Dedicated To: Ghostforge, Josie_h, Tim, and others who are fans of this series.
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Sunnydale, California, October 31, 1997
“I don’t understand what the big deal is?” Voice raised, Spike tried to emphasize his displeasure by stomping around. Unfortunately, three stomps in the small apartment and he hit the wall. “I’m just going to hang around with Buf-, the Slayer, Willow, and Xander. Won’t stay out late, and since it’s that time of year, there won’t be any dangerous creepy-crawly things to worry about.”
“Our kind stays in on this night.” Angel said through gritted teeth. He wasn’t used to having to argue with Spike. Since the death of the Old Master, his Childe was developing a rebellious streak.
“Bloody hell!”
And a smart mouth.
“Our kind, our kind.” Spike continued his rant. “You mean your kind.”
“What did you just say, boy?” Angel’s expression turned thunderous.
Realizing he had stepped over the line, Spike immediately backed down. “Nothing.” He mumbled head down, so he wouldn’t have to look his Sire in the eye. “Gonna go watch the telly.” He shuffled off to their partitioned bedroom. “I think Charlie Brown and the Great Pumpkin is on.”
“Welcome to the world of teenagers.” Standing in the kitchenette, Whistler had been fixing himself a sandwich, while watching the scene between the vampire and his son.
“He never was like this before.” Angel spoke softly, as he sat down at the small dinette. “It’s that Slayer.” He hissed. “She puts ideas in his head, and. . . .”
“It’s normal.” Whistler interrupted. “Teenagers are obnoxious creatures. Didn’t you ever read Erma Bombeck, where she talks about wishing she could bury her teenagers, and then dig them up when they’re adults?”
“No.” Angel had never heard of Erma Bombeck but found the information interesting. “I never heard of any demon, who buries their teenagers, but I’m beginning to understand why they would.”
Whistler could only sigh, as he swallowed a mouthful of sandwich. “Erma Bombeck is not a demon; she is, or was a comic author. You’ve got to get out more.”
“Well.” As Angel’s anger receded, hurt began to take its place. “How can he say that, my kind?”
“He was just angry, so he said the first thing he could to upset you.” Whistler said comfortingly. “All parents of teenagers have to suffer through this phase.”
“Not vampire parents. I never would have behaved in this fashion.” Angel was adamant, also forgetful, as the past battles he had with both the Old Master and Darla seemed to be wiped clean from his memory.
“It’s a different world now.” Whistler got up from the table to make himself another sandwich. “And even demons and vampires have to change with the times.”
**
November 1, 1997
“Turns out the one responsible for the whole fiasco last night was an old friend of Giles.” Sitting at a small table at the Bronze, Xander was filling Spike in on Halloween night. “Which brings up the question, how is it that straight-as-an-arrow Mr. Giles has a friend, who’s into the dark arts?”
“So everyone turned into the costume they were wearing? Blo-ody hell!” Spike was envious that he missed out on all the fun. “Wish I could have been there.” He looked over at Buffy, who was seated to the right of him. “I could have helped you.”
“Unless you would have chosen an eighteenth century noblemen costume.” Xander grinned over at Buffy, who didn’t grin back. Becoming a helpless eighteenth century noblewoman hadn’t been funny. “And why exactly couldn’t you come last night?”
“It’s a rule. Demons take the night off on Halloween.” Spike said with a sigh.
“But you’re not a dem. . . .” Willow started to say, when a kick from Buffy cut her off.
“It’s a rule?” Buffy quickly spoke up. “Then how come Penn was out?”
Spike shrugged. “It’s an old rule that probably only old vampires follow, like my Sire.” He mumbled the last part to himself.
“And how old is Penn?” Xander asked.
“Don’t know.” Spike shrugged again. “They’re all old, but maybe Penn realizes it’s the twentieth century, unlike some, who keep thinking they’re still living two hundred years in the past.”
**
November 2, 1997
Even though her patrol was finished, Buffy was in no hurry to go home. It was Sunday evening, and all she had to look forward to was a pile of homework and Monday morning. Walking on a rooftop across from the park, she scanned the area. Three people caught her eye. Walking to the edge, she knelt down, concentrating on them.
Buffy caught the words, run home, boy and immediately recognized the voice of Angel.
Pulling out a stake, her danger sense was tingling, as she watched a young boy take off and run. Directing her attention back to Angel and his unknown female companion, she continued to observe them curiously, as they talked a bit, voices lowered, so their conversation could not be heard. Their exchange ended in what looked like a hug, and as the woman turned Buffy was able to get a good look at her face. It was Drusilla, another of Angel’s Childer, and currently Penn’s inamorato.
