PART 1
Willow stopped along the street to peer through a shop window at an
emerald necklace that had caught her eye.

"Are you going to marry him?" Buffy asked from over the redhead’s
shoulder.

"He hasn’t asked me."

"Yet," the blonde added. "He will."

"No, he won’t," Willow shook her head and turned to continue strolling
down the street.

"Why do you say that? He spends all of his free time with you."

"He may spend a great deal of time in my home, but it isn’t me he’s
calling on. It’s Anya."

Buffy laughed in surprise, "Your maid? Don’t be ridiculous! No one of
his station would be interested in a maid, let alone fancy courting
her."

"Daniel would," Willow contended. "He’s asked her to marry him."

"You aren’t serious!" her friend gasped. "How do you know?"

"He told me, right after she accepted," the redhead shrugged.

"But--but--that’s scandalous!"

"I thought you liked Daniel."

"Of course I do! He’s the one I’m worried about. Willow, we have to
talk him out of this foolish infatuation."

"We’ll do no such thing. It isn’t an infatuation. He’s in love with
her."

"It’ll ruin him!"

"Would you stop?" the redhead sighed. "Daniel is perfectly capable of
making his own decisions. Besides, I like Anya. She’s always been more
of a friend than a maid, really. They’ve already made plans for a
private ceremony--"

"That’s rather quick, isn’t it? If she really cares for Daniel, she
wouldn’t push him--"

"*She* isn’t pushing anything. She’s behaved perfectly properly. They
want to be together. What’s so wrong about that?"

"They’ll never be accepted as a couple," Buffy insisted. "Not in
London. Not by--"

"It won’t matter. He’s purchased a property in Canada, and they’ve made
arrangements to travel there right after they’re married."

"And that won’t bother you? To lose him like that?"

"I’m not losing him. I’ve never loved him--not in that way, I mean.
Besides, you know my abysmal history with men," Willow grinned. "Anya
will make Daniel happy, so we should be happy for him, as well. Don’t
you think?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Does it matter what I think?"

The redhead laughed softly and linked her arm through her friend’s, "In
this instance, no."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Spike quickly read over the contents of the letter Angelus had shown
him, then handed it back to his sire, "Then this secret organization is
exactly what you suspected it is."

The darker vampire smirked scornfully, "The council. Fools, all of
them. I would have thought, after we nearly eradicated their little
group, they would have decided it would be wiser to give up their
idiotic ideals. You snapped the neck of their little slayer, after all,
and I drained her watcher. How the hell do they think they can ever
defeat every demon and vampire that roams the earth? And to flee for
their lives only to set up shop in London--of all places--is the height
of stupidity."

Spike shrugged, "Maybe they thought it would be too obvious a location,
so obvious that it would be the last place we’d look for them."

"Well, they thought wrong, didn’t they?" Angelus grinned. "According to
the minions that I sent to look into this, the council has acquired
several new members."

"To replace those who were killed," Spike nodded.

"Yes. Most of them are relatives--sons, grandsons, nephews--of the
members we killed. But this one," Angelus stabbed a finger at the
letter, "Rupert Giles. I haven’t heard of him before, but he’s too
smart by a damned sight to be a novice."

"They must be attempting to locate the new slayer. You think this Giles
bloke is to be her watcher?" Spike asked.

"I’d put money on it," Angelus answered. "He’s kept himself hidden away
all these years. If he’s been with the council all of this time, and I
think he must have been, he’s kept a very low profile up until now. I
wonder why that is."

"He’s keeping a secret," a lovely feminine voice spoke, and the male
vampires turned as Drusilla entered through the doorway and glided
across the room to stand before them.

Angelus smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist, "Where have you
been, Dru?"

"I found the most lovely young man," she answered. "He screamed so
beautifully, and his blood left a wonderfully sweet taste in my mouth
after I finished playing with him under the stars."

"Have the stars been talking to you, pet?" Spike asked her.

She nodded and lowered her eyes to the paper in Angelus’ hand, "They’ve
been whispering secrets to me. Old secrets. *His* secrets."

"Rupert Giles?" Angelus questioned. "What did the stars tell you? Does
he know the new slayer?"

"Intimately," the beautiful vampire replied.

"They’re lovers?" Spike asked.

"Oh, no," she giggled softly. "She is his daughter. There’s something
strange about her, though."

Angelus snorted, "Well, if she’s the slayer, that isn’t hard to
believe."

"She is the slayer. The stars told me. There’s no doubt of that," Dru
stated. "But it’s her past that’s strange, lovey. She is not what she
appears to be, nor is her father."

"Strange," Spike repeated. "How?"

"I don’t know," Dru shrugged. "And neither does she. Her father has
told her nothing."

"She doesn’t know that she’s the slayer?" Angelus face registered
surprise.

Dru leaned in close to his ear and whispered loudly enough for Spike to
hear, "She doesn’t know what she is. She’s secrets and lies."

"She’s with Giles--in London?" Angelus asked.

"She is," Dru told him before stepping aside and spinning a graceful
pirouette as she moved toward the door. "Oh, listen! The moon is
singing tonight. Such a lovely tune. Blood and death and unspoken
pasts--"

Her melodic voice faded as she danced out of the room, and Spike arched
a bemused eyebrow at his sire, "So, we’re heading for London?"

Angelus shook his head, "I want you to go on ahead, with Drusilla. You
had the former slayer to yourself when you killed her, and I killed any
witnesses after I drained her watcher. So the council doesn’t know our
names or our faces, and they have no knowledge of Dru’s existence at
all. Still, we’ll need to play out this game carefully. Set yourselves
up in London as brother and sister--old money, high society--"

"Why go through that sort of bloody nonsense? Why not just go after the
slayer and kill her?" Spike wanted to know. "If she doesn’t even
realize that’s what she is, it ought to be easy enough to--"

"No," Angelus insisted. "I want the slayer, but I want her alive. If I
can get to her, seduce her away from the council, her father, with
whatever this secret is that he’s kept from her, she could be just the
tool we need to dismantle the entire council."

"We don’t have any idea what the secret is," Spike pointed out. "It may
be nothing more than her true identity."

"I don’t believe that," his sire shook his head. "He could make her
understand that he kept that from her because there was no reason for
her to know while the former slayer was alive. But you killed her eight
months ago. The council has regrouped, and Giles’ daughter would still
appear to be unaware of her destiny. There’s a deeper secret underlying
this. We have to discover what it is and use it to turn her against her
father. The best way to do that is to ingratiate ourselves into her
circle of society and win her over. She’ll hate her father, the
council, and everything they represent."

"She’ll still be the slayer," his childe argued.

"But she’ll be on our side, not theirs," Angelus grinned. "And then,
after we’ve used her to destroy her father and dismantle the council,
I’ll turn her. We’ll have a slayer of our own. Now, you and Dru must
quickly get yourselves set up in London--as William and Drusilla
Randall. You’ll need a suitable place of residence there, and I’d
rather you didn’t drain someone to get it. We don’t want to arouse any
suspicions if we can avoid it. Get onto an estate agent and purchase a
suitable home. Find a way to get yourselves introduced to the slayer.
Dru should be able to arrange that. In two weeks, I’ll join you there
as a guest who’s come to visit."

Spike nodded, "You want us to get started for London tonight?"

"Yes," he answered. "It’s early. You’ll have several hours in which to
travel before sunrise. You should be in London by tomorrow night. Keep
me informed of your progress there until I arrive."
 

PART 2
Cordelia turned from her husband’s side as Willow and Buffy were
ushered into the parlor by the butler. The two young women returned the
brunette’s smile and weaved their way through the clusters of people to
meet her.

Alexander Harris smiled and reached out to squeeze Willow’s hand, "We
were beginning to think you weren’t coming at all."

"I made the mistake of agreeing to ride in Buffy’s carriage," the
redhead teased playfully. "She takes longer to dress than Cordy does."

"I find that difficult to believe," he laughed.

"Excuse me?" Cordelia huffed. "For whose benefit do you think I do all
this fussing, Xander? Besides, the results are worth it."

"Absolutely," he nodded and placed a quick peck on his wife’s cheek.

She smiled and took his hand and looked over at their guests, "So,
Buffy, how is Mr. Giles?"

"Daddy is fine, busy as always. I believe he was off to some meeting or
other this evening," she answered as her eyes traveled over the crowded
room.

"He’s just arrived," Xander grinned knowingly and gestured toward the
doorway.

She smiled widely and turned away from the trio as a tall handsome man
stepped into the room, "Excuse me."

Cordy giggled as Buffy traveled across the room as quickly as decorum
would allow, "Do you think Joshua is ever going to let her catch him?"

"Goodness, I hope not," Willow murmured around an amused smile. "He’s
all wrong for her. Aside from chasing after women, what *does* he do
with his time? I think that’s the only reason Buffy’s decided she wants
him--because all the young women do."

"And no wonder! He’d be quite a prize," the brunette remarked, ignoring
the way Xander rolled his eyes. "All that money and good looks--"

"And absolutely nothing else in common with Buffy. Have you ever tried
holding a conversation with the man? He’s as dry as dust," the redhead
remarked. "He’d hold Buffy’s interest for all of six months."

"Speaking of interest, I understand you’ve gotten Daniel’s," Xander
mentioned.

"Why does everyone persist in that fallacy?" the redhead sighed.
"Daniel and I have always been friends, nothing more."

Cordelia studied the young woman’s face, "Well, if that’s true--"

"It is; I assure you. We’re like brother and sister."

"Good! Then there’s someone I’d like you to meet," Cordy responded and
took her arm.

"Oh, please," Willow pleaded, looking to Xander for help.

He laughed and stepped aside, "Forgive me, Will, if I don’t come to
your rescue. I’ve learned that getting in Cordy’s way when she’s
playing match-maker usually results in being booted right back out of
the way."

Cordelia smiled fondly at her husband before tightening her grip on
Willow’s arm, "Come along. I saw him stepping out onto the balcony just
before you arrived."

"Who, exactly, is ‘he?’" Willow asked reluctantly.

"He’s the brother of a young lady I met at the opera a few nights
ago--Drusilla Randall. She’s here, somewhere," Cordy stopped long
enough to scan the room for the woman. "There she is, chatting with old
Doctor Pritchard."

"She’s lovely," Willow commented as her gaze settled on the tall,
slender woman.

Cordy smiled in agreement, "She has the most unusual manner of
speaking, but she’s utterly charming. We only spoke for a few minutes,
but I liked her straightaway."

"I haven’t seen her before, have I?" Willow asked as her friend turned
to continue on toward the balcony window.

She shook her head, "Apparently, they’ve been living in Ireland. She
and her brother have been in London for only a week or so. I made some
inquiries about them--very discreetly, of course. He’s just purchased a
house in Belgravia--Lord Heatley’s old home. You know that he passed
away a couple of months ago, and his son would rather sell his father’s
estate and tramp about India than settle down and get married. Not that
he couldn’t, if he’d put his mind to it. I know of at least a dozen
women who would eagerly accept his proposal. It’s just a shame that he
can’t be more sensible about it. Anyway, Miss Randall’s brother must be
quite wealthy to be able to afford a house like that. I’ve heard that
they come from very old money. Now, if you could land him, my girl--"

Cordy, please. You’ve used up enough breath for the both of us," Willow
requested.

"I just like to keep my friends’ interests at heart," the brunette
shrugged.

"And your friends appreciate it," the redhead spoke, her voice dripping
with sarcasm. "Aside from this man’s financial situation, do you know
anything at all about him?"

"Does anything else matter?" Cordy asked seriously.

"Of course not. How silly of me," Willow answered dryly.

The redhead resigned herself to her fate and fell silent as Cordelia
escorted her out onto the long balcony that overlooked the side garden.
She paused only briefly to look around, then finding her target, drew
Willow along with her. A strikingly handsome, blonde man turned as the
ladies approached him.

"Mr. Randall, I’d like you to meet a dear friend of mine, Miss
Rosenberg. Willow, this is William Randall."

"Apparently not so dear a friend," the redhead couldn’t help adding as
the man extended a hand to her.

Cordelia gasped at the young woman’s offhand remark, but Spike only
chuckled softly and raised the redhead’s hand to his lips, "A pleasure
to meet you, Miss Rosenberg."

"Well, so far, anyway," she grinned amicably up at him.

"But not for long, if you don’t hold that tongue," Cordelia rebuked her
with a scathing glare. "If you think you can behave yourself, I have
guests to entertain."

"I’ll do my best," Willow promised, and Cordy grimaced and turned to
re-enter the parlor.

He looked down into the young woman’s lively green eyes, "Mrs. Harris
told me that you are rather outspoken."

"She must have been feeling particularly tactful," she responded
humorously. "She isn’t usually so delicate where my flaws are
concerned."

He arched an eyebrow, "You have many flaws?"

"Ask Mrs. Harris," she suggested with a soft laugh.

The man found himself quickly charmed by her directness, and he smiled
and replied, "I really think I’d rather find out for myself."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"How nice to meet you, Miss Giles," Drusilla extended a hand at
Cordelia’s introduction and studied the young slayer with hooded
interest.

"And you. Oh, my! Are you feeling quite well?" Buffy asked, then
blushed at her indelicate bluntness. "Forgive me. It’s only that your
hand is so cold--"

"A medical condition," the vampire smiled, gently pulling her hand away
from the blonde’s. "It’s plagued me for years, I’m afraid. I’ve always
been of a somewhat weak constitution. William tends to fuss over me,
but really, it’s nothing serious."

"William--your brother," Buffy nodded. "Cordelia told me you’ve just
arrived in London. Did you come down for the Season?"

"No. That was just a fortunate coincidence. I do love the Season so.
All the pretty dresses and the lovely parties," Dru graced Cordelia
with a winning smile, which the brunette returned, and expounded on the
story that she and Spike had concocted during their journey from
Ireland. "But no. Our father passed away a few months ago, and William
had to get Daddy’s financial affairs in order. Such a tedious process.
We mutually agreed that a change would be beneficial. So--here we are."

"I’m so sorry for your loss," Buffy responded, and her face lit up as
Joshua caught her eye from across the room. "Please excuse me, Miss
Randall. I do hope we’ll meet again soon."

"I’m sure that we shall," Drusilla nodded, adding to herself, as her
two companions walked away. "You really have no idea, do you, ducks?
Oh, yes. We shall certainly meet again."
 
 

PART 3
Spike handed Willow a glass of wine and sat down beside her on the
settee. His eyes followed her line of sight as she grinned softly at a
slender blonde woman who was standing across the room. Her hand was
clasped lightly around a tall man’s arm, and her eyes glittered up at
him in amusement as he spoke softly to her, his head inclined slightly
toward her ear.

"A friend of yours?" Spike guessed.

Willow nodded, "Buffy--Belinda Giles. We’ve been friends since we were
children. May I introduce you to--"

"She looks rather--preoccupied--with her young man," he declined.

"Joshua Braddock? Oh, he isn’t hers. He’s just one of many," she
replied, then blushed as she realized how that must have sounded. "I
mean...not one of *many*...she’s just...there are several gentlemen who
are...interested in her...in an honorable way, of course. She’s very
beautiful."

He quirked an assessing eyebrow, "If one is attracted to that sort of
woman."

"What sort of woman?" she asked, mildly offended by his remark.

He grinned at the fire in her voice, "She’s a bit waifish, don’t you
think? And a bit obvious. That man has to know she’s fawning all over
him."

"She isn’t *fawning.* She’s interested. And what’s wrong with that?
Joshua certainly doesn’t seem to mind her attention. She’s a very dear
person."

"She must be, to have a friend who defends her so loyally," he agreed.
"You can’t say she doesn’t know how to play the part of the high
society lady. Am I also wrong about that? Or am I simply not allowed an
opinion?"

Willow’s tone softened under the subtle rebuke, "I’m sorry. Of course
you are. It’s just that you’re basing your opinions on sight, only. You
don’t really know the first thing about her."

The vampire could hardly explain to her that his reaction to Miss Giles
was based on his natural abhorrence of the slayer, and he couldn’t help
but admire the way the little redhead held her ground, "You’re
absolutely right. I don’t. My apologies."

She nodded her acceptance and placed her glass of wine on the table
beside her as Cordelia broke away from a small group of guests and made
her way over to them.

"Enjoying yourselves?" the brunette asked the couple.

"Very much," Spike answered, his eyes fixed on the woman sitting beside
him.

Cordy smothered a satisfied smile and gestured toward the open balcony
doors, "It’s a lovely night, and the gardens are beautiful this time of
year. I’m sure Willow would love to go for a stroll."

Willow flashed a quick glare at her friend as Spike stood up and held
out a hand to the redhead, "I’d be honored."

She rose beside him, and he took her arm and guided her across the
room. Xander appeared at his wife’s side, watching the couple as they
left the parlor to descend the stairs to the main floor.

"You’re ruthless, my love," he murmured.

"He’s rich; he’s handsome, and he’s obviously interested. That isn’t
ruthless. That’s just what Willow needs."

"What if Willow doesn’t agree?" he asked, slipping an arm around her
waist as she turned to face him.

"Then he’ll just have to persuade her, won’t he?" she grinned. "Oh,
Xander, she’s been alone for too long, and she doesn’t even make an
effort to attract the right sort of man. She’s so stubbornly blunt; she
scares them off within fifteen minutes of having met her."

"She speaks her mind; that’s all."

"Well, she shouldn’t, at least not so directly. Any well-bred woman
knows it isn’t her place."

Xander laughed out loud and kissed Cordy’s forehead, "You’d better not
ever let Will hear you say that."

She smiled up at him, "I’ve said it so many times, she doesn’t even
bother listening anymore. Anyway, Mr. Randall doesn’t seem to mind. He
certainly didn’t object to walking out with her. It’s good fortune. I
can feel it."

He grinned at her enthusiasm and took her hand in a gentle squeeze,
"Let’s just hope good fortune doesn’t bite."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Do you reside in London, or are you only here for the Season?" the
blonde vampire asked as they wandered aimlessly beyond several other
couples, who had come out to take the refreshing night air, and past
the fragrant flower beds scattered strategically about the beautifully
manicured back lawn.

Willow shook her head, "My parents have an estate in Cambridgeshire,
but I rarely go there. I’m not much for the country life."

"And they’ve unleashed you in London, all on your own?"

She smiled softly, "I’ve been ‘unleashed’ for many years, Mr. Randall.
My parents are fond of traveling. They’re in Italy now, and then
they’re sailing to South Africa."

"Is that hard on you, being left alone so much?"

"Not really. I’m accustomed to it. I’m fairly convinced my mother never
wanted a child. I was thrust from one governess to another until I was
old enough for boarding school. Of course, I made a bad start of *that*
when I asked the headmistress exactly how bored I should expect to be."
She grinned sheepishly as William laughed out loud, "Unfortunately,
I’ve never quite grown into my mouth, or so I’ve been told."

"Well, they were most definitely wrong," he informed her. "Your mouth
is perfectly lovely."

Spike grinned broadly at the scarlet blush that swept over her pale
cheeks and was altogether pleased when she offered no ridiculously
pretentious rebuke, as so many young women of her station would have
done.

"We should go back inside," she said after a moment. "Buffy may be
wishing to leave, and I accompanied her in her carriage this evening."

He nodded and placed a hand on her arm, and they returned to the house.
Cordelia and Xander were standing just inside the front entryway,
bidding a good evening to a young couple. Willow grinned as the
brunette sputtered softly about guests leaving too early, but Cordy
brightened at the sight of the redhead and her companion.

"Mr. Randall, your sister asked me to inform you that she accepted a
ride home with Doctor Pritchard. She seemed to have come down with a
headache, poor thing, and she didn’t like to disturb you and Willow.
How was your walk?" she asked hopefully.

"You were right," Willow replied. "The gardens are lovely. Is Buffy
upstairs? I thought I had better ask her if she--"

"Buffy’s gone. Didn’t she find you?" Xander asked.

"No," she answered. "Gone? When?"

"About fifteen minutes ago, with Joshua." Cordy told her. "Shall I ring
for our carriage for you?"

She shook her head and glanced over at their butler, "If Michael could
fetch a cab for me--"

"Allow me to drop you," the vampire spoke up. "My carriage is just
outside."

"There’s no need to trouble yourself with--"

"It’s no trouble," he insisted.

She looked up at him, considering the offer, and finally nodded, "All
right. Thank you, Mr. Randall."

The butler quickly retrieved her wrap. Spike took her arm as they said
their good-byes and escorted her out the front door. Cordy turned to
Xander, a bright smile gracing her face, and put her arms around his
neck.

"There. You see? Didn’t I say they’d get on well together?" she laughed
delightedly.

"So you did," he agreed and dropped a soft kiss on her lips.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"I wonder that your friend doesn’t seem to be nearly as concerned for
your well-being as you are for hers," Spike said softly as the carriage
rolled along the dark London streets. "Or you would have abandoned her,
as well, had it been your carriage she was relying upon?"

"That’s just Buffy," she waved away his statement. "She meant no
offense."

"Are you always so forgiving of your friends’ shortcomings?"

"Believe me; she forgives just as many of my own," she scowled. "It’s
simply a matter of understanding. As I said before, we grew up
together. Her father virtually adopted me when my parents ventured off
to parts unknown. I think I must have spent more time with them in my
youth than I did in my own home."

"Then her parents are relatively stationary," he prodded.

"Her mother suddenly took ill when Buffy was just an infant, and the
sickness quickly claimed her mother’s life," the redhead explained.
"Her father has doted on her since the day she was born. His business
requires him to be away from the estate quite often, and I
think he rather spoilt her in the process of making up for his
absence."

"His business?"

"He works for the government, in some sort of capacity. Apparently,
it’s all very secret. Whatever it is, it takes him away from London
very infrequently, though he has traveled to America several times in
recent years, but only for a few weeks at a time. So, Mr. Randall, you
know our history. What exactly do you do for your keep?"

He smiled at her bluntness, "I’m too lazy to do anything for my keep."

Her green eyes widened in amused surprise at the unexpected response,
"Are you?"

"I am," he nodded, grinning back at her. "I sleep late; I stay out
later. I do what I like, and I don’t do what I don’t like. How is that
for outspoken, Miss Rosenberg?"

She laughed and nodded her head. "Well done. There’s just one problem."

"Oh? What’s that?" he questioned curiously.

She leaned slightly forward and fixed her sparkling eyes on his, "I
don’t believe for a minute that you’re lazy. In fact, I believe you get
up to as much--and as often--as you possibly can."

