Rated: NC-17
Summary: AR/ Sequel to The
Poetry Slam, but can be read as a standalone. Picks up the action
right before onset of battle in "Not Fade Away." Takes off from there.
Has now become a BTVS/ATS/Highlander crossover.
Spoilers: Post Buffy S7:Chosen, Post Angel S5: Not Fade Away
A/N: Originally, Chapters One through Twelve were betaed by AlwaysJBJ. However, since FlexSis has done such an excellent job on the chapters after Twelve, I asked her to look back over the first twelve for finishing touches. So, I thank Always for her original betaing and FlexSis for her revisions.
Chapter One
Spike pressed himself against the wall of a darkened alley adjoining the one
north of the Hyperion Hotel. He was tired, bloodied, and wet but still on alert.
Bloody hell, it was getting hot. How can it be so hot and yet the rain be
so cold? he thought. No one else had shown yet. Bugger.
Well, he had disposed of his task rather quickly: a little disappointing, actually;
he'd been expecting a nicer brawl. Still, not bad work, even with Junior handicapping
him by one arm; cute little tyke had actually gurgled as Spike was slashing
through the Fell.
Thankfully, Peaches didn’t see him looking all Obi Wan. Could not believe it
had been so easy to sneak inside; hello, vampire scent does not smell like Fell.
He really should have taken offense.
Little Mamma was happy seeing Junior again. Spike frowned. Morsel’s Da though
still was not in the best of health. But Spike figured the money and the new
identities would help sort out that family nice and proper like.
Spike tensed as he sensed a familiar smell, then relaxed: just Peaches, complete
with broadsword. Spike stepped out to make his presence known. “Boo.”
“Anyone else?”
“Not so far. You feel the heat?” Spike asked, needing to make sure he was not
the only one feeling this. Earlier in the day, he had begun questioning whether
he had been changed after coming back to his unlife from the big pile of ashes.
It tore at his soul that he was even second guessing himself.
Angel nodded, “It’s coming.”
Covering his relief from Peaches’ answer, Spike said, “Finally got ourselves
a decent brawl.”
Spike saw Gunn running down the street, carrying his proudly homemade battle-axe.
“Damn! How did I know the fang boys would pull through?” He frowned as he noticed
Gunn’s run become first a jog and then a weak stumble. “You’re lucky we’re on
the same side, dogs, ‘cause I was on fire tonight. My game was tight.”
Spike quickly, with Angel’s help, caught Gunn before he fell and helped him
onto a box.
Human blood. Gunn was hurting worse than he was trying to show. He understood,
but still he had to look at the wounds. “You’re supposed to wear the red stuff
on the inside, Charlie boy.”
Spike had to hand it to Gunn. Charlie had only then seemed to notice his wounds
and quickly dismissed them, asking instead, “Any word on Wes?”
As the words left Gunn’s lips, Illyria jumped down from the chain-link fence
standing behind Angel. Blue does know how to make an entrance, Spike
mused.
Illyria answered the question left hanging in the air. “Wesley’s dead.”
Spike hung his head for a moment in deference to the ex-Watcher. He had grown
sort of fond of that bastard. Man did know his scotch, the 12-year-old Lagavulin;
Spike wished he had copped some off of him.
The roar of a crowd has begun to grow in volume. The heat had increased at least
fifteen degrees since Angel first entered the alley.
Blue had earlier let slip to him that she had become more human since Wes had
ray gunned her. Spike watched fledgling emotions flash across her once ice-cold
face. She surprised him by admitting it. Little Shiva gritted out, “I’m feeling
grief for him. I can’t seem to control it. I wish to do more violence,”
“Well, wishes just happen to be horses today.” Spike told her over the din of
the crowd.
Angel agreed, “Among other things.”
Spike swiveled to his right in time to watch the horde of demons turning the
corner at the entranceway to the street leading into the alley. Bloody hell.
A sense of déjà vu swept over him, taking him back to that day under the Sunnyhell
High, with thousands of uber grand pappies. Except the ubers were prettier.
Spike saw perhaps thousands of assorted hellspawn and oh look a dragon. Hadn’t
seen one of those since the Bad-Perm Bitch’s Tower.
He heard Gunn shouting, “OK. You take the 30,000 on the left…”
“You’re fading. You’ll last 10 minutes at best.” Smurfette, always a font of
positivity.
Gunn, a true soldier, stood up, “Then let’s make ‘em memorable.”
Angel had stepped toward the crowd, so Spike followed, Charlie and Shiva behind
him. Just like the in the old days, Spike mused; here he was, standing
on his Grand Sire’s right. He felt better that Charlie boy was standing beside
him, thinking he could keep him from harm at least for a little while. It was
a thought anyway. Bluebell was on Angel’s other side.
Secretly, he loved the fact that Angel had rejected all Angelus’ instincts.
Wonder if Angel realized he was doing it? That Tit would have never allowed
himself to be back up against a wall of any sort. Hell, he had even threatened
to end my unlife for causing such trouble.
Recalling Yorkshire in 1880, how he had incited that mob. Angelus had been seriously
pissed. Told him right off that he preferred getting caught. “All out fight
in a mob, back against the wall, nothing but fists and fangs.” Poofter actually
threatened him with a metal stake.
No, the Insufferable One only fought battles he knew he could win.
“In terms of a plan?” he asked Angel.
“We fight,” Angel stated. Well, pin a rose on Captain Obvious.
“Bit more specific?” he tried asking again.
Angel had stepped forward as the demon horde began their attack. “Well personally,
I kind of want to slay the dragon. Let’s go to work.”
With that, Angel swung his sword, beheading some beastie. Blue went to work
knocking holes in the heads of three unrecognizable demons. In fact, Spike was
not sure what he was fighting. He had immediately had gone into game face, disarming
some creature that had tusks. He almost had fang envy.
Katana in hand, Spike began exacting a fair amount of damage. Charlie boy was
fighting off some 10-foot tall hairy beast and losing. So, he made his way over
to Gunn, sliced the fur ball’s kneecaps and finished it off with a beheading
stroke.
“Stay close. Be my backup. Don’t make me eat you, Charlie.”
“OK, got your six.”
All of sudden, Spike’s senses went on high alert. Powerful magic was being used.
Burnt olive smell. Was that glitter?
***POP***
Spike’s eyes couldn’t believe who he saw standing before him.
“Hey there, Sexy Resurrected, heard you might need our help,” Faith grinned
as she, Rona and Dana joined in the battle.
Chapter Two
“Faith, what the bleedin’ hell are you bints doin’ here?” Spike shouted as
he was fighting two rank smelling demons. Sometimes, the vamp's heightened sense
of smell could be a pain in the arse. “S’not that I’m not thrilled at seeing
you, Rogue, but it’s that ya brought Tender Roni and the recently-released psychotic
slayer who hacked off my hands with you. 'Twas nice of ya to ‘pop’ in to visit
with your lovely toys, though.”
“It’s five by five, Studly…but let’s bash now, chat later.” Faith said as she
went off somewhere down the alley.
“Yeah, Faith, what are you doing here?” Gunn hollered after her and panted,
“Who’s the fine honey with the dreads?”
“Honey, never call me 'honey,' cue ball. Name’s Rona. Duck,” Rona ordered as
she swung her sword over Gunn’s head. Then, she glanced over at Spike. “Hey,
Billy boy, I heard what you called me,” she said, smiling. “I missed you, too.
Don’t die again.” Rona plunged back into the fray.
Spike found Angel. He didn't know whether Peaches had seen their unexpected
backup arrive. Angel had climbed up the fire escape to the top of the building
and looked as if he was preparing to dive onto the approaching dragon. He did
have to have all the fun, didn’t he?
Spike’s forearms screamed at him to flee. He turned to see that Dana had approached
him from behind. She had killed five demons he had not seen.
In the short time since the slayer trio had arrived, Dana had already become
the most bloodied, but not with her own. Bollocks if she wasn’t a vision right
out of “Texas Chain Saw Massacre.” Blood covered her hair that was drawn into
two pigtails, her "Hello Kitty" t-shirt, jeans, and pink sneakers.
It was the pink sneakers that probably wigged him the most. The sneakers had
those little friendship pins attached to the shoelaces he remembered being popular
in the '80s. As if their last little dance didn’t prove the lass had gone daft
in the melon, the sight of her decked out like some anime babe on LSD sealed
the deal.
“Hello, Luv, fancy seeing you again,” he said cautiously holding the katana
in a non-threatening position, but still having it at the ready.
