Summary: Events set after Helpless...The lover of an slain foe teams up with Trick, and the Watcher's Council, to finish off Buffy.
Rating: If you watch the show...you can handle it
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, the Wb and Fox own Buffy and Co.
He shivered, pulling his long leather coat more closely around his body. No sense in postponing the inevitable...he opened the door.
Angel had been placing another log on the fire, but he was instantly aware of the intruder."Spike!" His voice reflected his shock. "What do you want?"
"The Slayer," Spike said automatically. "I need to talk with her. There's nobody at her house."
Angel's face hardened, his expression wary. "Why?"
"It's a long story," Spike said, "and I prefer to tell it only once. When do you expect the Slayer?"
Angel glanced away. "I don't."
Spike raised one eyebrow. "Trouble in paradise?"
Angel looked at him with blatant dislike. "It's all your fault! Your little speech about 'You'll never be friends.' She decided you were right."
A tiny smile lurked at the corners of Spike's mouth. "She knows I'm usually right."
"Don't expect any gratitude from me," Angel warned bitterly. "It's not like I got to see that much of her before. What with school, and her mother, and her Watcher...well, it was hard for her to get away."
"There's a thought- the Watcher. I'd better go to him first," Spike decided.
"Not without me!" Angel grabbed his jacket.
"Of course I'm sure!" Frustrated, Angel kicked at the door. To his astonishment, it swung open.
"Hmmpf. A Watcher who doesn't even lock his door," Spike commented.
Angel tensed. "Something's wrong." He looked challengingly at Spike. "I'm going in; you're invited."
"Lucky me," Spike said flippantly, following Angel inside.
Both vampires smelled the blood immediately. Not fresh blood, but not yet very old. They exchanged glances, moving silently forward.
"Looking for something?" The British accent dropped mockingly on their ears; Giles was sitting there, in the dark, brandy bottle beside him.
He was very drunk.
The two vampires stared at him, one curious and one alarmed.
"Giles?" Angel said urgently. "What is going on?"
"Nothing." With careful precision Giles refilled his brandy glass; and then drank it down like water.
Spike's jaw dropped. "He's pickled, Angel. You won't get any sense out of the Watcher."
Giles looked up. "Not...a Watcher. Not now."
"You're not...Giles, what's happened? Where's Buffy?" Angel was growing frantic.
Giles shook his head. "She won't see me."
"Won't see you? But..." Angel appeared unable to grasp the magnitude of those words, so Spike decided to take a hand.
"Where's the Slayer, Watcher?"
Giles' voice held a note of irritation. "I told you- I'm no longer her Watcher. Not now."
"Then, what are you now?" Spike demanded.
"Now?" Giles dissolved into drunken tears. "Now...I'm nothing!"
"What a sodding waste of time!" Spike was disgusted as he and Angel headed over to the Bronze. They'd gotten nothing more from Giles.
"I can't understand it," Angel kept saying. "Are you sure there was nobody at Buffy's?"
"Of course I'm bloody sure!" Spike was exasperated.
In fact, he was positive; since he'd taken advantage of the absenteeism to snoop a bit. Specifically, in the Slayer's bedroom.
Spike was a little embarrassed when he thought of the way he'd gone pawing through the Slayer's things like a frenzied packrat. He'd even...for some bizarre reason...lain down on her bed.
He changed the subject hastily. "When did you see her last?"
"Two nights ago, just after sunset," Angel replied. "It was the day before her eighteenth birthday; and I wanted to give her a present."
"Oh?" Spike was interested. "What'd you get her?"
"A book," Angel said.
Spike snorted. "Well, that must've been a real thrill!"
"Shut up!" snarled Angel. "What would you have gotten, then?"
Spike's mind veered off into an absorbing new direction, contemplating a gift for the Slayer. Surprisingly, a dozen ideas filtered through his head...concert tickets, dinner and dancing, jewellery, sexy lingerie...no. Better not go there. He felt a little startled at the ease with which he could imagine the girl clad in only a few scraps of lace.
He realized abruptly that Angel was still speaking. "I couldn't see her last night; her father was taking her to the ice show."
"Ice show?" Spike enquired. "Does the Slayer go for those? Dru once planned on biting Nancy Kerrigan. Thought she'd make a damn fine vampire."