She flashed him a satisfied grin and sat back. Spike was truly taken
aback by her perception, and he studied the fascinating young woman
with genuine interest as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of her
house. He stepped out of the carriage and reached up to assist her as
she followed him down onto the walkway that led to the front door.

"Thank you for dropping me," she said sincerely, looking up at him.

"You’re welcome. Miss Rosenberg?" he asked as she stepped away, and she
turned back to him. "Would you dine with me--tomorrow evening?"

She cocked her head, and her lips parted in a playful grin as she
appeared to be studying the handsome man, "I’d like that."

He nodded and took her arm to escort her to the door, and she turned to
look at him as the butler inside opened it to her, "Thank you, again,
Mr. Randall."

He smiled as she stepped across the threshold, "William. And you’re
welcome, again."
 

PART 4
Spike entered the parlor of his Belgravia mansion and glanced over at
Drusilla, who was sitting comfortably in the armchair closest to the
fireplace. He walked to the liquor cart and poured himself a glass of
bloodwine from one of the decanters sitting there before taking a seat
across from her.

"You found your way home safely, I see," he smiled over at her.

"Mmm...yes," she nodded. "I thought you might like to take advantage of
your time alone with that pretty little redhead. So, I took myself out
of your way."

"Miss Rosenberg," he gave her the name. "Willow. She’s a very close
friend of Belinda Giles--she calls her Buffy--and her father. She told
me that Belinda’s mother died from some illness soon after the child
was born. I think Willow must know much more about their past; she’s
been a friend of the slayer since their childhood. She should be a
valuable source of information."

"And I’m sure you’ll enjoy...coaxing...it from her. Anyway, I found
Doctor Pritchard to be a most entertaining dinner companion," Dru
replied.

"Dru, you didn’t," Spike pretended to scold her, an amused grin
twitching at his lips.

"Never mind, my sweet. Along with the many other skills dearest Angelus
taught me, I’ve learned very well how to clean up after a meal," she
assured him.

The blonde vampire nodded, dismissing the topic, "Did you talk to Miss
Giles?"

"Briefly. Long enough."

"And what do you think? Is she who we believe her to be?"

"Oh, yes. Belinda Giles is the slayer." Dru nodded.

Spike smirked, "She told you that herself?"

"Of course not. She has no idea," she answered. "She wasn’t even able
to sense what I am. Whatever can her father be thinking, keeping such
information from the child? The former slayer has been dead for months,
and he still refuses to enlighten his daughter, even after all this
time. The man must be a fool."

"I doubt that," Spike responded. "It hasn’t really been all that long
since we uprooted the council in Ireland. Even if Giles was already
residing in London, it would have taken weeks for the rest of the
council to re-settle and find their footing once again. They could
hardly have been of any use to a novice slayer until they’d
accomplished that, so telling Belinda Giles exactly who she is would
have served no purpose."

"It’s more than that, ducks," Drusilla assured him. "Mr. Giles should
have told her weeks ago. He could have spent the time helping his
beloved girl to adjust to the idea, preparing her. It’s this past
secret that Giles is keeping from his daughter. That is what really
makes him loathe to tell her what she is."

Spike slid to the edge of his chair and peered across at her, "But what
is it, Dru? This secret, is it directly related to her status as the
slayer?"

She sighed dramatically, "I don’t know, lovey. The stars have gone
quiet."

He smiled fondly at her, "Not to worry, pet. We’ll find out for
ourselves. I’m having dinner tomorrow evening with Willow. I’m looking
forward to...coaxing...more out of her."

Dru eyed him knowingly, "You like her. She really is a beautiful
creature."

"That she is. And smart, as well. Eyes that glimmer like gems, and hair
that burns brighter than those flames--" he gestured with his glass
toward the fire as his voice drifted along with his thoughts.

"So, my Spike has found a new toy," Drusilla grinned.

"I could enjoy playing with her," he nodded. "To be honest, I’ve never
met a woman quite like her. Not this side of mortality, anyway."

"Quite a statement, coming from you. Well, when we’ve seen this plan to
its proper conclusion, perhaps Angelus will allow you to have her."

Spike raised his glass in a silent toast and drained its contents as
his companion rose from her chair.

"It’ll be sunrise soon," she spoke softly. "I’m going to bed. Good
night, Mr. Randall."

"Good night, pet," he grinned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Buffy helped herself to a slice of toast from the rack on the sideboard
and turned to take a seat at the dining room table as Willow poured a
cup of tea for her.

"Well?" the young blonde asked as Willow filled her own cup.

She grinned softly and raised an eyebrow, "Well, what?"

"What do you mean, what? Tell me about this William Randall! I only met
his sister very briefly last night--and she struck me as rather odd,
though I can’t quite figure out why. And Cordy was too busy flitting
from guest to guest to be able to tell me much of anything at all. So,
what sort of man is he? Is he really as wealthy as he appears to be?
Does he like you?"

The redhead giggled and shook her head in amusement, "Mr. Randall just
bought the late Lord Heatley’s house--"

"In Belgravia?" Buffy’s eyes widened and she took a careful swallow of
the steaming tea. "Oh, my. He must be wealthy. I’m truly sorry about
abandoning you like that last evening, but Joshua suggested a drive in
the carriage, and he’d come in a cab. Cordy said she would see that you
got home."

Willow rolled her eyes, "I’m sure she did."

"And I understand that you rode back here, with Mr. Randall and his
sister?"

"Yes, but not with his sister. She was suffering with a headache and
left the party before we returned from the garden. Mr. Randall seems to
be a very--pleasant man."

Buffy nearly choked on a bite of toast, "Pleasant? Pleasant! That’s the
best you can say? I saw the way he was looking at you last night--"

"Remarkable. I didn’t think you’d noticed anything other than the man
standing next to you," Willow teased.

"Mr. Randall isn’t the sort of man one tends not to notice. Oh, Will,
he’s so handsome! And he’s obviously attracted to you. Are you going to
see him again?"

She nodded, allowing a small smile to play across her lips, "Tonight."

Buffy blew out an exasperated breath, "How can you be so--so--neutral
about this? You have to see he’d be quite a catch!"

"If I were fishing, which I’m not," she replied. "Buffy, I hardly know
anything about the man."

"But you had a pleasant time with him? You enjoyed his company?"

"I did," she admitted. "But that does not equal a stroll down the
matrimonial aisle. Why are you all so eager to have me pawned off,
anyway?"

"No one wants to ‘pawn’ you off," Buffy wrinkled her nose in distaste
at the indelicate expression. "But you’re so persistent about keeping
yourself to yourself. Xander has Cordelia. I have Josh--hopefully. And
even Daniel is making plans for connubial bliss with Anya--ugh."

The redhead laughed out loud, "I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you say
‘ugh’ before."

"Be serious, Will," she laid a gentle hand on her friend’s arm. "Mr.
Randall would be perfect for you. Cordy said he wasn’t even put off by
your--"

"Unruly tongue?" she offered helpfully.

"Well, yes," Buffy grinned. "You could do a lot worse than him, you
know."

"I’m not exactly languishing in my loneliness, in case you hadn’t
noticed. Anyway, we’ve only just met. At least give me a few weeks to
get to know him before you start picking out my trousseau."

"Done," her friend nodded with a beaming smile as she pushed back her
chair. "Well, are we finished here?"

"Should we be?"

"I’m on my way to the dressmaker’s. Daddy’s bought me a new dress. You
will come along with me, won’t you? I want to know what you think of
it."

"Of course I will," Willow agreed. "I’m sure it will be lovely. Your
clothes always are."

She rose and laced her arm through her friend’s as they walked to the
door.

Buffy squeezed Willow’s arm, "You could do with a new gown or two of
your own, couldn’t you? Something appropriate to catch a certain
handsome gentleman’s eye?"

"Just his eye? I was under the impression that you all wanted me to
hunt down and bag the entire package."

"Willow Rosenberg!" Buffy gasped. "Someday that mouth of yours is going
to get you into serious trouble."

"No doubt," she grinned and closed the dining room door behind them.
 

PART 5
Spike stepped off of the bottom stair and stopped in surprise as he
turned toward the slightly open morning room door across the large
foyer. The door opened wider, and Drusilla stepped out and beckoned to
him.

His eyes met her as he moved toward her, "Is he--"

"He is," she nodded. "Come in. He wants to speak with you."

Spike followed her into the morning room to find Angel sitting in an
armchair, perusing a newspaper. At his childe’s appearance, he lowered
the paper and smiled over at him.

"There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to sleep
away the entire night."

"What are you doing here?" the blonde vampire responded curiously. "I
thought you said it would be a fortnight before you--"

Angelus waved away the question, "Near enough. It sounded as though
things were moving along smoothly enough that I could safely arrive a
few nights early. Unless something has happened that the minions didn’t
relay to me?"

"No," Spike shook his head. "Everything is going along just as we’d
hoped."

"Good," his sire nodded. "Dru and I have been chatting. She tells me
that Belinda Giles is seeing a young man.

"By the name of Joshua Braddock," the blonde vampire replied. "Miss
Giles is certainly interested in him, though I can’t say whether it’s
reciprocated or not. She wasn’t the only woman he was eyeing at that
party last night."

Angelus smirked. "So, you don’t think that he’s a serious obstacle?"

Spike shrugged, "It depends on how determined she is, and how receptive
he is, I suppose."

"If he’s going to get in the way, he’ll have to be removed." Angelus
replied. "We’ll keep an eye him, for the time being. You’re seeing Miss
Rosenberg tonight?"

"You two *have* been talking, " Spike looked over at Drusilla, and she
shrugged and gave him an enigmatic little smile. "Yes, I am."

"Good. I’ve heard Rupert Giles will be leaving London in a few days,
which would allow me the opportunity to affect a meeting with his
daughter while she’s out from under his watchful eye. Attempt to
squeeze out of Miss Rosenberg just exactly when he’ll be leaving and
when he expects to return."

Spike nodded, "Shouldn’t be too painful."

"Getting the information, or doing the squeezing?" his sire grinned.

"Both," the blonde vampire chuckled and stepped out of the room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow performed a slow twirl in front of Cordelia’s appraising eyes,
stopping to face the pretty brunette, "Well, what do you think? Am I
worthy of the auctioning block?"

"Oh, honestly," Cordy gasped. "Sometimes I wonder if you’re fit to be
out in decent society at all. Auctioning block, indeed. Where do you
learn such crass expressions?"

The redhead giggled at her friend’s reaction, "Sorry. I’ve just never
quite understood why people go through such ridiculous courting
rituals."

"So you admit Mr. Randall is courting you."

"I admit that’s the way everyone else perceives it. Including you,"
Willow answered.

"One would think I’d learn better than to try to reason with you,"
Cordelia dismissed the argument with a shake of her head. "When is your
escort due to arrive? It had better be soon, or--"

"Escort?" Willow frowned. "What escort?"

"Surely you weren’t intending to see Mr. Randall without a chaperone?
Oh, Will! Whatever could you be thinking?"

"I’m thinking the last ‘chaperone’ I had was my governess, grizzly old
Miss Sutton, and I was seven at the time. Anyway, you didn’t seem
concerned when he offered his carriage last night. What’s the
difference?"

"The difference is, that was only a short drive home. You simply cannot
spend an entire evening with that man without proper supervision,"
Cordy insisted. "I’ll write Xander a note and have my driver deliver
it, and I’ll accompany the two of you."

"You will do no such thing," Willow scowled. "I swear I don’t
understand all this fuss. First, you practically push me at him, and
now you want to sit between the two of us. We’re only going to dinner.
It isn’t as though we’re sneaking away to his bedroom in Belgravia."

Cordelia all but leapt to her feet, blushing furiously, "Willow
Rosenberg!"

"What?!" the redhead sighed heavily. "Cordy, it’s me, not one of your
pretentiously proper young things!"

"Well, you could be, if you’d put your mind to it!"

"I don’t want to!" Willow shouted. "So leave it be!"

The brunette’s growl of exasperation was interrupted by the sound of
the front door bell. She quickly smoothed out the wrinkle in her brow
and the folds of her skirts and rolled her eyes as Willow grinned
affectionately over at her. Having regained her calm composure, Cordy
smiled as the sitting room door opened, and Spike was gestured inside
by the butler.

"Mrs. Harris," the vampire greeted her with a slight nod before turning
his gaze on the young woman beside her. "Willow, you look lovely."

Cordy made a rather unsuccessful attempt to ignore the overly-familiar
use of her friend’s given name and the way the man’s eyes swept
appreciatively over the attractive redhead’s body. Willow, however, was
entirely unaffected by his use of her name and seemed completely
oblivious to the look in his eyes.

"Would you mind very much if we walked Mrs. Harris out to her carriage
before we leave?" she requested.

"Not at all," he answered, standing aside and allowing Cordelia and
Willow to move out of the room ahead of him and lead the way out to the
street.

The blonde vampire couldn’t help but notice the hesitant gaze the tall
brunette cast at the redhead before she stepped into her carriage.
Willow reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"You’ll come to tea tomorrow?" Cordelia asked as Willow helped her
inside.

"I’d love to," she nodded as Spike reached forward to latch the
carriage door. "Good night, Cordy."

"Good night," she responded, her eyes traveling uncertainly between the
couple once more before she settled back against the seat and signaled
to her driver.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Is Mrs. Harris always so protective of her friends?," Spike inquired
after they had been seated at their table in the restaurant.

"I beg your pardon?" Willow responded in confusion. "Oh! No, that’s
just Cordy's manner, the feminine embodiment of proper behavior."

"And you’re not?"

She shook her head, smiling slightly, "I’ve always been a miserable
failure in that regard. I think I ask too many questions--the wrong
sort--unfortunately."

The vampire arched an eyebrow, "Is it? Unfortunate?"

She shrugged, "I’ve been told that it isn’t very ladylike."

His gaze traveled from her eyes to the silky sheet of her hair that
gleamed in the candlelight and fell about her shoulders to frame the
alluring cut of her décolletage, "I disagree. Completely."

Willow blushed faintly, and he grinned over at her, amused by her
reaction to his forthright compliment.

"Why does that embarrass you?" he questioned her. "Has no one ever told
you how beautiful you are?"

She wriggled uncomfortably as his eyes lingered on her, and she glanced
down at her hands and muttered, "I’m starving. Shall we order?"

Spike chucked and sat back in his chair, keeping his intense blue eyes
fixed upon her as he gestured for their waiter.
 
 

PART 6
"That was wonderful," Willow beamed up at her companion as they stepped
out of the restaurant and into the humid night air.

Spike turned questioning eyes on her as she hesitated beside his
waiting carriage.

"Must we?" she asked.

He arched an eyebrow, "You’ve had your fill of me, along with dinner?"

She smiled broadly, "No! I only meant...well...must we take the
carriage? Couldn’t we walk for a bit instead?"

"It’s going to rain," he cautioned her.

Willow shrugged casually, "I’m willing to take the risk. I don’t melt."

His cool eyes studied her as he thought that he most definitely would
like the opportunity to prove that statement wrong and imagined the
many delicious ways he could go about accomplishing that task.

"Please?" she prodded, completely unaware of the desire lurking beneath
the vampire’s relaxed demeanor.

He smiled and nodded, then motioned to his driver before taking her
arm. They walked along at an easy pace, the carriage following behind
the couple at a discreet distance.

"I understand you purchased Lord Heatley’s estate," she said. "Do you
and your sister live there alone?"

"A friend of mine is staying with me at the moment," he answered.

"Have you no other family?" she asked.

"My mother died years ago, and my father passed on a few months ago,"
Spike lied with guiltless ease.

"Oh. I’m sorry," she responded softly.

He shrugged, "I don’t remember my mother very clearly. I was young when
we lost her. And my father and I were never very close. I don’t miss
him. I suppose that must sound callous."

Willow smiled, "I think I understand. Sounds a bit like my own family,
in some ways. That sort of estrangement makes one appreciate the
reliability of one’s friends all the more."

"I agree," he nodded, his thoughts flitting briefly to his dark-haired
sire.

"Will you be--" she halted her inquiry as a heavy splatter of rain
splashed down on her shoulder, and she held out a hand as large, cold
drops began to fall. "Oh, dear."

As if in direct response to the remark, the clouds tore open with a
loud rumble of thunder and it began to pour in earnest, drenching the
streets, the pavement, and the clothing of the couple standing upon it.
Spike turned and whistled back to the carriage behind them, and his
driver snapped the horse into a quick trot. By the time it pulled up
alongside them and they scrambled inside, the little redhead was
thoroughly soaked. Willow laughed in amusement as she plopped down onto
the seat across from her companion, and Spike futilely attempted to dry
his wet hands on his equally wet overcoat. He looked over at her as she
grinned and swept a strand of wet hair away from her neck.

"You’re cold," he said as she shivered slightly in the damp, chilly
air.

She sniffled delicately around her wide smile, "And wet."

He gazed over at her, amazed at her childlike delight, and found
himself captivated by the sight of her. Water dripped from her hair,
its deep red tresses intensified by the rain. Her cheeks were slightly
flushed with a mixture of exertion from struggling with her skirts,
made even heavier by the water that had saturated them, and the cold
air that stung her pale skin. Her luminous green eyes sparkled back at
him as she laughed softly and dabbed at her wet face with the back of
her hand.

Spike reached into his pocket and extracted a handkerchief, leaning
forward to gently brush it over her wet cheeks as he spoke softly,
"You’ll catch your death, thanks to me."

She giggled and placed a small hand over his to take the handkerchief
from him, "Don’t fuss so. It’s only rain. See? I haven’t melted."

The vampire was completely disarmed by her lack of concern over her
current disheveled state and couldn’t help laughing with her, "Luv, you
looked like a drowned kitten. A very beautiful kitten, but drowned,
nonetheless."

She either completely missed the quick compliment or she was so unused
to receiving them, she didn’t recognize it for what it was, and she
merely shook her head and gave him her own appraising once-over, "You
don’t look much better, yourself."

"We really had better get you into something dry," he suggested as her
lips trembled slightly.

She nodded her agreement, and he leaned out and shouted his orders to
the driver.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow turned to Spike as he paused just inside the front door, and he
smiled as she stood, dripping upon the hardwood floor.

"Best go up and get changed, pet," he told her as he turned back toward
the door.

"Must you go?" the disappointment in her voice was unmistakable. "We
really were having the most lovely evening, weren’t we? We don’t have
to let the rain spoil it, do we? There’s a fire laid up in the parlor
upstairs and some of papa’s best claret. It would only take me a moment
to change into something dry, if only you’ll wait. Please?"

The vampire’s still heart fairly lurched as he gazed into her
beseeching eyes, and he nodded once and replied, "I’d like that."

"Oh, wonderful!" the dazzling smile returned to her lips. "I’ll send
the footman out to fetch your driver. I gave Phillips, our butler, the
night off since I was going to be out, anyway. He can warm himself in
the kitchen. Your driver, I mean. Do take off that wet coat. Just leave
it...here, on this chair."

He grinned at her tangled babbling and closed the front door before
shrugging off his coat and draping it over the chair. With a smile, she
turned, and he followed the little redhead up the stairs.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Spike took a sip of wine and set the glass on the mantle to hold his
cold hands out to the fire, its hot flames already beginning to dry his
dampened pant legs. His eyes drifted over the tastefully decorated
parlor, stopping to study the large portrait hanging above the
fireplace. The woman’s face held a delicate beauty strongly reminiscent
of his companion for the evening. The subject’s eyes held the same
green twinkle of intelligence, the same fiery hair, the same porcelain
complexion, but the painting looked too old to be that of Willow’s
mother.

"My grandmother," the little redhead spoke from the open doorway. "I
never knew her, but I’m told we’re very much alike."

"That you are," he nodded, turning to her as she stepped over the
threshold. "In beauty, at the very least."

That compliment did not go unnoticed by the young woman, and Spike
grinned in response to her crimson blush and moved to the liquor
cabinet to pour her a glass of wine before retrieving his own from the
mantle. She accepted the proffered glass with a soft "thank you" and
perched on the edge of the settee while he remained in front of the
warming fire.

"Are you very miserable?" she asked, fearful that he had agreed to her
request to stay at the expense of his own comfort.

He shook his head and smiled over at her, "Nearly dry, actually. My
coat seems to have spared me from the thorough soaking to which you
were treated."

"Good," she nodded, her expression mirroring the relief in her voice.

"This is a beautiful home," he remarked. "Have you always lived here?"

"Yes, apart from boarding school," she grinned as their conversation
from the night before echoed behind her answer.

"Is that where you met your friend--what was your pet name for her?
Bunny?"

Willow laughed, "Buffy. Yes, since my parents were both away so much, I
spent most of my holidays with her and her father. Those were lovely
times, really. Mr. Giles was so attentive; I hardly felt abandoned at
all by my own parents, and I like to think my companionship helped
Buffy in the same way when her father had to make infrequent trips."

"I’m sure it did," he nodded. "But what about when he took his daughter
along with him? Who looked after you then?"

"She never accompanied him," the redhead shrugged. "Aside from a few
trips to America, he’s not often away for more than a fortnight, and
usually far less than that. This trip he has scheduled at the end of
this week, for example--depart on Saturday, return the following
Friday. Buffy has so many other distractions--usually in the form of
Joshua Braddock. I only hope that she isn’t more devoted to him than he
is to her. He does like the ladies, though Buffy pretends not to
notice, and they do spend a lot of time together, especially when her
father is away from London. I expect he’ll keep her so occupied that
she’ll barely realize her father is gone before he’s back once again."

The innocent rambling provided the information that the vampire had
been seeking, and he promptly redirected the conversation before she
could begin to wonder why he seemed so interested in Belinda and Rupert
Giles.

"I’m sorry our evening out was so suddenly interrupted."

She arched an eyebrow, her eyes dancing with silent laughter, as she
looked over at the rain-streaked window across the room, "So that’s
*your* fault, then?"

Still amazed at this little creature’s unassuming sense of humor, he
chuckled and moved away from the fireplace to lower his lean frame into
the armchair facing her.

"I wonder how it’s possible," he murmured just loudly enough for her to
hear.

Her brow wrinkled in confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

"However have you managed to slip through the grasp of all the eligible
young men in London?"

She laughed aloud, "I can assure you; no one’s been doing any
‘grasping,’ Mr. Randall. On the contrary, most of them tend to bolt
within ten minutes of having met me."

He shook his head in apparent disbelief, his eyes still fixed on hers,
"That doesn’t speak very well for the men in this city."

