Tempus de Muto

by Schehrezade

Disclaimer: They ain't mine but I gets to play with them!!
Feedback: As a first time writer, I would love input. It's a drug that I could become addicted to! Drop me a note at
schehrezade_1@hotmail.com
Rating: PG15 for now will vary from chapter to chapter. Will always put in a warning.
Dedications: To Tales, cos I wouldn't be writing without her prodding. You're my muse girl!! Madame Draco my Beta. Thank you for all the hard work and patience. A true gem!

Chapter 24

"Are you sure this is the place?" Buffy eyed the techno coloured shop front dubiously. It didn't look like a respectable magic shop; it looked more like something a hippie had puked up after a magic mushroom experiment that went wrong.  

Tara glanced at the folded street map and then looked over at Spike questioningly. To her it screamed of tourist trap and not a serious Occult shop. She wondered if they would find the channelling orb they needed to use to get Dawnie back. She was also starting to wonder if they could safely get the book they needed from the Council, unobservered and without breaking their cover. If the Council knew that Buffy was here in London with Spike, Tara was positive that it would not end with the tweedy blessing of Travers. Not after the way he had treated Buffy last time. The memories of Buffy throwing a sword at one Watcher and then verbally smacking down Travers was a good one for her and the others, but somehow she doubted the Head Watcher would have fond memories of that instance. Tara tried not to wring her hands together and begin pacing, not after the good day they’d had so far she didn’t want to start stressing over the Council until she had too.  

Spike leaned against the wall of the shop and lit a cigarette; he gave Tara a brief wink to reassure her. Puffing furiously on it for a moment, he nodded abruptly. "Yeah, this is Monmouth Street and that's the shop you're looking for...not much changed since the last time Dru and I blew through the Old Smoke." He ignored the narrowing of his love's eyes at the mention of his insane ex and stared contemplatively down the narrow street. His blue eyes softened as they focused on a different time. Shaking himself he forced himself back to the present and reached for Buffy's slim form, pulling her unresisting body against his in a deft movement. "Bit odd seeing the place in broad daylight tho'."  

