how it worked,' Dawn said, thinking that she liked his matter-of-fact demeanor. He had nice eyes and didn't look anything like Angel, a plus in her book.
Buffy was pulling an extra chair to the table. 'Are you eating?' she asked Spike. When he shrugged and nodded, she went into the kitchen for an extra bowl. Spike moved her place setting to the right so that he wouldn't be between her and Angel, then slouched into the chair, giving Connor a tight smile.
When Buffy put the china and utensils in front of him, Connor raised his eyebrows. 'You're going to eat?' He looked at his father. 'Da – er, Angel never eats.'
The dark-haired man spread his fingers wide. 'Atypical.'
Spike shrugged. 'Never lost my taste for it.' Buffy thumped a full mug, identical to the one in front on Angel, onto the table by his hand, and he met her eyes with a bland expression.
'Okay,' Dawn said, used to never knowing why the two were glaring at each other, 'help yourself.' She waved vaguely at the Styrofoam containers in the middle of the table.
After the food was passed back and forth, a silence fell. Connor could see that Dawn was trying to think of something to say; Angel was content just to gaze at him. 'Well,' he said, putting down his spoon, 'I figure it's no use asking quietly about something if I'm confused, not with two vampires in the house.' He gave Buffy a rueful smile. 'I don't know if Slayers have super-hearing or not, but I do. So, I'm just going to ask, if that's okay. I've got a lot of questions about you guys, 'cause I'm so used to Angel being sort of alone. And you probably have a lot of questions about me.'
'I don't have a problem with that,' Dawn said emphatically. 'I'm a firm believer in the power of people actually communicating.'
Connor waited until she looked from her sister back to him. 'I know that Buffy died and came back, but I don't think Dad ever mentioned she had a sister. Spike said he got his soul so he could take care of you, that you,' he turned to Buffy, 'trusted a vampire with a child.' He stopped. 'I mean, that was four years ago, I think. You're what, sixteen, seventeen?'
Dawn looked pained. 'Eighteen. I'm a freshman in college.'
'Oh. I'm a sophomore. I turned nineteen in November.'
She pushed her hair over her shoulder. 'Where do you go to college?'
'Stanford.'
'Good school.'
'It's not as hard as you'd think.'
'Anyway, you were asking about…?'
'Oh, uh, about why your sister didn't ask my Dad to take care of you?'
'Because Spike already loved me and would give his life to save me.'
'And, after all, who would think of Angel as a father?' Buffy's voice was sweet.
Dawn's eyelids lowered for a moment as she prayed for patience. 'I barely knew Angel; all I really remember of when he was in Sunnydale was that Buffy was moody and cried a lot.'
'Gee, thanks, Dawn,' her sister said. 'I was sixteen, seventeen,' she told Connor, shrugging, 'so, moody anyway.'
He shot his father a look of askance, as he had just been relieved by the information that Dawn was legal, then let the age difference go and turned to Spike. 'How could you love without a soul? I mean, Holz wasn't exactly a reliable source, but he never lied to me when it came to demons. He didn't – or wouldn't – see that Angel was different from Angelus, but Dad has a soul. That's the difference.'
Spike squirmed in his chair, unwilling to bare himself so publicly. Then he sighed; Connor was right about communicating. 'Your mum and dad told my sire, Drusilla, to find someone to take care of her. She found me.'
Connor gave his father a long look. 'To take care of her because she was insane?'
'Because Angelus had driven her insane, yeah,' Spike corrected. 'Don't know that many vampires keep their human emotions when the demon blood takes over; haven't met many others. Figure they just don't last long, that their sire or other vamps get rid of them right quick for being weak. Dru has the sight, so she knew I would keep enough of the higher emotions to take care of her, but be vicious enough to survive. And I did. Took care of her, loved her for over a century, till she kicked me out.'
The boy had homed in on one word. 'Vicious?'
'William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers,' he said heavily, prodding at the skin atop his cooling soup. 'Yeah, quite vicious, much more than Sid ever hoped to be, the ponce. Killed nearly everything at one time or another.'
'You never lived up to Angelus' expectations, boy,' Angel said. Brown eyes met blue for a long moment. 'He came out of the grave quick, with good instincts for a fight, but he was never into the… never into it the way the rest of us were.'
'Not gonna compare sins.' They exchanged another look, evoking a shared memory of another conversation. Spike lowered his head, breaking the connection. 'Anyway, thanks to Uncle Sam, I spent some time in Sunnydale essentially harmless to humans. Started helping the Slayer kill demons just to get my violence on, got to know her and her mum and Bit, here. How could anyone not love them?'
Connor nodded and changed the subject. 'How come you still speak with an accent, and Dad doesn't?'
Spike raised his eyebrows. 'Half his age, for one, and he's been in the States for over a century. Lived all over the world, me, but always go back home, spend time in Blighty. This is about as long as I've ever lived as an ex-pat.' He nodded across the table. 'Bit says I am losing my accent.'
'He says 'smartass' instead of 'smart-arse,' she explained. Dawn flashed him a look. 'One of his many pet names for me.'
'Only when you've earned it,' he drawled. 'And, language.' The two shared a smile.
'I came to America to get away from what I'd been before the soul,' Angel said. 'Even in the early twentieth century, there was still a lot of prejudice against the Irish, so I tried to lose the accent. After a while, I did.' He'd never told anyone this tidbit, dating from his first years of solitude; he'd never been around people who would ask.
Connor nodded. He saw that Dawn and her vampire were still smiling at each other, and he looked back and forth between them. 'So, he, like, adopted you?' He glanced back at Spike, uncomfortable that his partiality for the man was dependent on the answer to his next question. 'You're like her father?'
As the blond vampire winced, Dawn rolled her eyes. 'As if. You have to be grown-up to be–' She stopped suddenly, her gaze darting to Buffy. Dawn turned back to Connor even as she held her hand across the table to Spike. 'He's my best friend.'
'And you're mine, love.' He squeezed her fingers. 'Bit keeps me honest.'
Angel was examining the young woman. 'Dawn gets the whole vampire thing better than any human I've ever seen,' he said, half to himself. He glanced around the table as everyone's eyes fell on him. 'The vampire family thing, I mean, the physical contact, the trust.'
Buffy looked at her sister, thinking of how it had never mattered to her that Spike was a vampire or soulless. To her, he was simply family, and family was important to her. Dawn had shown up bearing food just as Buffy was ready to bolt the apartment, too nervous to meet Angel's son. She had offered herself as moral support, as a buffer, and the Slayer was grateful. Her own expression softened.
'Labels don't work really well for us,' Angel went on. 'I mean, since we've both had souls and had a chance to get to know each other, Spike and I have become more like…' he hesitated, as if afraid the younger vampire would contradict him, 'brothers, even though I'm his sire's sire. And Spike was the Master, too, so there's that dynamic. It get complicated.'
'We usually just leave it at 'family,' Spike said. 'Same for me an' Sweet Bit.'
Connor turned back to Dawn. 'It's just weird for me to see Dad surrounded by people.' He looked down the table at his father. 'I mean, the folks from Angel Investigations were employees, in a way, even though they were your friends.'
'You're right,' Angel agreed. 'I should have treated them like family.' He looked down, studying his half-empty cup of blood. 'One of the things I regret the most.'
Buffy had been quiet, listening to Connor's questions, to the others' answers. She took a breath. 'Connor? I just want to say I'm sorry for what happened to Cordelia. We weren't friends, exactly, but she was a strong person, a good person. She deserved better.'
He stared at her, tears suddenly pricking at his eyes. Connor looked down. No one else had ever said anything directly to him about Cordelia, and he got a sense of how brave the Slayer was, of how doing the right thing came as naturally to her as waking up in the morning. 'Thanks. I wish she were still around, still herself. I had a terrible crush on her; I'm sure it wasn't obvious at all,' he added sarcastically, 'but she was really nice about it.'
Spike's head swiveled around to Angel, his brows drawn together. Quick, he pushed back from the table. 'Sod it all,' he muttered. 'Told Charlie I'd take him to the Century at the Ritz-Carlton for dinner. Liam, a word? Walk me to the truck?'
Angel, his jaw clenched, kept his head lowered as he nodded, rising from the table without a word.
'Connor, nice to meet you. See you tomorrow at the gym, get you armed, yeah? Bit, see you at home.' He paused before he got up, not quite looking at Buffy. 'What I said earlier…' He firmed his mouth. 'What I said the night you left your mum's house is nearer to it.' Spike stood and dragged the chair with him, leaving it where it belonged, away from the table.
'The night Kennedy and Anya were such bitches?' Dawn asked, watching Spike's blond head disappear out the door. When Buffy nodded jerkily, she asked, 'He tracked you down, didn't he? What did he say?'
