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Chapter 57

Buffy and Spike were the last to arrive in the meeting room, the Slayer a step or two in front of her husband as they walked down the short hall leading from their bedroom. Therefore, everyone seated at the table got a good look at her face when she stepped into the room and a quick glance around revealed the lack of her closest friend present. 

“Buffy—” Marcus began, already rising to his feet at her stricken expression. 

Spike was faster, though he could have kicked himself for not remembering to tell her before now.  But, after seeing to his wife’s needs, the two had fallen into a restorative slumber, sleeping away the remainder of the daylight hours.  Then Adam had woken them with news of Angel’s arrival at the watcher’s house, and both had hurriedly dressed so the group could map out what they were going to do. 

Gripping her shoulders tight before her emotions could get the best of her, he leaned forward, whispering in her ear.  “Close your eyes, luv, and concentrate.  She’s still here.” 

Buffy forced herself to do as he asked, breathing deeply to will away the instant anguish, the rising anger, the need for revenge at her friend’s dusting – Renee’s absence having made her think the worst.  Her senses sharpened until only… there!  Faint, but the blood didn’t lie.  She was still alive. 

“Where?” she whispered, relieved beyond words. 

“New York,” Spike answered immediately. 

The adrenaline that had been building within her, left her body in a rush, and she nodded, sagging against his study embrace for a moment.  Whatever had happened to cause the vampiress not to be with the others, the clan wouldn’t have let her just disappear without a trace. 

“I’m going.”  Her tone brooked no argument. 

“Slayer, I don’t think now’s—” 

She pulled away and turned around, staring hard at her husband.  “I’m going.”  

Spike had every intention of seeing Renee brought back.  Knew first hand what Renee meant to his wife.  And if it hadn’t been for this latest development with his grandsire, he would have told everyone to be ready to leave inside the hour.  That they were putting Sunnydale behind them.  But, Angel’s knowledge of the connection between Buffy and one of his childer wasn’t something that could be left unresolved.  

“Sire.” 

Adam’s voice broke into his and the Slayer’s silent battle of wills.  Spike looked away, frowning at the vamp for interrupting him.  Adam just gestured to the monitors. 

“Bloody hell…”  Now they really couldn’t leave.  He turned back to see his wife, arms crossed over her chest, one brow arched in a good imitation of him.  Demanding to get her way in this. 

“Fine.  You’ve got twenty-four hours,” he told her; knowing there was no way in hell he could prevent her from going, his voice was unnaturally gruff.  “And take someone with you.”  He ignored Buffy’s quick grin, before she masked it and looked contrite, turning back towards Adam.  “I assume you’ve got secure transportation for my wife?” 

Adam nodded. 

Angelina nudged Marcus.  “Go with Buffy,” she told him, but loud enough for the others to hear. 

He drew his mate close, nuzzling her cheek, then glanced over at his sire to see him give his assent. 

“Twenty-four hours, Marcus.  Not a minute more.  Alric, you’ll go with them to the airport and make sure they’re not seen or followed.  Everyone else… stay put.  I’ve got an old friend to see.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

He grumbled under his breath, bringing his car to a halt near the watcher’s house.  Damn thing had crapped out on him on a deserted stretch of road, and if it hadn’t been for a semi driving in his direction, he would have missed arriving in Sunnydale on time.  As it was, he knew the shit had already started to hit the fan.  

After killing the engine, he climbed out of the relic and slammed the door shut – not because he wanted to, but because it took that much force to get it to close – wincing at the overly loud noise.  As he passed by the rear of the vehicle, he gave it a kick, then instantly regretted it, comically hopping about on one leg at the sudden burst of pain that shot up his foot.  A stream of curses lit the air, directed towards himself and the inanimate object at the root of his suffering.  When he’d worked his way through two languages of swear words, he directed his gaze upward and started over. 