"Yeah, Buffy was into ice-skating. I took her to an ice-rink once; she's pretty good."
The image of the tiny blonde twirling and gliding on her skates threatened to set off another fantasy; Spike was relieved when they arrived at the Bronze.
"Oh, Angel!" A tall, dark girl seized his arm. "It's so good you're here! You would not believe what's been going on! You would not have a clue! You...."
"Stop, Cordelia." A short, wiry boy with purple streaks in his reddish hair forestalled the brunette.
He nodded to Angel and Spike. "I'm Oz. We've met before, but under rather...stressful circumstances. What Cordelia has been trying to say is that Buffy, Xander, and Willow have all disappeared; that Giles has been fired as Buffy's Watcher; and that everything's in a mess."
"I'll say," Cordelia chimed in. "Buffy and Giles had this huge fight; and there's all these guys from the Watchers' Council in town; and I couldn't get an extension on my Bosnia paper!"
"That tears it!" Spike gritted his teeth. "We have to deal with the bloody Council along with everything else!"
"Along with what else?" Angel eyed Spike suspiciously.
"I think we should find Buffy!" Cordelia announced.
"Good point." Oz looked at the other three. "And I have a plan to do just that."
Cordelia blinked. "You do?"
"Maybe not quite a plan," Oz demurred. "More like an idea."
"This is no time to be cryptic," Angel told him.
"Especially since you long ago cornered the market," Spike retorted.
Oz ignored the squabbling vampires. "Here's the deal...Angel, you and Cordelia go back to Giles' place and get him to the library somehow. Spike? You and I will try to find Buffy."
Spike was pleased at the opportunity for some action; but Angel scowled. "How will you know where she is?"
"Oh, I know," Cordelia chirped. "You're going to track her!"
Oz blushed. "Well, yeah...I'm going to try. Better hurry!"
Cordelia hauled a still-objecting Angel away, while Oz led Spike to his van. "Come on, we have to go to Buffy's house."
"I was already there tonight," Spike protested.
Oz ignored him. "We need something of Buffy's in order to track her, something with her scent."
Spike hesitated; then decided not to mention the blue lace thong he'd found on the Slayer's bed, and promptly slipped into his pocket.
This time there were lights on in the house on Revello Drive.
"Uh-oh," Oz murmured.
"Joyce must have come home," Spike suggested.
"I'll distract her; and you slip up to Buffy's room," instructed Oz. "That is, unless we find Buffy home, too."
Joyce shook her head. "Sorry, Oz....she isn't here. I just got in myself." She peered past the werewolf. "Who...Spike?"
"Hello, Joyce," the vampire said calmly. He rather liked Buffy's mum; but he hoped she wouldn't ask him about Drusilla. At least, not in front of Oz.
"Come in, please," she said.
Oz hesitated, glancing at Spike.
Joyce smiled reassuringly. "It's all right."
"I won't hurt you," Spike told her, glaring angrily at Oz.
Joyce put her hand on his arm. "I know. And I'm glad to see you. Stop scowling like that, Oz. There's only one man in the world I really hate- and it isn't Spike."
Spike stared at her. "Is it Angel?" he asked hopefully.
Joyce shook her head. "It's Rupert Giles!"
"Giles!?" Oz was astonished. "But why?"
"I was so pleased, when I first met him," Joyce said slowly. "I thought it was so nice, this older man taking an interest in Buffy. " She laughed shortly. "If I only knew- how he was taking an interest!"
The rant began, like a dam breaking; and Oz signaled Spike. The vampire nodded, slipping soundlessly out of the room and up the stairs. He opened the door to the Slayer's bedroom.
He stopped, frozen at the sight of the tiny blonde sitting in the middle of her bed with her back turned towards him. Buffy...Buffy had returned!
"Slayer?" he called softly.
She whipped around to face him.
Shock caught in his throat, and he gasped for unneeded air.
Her gaze faltered at the sight of the expression on his face; and she looked away. "What? Not in the mood to gloat?"
In one swift step he was beside her, lifting her chin to examine her battered face.
"What's the matter, pet?" Spike managed, with a tremendous effort, to keep his voice light and impersonal. "Decide to go a few rounds with the X-Men, or did you lose an argument with a freight train?"
She pulled away from the cool fingers that were disconcertingly gentle on her bruised skin. "That bad, huh?"