That she was the one, and that it had nothing to do with him. 'I-I don't really remember,' Buffy lied. 'Excuse me. I'll be right back.' She went into her bedroom, closing the door.
'Ookay,' Dawn said. 'Not awkward at all.'
'I understand it's something of a love triangle?' Connor asked, his voice low.
'I'd say that's an understatement,' Dawn replied. She gave him a wan smile.
'Angel always wins when it comes to those.' Connor stared down at his plate.
'I'm beginning to think you're right. While Angel's away, you should probably know my sister got uber-mad when Angel told her about you – not about you, but about the fact that he never told her from day one that he was a father.'
'Oh.'
'So, if she's quiet, it's because they had a fight. And then she came to me and Spike for comfort, and then she had a fight with him.'
'What was that one over?'
'The fact that he can't comfort her because she's with Angel instead of him.'
Connor bit his lip. 'I sort of got the idea that they're friends – Dad and Spike, I mean.'
'Oh, they are. They're family; they love each other. That's what makes it so painful to watch.' Dawn toyed with her spoon. 'I have to admit, I'm not close to your father. I'd love to see my sister and my best friend together, but Buffy chose Angel. He was her first love, and I guess he feeds something in her.' She shrugged.
'My first love was either used as a chrysalis for a god and discarded when it was over,' Connor said, forcing his tight voice toward something more normal, 'this vegan chick named Tracy, or, what seems most true to me, a 1997 Jeep Wrangler.' When the large blue eyes widened in disbelief, he lifted a shoulder. 'A boy and his first car; what can I say?'
She grinned. 'My first car is a Wrangler, too, but I'm not in love with it.'
'No way! Is it the one that's outside?' Dawn nodded, and her hair slid over her shoulder, obscuring part of her face. Connor watched her push it back, revealing the blue eyes and faint freckles once again, and his heart made an odd little fillip.
Angel stood by Spike's truck, relieved to be alone with the boy, because it didn't matter to Spike if he cried. Cordelia. Buffy's simple words brought so much back, made him remember all over again how unfair her fate was.
'S'alright, mate,' Spike said, joining him, stepping in close so Angel could lean against him. He'd felt the big vampire's emotions break at the mention of the cheerleader, done his best to get him alone.
He took a shaky breath, already close to regaining his control, and wiped his face. 'Buffy's right. She didn't deserve to die like that.' They stood in silence, foreheads together. After another minute, Angel sighed. 'I should get back.
'Yeah. You okay?'
'Sure. Thanks for the save.' He pulled away first.
'No, really, told Charlie I'd have dinner with him.'
The corner of Angel's mouth lifted. 'See you tomorrow, then.' He watched until the boy drove away, then went back toward the apartment.
In their bedroom, Buffy carefully moved the blind back into position. She had mentioned Cordelia, thinking that someone needed to acknowledge her, and Angel had all but burst into tears. Cordelia had meant a great deal to him, more than he even realized. Walking to the bathroom so she could flush the toilet, hiding the fact that she'd been spying, Buffy again wondered exactly how much Angel had moved on from their time in Sunnydale. The answer, she was beginning to suspect, was much more than she ever had.
⸹
'It never occurred to me to actually furnish the other bedroom in the apartment when I moved in,' Angel apologized, his hands in his coat pockets as Connor slid the keycard into the hotel door.
'No problem,' Connor assured him. 'It's just that a bed sounds better right now than a cot.' He opened the door and turned on the light. 'Nice. Smaller than I thought it would be, though.'
'Do you want a larger room?' He was already turning away to go to the front desk.
'No, no, this is fine. It's just such a fancy place, I guess I thought it was all penthouse suites.' Connor put his suitcase down and unzipped it, opening it wide on the top of the low dresser, and decided that he was unpacked. He was tired, but he turned to his father, knowing that this was what he had been waiting for all day. 'Have a seat, Ang – Dad. We haven't really had a chance to talk.'
Angel smiled, knowing the expression probably still looked odd to Connor, and took one of the two chairs at the table in the corner. It was too small for him and not very comfortable, but at this moment in time he liked it better than a throne. He waited until Connor sat down. 'So, tell me about school. You switched majors?' He listened, his whole body involved, leaning forward, his hands clasped so he wouldn't be tempted to reach out and grab Connor's. The young man grew more animated, telling his father stories with self-depreciating humor, able to admit to triumphs like good grades and won games without sounding like he was bragging because the dark-haired man was starved to hear about them.
In the bad old days, Connor had never been able to accept that a vampire could love, that his father, even with a soul, really loved him. It wasn't until he stood before Sahjhan, years of hardship and horror and howling emptiness unveiled, that he could see it, could understand the depth of love that allowed Angel to make the sacrifice he had made. Even then, Connor didn't think he could have appreciated it without his grafted-on memories of a loving childhood in a stable family. His years with Holtz had made him too hard. He had been taught that humans protected each other against demons, but that it was proper to sacrifice fellow humans if that's the only way a demon could be killed, and he had accepted that code, even as his heart yearned for something he could never articulate.
He stopped talking and smiled at his father. 'Well, enough of my yammering. What about you? Shacking up with some woman, setting a bad example for your impressionable kid?'
Angel looked down at the table, laughing. 'Yeah. Willow told Buffy that she'd modified the curse, and Buffy thought about it for a couple of days and decided there was nothing standing in our way. She kind of blindsided me, because I wouldn't have let her do it if I'd thought about it. I've been really happy. We're good for each other.'
'So, she's the take-charge type?' Connor raised his eyebrows; she'd seemed so quiet and retiring tongith.
Angel nodded emphatically. 'The one time she… hesitated to do her duty, Angelus made her regret it. Wait until you see her in battle.'
'What, she's better than you?' He sounded skeptical; he'd never seen anyone outfight his father, had been bitter about that once.
'Yes. She had Angelus on the ropes.' No need to go into more detail.
'She's….'
'Tiny?' Angel laughed again. 'She's the Slayer, the general of an army of slayers. Size has nothing to do with it – look at Spike. He's better than I am.'
'Spike?'
Angel smiled, remembering. 'He is now, anyway. He showed promise early on, enough to keep me on my toes. When he came to Sunnydale and found out the Master, the head of our line, was dead – Buffy killed him, by the way – Spike set himself up as the new Master. We had a huge fight about a year ago, and when he won, Spike dredged that up again.' Angel rolled his eyes. 'I told him about you early this morning, and he–' The big vampire stood up, shaking his head, too full of emotion to stand still. 'I guess he was impressed that I'd done that, given you up because it was best for you, so he…' How to describe it? 'He raised me to the Head of our line, too. Equals.' Angel sat down again. 'It's been a big day for me. Good thing there's no clause. I'm not beholden to anybody in this world,' he finally gave into his impulse and covered Connor's hand with his own for a moment, 'and I got to see you.'
'What does that mean,' Connor asked, more curious than wary, 'that you're head of a line of vampires?'
'Not much as far as number of vampires goes – unless Dru's sired someone and not dusted them, I think it's just the three of us – but just the mention of the Order of Aurelius is enough to make most demons hesitate. We're… notorious.'
'Am I…?'
'No. Yes.' When Connor gave him a cockeyed look, he shrugged and grinned. 'Who knows? There's no precedent for you – there's no precedent for two vampires heading up an Order at the same time. You can be anything you want to be, son,' he grew serious as he said the words, 'and I know you'll be better than an Aurelian.'
'But feel free to use the name and throw my weight around in the demon world, get in to all the trendy vampire clubs?' Angel chuckled, and Connor tilted his head. 'I like you without the curse.'
'Still cursed, thank goodness, but no happiness clause.'
'You have a nice laugh.'
Angel's eyes were shining. 'Thanks.'
'So, you're happy here in Cleveland?'
'Cleveland's okay. I asked Buffy this morning what she thought of going back to California after we're through with the battles.'
'Back to California?'
'To be near you – if that's okay. Not too near, I mean, but… closer.'
Connor firmed his mouth. 'I understand you and Buffy had a fight because of me.'
'Boy never could keep his mouth shut,' Angel muttered.
'No,' Connor said, puzzling over who 'boy' was since his father obviously meant someone besides him, 'Dawn told me.'
'Dawn…? Oh.' Angel studied the floor. 'Not over you, over the fact that I never told her about you.' He looked back up, acceptance on his face. 'Buffy's right; I should have told her. Won't be the first time I've had to atone for past sins.'
'I don't want to cause problems, especially if you're happy.'
'Not your fault,' he said emphatically. 'It's my own.
'Dawn said Buffy and Spike had a fight, too,' he added, watching his father's face, curious to see how he really felt about another man's love for his woman, if things were playing out differently in Cleveland than they had in Los Angeles.