Spike and the two women ignored the odd look a redheaded woman shot him as she walked past, catching his final comment as she did. She adjusted her glasses and pushed open the door to the shop that Wes had suggested the three blonds could get hold of the orb and vanished into the book-lined depths.  

~~~~~~~~~  

The entire day had been spent wandering around London . The two girls were in complete awe of all the sights and sounds of the old city; they had turned into the ultimate tourists, insisting that they saw everything they could in one day. All three of them knowing that time was short and that this was all they could spare before focusing on business. So they had hoofed it around on an open-air tourist bus, sitting on the top floor and absorbing everything they could. From Buckingham Palace to Knightsbridge, to the Tower of London and London Bridge , and everywhere else in between.  

For Spike it brought back memories of days long gone. He had nearly lost it when they had walked past the street where he had been born and lived in until his neck had become intimately acquainted with Dru's fangs all those decades ago. Buffy's hazel eyes had caught his and the strength that flowed from her had bolstered his wavering bravado long enough for him to explain. He then endured the girlish squeaks of delight from both Tara and Buffy as they grabbed a hand each and dragged him down the still genteel tree lined road in St Johns Wood.  

He laughed at their round-eyed stares of delight at the white painted Victorian houses with black cast iron railings that stretched down the street. Reluctantly he pointed out the house he had lived in after Buffy had unleashed her most lethal pout on him, closely followed by the gentle smile Tara graced him with.  His heart lightened slightly when, on closer examination of his old home, he saw that it was still a private house and not divided up into matchbox-sized flats. Spike smiled down at Buffy, grateful when she had unconsciously given her emotional support to him with a sweet kiss and then a jokingly petulant demand for a coffee, breaking his maudlin reverie with a bubbly giggle.  

Without a backward glance, the trio then left his old home and headed for the centre of London . They stood staring at the magic shop with the unfortunate name of Mysteries applied to it.  

"Come on." Tara pushed the door open and gestured for the two lovers to follow her into the shop. It was a series of Victorian shops all interconnected, catering to all the mystical needs of the supernatural world.  

"It's huoooge, nothing like the Magic Box," Buffy hissed at Spike as she scanned the bookshelves.  She frowned at one of the displays, unsure if the eyes on the statue had moved or if she was jetlagged. Distracted, she didn't notice that the same woman who had stared so strangely at Spike moments earlier had dropped the books she had been browsing through at the mention of the small mystical shop a continent away. But this time, the observant blue eyes of a vampire did and they narrowed as he watched the shortish woman fumble around on the floor.  

"Luv, why don't you and Tara go and find the dohickey we need?" He consciously omitted exactly what they were there for as he scanned the small huddled form of the woman scrabbling for the book she'd dropped. “Get a few, cos you never know, we might need em.” He laid a finger against his nose and winked at Tara . “Best be safe rather than sorry,” he said before turning his sharp gaze to the redhead on her knees. Something about her was off.  She was tweaking all his innate predatory instincts and his hackles were rising. He wanted to suss her out without having to worry about drawing attention to the girls and why they were here at the local oogedy boogedy store.  

Buffy peeked through her lashes at the focussed vampire; he was all flashing eyes and clenched jaw, bringing his cheekbones into sharp relief. She tried not to swoon at the perfect yum that he was and then nodded, taking her cue from his tense form. She pulled Tara off in the direction of the adjoining room that, according to the sign, contained all the orbs and crystals under the sun. She realised that her vamp had noticed something hinkey and wanted them to get the orbs while he sniffed the woman out.  

"Need a hand with that?"  

Kristin froze at the North London accent that sounded out above her head. Her shoulders curled in on themselves and she mentally cursed herself for being so obvious. Calling on years of training she tried to calm her heartbeat, all too aware that the man standing over her was much more than he allowed the world to see. She was, however, confused as hell as to how he was managing to walk around in broad daylight; a cautious glance at his fingers had revealed nothing.  No sign of a green gemstone ring, so she was completely at a loss.  

It had been pure chance that she had come into contact with the three blondes so soon, despite being aware that they would make an appearance in London . Her knowledge was thanks to a brief and guarded phone call from an old friend, and now she wished she had taken the time to question him more. But to be confronted with the demon that had inspired hours of research and theorising was another cup of tea entirely. The freckled redhead grimaced at her Britishism, and then with a soft sigh, straightened up gripping the slim tome in her sweating hands.  

"Nah, hon, I'm just fine," Kristin drawled, nerves making her accent more obvious. She pushed her glasses up her nose and risked a quick look at the handsome vampire whose artic gaze made her shiver. Memories of massacres by his family and his own hands that had been studied too the ninth degree and analysed by herself and her brethren caused a series of shivers to trickle down her spine.  

Spike nodded and watched cautiously as the woman straightened and stared curiously at him. He returned her gaze with an equally curious one of his own. He sniffed the air surreptitiously, trying to scent her, to discover if she was mortal or not. He promptly sneezed.  

“Bless you, hon.” Kristin mentally slapped herself, wondering what she was on. He had no soul to sneeze out of himself so didn’t need a blessing of protection. Also, how lame was she with the ‘gee, lets be nice to the Big Bad Vampire.’  

“Ta, love.” Spike coughed, his eyes watering and then wiped his nose with the back of his hand. The scent of patchouli now embedded in his nasal passages, he waved at the air around him and glared over at the cash desk and the heavily pierced Wicca wanna be. “Bloody incense, and people complain about me smoking fags.”     

He arched his brow at the loud guffaw that escaped the woman’s lips.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

“Strawberry, get your ass going, we have demons to meet.” Rack stood over her supine body and gave her red lined backside a hard smack. He leered down at her and laughed at the pout on Willow ’s pale lips as she rolled gingerly over onto her back. Wincing as her tender skin made contact with the stained sheets she laid on, Willow ran her fingers over her sweat soaked torso.  

“But we weren’t finished playing…” She fingered the whip marks on her breasts and blinked up through her tangled hair at her master and lover. Her fingers tugged on the silver bolts in her pale pink nipples and licked her lips lasciviously as another jolt of arousal shot through her. Willow let her legs fall open as Rack gazed down at her willing body and laughed throatily when his hand dropped between them and slapped her hard on her bare soaked pussy.  

“Slut.”  

“Well yeah, that’s what you made me into, didn’t yah?” Willow raised a leg and with her toes, teased his granite hard cock through his dirty jeans. “Come on, lover, get down here and show Strawberry how much you want her.” She let one hand leave her breast and dip between her bald nether lips and rubbed her freshly pierced clit with a happy moan. The new piercing had been a personal gift from the warlock that he had promised her as they fucked earlier.  He’d tied her down and, using a safety pin, had done it himself. The small hoop was threaded through as he threw the switch on the dildo he’d shoved into her aching over-sensitised sheath. It sent her screaming into the stratosphere, the combination of pleasure and pain causing her brain to shut down and her body to take over.  

Rack threw his head back and laughed as he stripped off. He flipped Willow over onto her front and without any preamble, thrust his cock into her as he pressed her face into the pillow, his hand firm on the nape of her neck as his hips pistoned against her.  

“Scream for me, baby,” he ordered and then added with a smirk, “that’s if you can get enough air in your lungs.”  