"Flatterer," she scoffed good-naturedly. "But what about you? Did you
leave no young woman behind in...wherever it is you were before
London?"

"Ireland," he answered. "No, no one of consequence. I’ve never spent
much time cultivating...lasting relationships. I never found anyone who
was worth the effort."

"Ah," she nodded understandingly.

"Until now," he added, his blue eyes piercing the green of hers.

Willow fidgeted uncomfortably for a moment before letting the statement
go with a small grin, "I think you’ve had too much wine, Mr. Randall."

"William," he insisted, enjoying her discomfort.

"William," she murmured, and he watched with interest as she seemed to
fade inside of herself for a scant moment before shaking her thoughts
free and rising to her feet. "It doesn’t look as though the rain is
going to end anytime soon, does it?"

"No," he agreed, standing with her. "And it’s getting late. I should
go."

"Yes, I suppose so," she spoke softly, and a thrill ran through the
vampire’s cold veins at the unmistakable regret in her voice.

He followed her out of the parlor and down the ornate staircase, his
eyes lingering on her exquisite form as they moved together toward the
door.

"Thank you for a very pleasant evening, Mr.--William," she said.

He nodded and took his coat from the chair near the door and shrugged
it on, then reached for her hand.

"I’ll call on you tomorrow evening, if that’s agreeable," he suggested.

"Yes, please," she smiled.

He raised her hand to brush his lips lightly across the warm flesh,
then stepped into her and dropped a brief, soft kiss on her lips before
turning quickly and letting himself out the front door.

Willow’s stunned eyes stared at where he had stood, and she raised her
fingers to her mouth, brushing her fingertips across her lips, and
whispered softly, "Oh, my."
 
 

PART 7
"So, tell me. How was your evening with Mr. Randall?" Cordy asked after
she had poured a cup of tea and handed it to her guest. "Did he behave
respectably?"

"Did you know that a bird has built a nest in that little bush just
beside your front door? She squabbled at me when I came up your steps,"
the redhead casually informed her hostess.

"Willow!" the brunette grumbled impatiently.

She raised her large green eyes over the rim of her teacup and
responded innocently,
"Hmmm?"

"You won’t put me off like that, you know," Cordelia informed her. "Was
he a gentleman?"

"Isn’t there some sort of saying about busybodies and--"

"I am *not* a busybody! I’m only concerned for your reputation!"

"Which is odd, actually, when you think about it. After all, it is *my*
reputation. I can’t quite understand why anyone else should be
concerned about it."

"Well, if you recall, it was *I* who introduced you," her friend
reminded her sharply.

"That’s very true. Now, if you would only step away and leave the rest
of it alone," Willow sighed as Cordy’s insistent eyes remained fixed
upon her. "Oh, very well. We had a lovely dinner. Then we walked for a
bit, until we were caught in that dreadful downpour and had to make a
mad scramble for his carriage--"

"Oh, I hope you didn’t scramble! How completely unladylike!"

"Considering the state of my hair and clothes, I think ladylike was
fairly nonexistent anyway," Willow grinned.

"Good heavens. What must Mr. Randall think of you?"

"We had a wonderful evening, Cordy. I promise. And he was a perfect
gentleman," the redhead assured her, judiciously neglecting to mention
the fleeting kiss with which William Randall had left her.

"So, you like him? Please, tell me you like him."

She laughed at the hopeful plea, "I like him."

"And he likes you."

"Well, I can’t speak for him, of course, but he didn’t run away,
shrieking in terror."

"For you, my dear, that’s progress," Cordy smiled with good-natured
sarcasm. "When will you see him again? Shall I invite the two of you to
dinner one evening?"

"No!" Willow squealed. "Cordy, please just leave it alone. I enjoy his
company, and I think he enjoys mine, but honestly, vows of eternal
commitment are not wafting romantically through my dreams."

"Oh, all right," the brunette grudgingly relented. "But you will let me
know--"

"Cordy," the redhead groaned.

"I’m sorry," she grinned. "I’ll try to mind my own business. I
promise."

Willow giggled and shook her head, "And I promise I won’t hold you to
that promise."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Drusilla and Spike had left the Belgravia mansion early in the evening
to feed before spending the night trailing Rupert Giles. They now stood
in the shadows across the street, their eyes trained on the upper-class
house that Giles and several other wealthy men had entered
three-quarters of an hour ago. As the vampires watched, the front door
opened,
and Giles stepped outside. A young blond-haired man followed closely
behind him. The two men spoke for a moment, then shook hands and turned
away from one another to walk off in opposite directions.

"Joshua Braddock is a member of the council," Spike muttered after a
few moments of astonished silence.

"And Belinda Giles has no idea," Drusilla giggled. "No idea, poor lamb,
that her father arranged it."

His blue eyes darted over at her as they fell into step beside one
another to follow Braddock at a discreet distance, "Arranged it?"

"Well, of course," she smiled. "Daddy wants his princess to be happy,
doesn’t he? But his little girl grew up and turned into a slayer--"

Spike snorted at her statement and linked his arm through hers.

"And he knows the time is growing short," she continued. "He must soon
tell his beloved what she truly is. Perhaps she’ll be more willing, he
thinks, to accept the fact that she’s the slayer and to work with the
council if she’s in love with one of their own."

The blonde vampire arched an eyebrow, "And Braddock is in on this
scheme?"

"He is," she nodded. "Oh, look--"

She gripped his arm and pulled him to a stop as Joshua crossed the
street corner to greet a tall, dark-haired woman. They embraced, and
her laughter trickled across to them as Braddock pulled her away from
the dim light of the street lamp to place a long kiss on her lips.

"Willow implied that he has a wandering eye," Spike said dryly. "I
wonder if she knows that his other body parts wander as well."

"I rather doubt it. She is an innocent."

He shook his head, "She’s wiser than you know."

"But she knows nothing of this," Drusilla assured him as they watched
the amorous couple walk away from them. "I must meet your little
redhead. I only caught a glimpse of her at that splendid party, but
your description of her intrigues me. I think I could like her. You
want her, don’t you, Spike?"

He looked down at her without answering.

She laughed softly and tugged at his arm, and they continued to follow
Braddock and the woman, "Then you shall have her, pet."

"You’re not against that?" he asked in obvious surprise.

"Of course not," she shrugged. "She’s your perfection, dearest. Your
intended mate. Even Miss Edith agrees with me. So, you’ll have your
Willow, and I’ll have my Angelus. Don’t you think that sounds lovely?"

"Mmm," he murmured. "And what about Belinda Giles? You know that
Angelus is going to go after her."

"She’s of no consequence; she’s merely a means to an end. I’ll deal
with her, when the times comes." Drusilla assured him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Angelus leaned back in the armchair, his fingers steepled together, and
grinned as Spike recounted the previous evening’s conversation with
Willow and all that he and Dru had learned about Joshua Braddock after
having followed him only an hour ago.

"Well done," the dark vampire nodded. "So, Rupert Giles will be away
for seven days. That should give us ample time to arrange an innocent
meeting with his daughter. And you’re sure she hasn’t any idea of the
true nature of his business?"

Spike shook his head, "I shouldn’t think so. I believe he never speaks
of it to her--or anyone outside of the council, for that matter."

His sire chuckled, "How very prudent of him. Can you imagine the
public’s reaction if they were to discover that some of Britain’s most
intelligent men have made chasing after vampires their lives’
mission--on two continents, no less?"

Spike’s answering grin failed to reach his crystalline eyes, "That
might be entertaining, if they weren’t so damned competent. Bloody
hell, one of them is raising the current slayer!"

"It amazes me that Giles hasn’t revealed her true calling to his
daughter. Fortunately for us, his judgment is blurred by love. Vampire
activity in London hasn’t been this rampant in a century. I wonder how
he justifies that to himself."

"These trips that Giles has been taking for the past several
years--from London to America and back again--what do you make of
those?" Spike asked.

"I assume it’s the Hellmouth on the east coast, don’t you?" Angelus
responded. "Did the former slayer and her watcher accompany him on
those journey?"

"Willow didn’t say--not that she would have. How could she know of the
slayer’s existence unless Giles spoke to her of it?"

"Which he obviously wouldn’t," his sire agreed and rose to pace the
floor in agitated frustration. "The man is an enigma. Has he known all
along that he’s raising a slayer, or did he only discover it after you
killed her predecessor?"

"That seems too much of a coincidence," Spike answered.

The darker vampire nodded, "I agree. It’s incidental to our plans,
anyway, except for the fact that I cannot read him. If the council has
assigned him to be Belinda’s watcher--and I can’t believe that they
haven’t--he’s going to be a most unorthodox one. Which makes him that
much more a formidable opponent. We’re going to have to be very
careful,
Spike. Giles can’t put off for much longer reveling his secrets to his
daughter. If I’m going to seduce her away from the council, I’m going
to have to do it quickly."

"And you’re so certain that setting his daughter against him is going
to stop the council?" his childe questioned skeptically. "It would be a
hell of a lot easier just to kill the pair of them."

"Maybe so," Angelus conceded. "But we’d only end up with another
slayer. We’d set back their cause for a few more months, but we
wouldn’t stop them. If I can bring Belinda Giles over to our side, I
can train her to be a weapon that *we* can use. No other slayer will be
called while she’s alive and breathing, and by the time I turn her,
she’ll be so powerful that no other slayer will be able to touch her.
If the council doesn’t dismantle out of sheer terror, it’ll crumble out
of utter defeat."

"What about Belinda Giles’ young man? Willow implied that he rather
monopolizes her time. We might be able to use her infatuation with
him.."

Angelus stopped pacing and turned to look at his childe, "What did you
have in mind?"

"Well, Miss Giles clearly doesn’t know that Braddock is a member of the
council, and neither he nor her father are going to reveal that to her
until Giles is ready to tell her the rest of it--including the fact
that her father orchestrated their--courtship. From the way Willow
spoke and from Belinda’s actions when she was with Braddock at that
party, she’s obviously besotted with the idiot. Giles must be assuming
that, by the time he tells her the truth, she’ll be so in love with
Braddock that she’ll understand and forgive them for having set up the
pair of them."

"That’s a dangerous assumption," his sire remarked. "Women’s hearts are
unpredictable. She could end up hating the both of them."

"Giles knows his daughter well. Willow says they’re very close. He must
be fairly well convinced that she’ll have just the opposite reaction,"
Spike pointed out. "She may embrace her status as the slayer and the
council as a whole because she loves her father and Braddock."

Angelus’ countenance darkened in anger, "That won’t do. I will *not*
allow that to happen."

"You may not have to," Spike grinned, and Angelus’ eyes returned to
him. "As much as he dotes on her, I can’t believe that Giles would
knowingly throw his precious daughter into the arms of a rake. Dru and
I followed Braddock and his companion to a small house that was clearly
too modest to be his own. They went inside, and he was still there when
we left a half hour later."

After allowing a few moments to let that information register in his
brain, Angelus said, "Rupert Giles’ daughter is too proper to raise her
skirt for Braddock, so he’s getting it elsewhere. And the slayer has no
idea."

Spike nodded, "But what if she did? What if she discovered what sort of
man he is that she believes she’s falling in love with?"

His sire grinned approvingly, "Go on."

Spike paused to collect his thoughts before continuing, "Where do you
suppose Lanette is keeping herself these days? I’ll wager that young
Mr. Braddock could hardly ignore her considerable feminine charms. She
owes me a favor, and you know how she enjoys seducing her human lovers
before she drains them. She invites him to join her for an illicit
liaison. Afterward, when Lanette has him alone, I’m sure she’ll have no
trouble ‘persuading’ Braddock to write a letter to Miss Giles
apologizing for his behavior and explaining that he is leaving London.
We arrange for one of our cabbies to pick them up at Lanette’s place,
and I’ll make sure that Willow is present just in time to see the *two*
of them leaving together. Lanette takes Braddock out of London and
leaves his body where it won’t be discovered. Between Braddock’s letter
and Willow’s witness, it will be apparent to Miss Giles that he’s gone
off with another woman. She’ll never know she’s actually been jilted by
a corpse. And we get one less council member as a bonus."

Angelus grinned wickedly, warmly quickly to the idea, "If he were to
succumb to another woman’s charms, Miss Giles would be either
distraught or irate. Either reaction would provide the perfect
circumstance to meet the young woman, just when she needs a
sympathetic distraction. You could arrange such an introduction?"

Spike smiled, "With Willow’s assistance."

"Tell me the location of the house where you saw Braddock tonight. I’ll
hunt down Lanette, and we’ll trail him from there. Giles leaves on
Saturday, so that’s the night we’ll set this in motion. We’ll need to
get a good look at Braddock and to track his movements so Lanette will
have an idea of where to find him Saturday night. You locate one of our
boys and arrange to have a cab ready outside her place that night,"
Angelus clapped Spike on the shoulder and turned toward the door.
"You’ve done well, my boy; I’m impressed. If this scheme succeeds,
Willow is yours, with no interference--of any kind--from me."

Spike stared after him for a second, then a wide grin spread over his
face, and he followed his sire to the foyer and out of the mansion.
 
 

PART 8
Willow groaned unhappily as her eyes fell upon the embossed card she
had dropped onto the writing table in the sitting room earlier that
day.

"So much for promises," she muttered to herself as she picked up the
invitation and reread it.

"I beg your pardon, Miss?" the butler spoke from the open door behind
her.

She whirled around, unaware that he had entered the room, and blushed
faintly at having been discovered talking to herself, "Oh, it’s
nothing, Phillips."

"You have a visitor, Miss," he informed her, stepping aside to gesture
the man inside. "Mr. Randall."

Willow smiled over at the vampire as the butler closed the door, "I
didn’t hear the bell."

"You were probably too absorbed in--that," he grinned back at her,
indicating the card in her hand.

"Probably," she agreed with a little scowl before flicking the
invitation back down onto the table.

"Something unpleasant, by the look of it," he guessed.

She rolled her eyes, "It’s a summons. My presence is requested at a
dinner party held by Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Harris on Saturday
evening."

"Is their cook really that unskilled?"

The redhead laughed and moved across the room, motioning for Spike to
sit as she perched on the edge of an armchair, "Her cook is unrivaled.
One of the best in London."

"Hmmm, then it must be the company you find so disagreeable."

"No, not disagreeable--well, their conversation, perhaps," she
remarked. "Never mind. I’m making it sound much worse than it is.
Maybe. Hopefully."

He chuckled, "Would it be too forward of me to offer to accompany you?"

Her eyes darted hopefully to him, "Oh, would you? I realize that it’s
terribly short notice--tomorrow night, no less! I think she really
planned it as a means to entertain Buffy now that her father is away.
But Cordy’s invitation specifically requests that I bring a guest, and
I know you’re the specific guest she has in mind."

"Then it’s settled," he nodded. "What time shall I call for you?"

"Seven o’clock?" she suggested, to which he nodded his acknowledgment.
"Thank you so much, Mr.--William. Your presence may actually make the
evening bearable."

"I hope so," he smiled. "Now that that’s taken care of, what about
tonight’s dinner? Would *you* accompany *me*?"

"I’m suddenly famished," she accepted eagerly. "I’m afraid I let that
silly invitation bother me so that I’ve had no appetite up until now."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Do you miss Ireland very much?" Willow continued the conversation that
had begun inside the restaurant as they stepped out into the warm night
air.

"Sometimes. Though I’m finding that London has charms all its own," he
smiled down at her and linked his arm through hers.

She blushed but met his eyes without hesitation, "Wherever did you
acquire that gift of flattery?"

"Not flattery," he insisted. "Merely a statement of observation."

She pulled at his arm as they neared Spike’s carriage, "There’s no
threat of rain tonight, and I never really got that walk the other
evening."

"So you didn’t," he nodded, stepping away and looking up at his driver.
"How does Hyde Park sound?"

"Lovely," she smiled.

The carriage pulled away to await them at the park as the couple walked
slowly down the street. They talked casually as Spike subtly steered
their course past several small shops along the route he knew would
lead them to the "accidental" discovery of Lanette and Braddock. A
clock in the distance chimed the hour, and the vampire slowed their
pace so as not to arrive at their destination too early. They
approached a quaint jeweler’s shop, and Willow turned as her eye caught
sight of the an emerald necklace she had been admiring with Buffy
several days ago.

"Do you fancy it?" Spike asked.

"It’s beautiful," she answered.

"It matches your eyes," he noted with a small smile as he pulled her
toward the door.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes wide in bewilderment.

"What does it look like?" he chuckled softly.

"But...but...you can’t!"

"Why not?" he questioned as he pulled on the locked door.

"There. You see? It’s closed for the night," she breathed in relief.

He arched an eyebrow and peered through the glass, "Only just. There’s
a light still burning."

Willow gasped as the vampire pounded loudly on the door, and a few
seconds later, a grey-haired gentleman appeared on the other side. He
unlocked the door and pulled it open a mere sliver.

"I’m sorry, sir. We’re shut."

"The emerald necklace in the window--" Spike spoke insistently.

"Oh!" the man’s eyes widened at the prospect of selling such an
expensive piece of jewelry. "Oh, well, then. Of course. Do come in."

"William!" Willow hissed as the proprietor opened wide the door, and
Spike pulled her inside after him. "You can’t!"

"Of course I can," he shrugged as the man retrieved the necklace from
its place in the window.

The platinum placket of emeralds twinkled in the dim light of the shop
as he handed it over to the blonde vampire. It was, unquestionably, an
exquisite piece, and Spike eyed it with undisguised appreciation before
glancing at Willow.

"Let’s see how it looks," he suggested, placing a hand on her shoulder
and gently turning her away.

With an embarrassed sigh, she swept her long hair away from her neck,
and he clasped the necklace around throat and turned her back to face
him.

"It looks as though it were made for the lady," the grey-haired man
said hopefully.

"Indeed it does," Spike agreed and thrust a hand into his pocket to
pull out a thick bundle of notes, peeling off several and folding them
into the man’s hand. "Is that adequate?"

"Quite!" the man nodded enthusiastically. "I’ll just get the case for
Madam."

"Madam," the redhead grumbled as the man stepped away. "He makes me
sound like a spinster."

"You don’t look like one," Spike grinned.

"I can’t accept this," she told him.

"You must. It’s a gift."

"It’s far too expensive."

"Nonsense."

"People will think that--"

"Good. Let them. Do you really want to try getting that money away from
*him*?" he nodded toward the old man.

"You’re incorrigible," she muttered.

"You’re right," he confessed. "You’re a beautiful woman, Willow. You
should have beautiful things."

"Cordelia is going to love this," she murmured.

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Just be grateful it wasn’t a
ring you were admiring."

The redhead laughed softly and shook her head, "Incorrigible."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Are we lost?" Willow asked as she surveyed their unfamiliar
surroundings and moved a little closer to the vampire’s side, much to
his delight.

"It’s possible," he answered, suppressing a grin. "It’s been awhile
since I’ve been in London."

"Well, which way do you think we ought to go?" she wondered, trying to
keep the tremor in her stomach from reaching her voice. "Oh, look.
Isn’t that a cab in front of that house? The one just up there? Do you
suppose he’s waiting for someone?"

"Even if he’s engaged, we can at least ask him for directions," Spike
suggested.

"Good idea," she agreed and stayed close to his side as they moved a
little father down the street.

The minion driving the hansom cab had stopped beside a street lamp just
as Spike had instructed him, and Willow could clearly make out the
features of Joshua Braddock as the door on the house opened, and he
followed an unfamiliar lady out to the cab.

The redhead gasped quietly and gripped Spike’s arm, pulling him to a
stop along the walkway opposite the cab, "William--that’s--"

"Mr. Braddock, isn’t it?" he asked, pretending to squint against the
darkness and the hazy glow of the street lamp.

"Yes!" she whispered incredulously. "But who is that woman? And why is
Joshua with her?"

"A relative?" he suggested, feigning ignorance.

She shook her head as the driver urged the horse into motion and the
cab slowly moved away, "Not in this area. I can’t understand it."

Her eyes followed the cab until it turned the corner and faded into the
darkness, and she shook her head wonderingly.

"Never mind, pet," Spike said. "There’s probably a very simple
explanation."

"Probably," she responded, though she sounded wholly uncertain. She
shook off her confusion and looked up at him, "What are we going to do
now? We’re still lost."

"You know what we could do?" he asked, a hint of humor creeping into
his voice.

"No. What?"

"We could turn around and go back the way we came."

She grinned, than laughed out loud, "We could do that, couldn’t we?"
 
 

PART 9
Spike rose from the chair in the sitting room as Willow’s footsteps
bounded quickly down the stairs to the entryway. He stepped into the
large foyer as she came down the remaining steps, her red hair spilling
in gleaming tresses over her shoulders.

"Oh, dear," she spoke as his laughing eyes gazed over at her. "Mother
used to scold me for running down the stairs. The whole unladylike
issue."

"Well, ‘Mother’ isn’t here, so let’s not worry about it, shall we?" he
suggested with an amused chuckle.

"Quite right," she agreed. "Well, I’m ready for the lioness’ den."

His eyes traveled over the deep green dress that she had chosen and the
sparkling emerald necklace lying just below the hollow of her throat,
"Pet, you could charm the lioness right out of her den."

She beamed over at him and giggled, "Have you ever tried charming
Cordy?"

"No," he admitted. "A difficult undertaking?"

"Very," she nodded, and the smile faded from her pretty face. "William,
you won’t mention--what we saw last night--will you?"

"Joshua Braddock?" he assumed.

"Yes. Only, I haven’t spoken a word to anyone about it. I mean, after
all, we don’t know what was going on, do we? I wouldn’t like to cast
aspersions on something that was probably very innocent, or upset Buffy
needlessly, and he’s going to be joining us at dinner tonight. If he
feels Buffy should know, it’s his place to tell her, not ours. So, you
won’t--"

"Of course not," he answered not unkindly. "I hardly know the man,
anyway. It’s hardly likely to come up in casual conversation."

"No, of course not," she agreed. "I just thought I ought to mention it
before we--"

"It’s all right, Willow," he smiled and offered her his arm. "Let’s put
the whole incident out of our minds and just enjoy the evening
together."

"Together," she echoed very softly. "Yes. Let’s."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A small swarm of servants swept down on the dining table and began
clearing the dishes as Cordelia and Xander led their guests out of the
dining room and into the parlor down the corridor. The butler and
parlor maid were waiting in silence to serve from the tea tray they had
brought in just moments before.