"Yeah," Spike continued his inspection...what could have done this kind of damage? To the Slayer?
Buffy noticed his stare. "Hey...you should see the other guy," she joked weakly.
For her sake he produced a smile, though it was a struggle when he looked at her damaged face.
"Was it a vampire, pet?" he asked at last.
"Uh-huh, a real psycho named Zachary Kralik," Buffy explained. "Had to fight him last night..."
"But you...won?" Spike was concerned about more than her injuries; there was a bleak look around her eyes that he hadn't seen since she'd rescued her Watcher from that warehouse fire.
The Watcher...something wrong there..."Did your Watcher send you to fight Kralik?"
"You could say that."
She started to turn away but he caught her arm. "Tell me, " he ordered.
"Why should I?" she flared defiantly. But the anger faded; and the bleak look crept back; suddenly she started talking, an almost incoherent rambling that nonetheless gave him an accurate picture of what had happened. The Test for the Slayer...loss of power...kidnapping of her mother. Giles, and Quentin Tarvers. The psychopathic Kralik, and the holy water that had saved her when all hope seemed lost.
"Drugged?" he broke in sharply. "Who drugged you? Who could have..." he stopped abruptly. He knew.
"Giles," she whispered, tears spilling over. He held her tentatively while she sobbed against his shoulder, overcome by the enormity of the betrayal.
Vaguely he was aware that she was finally helpless in his arms; but it never even occurred to him to bite her. Instead, Spike tried to process what he'd heard, heedless of Oz patiently chartting up Joyce in the kitchen below.
The Slayer's sobs trailed off; and Spike made a decision. "Come with me, pet."
He almost dragged her into the bathroom.
"We'd better get those cuts clean," he said calmly, filling the bath.
She stared at him astounded. "Are you...seriously...expecting to...to give me a bath?"
"You can't manage too well on your own," he cut her off. "Your friends need you, and you're in no shape to help them this way. Besides, how do you propose to stop me, since you don't have any powers? You can barely walk!"
Her face turned bright red with anger and humiliation. "You just want a free show!"
His face tautened in anger, tinged with an underlying guilt. "Don't flatter yourself! Now, get those sodding clothes off before I tear them off!"
"Fine!" she yelled, ripping open her shirt. "How d'you like what you see?"
Her body was a solid mass of bruises.
His reaction made her jaw drop; she stared at him in awe.
But he didn't care...he had gone vamp, and the hoarse stream of curses that spewed from his mouth startled him almost as much as it did her.
Buffy found her voice at last. "Spike! I never even heard some of those words before!"
Slowly his face resumed its human guise. "I wouldn't advise using them in front of your mum, pet," he said, forcing himself to calm. Carefully he undressed her; and this time she made no protest, other than wincing slightly as he lowered her into the warm water. As tenderly as a mother bathing her child, he washed her; and, as the pain eased, Buffy found the experience oddly pleasant.
Her initial embarassment hadn't entirely disappeared- she still found it impossible to look at him directly, and her entire body felt flushed and hot- but his hands on her were so gentle that she was able to accept, and even enjoy, his ministrations.
Besides, Buffy thought ruefully, he wouldn't exactly find her sexy; not the way she looked now.
She would have been amazed to find that her injuries weren't as off-putting as she imagined. Spike kept his expression completely impassive...not revealing the strain he was under as his brain sternly ordered his excited body not to react; his rebellious hands not to linger; his eager eyes not to stray.
He knew he wasn't entirely successful; but thought he'd at least done a decent job of concealing his sexual arousal from the Slayer. Spike waited until he'd regained a semblance of control before lifting her out of the tub. He set her carefully on her feet, making sure to keep the towel wrapped around her as he guided her back to her room.
Buffy studied the contents of her closet. "Um, wonder where I left my lavender sweater?"
"What's taking so long?" An exasperrated Oz demanded, materializing in the doorway.
"Hey!" Spike yelped, jumping in front of Buffy. "You could at least knock!"
Oz gave him a strange look. "Sorry, Buffy. But for me, this is a rerun....I've been in this sitch before."
"What?" Spike was outraged. "But you and the redhead..."
"Don't worry, I was a rat at the time," Buffy explained, pulling her sweater over her head. "And when I changed back, I was behind a lot of boxes, so Oz couldn't see much."