**
November 3, 1997
Entering the school lounge, Buffy threw herself on one of the couches next to Willow. Seeing Angel chummy with Drusilla had been nagging her the whole day, but caution made her keep it to herself. She hadn’t even told Willow, and that was killing her.
“What’s up, Buff?” Sitting on the couch across from her, Xander was trying to juggle a couple of tennis balls.
“Only that my life sucks. I don’t have the foggiest clue as to what’s going on in French, Physics, Geom. . .in most of my classes. I have mountains of homework, most of which I don’t know how to do, and I’m due in the library to have a workout session with Giles. I’m supposed to patrol tonight, which leaves me like forty five minutes for homework, unless I skip sleeping, which would then mean that I wouldn’t be at my best for tomorrow night’s patrol. You know I really should get some school credit for being the Slayer and have a lighter class load.”
“Seems like you have time for bellyaching.” Sitting next to Xander, Spike was busily writing out a history theme.
“Shut up, Spike.” Buffy retorted, but without any real bite, as she tried to forget that she had not seen his father with the enemy the night before.
“Whatcha up to anyway?” Xander peered over at Spike’s notebook. “Homework? You’re doing homework?”
Pausing a moment, Spike looked up from what he was doing. “This is a school, ya nit.”
“Yes,” Xander said, “but the key word in homework is home. It’s not called schoolwork. . ., and it is called schoolwork.” He quickly corrected himself, as Willow nodded her head slightly. “And I’m shutting up now.”
“Thank the bloody gods.” Spike muttered, as he resumed his writing.
“How about a study session at the Bronze tonight?” Willow suggested to Buffy. “I could help you with your homework there. Would that make your life less sucky?”
“I don’t know.” Buffy answered with a sigh. She knew that she should probably go to the library and discuss what she had seen with Giles, but part of her dreaded that because that was squealing on Angel, which equaled to squealing on Spike, whom she considered a good friend..
“If you don’t feel like studying at the Bronze, how about moping at the Bronze?” Xander asked, noting the glum look on Buffy’s face.
“To lift Summers out of a mope,” a young, dark haired man walked up to them, “I'd suggest a box of Oreos dunked in apple juice, but maybe she's over that phase.”
Buffy’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ford?”
“Hey, Summers.” Ford stepped up to Buffy and gave her a hug. “How’ve you been?”
Grabbing his hands, Buffy smiled at him. “Good, and my God, what are you doing here?”
The two chatted happily for a few minutes, as Ford explained that he was going to be finishing out his senior year at Sunnydale High.
“So.” Xander finally broke in, tired of being ignored. “You two know each other.”
“Oh!” Buffy remembered her manners. “I'm sorry. This is Ford, Billy Fordham.” She introduced him to her friends. “And Billy, this is Xander, Willow, and Spike.”
“Spike.” Billy zeroed in on Spike, as Xander and Willow greeted Ford with a hi and a nice to meet you. “That’s an odd name.”
“Named after Snoopy’s cousin.” Spike said dryly, taking an instant dislike to Buffy’s old friend. “Ford.”
Feeling the tension Buffy quickly spoke up. “Are you busy tonight?” She asked Ford. “We're going to the Bronze, the local club to,” she gave Willow a look, “study and have a little fun. Want to come.”
“I'd love to!” Ford said immediately, but quickly added. “But if you guys already had plans. . .would I be imposing?” He sensed the hostility emanating from both Xander and Spike.
“Only in the literal sense.” Xander’s response was not welcoming.
“Okay, then.” Ford said ignoring the remark. “The Bronze it is. But right now, I should get to the admissions office, and get my papers in order.” Turning to leave, he waved a hand at the group. “See you tonight.”
“Well, if it’s partying at. . . .” The look on Willow’s face made Buffy quickly corrected herself. “Studying at the Bronze tonight, I better finish with Giles, so I can get an early start on my patrol.” Picking up her book bag, she glanced at Spike. “Going to give me a hand?”
“Naw.” Spike was still writing furiously and didn’t look up. “The Old Man has been twitchy lately.”
“But you’ll make it to the Bronze?” Willow asked.
Spike shrugged indifferently. “Doubt it.”
Buffy felt the ache in the pit in her stomach return. Spike telling them that Angel had been twitchy lately only added to her suspicions. Sighing, she headed for the library, mumbling about her sucky life.