“Spike…I know now it wasn’t you. Sorry I cut off your hands. I know you’re not
a bad man anymore. I help you now,” she said drawing out the sentences much
as she had before, like a little child.
Dana then leaped at Spike grabbing him by his duster. She stopped, smiled and
then squeezed him in a quick hug only to then run off, giggling.
Spike stood stock-still. The psychotic little chit just hugged him. What was
his unlife coming to? Had he been shifted to an alternate universe? He remembered
Red talking about the world where the Great-Great Grand Dolt had made both her
and the Whelp vamps. What poor taste, a vamped Whelp…he barely stood him in
Sunny-D…how could he have fared with the possibility of an eternity with that
brain trust?
He needed to stop his musings and get back to the smash and bash. He would figure
this all out later.
~~~~~~~~~~
(Thirty minutes later.)
Spike could only roll his eyes. Great, now the Poofter had gone and done it.
“Good show, Peaches…or should I just call you Angel the Dragon Slayer now? I
tell you, it brings a tear to the eye, it does,” Spike teased over the fray.
“Shut up, Spike. My one dragon, for how many hundreds for you? … don’t tell
me. I know you’re keeping count.”
“Well, yeah.”
Spike had re-assessed their situation. Hundreds of the thousands had been slaughtered.
Angel had downed the dragon. Everyone still was on his or her feet, more or
less.
Angel had acquired an axe somehow, and was helping a demon shed those unwanted
stomach pounds. Gunn had been rushed to a side alley by Tender, who was using
her Hellmouth-acquired medic skills to bandage the boy, while keeping any of
those too interested in turning Charlie into a meal sorry to have looked his
way. Psycho was happily slicing and dicing and singing her way through the melee.
Blue Thunder was living up to the name coined by Gunn, leaving destruction in
her wake. Rogue was a little worse for wear, but holding her own; her leather
jacket had seen better days though.
Spike motioned to Angel, looking over at Faith. Angel nodded. They both fought
their way over to Faith, helping her get rid of some hulky, stone-like creatures.
Spike noticed that both Angel and Faith looked like they had dealt with their
kind before.
“Spike, try to tear out a piece of their skin…it’s the only thing that kills
them,” Angel growled.
“Right then. Ok Mr. Rocky Horror, how bout giving me a little chip off the ol’
block?”
Angel groaned, “Spike, you have got to be kidding me with that
one.”
Faith just smirked, “Gotta say, damn, Bleachy I missed you. No one appreciates
my catch phrases. I’ve been trying out a few in honor of your unpassing.”
~~~~~
(Ten minutes later.)
The battle still raged on. Spike had, by now, lost count of his kills. Not that
it mattered. They still seemed to keep coming. Even he had started to tire.
After Faith had asked Angel about Wes, she seemed to gain some second wind upon
learning of his demise. He had heard of her homicidal tendencies, but had never
seen them in action. Bluebell sensed Faithy’s incredible pain for Wes and had
begun to fight by her side.
At first, Spike noticed Faith had to overcome her initial shock at Blue’s appearance.
Illyria had morphed briefly into Fred and back again, so Faith would not attack
her by accident.
“What the hell happened to you, Fred?” Faith asked.
“Winfred Burkle, or Fred, is no longer. Fred, as she was called, is the shell
in which I have been sentenced to live out my existence. Wesley loved Fred.
Wesley was helping me learn to live in this world despite how I entered it.
I feel grief for him like you. More violence must be shed for him. My wrath
is not yet complete,” explained Illyria.
“For Wes,” Faith whispered and followed Big Blue slaughtering tens of hundreds
in their vengeance.
~~~~~
(Five minutes later.)
Spike’s patience was wearing thin. Dana had been fighting by his side, humming
some vanilla pop princess’ song that was making him want to just let the hulking
purple lion-faced demon have at her. “Shut it, you silly bint,” he growled.
“Music helps me. My Watcher told me you liked her songs. To sing them to you
when I saw you. My apologies,” she said.
Dreading he knew the answer, he ventured, “Who’s your Watcher, little one?”
“The great Xander,” she beamed proudly.
Spike thanked whatever powers in the universe were responsible for his lack
of humanity at that moment, for he would have surely keeled over dead from that
declaration. Bloody Xander the Great, my arse.
“Well, Pinky, lay off that rot. Now, you can hum some White Stripes if ya’ like,
that’d be all right.”
~~~~~
(Twenty minutes later.)
Spike sensed it before he realized what had happened. Then, he heard Charlie
cry out from the alley, and Faith screaming. Something had happened to Peaches.
Something bad.
He asked Blue to watch over Dana. He had already begun to overlook their previous
dalliance. Yes, Pinky was starting to grow on him. It had to be the pigtails.
He rushed over to where it appeared Faith was vomiting. That wasn’t right. Rogue
never got sick on a mission. She looked up at Spike with tears in her eyes.
“I couldn’t get to him, Spike.”
Rona had used her jacket as a pillow under Angel’s head. Gunn was crying; his
bandages peppered with bloodstains. Angel looked like he had been put upon a
rack and then gored. Rona looked up at him with questioning eyes.
Guilt washed over his soul. He had lost track of Angel in the brouhaha. Angel
had been off somewhere northwest of him, out of the alley and into the street.
Some nasties had torn off his arms at the sockets and used something large to
stick through his middle. Angel was bleeding too much to survive these wounds,
despite Roni’s expert bandaging. The bleeding wasn’t stopping.
“Got ya with Holy water?” Spike asked softly. Angel nodded grimacing in pain.
Behind him, someone landed heavily on the pavement. That scent. Damn. He's
not supposed to be here.
“Father?”
Chapter Three
A/N: Warning: Chapter contains character death. Dialogue taken from ‘Origin’ & ‘Just Rewards.’
“Father!” cried Connor. As the boy stood from the crouched position he had landed
in, Spike followed Connor’s trajectory to figure out from where he had jumped
to enter the alley. Bugger, Superboy leaped from atop the roof of the Hyperion.
First Blue, now the boy; he really needed to work on his entrance.
He suppressed the tickle of pride he felt for the boy. Peaches had said his
nephew wasn’t going to be here.
****FLASHBACK**** Two weeks ago…
Standing in the shadows under the stairwell opposite Angel’s office, Spike had
watched the boy enter Daddy’s office. He had sensed something was off with the
lad when Peaches had introduced him the other day, but he had dismissed it.
Thought he had taken too many punches in the nose from little Shiva to account
for the scent.
The schoolboy smelled of Darla and Angel, and he just knew that couldn’t
be right. Just before Peaches and the boy had entered his "Thunderdome,"
the filthy harlot had knocked him clear out of the room and into the hallway.
But watching the Poof, he saw an Achilles’ heel he’d never known existed. The
Poof was actually unsure of how to react around the boy. The kid held all the
power. From all his time with Angelus, he knew that if he had still been truly
evil…had it not been for Buffy…this would have been something to exploit.
He'd regained memories of learning about Connor when some box was destroyed
by the ex-Watcher. He had learned that from Bluebird. Apparently, Wes had questions
about Angel and Fred and had thought the box had something to do with Fred’s
death. But it was worse than that. Much worse!
If Buffy had known all that Peaches didn’t tell her, she would have staked him
herself. Peaches knockin’ up Great-Grandma-now-Sis; Darla staking herself to
save the babe; Wes thinkin’ some balls-up prophesy of "the father will
kill the son" applied to Peaches; Wes nabbin’ said babe and getting his
throat slashed for his trouble; then the baby getting carried away to some alternate
universe by the Step-Dad from Hell, who just happened to have a personal hard-on
for Angel.
Fast forward a few months, boy coming back a parent’s worse nightmare, a bloody
teenager. The lad sleeping with evil Cordy an’ the two of them making this sodding
Jasmine bitch. Then top it all off with Connor threatenin’ to detonate enough
C-4 to create ocean front property for Death Valley. His head ached. Damm, he
needed a stiff drink.
He remembered hearing from Dru about her turning Darla, and thinking that her
coming back was not of the good. He smirked at his inner Buffy. Red had mentioned
Connor after she came back from re-souling the Poof. Ruddy Angel…always losing
his soul…such a nasty habit of his…need to tie a chain around it.
Buffy had not permitted herself to react to the news at all. She had been too
busy being little Miss General for the potentials.
And now he realized that when "tall, dark and forehead" had come round
to the Hellmouth that last time, Peaches had already had the memory spell in
place. Neither he nor Buffy had remembered Angel having a son. What a bloody
wanker!