"Oh." Spike noticed she'd gotten dressed in record time....she brushed through her hair hastily, then pulled it into a ponytail. "Let's go!"
Spike and Oz followed the Slayer down the stairs. Spike glanced speculatively at the werewolf.
"So- how much did you actually see?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.
Oz grinned. "Full frontal, man. A sight I'll never forget!"
Spike stifled a laugh and climbed into the front seat of the van after the Slayer.
Buffy asked Oz, "Are you planning to track Willow?"
He shook his head. "Too much time has elapsed. But I'm hoping Giles may have found a clue as to where she is."
"Oh." Buffy's eyes clouded at the mention of her Watcher.
"Look pet," Spike said, not unkindly. "I know how you feel...about your Watcher, and I don't blame you. But...I saw the bloke, and he's in a bad way. This... is killing him."
Buffy looked at Oz, who nodded in confirmation. She sighed. "You're right- Giles and I can work out our problems later. Let's go to the library."
Angel, Cordelia, and Giles were already there; Giles looked shaky but sober.
Angel's eyes fastened on Buffy, but he didn't get up from his seat at the table. "Are you okay?" he asked her.
Spike felt a surge of anger; why couldn't the wanker pull her onto his lap and kiss the hurts away? Couldn't he see that she needed to be held, was longing to be comforted?
Spike looked at Angel with dislike. Then he noticed that his sire was completely rigid- that his hands clutching the arms of the chair were so tense that the knuckles were white.
Of course he can't comfort her, Spike realized in sudden understanding. He doesn't dare. He's actually afraid that, if he touches her, he'll never be able to let go.
Angel glanced up and caught his eye. "All right, Spike...suppose you tell us why you're here? I thought you'd gone off to find Dru!"
He'd known it was coming, of course, and he kept his voice level. "You remember the Order of Teraka?"
"Ewww! " Cordelia exclaimed. "That was the order of bounty hunters you sicced on Buffy! Remember that wormy guy- ewww!"
"Yeah..." Spike looked at Cordelia with distaste. "Anyway, the first one- Octarus..."
"Is that the one whose throat I cut with the blades of my ice-skates?" Buffy asked, wide-eyed.
"That's right," Angel concurred. "That was Octarus."
"He had a lover," Spike began.
"He did?" Buffy was amazed. "But he was super ick!"
"No accounting for taste," sighed Cordelia. "Just think of me and Xander!"
Spike was growing irritated. "Are you interested in the lover or not?"
"Yes, Spike." Giles suddenly spoke up with a modicum of his old firmness. "Please, proceed."
"Octarus had a devoted lover who's now out for revenge," Spike said. "She's sworn to kill the Slayer."
"So what is she like?" Cordelia asked.
"Her name is Lamia, but that's all I know."
Giles straightened abruptly. "Lamia...I'll see what I can research...my access has been cut off, but I still have my books. Cordelia, I'll need your help."
"What about Willow and Xander?" Oz inquired. "Do you think this Lamia has them?"
"I know how we can find out," Buffy said, jumping up. "Let's go ask Willi."
Spike snorted. "That weasel will know if anyone does. Come on."
"Wait!" Angel bristled. "Why you?"
"I know I'm not invited to the party, mate," Spike snapped, "but since I am indirectly responsible, I may as well see things through! Besides, I can get more out of Willi than anybody else."
"That's true," Buffy admitted. "Angel, why don't you and Oz go to Willow's house, so Oz can check out her computer? Maybe there's a clue!"
"Right," Oz nodded.
The Slayer started to leave, but Angel grabbed her arm. "Buffy..."
She flinched away, then smiled at him. "Sorry. Pretty sore."
He looked upset, and released her. "Buffy, what happened last night? I thought...you said...you were going to the ice show, with your father."
"Yeah, well, he couldn't make it."
She blundered out of the room, followed by Spike. Spike allowed himself to indulge in a few homicidal thoughts about the Slayer's father. The man sounded like a thorough wanker, letting her down like that! Spike had hated his own father...a nobleman with no time for the bastards he'd fathered on the women he considered beneath him; but it enraged him that the Slayer's father should hurt her like this.
"You know, pet," he offered as they drove to Willi's bar, "Birthdays are over-rated! I don't even remember when mine is!"
She turned to look at him in surprise. "You don't?"
"No," he lied, "vampires don't worry about that nonsense."
