Banner by Vampkiss
Banner
by Vampkiss
Chapter 58
“Are you sure this is the place?” Buffy asked as Marcus
drove the car into the underground parking garage.
Marcus glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his
brow rising slightly.
“Sorry. Dumb
question. It’s just that I figured
Renee would be keeping a low profile. Seems
strange she’d be here.”
“You can ask her when we catch up to her.
Come on.”
The vampire pulled into a parking spot and killed the
engine, and together, they got out of the car, walking towards the elevators
that would take them upstairs and into the hotel.
As the two neared, Buffy noticed the security cameras sticking out of the
ceiling and fixated on the doors and gripped Marcus’ arm.
“What about…” Her
head tilted slightly towards the stationary recording device.
“Doesn’t matter. Besides,
we can always come back and make the tape disappear.”
~*~
Renee disentangled herself from the girl lying unmoving on
top of the comforter and rose quietly to her feet.
By all rights, she should be preparing for sleep, the lightening sky
telling her demon to seek her own bed. To
rest.
But too many thoughts kept her awake.
Not to mention the tug of family. And
not the one that would be rising with the moon.
She walked out into the suite’s darkened living space.
The windows that would normally provide a spectacular view as the sun
crested from the east were covered by a state-of-the-art blind system that
completely obliterated the deathly rays. The
vampiress paced for a bit, the pull of her bond steadily growing stronger, until
in sudden realization, she knew.
Moving swiftly about the various rooms in the penthouse
suite, she hunted for the key that would gain her access to the private
elevator, raising it in triumph when it was finally found.
With a burst of speed, she was at the door, and disengaging the lock,
hurrying inside and pushing the garage level button.
All the while praying she wasn’t too late, and that they’d not take
another car.
Because the elevator she was in was the only one that had
access to Jocelyn’s private suite.
~*~
Marcus had one foot in the elevator when Buffy’s hand
reached out and told him to wait.
“What is it?” he asked, concerned.
“Nothing just…”
Suddenly, the keyed elevator next to the one they’d been
about to enter came to life.
“Buffy…”
“It’s Renee. She
knows we’re here.”
Marcus stepped back and allowed the steel doors to close
and the two waited as the second elevator descended towards the parking garage.
There was a ding announcing the car’s arrival, then the doors slid open
to reveal the raven-haired vampiress.
“Buffy!”
“Renee!”
Buffy launched herself at her friend, holding her tight as
tears of happiness streamed silently down her cheeks.
“I thought you were dead,” the Slayer sobbed into Renee’s neck.
Renee lifted her own tear-filled gaze to see Marcus
standing there with a soft smile of understanding on his face.
“Welcome home, Renee.”
“Marcus,” she whispered.
Their own special language had sounded like music to her ears and rolled
off her tongue without hesitation. “I’ve
missed you all so much. I just…”
Her voice faltered.
“I know. But
you were never very far from us.”
Buffy finally got her emotions under control and leaned
back to regard her friend. She wiped
away her wet face with the back of her hand, smiling half-heartedly at her
emotional outburst.
“You look happy,” the Slayer announced.
“I am, Buffy. I
am. Come, I’ve something I want to
show you.”
Renee smiled, gesturing for Marcus to step inside the
elevator and allow the doors to close.
~*~*~*~*~
He got one moment of silence.
One blessed moment before what he’d said had worn off and they’d both
been on him in a shot. Talking over
each other as they told him in no uncertain terms what they thought of his
ideas.
Like they were his ideas.
He did mention the part about being an emissary, right?
Just the messenger here.
The Powers were going to owe him big time for this!
At least with Spike, after a brief emotional outburst, the two would move
on. Share a brandy.
Maybe play some chess… or cards.
After the third time the pair repeated themselves, he put
two fingers to his lips and let loose with a shrill whistle.
The one-side conversations ceased abruptly, and Doyle let out a
long-suffering sigh.
“Don’t suppose you can just take my word for it?”
Doyle reasoned with the pair one more time.
“Accept this…this foolhardy notion?” Giles asked.
“Just give up my Slayer on your say so?”
“Fine… Fine.”
Doyle looked up at the ceiling. “You
can always just wipe their memories later,” he reasoned.
“Not like you’ve not done it before.
Send me the book.”
He ignored the dubious stares from both the watcher and the
vampire, instead eyeing the coffee table in front of him.