~~~~~~~~~  

“Travers?”  

The Head Watcher shook his head. “And to whom else would you be speaking to on my direct line, Cavanaugh?”  

“Right, my apologies sir. I called to inform you that the targets have been spotted and my team and I have them under surveillance.”  

“Good, when will you be moving on them?” Quentin shuffled the paperwork on his desk, half his attention on the silent man seated in front of him. He was curious to see his reaction to the conversation; it was really down to him that he was being forced to intervene. If the fool had done his job better then the mess could’ve been averted. ‘Young women are too easily distracted by men and what they can offer. Hormones and the offer of power are just too much for them.’  

“We need to assess risk limitation and then move.” The crisp voice at the other end of the phone pulled Travers attention back to the moment.  

“Good.  Be warned, from what we know both targets are extremely unpredictable and will not take kindly to being spied on. So don’t move too slowly,” he cautioned, knowing all too well that if it Cavanaugh was caught, then the fallout would be immense and the repercussions would be long standing and painful for all in the Watchers Council.  

“Affirmative.” With that, Cavanaugh hung up.  

“Are you sure that such extreme measures are necessary, Quentin?” Giles asked mildly as he stared across over the partners desk at the older man. He was casually attired in jeans and a cable knit sweater and the stress and strain of his years as an active watcher had vanished. He sat forward, concern in his blue eyes, all too aware of Cavanaugh’s methods; he had been trained by him when the man had still been involved with the Council. It was only after the death of the Slayer before Buffy and Cavanaugh’s spectacular fall from grace as a result of his failure to arrive on time to back her up that he was kicked out of the Watcher’s Council. Giles had known that Travers had still used the fighter-- often for the more distasteful aspects of guarding the general public against demonic elements that the council were unable to handle.  

“Indeed, sadly none of us anticipated this outcome and we need to move to contain them.” Quentin stared over his templed fingers at the errant watcher who had recently returned to the UK .  

Giles sighed and nodded.  Despite all their problems in the past, he was in accord with the Head Watcher. There were troubling times ahead and he needed to ensure the safety of all his erstwhile charges, even if it meant setting Quentin’s attack dogs on these two. It was an unpalatable decision, but he had consulted with Althenia and her coven and their seers predicted dangerous times ahead and they had advised turning to the quiet man sitting across from him now. Pale eyes were fixed on him, waiting for a reaction.  

“Indeed, Quentin, but I do have to say that I feel responsible for these unfortunate events.” Giles sighed.  

Travers had learned many things during his years of ascending to the position he was now in, but one thing stood out most of all in his opinion. If you remained silent, then you received more information than if you questioned an individual. So, he sat solid and silent.   

“If I had supervised her more, offered more training and guidance, not allowed her to go off on her own and experiment – then maybe she would not be consorting with that thing.” Giles managed to refrain from whipping his glasses off and cleaning them. He was trying to break himself of the habit, feeling that it was his tell now, something that was too easy to do to emote his feelings without words.  

“Yes, well I would have to agree, you did indeed fall down on the job.” Quentin remarked quietly. He sat back and watched the play of emotions on Giles’s face.  

“It would appear so,” he muttered resentfully.  

“Yes, I did warn you often not to get so attached.  By doing so you have allowed your emotions to cloud your judgement. One cannot even conceive of what that perverted animal is teaching her. What devious plan he is using her to instigate.” Disgust made Travers’ mouth contort.  

Giles nodded sadly, his mind filled with images he’d rather not associate with her and her new lover. Disgust filled him; even he had not fallen that low during his younger years.  