'They did?' Angel let his head fall back and sighed. 'It's complicated, Connor. They are so good together, so close, that sometimes I think I should just step aside, except for the fact that I love her, too. The only thing you really need to know about Spike is that he's a man of honor. He loves Buffy the way you only read about in stories, in tragedies, I guess. But he never wanted anything he didn't earn, and he won't try to take her away – not that anyone can take Buffy, in any case.
'I'd given them my blessing –they didn't need it, but, you know, a nice thing to do – when Buffy came to me, chose me. If I had breath, that would take it away.' His eyes, bright with that memory, dimmed. 'The one time Spike and I, uh, talked about it, he bound me to an oath to take care of her and make her happy, that's all.
'I… She isn't the same person I fell in love with, in a lot of ways. When she died, Connor, before you were born,' he took a breath, 'she went to heaven. I may have the name, but she's the genuine article. And she remembers, son. She can't begin to describe it to us, but she remembers what it was like. In comparison, this,' he spread his hands to encompass more than the room, 'this world, this life… It's hard for her to be here.'
'My God,' Connor said, appalled.
'Buffy wasn't expelled from heaven,' Angel said quickly, misinterpreting his son's exclamation. 'It just happened that her best friend is Willow, who had the resources to find the right spell and the power to work it. Buffy gave her life closing a portal to a hellworld, and Willow thought she was stuck there.'
'No wonder she's quiet,' Connor said.
Angel nodded. 'She was so bright and full of life, and so small and alone,' he said, remembering. 'Now, she's… Sometimes we brood together, me for what I've done, her for her loss. She's still the most incredible person I've ever met, in three centuries. Buffy's that special. When I was young, there was a saying about a person being too good for this world, and that's Buffy.' He closed his eyes for a moment. 'But this world needs her.'
'There are a lot of slayers.'
'Without her, there would be none, and we would be overrun with real vampires, not just us human hybrids. I think that's why the Powers That Be allowed Willow to bring her back, so she could fight the force that was trying to bring the pure vampires here, a force called the First Evil, Original Evil.' Angel thought about mentioning his own encounter with the First, then thought better of it. Buffy had been in heaven, and he had been in hell. Putting it that bluntly almost made it worse. Instead, he looked down, made himself say it. 'That's what was going on in Sunnydale when Jasmine was in Los Angeles.'
Connor could hear the question in his father's careful words. 'I never… felt very much for Jasmine, I suppose. I don't know if I felt very much of anything after… It wasn't Cordelia. Of all of it, I guess the thing that,' he looked away, 'shattered me was that what I thought was Cordy, wasn't. There was no love.' He gave his father a bittersweet smile. 'I wasn't equipped to know love then, but I understood betrayal. Jasmine was there and I didn't care, because Cordelia was the same as dead.'
Angel nodded. 'Even if Sahjhan hadn't cornered you at the sorcerer's house, even if you'd never known, I would be glad that I had done it. It's all I ever wanted, to give you a loving, happy childhood, let you grow into a good man. I couldn't do it, so….'
'I'm glad that you did it, too.' He closed his eyes. 'Fred and Wesley, though. I'm not sure the price wasn't too high.'
'Connor, if you hadn't killed Jasmine, all of us would already be dead. They made their own decisions to go to Wolfram and Hart.'
'Maybe it would have been better if I had died.'
Angel's eyes flashed yellow for the briefest of moments. 'If you had died, then my entire existence would have been pointless.' Angel shifted his eyes to the window and slowly leaned back in his chair. 'That may have been the most pompous thing I've ever said.' He gave a self-mocking, inward-directed smile. 'The boy's right; I am arrogant. What I mean is that I will never, ever be able to make up for the evil I inflicted as Angelus. It's important to me to do good, and you are the absolute best thing I can give to this world, Connor.'
'Dad,' he said, twisting his head, 'that whole 'only begotten son' thing… I'm fairly bright and a helluva first baseman, but I don't think I can live up to those kinds of expectations.'
Angel ignored the mock hubris and leaned forward again. 'You've already exceeded expectations. You're the child of two vampires, and it doesn't even occur to you to do evil. You can be a warrior for the good anywhere, in any arena, Connor. I appreciate you coming here, but you don't have to fight in the battle. Gunn's fighting the good fight using the law; you're majoring in criminal justice.'
'Oh, I'm going to fight,' the younger man said, grinning. 'Just try to stop me.' When Angel chuckled, pride lighting his eyes, Connor figured there would never be a better time. 'Dad? Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to.'
'What?' He concealed the dread in his voice, thinking it would be a question about Angelus.
'Did you love Cordelia? I mean, like, wish you had her in your life the way Buffy is… instead of Buffy?'
For the second time that night, the mention of her name brought tears to his eyes. Angel covered his eyes with one big hand for a few seconds before answering. 'I've been around for so long, Connor. You see people come and go, even supernatural beings… everything ends. But when something doesn't even begin… You see a door standing open, and it leads to such a bright place, but you never go through it…' He shook his head, making a face. 'I'm not saying this very well. I was afraid, because of the curse, and I never made a move toward her, never told her what I was beginning to feel for her. We reached out to each other, but we never touched. That's the thing I regret most. Having a soul doesn't mean you know your own heart, I've found.'
'What about my mother?'
Angel looked up at the quiet question, staring at the young man who looked so much like Darla. 'As Angelus, I never loved her, and she never loved me.' He frowned, concentrating hard on the memories. 'We very much loved ourselves and how the other… intensified our own sense of who we were.' Angel sighed. 'We were merciless killers, son. But when Wolfram and Hart brought her back as a human, I loved her. If I possibly could have saved her, I would have. And she chose mortality over evil, wouldn't have chosen to become a vampire again, in the end.
'A shaman… well, he really wasn't – that's not the point,' he said impatiently, interrupting himself. 'A shaman pointed out to me that Darla was the love of my life, that no one else had ever meant as much to me. I think that's true for her, too, until you. And never doubt that she loved you, Connor. To do what she did, to sacrifice herself as nothing more than a vampire in order to save your life… She loved you as much as I do.'
Connor thought of sharing his vision – visitation? – of his mother, but decided to keep that just for himself. 'We've never talked like this.'
'No.' A helpless smile took Angel's face. 'It's grand, isn't it?'
The young man laughed a little at the slight Irish brogue; their topics had all been grim, but his father was right. 'It's grand,' he agreed.
⸹
'You think Angel will swing by?' Gunn asked, pressing the button for the elevator.
'Not tonight, Charlie.' Spike tucked his hands in the pockets of his coat and looked away.
'Trying to make things right with Buffy?'
'Something like that.'
'Man, I'm full. Hotel restaurants aren't usually that good.'
'S'the best restaurant in Cleveland. Restaurants in hotels are either dull or brilliant; there doesn't seem to be much in between.'
'You're the only vampire who'd know.'
Spike checked around automatically for anyone who might overhear, but Gunn was too savvy to make a blunder like that. 'So, what are your plans for Christmas?'
'I'm going to see what happens when you put a brother on skis,' he replied, trepidation in his voice. 'Kevin invited me and Gwen to Vermont.' He shrugged. 'I intended to go back to South Central during the break, look up some friends, but…' Gunn bit his lip. He still intended to go back to Los Angeles after he took the bar exam, but things in Falls Church, he was finding, were very comfortable.
'There's your elevator,' Spike said, nodding, and one of the doors opened a couple of seconds later. 'See you tomorrow at the gym?'
'Sure. See you then.' Gunn waved goodbye. He had been on the verge of inviting Spike up for a while, but the blond man had fought with Buffy, too, and vampires were a broody bunch. He watched the retreating leather-clad figure until the doors closed and let out a sigh. This was the first time he'd felt lonely in Cleveland, with the remnants of the old crew. South Central wasn't the only place he didn't feel he fit in anymore.
⸹
'Gunn always gets an axe,' Dawn said, opening first one, then several other cabinets in the armory, displays of swords and axes and knives to make any warrior salivate.
'He always picks an axe?' When she only looked at him blankly, Connor added, 'Pick axe…?' His voice trailed off.
She raised an eyebrow at the wordplay, then sized Connor up critically, asking, 'What do you want?'
'A sword.'
'Good. That's what I would have suggested. You have much experience with a sword?' She stepped out of his way.
He gave her a look over his shoulder. 'I've been using a sword since I was little.'
Dawn was unimpressed. 'Take your pick, then.'
Connor had noticed that she was much more businesslike this morning, all her duties as a Watcher keeping her focus away from him. 'What weapon do you prefer?' he asked, just so she'd stay with him another few seconds.
'A stake.'
'Really? But you're not a slayer,' he blurted.