Buffy just looked at him.
"All right," he conceded, "It's August twenty-sixth. But I haven't bothered about it in years."
Never, actually. It was just another day- in nowise special.
He pushed in a CD; and the Sex Pistols screamed the lyrics to God Save The Queen.
Buffy made a face. "Your musical taste is about on the same level as Giles! In the sub-basement."
Spike wasn't offended. "I bet he goes in for the classical, luv."
"No, " Buffy said, "The Bay City Rollers."
"Really?" Spike was astonished. He and Buffy continued to discuss their favorite bands until they reached the bar.
If Willi was surprised to see them together, he didn't show it. "Hey kid, what happened to your face?" he asked, the minute he laid eyes on Buffy. "Angel been beating you?"
"Shut your hole!" Spike snarled, grabbing Willi by the throat.
"Spike! That's no way to ask for information!" Buffy scolded.
"It always works for me," Spike retorted. But he released Willi.
"Sorry..." Willi wheezed, rubbing his neck.
Buffy looked at him expectantly.
"Uh, Slayer, I don't really know anything..."
Spike took a single step forward.
"But, uh...yeah, this Lamia chick is in town," Willi added hastily, "and hooked up somehow with Trick."
"Anything else?" Buffy asked.
"Uh-uh. Just that, well...one of yours is a Benedict."
"A Benedict?" Buffy was puzzled.
"As in Arnold," Willi explained. "Watch your back, kid."
Buffy nodded and turned away, but Spike wasn't finished. "Forgotten something, Willi?"
The snitch sighed. "Well, yeah...heard some of the Watchers want to take out the Slayer."
"What?! Why?" Buffy asked.
"They say you're a loose cannon, Slayer. Like Trick said about Spike. Two of a kind."
"Thanks Willi," Buffy said soberly. She and Spike started to leave.
"Uh, you know...you two make a cute couple," Willi remarked. "Seeing how you're both flying solo these days, you oughtta think about hooking up."
Spike and Buffy exchanged one glance of horrified fascination, and fled. Behind them, they could hear Willi chuckling.
"That bloody wanker!" Spike swore, slamming the car into gear. "Where'd he get a crazy idea like that!"
The Slayer hunched her shoulder. "Yeah, Willi's a real yentyl."
Spike paused to work this out. "You mean...a yenta?"
"Whatever. The point is he's running around planning romance for people."
"But why us?" Spike wondered.
She didn' t reply.
"You'd think he'd know better. A vampire and a Slayer? Bad mix!"
Buffy still didn't answer.
"We're mortal enemies, and we fight a lot. All the time."
He threw a disgusted glance her way. "And- even if...by some...strange chance, it did happen, who's to say it would even work out? Maybe..."
"Okay, Spike!" Buffy glared at him. "I get that you find me repulsive, especially right now! You don't have to keep rubbing it in!"
"Wha...!?" Spike's jaw dropped. "Hey...I was only...I didn't mean..."
"Just forget it!" snapped Buffy. "Right now we need to deal, so let's find Trick."
"Anything you say, pet." Spike was regaining his equilibrium. "But, for the record, Angel's a fool. You're everything a man could want."
She was surprised, but she gave him a heartbreakingly sad little smile. "No man wants a woman he can never touch."
She hesitated, then gave him a tentative smile. "Thanks, Giles. I guess we'd better go and get Xander and Willow."
"You shouldn't!" The words tumbled out against his will. "Not today!"
Buffy took a deep breath. "We can't wait," she told him softly. "Don't worry; Angel and Oz will be with me."
"Me too." Spike stepped forward.
"You!" Angel bit back a protest.
"Any why not?" Spike countered. "I'm the one Trick called a loose cannon...that wanker sent his men to kill me! We'll just see about that!"
He was getting increasingly worked up, to the point where he felt some authentic rage against Trick.
"That pillock," he hissed, "told me...ME!...to get out of Sunnyhell!"
"Uh, Spike," Buffy pointed out, "I told you the same thing!"
He chose to disregard this. "But do I do what Trick wants?"
"Of course not," Buffy said sarcastically.
"Of course not," Spike agreed, ignoring the sarcasm.
Cordelia raced in..."Guys...it's the Watchers' Council! They're coming here!"
Giles was on his feet. "Buffy, go out through the stacks. I'll try to delay them."