It was their fault he was in this mess.   Hell, wasn’t like they couldn’t just zap him, or beam him, or whatever the hell it was they did to him every other time they wanted him somewhere.  No, they were probably sitting on their collective asses in some cloud, laughing over his latest predicament.  Stupid Powers.  What was it that Spike called them?  Powers That Fuck With Me?  

His friend had the right of it. 

The throbbing in his foot finally subsided enough for him to climb the curb and limp his way towards the watcher’s front door.  On the doorstep, he hesitated, turning around and peering intently into the distance.  Something was out there, watching him; he was sure of it.  But, when he inhaled deeply to figure out what it was, nothing came back to him except the light scent from the few shrubs that made up the apartment complex’s landscaping.  That, and the trail Angel had left. 

His arrival was a plus, at least.  Two for the price of one, so to speak.  Definitely beat repeating the same story at a later date.  And, maybe with the watcher present, the perpetually brooding vampire – as the Powers were secretly wont to call him – might actually listen.  Unlike Spike, who eventually believed what he told him – even if most of the times it was after a good shouting match, Angel would no doubt need a little bit more in the way of proof.  ‘Too bad a two-by-four to the forehead wouldn’t work,’ he thought.  Unfortunately, the truth would just open up a whole other can of worms.  And, yeah, a bit of assistance would be nice right about now… 

Like usual, though, the damn Powers were silent.  Assholes.  Nothing like letting a bloke flounder. 

Shaking off his unease, he faced the door and gave it a few good raps with his knuckles.  The muted conversation he was able to hear halted abruptly at his interruption, and a moment later the door swung open. 

Doyle rolled his eyes as the watcher went on instant alert, his body visibly stiffening while his hand reached behind him trying to fumble about for something.  A weapon maybe.  Or some type of ward.  Not that a ward would actually keep him out.  Definitely one of the perks of being the Powers little play toy. 

“None of that is necessary, I assure you,” Doyle rushed to explain, his dry, accented tone causing the older man to pause momentarily in his search at having been found out.  “May be half demon, but ‘ve got a higher calling.” 

“You’ll forgive me if I find that rather hard to believe,” Giles drolled back, eyes never leaving the man – demon – in front of him.  But, he did stop trying to grab at the stake lying on the accent table near the door. 

He just knew the creature standing on his front doorstep wasn’t completely human, but didn’t know for certainty whether or not it had the same invite clause as vampires…. and didn’t want his ignorance to get him killed. 

“Look, it’s not like I’m a card carrying member or anything, but I can tell you this, Rupert Giles, formerly of London, England, and watcher to one Buffy Summers, of the ‘Chosen’ variety… what I have to say concerns both you and the vampire currently hiding behind your front door.” 

“How—” 

“It’s a gift.  No… really, it’s not.  I told you, well, maybe I didn’t, now that I come to think of it.  Look.  I work for the ‘Powers That Be’.  I’m an emissary of sorts.  Usually, it’s just visions of the skull-splitting variety, but after that stunt your associate pulled…” 

“Powers that Be?  Associate?” 

“You know, a higher power?  Infinite beings of wisdom and power that watch every day on Earth play out like some chess game?  And, I’d be referring to Ethan Rayne.” 

“Oh.”  That brought him up short.  But, he plucked on like the good watcher he was, explaining away his acquaintance with the warlock.  “Ethan, as I’m sure you’re well aware, is a former associate.  And, you know about what he did?  To Buffy?”  Even as he voiced his question, he could have kicked himself.  Of course he would have known. 

“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.  Can I come in please?  It’s been a long drive.” 

“Drive?  But if you’re an emissary of the Powers, surely it comes with some sort of perks…” 

“Yeah, tell me about it…” Doyle grumbled.  “Which is why I’m not in a particularly good mood.  Not to mention the foot’s throbbing like a son of a bitch.  So, are you gonna make me stand out here all night, or do I get to come in?  Lots of Big Bads out here that can come along at any moment and eat me… before I have a chance to spill the beans, as it were.” 