'Sunnydale?' Dawn heard the sarcasm in her voice and closed her eyes. 'I'm sorry. No, I'm not a slayer, but I staked my first vampire when I was fifteen. It's not so much strength as it is technique.'
'Won't there be more than vampires tonight?' She nodded, but before she could answer, Spike appeared out of nowhere.
'Which is why she always carries a dagger as well.' He slung his arm over her shoulder. Connor looked away from the sight. One of the slayers had suggested that she would be able to warm up much better if Spike took off his shirt while they sparred. He had done so, with a quick, 'But will you be able to practice better?' Connor found that the sight of the incredibly toned pale torso against Dawn made his teeth clench.
'Eleventh century,' she intoned, bored, 'from some Crusade, used to kill hundreds of infidels, or was it Christians?'
'Keep it up, and I'll take it back, leave you with a kitchen knife or somesuch.'
'As if.'
'I like that knife. Got something better for you, though.' He had an absolutely wicked smile on his face.
'What?' she asked warily.
Spike left her and brushed past Connor to rummage in the bottom of the sword cabinet. 'Here you go,' he told her, 'a patented Initiative cattle-prod-for-demons. Nicked a few last battle. Felt bereft without one since my crypt burned.'
Her eyes sparkled with matching malice. 'Excellent!'
Spike turned to Connor. 'Not your run-of-the-Stanley Milgram kind of electroshock. This one takes down demons – 's'how they got me. Even put Buffy down for a good twenty minutes.'
'It doesn't kill them,' Connor pointed out, trying to be polite.
'Nope, but it'll bloody well take the fight out of them long enough to kill 'em at one's leisure.' He nodded toward the sword display. 'Used that espada on the left to defeat and humiliate your father; you might want it for a good luck charm.'
'Took him two hours of whacking at empty air to get in a lucky hit,' Angel said dryly. He had also popped up with supernatural abruptness.
Spike just grinned, having made the comment for his grandsire's benefit, then nodded at the younger man. 'I'd pick the bast – er, hand-and-a-half sword, myself.'
'Hand-and-a-half… Spike, I love you, but you're a prude.' Dawn shook her head; as if naming a bastard sword in front of her would sully her pure mind.
'But you do love me.'
'Most of the time.'
'Prude.' He considered the word. 'Believe I prefer, what was it you once called me? A vampire sex god?'
'Dawn, please,' Angel said, exasperated, 'don't encourage him.'
'I only said that because your massive ego might have deflated a bit while you were off being selfishly dead.' Spike simply smiled at her and leaned in to kiss her nose. Then he was gone, too stoked on the energy to stay in one place for long.
'Off being dead?' Connor asked. 'Isn't he sort of always dead?'
'Spike sacrificed himself to save the world,' Dawn said flatly, 'then he came back.' She gave Angel a cool look. 'You can ask your father about that.'
They watched her walk off. At his son's raised eyebrows, Angel looked pained and shook his head. 'Long story. I'll tell you some other time.'
'Dawn doesn't like you very much,' Connor said.
'She doesn't have much reason to.' Angel slammed the door on that topic with an emphatic, 'Let's spar. I'll get a sword, too.'
All the warriors in the gym were loose, casual conversation mixing with the clang of crossed swords and the zip of bolts from crossbow practice. Connor kept his eye on Spike, who never stopped moving from one sparring partner to another, trying to determine for himself if he was better than Angel. He forgot to watch for his father while the blond vampire was working with Dawn, though, captivated by the way she moved just like Spike and how the overall effect was much prettier, and had his weapon taken from him. 'Sorry,' he said, hastily looking away from Angel's suspicious examination.
'Connor,' he began, his words slow, 'do you–'
Fortunately for Connor, he was interrupted by a very loud, alarmed 'Spike!' from the front of the building. The folks in the training room broke into a run to find Geneva standing over a prone man, his immense arm twisted at a painful-looking angle by both her hands. 'Look what I found skulking around,' she said with great satisfaction.
'Very good, pet,' Spike said. 'You've found Manny Rojas, one of our volunteers. Let him up.' He held out a hand and pulled the stunned human easily from the floor. 'Teach you to be on time,' he said, grinning. 'Have trouble finding the place?'
Rubbing his arm, Manny ignored Spike to stare down at Geneva in awe. 'Who are you?'
'Geneva.' The answer was grudging.
'You put me on the floor.'
She gave him a look that plainly said she'd be happy to do it again, but a glance at Spike's expectant face made her mumble. 'Sorry about that. We've had trouble here before.'
'No, pet,' Spike said, 'you were right to be careful. No harm done.' His head swiveled back to Rojas. 'No harm, right?'
'No harm that can't be smoothed over by buying me a drink after this,' the big man said, still gazing at Geneva with admiration. A diffident look stole over his face. 'How old – please tell me that you're over eighteen?'
'I just turned eighteen.'
Manny looked up at the ceiling and said a devout, 'Thank you.' Miko and Dawn exchanged amused glances, and Geneva's expression was stuck somewhere between embarrassed, surprised, and flattered.
'Everything all right?' Giles asked, coming through the door, Buffy right behind him.
'Yeah,' Spike replied. 'Not everyone's met. Alpana, you want to start the introductions?' Vishnaswamy, looking odd in jeans and sweatshirt instead of a sari, gave her name and credentials, and the round of introductions ended with Spike. 'And I'm Spike, gladly handing things over to our fearless leader.'
Giles opened his mouth, but Buffy took a step forward. 'Good to see everyone. We usually have more people, but this battle will be in a large, open space, a warehouse, good sightlines, so we'll be fine. Willow, who isn't here yet, will handle the outside once most of the demons are inside. Our goal is to get rid of every last one of them, so they don't leave the battle and get loose in Cleveland. The Watchers will be up high with crossbows; the rest of us will be in teams on the ground. Oh. Giles, Faith called. She and Robin are in Beverly Hills, so they won't be here. Except for Wil, this is it.
'Spike and I will take point. If something gets past us, we know one of you will take care of it. Questions?'
There were none, but Manny looked much less confident than he had a couple of minutes before. Spike took a step closer. 'You've got your choice of weapons, and the best way to kill anything that isn't a vampire is to behead it or take it through the eyes. If it's really exotic, me an' the Slayer will take care of it.' He peeled off and put an arm around Geneva's waist. 'Think you should take him under your wing, love, since you nearly broke his off.' In a lower voice, he added, 'He's okay.'
'He's an ass,' she hissed back.
'Nah. We confident guys get that a lot. Trust me, if you manhandle a guy and he thinks it's great, he's a keeper.' Might as well try to get one slayer to see things his way.
⸹
The official Council report on the seventh battle stated that the number of demons killed was smaller than in previous battles because it was so close on the heels of another. To the combatants on the floor and to the Watchers above, since their numbers were fewer, things didn't seem so easy. For Manny, who had never killed anything bigger than a spider, his maiden battle was both horrific and life-affirming. When he didn't throw up after beheading a reptilian thing with four arms, Geneva gave him a quick smile that got him upright and crashing into the next vampire with his short sword at the ready.
Connor, veteran of many conflicts, had the strange sense of being home as he fought between his father and Gunn. He remembered Gunn's efficient style, his long reach and canny sense of where to be next. And of course he knew his father's fluid moves, so graceful for a big guy, the way he used his powerful body to mow down opponents. Connor had studied it for weaknesses in the past and never found any that could be exploited.
The demons came in waves, so he was able, as Buffy had predicted, to take advantage of the sightlines to watch the rest of the battle. Connor knew the exact moment Dawn shot her last bolt, dropped her crossbow, and used a rope to rappel down to the main floor to join Miko's team. The small slayer was quicker than Dawn, but the Summers girl was cleaner, with Spike's moves and thinking drummed into her. Connor didn't feel anxious that she was fighting, not the way he'd always felt nervous about Cordelia and Fred being in a battle. The only other Watcher on the ground with them was the Head of the Council, and Giles was lethal with his sword, taking a position behind and to the left of the general and her second-in-command.
These were the two that Connor found his gaze coming back to, time and again. He finally believed his father's easy admission that Buffy and Spike were better than him. Connor had never seen anyone as good as Buffy, and he knew that skill came from innumerable other fights. The rise and fall of her stake was precise as a blueprint, the thrust of her short blade was clinical and clean; the odd hybrid axe she wielded must have been custom-made for her. Buffy had fought everything; she knew the moves her opponent would make and had already thought ahead to the deaths of the next four in line.
If Buffy made battle an exact science, Spike elevated it to an art form. Connor got the sense that he had so many possible moves that even he wasn't sure what he was going to do until his body did it, unerringly choosing the right parry, the effortless dodge. He had an eye for battle, the unthinking use of his own strength and skill, but it was his balance on the knife edge between control and chaos that took him to the next level.
