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Chapter 15: Blood Ties

Spike watched as Buffy slept peacefully by his side. His tender lovemaking had her drifting off to sleep moments after he had slipped out of her warm body and cradled her to his side. Assured that she was sleeping deeply, he tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and brushed a light kiss to her cheek. Carefully, so as not to awake her, he slid from bed. He donned his black jeans and made his way to the bedroom door; he had a few calls to make. He made his way swiftly, but quietly, downstairs so as not to disturb the girls in the living room. Although, with the giggles he heard emanating from the room, Spike was doubtful that they would hear him.

His first call was to Giles. He wanted to check up on how the translation was going. ‘Midnight here, only eleven there. Giles should still be up,’ he thought to himself. The phone was picked up before the second ring had a chance to finish. An annoyed, “’ello!” sounded in his ear.

“Rupert. How go things?”

“Spike! What the bloody hell…” Then, in a much more dignified voice, “Do you have any idea as to the lateness of the hour?”

“Vampire, hello? It’s only eleven there. Don’t tell me you’re in bed already, old man?” Spike chuckled softly. It was nice to be able to yank the watcher’s chain a bit. But, the seriousness of the call quickly sobered him.

“No, not at all.” Papers shifted in the background. “I’m just going back over some of my translations. I wasn’t expecting the phone to ring. Was there a particular reason for you ringing me so late?”

“I just remembered something about Buffy’s attacker from...”

“Buffy’s attacker?” Giles interrupted. “Dear God! Is she ok?”

‘Whoops...’ “Uh yeah, Rupes. She’s fine. She didn’ tell ya?”

“I should say not!” Giles blustered. “What happened?”

“We got ambushed by some bloke. He got in a lucky blow to the slayer’s stomach. We were worried a minute ‘cuz her injuries weren’t healin’ as fast as usual. But, everything’s ok now.”

“Not healin? Spike, what’s going on? Never mind that, I’m coming there. I’ll book a flight out for first thing in the morning.” Spike could hear the nervous energy on the other end of the line.

“Rupes, she’s fine. If you come ‘ere now, she’s gonna know I told ya. Then I’ll have one brassed-off slayer to deal with. I’ll pass, ‘f it’s all the same to you. Besides, I need you there to work on that translation.”

“Yes, quite right. But, like I told Buffy this morning, I don’t think it applies to your situation.”

“Well, tha’s a spot ‘f good news,” Spike replied, relieved. Getting back on track, Spike told Giles why he was calling. He quickly described the guy that hurt Buffy and the markings he bore on his face. Giles asked if he could describe them to him.

“I’m no artist. I’m gonna call Angel and see if he can whip up something. He was always good with his pencil. Whatever I’m able to get, I’ll pass on to you.” Giles agreed and said that he would wait for more information to come from either the L.A. offices or Spike. Spike hesitated before ringing off.

“Giles?”

“Yeah, Spike?”

“I don’t like this. This guy was too focused on the slayer. Obsessively so.”

“We’ll figure it out, Spike. It’ll just take some time.”

“That’s the problem, watcher. I’m not sure time is with us on this one.”

Shaking away his gloomy thoughts, Spike hung up with Giles and placed his second call. Before, asking his grandsire for anything always left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he really needed Angel’s help. At times, Angel could really be a pain in his arse, but since he had been brought back, grudging acceptance had been evident in the older vampire’s demeanor. Time to test it. Blood bond was there, now to see if the poof would acknowledge it. Spike needed his help and if anyone could commit to paper what Spike described, it was Angel. After all, what was family for?

“Wolfram & Hart, how may I direct your call?” a female voice enquired.

“Get me Angel.”

Soon Harmony’s voice came over the phone. “Harmony, I need to speak with Angel.” A little elevator hold music, then Angel’s voice sounded over the line.

“This is Angel.”

Spike took a deep, calming (completely unnecessary) breath then said, “Sire, I need your help.”

Angel almost dropped the phone. ‘Oh Holy Hell!’ If he could have gotten any paler, he would have. Spike rarely, if ever, acknowledged their bond. For him to result to this, something grave must be occurring. Gripping the phone tightly, he replied, “You have but to ask, Childe.”

Spike closed his eyes for a moment, relieved that no smart remarks were forthcoming from his grandsire. Slowly, he related all the events of the past few days: the battle, the slayer subsequently getting hurt, her slow healing, their combined yet unspoken fear. Angel listened without interrupting, but his demon surged to the front, anger at this unforeseen enemy hurting Buffy. He tamped it down when he heard Spike’s request.

“Can you draw what I’m describing? Maybe by figuring out what those marks on his face were, we can find out who’s behind this.”

“Hang on while I grab my tablet and pencil.” Spike let out a sigh as he heard the phone placed gently on the table. ‘That wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be.’ After a few moments, Angel came back on the line.

“Tell me what you saw,” he requested quietly. Spike complied, and for the next half-hour he described the various symbols he had seen as well as the man’s face. When Angel was finished drawing, he asked Spike for his fax number, then faxed over what he had done. They both waited on the line while the fax machine whirred to life and spat out a piece of paper. Spike walked over and grabbed it. Staring back at him was the guy that had hurt his slayer.

“Damn, Angel. It’s him. It’s bloody him!”

“I’ll give it to Wes to see if he can come up with anything.”

“Thanks. I’m going to forward mine on to Giles. He said that he translated that text but he didn’t think that it had anything to do with Buffy. But, he’s gonna keep diggin’. Maybe this will help….Angel?” A pause. “Thank you, Sire,” he said simply, once more acknowledging their connection.

“Anytime. I’m here when you need me, Childe.” Quietly, Angel disconnected their call. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his office chair. Anguish, combined with hope, played across his face. He had thought that when he had given up Conner, he would once more be alone in the world. Sure, he had his friends that came with him to Wolfram & Hart. But, they wouldn’t always be there. Once they were gone, his lonely life would stretch out endlessly before him. Spike could, at times - make that most of the times – be a pain in the ass, but he was still family. Personally, he thought the younger vamp acted that way just to get a rise out of him – as if he did it just to take some of this endless guilt off of his shoulders. It wouldn’t surprise him. Chuckling to himself, he pushed the maudlin thoughts away and went to seek out Wes. He had to try and help his childe out.

~*~*~*~*~

Halfway around the world, Spike slowly replaced the phone in its cradle, a slight smile forming on his lips. His Sire. Bond stated, bond claimed. He hadn’t been sure how Angel was going to react. A weight lifted when he realized that Angel acknowledged their tie as if it was a given. Spike was no longer alone.

Spike looked at the picture Angel had faxed over. Yellow flashed behind his blue eyes. After a moment, he crossed to the fax machine and sent the image to Giles. Once finished, he folded up the paper and put it in his pocket as he made his way back upstairs.

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