Giles opened the door a bit wider and stepped back, indicating his assent, if not actually voicing the words that would grant the demon entry. 

“Doesn’t work on me,” Doyle informed him.  “Was just being polite, is all.” 

“Oh.” 

Doyle had to hand it to the watcher, he recovered very well, calmly informing him in a no-nonsense manner how adept he was with the various weapons stashed about his flat.  And his lack of hesitation in using them against someone of his persuasion.  Not to mention his bodyguard, of sorts, in the brooding vampire, who stood leaning against a bookcase, arms akimbo, doing his best to stare Doyle down.  Like a souled up version was going to scare him.  Shyeah… 

He rolled his eyes at the dark-haired vampire, clearly unimpressed with his posturing.  But, hell, after arguing with William the Bloody as often as he had, and living to tell the tale, the half-breed didn’t think anything could scare the spikes into appearing on his face. 

“So, what’s this all important news you wished to impart to both myself and Angel,” Giles demanded after closing the front door and directing the newcomer to the apartment’s living space, gesturing for Doyle to sit in one of the empty chairs. 

“Dropped the ‘us,’ now, did you?” Doyle asked, looking squarely at the vampire as he sat down.  “Think that makes a difference?  You’re still him, you know, changing your name ain’t gonna change who you are.” 

Angel growled at him, but, Doyle being Doyle, refused to be cowed.  Instead, his smile grew wide, unknowingly reminiscent of Spike’s in the face of the elder vamp’s ire. 

“Just saying,” the half-breed added.  “No need to take offense, Angel.” 

“Why don’t you just get to the point, demon,” Angel snarled back. 

“Oooohhh, look at you with the big insultin’ words.  And, for the record, it’s only half demon.  Me mum’s human.” 

“Really?” Giles interjected, oblivious to the undercurrents between the two.  

The surprise in the older man’s voice caused Doyle to turn away from the vampire and stare for a moment in shock, before shaking his head in wonder at the watcher’s ignorance. 

“Yes, really.  God, almighty, some demons do actually coexist peacefully with humans.  Need to pull your head out of your arse, watcher.  Quit relying on the tried and true of the Council of Wankers.  They’re just men… and corruptible at that.”  Doyle gave the man a pointed look, informing the other that he was well aware of the Council’s history, and the less-than-stellar way they’ve dealt with some of their Slayers in the past. 

Giles blinked owlishly.  His mouth opened and closed, imitating that of a fish for a moment, then finally closed for good – without refuting anything Doyle had said.  He ignored the half-breed’s implied meaning about some of the Council’s former administrations, concentrating instead on what he actually had said.  Was it really possible for certain demons and humans to live together?  The concept fairly boggled the mind.  And, if it were really true, it would negate everything he’d ever learned about demons and their habits.  Everything the Council had instilled in him. 

“Look.  I don’t mean to sound like a sanctimonious prick… it’s just been a long day, and well, you wouldn’t happen to have a beer or something would ya?” Doyle asked, turning on the charm and praying the man had some of the good stuff, rather than the watered down piss he was often forced to drink to quench his thirst.  The watcher left the room, and when he finally came back, Doyle had to refrain from licking his lips when a bottle of Guinness was presented to him. 

“Cheers.” Doyle tipped the bottle in Giles’ direction and took a healthy swig of the dark stout.  “Name’s Doyle, by the way.” 

“You were getting to the part about telling us something,” Angel interrupted. 

“Right… yeah, about that.”  His eyes fixed on the watcher, telling him, “Forget about Buffy.  She is lost to you.  Kendra’s the Chosen One now.”  Then he turned to vampire.  “Have you ever thought about living in LA?  Name like yours, you’d fit right in.” 

He intentionally left out mentioning Spike, hoping neither of the men – well, one man and one demon – before him wouldn’t bring up the vampire, or the situation earlier in the warehouse. 

Best laid plans and all that… 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“What happened, Marcus?  Why did Renee leave?” 