Connor's sister took gymnastics, and he had suffered through many meets and watched countless matches on television. He had seen gymnasts who were technically perfect and boring; he had seen gymnasts with fire who gave a routine their all and fell short of perfection. It was possible that Buffy's economical motions would be dull if Spike wasn't to her left, pulling stray demons out of her orbit; Spike's brilliant moves might seem random if Buffy wasn't there with her smooth calm to counterbalance them. They knew exactly where the other was at every second, knew exactly what the other's capability was. If they had practiced with the demons they were killing, the two of them could not be more deadly, more precise, more flowing.
Most impressive to Connor was the fact that their dance wasn't exclusive. They were aware of the other conflicts in the large building, calling out warnings, occasionally darting away to lend a hand. He watched Spike drop back to help Angel take on three particularly nasty lumpkins (it wasn't the putty-skinned demons' technical name, but that's what Holtz had always called them in Quor'Toth), and he got a sense of how long the two warriors had fought together, how close the pull of the ancestral demon blood made them. They moved together seamlessly, swords lancing into where the creatures' vital organs were concealed deep inside their earthen bodies. That camraderie paled into awkwardness as Spike rejoined Buffy, circling back-to-back without a word to take down a semi-coordinated rush, Spike darting out of the way as Buffy drove her Scythe backward into the remaining vampire, the blond man casually flicking out with his own blade to slice off its head.
Then there were too many demons streaming in for even Buffy and Spike to hold, and Connor had all that he could handle. He finally realized that the number of bodies piling up on the floor remained manageable because Willow, on one of the high platforms the Watchers had built, was periodically disposing of them with a gesture of power. After a long, intense period of fighting, in his peripheral vision he saw Spike's blond head nod, his glowing blue eyes – were they supposed to do that? – flash toward Willow's position.
'Right, people,' he bellowed, 'Red's closing it up!'
The slayers redoubled their efforts, moving their teams forward to join the general, and the amount of carnage was hard for Connor to believe. Then they were down to twenty demons, and when he had killed another one himself, there were only four. Connor smiled up at his father, who looked around quickly, his nostrils flaring, before returning the smile as the last enemy went down beneath Giles' blade.
'No one was so much as scratched,' Angel informed him.
The big vampire would know if human blood scented the air. Once, Connor would have flung that fact at him, meaning to hurt Angel by pointing out that he would always be a demon, always be evil. He felt a tiny pang over those times, then let it go. 'Are we not awesome?' he asked. Angel didn't answer the rhetorical question, his eyes on his other two favorite blonds, who were walking away, obviously prowling for something. 'Where are they going?'
'They're looking for the source of the energy that attracts the demons,' his father replied absently. 'Buffy had a Slayer dream about it, and Spike heard something a few battles ago. Then they found a hallway that wasn't supposed to be there. That's as close as we've gotten.'
'What are you going to do when you find it?'
Angel shook his head wearily. 'What we always do. Destroy it if we can; contain it if we can't.' He visibly forced himself into a more cheerful mood. 'Come on. Giles always gets pizza afterwards. You'd better put in your order if you still like anchovies. Everyone else has better taste.'
⸹
The after-battle party at the armory was a more subdued affair than usual, Dawn told Connor. 'The slayers get so pumped, it takes them a couple of days to settle down.' She bit into her slice of pizza and closed her eyes. Without bothering to do much more than chew the food into submission, she added around the mouthful, 'Thish is great. I 'aven't 'ad anchoviesh in a long time.'
He watched her with a stupid grin on his face, utterly charmed by how real she was. 'Most people think I'm weird, liking anchovies.'
Dawn made a manful swallow. 'Oh, I love weird food.' She flapped a hand in the air dismissively. 'Everyone else is just unimaginative.'
'What's your favorite weird food?'
'I'll take anything on a peanut butter base – pepperonis, orange slices, canned peaches.'
He mock-shuddered. 'Are you sure you're human?'
Dawn stopped chewing and gave him a long look that seemed to touch him all the way down to his soul. 'I'm as human as you are,' she finally replied.
'Dawn,' he said, liking very much how her name formed in his mouth, 'I don't know how human I am.'
'Exactly.' Then she looked down at the rest of the slice of pizza. 'For a long time I didn't try anchovies because I thought they would look like sardines, you know, where you can tell that they're fish. But chopped up like this, they might as well be salty little pieces of mushroom. So, that kind of makes anchovies sort of, you know, fishy. Maybe they're just camouflaged mushrooms.'
He gave her a puzzled look, wondering what she had meant by 'exactly,' but now that the battle was over, she was focusing on him again. Anything else, he thought, staring into her blue eyes a few seconds longer than strictly necessary, was gravy.
⸹
'I think he likes her,' Angel fretted.
Buffy looked up from where she had been toying with a second piece of pizza, hearing the worry in his voice, and followed his gaze. It was, inevitably, on Connor. 'Who? Dawn?' She watched them for a moment, too, saw how they smiled at each other. Her own expression was neutral. Once, Buffy had been at the absolute center of Hemery High School society, and she still could tell at a glance when a boy was interested in a girl. Rusty though those social skills were, she could tell Connor was falling for her sister, who, typically, seemed more or less clueless. 'I'm sure it's just that they're both about the same age, have things in common,' she told Angel.
'You think so?'
The Slayer nodded, but didn't say anything. She took a nibble from the edge of the pizza, biting off part of a green pepper so she'd have an excuse not to talk. While they were in Illinois, she'd warn Dawn away. Connor might not be anything like his father… but Angel was still his father.
'Buffy?' Angel waited until she looked up at him, her eyes dull. He hesitated. The source of the energy had not been found, and they had fought two battles in a week on a scale that they would never have dreamed of in the good old days in Sunnydale. Yet something else weighed on his mind more. 'Are we okay?'
She put down the pizza and looked at her hands. 'We are so far from okay, Angel, that I don't know how to get back.'
He frowned. 'I love you. Let that light your path back.'
Looking up at him, she kept her face expressionless. He thought it was her problem, that once she accepted Connor's existence, things would be all right. Buffy closed her eyes. 'I love you, too, Angel. I always will.' He took her in an embrace, and she put her arms around him, holding him close. Even as she did, she could feel him yearning to be away from her, to join his son. 'We'll talk when I get back.' She pulled free and glanced at his watch, turning his wrist. 'I guess we'd better go if we want to catch our flight.' Dawn had rescheduled them for the last plane leaving for Chicago that night, and Buffy had persuaded Giles to drive them to the airport.
Gazing down at her, Angel smiled and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and gave her a light kiss. 'Be careful out there.'
She forced a smile. 'Be careful here.'
On the other side of the room, in a crowd of people, Spike closed his eyes against the sight of his grandsire and his Slayer making up. The realization that had been growing for the past month couldn't be ignored any longer.
She wasn't coming back to him.
He wanted to grab Dawn and head to the apartment, curl around her, just drift in sorrow for the rest of his grotty existence. Instead, he put something on his face that resembled a smile. 'So, Manny, you want Gen to buy you a drink, now she's made you her bitch? 'S'alright by me, but Charlie and I have to go along as chaperones.'
⸹
Spike thumbed the off button on the television remote and sat on the couch, listening to the silence in the apartment. He used his demon-enhanced hearing for the rest of the building. Mrs. Hanley and Mrs. Petrowsky had been picked up by grandkids and taken to other places for Christmas celebrations; several relatives had descended on Mrs. Jackson on the first floor yesterday, but they had left. His tired landlady was snoring contentedly three floors below.
Since it was Christmas Day, Dawn had called, so chipper and sweet that he had put on a good front, easy to do since she wasn't able to see his face. She had insisted that Buffy get on the line and wish him a happy Christmas, too, and the Slayer hadn't been as successful at hiding her feelings. Spike thought she sounded tired and sad, and he warned Dawn to keep an eye on her.
All day long he got calls and messages from his slayers. Tribby simply sent a text message that read 'Danistayohihv,' which he took to be Cherokee for 'Merry Christmas.' Maria called because, she noted, she knew he'd be alone. Even Ute, gone some months now, emailed an animated greeting card from Germany with an incredibly annoying trio of singing trees slaughtering 'O Tannenbaum.'
He had Christmas dinner with Giles and Alpana. Where he and Rupert were still influenced by their Christian upbringing, the female Watcher was cheerfully agnostic, so while Spike had a collegial time, nothing in their dinner conversation had touched him on a deeper level. Last Christmas, he thought, had been better.