The thick, worn leather-covered tome materialized out of thin air and
Doyle leaned forward in his chair to snag it onto his lap.
His expression turned smug at their startled looks.
Finally, a modicum of respect!
“You want to know why the Slayer is lost to you?”
Doyle patted the book. “This
is why. Sit down, both of you.
This may take some time.”
Angel opened his mouth to object, but at a harsh look from
Giles, he closed it. And sat.
~*~
“You expect me to believe that Spike, evil, soulless
Spike, is the sire of a group of former Aurelian vampires… and they traipse
around the world fighting evil?” Angel’s
tone was incredulous, with a heavy dose of mocking.
The tale the half-breed had spun, too preposterous by half.
“Not to mention that I would have known if there’d been a break from
the clan.”
“You were off with Darla at the time.
Angel stiffened, but didn’t comment.
After killing off the man’s family, he and Darla had left
Doyle noted the vampire’s tortured expression and smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Hmmm… I see that you do remember.”
“It was a long time ago.
Before the soul,” Angel argued quietly.
“Funny… Spike didn’t need one to follow his
destiny. Just the love of a Slayer.
And a family of his own.”
Tormented, his worst fears realized, Angel stood abruptly
and stormed from the watcher’s home and out into the night.
Doyle didn’t bother to turn around as the front door
slammed shut behind him. Instead,
his eyes were on the watcher. Taking
note of his reaction to what his Slayer had become – and why.
Giles, for his part, was floored.
Leaning back in his chair, his hands swiped the glasses from his face.
“I knew she was special… I just never realized…”
His voice trailed off. “And
Spike, you say…”
Doyle got up and walked into the kitchen.
He opened and closed cabinets until he found the watcher’s secret
stash. His hand closed around the
bottle of Lagavulin, and he spent another minute looking for a couple of glasses
before returning to the living room. Back
to the man still coming to grips with what had been told about his Slayer and
her new role she played on behalf of the Powers.
He sat down and uncorked the top, pouring a healthy dose into both
tumblers and handing one to Giles.
“Thanks,” Giles murmured absently.
“Cheers.” Doyle
saluted the watcher, and took a sip, smiling as the whiskey slid down his
throat, warming him considerably.
They sat there in silence, both lost in thought as they
savored their drinks. Doyle had just
finished off his glass when there was a knock at the door.
“Pardon me.” Giles
stood and walked to the entrance.
He opened the door and nearly jumped back in alarm.
Standing on his front step, dressed all in black, was Spike.
His hair was longer than he remembered, darker, falling in waves to his
shoulders, but the smirk was right. The
cold, deep blue eyes, too.
“W-what do you want?” he stammered out.
Spike quirked a brow.
“He’ll be wantin’ me,” Doyle announced, stepping up
beside the watcher. “You just
missed Angel,” he told the vampire.
Spike’s eyes narrowed at the mention of his grandsire,
but he said nothing.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Nos es quam ventus.”
“Ahh… so that was you I
felt?”
“Slow…slow down.
It’s been a while… wanker.” The
corner of Spike’s lips curled up as he uttered the remembered insult, even if
it sounded funny coming from such a formal tone.
“Yeah, well, some of us
don’t have your ken for languages. Where’s
Buffy? I’m assuming she’s with
you. And the others?”
“You told him?” Spike
growled, suddenly angry.
“Don’t worry about it.
Powers’ll probably wipe it from their memory later.”
“Their memory?
As in more than one?”
“Well, yeah.
I told you Angel just left here,” Doyle admitted.
“He was like a dog with a bone. I
had to do something.”
“You could have left him to
me.”
The half-breed leaned against
the doorjamb and crossed his arms over his chest.
“There’s no need to rub his nose in it.
You won. He lost.”
Alric’s report of how the
elder vampire had tried to attack him – even after the blood bond had been
revealed – came back to him, and his eyes flashed.
“Buffy is my wife, not some
prize.”
“I know.
I’m sorry. It’s
just…”
“And he dared touch one of
mine.” His voice grew softer,
telling Doyle just how pissed Spike actually was.
“Spike…”
“I won’t kill him, Doyle.
But, I’ll not stand for the insult either.
I’m not one of his any longer. He
should have known better.”
“Cut him some slack.
He’s barely had a day to deal with everything.
You’ve had well over seventy. We
still need him.”
“You need him, I don’t.
I may do your dirty work, but I’m nobody’s lapdog.”
Doyle nodded, well aware that the vampire would do what he
wanted.