"You look stunning, my dear," Cordy spoke softly as she and Willow
stood a short distance away from the others. "Mr. Randall seems to be
having a positive influence on you. And what a lovely necklace. I
haven’t seen that before, have I?"

"No, it’s--a gift," Willow answered hesitantly.

The brunette raised an surprised eyebrow, "A gift? From Mr. Randall?"

"Well, sort of--"

"But that’s wonderful! He must be very taken with you to have purchased
something so exquisite! And it’s long overdue; I must say."

"Of course you must," the redhead replied dryly.

"Oh, stop," Cordy scolded. "Don’t even try to persuade me that you
aren’t just as interested in him as he so obviously is in you. I
watched you two over the dinner table. You could barely keep your eyes
off of one another."

Willow shifted uncomfortably and steered the conversation away from
herself, "What about Buffy? She seems very quiet. I thought Joshua was
to accompany her tonight."

"So did she," Cordy nodded. "Apparently, he sent word at the last
minute that he would not be available. I didn’t find out myself until
she arrived here alone. It wreaked havoc on the seating arrangements at
dinner."

"I doubt anyone noticed," Willow frowned as she saw Buffy moving out
onto the balcony. "I’m going to see how she is."

The redhead left her hostess and stepped out the double doors that were
opened onto the balcony. She moved to Buffy’s side and turned to lean
against the railing.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly.

"No, not really," the blonde young woman murmured, staring out into the
darkness.

"I’m sure Joshua must have had a good reason for not being here
tonight. It’s probably just unexpected business that called him away.
He wouldn’t have left you on your own so suddenly if he’d had any other
choice."

"That’s what I thought, as well," Buffy responded.

"Thought? I don’t understand. Buffy, what’s happened?" Willow asked.

"He’s gone, Willow," she whispered so softly the redhead had difficulty
hearing her. "He’s left me--for someone else."

Visions of Braddock and the unfamiliar young woman stepping out of the
strange house filtered through Willow’s mind, "Left you? What makes you
think that he’d do such a thing?"

"I received a letter from him," she answered. "It was delivered just
before I left the house tonight. He left London last night, Will! He
said he was sorry for--for hurting me. That there’s another woman
involved--"

"Oh," Willow groaned softly and leaned against the railing.

Buffy looked over at her, "What is it? I wanted to believe he was
joking, that he was pulling one of his ridiculous pranks. But he
wasn’t, was he? You know something about this, don’t you? What? What is
it?"

"I’m sorry, Buffy. I didn’t realize at the time--I saw Joshua last
night--purely by accident-- with a woman I had never seen before," she
explained, leaving William Randall’s name out the account, as she
reached out to take her friend’s hand. "They got into a cab together
and drove off. I didn’t know what to think. I assumed there must be an
innocent explanation--"

"That had to have been her," Buffy spoke, her voice hoarse with tears.
"It wasn’t a joke. He wrote that he’d left with a woman. He didn’t even
say where he was going! Willow--you haven’t told anyone else about
this!"

"No, no of course not," the redhead quickly assured her.

"Please don’t. At least not tonight," Buffy pleaded. "I suppose it’s
all going to come out anyway, but I couldn’t bear telling everyone in
there tonight."

"I promise I won’t say anything, if that’s what you want. But
Buffy--are you all right? I mean--"

"I’ll manage," she nodded. "The men will excuse themselves to the
sitting room, shortly, and I’ll--I don’t know, pretend I have a
headache or something--and slip out after they’ve gone. Just don’t say
anything."

"All right," Willow agreed. "Shall I excuse myself early and stop by to
see you?"

"No, thank you. I think I’ll just go home and go straight to bed," the
young woman smiled weakly and visibly collected herself. "Enough of
this for now. We must go in before people begin to wonder, but thank
you for coming out to talk to me, Will."

"I wouldn’t be anywhere else," Willow responded and gave her a quick
hug.

"Somehow, I think you’d much rather be embracing your young man," Buffy
forced a tone of lightness into her voice. "And it occurs to me that I
haven’t even become acquainted with him, yet."

"You spoke over dinner."

"That hardly counts," she shook her head. "After all, Cordelia has
perfected the art of directing a dinner conversation. Come along. I
want to meet him properly. Besides, I’m in desperate need of the
distraction."

"Very well," Willow smiled and followed the blonde back inside.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"You’ve never visited London before, Mr. Randall?" Buffy asked as she
stood beside Willow’s elbow. "I can’t recall having seen you before,
and you’re not the sort of man one would tend to forget."

Spike couldn’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed by the soft grin
that curled Willow’s lips at her young friend’s remark as he answered,
"I’ve spent the past several years in Ireland and Europe. But, no, this
isn’t my first visit to London."

"Then I’m sorry we haven’t had the opportunity to become acquainted
before now," the blonde woman replied. "At least that oversight can be
corrected. You must be staying on for some time. After all, you’ve
purchased the Heatley estate."

"Yes. I’m rediscovering London’s--attractions," he responded, his eyes
settling on Willow. "Much to my delight."

The redhead blushed faintly and busily studied the man’s shoes as Buffy
said, "My father is traveling on business this week, and he arranged
for me to host a dinner party while he’s away."

Cordy politely stepped over to join them, and Willow glanced at Buffy,
surprised to hear that she was still planning on hosting a formal
dinner considering her present situation.

"Thank you," Spiker responded. "If you’re certain it won’t be an
inconvenience."

Buffy shook her head very slightly and continued to address the
vampire, "It’s only a few friends--you’ve already met some of them.
Please join us. Of course, I’ll have a proper invitation delivered to
you--"

"I’m sure we’d enjoy that," Spike nodded, reaching over to gently clasp
Willow’s arm as he included her in on his casual acceptance.

Cordy nodded and smiled enthusiastically, "And it will allow you the
opportunity to meet Buffy’s young man. I’m sure you saw him at our
party last week, but I don’t believe you were properly introduced."

The redhead’s uneasy glance shifted from Buffy’s fallen countenance to
Spike’s barely concealed smile.

"Yes, it’s unfortunate that he couldn’t be here this evening," Buffy
agreed, quickly regaining her composure.

"Yes," Cordy agreed. "His absence was completely unexpected. I suppose
he was called away on business of some sort. He should have at least
sent word that he would not be able to attend, but--that’s Joshua."

"Quite," Buffy nodded, scowling slightly and wishing to have the topic
of discussion ended. "If you’ll forgive me, I think I’ll excuse myself
for tonight."

"So early? Are you feeling ill?" the tall brunette inquired, concerned.

"It’s just a headache," she assured her. "Thank you for inviting me,
Cordy. Dinner was lovely. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Randall."

"I’ll look forward to receiving your invitation to dinner," he nodded
in response.

"Good night, Will," Buffy gave her friend a quick hug.

"Good night, Buffy."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Spike waited until Willow had seated herself on the settee in the
parlor of her home before walking to the liquor cart and pouring two
glasses of wine.

"Was something troubling Miss Giles this evening?" he asked as he
handed one of the glasses to Willow and sat down beside her. "She
seemed very quiet during dinner, and then the two of you were out on
the balcony for quite some time."

"Oh. No, it was just--" the redhead considered fabricating an excuse,
but thought better of it. "If you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss
it."

"Of course not," he smiled. "Anyway, she’d brightened up considerably
by the time you two stepped back into the parlor. Is she always so
forward?"

"Forward?" the redhead frowned. "I think you misinterpreted her
intentions. She’s just very--friendly. I suppose it comes naturally.
She’s a beautiful woman. Any man with eyes to see would be drawn to
her."

"You’ve gotten quite used to that, haven’t you?" he surmised.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Stepping neatly under her shadow," he explained. "Or has she purposely
placed you there in order to eclipse you?"

"That’s very unfair," she shook her head. "She was only trying to make
you feel welcome."

Spike grinned warmly at her, "Oh, come now. You aren’t that unaware.
The woman is a flirt."

"All right. I suppose she is," Willow laughed softly. "But it's all
very innocent. She means no harm. And she’s very unhappy."

"Why is that?"

"Well--I--"

"Ah, that’s part of your secret," he concluded upon noting the frown on
her face.

"It isn’t exactly a secret. Or it won’t be for much longer. She just
didn’t--" Willow sighed and set her glass aside to turn and look at
him. "William, you won’t say anything, will you?"

"Pet, anything you tell me will be kept in confidence, but you don’t
have to explain if you don’t want to or if you think you shouldn’t."

"I shouldn’t," she responded. "I promised. But it would help so much to
tell someone--to tell you. And I can trust you, can’t I?"

"Always," he answered softly, taking her hand gently in his.

She nodded and looked up into his striking blue eyes, "Joshua wasn’t
called away on business at the last moment. That isn’t why he didn’t
atttend dinner tonight."

He kept his eyes fixed on her and remained silent, squeezing her hand
lightly to prompt her to continue.

"He’s gone, William. He left London last night," she said. "With a
woman--"

He arched an eyebrow in mock surprise, "You mean--*that* woman?"

"Well, one can only assume. But it hardly seems likely that it could be
another, does it?" she answered.

"Did you tell her what we saw?"

She nodded, "I felt I had to. Joshua sent her a letter to tell her he’d
gone, and she so desperately wanted to believe it was just a hideous
prank. I feel so badly for her. She’s so hurt. After all these
months--"

"She’s been wasting her time and affections on him," Spike concluded.

"I’m afraid it so. I won’t say I didn’t like Joshua. I did, in a way,
but I always worried that he would eventually cause her pain. I mean, I
can understand why she found him so attractive. He’s very handsome and
wonderful at making mindless conversation. He’s great fun, but how long
could that have lasted before it began to wear thin? I think he’s
actually done her a favor, even if that wasn’t his real intention. Of
course, I’d never say such a thing to her; she thinks she’s in love
with him. She’s too caught up in her pain to see it right now. Buffy
may be a flirt, but she’s far from immoral. And the way she behaved
when she was talking to you--before Cordy interrupted--suggests to me
that she doesn’t feel as deeply for Joshua as she’s convinced herself
that she does."

Spike couldn’t help grinning slightly at the unmistakable tone of
jealousy in Willow’s voice.

The redhead blushed, feeling as though she’d given something away but
not quite knowing what it was, and quickly continued, "If Buffy could
meet the right sort of man, perhaps she’d be able to admit to herself
she hasn’t really lost so very much after all. She might even discover
that what she felt for Joshua wasn’t really love. Not that sort of
love,
anyway."

"Well, then, perhaps I should introduce Miss Giles to the gentleman
who’s staying with me," he said. "He’s been known to turn more than one
young woman’s head."

Willow rolled her eyes, "Just what Buffy needs, another cad."

He arched an eyebrow, "Did I say that?"

"Well, no. But--"

"I only meant that the ladies seem to be taken with him. I wasn’t
implying that his reputation is lacking," the vampire lied through his
teeth. "On the contrary, he tends to keep himself to himself. He’s a
very--loyal sort, really."

"I’m sorry," the redhead spoke softly. "After the way I accused *you*
of judging too quickly--"

"Never mind," he grinned and raised her hand to his lips. "I admire you
for wanting to protect your friend. She’s obviously upset about this
man she’s--"

"Been pursuing," Willow chuckled. "I mean that affectionately. I don’t
think Buffy even realizes what she’s doing."

Spike tended to doubt that statement but wisely chose not to say so.

"Unfortunately, her tenacity in chasing her quarry has ended up hurting
her terribly this time," she continued before pausing in silent thought
for a moment. "This friend of yours. He’s--kind?"

"To a fault," the vampire laughed to himself as he imagined his sire’s
reaction were he to overhear that remark.

"It might be good for Buffy to meet someone who could--take her mind
off of Joshua. Do you think we could arrange something? Would your
friend agree to that?"

"I think he could be persuaded," Spike nodded. "Leave it to me, luv."
 
 

PART 10
"Buffy?" Willow spoke softly as she approached her friend from across
the garden.

The young woman turned, her cheeks dry but still stained with the
evidence of recent tears that soaked through her voice as she reached
out for Willow’s hand, " It’s all over London this morning. Everyone
must know by now. Cordy stopped by earlier, but I-I couldn’t talk to
her about it."

"I’m so sorry, Buffy--"

"How could he do it?" she whispered in agonized sorrow. "How could he
just go off with another woman? I don’t even know who she is. Not that
it matters, it’s just that--"

"I know," Willow nodded. "I know how deeply you cared for him, Buffy.
He certainly wasn’t worthy of your regard for him, nor is he worthy of
your grief, now...Oh! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said--"

"No, you’re right. I only wish I had realized that months ago," the
young blonde sighed. "Oh, Will, what am I going to do? How am I ever
going to face everyone now?"

"No one is going to think poorly of you," her friend assured her. "The
gossip will be painful for awhile, but you must know that all of your
friends’ sympathies are with you. They all understand the position in
which Joshua has placed you."

Buffy gave her a teary smile, "Thank you. That helps. A little. And
arranging this dinner party will at least help keep my mind occupied."

"Yes," Willow agreed. "Is there anything I can do to help? I could
prepare the invitations, or--"

"No, thank you. I wouldn’t be very good company just now."

The redhead smiled softly, "You don’t have to be good company. It’s
only me, you know."

"I do," Buffy nodded. "And I love you for that, but I think I just need
some time alone. I’ll be all right, honestly."

Willow squeezed her hand, "Very well, if you’re sure. I’ll stop back
later, and we can have a good cry together if you like."

"Yes, I would like that." Buffy replied softly. "Sometimes, I wish I’d
never met Joshua Braddock. Was it only an innocent flirtation, Will?
Was there really nothing more than that to what we had? We had happy
times together--lots of those--but he never even broached the
possibility of a proposal, did he? Perhaps I had only fooled myself
into thinking it was something more because I--"

"Buffy, don’t--"

"I’m can’t help myself," she sniffled. "My mind just goes over and over
it. How am I ever going to keep my sanity between now and the dinner?
It’s just all so horribly embarrassing! How do I look my guests in the
eye and smile and pretend that he hasn’t made a complete fool of me?
How do I chat and laugh and joke with them and pretend that none of
this matters? That’s what I want, Will. I want it not to matter. I want
to meet someone who will make me forget that Joshua ever existed. I
want it all to just--go away."

Willow reached for her, but the young woman shook her head and turned
on her heel to flee to the privacy of the house. The redhead sighed
heavily and slowly made her way back toward the street.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow hesitated on the steps of the Belgravia mansion and wondered if
she were acting too impulsively. Buffy’s tear-streaked face returned to
her mind’s eye, and she shored up her resolve and reached for the bell.
A moment later, the front door swung open to reveal the tall, imposing
form of a butler. The man stood just back from the sunshine that
spilled
over the threshold as the little redhead craned her neck to look up at
him.

She held out a small card as she smiled nervously, "I should like to
speak with Mr. Randall, if he’s in."

The vampire read the name on the card and motioned her in from the sun
before taking it from her, "If you’ll wait in the morning room, Miss
Rosenberg."

She nodded and followed him across the foyer, and he ushered her into
the morning room, closing the door behind him as he left her alone.
Willow’s eyes traveled over the tasteful furnishings, and she wondered
that the parlor maid had not yet drawn the heavy drapes that darkened
the room. A fire had been laid up in the fireplace, effectively
dispelling the gloom that would have otherwise overtaken the
comfortable room. She settled herself on the edge of the armchair
closest to the fireplace as, in a bedroom two floors above her, Spike
pulled on his clothes in response to the minion’s announcement that the
little redhead was waiting downstairs.

"Wake Angelus," the vampire ordered as the butler turned toward the
bedroom door, and he grinned as the minion looked back uneasily at his
master. "If you manage to inform him that Miss Rosenberg is here before
he gets his hands wrapped around your throat, you’ll survive. He wants
to meet her. And have some tea sent to the morning room for our guest."

"Yes, sir," the vampire nodded and left the room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"You’ve discovered my secret," Spike spoke as he entered the morning
room, waving her back down onto the settee as she began to rise.

"I beg your pardon?" she responded, bewildered.

"I despise the morning," he smiled. "I always have. Damned cheerful
sun."

"Oh," she laughed as he sat down across from her. "I hope you don’t
mind that I’ve dropped by so unexpectedly."

"Of course not," he grinned. "I may choose to sleep until dinner time,
but I do realize that the rest of the world is shuffling around out
there. And your company is always most welcome."

The conversation paused as a pretty young woman entered with a tea tray
which she placed on a side table while she retrieved the butler’s table
from the opposite side of the room. She placed the table in front of
the settee and repositioned the tea tray atop it.

"I don’t mind pouring," Willow offered as the maid bent to fill one of
the cups.

The female vampire cast a quick glance at Spike, and he nodded a silent
dismissal. His eyes caught the quick flicker of sadness that passed
over Willow’s face as she filled two cups and handed one of them to
him.

"Something’s bothering you," he said, taking the cup and immediately
setting it aside. "Is it your friend, Miss Giles?"

She took a careful sip of the hot beverage and nibbled on her lip as
she stared down into the cup in her hand.

"Tell me," he asked softly.

A small smile curled her lips, "I’m afraid you’ll think I’ve only come
here to--"

"Willow, whatever it is, I’ll help if I can. I’m glad you thought of
coming to me."

She nodded and lifted her eyes to his, "It’s Buffy--she’s--everything
is just so--she’s having such a difficult time. I’ve never seen her so
upset."

"You called on her," he guessed.

"Yes, just a little while ago," Willow nodded. "I wanted so desperately
to make her feel better, but she’s just so embarrassed by all of this.
And it all seems so--unnecessary--to me."

"Unnecessary?" he repeated, not understanding.

She lowered her eyes, "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m upset
for her sake."

"If course you are," he smiled and moved around to sit close to her. "I
thought we agreed you could tell me anything."

She shook her head, "I don’t want to sound unkind."

"Why would I think that? Miss Giles is your friend; you care about
her," he laid his hand gently over hers and brushed his fingers lightly
over the back of her hand. "You can talk to me. I promise that I’ll
understand."

"Thank you," Willow smiled slightly and took a breath before meeting
his eyes. "I know Buffy believes she loved Joshua, but I’ve never been
convinced that she truly did. He didn’t so much romance her heart as he
did sweep her off her feet. I know I said, last night, that she’d been
pursuing him, but he’d done his share of pursuing, as well. I’ve known
Buffy since we were children. I always thought part of the reason she
seemed interested in Joshua was because her father liked him so well.
Buffy and Joshua had fun in each other’s company. They laughed
together, went all sorts of places together, but I can’t ever recall
seeing them actually being serious with one another. And he didn’t even
have the decency to face Buffy personally. What sort of man just runs
off like that with nothing more than a note to the person who would be
most affected by it?"

"A coward," Spike suggested.

"At the very least, and--I’m sorry to say--typical of Joshua," she
nodded. "I don’t want to diminish the extent of her pain, but I think
Buffy’s more hurt by the situation he’s placed her in than she is by
the fact that he’s run off. I don’t think she even realized what she
was
saying, but she said she wished someone would come along and make her
forget all abut Joshua. I believe that, on some level, she knows she
didn’t really love him--not the way one loves a man to whom one wishes
to become betrothed."

"They don’t sound like the words of a woman who’s just lost the love of
her life," the vampire agreed.

She looked away from him uneasily, "Actually, that statement was what
really put it in my mind to come over here. I mean, I realize we’ve
only known each other a short time...but...I...it feels like...much
longer, and...we had sort of discussed it...so...I thought...you...I
mean...we..."

Spike caressed her chin with his fingertips and turned her face back to
his, "What can I do to help?"

A delicate pink blush warmed her cheeks, "I don’t want you to feel as
though you’re obligated in some way to--"

He smiled and let his hand drift down her arm to grasp her hand in his
own, "Willow, luv, you only have to ask. I’ll do anything I can."

She sighed softly and, much to his surprised delight, impulsively moved
a little closer to him, "I thought, maybe, the two of us could help
her--get over this dreadful business."

"Ah," he arched an understanding eyebrow. "My friend--"

"Yes," she nodded. "If he’s really as respectable as you make him
seem."

"I assure you he is. I’ve known him for years, pet."

"Do you think he would agree to meet her--soon?" Willow asked
hopefully. "After we’ve explained the situation, of course. I wouldn’t
want to mislead him or ask him to become involved in anything he might
find distasteful. Oh, my. This is all sounding terribly underhanded,
isn’t it?"

"Not at all," he contended. "You wish to ease your friend’s
unhappiness. That’s perfectly understandable. And it would hardly be
underhanded if we’re straightforward with both of them."

"You do understand, don’t you?" her eyes glimmered up at him.

"Of course I do," he smiled, cupping her cheek with is free hand. "I
hate seeing you miserable, even if it is only on your friend’s behalf.
We’ll speak to my friend and explain the situation to him. He has a
very big heart. I feel certain he’d want to help out a young woman
who’s been the victim of such an unpleasant ordeal."

"Thank you, William," she said softly.

He took her hands and brushed his lips gently against each of them
before leaning forward to take her mouth in a tender kiss. His tongue
parted her lips, deepening the kiss, and Willow felt the not unpleasant
sensation of melting into him as her hand traveled up to lay lightly
against the back of the vampire's neck. She had never experienced these
feelings with anyone else in her young life, and while she found it all
a bit confusing, she quickly decided it was a nice sort of confusion.
Her body trembled, and her face was slightly flushed when he finally
drew away with a fleeting nibble on her lower lip. Willow’s eyes
followed his as the morning room door opened, and Spike’s sire entered
the room and looked with unguarded interest at his childe and the
beautiful redhead seated so closely beside him.
 
 

PART 11
"Angelus," Spike stood, and Willow rose beside him. "This is Miss
Rosenberg."

"I assumed as much," the tall vampire grinned and looked at Willow.
"It’s a pleasure to meet you. You aren’t at all what I expected."

"I’m not?" the redhead asked curiously.

"William has a talent for exaggeration when it comes to women. In your
case, his plaudits were entirely understated."

Willow blushed and turned amused eyes from the dark vampire to his
childe, "You *have* known each other a long time. You even sound
alike."

"And she’s modest, as well," Angelus grinned.

"Infuriatingly so," William nodded.

She shifted uncomfortably, and he chuckled and drew her back down onto
the settee as Angelus took the armchair his childe had previously
vacated.

"May I?" the redhead offered, reaching for the third cup on the tea
tray.

"No, thank you," he refused, to which she nodded and sat back beside
Spike.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" Angelus inquired with a
good-natured grin. "After all, William is hardly an inviting companion
so early in the day."