"I'll help," Cordelia offered eagerly. "I am so good at delaying people!"
Oz looked determined. "Not as good as I am, Cordy." He positioned himself at the top of the steps, ready to block anyone from ascending. "They won't get past me."
Angel led the way down into the tunnels, followed by Buffy, with Spike bringing up the rear. It wasn't too bad at first; but soon the passages grew dank and cold, with shallow pools of water beneath their feet. The tunnel narrowed and finally, they were forced to crawl.
Spike was surprised at how well the injured, powerless Slayer held to the rapid pace that Angel had set. It had to be rough on her; but she uttered not a word of complaint, just kept going. Drusilla would have whined and whimpered the entire time.
Angel stopped abruptly; and Spike, distracted by his thoughts, bumped into Buffy. "Ooof!"
"Shhh!" Angel cautioned.
Spike and Buffy both froze into position.
"It's ok," Angel declared. "Just a few of Trick's minions." He twisted his head to see Spike and Buffy, and his eyes widened.
"Hey!!" his outrage was clear. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Um....nothing?" Buffy suggested. She pushed ineffectually at the blond vampire lying on top of her. "Uh...get off me, Spike! Geez..."
"All right...don't get your knickers in a twist, Slayer!" Spike took his time moving, enjoying the novel sensation of the Slayer squirming beneath him. He wouldn't mind more of that, he decided.
But Angel was scowling at him with a murderous expression on his handsome face. Soul or no soul, his demon was spoiling for a fight, angered by Spike's proximity to his woman.
Spike scowled right back; and the Slayer hastily got between the two alpha males.
They could hear voices now; one was definitely Trick.
"I have the Venetian Pentateuch safe in my room," he was saying. "No matter what happens, we'll be able to proceed with our plan."
"Good," said another voice. With a rush of fury, Buffy recognized the upperclass British accent of Quentin Travers. "The hellmouth Watcher has been discredited and is virtually at war with the Council. As for his Slayer, she is temporarily powerless."
"And will shortly be permanently dead," hissed a new voice.
"Yes, Lamia," Trick said quickly. "But you know how I like to consider the big picture."
The trio in the passage advanced silently until they had a clear view of the former Master's vaulted lair. They could see Willow and Xander chained to the far wall, but both appeared unhurt.
Standing between them and their rescuers were Quentin, Trick, and a tall, exceedingly thin woman with thick, pale skin and heavy-lidded eyes. She swayed slightly as she moved, and spoke in a sibilant hiss.
Just then Quentin spotted them, and shouted a warning. A dozen minions rushed them, and Spike leaped joyously into the fray. He spared a glance for the Slayer- she was fighting back, although lacking much of her usual grace and power. Still, she was holding her own; the drugs must be wearing off.
Lamia whipped around, eyes flaring as she took in the rescue party.
And then...her body began to elongate, her hair stood away from her head. Her mouth opened, and a forked tongue flicked out.
The giant cobra lashed her tail angrily, spreading her hood as she prepared to strike!
Spike barely evaded the thrust of her head...but Buffy was quicker, hurling a vial of holy water at the creature. Lamia hissed, unaffected by the holy water, and prepared to strike again.
"Buffy!" Spike yelled a warning, unaware he'd used the Slayer's name until he heard it on his lips.
Buffy leapt out of the way of the snake's head; but her powers were not fully restored and her jump was not high enough. Although she managed to avoid the lethal fangs, the Slayer fell- right in the path of the maddened cobra!
Desperately Spike looked for something, anything, to use as a weapon...and caught a gleam of metal under Quentin's coat. He was too far; but Angel was not.
"Angelus!" he screamed. "The Watcher...he's armed!"
Spike saw Angel move; and hurled himself on top of Buffy as Lamia struck.
Neither bullets nor poison could kill him...he covered her body with his, spreading his leather coat over them both as the shots rang out.
There was a thunderous crash beside them...and the ground trembled.
Silence reigned....the Slayer began wriggling under him, and poked her head up.
The first sight that met her gaze was the still body of the giant dead cobra.
"Ewwww!" she said in disgust.
Spike grinned, and took stock of the situation.
Angel still held the smoking gun, staring at the snake's unwieldy body. Spike followed his eyes and saw Quentin, lying crushed beneath the coils of the monstrous reptile.