Over the bustle of Wolfram & Hart’s employees, Spike heard Connor tell Peaches,
“I need to take care of my parents. This isn’t their world. They really don’t
feel safe here. You gotta do what you can to protect your family. I learned
that from my father.”
He fell back further into the shadows to watch as Connor prowled out of the
Poof’s office, with a predatory glint in his eye, to the elevator. Angel was
watching his sprog walk away from him. He could not see it, but the boy had
turned his head toward Angel causing some sort of reaction. He had to find out
what that was about.
After the elevator doors closed, Spike approached Angel, “So, that’s my nephew,
I take it.”
“Yeah,” Angel said, sighing wearily, “I did all this to protect him from those
memories, what he did, what he almost became…and it was all for nothing. I did
it all for nothing.”
“Ah mate, s’not like he looked devastated by the revelation. Seemed like he’s
coping with it and all that.” Spike shifted uncomfortably. He had come into
the room to poke fun, but what was the point if Angel was just pathetic? No
fun to be had.
He asked, “Is he going back to the Mum and Dad? Do they know who he is?”
“No, he wants it that way. I’m… no we’re going to respect that, okay? He wants
to be able to lead a normal life, and except for the fact that he has super
strength, he is completely human.” Angel stared directly in Spike’s eyes using
his old Sire link to emphasize his point.
“Fine, s’not like I care. Don’t know the brat anyway. Just as long as Connor
made the decision about his life this time, and not you. You tend to bully people
into choices they didn’t want to make simply because you think it’s best for
them,” Spike countered, knowing that Peaches would cringe at his reference to
Buffy.
“I had no choice last time with Connor’s memories, Spike…you weren’t there.”
“No, I wasn’t. Now, I am on the piss. And no, you aren’t soddin’ well invited.”
*************
(Back to the Alley…)
Spike noticed that while he was being concerned for Angel, the perimeter had
been broken. Something needed to be done quickly.
“Roni, Blue, Pinky…I need you three to stay alert. Try to back them out. We’ve
got to end this quickly. Faith and Gunn will be joining you soon. Keep it off
us as long as you can,” Spike ordered.
Blue paused and stood before Angel and Connor. “You will not persist much longer.
A poison designed to kill the dead and sprinkled with that noxious water of
the newer God has damaged you. As a leader, you had betrayed Wesley, but he
remained loyal to you. I shall abide by that loyalty and avenge you when you
pass from this existence.” She then went in pursuit of her next kill.
Spike walked over to Faith, cupped her chin making her look him in the eye,
“Faith… Rogue, I know you tried. I lost track of him, too. He’s my Grand-Sire.
Don’t ya think I feel that? No more tears, he would not want to see that. Go
make your peace with him.”
Spike walked Faith over to Angel’s side. While Faith knelt beside Connor, Spike
hovered over the three. He looked over at Gunn who was having trouble breathing.
Damn.
“Spike, I think I can save him,” said Faith with hope in her eyes.
“What are you on about, pet?”
“Illyria said Angel’s been poisoned with the ‘Killer of the Dead.’ I used that
on him before. That’s why Buffy allowed him to bite her…in order to save him.
He could bite me. Slayer’s blood is the cure for that.” Faith offered.
“No, Faith, you can’t,” whispered Angel, “It won’t work this time. It’s too
late. It wouldn’t be enough. It would take an army of slayers and an ocean more
to save me now. All your slayers couldn’t do that, and I would not ask you to
sacrifice yourself. Besides, they sprinkled just enough holy water to start
the burn inside…only enough so I could feel myself being eaten away.”
“Father, there has to be something we can do!” Frustration and grief taking
over Superboy’s stoic façade, he snapped, “Stop being such a girl! Weren’t you
supposed to be the ‘Scourge of Europe,’ some major bad ass? If Holtz taught
me anything, it was that Angelus always planned an escape. Come on, Father,
think of something to help you instead of just lying there and giving up.” He
turned away to compose himself for a moment; turning back to his father he spoke
once more, in a more subdued voice, "I'm sorry."
“Connor…son…I know. It’s okay. I am happy to see you, even though you aren’t
supposed to be here. Spike, if I didn’t know better I’d think you had a hand
in his growing up.” Angel tried to smile through the pain.
Spike shrugged, “Ta,’ about time the lad had a proper role model, Peaches.”
“Connor, you remember Captain Peroxide here, he’s your uncle…long story, and
he can explain it to you. Listen to him. I love you Connor…I want you to get
Gunn into the Hyperion. I’ve already had it blessed with a protection spell
as a precaution. Get him safely inside. Be happy, that’s all I ever wanted for
you. Don’t be angry that I’m dying, okay?”
“Okay,” Connor answered quickly with a smirk. After a beat, he continued, “Come
on, Father, with our history, you know I had to do that. And I want you to know
that I understand what you did. I love you too.” He bent down to whisper in
his father’s ear, “I’ll protect them all. Bye, Father.” With that Connor touched
Angel’s cheek, and then went to help Charlie inside the Hyperion’s back entrance.
“Cute kid; he’s sardonic, I like him. It’s hard to believe he’s yours and Darla’s
tyke,” Spike said, as he rolled his tongue behind his teeth and smiled.
“Yeah, he listens as well as you ever did,” Angel muttered. “I have some things
I must tell you, and we don’t have much time. In the hotel office safe, there
are papers. You need them. I knew coming into this fight tonight, I wouldn’t
be coming out of it. Earlier in the day, I signed away the Shanshu…”
“You what?! … you bleeding idiot…”
“William, shut up…it was never going to be mine. I had already realized it.
And after Rome, I realized what I should have known a long time ago…she’s yours.
I’ve seen the marks you’ve tried to hide, Spike. (He slipped into his old brogue)
Why do ya’ think I was so bloody angry, me boy?”
Spike was gobsmacked. The Poofter had seen Buffy’s bite marks on his neck but
had never let on. Blimey. But now he recalled the glower on Angel’s face
when he’d spat out, “You got no idea what we had!” He realized that when he
was doing his Casper impersonation Angel must have seen them.
“Angel, mate. What are you asking?”
“First, I want your blood oath to protect my son. As much as it kills me to
admit this, you protect the family. You protected Dru from me at times, and
I know that you keep your word. That’s who you are William. Do this for me.”
Spike had never seen such sincerity and dare he say, love, shining in the ninny’s
eyes ever. Well there was that one time... His soul and demon were touched
by such trust from his Grand Sire.
He took an unneeded breath. Slipping back into vamp face, he bent down to nick
a cut in Angel’s neck wary of the poison. He then sliced a cut on his palm placing
his cut over Angel’s neck. Letting the blood intermingle, Spike invoked, “Upon
my word, as your Childer and as a member of the Order of Aurelius, I vow to
protect your son ‘til I’m ashes.”
“Now William me boy, I need you to do me one last little favor. And as the Sire
of your Sire, ya’ can not refuse me this.”
“What do you want me to do, Angel?” Spike responded in a hushed whisper realizing
that just as Angel had slipped back into his Irish brogue, his voice had regained
William’s intonations.
“Stake me, end me torment. I cannot take the pain anymore. My innards are been
eaten away by both the water and the poison. Please, William.”
Angel’s sorrowful gaze tore at his soul, while his demon wanted to release havoc.
But havoc could not be released just yet. Sadly, Spike nodded, whispering his
agreement. He reached inside his duster for a stake. The crazy thought of that
old American Express advert flashed in his head, except his would say, “Wooden
stake, never leave home without one.”
“You’re still a dick, ya’ know. You shite, here’s what I've been bleeding dreaming
about for a right long time, an’ you have to soddin’ ruin this moment for me
by goin’ and serving yourself up to me on a ruddy silver platter. Bollocks.
You know, she’s goin’ to be brassed off at this…an’ you aren’t goin’ to have
to witness the fallout, you bloody wanker. No, don’t look at me like that, I’m
gettin’ round to it.” Right then, he positioned the stake over Angel’s heart.
“Goodbye, you right miserable bastard, would say it’s been a pleasure…but you’d
know I’d be lying.”
With that said, Spike plunged the stake into the bane of his unlife, and felt
bloody wretched about doing so. As Angel turned into dust, Spike could see him
form the words, “Thank you.”