“Now, about this so-called sister of the Slayer.”  

~~~~~~~~  

“Crumpets.”  

“Beg your pard’n?” Spike frowned down at the redhead, his scarred brow following its usual trajectory when he was surprised. He watched the red flush start somewhere under her collar and run up her neck to settle on her cheeks.  

“Crumpets,” Kristin replied, wondering if he was being deliberately dumb or if Wes hadn’t managed to call him yet.  

“Spike, grab a clue, this is Wes’s friend. Y’know, the one he told you about last time he called. It’s the password, doofus!” Buffy reappeared at his elbow and thumped him on the backside.  She’d wondered about her identity as she walked away with Tara and then panicked cos watchers-- even friendly ones-- were kinda prone to stake first and say oopsie later. “Hi, I’m—” She thrust out her hand and before she could continue her introduction, Kristin interrupted her.  

“Buffy Anne Summers, Slayer guarding the Hellmouth.” Kristin took her hand with an easy grin and shook it firmly. “From all the stories I’ve heard, I thought you’d be bigger, more muscles and stuff.”  

Spike blinked at the Watcher In Training.  She’d wrong-footed him and then echoed his own words from long ago. He frowned at her, his black brows drawing together and a gold tint appearing in his azure eyes.  

“Manners much?” Buffy wapped him again on the backside, adding a good hard pinch for good measure.  She was amazed that he was in dumb mode; usually he was the one to show her up with the insighty stuff. “Say hello to the nice Watcher lady.” She tilted her head at the now tomato red woman in front of them.  

“Right.” Spike glared down at the light of his unlife, his eyes promising retribution for the smacks and pinches, and then looked over at Kristin and gave her the cute grin and tongue curl that guaranteed the girl’s giggles.  

He was rewarded with a chuckle and a small wave of hello. “Man he’s a flirt, isn’t he?” Kristin directed the question at Buffy with a faint smile lingering on her lips.  

“Yeah, he is.” Buffy grinned.  

“Oi, standing right here, women.” He shook his head and mock glared at them both.  

“Oh, so she’s not dangerous? Buffy came back to protect…I mean, help out.” Tara reappeared with a large bag filled with tissue paper. She handed it to Spike and hefted the other bag of books and ingredients. He took the proffered bag and peeked inside. “I got all the ones they had in stock, just to be safe.”  

“Oh, are they the orbs?” Kristin tried to peek in the bag and then took a rapid step back at the sight of Spike’s vamp face. “Oh crap…wow, sorry.” She gulped and tried not to scream at the sharp fangs that vanished as quickly as they appeared. ‘Now that was William the Bloody.’  

“Wot?”  

“Okay, maybe we should go somewhere more private and talk. Wes asked me to help you all out as much as I could.” Kristin took a huge step backwards away from Spike, now very much aware that he was a vamp and not the cutie that she had been secretly lusting after.  

“Ohhh, can we have scones and stuff?” Buffy chirped and took Spike’s hand as she bounced on the balls of her feet.  

“Um, y’all realise I’m Texan, right?”   

~~~~~~  

“Okay, so not the sexy wounds I hoped for…ow!” Xander grimaced as the Druidess behind him carefully anointed the wounds on his back and smoothed clean bandages over them. He hated that he’d been brought here to heal, leaving the others to protect the Hellmouth. Xander tried not to sigh over the fact that it was an old lady tending to him and not Ahn. But that was the way it went.  He’d screwed up, upset her so badly, and they’d decided to take a break. Deep down he had already accepted that the relationship was dead and buried.  He only hoped that because they had broken it off so soon, and before the madness of wedding arrangements, that eventually they could be friends. He missed Anya already, but realised she was a strong woman and he had tried to change her to fit into some Stepford fiancée role-- and that that was wrong.   

“There, that should help. Have you taken the potions that the Elders mixed for you?” The white haired woman helped Xander lay back down on his bed and arranged the pillows to cushion his back, shoulders and head. He winced at the pressure his own body put on the padded wounds, the pain pulling his thoughts from Anya and back to where he was.  