Trick, true to his name, had vanished; and the few minions remaining posed no real threat.
"Angel!" Buffy called to her former lover. "Get Xander and Willow out...Spike can handle the minions."
"What about you?" Spike demanded, helping her to her feet.
"That Venetian thingy Trick talked about...I want to get it!"
"What? No!" Angel objected. "You're still weak..."
"I'm fine! And I...want it for Giles. As a peace offering, so he'll know we're cool," Buffy explained. She whirled around and ran up the passage that Trick had taken.
Angel looked unhappily at Spike. "She told me to save Xander and Willow."
Spike snorted. She'd told himto take care of the remaining minions; but there was no law that he had to do as he was bid.
Instead he snapped the necks of two vampires; and permitted the others to run away. He then slipped silently into an adjoining tunnel; and hurried after the Slayer.
The tunnel intersected with three others in a corridor outside Trick's room; and as Spike stepped out into it he found Angel emerging from another. The Englishman shrugged; and after an instant Angel nodded in resignation. Shoulder to shoulder, the two vampires faced the door. At a signal from Angel, Spike kicked it open.
Buffy stood before them, clutching an ornate sandalwood box that held the Venetian Pentateuch.
Facing her was Trick. "Put the box down, Slayer," he ordered.
"I don't think so, wanker," sneered Spike, stepping into the room.
Angel said nothing but his eyes narrowed dangerously, focusing on Trick.
They were all so intent on Trick that the other voice took them by surprise.
"Do as he says, B." Faith stepped out of the inner room, crossbow rock steady and leveled at Spike and Angel.
Buffy stared. "Faith?" she faltered.
"The one and only." The other Slayer smiled sweetly.
"Now, Slayer," Trick said pleasantly, "I'll take that; and my lady and I will be leaving."
He grinned at Buffy's stunned expression.
"Oh yeah, what can I say, B?" Faith put in. "There's like...this fatal attraction between vampires and Slayers."
"And how sweet it is," murmured Trick.
"Yeah well, B knows all about that, don't you, B? Now," Faith's tone became grim, "give up that box!"
Buffy shrugged. "Hey, you want it...you take it!"
She flung the box directly at Faith; and the crossbow discharged harmlessly into the wall.
Spike hurled himself on Trick; and the two vampires went down, snapping and snarling like wolves fighting for dominance. Trick managed to gain a brief advantage by slamming Spike's head into the floor. But then Spike's hand reached out, scrabbling frantically- to find a jagged piece from the shattered sandalwood box.
Desperately he drove it with all his strength into Trick's back...the other vampire screamed in mingled terror and disbelief...and disintegrated.
Spike got slowly to his feet, brushing Trick's dust from his clothing. Buffy had tied Faith's hands behind her back while Angel held the gun on her; but she was staring blankly at the space where Trick's body had been.
Buffy bent and picked up the Pentateuch. "So," she sighed, "I guess it's all over."
Spike grinned. "Right you are, pet. Or, as a countryman of mine once said, "All's well that ends well!"
"It won't be well until you're gone," grumbled Angel.
"Not that we aren't grateful for your help," Buffy added hastily.
"But now I'm wearing out my welcome?" Spike cocked an eyebrow. "It's nearly dawn; how about I bunk with Angel, just for today?"
Angel sighed. "Why not? Besides, we'd better get back to the library and see what's happening."
What was happening was a very relieved Willow and Xander telling an astonished group of Watchers about their leader's complicity in a devil's bargain with a vampire and a renegade Slayer.
A story coorborated by a throughly demoralized Faith.
In the end, Giles was reinstated.
"Though I wonder what makes him happier," Buffy remarked to Spike as the two of them strolled to his car on the following evening. "The fact that the Council apologized and reappointed him; or that Venetian thing I took from Trick?"
Spike forebore to comment; but privately he thought that what had pleased the Watcher most was the whole-hearted forgiveness in his Slayer's eyes.
He opened the door of his car.
"Well..." he said uncertainly.
"Well..." she said at the same moment.
They stopped, looked at one another, and chuckled.
Buffy brushed her hand down his shoulder. He could feel the tingle throughout his entire body.
"You take care of yourself down in Brazil," she told him, "and better not drink the water!"
"Water's not my beverage of choice," Spike smirked.
She handed him a paper bag.