~~~~~~
Flash of a rain-soaked alley filled with hideous demons. Flash of a dragon
being slain by an unseen hero. Flash of a blue leather clad woman smashing holes
in the faces of demons as she prowled through the horde. Flash of an image of
Faith, Rona and that new girl smiling at someone. Flash of a hauntingly familiar
leather duster with a hint of white blonde hair. Flashes…faster…more flashes
of great battle being waged. Final flash of a bloodied and broken Angel asking
someone to stake him, seeing Spike put an end to his pain.
“Angel! Spike!?!” the blonde awoke from her mid-afternoon nap. “No, it can’t
be. He died in Sunnydale. How could he be with Angel? Angel? Angel! Can’t be.”
Too late, Buffy felt her slayer senses scream at her. Two strong arms grabbed
her from behind holding her back down on the sofa. Before she had time to seriously
put a hurt on the offending party, she felt a needle being stuck in her neck.
Her eyes searched for who was doing this to her and why.
As her mind began feeling fuzzy, Buffy’s heart ran ice-cold as she heard, “It’s
done. My bella is ready for transport. Si, the money
was received into my account. Grazie.”
The Immortal! Buffy had been sleeping with an enemy. She had to get out of here,
but she couldn’t feel her arms or legs anymore. What had he given her?
“Ah, my bella, do not fret. Had you not awakened from your nap
earlier than planned, you would have not had have to endure this fright.” He
frowned. Why was he frowning, she thought.
“But you see, both your former pet vampires have made trouble for certain associates
of mine. They have started something that is distasteful, and unfortunately
for you, you must now play a part of that game.”
Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, but she managed to ask,
“My pet vampires?”
The Immortal gazed upon her as if she were a little child, “Why, yes, your Angel
and Spike of course.” He turned his gaze to whatever goon was behind her. “Now,
take her to the Wolfram & Hart office.”
Spike’s alive…and with Angel? was her last thought before the darkness completely
enveloped her.
~~~~~
Chapter Four
A/N: Thanks to Q for her awesome help with Faith.Spike sought out the positions of the rest of his band of merry soldiers. They
needed to regroup. He knew that the sun would be up in about an hour. They had
to hurry and finish this if he still wanted to be a part of it.
“Rogue, Tender, Blue, Pinky, Sparky… to me, in a V…fight and talk strategy…same
time.”
Pinky was actually skipping to join him. Silly chit. Faith and Connor
exchanged nods as they battled their way to meet. Blue just steamrolled her
way through any idiot demon that thought her tiny size meant easy pickings…had
they just arrived? Roni had tied her dreads back in a knot, blood on her brow…she
was using the Docs on her feet to stomp the bloody hell out of some miserable
bugger. Good girl.
“Sun’s coming up soon…an’ I have a serious aversion to being crispy…ideas are
welcome…one time offer,” he said.
Rogue got a wild look in her eyes. “Girls, I think it’s time, don’t you. This
party’s starting to blow…aren’t you guys getting bored?” Roni and Pinky exchanged
secretive smiles.
Before he could respond, Blue beat him to the punch, “You are a strange one.
You speak in riddles. You are tiring, your body weakening. This battle is too
much for you, even though you three humans have more power than most. I find
it tiresome that you trifle with such amusement. You three have joined our battle,
but were not invited to it. It is distasteful that you mock this war. Wesley
and now Angel have fallen victim to it. You mock their memories. Spike has my
loyalty…he showed me Crash Bandicoot…took me outside. Angel’s son and Spike
will not be mocked….”
“It’s alright, Blue…” Spike stopped her before she decided to use Faith as her
new play toy. “You’ll learn that’s just how Rogue is; she didn’t mean any harm
by it. An’ I took no offense.” Turning to Faith, he asked, “But I would like
to know just what in the bloody hell you are on about? Time for what?”
During Blue’s diatribe, Roni and Dana had taken defending positions in front
of Rogue. All three relaxed at the question. Faith nodded at the other two,
who then retrieved two backpacks they had stowed behind some boxes near to where
Roni had earlier placed Charlie.
Looking questionably at Faith, he asked, “What have you chits got planned, Rogue?”
“We brought some extra goodies… that Dana’s Watcher thought might come in handy.”
Spike was sure that Rogue didn’t know Pinky had let on earlier that Xander was
her Watcher…for some reason she was keeping that fact under wraps. What “goodies”
did the Whelp have them bring? Donuts? Snacks?
Roni opened hers first. Pulling out a portable flame-thrower, Tender put it
together and lit it up, “Do you like, Billy boy? It has a range of 15-feet,
and it’s collapsible so I can fold it into my backpack…neat, eh?”
“Bloody hell. Why didn’t you bring that baby out to play earlier? We could have
been out of here long ago.”
“It doesn’t stay lit for very long, Spike. I’m sorry. It’s still just a prototype
and can only be used for like, five minutes, tops. It’s for backup only,” Roni
answered softly.
“S’alright…I see now,” he turned to Dana, “What’s in your bag, Pinky?”
That sound…. he’d heard it a year ago…it sings. No, it couldn’t be. He closed
and then reopened his eyes; he had to be to be sure that what he was seeing
was real.
In Psycho Slayergirl’s hands was the deadliest weapon he had ever come across…Buffy’s
Scythe.
He vamped, “What did you bints do to her? That’s Buffy’s.” He could feel Junior
holding him back from attacking Dana, whose smile had turned into a confused
frown. “She’s not dead…I’d feel it…so you had to do something to her to have
that now. I’ll ask again…what…did…you…bints…do…to…my…Slayer?”
“B’s five by five, Spike. Don’t sweat it, I promise. She gave me this baby when
she went to Europe. Rona and I felt terrible about what went down that night,
what with throwing her out and all. But after…well, you know…I took over Cleveland,
and well, the scythe, it came with the package. I’m not arguing that it’s hers,
man, damn straight it is! When she wants it back, it’s hers…no question! I’ll
give it to her. Come on, you’re making Precious cry.”
Spike calmed a bit, noticing that in fact Pinky did have tears in her eyes…still
holding the scythe like some prize she’d won at the fair. He was such a tosser.
Never could stand to watch a bint cry.
“S’okay Con, you can let me go now.” Moving over to Pinky, Spike patted her
awkwardly on the shoulder, his fingers protesting loudly. “Hush now ducks, no
need for that…’twas a bit of a shock, that’s all. Now, are you going to show
me what you can do with that?”
“No toys for you, Rogue?”
“Nah, you know me, Bleachy…I like to get my hands dirty.”
“Right then, enough of the blabber…let’s get this done…we’ve got Charlie waiting
for us inside the hotel. Now, off with you lot.”
~~~~
With the additions of the Slayer’s scythe and the flame-thrower, the remaining
hundreds of the horde were quickly culled. Battling the last remaining dregs,
Spike’s senses tingled with the onset of the sun’s rising. He had to get inside
and soon. No sooner than he’d thought that did he realize that the demons were
beating a hasty retreat.
“They must be allergic to the sun as well.” Faith panted next to him. “We’ve
got to get you inside. It looks like the show's over out here anyway.”
Spike followed his merry little troop to the back entrance of the Hyperion hotel.
~~~~~~
(Interior of the Hyperion Hotel)
The place could have used a good cleaning. Apparently, Peaches had not kept
the place decent for company since signing with the Evil Lawyers-R-Us. Papers
were strewn across the floor, cobwebs decorated the nooks and crannies, and
there was an odor…sewage…a pipe must have burst. Not that he minded, place kind
of reminded him of his old haunt, the Factory…now, that place
exuded atmosphere.
As Spike was taking in the ambiance, the others had gone to work. Rona, with
Connor’s help, had set up a makeshift medic station on the circular couch in
the center of the room. Faith had taken out crystals from her bag and had gone
about setting them at all the entrances. Brilliant-extra layer of protection,
he thought. Dana was out of her sneakers and was busy cleaning the scythe and
other weapons. Blue was observing Charlie, who was resting on a sofa that Connor
must have pulled out for him earlier. Charlie’s heartbeat had strengthened;
he was going to make it.
“Glad to see you still this side of the living, Charlie boy,” Spike teased after
he had walked up to Gunn’s prone form and sniffed, “But you could use a wash…the
entrails don’t suit ya.”
“Well, Sid Fangless, I always considered you a winter…but that green slime does
nothing for your complexion,” Gunn parried.
“Sod off, you twit, you have the luxury of not having to wear it…Roni here is
going to check up on you …oh, and Blue here too.”
“Yes. I am happy that ‘Roni’ arrived in time to counter the damage you have
received. I would have not been pleased to have witnessed your death,” added
Illyria.
“Thanks, Blue Thunder…I saw you kick some righteous demon butt before I got
hustled in here. Wesley would have been proud.”