“We’ve a few things to see to then we’ll leave
Sunnydale,” the vampire told him. “Keep
the new Slayer on a tight leash, and leave Angel to me.”
“Excuse me? Leave?”
Giles had watched the byplay between the two, but at the vampire’s last
statement, he couldn’t help but speak up.
“That’s right, watcher.
World’s a big place.”
“But what about Buffy?”
Spike rushed the door, stopping just before the barrier
would jar him backwards. “She’s
mine, watcher. Mine!
She goes with me.”
“But her family. Her
friends.”
“She’s been with us for the last seventy-five years.
Do you think she even remembers them?
We’re her family now.”
Giles knew not where he gained the strength to talk back to
the vampire. But, he did.
“Easy enough to say.
But, what about her mother? Who’s
probably home right now, wondering where she is.”
“Not my problem.” Spike
turned to Doyle, growling out his name.
“Can we not at least see her before you go?
Please, Spike. She was like a
daughter to me.” He didn’t care
that he was begging a vampire. His
only wish, to see for himself that this was what Buffy truly wanted.
Only then could he feel comfortable letting her go, like Doyle had warned
him to do.
“I make no promises,” Spike told the Englishman, then
turned and walked away.
Doyle thanked the watcher for his hospitality and took off
after the retreating vampire.
~*~*~*~*~
“Look, Spike. I
know you’re mad.”
Spike ignored the half-breed and kept on walking.
“You had to come back.
At some point, you had to come back.”
It was said quietly, but the vampire heard.
And stopped. He turned,
glaring at his friend.
“Why.”
So much anguish in that one word.
Emotion he’d never reveal to anyone else outside his family.
Save one.
“Because. You
had to become you. If you’d stayed
in the past… well, I don’t understand the logistics of it myself.
But, it would have done something. If
it’s any consolation, I pushed to keep you there as long as possible.”
“It’s not.”
“Spike…”
But, the vampire had already started walking again.
Forcing Doyle to run to catch up with him.
“Spike… come on. Spike…”
Spike stopped abruptly, causing Doyle to almost run into
him. He stopped just in
time…barely.
“I was happy, Doyle.
For once in my soddin’ life. I,
William, The Bloody Awful Poet, was happy. Now
I’m back here. We’re back
here. Dealin’ with this.”
His arms gestured to encompass all of Sunnydale and everything it held.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah… well…you should be.”
“Come on. I’ll
buy you a drink. Be like old
times.”
Spike quirked an eyebrow at his demon friend.
“Low profile, Doyle. Remember?”
“Right. We
can go back to your place. I’m
sure you have something there to drink. Especially
if Adam was seeing to the details. Plus,
it’ll give me a chance to catch up with the others.
Say hello to your more amenable other half.”
“Buffy’s not in Sunnydale right now.
She’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Not in Sunnydale? Where?
Aaah… Renee. Yeah, about
that. Nah, scratch that.
I’ll let them surprise you.”
“Surprise me? You
forget who I am. It’s why I let
her go in the first place,” Spike told him smugly.
“So, you know about Jocelyn?”
“That the bird’s name?”
“Yeah. She’s
family, believe it or not.”
“Of course she is, you git.”
“No, I mean, really family.
She’s a descendant of Nicholas Allen, Renee’s brother.
The last, actually.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The two walked on, Doyle with complete confidence in
Spike’s awareness of his surroundings – that they’d not encounter anyone
on their way to the vampire’s temporary home.
“You gonna let the Slayer say goodbye to her mum?
Her friends?” Doyle asked some time later.
Spike’s step faltered, indicating he’d heard the
question.
“If she wants to. I
told you. It’s been damn near
seventy-five years. You really think
she’s going to remember them? Care
about them?”
“I’m sure there’s some part of her that does.”
“She’s not that girl anymore, Doyle.
What good’s it gonna do? Besides,
it’s not like they’re gonna remember her anyway, right?” Spike reasoned.
“Or, were you just blowin’ smoke up my arse earlier?”
“Well, they can’t have anyone knowing about you,” he
told the vampire, referring to the Powers. “Kinda’
defeats the purpose of you being ‘invisible.’
But, it can’t hurt either. And,
you can watch how she completely ignores Angel.”
“Who said anything about the bloody poof bein’
there?”
Doyle just gave him the “look.”
“Fine!” he growled, pulling up short in front of a seemingly abandoned warehouse.