"What's this?" he asked suspiciously, making no move to take it.
Buffy gave him an impish grin. "Something for the road; but open it later!" She leaned into his car and deposited the bag on the passenger side.
They stared at one another in the sudden silence. She was the first to break it. "Bye, Spike."
She walked off into the darkness, and he watched her go. Buffy never looked back, but just before she turned the corner she reached over her head and waved, as if she'd known he'd still be standing there, gazing after her.
With a puzzling sense of regret, he climbed into the car, started the engine, and drove out of town as fast as he'd come in.
And all the while, he was conscious of that paper bag on the seat beside him.
Spike stood it as long as he could; then pulled to the side of the road and sat there, studying the bag from every angle. Slowly, almost fearfully, his hand reached out, and closed on it.
There was a flat narrow package within, wrapped in black paper with a shiny red bow...his favorite colors. He turned it over and over in his hands, forcing himself to open it carefully when he wanted to rip the paper off in a frenzy.
It was a CD by The Buzzcocks, a Manchester punk band that had found fame about the same time as his beloved Sex Pistols.
He opened the case; and saw the note: Spike, Thought this might be a nice change from the Sex Pistols. Happy (belated) Birthday! Your Mortal Enemy
He read and reread that note. A birthday present...nobody had ever given him a present before.
He'd given plenty of gifts to Drusilla during their years together; but it had never occurred to her to...
Spike stared at the CD with burning eyes. Why had the Slayer done this? Gratitude for his help? With a sudden violent wrench he yanked out the CD with the Sex Pistols and shoved in the new one.
You disturb my natural emotions
You make me feel like dirt
And I'm hurt
And if I start a commotion
I run the risk of losing you
And that's worse
Ever fallen in love with someone
Ever fallen in love with someone
In love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
You shouldn't've fallen in love with
I can't see much of a future
Unless we find out what's to blame
What a shame
And we won't be together much longer
Unless we realize that we are the same
Ever fallen in love with someone
Ever fallen in love with someone
In love with someone
Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
You shouldn't've fallen in love with
He liked the sound, Spike decided. For an instant, he almost thought he could turn the car around, and go back to Sunnyhell...go back to her. Instead, with a muffled curse, Spike put the car in gear and floored the accelerator.
The Buzzcocks sang all the way to L.A.
Epilogue
Sao Paulo, Brazil
Jorge shifted uneasily from one foot to another, finally nerving himself to knock on the door of the Master's bedchamber. In consequence, his knock was not loud enough to be heard above the music...and he had to try again.
A low growl bade him enter. Bracing himself, Jorge walked in and placed the tray and decanter on the small marble stand beside the Master's chair.
Today the Master was sitting up, his white-blond hair vivid against the dark leather. Sometimes, lately, Jorge had found him lying motionless on the bed, staring at the ceiling while that damnable CD played over and over again.
One day last week Reinaldo, weary of that perpetual music, had tried to change it. Jorge shuddered at the memory of what had happened to Reinaldo; and thanked his lucky stars that he himself was tone-deaf.
The Master handed him the empty wineglass- a signal that he had found the blood acceptable. Jorge refilled it at once.
"Messages?"
Jorge tried to conceal his nervousness. The computer was checked at least twice daily for messages; although there seldom were any except from Mistress Drusilla.
Now Jorge said dutifully, "Yes, Master. There were three from Mistress Drusilla."
The Master grunted.
"And three from Miss Edith," Jorge continued desperately.
"Delete them," the Master said indifferently, as he did every evening.
It was the signal for dismissal; but Jorge hesitated.
The Master's eyes showed a gold flash. "Well?"
"Master, there was also an ad..."
"Bloody hell!" Spike's hands clenched on the arms of the chair. " And- you didn't give it to me at once?"
Jorge trembled. "I'm sorry, Master." But the Master was on his feet, already on the stairs leading to the den where the computer lived.
Jorge allowed himself to relax the tiniest bit; he had thought he was going to die. He still might, of course...but now, for the first time in a fortnight, the Master had left his room...
Spike found the ad for Willi's Alibi Room. "Help Wanted" was the only thing it said.
He stared at it for a long time; then he walked, quickly and deliberately, in the direction of the front door.
But then he hesitated. Better go get his CD first, he decided. After all, it was a long way to Sunnyhell.
And he was never coming back.
The End