“Gunn, Blue…ladies…I need to chat with Junior for a bit. Won’t be long…and then
you’ll explain everything to me,” Spike stated, staring meaningfully at Faith.
“Junior…step into the office.”
~~~~~
Spike followed Connor into what appeared to be the office. Bookshelves, desk
and chairs were still arranged as if the room had been waiting for its owner
to reclaim them. He needed to clear the air with Junior, make sure no resentments
would be coming back to bite him in the arse.
As he started to speak, Connor rushed forth, “Uncle Spike…I’m glad he asked
you. It’s strange. The memories are still so twisted, but I remember that I
had wanted him dead…had actually come close several times to dusting him when
I first returned. Do you know about the ocean?” he asked sheepishly.
“No, he didn’t tell me about that…just that you had issues. But what father
and son don’t have ‘em?”
“I left him to die at the bottom of the ocean…sealed in a crate provided with
a barred window, so he could watch the fish.” Junior kept his eyes focused on
his feet, “I was so angry…I didn’t understand. It was time wasted.”
Spike couldn’t help it…he laughed. First time in a long while he’d been able
to do that. Oh, his sides were hurting…blood tears were forming. Noticing the
lad’s shocked reaction, Spike quickly wiped away the tears and tried to calm
the laughter. “Sorry…Con…it’s just that…bloody hell…I would have brought popcorn
and paid kittens to see that. What a show and I bleedin' missed it! And you
had him down there…’swimming with the fishes!’ Come on…tell me that’s not funny.”
Finally, Spike saw Sparky crack a smile. Knew he had it in him. The boy had
potential, all right.
Sobering up, Spike continued, “Now, Peaches told me there was some paperwork
in a safe somewhere in here…you know where that might be?”
“Yes, this was my Father’s, and then Wesley’s office. The safe is over there…I
still know the combination…and do I want to know why you called him Peaches?”
Connor blabbed as he moved to the safe, opened it, and removed its contents.
“No, you really don’t. Let’s see what me old Sire, your Da, has left for us
to find.”
Sorting through the papers, Spike found two envelopes addressed to him, and
one envelope addressed to Connor. The twit had been spot on in the alley when
he said that he had known he wasn’t going to survive the battle. And he was
holding the proof. Handing Junior his letter, Spike examined his.
Ever the controlling tosser, Peaches had marked "Open First" and "Spike,
Open the Other One First" on the envelopes. Shaking his head
at the nerve, Spike ripped open the second envelope. Peaches bloody knew him
so well:
Spike:
I knew you couldn’t resist one last defiance; at times you were so easy to predict.
If you are reading this, then Cordelia’s vision has come to pass, and I am done
with my part in the bigger picture. I know you don’t cater to any Powers That
Be…but they chose you for a reason. Though I am loathe to see why. You are still
a pathological, idiotic, limey piece of crap who never knew when to shut it,
but you are without a doubt a brave hero.
Don’t get your knickers in a twist…this will stop being sentimental right now.
The defeat of the Circle of the Black Thorn was the sounding bell. The battle
that was just waged was just the first skirmish. Lindsay was correct in that
the fight is ongoing. You have some time before the major battle will be fought.
In the other envelope are copies of deeds to this hotel, some other properties,
bank account numbers with pass codes and the deed to the jet. Ask Gunn. We secretly
arranged the purchase of the jet under Hamilton’s not-so watchful eye. Both
you and Connor are the new proud owners of my estate.
Take care of him and tell Buffy that I don’t want her to take it out on you.
Be a champion, William.
Angel
Spike re-read the letter one more time then looked over at his nephew. Connor
was shaking with grief. Bugger all, and the lad had been holding up so well.
“S’alright Connor…now let’s find out to what we owe the pleasure of the company
of the Slayerettes.”
He waited a moment while Connor composed himself. The lad really was impressing
him. Together they strolled back out into the lobby.
~~~~
“Right then Rogue…let’s cut to the chase shall we? Enough time has passed. What
brought our little problems to the attention of the Slayerettes, and how in
the bleeding hell did you ‘pop’ in here?” Spike demanded, fixing his attention
solely on Faith.
Faith began, “Well, it started when a seer at the Coven got a message from Tara….”
Chapter Five
(Lobby of Hyperion Hotel)
“Glinda? But she’s…” shock was overtaken by a sliver of fear, “Is the First
back?” Spike stammered. Glinda. His undead heart mourned for the blonde witch…the
only one who had seemed to really accept the possibility of a relationship between
him and the Slayer. He growled, “Rogue, you better be quick with this, ‘cause
I’m feeling a bit peckish, an’ right now I might be willing to overlook that
I’m a soddin white hat!”
“Chill out, man…it’s cool. First’s not back. This Seer checked everything out,
crossed all the T’s and dotted all the I's. ‘Cause you know everyone’s still
on the alert for any sign of The First. So, this Seer-witch happened to be in
Cleveland, had a nasty bit of business, nothing we couldn’t handle of course…anyway,
she was in my backyard. No, really in my backyard.”
He raised his eyebrow. As long as he had known Faith, she had only lived out
of cheap motels or behind prison bars.
“Hey, I’m a homeowner, what of it? We have a benefit package. Geez, do you want
to hear this or not?” she huffed.
“Go on, s’not as if I’m stoppin’ ya, is it?” he snarled.
“So yeah, Tara was allowed by the Powers That Be to serve as their messenger
on this one. And her message was a doozy, too. Tara said that ‘those of the
light’ had been worried about Angelcakes ever since Cordy up and died, breaking
their link. Yeah, even though they had Cordy give him some vision dream or something,
they still didn’t know what side he would choose. Already had that little issue
about him and Acathla and then something about Junior and Jasmine. Who’s this
Jasmine chick, by the way? Nah, never mind. Hey, get this Bleachy…man, they’ve
been watching you since before Drusilla got a hold of you. Yeah, you’ve always
been special to them. Some kind of master plan. Ain’t that a kick in the ass,”
Faith paused a second before continuing, wearing a big smile, with a smudge
of mustard yellow goo on her brow.
Feelings of surprise and anger began to overwhelm Spike. He was not
some plaything for some blasted Powers. To be kicked around, manipulated into
doing their bidding. Sod it all, he was William the Bloody, Spike! And no one,
be it demon, human, or God would tell him how to run his life. But he had to
reign in his emotions and listen to the information Faith had to share. The
Powers had used Glinda…and Glinda at least he would listen to.
Faith was continuing her explanation, “Okay, so Tara told this Seer chick that
she needed to tell Dana’s Watcher to help Spike. That his time was now, whatever
that meant. That Angel and Spike would be striking a blow against Evil, Inc.,
but they would need the help of three slayers to last through the first battle.
Tara okayed me, and Dana and Rona volunteered. Boy when I heard you were alive,
I wanted to get my ass to L.A. to do a couple of shots. But Tara’s message also
contained a warning. Those of us trusted with the message could not tell Giles,
Buffy and Dawn. Telling any of them would put their lives in immediate danger.
Tara told us to be here, we’re here. Seer-witch knew a translocation spell and
how to focus it. Got a few of her coven to help her with the mojo and after
a nice shower of glitter, we ‘popped’ in here. But now that we’ve done what
we were sent here for, let’s get the hell out of L.A. ‘Cause gotta say, Cleveland
is looking better and better, and that’s tragic.”
Spike’s attention focused on the warnings about Buffy and Dawn and about those
who were trusted. “Rogue…so you say this ‘Seer’ chit, who happens to be in Cleveland
with you, gets a ‘message’ from Glinda, given to her by those Wankers That Be,
sayin’ to bring yourself and two slayer pals with you to help me an’ the Grand
Poof strike a blow against Evil Inc. And you wot…thought ‘slamming good time,
let’s ‘pop’ on in'? And Rona…you volunteered? Come on…you (pointing to Rona)
never liked me in good old Sunnyhell and Pinky here…well, let’s just say my
fingers still tingle from our last meeting.” His anger had reached its peak;
his voice reverberated throughout the walls of the old hotel as he continued
hammering away at all the holes he saw in her explanation. “You talked about
some secret message from Tara to Pink’s Watcher…but who is yours, Faith, and
yours, Roni? Just who in the bleeding hell was trusted with this ‘message’…that
was the brain trust behind this operation?”