Movement always soothed his demon, but while it was Saturday night, it was also Christmas. Bars and nightclubs would be closed; everyone would be sticking close to home and loved ones. Demons knew that, too, so patrol would be pointless. He was stuck by himself for the night. The thought made him feel lonesome and maudlin.
When the knock came at the door, his hand was off the remote and on the tantō under the couch in less than a second. Then he relaxed. Even if he didn't feel Angel's presence now, there was only one being who could sneak up on him and then be snide enough to knock.
'Peaches,' he said, opening the door.
Looking extremely pleased with himself, Angel grinned and held out a bottle of Jameson. 'Merry Christmas.'
'Come on in,' he replied, out of politeness rather than necessity. 'What brings you out to this neck of the woods?'
Hank Moody Divorce With A Smile Walkthrough Definitions
Angel stepped inside and looked around. Not much had changed since he'd first been in the apartment, except for the famed couch. His eyes settled on Spike, who was in his habitual black, feet bare, his boots on the floor by the door. 'You. Supposed to spend Christmas with family.' The boy looked swiftly away, telling Angel all he needed to know. He'd been right to stop by, and the worry over whether he'd be welcome now seemed silly.
'I'll get a couple of glasses.'
While the other man went to the kitchen, Angel settled himself gingerly on the sofa, sinking into the buttery leather and feeling muscles relax that had been knotted for two hundred years, apparently. He let out a moan of pleasure mixed with disbelief.
'I usually hear that sound when I'm much closer,' Spike teased, coming back with two mismatched glasses.
'Is this,' he shifted a tiny amount, 'an enchanted couch?'
Spike gave him a withering look, setting the glasses on the coffee table and taking the whiskey from his grandsire. 'Yeah,' he said sarcastically, 'to go with the bewitched bed and the charmed comfy chair.'
Having much experience at it, Angel ignored him. 'Where did you get it?'
'Furniture store off Euclid. Dawn and I made the mistake of sitting on it, then we had no choice but to shell out massive amounts of cash to bring it home.'
'It was worth it,' Angel said. 'I don't think I can get up,' he added softly.
'That happens sometimes with geezers old as you.' He raised a brow, his expression serious. 'They've got that Viagra drug now, but I've heard unsettling stories 'bout what happens when a vampire takes it.'
The dark-haired man gave him a jaundiced look. 'Pour the whiskey.'
Spike did so, asking as he handed a very full glass across the short distance between them, 'Brat get off to California all right?'
'Yeah. I miss him already.'
'He's a good kid.'
'Yes,' Angel smiled, 'he is.' He looked around, at the forlorn Christmas tree, all the presents that were once beneath it now gone. 'So, you go to Philadelphia on the twenty-ninth?' When Spike nodded, he looked down. 'I haven't been to a wedding for… years.'
Spike's jaw tightened as bad memories came to mind. 'Wouldn't invite you to Rona's, even if I could.'
'No.' He stared into the dark liquid for a moment. 'I'm not the world's best wedding guest.'
'S'weird,' Spike said, considering his own glass. 'S'like I'm standing at the top of a hill, and I see this one pebble beginning to roll down, and I know there'll be a landslide, an avalanche soon.' When Angel looked at him, he shrugged. 'Change, right? Ro's the first, but the humans we know are all young, 'bout at the point of marrying and making babies. 'S'all gonna change, except for us.'
Angel leaned over to grab the bottle and top off Spike's drink. There was no other response he could make. 'So, is she forcing you to wear a tuxedo?'
'Yeah, hangin' in my closet even as we speak.'
'Show me.'
'What is it, mate?'
'What is what?'
'In the history of the world, no man has ever asked another if he could see his tuxedo.'
Angel batted his lashes. 'No straight man.' When Spike rolled his eyes, he shrugged. 'Just want to see the apartment now that you and Dawn have moved in.'
'Means you'll have to get your arse off my enchanted couch.'
The big vampire sighed as he stood up. 'Life is not fair.' He followed Spike down the hallway, peeking in Dawn's room, formerly the studio, then in the slayer's room. They ended up in Spike's room, standing in front of the closet. 'Nice tux.'
'Yeah.'
Angel processed the scent of the room, finding only Spike and Dawn had been inside, and, fleetingly, Buffy. Very faintly, he detected another human. 'Ute's old room.' He could smile now at the memory of not sleeping with a slayer.
'Yeah.' Spike closed the closet door.
'New bed. Is it as comfortable as the sofa?'
'Nothing's that comfortable. Spend more time in the living room than I do in here.'
'Maybe it would be different if it was a family bed.' Under Spike's steady regard, he shrugged. 'We're both on our own until the new year. I'd like to get a good day's rest for once.'
The blond man turned away. 'Just makes it harder to sleep afterwards.'
'I know,' Angel agreed. 'That's what it was like after you stayed the one night at Wolfram and Hart.' He gave the other man an understated smile. 'But it was worth it.'
'Yeah,' Spike said. The corners of his own mouth lifted. 'It was.'
⸹
Lina retied the scarf around her head, anchoring it with her sunglasses. She felt exactly like a movie star, dressed like this for a convertible ride on Christmas Day in incredibly warm southern California. Glancing over at Xander, she could see him relaxing in stages as they got further away from Elmwood and his family. She waited until he felt her looking and turned to him, so he would see her smiling just for him.
How in the world did someone as sweet and dependable as Xander emerge from a family like that? His mother had cowered in the background the whole four hours they were in Elmwood, darting out to make friendly forays to talk to the woman her son had brought home to meet the family. Then a cutting remark from her husband would send her scurrying back to the kitchen, back to her constantly refilled drink. Xander's favorite relative, Uncle Rory, was amiable enough but openly drank like a fish. His drunken father had spent a solid hour criticizing Xander and his last girlfriend, taking the memory of someone his son had loved very deeply and turning her into a freak from a long line of freaks. Then he made a pass at Lina. She shook her head.
Xander caught the motion from the corner of his eye. 'We survived,' he reassured her, leaning across the console to pat her knee.
'How did you survive?' she asked bluntly.
He looked out the windshield for a moment, his mouth tightening. When he turned back, he gave her a genuine smile and a simple answer. 'My friends.'
⸹
'Liam?'
'Mmm?' He let his head fall to the side to look blurrily at Spike's face on the other pillow. It was two days after Christmas, and the bottle of Jameson he had brought was long gone. Spike had made a run to the liquor store and returned with several bottles of bourbon and even one of rye. Angel hadn't been this tight in a century.
'Reckon it's possible to circumsize a vampire?'
'What?' His voice was much more lucid.
Spike lifted a shoulder, still staring up at the ceiling above his bed, a slight frown marring his forehead. 'Just curious. I mean, in the old days, we would have tried it on a minion to see. What do you think?'
Angel opened his mouth to explain in great detail why Spike was one sick puppy, then he just shook his head. 'No. It'd be painful as hell, but the foreskin would regenerate.'
'S'what I think, too,' Spike agreed companionably, the frown disappearing. 'Like old what's-his-name, that vampire from the Scottish clan that had part of his lip cut off in a fight. He was fine the next time I saw him.'
'McMeans.' He was staring at the ceiling again.
'Yeah, that's him.'
'What on earth made you think of that? The circumcision, I mean?' Angel asked curiously.
Spike lifted his head and turned to face him. 'D'you know we're unfashionable these days? Leastways in western countries. Well, not in the skin mags, but on the dating scene. Was talking to Xander couple weeks ago about the mother of one of his slayers in Africa who died of AIDS. The public health boffins are trying to get men in Africa to consider circumcision, think it'll help cut down on het HIV transmission.'
'Adult men?' Angel asked, feeling queasy.
'Yeah.'
'You're not considering it, are you? To be in fashion?' He turned to glance at the bright blond hair. 'I mean, you've changed your look before.'
'Uh,' Spike said precisely, 'no.' He studiously didn't roll his eyes.
'Oh. Good to know you're not that crazy.'
⸹
From onstage, Oz oriented his guitar toward her and met her eyes for a moment. Willow raised her bottle in return, smiling at him. They had seen his family over Christmas, who, if not as laid back as Oz, were still much more relaxed than her overachieving parents. She had been surprised and pleased that Oz wanted her to go to San Diego, where all his family had relocated. The only person she hadn't seen was his sister, who was working in the Peace Corps. His nephew Jordy was ten now, as hard as that was to believe, and Oz always made a point of talking to the boy who'd inadvertently made him a werewolf, to give him advice.
They had traveled up the coast to Los Angeles to see Devon, who – predictably – just happened to need a guitarist for a gig he was playing on New Year's Eve, which is how Willow came to be sitting in a bar on the last day of the year. It had been a while since she'd seen Oz play, though, and she was enjoying it. He'd come a long way, though he told her with a twinkle in his eye that he still hadn't mastered a diminishing ninth.