"I respectfully disagree," Willow contradicted casually.

"What have you done to this misguided woman?" the vampire asked his
childe.

Spike chuckled, "She’s blind, poor dear."

"I’m afraid I did have a rather self-serving motive for coming here,"
Willow admitted with palpable embarrassment. "Actually, I’ve come to
ask William--or to be more precise--to ask *you* for help."

"Indeed?" Angelus asked with interest.

She hesitated, not quite sure how to explain herself to this stranger,
and looked desperately at the blonde vampire beside her. He smiled at
her and took her hand reassuringly.

"Willow has a friend--Belinda Giles--who has had a rather unfortunate
falling-out with a young man she cared for quite deeply."

Angelus’ eyes clouded in feigned confusion, "Forgive me. I don’t quite
understand what that has to do with--"

Willow looked down at the hand clasped in Spike’s, missing the amused
glance that passed between the two vampires.

"I know. I’m sorry. I hardly know how to ask this of you. Heaven knows,
I have no right to do so. Common decency wouldn’t even allow me to be
so presumptuous. Unfortunately, common decency and my actions are often
at odds. Which is why, more often than not, I find myself in situations
such as...this," she muttered more to herself than to her two
companions.

Angelus laughed out loud at the redhead’s refreshing candor, "Well, I
do hope you’ll tell me what this is about. You’ve certainly peaked my
curiosity."

She grinned at the his heartening response and looked over at him once
again, "You see, it’s just that Buffy is such a dear friend. I care for
her like a sister, and it’s terribly wrenching to see her so
heartbroken. So, William...well, actually, I..."

"It’s all right, luv," William grinned. "You can pull me in with you. I
don’t mind mucking about at your side."

Her lips curled into a smile of gratitude, and she continued, "We
thought that, perhaps, if you would agree to such a proposition, that
you could...sort of...."

"Provide the young woman with a diversion from her misery," Angelus
guessed.

Well, yes," she nodded as a scarlet flush once again graced her cheeks.
"I know this is unforgivably forward of me. Not that that is unusual in
itself. I seem to have made something of an avocation of being forward,
much to my family and friends’ dismay. But I do believe that this is
the farthest forward I’ve ever been."

The dark vampire couldn’t help laughing again, and Willow relaxed
slightly as she realized he wasn’t totally disgusted by her behavior.

"I think you would find Buffy’s company to be agreeable," she continued
under his encouraging smile. "She’s a very warm person, and she’s very
pretty. And I would, of course, explain everything to her so she would
know that we--"

"Would dinner tonight--at Holborn’s, perhaps--be acceptable?" Angelus
suggested.

"Oh!" her eyes brightened happily. "Yes. That would be--wonderful.
Thank you so much, Mr.--"

"Angelus will do nicely," he told her. "But are you sure that Miss
Giles will accept?"

"I’m sure I can persuade her. I know Buffy isn’t eager to spend any
more time all alone in that house than she must. And, in the present
circumstances, only her closest of friends will be calling on her. The
others will stay awhile under the guise of allowing her privacy while
her broken heart mends. Personally, I think that’s just a heartless
excuse to save them the trouble of attempting to comfort someone in
pain. They’re just--" Willow stopped mid-ramble and looked from Spike
to Angelus. "I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m sorry."

"Don’t be," Angelus grinned. "It’s endearing."

"Or maddening, depending on who you ask," she laughed softly. "All I
really mean to say is that I’m sure Buffy will welcome the opportunity
to get out for a few hours."

"Very well, then," the dark vampire nodded.

"We’ll call for you in my carriage, and you can direct us to the Giles’
estate. Eight o’clock, shall we say?" Spike suggested. "Or would that
be improper?"

"Oh, I’ve never worried about ‘improper,’" Willow shrugged, eliciting
another smile from Angelus. "Thank you so much. Both of you."

With a quick glance at his sire, Spike took her arm and ushered Willow
out of the morning room and to the front door. She turned to look up at
him as he reached for the doorknob.

"Thank you, William. I know this will be a tonic for Buffy."

"I’m sure you’re right," he nodded and bent to kiss her briefly and was
pleased when she immediately returned the soft kiss. "I’ll see you at
eight o’clock."

She nodded and flashed him a warm smile, and Angelus appeared in the
morning room doorway as Willow exited the mansion.

"Perfect," the vampire stated as his childe turned to face him. "This
will give me nearly a week to charm Belinda Giles before her father
returns. She’ll be comfortable with me, and Willow will be able to
vouch for my--reputation--should Rupert Giles voice any concerns."

"I hope the reality will be as easy as your ideal," Spike responded.
"The slayer has been under the sole influence of her sanctimonious
father for years."

He shrugged casually, "She’s a beautiful woman enduring the agony of
heartbreak. I couldn’t ask for an easier target. And as for your
redhead--"

"I’m keeping her," Spike informed him, his voice firm and his eyes
darkened.

"I should think so," his sire readily agreed. "You’d be a fool to let
that treasure slip through your fingers. And a fool, my boy, is one
thing you have never been."

"I won’t share her, Angelus."

"I meant what I said before; I won’t ask you to. You’re a master in
your own right, Spike. Besides, it’s her dear Buffy that I’m interested
in. Willow is yours, and only yours," Angelus promised and grimaced as
he glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. "Gods below, these humans
do enjoy traipsing about during all hours of the day. I’m going back to
bed."

From her hidden perch just around the landing at the top of the stairs,
Drusilla scowled unhappily and quickly darted back down the corridor
before Angelus discovered her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"I’m not certain this is such a good idea, Will," Buffy said softly as
she turned from the window.

"Why not?" the redhead asked. "You’ve been alone in this house all day.
You need to--"

"It’s much too soon," she shook her head. "What will people think if
I’m seen out with another man less than twenty-four hours after Joshua
has--left me?"

"They aren’t going to think anything. Well, except perhaps, ‘Good for
her.’" Willow assured her. "After all, you said yourself that Joshua
hadn’t even proposed to you."

"Near enough, in everyone else’s minds," the young blonde sighed sadly.
"And he would have done, if I’d had my way. I suppose I should be
thankful for that small mercy."

"Buffy, Joshua’s treatment of you is beyond reprehensible, and everyone
knows it. You’ve spent hours crying over him, and I know there are far
more to come, even though he isn’t worth it. You need to catch your
breath, if only for a few hours."

"But I don’t even know this man."

"Does that make a difference? You knew Joshua for years, and--" Willow
stifled her words at the pain that flickered across her friend’s face.
"I’m sorry. That was hurtful."

"The truth often is," Buffy smiled sadly. "Perhaps you’re right.
Perhaps a couple of hours of light conversation over dinner would do me
good."

"Then you accept?"

"Yes. I think so," she nodded. "But does this man know about--what’s
happened? I mean, I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong impression
about my accepting--"

"He won’t. I didn’t go into all of the details, of course, but I did
give him a brief explanation of what’s happened," Willow answered. "I
think you’ll enjoy his company, Buffy. Granted, I don’t know him well,
but he seems very easy to talk to, and William obviously holds him in
great regard."

"The two of your are getting on very well, aren’t you?" Buffy smiled in
earnest at the realization. "I’m happy for you, Will. You’ve certainly
had to wait far longer than is fair for any human."

"That’s largely my own fault, as I’ve so frequently been told. I do
tend to frighten them away rather quickly, don’t I?" the redhead
grinned.

"Mr. Randall doesn’t seem to be in the list bit frightened."

"Causes one to wonder about his mental stability, don’t you think?
Perhaps I should check with Bedlam and find out whether he’s ever been
registered there," the redhead frowned, pretending to give the idea
serious consideration

"Oh, Will," Buffy giggled and turned to embrace her. "Whatever would I
do without you?"

"Now, there’s a question I think we can safely assume has been asked
many times over, by many, many people," she laughed, relieved to see
her friend smiling again.
 
 

PART 12
Angelus watched Buffy as she picked at the food on the plate in front
of her, "Is it not to your liking?"

"Excuse me?" the young blonde’s eyes darted up to meet his.

"Shall I have the waiter bring you something else?" he offered
indicating the untouched meal.

"Oh, no. It’s fine. I just--don’t seem to have much of an appetite."
She laid her fork aside and smiled apologetically at him, "I’m sorry;
I’m rather poor company this evening. You must be regretting having
been dragged into this charade."

"Not at all," he shook his head. "And I hope it isn’t a charade."

She cast a glance at Willow and Spike, who were engrossed in their own
softly-spoken conversation, "But Willow did tell you--"

"Of your unfortunate situation," Angelus nodded. "Yes, she did. I must
say, that young man must be a fool to have walked away from someone so
lovely."

"I’m not sure which of us is the fool," she replied with a sad smile.
"It isn’t as if I weren’t aware of Joshua’s reputation. But I thought I
meant--something more--than that to him."

"May I be so bold as to comment that the loss is solely his?" the
vampire responded.

"Thank you," she nodded graciously. "Though I’m not sure I agree with
the sentiment. "Mr.--"

"Angelus, please."

"Very well. Angelus, may I ask you a personal question?"

"By all means."

"Have you ever lost someone you loved?" she inquired.

"Yes," he nodded as the drained corpses of his long-dead family
flickered through his mind. "But I eventually came to realize that the
loss was no tragedy."

She looked over at him, surprised by his statement, and he smiled and
reached for his wine glass.

"I suppose it’s a matter of perception--or perspective, if you like,"
he continued. "We don’t always love wisely. There are people who are
not worthy of that level of devotion. It is possible to think you love
someone who is, after all, nothing more than a well-cloaked enemy."

"That’s very cold," she murmured, unsettled by his remark.

"It’s the nature of humans," he shrugged. "You’re beautiful, Miss
Giles. You must have your pick of dozens of suitors. What made this
particular young man so attractive to you? A well-timed sense of humor?
A gift for flattery, for conversation? Surely, those qualities can be
found in countless others. You said yourself that you were aware of his
reputation. Had his actions changed after he met you?

"Well, no," she admitted reluctantly. "Not exactly."

"So, what qualities existed within his character that so eclipsed his
perfidy that you chose to love him in spite of a such a grave flaw? Was
he unusually loyal? That sort rarely is. Was he generous? Intelligent?
What drew you to him in spite of his apparent lack of devotion to you?
"

Buffy was visibly rattled by his insight and by the unwavering dark
eyes pinned on hers as if they could bore down into the very depths of
her soul, "I--I don’t--"

The couple beside them had grown silent under his soft interrogation,
and Spike glanced at his sire, his eyes dancing with something very
much like amusement.

"Angelus, are you badgering the young woman?" he asked. "She is the
victim of a broken heart, after all."

"No," Buffy stopped him, her face slightly flushed. "It’s all right,
really. I hadn’t quite--considered my situation that way. I appreciate
your acumen, Mr.--Angelus."

Spike’s eyes met Willow’s, and she grinned, "Sometimes, the insights of
a stranger can be far more meaningful than those from whom we know
well."

"So it seems," Buffy agreed with a nod and looked back at Angelus.
"Thank you. I think I needed to hear those things."

"I’m afraid my motives are entirely selfish," he smiled.

She shook her head, confused by the confession, "Selfish?"

"I’m loathe to see such a lovely creature so very unhappy, especially
when the cause of that unhappiness seems so utterly undeserving," he
explained. "And I’d like to hope that you won’t always regard me as a
stranger."

"I should like that, as well," she smiled warmly over at him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"It’s going to get cold," Willow warned her friend as Buffy stared at
the wall opposite her, lost in thought.

"Hmmm?" the blonde murmured absent-mindedly.

"Your tea," Willow grinned. "It’s growing cold. Where are you this
morning, anyway?"

"I don’t know, really," Buffy admitted. "I’ve been thinking about what
Angelus said over dinner last night."

"Have you? And what have you concluded?"

"That perhaps he’s right," she sighed. "Perhaps I only convinced myself
that I loved Joshua when in truth I was merely in love with the idea of
being in love. Perhaps I thought I wanted him because I knew I couldn’t
have him."

"Trying to obtain the unobtainable," Willow suggested.

"Something like that," Buffy nodded. "I did enjoy Joshua’s company, but
he had no difficulty redirecting his attention toward any other woman
who happened to distract him. And as much as I would like not to do so,
I must admit that what Angelus said is true. Joshua really possesses no
qualities which redeem the rather gaping flaws in his character.
Perhaps I never really loved him at all--not in the way a woman ought
to love a man to whom she hopes to wed. I’ve rather wasted the past
several months, haven’t I? Not to mention having made a fool of myself
in the process."

"You have not made a fool of yourself," Willow insisted firmly. "Joshua
is the fool in all of this. You’re so much better off with him out of
your life."

"I think I’m beginning to recognize that," Buffy agreed with a little
smile. "Will, I’m so glad you persuaded me to dine with you last night.
Angelus really did help me to look at this whole disaster in a way
which I was not inclined to do. And I’m not certain I would have heard
those words had they come from a friend’s lips."

"He does seem to have an uncanny grasp of human motivation," the
redhead remarked. "Not to mention the audacity to state his perceptions
with painful clarity."

"I’ve the nagging suspicion that his mind works on a plane far
different than my own," she admitted sheepishly. "There’s just
something very--different--about him. I can’t quite describe it,
really. It’s the same sort of impression that I got when I met Miss
Randall and her brother. Whatever it is, I find Angelus to be a most
intriguing man."

Willow’s green eyes sparkled impishly, "Belinda Giles, if I didn’t know
better, I’d think you were taken with him."

"Oh, no," she giggled. "I hardly know the man, and I’m certainly not
ready to trek blindly down that rocky path again."

"Not yet, anyway," Willow laughed. "But are you at least hoping to see
Angelus again?"

"Actually, I know I am," she smiled. "After dinner, when we were
walking out to the carriage, he asked if he might call on me early this
evening."

"Buffy! That’s wonderful."

"Do you think so? You aren’t afraid everyone will talk?"

"Everyone knows exactly what sort of man Joshua Braddock is. They’ll
admire you for picking yourself up and moving on," Willow told her.
"And there’s nothing untoward about a gentleman visiting you in your
own home. After all, you’ve a half dozen servants running about."

"That’s what I thought, as well," Buffy nodded. "I thought I might
invite him to my dinner party on Friday. Do you think it would be
improper of me to invite him after only just having met him? Do you
think he would accept?"

"Sounds perfectly respectable to me," she nodded. "And I can’t imagine
that he wouldn’t be delighted to accept. He seemed very attentive to
you last night."

"Then again, I left him little choice, the way I babbled on about my
misfortune," she replied.

"You are far too hard on yourself," Willow reprimanded her. "Simply
include him in the invitation you were planning on delivering to
William. I’m sure Angelus will accept."

"All right, I will," Buffy agreed. "Have I thanked you for dragging me
along with you last night?"

"Several times," she smiled. "And if it helped you to feel better about
all of this, that’s thanks enough for me."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Last night went well," Spike remarked to his sire as they prepared to
leave the Belgravia mansion.

"Very well," Angelus agreed. "Amazing how easy it is to salve one’s
self over a wounded heart. You’re off to call on your redhead?"

Spike nodded, "Care to catch a quick bite before we part company?"

"Yes," he agreed as his childe opened the front door. "Keep Willow
occupied this evening. I don’t want her suddenly interrupting my
unheart-to-heart with Miss Giles. I want to pry a little personal
information out her. By the way, where’s Dru? I haven’t seen her all
evening."

"She’s probably hunting. She left a little while ago," Spike answered.
"She’s gone awfully quiet, Angelus. It makes me wonder what’s going on
in that twisted mind of hers."

"You aren’t the only one, boy," Angelus nodded. "I’ll have a talk with
her when I get back later tonight."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Buffy is planning on inviting Angelus to her dinner party," Willow
said as she lead Spike into the sitting room. "Do you think he’ll
accept?"

""I’m sure he will," the blonde vampire smiled. "She seems to have made
quite an impression on him. Do you think Miss Giles is over her young
man, then?".

"Well, no," she answered. "I found her in tears, again, when I stopped
by this morning. But I know she enjoyed Angelus’ company last evening,
and his attentiveness seems to have helped take her mind off of her
troubles, at least temporarily. I’m so glad he’s calling on her this
evening. It must be difficult, rambling around in that big house with
her father away."

"You told me that she and her father are close, didn’t you?"

"Yes," Willow nodded. "He’ll be upset when he finds out he wasn’t here
for her when Joshua left."

"Did he approve of Braddock?" Spike asked.

"He did, and I have to admit that always surprised me. He’s fully aware
of Joshua’s--reputation. I mean, everyone in London knows what sort of
man he is. But Mr. Giles never spoke disparagingly of him. In fact,
just the opposite. Sometimes, it seemed to me that he pushed for the
two of them to become engaged even more than Buffy did. I could never
quite understand it."

"Perhaps it was just a matter of knowing how much Miss Giles wanted it
and wanting the same thing because he thought it would make her happy,"
he suggested.

"But did he honestly think that Joshua would have *kept* her happy?"
Willow wondered. "Mr. Giles is an intelligent man. He must have known
better than that."

"Well, perhaps he planned on providing Braddock with an incentive to
change his ways after he and Miss Giles were wed."

"Incentive? You mean--bribery?" Willow asked in surprise.

"It’s been done before," the vampire shrugged.

"I suppose so. But I can’t imagine her father ever--" Willow sighed and
let the argument drop. "Well, it doesn’t matter much anymore, does it?"

"No," he smiled. "And to tell you the truth, I’m tired of this
conversation."

"You’re bored with me already, Mr. Randall?" the redhead teased
playfully.

He grinned and shook his head and pulled her close to him, "I’m just
bored with talking."

"William!" she squeaked as his arms went around her and his lips
brushed against hers.

"Don’t try to tell me you don’t want me to kiss you because I won’t
believe it," he stated softly.

Willow blushed bright red and tried, unsuccessfully, to pull away from
him, "That isn’t the point! The servants--"

He snuck a look around the room, "I don’t see any servants."

"Well, they’re here!" she argued as he drew her even closer to him.

"Well, they aren’t here now," he chuckled before capturing her mouth
with his own.

He nipped at her lips and parted them with his own, and his tongue
darted inside her mouth. Willow clutched at him nervously. Such an
intensely passionate embrace was foreign to her. Over the course of her
young life, she had been graced by the occasional gently fleeting peck
across the cheek or lips, but the redhead had certainly never been
kissed like this before. His lips were cool and firm against hers, his
tongue wet and demanding as it explored her sweet mouth.

Willow’s mind was spinning with a hundred unfamiliar sensations, her
heart pounding rapidly at the deliciously intense emotions that swept
through her. Spike’s muscular arms tightened around her as he deepened
the kiss, though she hardly thought that would have been possible. Of
their own accord, her arms moved around him, her hand gently resting
against the silky hairs on the nape of his neck.

At last, he pulled away and placed one more soft kiss against her lips
before drawing her head down to rest against his chest as he held her
firmly against him, and he rested his head atop of hers. One hand
stroked her back soothingly as she nestled close to him, and he held
her in silence as her reeling mind began to calm to the certain
realization that she couldn’t think of any place she’d rather be than
here, in his arms.
 
 

PART 13
"That must have been difficult for you, growing up without your
mother," Angelus remarked after Buffy had related the circumstances
under which her mother had died.

"Not terribly," the young blonde replied. "I was only four months old,
so I’d hardly remember her, would I? And my father has always been so
caring and devoted. I’m sure some would say that he’s doted on me to
the point of spoiling me, but he hasn’t, you know. I’ve never taken him
for granted."

"You must have been a great comfort to him after losing his wife so
suddenly," the vampire said.

Her brow furled for a moment, "I suppose so. He never talks about her."

"But you must have asked him all sorts of questions about her, surely.
A young woman who never had the opportunity to know her mother--"

"I used to," she nodded. "But he was so--reluctant--to discuss her. I
never pressed the issue for fear of causing him pain."

"And you’ve no reminders of her? No portraits, no mementos--a locket, a
wedding band?"

She shook her head, "Nothing, well nothing that my father has ever
shown me, anyway. He acquired this house before my mother died, but
I’ve never seen anything here that was hers."

"You don’t find that strange?"

"I’d never thought about it before," she answered. "They were in
Wales--father had an estate there--when she delivered me. She grew ill
and passed away there."

"Had?" he repeated. "Did he sell it?"

"I don’t know. We moved from Wales to London when I was a baby, and
we’ve never returned. I remember nothing of our time in Wales."

She grew silent, and the vampire watched her closely before saying
softly, "I can’t imagine how confusing that must be for you."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Not knowing," he explained. "You’ve never returned to the place where
you were born, where your father lost his wife and you lost your
mother. You don’t even know if the estate in Wales is still in Mr.
Giles’ possession--filled with memories and reminders of her. How many
times have you wondered about her? Did she look like you? What sort of
things brought her pleasure? Did your father bring her gifts after his
travels--trinkets that she cherished because they were from him?"

"I--" Buffy faltered, swallowing back long-suppressed sadness. "I try
not to dwell on it. I never raise those questions with Daddy, but yes,
I have wondered--do wonder."

An idea was beginning to take form in the vampire’s mind, but he kept
his thoughts from being mirrored in his expression and turned the
conversation away from the present topic, "Forgive me. I didn’t mean to
dwell on something that’s clearly unpleasant for you to--"

"No," she interrupted. "I’m really quite grateful to you. I never speak
about these things with anyone. I’ve always just had--I don’t know, the
impression I suppose--that it’s better to keep those thoughts to
myself. I used to ask such things of my father, but it was clearly so
uncomfortable for him that I quickly learned just to leave it alone.
It’s nice to be able to speak to someone about it. Maybe, someday, I’ll
find some of the answers."

"I hope so, for your sake," Angelus nodded, then smiled pleasantly.
"William and I received your invitation to dinner."

"I hope you weren’t offended that I included you," she said.

"Offended? Of course not."

"Then you’ll come?" she asked hopefully.

"It never even occurred to me to refuse," he grinned.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"The slayer’s mother died in Wales, not London," Spike stated after
Angelus had recounted the evening’s conversation with Buffy.

"Which explains why he wasn’t a visible member of the council while
they were in Ireland, though he’s been here since shortly after she
died. I wonder what happened to the estate in Wales and why Rupert
Giles is so loathe to return there," his sire responded.

Drusilla, who has been sitting in a chair across from him, clutched the
doll in her hands and stared into the blazing fireplace. Angelus looked
pointedly over at her, sensing a sudden tenseness in his beautiful
childe.