**
“Bloody life sucks.” Returning from their excursion to the Bronze, Spike threw himself into a chair, glaring daggers at Angel’s back. For some unknown reason, his Sire had insisted that they spend the evening together, but instead of the usual cruising for an acceptable (a criminal type) meal or checking out the Fish Tank, they had ended up at the Bronze. “Takes me to the Bronze,” he muttered, “where all of Sunnydale hangs out. I’m at the Bronze with my *father* for the whole frigging school to see.”
“You’re mumbling, boy.” Angel sat down across from Spike, a beer bottle in his hand. More unusual behavior. “Speak up, so I can hear you.”
“I’m going to have to drop out of school.” Spike raised his voice. “Because I’m too humiliated to go back.”
“You’re talking foolish.” Angel said in a low growl.
“No self respecting person goes to the Bronze with, with his father.”
“I was curious to see it.” Angel tilted the beer bottle up to his mouth to take a drink. “And curious to see your friends and what kinds of things all of you do at this Bronze. According to Whistler, that’s being a responsible parent.”
“Right.” Spike said with disdain. “Cause Whistler’s the parenting expert. I don’t know why you always listen to that poncy prat.”
“The Slayer’s boyfriend.” Angel abruptly changed the subject.
“Another prat.”
“He smelt of illness and death.” Drinking down the last of his beer, Angel got up to get another.
“He did?” Spike said in surprise. Ford had looked and acted like a healthy teenage boy.
“Reeked of it.” Angel screwed off the top of another beer. “You should have smelt it too. You’ve got to use your nose, boy.”
**
November 4, 1997
“Summers!” Spike yelled down the school corridor, as he broke into a sprint to catch up to Buffy.
Hearing the distinctive English accent, Buffy knew who it was without turning around. Stopping, she waited for Spike. “Where’s the fire?” She asked when he drew near.
“Found out something interesting about that Ford mate of yours.” Spike said, as the two resumed walking. “Seems like he belongs to a special club called the Lonely Ones. A bunch of losers, who are vampire wannabes.”
“How do you know this?” Buffy stopped and gave Spike a hostile look. She was tired of him and Xander with their unfriendly attitudes toward Ford.
“My Sire. He knows about this club, and. . . .”
“Your dad!” Buffy interrupted, angry at Spike for meddling in her life, and also for his unfair assessment of Ford. “Your dad said. Like I trust anything he says.” Spinning around, she took off in a huff.
**
November 5, 1997
“What’s this place?” Buffy asked Ford, as she stared at the unfamiliar building. It was her second date with him, and she had thought they were going to the Bronze.
“A surprise.” Ford put his arm around Buffy’s shoulder.
“I like surprises.” Buffy smiled, wondering why her Slayer danger sense was tingling.
**
“Bloody hell!” Spike was on his third walk around the Bronze and no Buffy anywhere to be found. “Red.” He caught sight of Willow and Xander coming through the entrance. “Where’s Summers?”
“On a date with Billy Ford-ham.” Xander said, feigning indifference.
“They’re not here. I just looked for them.” Spike glanced around again, checking to see if he had missed them.
“Must have gone somewhere else.” Xander shrugged, still pretending that Buffy on a date with Ford wasn’t bothering him.
“Xander.” Willow frowned in worry. “This is a Wednesday night in Sunnydale. There is no other place to go on a date but here.”
“Oh, right, forgot myself. . . .” Xander started but was cut-off by Spike.
“Damn. This isn’t good.” Turning, Spike headed purposely to the public telephone.
“What? What isn’t good?” Xander exclaimed, as he and Willow followed Spike.
“That Ford bloke is shady.” Spike explained, as he dropped a couple of coins in the phone and dialed.
“I knew it! I knew it!” Xander felt vindicated. “I knew something wasn’t right about that guy.”
“Sire.” Spike spoke into the phone. “The Slayer is with Ford, and they’re not here at the Bronze, even though Willow and Xander say they’re out together. . .okay, I’ll meet you there.”
“Where are you going?” Xander asked, as he and Willow sprinted after Spike, who made a mad dash for the exit. “What’s going on?”
“A place called the Sunset Club.” Spike answered, never breaking stride. “I’ll explain on the way.”
**
Two vampires held her on each side, as Buffy stood captive in front of both Ford and Penn. “What’s this about, Billy? How is it that you‘re in league with,” she glared at Penn, “them.”
“I don’t think you’d understand, but. . . .” Ford stepped closer to Buffy. “I’m going to be one of them.”
“You want to be a vampire?” Buffy was shocked.
“Yes.”
“Vampires,” she again glared at Penn, “are a little picky about who they change over, and, and, “the realization hit her, “and you offered them a trade, me!” She spat the accusation out.