Dana had scooted forward during Faith’s explanation. She looked as if she wanted
to add something to the conversation, but was too shy to do so in front of all
the different people. Strange that she been so carefree out slaughtering the
demons outside, but in here with her fellow Slayers and other normal people
... scratch that … one regular person with artificially enhanced lawyer knowledge
embedded in his brain, one offspring of two master vampires and one master vampire
with a soul…she seemed almost tongue-tied. Pinky was shuffling her bare feet
and twirling a finger around one of her ponytails.
“Err…umm…Spike,” Pinks stammered, “could you…umm…come over here?” She motioned
her head to a corner near the stairwell away from the others.
“All right, give me a second, ducks,” he cast a warning glance at Faith and
Rona to stay put before he went to see what troubled his hand-removing psycho-slayer.
The fact that neither Faith nor Rona had named Dana’s Watcher raised the hackles
on his neck. They were still playing close to the ves; better to see what Psycho
wanted to tell him and play it from there.
“Right, pet…what is it you want to tell Ol’Spike?” he asked softly.
“When I was confused and hurt you and the Angel one stopped me, Mr. Andrew came
with others like me. It was very hard. Brown walls. Yellow walls. No one understood
me like you tried to do. I didn’t understand that I was seeing through the eyes
of those that came before me. But then came Mr. Eye Patch and he made jokes.
He painted my room at the Council lavender and made me a blue weapons chest.
No more brown. No more yellow. I told him about you. He didn’t believe me. Thought
I was seeing the other two …before you were good. Then one day, he came to me
and said he believed me. He was going to be my Watcher and would I like to come
live with him. He helped me become me again. I know I am still
not whole. I am trying. Then he sent me to Faith…said he had to go check out
something about a beautiful necklace. When he came back, he told me that he
‘might be able to help Spike’. That his Ahn would want him to. He cries over
his Ahn at night when he doesn’t know I am awake. He will be waiting for us.”
She poured this out in a hushed whisper, still very child-like in her delivery.
So Xander wanted to help him for Anya’s sake. And the Whelp had apparently made
some discovery about the nifty little amulet that had allowed him to bring the
bloody Hellmouth down. First Glinda, and now Monkey boy. Perhaps the blonde
witch was trying to tell Xander something in her little message to him hidden
within the bigger one. Bugger all, his life was getting complicated.
“Shush now, Pinks, not to worry. I’m not angry with you,” he whispered to her
surprising himself that in fact it was the truth…he had forgiven
her. “Now, let me ask you, do you know why Faith and Rona haven’t told me who
your Watcher is?”
“Nope. But he said to tell his old roommate he has a box of Wheetabix ready
for him in Cleveland with some marshmallows,” she said looking up at him with
hopeful eyes.
He had already been shocked more times tonight than he had in probably the last
thirty years of his unlife, but to learn that the glorified construction worker
and snack obtainer, regular dog’s body, had not only purchased him a box of
Wheetabix but had extended an invite through his slayer was too much. The Whelp…the
cantankerous sore on the arse of humanity…in truth, the only one who probably
hated Angel more than he did…had reached out a friendly hand.
Connor had walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Uncle, are
you all right?”
“Ta, Connor,” he said appreciating that his nephew cared about his well-being.
Noticing Pinks heartbeat had increased since Connor had approached them and
a slight flush was appearing in her cheeks, he smiled inwardly at the crush
the slayerette had on his nephew. “Connor, have you met Dana, no? …well, Pinky
here survived her own ‘hell dimension,’ so to speak…brave chit she is…got the
best of me…not many alive can say that. Well, Junior, the two of you need to
wash up…will you show her where she can get the blood off?”
“Sure, Uncle Will; come on, Dana, I’ll show you the best rooms in the hotel.”
He watched their progress up the stairs before turning back toward the rest
of the room.
“Charlie, my boy…ya think you can make it up the stairs, or is there a place
down here where you can get clean?” he asked, wanting to clear the lobby of
all but him and the two remaining slayers. While he was anxious to rid himself
of the noxious scent of the blood and fluids of those he had slain, his need
could wait. As a Master vampire, he had had to endure much worse than the inconvenience
currently presented.
Gunn, who was never one to be slow on the uptake, and for that Spike was pleased,
answered, “Yeah, Spike, I can make it to the second floor. My old room is not
too far. Be glad to get into some fresh gear. Don’t be too long yourself…got
to take care of your duster. That’s your trademark.”
Blue cocked her head to the side and said, “I will stay here. You wish to speak
with these two ‘slayers’ alone. There is no wisdom in this. When once I walked
with my Old Ones, there was a demon who was without form but very powerful.
It craved violence. It was but an insignificant gnat. I have sensed that demon
resting inside those three ‘slayers.’ While this one you call Rona has been
helpful in healing Gunn, the one you call Rogue has been withholding information.
If you would wish it, I would take pleasure in playing our game with her.”
Faith had the common sense to look scared. Spike tried not to smile. Their bloody
game. When Illyria first arrived, it had been left to him to find out what her
physical attributes were. In the blinding white room that still gave him unpleasant
reminders of the Initiative, they faced off like two gladiators of old. Blue
had just suggested that she square off against Faith to learn all.
“S’okay, Bluebell. Stay if you like. Faithy and Roni are gonna answer my questions,
if they want to leave here at all.”
Rona jumped at the cue first, “Spike…I want you to know. I did
volunteer. Look, you’re right. In Sunnydale, I was still just a potential, scared
that I was going to die like Eve and Chloe. I was supposed to be a vampire slayer
and yet Buffy said you were off the hit list. And all she did was lecture; I
was young…I didn’t understand. That night was real messed up. You came back
and she was gone…then when you both were back, nothing was said. Buffy told
us how you saved us all. That’s why I am here, Spike.”
“This one does not deceive you,” Blue started.
He interrupted, “I know Shiva, vampire here, remember? …heart rates…I’m a bloody
polygraph. Apology accepted, Tender…why don’t you go find Pinks and wash up?”
“Thanks, Billy boy,” Rona smiled, “I am really happy that I could help here
today.” With that she ran up the stairwell in search of her fellow slayer.
“Now, Faithy…it’s just you, me and Blue here. Why don’t we start off real nice
an’ easy…who’s your Watcher?” he asked.
“Wood,” Faith let out the breath she had been holding, “he and I are still together.
Really against the rules, but when have I ever been a follower of the rules?
We hold down Cleveland. Got a second Council HQ there…sort of home-away-from-home
for some of the girls.”
“So, Wood knows that you are here and about the message, right?”
“Well yeah, Robin helped secretly arrange Rona’s help. She’s usually in the
Chicago area. Her Watcher is someone you’ve never met. His name is Adam. He
was a retired Watcher in another division who returned after the bombing to
help rebuild. Yeah, apparently Watchers don’t only watch us slayers.”
“And who is Dana’s Watcher? And why do you call her ‘Precious’?”
“You’re not going to like it, Spike. Man, this is why I didn’t want to tell
you…cause you know the guy and you two hate each other. Okay…it’s Xander. And
why don’t you look, you know, surprised?”
“Pinky told me during the battle…was waiting for you to tell me, ducks. So,
Xander’s a Watcher…must be loving the research.”
“When Andrew brought Dana to the Council, Xander was in Africa. No one could
get through to her. Xander had come back for a visit. Went right in to see her
and it was like she was completely changed. Yeah, I always had him pegged for
being the fool, but with her, man, you would have been amazed.”
Buzzz….buzz….buzz…buzz….
“Hold on…that’s my phone,” Faith rifles through her bag and hurriedly answers,
“Hey babe. Yeah, I’m five by five. Girls are good. Angel not so much. Spike
is still undead… he’s… oh… okay… hold on…" (to Spike) "He’s handing
the phone over to Xander who wants to talk to you.”
Holding the tiny red cellphone, Spike could hear Wood’s breathing, some shuffling,
and finally the Whelp grabbing the phone.
“Spike…are you there? Hey, Bleached Wonder…come on …(to Wood) no one is there…Spike,
I need to tell you something important…it’s about Buffy.”
“What about Buffy? Does she know about me?” he growled into the cell gripping
it tightly.
“Spike, get your undead ass to Cleveland. I don’t care how you do it, but do
it. We can’t teleport you back here, so maybe a plane or something. If you still
have that old piece of junk you called a car, get in it and drive like the bat
out of hell you are and get here. She and Dawn have been kidnapped. It looks
like Wolfram & Hart…inside job…maybe the Immortal. Slimy piece of work, but
I was in no position to tell her that.”
“Whelp, if I got on a plane why in the bloody hell would I stop in Cleveland
if Buffy’s somewhere in Rome? I’ve got to help her. She’s my…” he stopped himself.