"Dru?" he asked.

Her eyes remained fixed on the fire.

"Drusilla," he spoke more insistently. "What are you thinking?"

"I hate this place," she murmured angrily. "I hate this house. I hate
London. And I hate that slayer."

Refusing to be baited away from his suspicions, he rose and went over
to look down at her, "What do you know about Wales?"

"I know nothing," she spat, refusing to meet his stare.

He grabbed hold of her arms, and she yelped as he yanked her up onto
her feet, "Would you prefer that I beat it out of you?"

"If it will keep you out of that bitch’s arms!" she hissed. "That’s
what you want, isn’t it? You want--"

He reached out and backhanded her, his grip on her arm the only thing
preventing her from falling to the floor, "Watch your tongue, girl. I
don’t answer to you. What is it about Wales? It’s something to do with
this secret that Giles is keeping from his daughter, isn’t it?"

She struggled to free herself and looked pleadingly over at Spike, "I
don’t like it here. I want to go back to Ireland. Take me back--"

"Dru," Spike spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "The
answers we need are here, in London."

"Or are they?" Angelus asked her. "How is Wales significant?"

Finally managing to yank herself free from his strong hands, she took a
step backward and shoved the doll in his face, "Miss Edith is very
angry with you. She says that you--"

The enraged vampire snatched the doll from her hands, and strode over
to the fireplace, snarling as he prepared to toss it into the flames,
"Your damned Miss Edith is going to be nothing more than ashes and
charred porcelain!"

"No!" Drusilla wailed and clapped her hands over her face. "Please,
Angelus--"

"Angelus," Spike spoke, and his sire lowered the arm holding the doll
and scowled over at his blonde childe before glaring at Dru.

Her shoulders slumped and she dropped bonelessly back into the
armchair, "I don’t know the answers, but you’ll find them in Wales."

He nodded and flung the doll at her, and she scrambled to catch it and
cradled it close to her as she fled the room.

"Is it really necessary to treat her that way?" Spike asked, his blue
eyes following the sobbing form of Drusilla. "You’ve been ignoring her
for days, and when she finally gets your attention, it results in
this?"

"Don’t tell me how to--"

"I’m not," Spike sighed unnecessarily. "But you know how she feels
about you. You can’t blame her for being defensive where Belinda Giles
is concerned. Dru thinks of you as hers and only hers."

"Then she has that the wrong way round, hasn’t she? She knows how
important it is that I gain the slayer’s trust. Dru has no right to
question the methods I chose to implement in order to achieve that
goal," Angelus responded. "Never mind. She’ll be babbling on happily
about tea and cakes in fifteen minutes."

"Just don’t expect to be invited to the party," his childe warned with
a grin.

"I suppose you’re right. I’ll bring her to my bed in the morning and
discipline her properly. You know how my dark-haired goddess loves a
good punishing," the older vampire relented with a chuckle before
turning his thoughts back to the more pressing matter. "We need to get
to Wales."

"You need to be here," Spike argued.

"Yes," Angelus nodded. "But I could spare you for a few days."

"A strange man wandering about a village in Wales and asking for
eighteen-year-old answers? How successful do you reckon *that’s* going
to be?"

His sire paused to think for a moment, "I’m going to suggest to Miss
Rosenberg that her friend is more upset about her well-guarded past
than she’s ever let on. Perhaps Miss Giles and I can persuade Willow to
go to Wales on her friend’s behalf. Your redhead could charm answers
out of a mute."

The blonde vampire looked dubious, and Angelus suspected it had nothing
to do with Willow’s abilities to "charm."

He laughed softly, "You can do without her for a couple of days."

"Like bloody hell," Spike grumbled. "If you’re going to persuade Willow
to travel to Wales, I’m going to persuade her that I ought to go with
her."

Angelus nodded, immediately warming to the proposition, "I’ll suggest
the idea during Miss Giles’ dinner party on Friday. You’ll have
‘business’ to attend to, and of course there will be packing to do, so
you and Willow won’t be able to start for Wales any earlier than
Saturday evening."

"You want Willow away from London when Rupert Giles returns?" the
blonde vampire inquired.

Yes. That way, there will be no possibility of Giles finding out what
you’re up to beforehand and having the opportunity to persuade Willow
against it. I’m sure I can make Miss Giles understand that it would be
wiser to tell no one else of our scheme, and she certainly isn’t going
to want her father to know."

"That makes sense," Spike agreed.

"With Willow away for a few days, I can attempt to ingratiate myself to
Rupert Giles," Angelus added, "and have some time alone with Miss Giles
to get to know her more--intimately."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In her room on the third story of the Belgravia mansion, Drusilla set
the tea tray on a little table and sat down in the vacant chair across
from Miss Edith.

The lovely vampire spoke to the doll and poured out the tea, "You’re
right, dearie. I mustn’t let Daddy upset me. We shall keep our minds
open to just the right moment. Then I shall deal with the slayer, and
my Angelus will be *only* mine once again. Just as it should be."
 
 

PART 14
Cordelia watched as Buffy followed the last of the other dinner guests
out to the corridor beyond the parlor door. She said her good-byes and
waited until the butler had ushered them toward the stairs before she
returned to Angelus, who was waiting across the room.

"Willow, he’s incredible," Cordy breathed in the redhead’s ear as she
eyed the tall vampire, who had immediately resumed his quiet
conversation with Buffy. "Wherever do you find these handsome men?"

"I keep a collection of them in my boudoir," Willow quipped.

"Willow! Honestly!" the pretty brunette gasped loudly enough to catch
Xander’s attention from his chair by the fireplace, and she immediately
lowered her voice to a threatening hiss. "You’re--you’re--too
impossible for words!"

Willow giggled at the furious blush on her friend’s face, "I know. You
keep telling me that. Anyway, *I* didn’t find William. You did,
remember?"

"Yes, well," Cordy sputtered and took a soft breath, composing herself.
"I don’t know why I even bother. Anyway, he certainly seems to be
keeping Buffy’s mind off of her--problems."

"That he does," she agreed. "He’s called on her every evening since he
met her."

"Has he?" she responded, obviously pleased. "I think that’s wonderful."

Willow smiled, "So do I. I like him."

"He’s a very...intense...sort of person, though, isn’t he?"

"Buffy and I were saying pretty much the same thing only a couple of
days ago," the redhead nodded.

"But she’s clearly interested in him, and he with--"

"Love," Xander spoke from behind her and placed a gentle hand on her
shoulder, "I think we should be going *before* you start planning a
double wedding ceremony. Otherwise, we’ll be here all night."

Cordelia turned to fix angry eyes on him until she saw the affectionate
grin on his face. She smiled and slipped her hand into his, and he
placed a quick kiss on her forehead before leading her toward the door.
Buffy followed after them, and the two women shared a hug before Xander
and Cordy slipped out of the room.

"I thought, perhaps, you’d like to stay awhile longer," Buffy looked
timidly around to Angelus. "It isn’t so very late, after all, is it?
And I--I’d enjoy the company."

"Thank you," Angelus accepted and gestured toward the liquor cart. "May
I?"

"Yes, please," she smiled gratefully.

Spike guided Willow back to the sofa, and Buffy moved to an armchair
while Angelus poured out four glasses of brandy. He served them around,
then sat down in the chair nearest Buffy’s, and they sat for a moment
before Willow’s amused laughter broke the awkward silence.

"Lovely weather we’ve been having," she affected a snooty voice as
though speaking with strangers.

Buffy giggled and Spike snorted and dropped an arm around the redhead’s
shoulders.

"Dinner was lovely, Buffy," Willow smiled over at her.

"It was, indeed," Angelus agreed. "Thank you for inviting me."

"I must admit that I had reservations," she told him. "You know how
people gossip."

"Ah, Mr. Braddock," he nodded.

"Yes," she replied, a fleeting frown shadowing her pretty face.

"But no one said anything at all," Willow pointed out.

"Well, except for Regina," Buffy reminded her friend.

"Oh, Regina," she repeated the name disdainfully.

"Which one was she?" Spike asked.

"The one with the wiry nest perched atop of her head," Willow told him.
"She insists it’s hair, but I have my suspicions."

"And I suppose you’ve actually asked her," Angelus chuckled.

"Frequently," the little redhead answered with impish delight.

"Still, she was rather scathing," Buffy said dismally.

"Who cares what she thinks?" the redhead remarked. "She’s jealous of
every woman she’s ever met, and she absolutely abhors men. Basically,
she hates the human species as a whole."

"Willow," Buffy rebuked her and cast an uneasy glance at the two men in
the room.

"I’m not being unkind. I’m only stating facts. She’s a shrew."

Spike shook his head in wonder at the outspoken redhead and shared a
thoroughly amused glance with his sire.

"Aside from--Regina--it was a very enjoyable evening," Angelus
reassured his hostess.

"Thank you," Buffy smiled over at him.

"And your father returns tomorrow night, so you won’t feel so alone
here," Willow added.

"Yes. I’m not looking forward to explaining to him what’s happened,"
the young blonde admitted. "He’s going to feel guilty that he wasn’t
here for me."

"Couldn’t you have gotten word to him?" Angelus asked.

"I wouldn’t know how," Buffy shook her head. "He doesn’t always tell me
where his journeys take him."

This little tidbit was something even Willow hadn’t known, and she
shifted slightly forward, frowning in concern, "He left for a week, and
didn’t tell you where he was going?"

"It’s to do with business," she shrugged.

"Even so," her friend argued. "What harm could there possibly be in
letting you know where he is? How could that be such a secret that he
couldn’t even tell his own daughter?"

"You don’t suppose--" Angelus began and then stopped abruptly, as if
uneasy about puttting words to his thoughts.

"What?" Buffy asked him.

He shook his head, "Perhaps I shouldn’t say. It’s only a thought that
popped into my mind. I’ve nothing to base it on, and it’s hardly my
place to questions your father’s movements."

She stared at him for a moment before her eyebrows shot up, "You
mean--you don’t think--Wales?"

The vampire couldn’t bring himself to believe that the watcher was
making semi-regular trips there, but to draw out that very suspicion in
the young woman’s mind would suit his purposes perfectly, "Probably
not. It’s just--well--after what you told me--"

"You think he’s going back to the estate there?" Willow picked up
Angelus’ line of thought. "Why? Why would he do that? And why would he
keep it from Buffy?"

"He never speaks to me of my mother," Buffy told her. "And I do mean
never. But if it’s too painful a subject to even discuss with me, why
would he go back there?"

"Perhaps your mother had family there," Spike suggested.

"No," she whispered. "He would have told me. He’s always said my mother
had no living relatives. He wouldn’t have been traveling there all
these years without telling me, or taking me along with him--would he?"

Her voice grew thick with pain, and Angelus reached for her hand,
gripping it firmly as a tear rolled down her face.

"Buffy--" Willow moaned and tried to rise to go to her.

William’s arm tightened around her shoulders, and he shook his head as
she looked up at him.

"Buffy, this is just speculation," Angelus spoke softly as he knelt in
front of her chair. "As I said, it’s absolutely baseless. We’ve
probably got it all wrong."

"But we might not," she responded. "There’s so much he hasn’t told
me--has refused to tell me. How can I know? How can I ever know?"

He cupped her face in his hands and raised her eyes to his, "We could
know. We could find out, if that’s what you really want."

"Could we?" she sniffled. "But--how? He won’t tell me, Angelus. And he
certainly wouldn’t allow me to go there myself, not after having spent
so many years keeping--whatever might be there--secret from me."

"Perhaps it’s better not to know," Willow spoke.

"I can’t believe that you--of all people--said that," Buffy attempted a
weak smile.

"I can’t either," the redhead agreed. "It doesn’t sound like me, does
it?"

"It certainly doesn’t," her friend giggled and wiped away her drying
tears. "But I do want to know. Even if we’re wrong--even if Daddy has
never returned to Wales--I’ve always wanted to know about my past,
about what happened when I was an infant. But it’s useless. Daddy will
never tell me, much less take me back there, and I couldn’t possibly go
there on my own--"

"I could," Angelus told her.

Her eyes darted back to him, "You--you’d do that? You’d actually go
to--"

"If that’s what you need," he nodded.

"But would you find anyone willing to help you?" Spike asked, following
the lead his sire had plotted.

"Why wouldn’t they?" Willow asked.

"I did a fair bit of traveling, luv, before we settled here," he
explained. "In my experience, people can be reluctant about being open
with strangers--particularly when those strangers are men."

"Oh," Buffy sighed, her hopes suddenly dashed.

Willow looked around at the trio, "Well, what about me? I look harmless
enough. Maybe I could persuade someone to help."

Angelus turned slightly to look over at her, "It’s possible. You do
have a way with people."

"Thank you," she beamed brightly back at him.

Buffy shook her head, "Will, I couldn’t possibly ask you to--"

"Nonsense," the redhead stopped her. "You and your father are the only
past I have--well, except for various and innumerable memories of
waving to my parents as their ship sailed away. Let me do this for you,
Buffy. I want to."

"I think it could work," Angelus said.

"No," Buffy refused, still uneasy about the idea. "It’s far too unsafe.
She’d be all alone--"

"Not if I went with her," Spike suggested.

The young woman simply gawked from one vampire to the other, "Why would
you do this for me? Why would two complete strangers go to all of this
trouble--"

"Oh," Angelus said, and suddenly straightened himself up to his full
height. "Now, I’m offended."

Buffy jumped, in a most unladylike fashion, onto her feet, "No! No! I
didn’t mean--"

"Two complete strangers," he continued despite her protests. "I’ll be
the first to admit that our friendship--and that is what I’d considered
it--has not been a long one, but we’ve shared many hours together over
the past week. I had no idea--"

"Please, Angelus! I didn’t mean--"

"What do you say to that, William? Complete strangers."

"You’ve every right to be offended," the blonde vampire agreed and
glanced at Willow. "Pet?"

"Oh, absolutely," she nodded and stood up. "Come along, complete
strangers. I’ll just show you the front door."

Buffy began to giggle softly.

"You know, I wouldn’t be so presumptuous of my own standing, if I were
you, luv," he advised as he hooked an arm through the redhead’s.
"Granted you’ve known her far longer than we have, but who’s to account
for time spent? You’ve certainly been remiss during all the hours that
Angelus has been here."

"So true," she agreed and peeked around Angelus, "Shall we, stranger?"

"After you, stranger," he replied, sweeping a gallant arm toward the
door.

"Stop!" Buffy laughed out loud and grabbed Angelus’ arm. "You’ve made
your point."

"Are you certain?" he grinned back at her. "Because we can just--"

"Sit down," she insisted. "Please."

"Changes her mind a lot, doesn’t she, pet?" Spike asked.

"Women," Willow shook her head reproachfully.

He chuckled and sat down again, drawing her down beside him, and
Angelus squeezed Buffy’s hand and returned to his chair.

"All right," Buffy spoke after the laughter had subsided. "How should
we go about this? You can’t just set out for Wales and--"

"We need the name of the village in which you were born," Angelus said.
"Has your father ever spoken of it?"

"Only once that I know of, a long time ago, and it wasn’t to me. I
overheard him talking to one of his associates. I don’t know what they
were discussing, but I was so interested to know where I had been born
that I went directly to my room and wrote it down. I remember trying to
locate it on a map. I’m not even sure that it’s spelled correctly, but
you’ll at least get the sound of it, and I recall that it was a small
village northeast, I think, of Swansea. "

"That should do nicely," he nodded. "Willow, perhaps you could speak to
your butler in the morning and have him book train passage for William
and you to Swansea. I can arrange for a carriage to meet you and
William at the station in Swansea and take you on from there."

"I don’t think we should mention any of this to my father," Buffy
quickly suggested. "He’s so against my knowing that I’m sure he’d be
very put out. So, perhaps if you could start out as soon as
possible--before Daddy returns--"

"I agree," Willow replied. "It’s too late tonight. We’ll need to pack,
and I’ll have to make arrangements with the servants. I’ll instruct
them to tell anyone who might inquire that I’ve simply gone away for a
few days."

"Tomorrow night, just after sunset, then. That should give us enough
time to prepare for the journey," Spike suggested to the redhead.

"That would be perfect," she nodded. "Buffy- the name of that village?"

"Right. I’ll fetch it for you," she smiled with undisguised excitement
and stood to go to the door.
 
 

PART 15
Spike looked down as the pretty redhead beside him shivered slightly,
"Are you cold, luv?"

"Just a little," she smiled, and he responded by tucking the blanket
that lay over her knees a little more securely around her and sliding
closer to put his arm around her shoulders.

"Better?" he asked, his mouth close to her ear.

"Yes, thank you," she nodded and glanced out the train window at the
inky horizon of the night sky. "The stars are lovely tonight, aren’t
they?"

He grinned to himself, silently thinking how Dru would have approved of
that observation, and responded, "That they are. We should reach
Swansea just before sunrise, and I suggested to Angelus that a train
isn’t the best place to sleep. So, he’s arranged for a carriage to pick
us up later tomorrow. After a good rest and something to eat, we’ll
continue on--probably around dusk again."

"Good thinking," she agreed as the train clattered noisily along the
tracks. "I’ve a feeling that we’re both going to be exhausted by the
time we arrive at the station in Swansea."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Buffy gave her father a tight hug and rang for some tea before finally
settling down on the settee in the parlor. Rupert Giles poured a short
glass of whiskey and sat down beside her to listen intently as she
recounted her ordeal with Joshua Braddock.

"I’m so sorry, Buffy," he said when she had finished, still wiping the
last of her tears from her cheeks. "One of my associates wired me and
explained that Braddock had gone off somewhere, but I had no idea that
this was the reason! I wish I had been here for you."

She shook her head and smiled fondly at him, "I’m all right, now, and
Willow has been wonderful. She’s called on me every day since
he--left."

"I feel so responsible," he lamented. "I wanted so much for you and
Joshua to get on."

"Why?" she questioned, her brow furrowed in bewilderment. "Considering
the sort of man that he is, why did you want us to be together?"

"Well, of course, I had no idea that he would ever do something so
shameful. I knew something of his reputation, but I would never have
expected anything like this from him. One would have thought that a man
of his experience would have better sense than to commit such a gross
indecency."

"Experience? You make him sound ancient, Daddy. He’s only a few years
older than I."

"Yes, well, you know what I mean," he replied. "And there seemed to be
a mutual admiration between the two of you from the very moment you
first met."

"He seems to have an admiration for almost any woman he meets," she
stated dryly.

"I’m truly sorry, my dear. I only wanted your happiness," he
apologized.

"I know," she nodded. "I won’t say the past week has been a pleasant
one, but after a bit of sound advice, I think I’m beginning to gain
some perspective. I’m not sure I ever loved Joshua the way one ought to
love a future husband. I think it was only a matter of wanting to be in
love."

"Sound advice? From Willow?" her father guessed.

"Partly," she answered. "Daddy, I’ve--I’ve met someone."

"You’ve met--someone," he repeated slowly. "A man? That’s rather quick,
isn’t it? How did you meet him? Who is he? Do I know him?"

"Willow introduced us through a mutual friend. He’s been to call on me
several evenings this past week--"

"Buffy!" the confession shocked Giles.

"Don’t worry, Daddy," she smiled. "It was all perfectly respectable.
The servants were in and out like little ants, and often Willow and Mr.
Randall were here, as well."

Her father was now thoroughly flabbergasted, "Mr. Randall? Who in
blazes is Mr. Randall? Belinda, *what* has been going on here since I
left?"

"That’s the mutual friend I was speaking of. He’s also a close friend
of Angelus--" Buffy dropped a hand over her father’s arm as he began to
sputter again. "Mr. Randall and his sister recently moved to London
from Ireland. They’ve purchased Lord Heatley’s estate."

"In Belgravia?" that information seemed to placate him just a little.
"And who is Angelus?"

"A dear friend of William and Drusilla--that’s Mr. Randall and his
sister. I first met the Randall’s at Cordy’s party. You knew I was
attending," she reminded him, and he nodded. "Anyway, Mr. Randall and
Willow met there, as well, and they’ve been in each other’s company
quite a lot since then."

"He must be quite a man if he’s successfully captured Willow’s
attention," Giles couldn’t help grinning with fond amusement.

"And if she hasn’t managed to frighten him off," Buffy added with a
giggle. "After the whole wretched business with Joshua, Willow invited
me to dine with her and William and Angelus, who’s visiting the
Randall’s. He seems a very intelligent man, very perceptive. I’ve never
met anyone like him, Daddy. He’s helped me enormously through this
whole--disaster."

"Then I’m grateful to him, but I should like to meet him if you’re
spending so much time with this man," he told her.

"Of course," she smiled. "Shall I invite him to dinner?"

"Yes, I think you better had," he agreed.

"I’ll speak to cook in the morning and plan a menu for--Monday evening?
That should give her ample time to prepare. You’ll like Angelus, Daddy.
I know it."

"Well, he seems to have been a comfort to you. I suppose I should be
grateful for that, at least. I’m sorry you’ve had to muddle through
this on your own, sweetheart."

"But I haven’t. Not really. Everyone has been wonderfully
understanding--Xander and Cordy and--everyone," she assured him.

"All right, invite your young man to dinner. Make it an early dinner,
though. I have a meeting I must attend Monday night. Why don’t you ask
Willow and Mr. Randall to join us, as well?"

"Oh...um...Willow’s away for a few days," Buffy told him, deciding it
best not to mention that William was traveling with her.

"Is she? Where is she off to, then?"

"I couldn’t say, exactly," Buffy skirted the question.

At that moment, a pretty little parlor maid carrying a tea tray
entered, and she settled it on the table before leaving the room. Giles
fell silent as he watched his daughter pour out a cup for herself and
shook his head when she offered him one. Buffy glanced sideways at him,
thinking he suddenly seemed uneasy.

"What is it, Daddy?" she asked as the clock on the mantle chimed eleven
o’clock.

He opened his mouth as if to reply, then closed it again with a slight
shake of his head, "It’s nothing that can’t wait for another time. It’s
late, and I’m tired. I think I’ll relax in a warm bath and retire for
the night."

"All right," she nodded. "Shall we have breakfast together in the
morning?"

"I wouldn’t miss it," he smiled, and she stood and went over to give
him a peck on the cheek.

"Sleep well," she said as he stood up.