Xander glanced over at the table next to his bed and grimaced at the sight of the brown glass bottles. He had never been good at taking medicines as a kid. He sighed.  Knowing that they would help him heal was one thing, but he wished they tasted nicer. As he sighed a sense of peace filled the male Scoobie, he was sure it was the atmosphere of the place that soothed him. There was a gentle purity to the entire compound that calmed his nerves. He’d caught brief glimpses of it through the window to his right. He’d managed to spot log cabins surrounded by a forest; there was also a glimmering haze in the air that turned out to be protection spells. He could hear wind chimes as the wind tinkled through them and often he heard dogs barking and the clucking of chickens. The homely feel to the place added to his sense of security and contentment. Something he hadn’t felt in years.  

“Uhhh, not yet, do I hafta?” He grinned weakly over at the placid woman. The last two days had been a revelation.  Since saving Wes and being gored by the warty demon, he’d been whisked off to the Eisted enclave. He had woken to the sound of chants and a ring of white robed people all praying over his supine form. They had managed to cast enough healing spells to close the claw marks on his back, but that was all.  They believed that the body was a temple and it should heal itself, rather than rely too heavily on magics. So here he was, the human pin cushion drinking of the gross potions and trying to work out how the hell Buffy managed with the patrolling nightly.  

Buffy.   

He was worried sick about her and Tara, chasing after Willow , but there was nothing he could do but pray and hope Spike came through. Xander blinked, Spike came through? He raised a hand and checked to see if he was feverish, letting the hand drop down. Somewhere along the line, Spike had been moved from dangerous, to irritating, to muscle and now eventually, Buffy’s boyfriend. Xander mentally gagged at that thought. But also accepted it. ‘Damn he’d gone and grown up and let go of being a bigot. When did that happen?’  

“Son, take this, you know it will cure you.” She handed the wooden cup over to him filled to the brim with potiony goodness. Xander peeked at the sludge coloured liquid and prayed that the sticks in it were digestible There was no way it wasn’t gonna hurt otherwise.  

“When I’m done, can I see Amy?” He sipped at the cup with a grimace. He desperately wanted to check on her, he was still in surprised that she was in a magical coma. Part of him wondered how it had happened and also if Willow ’s sudden Elvira the Slut makeover had something to do with Amy’s illness, as well as Dawn’s disappearance.  

“She is still not with us, but I will help you to her bedside.  It will do her good to hear a friendly voice as she sleeps. It may bring her back.”  