The pair was ensconced inside the clan’s private jet, one that had been bought by one of the numerous dummy companies they owned.  Buffy was nervous, but trying desperately not to show it.  She’d never been on a plane quite so small, or seemingly that fast.  Her fingers gripped the armrest as the jet reached a cruising altitude and abruptly leveled out, causing her stomach to dip tremendously. 

Marcus laid a reassuring hand on hers. 

“You’ll get used to it, Buffy.  Hell, I think it’s the only way we travel now.”  He grinned, and Buffy was reminded once more why she liked him so much.  It was that devil-may-care attitude so similar to Spike’s.  But, whereas Spike was often unapproachable to any but his own, Marcus had this type of boyish playfulness about him that was completely offsetting. 

It was that look that had fooled one too many into a sense of trust. 

“As far as Renee…. Well, you know her best.  She never talked much about Jared after he…”  His voice trailed off. 

“Yeah.”  The Slayer leaned back in her seat.  “She really loved him.” 

“And after you and Spike disappeared…” 

“She didn’t handle it too well?” Buffy asked. 

“No.  Even knowing we’d be seeing you again.  She’d been lulled into thinking that you both were meant to stay with us.  Hell, we all were.  I’m not gonna lie to you, Buffy.  It was a rough couple of years.  If I’d not had Angelina…” 

“I’m sorry….” 

“Wasn’t your fault.  If it was anyone’s, it was those damn Powers.” 

“Yeah… but still.  We’d stopped talking about it.  About Sunnydale…and the possibility.  So much time had passed.  We had a good thing going…” 

“I know.  Anyway.  After Renee left, we drifted apart for a bit.  Surprisingly though, we all made our way home in under a year.  Everyone, except for Renee.” 

Buffy didn’t ask which home.  She knew.  Knew that of all the countries they’d been to over the years, their place in Japan had been their home away from home.  A calming influence to every one of them. 

“Why?” 

“Why did we go home, or why not Renee?” 

“I don’t know… both?” 

Marcus lifted the Slayer’s hand, drawing it towards his mouth.  In the blink of an eye, his demon emerged and his fang lanced her palm, leaving a fine trail of blood.  “There’s no denying who we are.” 

“Yes.”  She nodded at the vampire as he leaned down and drew his tongue along the shallow cut he’d made, easily closing the wound. 

“We’re family.  It didn’t feel right to be apart, especially after all the time we’d been together.  We stayed there another year, then Adam told us it was time to get back to work.  Guess he got wind of a problem in Africa, so we left home and haven’t been back since.” 

“But why not Renee?  How come—” 

“She’s searching, love,” he told her gently.  “Her demon has been unsettled for quite some time, but with you… and Spike… she was content, if not completely happy.  Don’t worry.  She would have come back after she’d found what she’s been looking for.” 

The two lapsed into silence for a while, content just to sit there while the jet brought them closer to New York.  Buffy dozed off and on throughout the remainder of the flight, her head resting comfortably against Marcus’ shoulder.  When she was awake, he told her about what they’d done in the last hundred and fifty years, give or take.  The would-be dictators they’d dispensed with – human and demon alike.  The apocalypses they’d averted.  And all the other things the clan had done nothing to prevent. 

Buffy listened to it all, knowing they were there to maintain the balance.  Good and bad, like opposite sides of the same coin.  Couldn’t have one without the other.  It still didn’t prevent her eyes from tearing up at hearing it, however.  

Probably never would. 

~*~ 

“Wake up, Buffy.” 

The Slayer sat up and stretched in her seat. 

“What time is it?” she asked sleepily. 

“Little after four.  We should be on the ground in another twenty minutes.” 

“Do you have any idea where she is?” 

“No, but it won’t be difficult to track her once we land,” Marcus told her.  “The closer we get, the stronger the bond.” 

Buffy nodded.  Even now she could feel a slight tug of the blood bond they all shared.   An unconscious pull towards their wayward family member.

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