'Hey, great band, huh?'
'What?' She nearly spilled beer from her bottle, surprised. Turning to see who it was she hadn't seen approach, she found a clean-cut young man leaning against the tall table. 'Oh. Great,' she agreed, nodding vigorously. Get a grip, Wil, she told herself. Socially confident now.
'You aren't here without your boyfriend, are you?' he asked, in a tone that suggested there was no way a girl as pretty as she was could be by herself.
She leaned toward him and smiled. 'Don't assume I'm straight.'
'Oh.' The way his face fell was almost comical. Then he rallied. 'How come all the good ones are gay?'
It was enough to make her laugh. 'Actually, right now I'm the guitarist's girlfriend.' She held out her hand. 'Willow.'
'Matthew.' He shook her hand, then looked onstage. 'He's not their usual guitarist, is he?'
'No. Oz used to be in a band with the lead singer, Devon, back in Sunnydale.'
'Sunnydale?' Matthew asked sharply, looking up at Devon and Oz again. 'Uh, you sure you want to date someone from Sunnydale?'
Her eyebrows rose. 'Why not?'
'Well,' he said slowly, 'I heard that what caused the crater was that the government stored nuclear wastes in these caverns beneath the town, and they leaked radiation for years and years before exploding.'
Willow grinned at the rumor. 'Is that what they're saying?' She shook her head. 'No, there was a honeycomb of caverns beneath the town, but it was an, uh, earthquake that was just too much for the ground to support. You can trust me on this; I grew up there.'
'Oh. Well, uh, happy new year.' And with that, Matthew walked away.
She had to laugh, just a little. She'd overcome social awkwardness and insecurity, only to drive away interested parties because her hometown happened to be on a Hellmouth.
⸹
'Who gives this woman in holy matrimony?'
'I do.' Spike sat down, relieved his role was over. He and Rona had walked the aisle with no major disasters, and she looked absolutely stunning in her elegant white dress. He had given Rondell a stern look and an emphatic, low-pitched, 'Never hurt her,' as he joined their hands. The service was solemn, sweet, and longer than he remembered weddings being. His demon, unnerved at being on holy ground, amused itself by imagining Buffy in a white dress with a long train, but his common sense punctured the fantasy by stuffing Angel into a tuxedo next to her at the altar.
He couldn't work up much resentment toward his grandsire, not with Buffy hundreds of miles away and the bone-deep peace of a family bed so fresh in his memory. Angel had stayed until he left for Philadelphia, waving at him one final time as the Camry pulled away in the opposite direction. Spike hadn't been as well-rested in years, not since before the mob had taken Drusilla in Prague. He and Angel had slept during the days, patrolled at night, and even talked a little – not about anything painful, just the normal, day-to-day things. Spike knew his bed would always feel empty without a family member now, and he pressed his lips together, wondering if he should concoct a story for Dawn or just ask her to move into his room.
Angel had confided that he thought Connor was interested in Dawn, and while Spike hadn't noticed anything, he was glad to have advance notice. He thought up myriad reasons why she shouldn't return Connor's interest: he was Darla's get, she was on the rebound from that wanker Mitch, long-distance relationships rarely worked, he was Angel's get, she would be taller than him when she wore heels. But Spike found he was comfortable with the idea. He liked the lad. Not that he was good enough for Dawn, but who could be?
Then he stood up, half a beat behind the rest of the congregation, to greet the newly married couple. Rona, grinning hugely and clutching Rondell's hand, turned and began making her way down the aisle. She met Spike's proud gaze and winked, but he felt a pang of loss to see the private smile she shared with her husband. The slayer was a different person now, would be moving away from him, have less time in her life for him. As was proper.
Spike had flatly refused to be part of a receiving line, pointing out that his cool handshake might be off-putting. He did go through the line, though, claiming a kiss from the bride, giving Rondell another stern look before almost literally crushing him in a hug. 'Welcome to the family,' he murmured, shading the phrase with a Sopranos meaning and a menacing smile. The more wary of him Rondell was, the better he liked it.
Vi came up to him, looking very pretty in her dark green bridesmaid's dress, with an anxious expression. 'Was I supposed to be in the line?'
Sliding an arm about her waist, he shrugged. 'Pro'ly. Too late now, yeah? C'mon, pet, let's find a table.' The reception hall was set up more for a party, and he remembered that the groom's brother already had it booked for a New Year's Eve blowout. 'How were your holidays?'
Sitting down in a pouf of skirts, Vi raised her eyebrows. 'Good, which is kind of surprising. My father approved of Joel, but it wouldn't have mattered if he didn't. And Joel wasn't too scared of my half-brothers and -sister, so that bodes well.' At his curious look, Vi sighed. 'Baby hunger.'
'Now I'm surprised.'
She flapped a hand. 'Just hormones. Be glad you're a man.'
He leaned in. 'Being around you? Very glad I'm a man.'
Vi colored a little, looked away, then grinned and met his eyes again. 'You silver-tongued devil, you.'
'Not the first time I've been called that.' Tongue against teeth.
'Shut up, Spike,' she warned, growing redder. 'So, total change of subject, how was your Christmas?'
'Spent 'em with Angel, if that answers your question.'
'Buffy and Dawn went to see their aunt, right?' When he nodded, Vi leaned her head to the side. 'Angel didn't go meet the family?'
'He doesn't have a great history with families.'
She nodded, then leaned over and covered his clasped hands. 'Hang in there, Spike. Sometimes 'wanting is not the same as having.'
He didn't recognize the quote. 'What's that from? Spent too much time with Xander; I only recognize quotes from action movies now.'
'Guy Gavriel Kay, a series of books called the Fionovar Tapestry, sort of the Arthurian legend by way of Tolkien. One of the characters had the answers to all the riddles, except for one. He sought that final answer for a long time. Just before he finally got it, one of those capricious god figures–'
'I know the type.'
'–teased him about life not being worth it once he had nothing left to quest after.'
There was a pause. 'Well?' Spike asked.
'Oh. It, um, made him happy, but he was wise enough to know it could have gone the other way.'
Would have been the Taliesin or Merlin character, then. 'Huh. Like, you might just get what you wished for.' Spike looked down; he knew he wasn't wise. 'Sorry, pet. Doesn't work. I've had as well as wanted, and having is better.'
Startled, she shook her head. 'Oh! No, I meant Buffy. Wanting Angel, her first love, all that.'
'Not a patient man, pet.' He nodded at the banner hanging nearby, congratulating Rona and Rondell. 'Would rather have beaten all of you to the altar.' Spike compressed his mouth and turned the topic back to her. 'So, this make you want to go the nuptial route?'
Shyly, she held out her left hand. Adorning it was a diamond engagement ring. 'Don't say anything. I don't want to take the focus away from Rona for even a second. Today is her day.'
He leaned over and gave her a hug. 'Congratulations. Not surprised, but I'm very happy for you, love.'
'Tomorrow we're going down to Cincinnati to meet Joel's parents and break the news. I understand they'd given up on him ever getting married again.' At his raised eyebrow, she wrinkled her nose. 'Bad divorce.'
'Kids?'
'No, thank goodness. If he had kids, they'd be as old as me, and wouldn't that be fun?
'What's fun?' Joel Muse asked, taking a bare second to include Spike with his nod before putting all of his attention on the redhead.
'If you had kids,' she said, lifting her face to him, taking a kiss as her due. 'With my halfsies, I feel like I've already been a stepmom.'
Spike, surprised by the easy honesty, watched their faces. He didn't see his own reflection on any kind of regular basis, but he imagined the smitten look on the good lieutenant's face was pretty much what he looked like when Buffy was giving him reason to hope. Life is good, he thought, seeing another pebble start down the slope. Unlife, though… 'Excuse me, Vi, Lieutenant,' he said with a politeness drilled into him decades ago, 'I must speak with Giles.'
Just as he got to Rupert, who was looking lost after going through the receiving line, the DJ for the party started up a Nelly tune. 'Do you suppose Philadelphia has demons we ought to go kill?' Giles shouted over the noise.
'Dunno, but I'd wager there's a few pints we could kill.'
'Capital idea.'
Philadelphia, a fine old town with fine old taverns, provided a suitably dark, pub-like establishment not too far from the hall. Giles took a drink of stout, closed his eyes blissfully, and said without opening them, 'I suppose we must get back to the reception before midnight?'
'Otherwise, my ladies will have no one to kiss.'
'They're slayers,' Giles said, glaring at him. 'They'll improvise.'
'Yeah, well, I don't fancy the idea of making do with what's on hand,' Spike pointed out. 'Namely, you.'
'Oh. That would never do, would it?' Giles stretched. 'Well, three hours until then. Aren't you uncomfortable, dressed as a penguin?'