He looked down at her for a moment, then bent and placed a soft kiss
on the top of her head, "Good night, Buffy."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Spike entered the little restaurant across the road from the hotel in
Swansea where he and Willow taken rooms upon arriving just before dawn.
With a fair bit of grappling, he had managed to pull closed the wooden
shutters on the windows before tumbling onto the narrow but comfortable
bed. There he had slept--literally dead to the world--until an hour
ago, as the sun was just setting. Willow’s door had been locked and,
deciding that the redhead must still be asleep, the vampire had left
the hotel to walk a good distance away, following the shore line along
the bay. There he had come upon a dirty and bedraggled beggar who was
just settling down in the shelter of a worn and weathered doorway to
sleep for the night. In his drunken stupor, the vagrant hadn’t the
clarity of mind to register what was happening to him before Spike sunk
his fangs into the man’s neck and drained him quickly.

The blonde vampire returned to the hotel to discover that Willow had
indeed been awake and had, in fact, left the hotel two hours ago. Now,
as his gaze traveled over the small dining room, he found her alone at
a table in the corner, just finishing her dinner. He crossed over to
her, and she smiled as she saw him approaching.

"Thought I’d lost you, pet," he spoke pleasantly.

"I’m sorry," she grinned. "You were still sleeping when I woke up, and
I didn’t like to disturb you. Have you eaten?"

"Yes," he nodded. "The carriage is waiting outside the hotel, and I’ve
had our bags brought down. We can leave as soon as you’re ready."

Which I am," she nodded and rose from the table.

Ignoring the redhead’s insistance that she could pay for her meal,
Spike produced a roll of notes from his pocket and paid the bill before
escorting her across the street to the waiting carriage. Though Angelus
had never stepped foot on this soil, his reputation was well known by
all of the vampires in Great Britain and in most of Europe, as well.
The majority of masters, regardless of clan or territory, had a healthy
respect for the dark vampire, and Angelus had encountered no difficulty
in securing a cab--and a minion to drive it--from the master here in
Swansea. Spike assisted Willow into the cab and spoke quietly to the
driver before climbing in beside the redhead.

"How long?" she asked as the cab pulled away.

"We should arrive there by ten o’clock," he answered.

"That’s a bit late, isn’t it?" she responded. "We should have left
earlier."

"You needed the rest," he pointed out.

"As did you," she smiled. "I’m sorry. I’m impatient."

"The cabby says that he knows the area well," he told her. "It isn’t a
large town, but he knows where we can obtain lodging. And there are a
couple of pubs where we might be able make some initial inquiries."

"Pubs?" she asked, glancing uncertainly at him.

He chuckled and took her small hand in his, "Not you, luv. Me. We’ll
take a look around the town, then you can get settled in, and I’ll see
what I can learn from the local residents. I’ll try the pubs tonight,
and you can try the shopkeepers tomorrow. Fair enough?"

She grinned, "Fair enough."

"There’s one other thing," he said and reached into his coat pocket. "I
think you’d better wear this."

She looked down at the exquisite, diamond band lying in the palm of his
hand, "A ring? Why--"

"Didn’t you tell me your parents have a country estate?"

"In Derbyshire," she nodded, still not understanding his meaning.

"Then you know how reticent the residents of small villages can be," he
told her. "And you know how quickly word spreads in such places. It’s
going to be difficult enough trying to get any information from them.
How much success do you suppose that an unmarried couple who had
traveled from London and taken lodging together would have in
persuading anyone to communicate with us?"

"None at all," she answered, snatching up the ring from his palm and
pushing it onto the fourth finger on her left hand. "So, who are we,
then?"

"I suggest we keep as close to the truth as possible--much easier to
remember the details that way. We’re William and Willow Randall. From
London. We reside in Belgravia. Once we’ve had the opportunity to talk
with some of the residents, we can feel our way through the rest of our
story."

"Right," she agreed, seeming comfortable enough with that plan, until
another thought struck her, and she looked up at him with wide green
eyes. "William?"

"Yes, pet."

"Um...about our...I mean...you know," she stammered as a crimson blush
traveled over her cheeks.

"I’m sorry, luv. I’m afraid I don’t," he admitted. "What’s troubling
you?"

"Our...lodgings? I mean...if we’re supposed to be...married?"

"Ah," he nodded. "A young married couple taking separate rooms. Do you
suppose that’s going to create gossip among the villagers?"

"Are you joking?" she rolled her eyes. "Every tongue in that little
town will be wagging."

"I suppose so," he responded, allowing her to be the one to reach the
inevitable conclusion.

"We’d probably never get any information from them, would we?" She
nervously fiddled with the wedding band on her finger as he shook his
head. "Then we have to--to--"

"No, we don’t. Not if it’s going to be too distressing for you," Spike
assured her, knowing full well what her reaction would be.

"But this is so important to Buffy! No, I’m not going to let her down
like that," she decided. "It means too much to her. I can do this."

"Are you certain, pet? I’m sure Miss Giles would understand--"

"Of course she would," Willow interrupted. "She’d be disappointed, but
she’d never blame me. If we don’t take this opportunity, she may never
learn the truth. Her father won’t even speak of it to her, and he
certainly isn’t going to allow her to come here and find the answers
for herself. I’ve loved her like a sister since we were children. If it
hadn’t been for her, I wouldn’t have had a childhood. I would have
spent my entire youth--year-round, holidays, *every* day--in boarding
schools. She gave me my past, William. I want to give the same to her,
if we can. I can do this. I know I can."

The vampire was stupefied by the tiny redhead’s seemingly endless
resolve, and he clutched the hand bearing the ring and raised it to his
lips, "Very well, luv. But if it becomes too uncomfortable you’ve only
to tell me, and--"

"It won’t. We’re going to find Buffy’s answers, or if we don’t, it
won’t be for the want of trying," she vowed.

"I’m with you on that," he agreed with equal determination, though his
reasons were entirely different.
 
 

PART 16
Mrs. Avery was a 50ish-year-old woman who seemed to have no misgivings
about greeting the two strangers who had entered her little hotel
shortly before ten o’clock at night. Her chestnut hair was pulled up
into a tight bun. Willow had to stifle a giggle at the thought that the
silvery whisps of hair along the Mrs. Avery’s temples looked remarkably
like wings and gave the older woman the odd appearance that she was
about to take flight. Spike requested a room, and Mrs. Avery responded
with a cheery smile and dipped a pen in an inkwell before handing it
over to the blonde man.

"Just sign there, please," she said, stabbing a bony finger at the
registery book and peering over the counter as the vampire scratched a
name on the blank page in front of him. "Mr.and Mrs. Randall. Come all
the way from London, have yer? It’s been a long time since I’ve set
foot there, meself."

Not so long, Willow thought to herself, that the woman had lost all
trace of a faint cockney accent.

"That’s where I met me husband, George, it was. He ain’t ‘ere right
now, of course," she continued while she suddenly stooped down behind
the counter to retrieve a key from its place on a shelf before popping
back up into view. "He’ll be down at the pub till midnight, I reckon.
Same as usual. Newly wed, are yer?"

The sudden shift in her rambling discourse caught Willow off guard, and
she glanced up at Spike, fearful that they both might blurt out two
completely different answers. He slipped an arm around the redhead’s
waist and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"No," was the only answer he offered.

"Might as well be, by the look of it," she said, then laughed out loud,
apparently finding something humorous in the remark. "Come along, then.
Rooms are this way."

Spike grabbed up both his and Willow’s suitcases and gestured for the
redhead to proceed him up the flight of stairs that the woman was
quickly ascending.

"We ain’t the Grand Hotel, but I guess you’ll sleep comfortable
enough," she called back over her shoulder. "Fer all the sleep you’ll
be wantin’ to do, anyway."

Another fit of laughter followed this statement, and Willow blushed to
her roots as Mrs. Avery reached the top stair and set off down the
narrow corridor. She stopped in front of the last door on the left and
slid the key in the lock.

"You’ll have all the privacy yer want here," she told them and pointed
to a door on the back wall, just to their right. "Them are outside
stairs, and ‘ere’s a key, so yer can come and go as yer please. Saves
me from having to let guests in and out on them nights when George
comes home early. Cuz he only comes home early when he’s too drunk to
drink anymore, and then there’s nothing fer it but to get him into bed.
Just remember to lock it after yer, won’t yer?"

"Of course," Willow nodded and took the proffered key.

Mrs. Avery unlocked their room and stepped inside only long enough to
light the oil lamp that sat on a bureau along the wall by the door. She
dropped the key beside the lamp and stepped back into the hallway,
"Well, I’ll leave yer to it, then."

Spike followed Willow inside and toed the door closed behind him. The
room was tiny, furnished with only a bed, a wooden chair, a wardrobe,
and the one small bureau, but it was clean and adequately lit by the
single lamp. Spike dropped the suitcases to the floor and went to the
window near the head of the bed while Willow investigated a door in the
wall to her left. He flicked back the heavy curtains and breathed a
mental sigh of relief at the sight of the heavy shutters that had been
pulled tightly over the window. From the look of the heavily rusted
hinges and latch, it appeared as if they hadn’t been opened in months,
which suited the vampire just fine.

"A bath!" the redhead exclaimed delightedly as she stepped inside the
closet-sized room.

"Well, pet, we’re not exactly in uncivilized territory," Spike
chuckled.

"Yes, but still," she responded as she came back into the bedroom.
"Well...one never knows, does one? Do you suppose Mrs. Avery could be
prevailed upon to supply some hot water?"

"I should think so. She does seem to be the one left here to see to the
guests. What do you think, luv? Shall we slip down the back stairs and
take a quick look around the town before we settle in for the night?"
he suggested.

"All right," she agreed, and he scooped up the key from the dresser and
reached for her hand as he opened the door.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Rupert Giles studied the tall, dark-haired man standing beside his
daughter in the foyer. The stranger’s clothing was perfectly tailored,
and he greeted both the small blonde woman and her father with a
gracious formality, but there was something behind the man’s eyes that
Giles couldn’t quite characterize.

Giles shrugged off his unease as nothing more than protective
reservation. He knew nothing of this man, had never even laid eyes upon
him before, yet his daughter felt comfortable enough with him to
address him by his given name and to have invited him to dinner only a
week after having been subjected to a humiliatingly public heartbreak.

He felt an acute sense of guilt over Buffy’s predicament. Giles had
known of Braddock’s predilection for women, but he had shown great
promise with the council. In fact, he had taken on such a central role
in the organization that Giles had been convinced that the younger man
was maturing beyond such foolish fancies. It had been the accidental
meeting of Buffy and Joshua one evening, when she had returned home
earlier than expected from a party to find the two men chatting in the
sitting room, that had initially sparked the idea in Giles’ mind. The
instant attraction between the two was unmistakable, and shortly
thereafter, he had suggested to Braddock that he call on his daughter
in a social capacity.

While he hadn’t encouraged his daughter’s infatuation in so many words,
Giles couldn’t deny that his actions had carried the same intent. Buffy
truly seemed taken with the man, and Joshua, in turn, was obviously
attracted to her. If he could win Buffy’s heart, she would have two men
who loved her and who could help her make the difficult transition when
the inevitable time came to explain to her what she really was. Now, in
hindsight, the soon-to-be watcher found himself questioning his own
motives. Had he really only wanted Joshua to woo his daughter as a
means of drawing her over to their side?

"No," a small voice spoke in the back of is mind. He had loved Buffy
all her life, had done anything and everything necessary to ensure her
happiness and well-being. Heartache was the last thing he would ever
have wanted for her. And if the way she was looking at the man standing
beside her was any indication, Buffy hadn’t cared as deeply for Joshua
as Giles had formerly thought. He wished he could have been here for
her when she had first learned of Braddock’s betrayal, to help her
through the shock of that discovery. However,her friends seemed to have
rallied to her side and eased her pain, and Giles felt he must be
thankful that Angelus was apparently a part of that supportive effort.

"Daddy?" Buffy’s gentle hand on his arm broke through his sober
musings.

"So sorry," he smiled and gestured toward the dining room door to his
right. "Shall we?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Next, Daddy’s going to demand that you produce a detailed outline of
your lineage," Buffy quipped with a smile after the trio had finished
eating and had moved from the dining room to the parlor, where Angelus
has spent several minutes relating to her father the now familiar
history that he, Spike, and Drusilla had fabricated for themselves.

The vampire chuckled and grinned back at her, "One could hardly blame
him, though, considering the unpleasantness you’ve endured this week."

"Thank you," Giles replied sincerely. "I didn’t mean to sound so--"

"You didn’t," Angelus assured him. "I do understand."

Giles nodded, "Well, now that you’ve been thoroughly interrogated,
perhaps you’ll excuse me? I’ve some papers I must look over, if you
think you can do without me."

"I’ll think we’ll manage," Buffy grinned.

He rose from his chair and held out his hand to the vampire, "Good
night. And thank you for--forbearing."

Angelus shook his hand briefly, "Not at all. Thank you for the
invitation. Good night, Mr. Giles."

"Good night," the man responded before letting himself out of the room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow and Spike walked slowly along the main street of the village.
The shops on either side of them were dark, having been shut several
hours ago for the night . Only a few houses were situated in the little
town itself; several more were scattered about the surrounding
countryside. Currently, the only sign of life came from a weather-worn
pub at the far end of the street. Spike had the vague sense of other
vampires’ presence, and he stopped as he tried to hone in on the
sensation, but the scent was so fleeting he wondered if he hadn’t
actually imagined it.

Willow looked up at him, "There isn’t much to see, is there?"

He shook his head, "I think the pub is our only source of information
tonight, and you can’t go in there."

She nodded in agreement as a rousing chorus, sung by voices so slurred
as to make the words unintelligible, filtered out from the building
several feet away, "I’ll go back to the hotel and have a nice, long
bath."

She attempted to turn away, but his tightening grip on her arm stopped
her, "I’d better walk you back, pet."

"Why?" she asked. "There’s no one about. It’s perfectly safe."

The blonde vampire, still not convinced that there weren’t others of
his kind lurking in the shadows, would have none of it, "Best to be
careful."

"Very well," she shrugged. "You’ll be sure to tell me if you learn
anything?"

He nodded, "Shall I wake you if you’re asleep when I get back?"

"I won’t be," she smiled. "After traveling at night and sleeping during
the day, I think my mental clock’s turned around. I’m not very tired.
I’ve a book with me; I’ll just read until you return, and then you can
tell me everything."

Spike grinned at her words, thinking that her "everything," was
undoubtedly literal. His little redhead seemed to have a voracious
curiosity which he found most endearing. However, there were some
"everythings" that she could know and some that she could not. Not yet,
anyway.

They walked in silence to the hotel and around the stone walkway that
lead through the weedy yard to the outside flight of stairs. Spike
followed her up and unlocked first the outside door, then the bedroom
door, and waited for her to step through and lock it once again before
he turned away.
 
 

PART 17
Willow had bathed and changed into her night attire by the time Spike
returned to the small hotel bedroom. She had moved the oil lamp to the
opposite end of the bureau and dragged over the solid wooden chair,
where she now sat, reading, as he quietly closed the door and locked
it.

The redhead set the book aside and rose to face him, "Did you find
anyone who was willing to help?"

"Most of them were either too drunk or too wary to be talkative, but I
did come across a couple of old chaps who were willing to chat for the
price of a pint or two," he answered.

"And?" she prompted him eagerly and stepped closer to the bed as he
perched on the edge of the mattress.

"Well, first, I had to get past the problem of her name," he began.

"I don’t understand. Who’s name? Buffy’s?"

"Yeah, but they didn’t recognize her as Belinda Giles. Her mother’s
surname was Summers," he answered.

The redhead’s forehead furrowed, "What? That doesn’t--"

"Just let me finish," he requested and patted the mattress. "Sit down,
luv. I’ve a feeling you’re in for a shock."

She kept her eyes on him, but did as he asked.

"Right," he nodded. "Now, the two men I spoke to are old locals. So I’m
inclined to believe they know what they’re talking about. They
remembered very well Miss Giles’ disappearance--no, don’t interrupt,
pet; just let me tell it straight through. Apparently, the whole
episode left this little village buzzing, and it’s never been forgotten
by anyone who was here at the time. Belinda’s father was a man named
Henry Summers--Hank, he was known as. He and his wife--Joyce--seemed a
happy enough couple to everyone who knew them. But about a week before
Belinda was born, Hank Summers suddenly disappeared. No one has seen or
heard from him since, but there was a lot of talk when it happened.
The scandal virtually ruined Joyce Summers. She was basically
outcast--you know how people are."

"It must have been horrible for her," Willow whispered.

Spike continued, "Anyway, their home was within walking distance, but
she rarely came into town after that. A couple of weeks later a man by
the name of Rupert--that’s the surname he gave--arrived in town, asking
for directions to the Summers’ estate. This was just days after Belinda
was delivered, and he stayed in this very hotel for about two weeks
before moving into the Summers’ home. He claimed, at the time, to have
been a relative of Joyce’s--a cousin or something like that--"

"Well, this Mr. Rupert is obviously Mr. Giles, but why should he use a
false name? And if he were related to Joyce Summers, why did he stay
here--in town--all that time before moving into the Summers’ house?"
Willow wondered.

"That’s the question everyone else was asking," he nodded. "He stayed
on at the Summers’ estate for a few months, and he asked so many
questions regarding the disappearance of Hank Summers, some of the
townsfolk began to wonder if he had had something to do with it. Then
one night, about four months after Belinda was born, the Mrs. Summers
suddenly vanished, along with Rupert and the infant."

"Just as Hank Summers did?" the redhead asked.

"Well, not quite," he answered. "At least, you and I know that. No one
in the village ever saw Hank Summers again, just as no one has ever
seen his wife or his child since they disappeared at the same time that
Mr. Giles did. Some of the villagers even speculated that perhaps Giles
had killed both the mother and child; others thought the three of them
had run off together. The thing is, Joyce Summers had arranged for a
delivery from the butcher just the afternoon before all of this
happened. When the man went to the Summers’ estate the next morning, no
one was about. Several days passed before anyone was aware that the
three of them were truly gone. Someone mentioned having seen Giles’
coach fleeing the village on the night they all went missing, and of
course, the next question was--"

"Why leave town so suddenly--and in the dead of night--if they were all
going willingly?" Willow guessed where he was leading.

"Almost their exact words, pet," he confirmed. " You and I know what
happened to Giles and the infant, don’t we? But what about the mother?
Have you ever heard mention of her?"

"No," Willow shook her head, trying to absorb what he was telling her.
"Mr. Giles has never spoken to me of Buffy’s mother, not even in
passing. Nearly every holiday of my youth was spent in their home in
London, but I never heard anyone speak of a Joyce Summers ."

"Well, the house and grounds here were checked thoroughly after they’d
left, but nothing was found. Joyce never returned or sent word to
anyone in the village after that night," he told her. "And the house
has been empty since they all disappeared."

Willow took a steadying breath, "I can hardly take all of this in,
William. You’re saying that Buffy isn’t--has never been--Mr. Giles’
daughter? That everything he’s told her since she was old enough to
understand has been a lie. Belinda’s mother wasn’t Rupert Giles’ wife;
she didn’t die from any illness--or could she have done, perhaps after
they left this village together?"

"Then where’s the body, pet?" he pointed out.

The redhead groaned softly and rubbed her palm over her brow, "We’ve
more questions now than we had before we started. There has to be more
to this story than those men realize. There must be a reasonable
explanation for what happened--something that these people don't know
about. But how do we found out what that is, William? What do we do
next?"

"We need to find the Summers’ estate and have a good look around it. I
have a general location, but we’ll need directions. Perhaps you can
inquire about that tomorrow? I hinted that we were looking for a
property, so you can use that as an excuse to ask about. Word will
spread quickly that I was asking questions tonight, so I think we’d
better plan on going to the old house tomorrow after sunset. We don’t
want anymore attention drawn to us than is necessary."

"All right," she agreed. "But I have to admit that I’m really, really
not liking this."

He placed his hand over hers, "I can understand that. Shall we stop?"

"No!" her reaction was immediate. "We came to find the answers that
Buffy’s been seeking, and we *are* going to find them. No matter what
they may be."

He smiled and nodded in agreement, and she stood up and tightened the
sash of her robe.

"You must be exhausted. We should get some--" she stopped, her eyes
widening. "William?"

"Yes," he couldn’t help the grin that twitched at the corners of his
mouth.

"There’s--there’s only one bed," she nervously as her eyes darted away
from him. "How are we going to--"

"We’ll just have to share," he shrugged casually.

Spike opened his suitcase and dragged out of a pair of pajamas that
Drusilla had somehow managed to procure for this trip. Even as a human
he had preferred sleeping in the nude, and he couldn’t even remember
ever having worn pajamas. However, he thought to himself with a wide
mental grin, while he would undoubtedly thoroughly enjoy it, he was
certain that Willow was not *quite* ready to see him au naturel.

He stepped around the side of the bed and headed for the door opposite
them, "You crawl under the covers, pet, while I get washed up."

"But--but--" she sputtered, her cheeks flaming an even deeper shade of
red. "I’ll just...just...I’ll sleep in the chair."

He shook his head, "You can’t do that, luv. You’ll need your wits about
you tomorrow, which means you’ll need a few good hours of sleep."

"William--"

He arched an eyebrow, "I thought you’d made up your mind about this
after we left Swansea."

"I know. I did," she nodded. "But--there’s only *one* bed."

"So we’re sharing, pet. Lots of married folk do."

"That isn’t funny," she scowled.

"Actually, it is," he chuckled. "Coward."

"I am NOT a coward!" she hissed, her previous embarrassment quickly
forgotten.

"No?"

"No!" she insisted angrily as she hauled his suitcase off the bed,
snatched back the covers, and quickly crawled under them. "See?"

"Didn’t think you were," he grinned before stepping into the bathroom
and closing the door on her exasperated growl.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow had bravely divested herself of her dressing gown and was
propped up against the headboard of the bed, the blanket pulled up to
her chin, when Spike re-entered the bedroom.

"Are you planning on sleeping in that position?" he teased.

"Perhaps," she replied tartly and followed him with her eyes as he
moved to the lamp on the bureau.

"You’ll get a cramp in your neck," he warned her. "And it’s such a
lovely neck."

"Put out the light," she snapped and scooted down under the covers.

He laughed and extinguished the flame in the lamp before going to the
bed and sliding in beside her. The mattress wasn’t terribly wide, and
the little redhead’s body tensed at closeness of their bodies.

"It’s all right, luv," he said softly. "Relax. Go to sleep."

He felt her body easing ever so slightly beside him, and a moment later
she whispered, "William?"

"Yes."

"You won’t ever tell *anyone* about--this, will you?"