“Thanks,” Xander said as he gingerly raised the wooden goblet in a silent toast and then drank more of the potion as he stared over at the curtained off area at the other end of the infirmary. He knew that his old school friend was behind it, struggling to recover from whatever Willow and Rack had done to her if his suspicions were correct.  

~~~~~~~~~  

“Dad, wait, let me help you.” Connor took the stairs two at a time and skidded to a halt next to Angel.  The brunette vampire was standing at the head of the stairs, trying to stabilise his weak legs by clutching to the handrail.  

“No, I need to do this myself,” Angel gritted out as he began to slowly descend the stairs into the reception.  He could feel Fred and Gunn’s eyes following his slow trip down and tried not to growl at them in frustration. He was sick and tired of being weak and lying on his bed only lead to him getting depressed and brooding over Cordy and what he’d done to Justine. So he’d taken matters into his own hands and dragged himself from the bed, dressed himself and staggered to the balcony.  

Connor raised his hands and watched his dad carefully as he navigated the stairs down to the others. His mouth was firm as he kept his eyes glued to his father’s stumbling steps.  He hated that his father was so weak-- a shadow of his former self. He was secretly glad that Angel had drained Justine dry, because he had no idea what he would’ve done to the bitch.  

“Oh my Angel cakes, you’re up and about.  This is just the best news ever.” Lorne sashayed into the foyer with a large smile. He clapped excitedly and rushed over to Angel’s side as the tall vampire had just managed to reach the landing; he took Angel’s arm and helped him down the rest of the stairs and to the circular couch. Helping the protesting vampire to sit, before whirling around to face Fred and Gunn over by the main desk. “We need champagne, or at the very least, some Sea Breezes to celebrate!”  

Angel sank back with a groan, resting his head against the back and tried to ignore the shaking in his legs and arms. He needed more blood and soon. A mug appeared under his nose; he smiled up at Fred and took it. So hungry that he drank it down in one gulp. “Thanks.” He handed it back to the skinny girl with a brief smile.  

“Want another?” she asked worriedly, hating to see her hero so weakened and sad.  

Angel nodded. His eyes were firmly closed as another vision played out in his head. Spike and Buffy again, but this time fighting with each other in what looked like a training room, brick walls hung with weapons and symbols of protection painted on them as well. The floor had some blue mats on it and in a corner stood a weird scarecrow dummy, with a knife sticking out of its head. He opened his eyes and blinked as the vision disappeared as quickly as it struck.  

“Another one?” Fred’s face creased sympathetically as she handed another brimming mug over to Angel. She plopped down next to him and curled her long legs underneath her. All of the AI crew avoided saying anything about him having the visions usually, as it meant that they accepted that Cordelia wasn’t returning -- they hated the thought of her not being with them. Angel receiving the visions underscored the reality that she was gone for good and that crushed them all.  

“Yeah, Buffy and Spike, training. I don’t get why they are always in my visions—” Angel sipped from the mug and sighed.  

“Near as I can guess, its ‘cause they’re heading into danger. I suppose the Powers are worried, but what they expect you to do is kinda a mystery to me.” Fred smoothed her long hair over her shoulders and frowned. “You don’t think you were supposed to go with them?”  

Angel shook his head. “I don’t think so, and there is no sense of danger or anything when I see the visions.”  

“Still no pain?” Gunn sank down behind Fred and pulled her back against him.  

“Nope. I guess it must be as Fred theorized, the whole me being a demon and more able to cope with the visions.” Angel looked down at his feet, feeling sick that Cordy’s disappearance--he firmly refused to accept she was dead, like the others had--was the reason he was getting the visions now.  

“Yeah, I just wish they were more of the ‘Oh go to Rodeo and kill the Glunark demon snacking on the shoes in Gucci’ kinda visions. Cos the Spike and Buffy show-- kinda redundant for us.” Fred sighed.  

“Gods, what sacrilege.” Lorne shuddered as he handed out the cocktails he’d mixed up while Fred had been feeding Angel. Connor snuck a glance at Angel as Lorne absently handed one to the teen.  

“Conner, I’ll have that,” Angel said without opening his eyes.  

“Dad,” Connor groaned and handed it over without any more fuss.  

“Can’t have you hung over for the first day of school, can we?” Angel gingerly placed the gaily decorated glass on the floor and smiled briefly over at Connor.  

~~~~~~~~~  

“What? This was the best I could do.” Kristin waved her napkin around the quaint tearooms she’d chosen on Piccadilly. It was one of those places that was filled with a faded gentility that she knew would appeal to Buffy and Tara, much as it had when she had first discovered it.  

She looked over at the blond couple that were sitting close together on the other side of the table and tried not to stare. There was the current Slayer and her lover, one of the most vicious vampires in recorded history – and they were kissing. Not something she’d ever dreamt she would witness, but with these two it worked.  

“Takes a while to get used to, but they do it a lot, so you will.” Tara gave her a lopsided grin and reached for the porcelain teacup, sipping daintily from it before replacing it in the saucer and then casually dropping a pale pink crystal on the white linen tablecloth and whispering an incantation. All of them shook their heads as a popping sensation occurred in their ears. “Sorry, just wanted to make sure no one was listening in.” Tara raised her brows and looked apologetic.  

“Neat trick.” Kristin nodded and smiled at the self effacing Wiccan and handed her a plate of cream cakes.  

“Yeah, she’s full of em, now talk.” Spike pinned her with his eyes and cocked his head.  

“Watcher, but you guys kinda guessed that, right?”  

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Well kinda, am still with the awe. A Watcher that is not in tweed and sporting a nice Jude Law accent. I didn’t know they let us Americans in.”  

“Me either until I was recruited.” Kristin sipped her tea and wished she’d ordered a strong coffee.  

“So you know Wes?” Buffy queried as she nibbled the edge of a scone. She grimaced when a blob of cream ended up on the tip of her nose and then squeaked and flushed red when Spike leant over and licked it off. “Not in public, Spike,” she admonished with a giggle.  

Kristin ignored the byplay. “We trained together and kept in contact once he was posted to the US. I work in research over here at Headquarters.”  

All three blonds sat up and smiled at her announcement.  

“Right handy that,” Spike drawled and exchanged a conspiratorial look with Tara.  

“Oh boy…why do I think this is going to cost me my job?”  

“Funny you should say that,” Spike smirked at the now silent redhead. “We need your help breaking into the Council libraries.”

tbc...

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