Was she still? Until it was proven otherwise, he was going with yes.
Xander kept prattling on, “I know…but you have to come here first. I have something
that you need. I can’t talk about it over the phone. This is Buffy and Dawn…come
on, you know despite anything, when it comes to them… well, I put them first.
Spike, I can help you help them. Just get here. Put Faith back on.”
“Shut your bleeding gob, you git. I’ll be there, but I’m bringing mates. Got
to make them comfy like. Three more. I own a plane now….yes, I’ll load them
all up. Oh, by the way mate, your slayer is full of beans…she did good.” For
some reason he wanted the Whelp to know Pinks was fine, especially after what
both the bit and Faith had said.
“Thanks, Spike…see you in Cleveland…now, let me talk to Faith.”
Handing the phone over to Faith, Spike pulled Blue to the side. He needed both
of them cleaned and ready to go. He didn’t know what she required in that direction.
She seemed to sense what he was trying to ask her.
“I require minimum maintenance. I will find an appropriate place to address
my wounds and remove this filth.” And with that, Illyria headed up the stairs.
Nodding over to Faith, he motioned up the stairs, indicating she should freshen
up after finishing the phone call.
Once up stairs, he hollered down the hallway, “Right, you lot, in fifteen minutes
we’re leaving and heading for the airport. Be ready. No stragglers.”
+++++++++++
(Rome, Italy)
It was dark. She was cold. She was hungry. And she was pissed.
Upon awakening, Buffy realized she had regained some of her Slayer senses, but
they were still too weak. Her friendly, neighborhood kidnappers had provided
her with such luxury accommodations, she thought sarcastically. No light, no
heat, just a mattress with a thin blanket. She had started yelling for help
when she realized that the metal walls seemed to muffle her voice. They had
soundproofed the room.
A buzzer sounded. A voice, female, with a heavy Italian accent, started giving
her instructions. “Ah, Miss Buffy, you are awake, I see. Good. Please be so
kind as to move to the back wall. You will be moved to a much nicer room where
you can join your sister.”
Dawn? They have Dawnie. She would find the Immortal and all who
are doing this to them and slowly torture them. She wasn’t supposed to kill,
but for this she might make an exception.
“Ah yes, we have your sister. She is quite comfortable, but she is so worried
for you. I think it would be best if you were to join her. Now, step to the
back wall.”
Buffy followed the commands, biting the inside of her cheek. She was feeling
her strength returning, she might be able to make a break for it now…but without
knowing where Dawnie was she couldn’t risk it. Better to play along. Hiding
a smirk by looking at her bare feet, Buffy thought Spike would be impressed
at her restraint.
Tears threatened to form, but she held them at bay. Not yet, have to tell Dawn.
His Nibblet. She rubbed the marks at her neck. His marks. She knew it was silly,
but just touching his mark made her feel safe. He would come for her and there
would be hell to pay.
The door opened. Two men in Italian suits with guns pointed stepped in the room.
A third man stepped inside holding handcuffs.
Wordlessly, she held out her hands in front of her. Seeing if they would be
stupid enough to cuff her in front. If they did, it would be helpful information
in the future. They did. The guy obviously hadn’t dealt in law enforcement or
in the military.
The voice came to life again, “Do not attempt anything Miss Buffy. We have our
guards on your sister as I speak. Just allow them to take you to her.”
Buffy nodded to the voice, wherever it was coming from, and silently followed
the goons.
As she walked down the corridor, she noticed the logo for Wolfram & Hart. Angel
& Spike must have done something huge to have forced W&H to dare make such a
move. Recalling her Slayer dream, she knew it was a huge battle, but she wasn’t
sure what had caused it. Maybe Spike cheated someone in kitten poker, a half-smile
forming on her face.
Eventually they came to a room. A steel door was unlocked and opened. Inside
was a plush completely furnished room complete with kitchenette and bathroom.
But most importantly, on the bed curled up into a ball was her sister.
Once she was uncuffed, she ran to Dawn, pulling her into a tight hug. Mindful
of Dawn’s non-slayerness, Buffy eased up on the hug…caressing her sister’s hair.
Together, she thought…we’ll get through this together.
“Come and find us, Spike…we love you,” she whispered closing her eyes and falling
asleep next to Dawn.
Chapter Six
(On the newly christened Love’s Bitch flying from Los Angeles to Cleveland)
“Charlie boy, are you sure about our pilot? The bloke looks a bit like a duffer,”
Spike asked rolling his eyes to the front of the plane. It had been a harrowing
experience just trying to get everyone out of the Hyperion via the sewers to
where he had stored his precious De Soto, cram everyone into his baby, and then
burn asphalt until they reached the LAX private airstrip hanger. Then, the cloak
and dagger of Charlie doing birdcalls to some previously unknown codger who
probably hadn’t flown since Korea to sneak on the jet.
“Just chill, Fang. Rufus knows his stuff. He used to work for our former employers,
but only doing light transport. Luckily for him, he wasn’t one of those made
to sign on the blood oath dotted line. Besides, he owes me a few favors…bailed
his granddaughter out of a sticky custody mess with a Brachen demon a while
back,” Gunn assured him.
The plane had taxied down the runway without a hitch. However, they'd had to
file a false flight plan to throw off any unwanted welcoming committees. Apparently,
Rufus had come up with a few ideas of his own. Once they had cleared the tower
and had been in flight for an hour, he made an emergency call to a nearby airport
requesting a change of flight plan, while at the same time switching some beacon
emitting their jet’s code to air traffic control. To anyone who was watching,
it would appear that the jet had crashed somewhere over Wyoming.
Spike had turned his attention to his passengers, recalling that the last time
he had been on this plane it had been with the Great Poof on their way back
from Rome and the disastrous "head" affair. Rome…and Buffy, with her
bouncing hair, in that nightclub dancing, like the first time he had ever seen
her. Knowing that she had been kidnapped and he was trapped half way around
the world made him feel as useless as he had when he was first chipped by the
Initiative. He needed to get his mind off Buffy, and what they might be doing
to her, in order for him to not completely tear up his smashing new jet.
Everyone had freshened up and changed clothes at the hotel. Well, Blue was in
her regular armor attire, he wasn’t sure what she had done to address her wounds.
Gunn was wearing his street gear, a jeans jacket with dark blue jeans and a
red tee. Faith was in her typical red leather pants, black cami-top, black leather
jacket with heavy makeup and black boots. Rona was adorned in a style familiar
to him from Sunnydale – jean overalls, purple tank, Docs and a green bandana
wrapped loosely around her dreads. Pinky’s style was, even in his opinion, adorable
– wearing cropped faded jeans, pink high-top sneakers, a white t-shirt and pink
sleeves emblazoned with the logo ‘I’m a brat!', she had her hair again in two
pigtails, but instead of leaving them to hang, had taken two long pink ribbons
and wrapped them around to have her hair similar to the "Witch Hunter Robin"
anime chit. His nephew, the Destroyer, had changed out of his preppie wear to
a nice respectable street punk look – black jeans, dull green t-shirt and brownish-green
jean jacket. Of course, Spike was in his usual attire, spiffed up slightly for
the occasion with a touch of color; under his black duster, he was wearing black
jeans, a black t-shirt, and red button-up shirt. Yeah, the red shirt…he had
not worn that in a very long time.
“So, Slayerettes, give your old chum the news on the rest of the gang from our
days in Sunnyhell,” he queried, suppressing the small growl that had threatened
to escape.
Rona decided she would take on Spike’s question, especially since there was
one Slayerette in particular she wanted to pass along the word about. “Well,
Spike, I gotta give you the 411 about the pushy bitch from hell, Kennedy. Faith
is no longer the textbook definition of a rogue slayer. Kennedy has decided
she wants the Bad Ass Backstabbing Murdering Bitch Slayer crown all for herself.
She went, as she describes it, 'a little overboard' and slaughtered five innocent
humans, two of which were children. Children…Billy boy…little boy and a little
girl, not more than six years old. All because they happened to get in her way.
Well, the bitch is in a secured prison in South America where even her rich
daddy’s money can’t bail her ass out. And unlike Faithy, we have Kennedy locked
away behind enhanced steel bars…she’ll never get out…ever.”
All in the small cabin of the jet felt her vehemence over the betrayal of the
calling. Gunn moved over next to her, offering his shoulder to lean on if she
wanted it. Spike smiled inside looking at the interesting development that was
taking place between the two street-wise and world-weary soldiers of their merry
little gang.