'Yes.' He added a glare to the short answer. Two quiet drinks later, Spike was frowning. 'Giles, something's on your mind. Another prophecy? What are we in for?'
'What?' Giles put down his glass. 'No, no, er, prophecy.' He sighed. 'Can I count on your discre – No, never mind, of course I can. Please don't tell anyone, but I fear I've made rather a fool of myself.'
A slow smile spread over his face. 'Do tell.'
'You don't have to sound so ridiculously pleased.'
'As often as I've made a fool of myself, it does please me to find I'm in good company.' He signaled the bartender and turned on the stool to face the Watcher. 'Go on, then.'
Giles sighed. 'I kissed Vishnaswamy after you left Christmas Day.' He looked uncomfortable and quickly protested, 'There was mistletoe. Kayla's fault, actually, as she hung it.'
'Rupes,' Spike said after a long silence, 'you kissed another adult. Outside of me, she's quite the most attractive Watcher in Cleveland. I don't see how this makes you a fool.'
'Someday, William, I'm going to take an hour or two and puncture your overly-inflated ego.'
Spike waved away the threat. 'Next year.'
'No fool like an old fool,' Giles said, sighing. 'I asked her if she'd be my date to Rona's wedding, and she said no. So, obviously, the wine and the good company a-and musn't forget the mistletoe–'
'Rupes, you're her boss. Everyone here knows it.'
'I know that. It isn't as if we couldn't be discreet.'
'Actually, I don't think anyone could be that discreet. You both live at Watcher Central. It's a fishbowl, man.'
'I know that, and I'm incredibly annoyed with myself. But she kept smiling up at me, and she has such pretty teeth.'
'Doubt she thought you a fool for kissing her, Rupes. But you should–' He shook his head and fell silent.
'I should what?'
'You should not take advice on matters from the heart from a two-time loser like me.'
The corners of Giles' eyes crinkled. 'William, you've been in love with Drusilla and Buffy, and though I hesitate to lump them together in any category, it's fair to say that neither is easy to handle. So, if you have advice, I'm willing to listen.'
Spike shrugged. 'Assume she turned you down because she's too smart – and she is smart – to date her boss. Tell her you're not long for the Council, that you would very much like to see her after you retire. See how she reacts, and you'll know if there's anything there. Mention that you're not only passably educated and handsome enough to be mistaken for my father, but that you've pots of money, too.'
'I could turn you into a toad, you know.'
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'Won't stick. Nibblet's already promised to kiss me if that happens.'
⸹
'Hey,' Dawn said softly as Buffy came into the room they were sharing. She was trying to be quiet in case Aunt Arlene was already asleep.
'Hey, yourself.' Buffy put her little red bag of toiletries into her open suitcase. 'Not exactly the same party atmosphere as last year, huh?'
Last year Dawn had waited for two hours before Buffy was ready to leave the New Years party at a nightclub in Rome, watching her manic sister dance with anyone who didn't look like Spike. This year, they had watched Dick Clark's countdown in Times Square on television and listened to Uncle Matt reminisce about how much better Guy Lombardo had been. 'It's okay. Not like I have anyone special I want to kiss, or something.'
'Good.'
'Good? How is this good, and not pathetic?'
Buffy, in overlarge pajamas, sat down on the corner of Dawn's narrow bed and tucked a loose strand of blond hair behind her ear. 'It's of the good because,' she took a breath, 'because I think Connor likes you.'
'I know.'
'You do?' When Dawn raised one eloquent eyebrow, Buffy pursed her lips. 'Oh. A-and do you like him?'
'Of course. He's cute and, especially considering who his parents are, sweet.' Dawn sat down next to her. 'But he's two thousand miles away most of the time.'
'Th-that's right,' Buffy agreed, relieved.
'So, why are you warning me away from him? And don't tell me it's because it's a long-distance relationship.'
Hank Moody Divorce With A Smile Walkthrough
Startled, she looked into her sister's blue eyes. 'It's just, you know,' Buffy studied her hands, 'maybe you shouldn't overlook who his parents are.'
'Why do I get the feeling that you're thinking more Angel than Darla?' When the Slayer was silent and continued to stare at her hands, Dawn shifted a couple of inches closer. 'Come on, Buffy. Talk to me.'
'What is there to say that hasn't been said already? Angel isn't a sharer. Neither am I.'
'You can be. You haven't had two hundred years to get set in your ways.'
'No. I mean, I can't share with Angel. It's one of the things I like best about him. Feelings are for keeping inside.'
'But not secrets.'
'No. Not secrets. I learned that much, at least.'
'Maybe feelings are for sharing, too.'
'Maybe they are for other people. You know my feelings.' Buffy shrugged. 'Emptiness. Loss.' She sighed. 'I'm just marking time, Dawn. Another year,' she waved vaguely toward the downstairs where they'd celebrated in front of the television, 'doesn't mean a new beginning for me. It means one more year that I've been in exile.' Buffy took a breath and faced Dawn, her pain and sorrow clearly showing in the hazel eyes, only to be replaced by longing. 'One less year to go.'
'Oh, Buffy.' Dawn put her arms around her sister, who didn't cry or take comfort, only submitted to the embrace. She pulled back and met the unearthly gaze. 'Have you thought that maybe it would be okay to ask Willow for a memory spell?'
'No.' The blond woman shook her head emphatically. 'I don't want to forget.' Buffy looked down again. 'I don't know that I'd say it's getting better, but so much… life gets shoveled on top of the memories that they get buried. When I can just go on and everything is calm, i-it's okay. When things are like this, though… It just gets hard.'
'When things are like…?' When Buffy didn't answer, Dawn forced herself not to blow out an impatient breath. 'You know,' she said gently, 'if you want out, this would be a good place to break up.'
'Angel doesn't think he's done anything wrong,' Buffy said miserably. 'That's just the way he is.'
'He hurt you, Buffy, and if he doesn't see that he should have told you about Connor in the first place, he's not going to change. He'll go on being high-handed, and he'll hurt you again.'
'It's not so bad.'
'What?'
She could feel Dawn staring at her incredulously. 'It's not so bad, Dawn,' she repeated in a quiet voice. 'He's never going to hurt me as much as he already has.' Buffy took a breath and met the confused blue eyes. 'I know I can live through that level of pain. Learning he loved Darla more than me, that he probably loved Cordelia… Not so bad.'
'Buffy… do you think medicine would help again? Zoloft, I mean.'
'No.'
'So you're going to live with pain?'
'Do you think I'm living?' Buffy's eyes widened after she blurted out the words, and she shot off the bed. Averting her head, she took a few steps away, arms across her chest, cradling herself. 'I'm just waiting for this to be over, Dawn. I'm sorry. I know I let you down, let everyone down, but I can't be any other way.'
After a silence, her sister said simply, 'It doesn't have to be that way.'
Buffy made a bitter sound and turned completely away from Dawn, going to the window. 'Right. I told him once that if he was the answer, I didn't know what the question was.' She put her forehead against the glass and looked outside at the alien landscape, blue moonlight falling on gray snow and so cold to a child of California. 'I know how much I can hurt Spike.' She shut her mouth abruptly. How could she tell Dawn that sometimes she considered suicide? If she did that while Spike thought he was saving her, it would destroy him. But Dawn was part of her; it would devastate her, too. There were some hours where knowing this had saved Buffy already.
She redirected. 'I know how much Angel can hurt me. But if I let myself love Spike… If he hurt me, I couldn't survive that kind of pain. There'd be nothing left of who I am, if I lost him,' her voice was gone, 'again.'
Behind her, she heard Dawn stand up, and her sister's voice was composed. 'Maybe you're right. Maybe everything has been said before. But I'm tired of seeing you both unhappy, so I'll say one more thing.' Dawn moved away, to the bedroom door. 'If Spike ever hurt you, he'd do everything in his power, spend the rest of his life making things right. That's something that you don't have with Angel.' She started to say something more, then shrugged. 'I'm going to go brush my teeth.'
Buffy listened to the door close. When she was alone, a sob escaped her. She swallowed the rest, sniffling, and lifted her head to look outside once again. Part of her expected to see a darker shadow among the bruised blues and grays, the scent of cigarettes and leather on the wind as he came to sit quietly next to her and ease her misery, but he was as far away as she could make him.
She was safe here. If she was alone and unhappy, that was all right. No one was making demands on her. She was safe, and other people were safe from her. Buffy firmed her mouth, comforting herself with the uncontestable fact that she could mark another year off the time she had to be the Slayer.
Next Chapter: The shadowy figures targeting the Council make a deadly play by making pawns of Harmony, Kennedy, Nina, Olivia, and.. Dracula.