“That’s right, Sla-yer.” Penn spoke up. “And you’re going to be my tre. . . .”
A body of a minion came crashing down the stairs interrupting him. The distraction was all Buffy needed, as she took the opportunity to swing the two vampires who were holding her into each other.
“Angelus!” Penn hissed at the appearance of Angel and Spike, who had forced their way into the club with Xander and Willow bringing up the rear.
A graceful leap over the railing and Angel was face to face with his eldest Childe. “Hello, daddy.” Penn immediately turned all of his attention to Angel. The two vampires circled each other; each with a predatory gleam in their eyes. “You mentioned recently that all I have been doing these past two hundred years is getting back at my father, Well, you want to know what I’ve come to realize? You made me. You taught me. You approved of me in ways my mortal father never did. *You* are my real father, Angelus.”
“Fine.” Angel swung a right hook, which Penn blocked. “You’re grounded.”
As Angel and Penn battled it out, Spike knocked out enough of Penn’s minions, so there was a clear path to the exit. The members of the Lonely Ones club, who were now seeing the true faces of the vampires, were making a mad rush to the door. Free of enemies for a moment, Spike noticed a lone figure standing in a corner. His mouth curved in a triumphant grin. Drusilla, Penn’s one weak spot.
Taking out the two vamps, who had been holding her captive, Buffy looked up to see Willow and Xander holding the door and frantically guiding the hysterical mob out it. Sighing with relief, she began to shout to them. “Good going guys, get the people out of. . . !” A backhand across the face from Ford cut her off.
“I’m dying, Summers, and it isn’t fair.” Ford swung again, but Buffy leaned back, so all his fist connected with was air. “I've got maybe six months left, and by then what they bury won't even look like me. It'll be bald and shriveled and it'll smell bad. I'm *not* going out that way.”
“I’m sorry, Billy. I had no idea. But what you're doing is still very wrong.” One hard punch and Ford was out for the count. Looking sadly down at her old friend, Buffy whispered again. “I’m so sorry.”
**
November 7, 1997
“That was fast thinking on your part.” Sitting in the cemetery, Buffy congratulated Spike. “Grabbing Drusilla like that.”
Spike shrugged. “My Sire was telling me that not too long ago she was attacked by a mob in Prague, so she’s ill, but as I understand it, Penn is madly in love with her. So it was easy enough to figure that if she was threatened, he would back down.”
“Angel. . .your Sire still has feelings for her, doesn’t he?”
“She’s his Childe.” Spike stated, as if that explained everything. “And Penn is his Childe too, so. . . .” He shrugged again.
“Which puts me right in the middle.” Buffy said with a sigh, as she studied the tombstone in front of her. The name, William Fordham was etched on it.
I guess so, love.” Spike watched as first a hand and then the top half of a fledgling vamp clawed his way out of the ground.
One swift thrust, and the vampire was dust.
“Life is never simple anymore.” Buffy stared at the falling ashes of the vampire. “I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just like, the more I know, the more confused I get.
“You and me both, Slayer.” Spike said with empathy.
Standing up, Buffy whispered a final, “Goodbye, Billy.”
****
Epilogue
“Sire.” Spike greeted Angel in the appropriate manner, as he entered the apartment after he and Buffy had finished their business in the cemetery.
“William.” Angel returned the greeting, setting aside the book he had been reading. “So was the Slayer able to. . .stake her boyfriend, or did you have to do if for her?”
“No, she did it.” Spike started to throw his duster over a chair, but one look from Angel, and he went over and carefully hung it up in the closet. “This whole episode with Billy Fordham was very hard for her.”
“Killing a loved one is hard.” Angel stated matter-of-factly.
“So it hurt when you staked Darla?”
“And betrayed the Master.” Angel added. “Yes, it did.”
“But you did that to save me.” Spike stated what he already knew but for some unknown reason wanted reassurance. “And what about Penn and Drusilla?” He asked remembering the recent conversation between himself and Buffy.
“What about them?”
“Would you, could you kill them, if necessary?”
“Hopefully it won’t come to that.” Angel said his words and expression unreadable.
“Right.” Spike couldn’t help the envy that colored his voice. “A bloody family reunion, and. . . .”
“Of course, if they threatened you at all, I would kill them without hesitation.” Angel interrupted what was sure to be a rant.
Any jealousy that Spike had been feeling quickly died. His Sire’s words confirmed again that he was the most important person in Angel’s life, and that’s what counted. Walking over to his Sire, he settled himself down on the floor between Angel’s legs. Resting his head on his father’s lap, he sighed contentedly.
****
Finis