Faith spoke up at this awkward moment, “Umm, well I still say I am the original
Rogue Slayer, and I broke the mold after the Powers made me. So K will have
to buy her own damn crown.”
Good on Rogue to try to lighten the mood. Spike asked, “What about Red?”
“Red? Oh, the Goddess is sad that her honey went all dark slayer, but really,
who better to understand how that could happen, right? But Wills, no, she read
her aura or something and just left. Said she couldn’t help her. Went back to
the main Coven in Westbury. She’s all single girl now…being all Mary Tyler Moore
‘she’s gonna make it after all’ or whatnot,” answered Faith.
She continued, “Giles has been heading up the Council HQ in London, trying to
reestablish old contacts, working on recruitment, all that administrative stuff
that just screams to those who wear tweed. Since Seer chick vision-o-rama, our
little branch has not been sending the ‘A’ book reports to G-man. So, not sure
what G knows right now. Robin will know when we get home.”
“Let me ask you this…where was Andrew assigned after dropping Pinky off with
you?” He knew he had seen the little tosser in Rome, but they didn’t know that.
Besides if his Slayer and Nibblet were kidnapped where was Andrew during all
this?
“Well, at first, he was in Rome with Buffy and Dawnie. But we haven’t heard
from him in over two months now,” Rona replied.
“Me and Peaches saw the budding filmmaker in Rome on business, had stopped by
to see the Slayer who was out with her latest, and then the little wanker takes
off with two Italian belladonnas, him acting all James bloody Bond,” Spike grumbled.
Faith and Rona exchanged confused looks. Faith asked, “Have you been hitting
the Jack again, Bleachy? 'Cause man, Andy is gay – you know, light in the loafers.
Last we heard he was dating Dorian, some art student at the same school as Dawnie.”
“Wait a bleeding minute…you mean to tell me that our Andy is the Poofter I always
thought he was? Okay…but if that’s true, then who the bloody hell was that in
Buffy’s apartment that chatted all nice like with Peaches and me? ‘Cause mates,
the arse that was there was straight as a board. And you haven’t heard from
Andy in over two months?” Spike mulled this over in his mind. If the Andrew
he'd seen in Rome was not the real Andrew, then who was the bastard? And how
long had he been planted in his Buffy’s apartment, watching her and manipulating
her?
He raged on, “The sodding bastards! We got to get this sorted! What did you
chits know about Buffy and this Immortal wanker?”
“Oh, Guido,” Rogue piped up, “Yeah, man; well, never met him. B though just
keeps on raving about the guy. Umm sorry Blondie. He answered the phone once
when I rang her up, had this nasally sounding voice; rude as hell when I didn’t
fawn all over the phone, and after me basically threatening to come to Rome
to kick his ass, he put B on the phone. She just acted like nothing had happened,
straight out of Stepford, man. And Dawnie is just as bad. Li'l Sis acts like
she did when she was twelve, crushing on the Xan-man.”
“Yeah, I got that too, Faith, when I had to call about some thing Adam asked
me to report about. D was all 'the Immortal this, and the Immortal that.' Made
me want to just throw up. So, what…Spike, you think something is up with that?
Does Xander think the Immortal helped bag Buffy and Dawn?” Rona added.
He feels gutted. It was all there right under his bloody nose! But he had been
so busy pissing around with General Grumpypants that he'd missed all the blatant
clues.
Connor interjected, sensing his uncle’s anger, “Ladies, it appears we're almost
to Cleveland. I suggest that we hold off on making with the plans until we find
out what more has been learned. We probably have about another forty-five minutes
left; so I suggest, if you can get a quick nap, reserve your energy. We don’t
know what lies ahead.”
The Slayerettes nod in agreement. Faith moved back to her seat more towards
the front of the cabin. Dana stood to move with her, but before she left, she
stopped, giving Spike’s hand a tight squeeze for support. Spike looked up at
Pinky with thanks. Gunn and Rona took the seats in the back of the cabin where
Gunn could stretch out his legs, helping his injuries heal. Blue stayed near
the front of the cabin with Faith and Dana to observe their nature.
Connor stayed in the seat across the aisle from his uncle.
With a bit of humor, Spike realized on his last plane ride, he and Angel had
been in the same seats.
“Ta, Junior,”
“None needed, Uncle Will."
“Boy, no one calls me Will…not even her, and certainly not some brilliant sprog
like yourself. Call me that again, you'll know why they called me 'Bloody.'”
“Sure…as long as you stop calling me 'Junior.' My name’s Connor, not Liam, so
I am not his junior.”
“Right then. Con….” Suddenly, Spike’s left hand grabbed his neck while his right
fisted the armrest. “Con…” he ground out through gritted teeth.
“Uncle…what’s wrong?” Connor turned in his seat to better help his uncle who
appeared to be trying to catch his breath, weirdly enough. “Uncle…”
“It’s Buffy…I felt her…just barely. I haven’t been able to do that since I’ve
been back.” A slow smile crept along his face, “Ah, Vicious, she’s right brassed
off. My girl’s gonna make ‘em wish they’d never been born.”
******
(Landing strip at Cleveland’s Burke Lakefront Airport)
Love’s Bitch had touched down on the runway at the Burke Lakefront Airport that
caters to corporate and private aircraft, relieving air traffic from the hectic
Cleveland International Airport. Spike wondered how hectic could Cleveland International
be; and who the bloody hell would want to come to Cleveland that
didn’t have to be here? Oh right, the bleeding Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was
here.
As the plane taxied to its hanger, he noticed a limousine awaiting their arrival.
Had it not been for the Whelp and the Principal standing outside of the limo,
he might have eaten the pilot.
Spike watched as Rogue ran down the jet’s steps and pounced into the waiting
arms of Wood. Made him want to heave. Connor made his way down next, followed
by Charlie. They stood off to the side. Neither of them had met Captain Ahab
or the Slayer Spawn, so they just observed.
Dana hopped down the steps and ran to her Mr. Xander, who patted her on the
shoulder. Spike paid special attention to how the Whelp acted around the psycho
slayer. Perhaps the chit reminded him a bit of Demon Girl.
Rona followed Pinky off the jet. He did not see any watcher type greeting her.
Maybe this Adam bloke had business elsewhere.
Blue marched down the stairs and took position beside Gunn and Connor.
He turned to Rufus, the pilot, and said, “My little band of misfits appreciated
the lift, mate. Ta. Have her at the ready. We may be needing her sooner rather
than later.”
With that, he disembarked from the jet.
As his feet hit the pavement, the door to the limo opened. Out stepped a man
wearing a long, camel colored duster, brown pants, with short brown hair. As
the man turned his face, Spike saw the dark brown eyes and the Romanesque nose.
Without thought, Spike shifted into game face, pulled out his katana, and surged
forward.
Nothing else existed for him at that moment except that sodding bastard standing
before him.
Every other person stood watching Spike’s attack in shock. No one understood,
nor could they comprehend what they were seeing.
Spike leapt forward with his sword only to be met by his foe’s Ivanhoe sword
with bronze hilt in defense stance.
“You’re dead, you miserable bastard! I watched you die in 1927!” Spike exclaimed.
“As you are as well, you prat! Will you lay off with the violence for a bit,
William?”
“Spike! Hey, bleached wonder, what do you think you are doing, attacking Adam
like that?” asked the Whelp
He shifted his gaze to the Whelp and snarled, “S’not human, Ahab. Saw him die
from a gun shot wound to the heart over 77 years ago.”
“What?” was heard collectively.
“William, or as you like to be known, Spike, allow me to reintroduce myself.
I’m Adam Pierson, Rona’s Watcher. Unfortunately, you have just blown the most
carefully crafted cover I’ve had for decades. Ta, you sodding prick. I would
have rather discussed this privately with you, but since you have chosen to
hold me at a standstill, swords drawn, I will admit that I am an immortal –
one of a few who are left.”
Spike backed away from Adam, stashing his katana in his duster, observing Adam
doing the same. So he shifted back to his human guise, “You still owe me money…and
I’ll be collecting the soddin’ interest.”
Spike heard Connor ask, “So is this guy the same kind of ‘immortal’ as the Immortal?”
*********
A/N: Adam Pierson appears at the author's wild perogative and greatest desire
crossing over from Highlander:The Series. Disclaimer: I do not own Adam, David-Panzer
Productions does. More on Adam in the upcoming soon to be written chapters.
(and yes, I know some of you know who he really is!!)