"On my word of honor," he responded, deciding that was a perfectly safe
answer since he had no honor.

"Thanks," she replied. Then a moment later, "William?"

A quiet chuckle, followed by, "Yes."

"You’re cold. Are you all right?" her voice softened with concern.

"I’m fine, pet. A medical thing. Runs in the family."

"Oh. Is it very unpleasant?"

"No. I’m used to it," he answered truthfully. "Go to sleep."

"All right. Good night, William."

"Good night, luv."

Spike lay still for several minutes until her breathing echoed the
slow, regular rhythm of sleep. Then he carefully shifted closer to her
and drew her warm body against him and smiled to himself as she
instinctively snuggled into his arms. He would have both the pleasure
of holding her as she slept and the anticipation of her reaction when
she awoke in the morning to find herself wrapped around him. Tightening
his arms about her, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead and closed
his eyes.
 
 

PART 18
Willow awoke in the dark bedroom, the heavily shuttered window
completely obscuring the daylight outside the little hotel. The haze of
sleep curling round the corners of her consciousness suddenly
evaporated in a soft shriek as she realized she was pressed firmly
against the vampire beside her, his strong arm curled tightly around
her. Spike was instantly awake, and he looked down at her with a
chuckle of amusement as she struggled to release herself from his
unyielding hold.

"Is there a problem, pet?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

"You could say that," she snapped as her two small hands pushed against
his solid chest. "Let GO of me!"

"Here now. That’s no way to speak to your loving husband," he chided
her.

"It isn’t funny," she fumed. "Let me up!"

He breathed a false sigh and drew his arms away from her, and Willow
scrambled out of the bed, giving him a deliciously enticing view of her
shapely rear end. She whirled around to face him, her eyes flashing
angrily in the darkness, and he reached for her hand, which she quickly
snatched away.

"There’s no need to be embarrassed, luv," he assured her. "It’s a
natural thing for two bodies in the same bed to seek out the comfort of
another."

"MY body was doing no such thing!" she stated, her face flaming red.

"Are you sure about that?" he laughed softly. "You felt pretty
comfortable all pressed up next to me."

"Oh, just--shut up," she barked and went to the wardrobe where she had
hung a fresh skirt and blouse the night before.

"Sorry, pet," he said more convincingly. "I didn’t mean to speak for
you. I suppose it was just that I felt comfortable holding you."

"Well, no, I didn’t mean to say that I wasn’t comfortable--" she shook
her head at the unintentional admission and slammed shut the wardrobe
door. "Could we just not have this conversation, please? I’m going to
try to locate the Summers’ estate. That is, if it’s daylight. Do you
think that it is?"

The vampire’s internal clock knew very well that the sun had fully
risen, but he answered simply, "I expect so, by now."

She nodded and went into the bathroom to change, and Spike was nearly
asleep once again by the time she re-emerged. Taking the key from the
top of the bureau, she unlocked the door and turned to look back at
him. The blanket had traveled low on his hips, and her eyes traveled
over the well-toned body hidden underneath the pajamas, up the muscular
arms that she had awoken to, and up to the chiseled lines of his face,
where she discovered his eyes studying her. For the third time in less
than an hour, her cheeks warmed with a pink hue as she realized she had
been caught in the act of ogling the gorgeous form of the man in the
bed.

Spike only smiled softly and said, "Be careful, luv."

"I will," she answered with an echoing smile and let herself out of the
room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow wandered down the same street that she and Spike had walked the
evening before, reveling in the warmth of the late morning sun. The
town was deserted except for an elderly couple who were entering a
little tea shop across the street. The redhead was confused to find all
the shops closed and no one about, until she remembered that this was
Sunday. Tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear, she started
across the narrow road, hoping she could somehow make inquiries about
the Summers’ estate--in a tea room, of all places--without raising
suspicion.

The inviting smell of freshly baked bread and scones assaulted her
senses as she stepped inside the little shop, and she helped herself to
a chair at a table beside the window. A slender, pretty young woman
approached, and Willow plopped her reticule onto the table and fished
out a pound and ordered tea and scones. Willow handed her the money,
instructing her to keep all of it, and the waitress smiled broadly and
walked quickly away.

While she waited for her order to be served, the redhead looked around
the tea room. The couple she had seen entering a few minutes ago were
seated on the far side of the square-shaped room, and a gentleman was
sipping a cup of tea and reading a newspaper three tables away from her
own. Willow turned her gaze out the window beside her while her
thoughts turned inward.

She was still trying to process all that Spike had told her when he had
returned from the pub last night. She wondered if he realized how truly
discomfiting it had all been for her. Aside from all the puzzling
questions that the shocking story had raised in her mind, there was
also the worry of how Buffy would react. Willow had practically grown
up with her. She knew how devoted her best friend was to her father,
and he to her. Buffy had been so certain that she wanted the truth, but
now, Willow wondered if this particular truth would be more than her
best friend could bear. A part of her hoped that, with additional
information, there would be a harmless and logical explanation for what
had happened all those years ago, but a much larger part thought that
very unlikely. She feared that what they would unearth, if they were
able, would only bring heartbreak.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the waitress returned with the tea
and scones, and Willow smiled her thanks. The tea was fresh and hot,
the scones flaky and warm, and the modest breakfast would have been
truly enjoyable if it hadn’t been accompanied by the unpleasant
thoughts that sat alongside her.

"Excuse me, Ma’am," the redhead jumped as a man’s voice startled her.
"Oh, beg pardon. Didn’t mean to frighten you."

"That’s quite all right," Willow looked up to see the gentleman who had
been sitting at the other table.

"You’d be Mrs. Randall?" he guessed. "I saw your husband last night.
Heard you were stayin’ at the hotel--I’m George Avery. Course, I didn’t
know he was Mr. Randall until my wife told me."

"Oh, yes," she nodded.

"Word has it he was askin’ a lot of questions about...that whole nasty
business that went on here a few years back."

Willow cleared her throat and forced a note of calm into her voice,
"We’re looking for property, and we heard the estate was--unoccupied."

"The Summers’ place," he nodded.

"Yes. Well, we’ve heard--stories..."

He chuckled, a rich pleasant sound, "I reckon you have. We ain’t had
nothin’ like that happen around here before or since. You thinkin’ of
buying the old place, are you?"

"Possibly," she answered.

"Don’t even know that it’s up for sale," he said. "Don’t suppose it
would do any harm to look the place over, though."

"That’s what we thought, too," she smiled warmly. "Is it very far from
town?"

"Nah. Half an hour by foot. There’s a little lane at the end of
town--just past the market. Straight down that road, it is. The only
other houses are miles beyond that one, and the Summers’ place ain’t
been tended to for years. Reckon it won’t hardly be fit for livin’ in."

"It doesn’t sound very promising," she agreed with a sigh.

"Can’t figure out why you’d be wantin’ to purchase property around
here, anyway. You bein’ from London and all. Might better be in
Swansea."

"Mrs. Avery is from London, isn’t she?" Willow asked.

The man quirked an eyebrow as if he hadn’t thought of that and burst
into laughter, "Reckon she is, at that. You really think you’re
interested in that old place?"

"Probably not," she admitted. "I’ll speak to--my husband, but I doubt
it. Thank you for your help, Mr. Avery."

"Think nothin’ of it," he shrugged.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Giles watched from the morning room window as Buffy climbed into the
carriage and rode off to spend the afternoon calling on Cordelia and
Xander. When the carriage was lost from sight, he left the room to
climb the stairs to the parlor. Picking the newspaper up off the chair
in which he had tossed it that morning, he sat down and let his eyes
travel over the front page without actually reading it.

He’d sent word to the council late Saturday afternoon, asking if they
couldn’t postpone Monday’s meeting as he had another appointment. The
truth of it was, no such appointment existed, he was merely attempting
to put off the inevitable. Over the course of the past month, the other
members had become increasingly persistent in their demands that he
talk to Buffy. Up to now, they had been sympathetically patient, but
when he received the reply that the meeting must be held, and the best
they could do would be to reschedule it for ten o’clock rather than
eight, he knew their patience had finally reached an end.

The council had agreed to wait to begin training the new slayer until
they had re-settled after the Ireland incident, but Giles knew--as did
they--that there were no longer any valid excuses for putting it off.
The vampires in London had gone on unhindered. Buffy--the current
slayer--should be taking advantage of the next few months to patrol and
hone her innate slaying skills. The Hellmouth that was located on the
east coast in the United States was now in desperate need of its
slayer. And there was another worry for Giles--having to explain to his
daughter that they must move to the States. She had never been there.
She would know no one there. And he realized, that by putting it off,
he had only succeeded in making the inevitable that much more
difficult.

He breathed a heavy sigh and let the newspaper fall to his lap. He had
kept his secrets, kept her destiny from her all these years, and had
told himself it was in her best interest. He still believed that to be
true. She had been so young, and there had been no need to cripple her
easy, carefree childhood with a burden there had been no reason for her
to bear while the former slayer was still alive. But beyond that reason
for keeping his secret lay fear--paralyzing fear--that along with that
secret, others would tumble forth.

He had never spoken of her mother to Buffy, and with the passage of
time, he had become quite adept at pushing the whole episode from his
mind for long stretches of time. But once Buffy knew what she was, when
she realized she was something other than what she had always believed
herself to be, would she not also begin to wonder what other secrets
lurked in her past? When she had been a child, it had been easy to
quell her periodic inquiries about her mother. She was easily
influenced, easily put off, and as she grew and matured, the knowledge
was bred within her that the topic was not one to be broached. And she
never did. He had loved her and raised her as his own daughter. When
she
learned she was the slayer, would that bond be enough? Would she still
be content to leave the rest of her past buried, or would that change?
Would she be unsatisfied with only a partial past? Would she demand to
know all of it? And if she did, could he maintain the lies?

His mind traveled back to that dark, ugly night that he so stubbornly
refused to allow himself to dwell upon. How could he ever explain to
her that ugly truth? He had never known her father, Henry Summers. It
had been the news of that man’s death and the council’s knowledge that
the Summers’ child was to be the future slayer that had sent Giles to
Wales shortly after the baby was born. After days of searching, he had
finally located Henry Summers’ corpse--drained and left half-buried on
a wooded hillside six miles outside of town.

It had taken several more days of patient explanation to a terrified
Joyce Summers before she had finally accepted the truth. Trembling with
fear, she had pleaded for him to come stay at the estate until she
could free herself of the property and return with him to London where,
with the aid of the other council members who were a small, auxiliary
group of those in Ireland, it would be easier to protect both her and
her daughter. For Joyce, it had been a difficult decision, but she had
finally agreed that, for the safety for the infant slayer, it would be
better not to retrieve her husband’s body, or what little was left of
it by that time. Unfortunately, that also meant it would take months to
settle the legalities of the estate so that she would be free to leave
Wales.

The whole nightmarish situation took on an even darker aspect when
Giles returned to the house one night to find Joyce Summers prowling
around the grounds of her own home. If only he hadn’t gone into town so
late that afternoon, leaving her and her baby alone in the house. If
only he hadn’t stopped in at that pub. If only he had glanced out of
the window before the sun had set rather than three hours afterward.
Giles squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a suddering breath. "If
onlys" were useless.

Even after all these years, the man was still occasionally haunted by
nightmares of her pale, cruel face, fangs flashing in the moonlight,
lips painted scarlet with the blood of her sire. The vampires who had
killed her husband in their attempts to destroy the slayer before she
could be born, had now attacked Joyce, turned her, and left her there
to kill her own baby. Plunging a stake into that woman’s heart had been
one of the most difficult things he had ever had to do. But even as her
ashes flitted away in the night air, Giles knew the other vampires
couldn’t be far away. The horse was still hitched to the carriage in
which he had just returned from the town, and he quickly gathered up
the small child and fled with her, leaving everything behind.

A small shiver shook Giles’ body as he relived that night, and he rose
from the chair to pour a glass of whiskey. How could he possibly
explain to the young woman who had always believed herself to be his
daughter that the only blood between them had been that which was
drained from her mother? That she had died at his own hands. That
Buffy’s true parentage had been left, buried in the past, in a small
village in Wales? She knew nothing of vampires or the other evils that
stalked the night. Opening her innocent eyes to their existence,
opening her mind to her role as the slayer, pulling her into the
council’s guidance would be difficult enough for the young woman to
handle. How could he expect her to cope with the knowledge of her real
parents’ deaths on top of everything else?

Feeling as though his mind were spinning in opposite directions, Giles
drained the glass and set it down on the mantle. Perhaps, after meeting
with the council tomorrow night, he would have a better idea of how to
handle the entire situation. They were aware of Buffy’s past and had
supported his decision to keep it from her all these years. While he
would not allow them to make the decision, these were men whose wisdom
and judgment he trusted. Perhaps in discussing the matter with them
would come clarity of thought. He desperately hoped so, for he was
woefully lacking it now.
 
 

PART 19
Spike had managed to charm a pot of tea and a tray of sandwiches from
Mrs. Avery’s kitchen in the hope that it would forestall any notion
Willow may have had about leaving the hotel should she return before
sunset. When he heard his redhead’s footsteps in the corridor outside,
he opened the door to her, and she stepped through. Her eyes
immediately settled on the covered tray of food he had set atop the
bureau only a few minutes ago.

"Oh, what a brilliant idea," she smiled in pleasant surprise. "I’m
starving."

"Thought you might be," the vampire smiled and waved her over to the
bed. "Did you encounter any trouble, pet? You’ve been gone longer than
I expected you’d be."

"No, no trouble; I was just walking about," she shook her head as she
hitched up her skirts enough to allow her to sit down on the bed,
cross-legged, and he carried over the tray and set it on the mattress
between them.

She poured out two cups of the steaming tea and helped herself to a
sandwich, and Spike waited for her to take a few bites before asking,
"Did you have any success, then?"

"Yes," she nodded. "All the shops are closed--did you forget that it’s
Sunday?"

"I’m afraid I did," he answered.

"I did, too. Fortunately, I met George Avery in the tea shop, and he
had overheard you speaking about the Summers’ place last night at the
pub. He was very obliging with directions to the place, though he
suggested that he really doesn’t think we’ll want to purchase it," she
added with an amused grin.

Spike chuckled, "Well, we’ll keep that bit of advice in mind. Did he
tell you any more of the history of the place?"

"No. I expect he considers that to be a topic not fit for a lady’s
ears," the redhead wrinkled her nose in mild disgust. "William, what do
you suppose we could possibly find there after all these years?"

"I don’t know, luv," he admitted. "But it’s worth a look. Finish
eating, and then you might want to get some rest before we start out
for the estate. We’ll wait until dark--will you be able to manage in
those shoes?"

"It’s only a thirty minute walk; I’ll manage," she assured him.

"I believe it," he grinned. "There isn’t much you don’t manage, is
there?"

"Not if I can help it," she answered. "But why wait until dark? If
everyone thinks we’re purchasing property, there’s no need to sneak
about, surely."

"I disagree, pet. There’s too much mystery surrounding that place. The
residents here still remember it all as though it were only yesterday.
Word must have gotten around by now that we’re thinking of buying. We
don’t need any prying eyes following us there."

"That’s true," she conceded. "All right, but no later than sunset.
Curiosity is killing me."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The moment the sun sank below the horizon, Willow latched onto Spike’s
arm and all but dragged him out the back door. He stood on the top
stair, shaking his head, as she quickly bounded down to the stone
walkway below.

"That was a most unladylike display, Mrs. Randall," he teased her,
echoing the dreaded words of the redhead’s mother.

She turned around and smiled up at him and whined playfully, "Ohhh,
Mum. I *hate* being a ‘lady.’"

He laughed and descended to her and, wrapping his arms around her
waist, said quietly, "You shouldn’t. You do it so well."

He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, nudging her lips apart
with his tongue and delving into the warmth of her mouth for a long
moment.

Her cheeks were prettily flushed as she drew away, but she spoke
humorously, "Mr. Randall, that is *not* what we’re exploring this
evening."

"Pity, that. Ah, well, there’s always later," he grinned and took her
hand to lead her around to the front of the building.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A full moon hung above in the cloudless night sky, and Spike and Willow
had no trouble finding the road beyond the market and following it for
what the vampire estimated to be half an hour.

"We must be close, pet," he said, stopping to investigate the
right-hand side of the lane. Willow wandered over to the left to look
for any sign of an overgrown drive.

"I think I’ve found it," she called over to him, and he went to join
her.

The drive had been virtually obliterated by overgrown weeds, and he
took her arm to help her wade through the tall grasses and around the
bushes. The grounds around the house were in a similar state, and the
redhead grunted in exasperation as they made their way toward the dark
structure.

"Why is it that men have the luxury of wearing trousers while we women
must suffer with skirts that tangle round our legs?" she complained as
she grabbed hold of the fabric of said skirts and angrily yanked them
free of the course grass around which they had become snagged.

"I’ll buy you a pair of trousers when we get back to London," he
grinned, and she squealed as she suddenly felt herself being lifted off
of the ground and into the vampire’s strong arms. "Better?"

She laughed out loud and wrapped her arms around his neck as he headed
across the lawn, "Actually, yes. Thank you."

The moonlight shimmered through the treetops around them, casting eerie
reflections against the windows of the abandoned house. Most of the
structure lay bathed in ghostly shadows, and the windows that weren’t
touched by the glow of the moon stared blankly back at the couple as
they approached.

"Rather menacing, isn’t it?" she asked as he climbed the steps to the
front door and sat her on her feet.

"Frightened, pet?"

"No," she shook her head, though she stayed close beside him. "I’m all
right. What if it’s locked? Should we break a--"

"It isn’t," he informed her as he opened the door, its hinges creaking
a loud protest.

The vampire had no difficulty entering the long abandoned house, and he
took Willow’s hand as she stepped in right behind him. Her mouth
dropped open as her eyes traveled over the large, dark foyer. Dust
enshrouded chairs and occasional tables sat just where they had been
positioned many years ago, and several paintings still hung from their
moorings on the walls, their sun-faded and cracking colors furthur
obscured by a thick coat of dirt.

"Nothing’s been touched, William! Whatever happened to Joyce Summers,
it doesn’t look as though she took anything with her."

"Odd," he agreed and headed across the parquet floor to the first door
on their right, which opened onto a large sitting room.

The light of the moon through the tall multi-paned windows allowed the
vampire to see easily, but he knew that the little human beside him
would find it more difficult. His gaze fell upon a candlestick sitting
on a table across the room. He walked over and picked it up and fished
the matches from his pocket.

"Thank you," she said as he lit the candle and handed it to her.

He nodded, and she moved away from him to investigate the cavernous
room. A large portrait hung above a fireplace on the north wall, and
she raised the candle to get a better look at it. There was no
mistaking the similarities between the woman in this picture and her
daughter, Buffy. Willow cast a glance over her shoulder at Spike.

"Must be Joyce Summers," he guessed.

"I don’t understand it," she murmured as she began to wander the room.
"*Everything* is still here. Books, furniture, some quite costly
trinkets. There are even unopened letters on this writing table."

She turned to run her fingers over the dusty back of an armchair, not
noticing as Spike tensed and stepped over to the tall window. Though
she couldn’t sense the presence of other vampires, it was strongly
apparent to him, and it was alarmingly sudden.

He turned quickly to her, "Pet, why don’t you go have a look upstairs,
and I’ll take the other rooms down here?"

"Right," she agreed, and he followed her back out of the room and
waited until she was up the stairway and out of sight before he headed
for the front door and out onto the lawn.

Three figures emerged from the shadows of the trees and rapidly
advanced on him. Spike shifted into game face and started toward them,
and the one in the lead held up a hand in a gesture of deference. Still
wary, the blonde vampire held his ground and waited until they stood
directly in front of him.

"My name is Simon. The Master in Swansea sent us after you," the
vampire informed him. "You had already left by the time word got to us
that you were inquiring about this village. We arrived here last night,
not long after you did, but we thought it best to stay out of sight of
the humans here. Our Master demanded we exercise the utmost caution,
and three more strangers lurking about would undoubtedly have raised
too many unwanted questions."

"You know about the events that took place here?" Spike asked.

"Not personally," he answered. "But I was sired by one who was here at
the time. You do realize, I imagine, that the slayer was born here."

"Yes, and that she was taken away suddenly--to London."

"Then why are you here?" one of the others asked suspiciously. "Are you
working for her?"

Spike snarled at the younger vampire and hissed, "Do I look like a
fool? My business here is not your concern--"

"That may be true," the elder agreed. "But the question is not entirely
without merit."

The blonde vampire grudgingly conceded the point, "You must know that
the former slayer has been dead for months. Yet, the current one has
not yet been summoned to her duties. We want to make sure that she
never is."

"And what happened here--nearly two decades ago--may help that cause?"

"Depends on the story," Spike answered.

The younger vampire suddenly snarled and trained his eyes on the dark
house, "Why the hell should we trust this bastard? He stomps around
*our* territory like it’s--"

"Watch your tongue, you ass. Do you know who you’re addressing?" the
elder vampire snapped angrily before turning back to Spike. "Excuse his
stupidity. He’s a fledgling."

"He’s brought a human with him!" the fledgling growled and started
around the blonde vampire. "There’s a human female in that damned house
right now!"

Spike’s arm shot out, and his hand clenched around the young vampire’s
throat, "That woman is mine. You so much as lay eyes on her, and I’ll
gouge them out of their sockets and feed them to you."

The fledgling’s amber eyes shimmered angrily as he struggled against
the hand around his neck, "Have you marked her as yours? What the hell
are you doing here, traipsing around with a human?"

He took a swing at Spike, and the older vampire released the
fledgling’s throat and caught his fist in mid-swing, wrenching it
around the vampire’s back and twisting until the bones threatened to
snap.

From behind Simon’s shoulder, the third vampire glared at the writhing
fledgling and growled, "Idiot! Does the name Spike mean nothing to
you?"

The fledging gasped around the sharp pain in his arm,"As in William the
Bloody? As in A-Angelus’ childe?"

"That’s the one. Now, shut the hell up!" Simon demanded, his eyes fixed
on the blonde vampire. "Again, I apologize. He’ll be properly flailed
for his insolence. We are no threat to your lady; I promise you that.
Now--you were saying?"

Spike gave the quivering fledgling a burning glare and flung him aside
before responding, "What happened here may very well bring down the
entire council, and the slayer along with it."

Immediately satisfied with that scant explanation, Simon began his own,
"My sire was among those who killed the slayer’s father. They were
ultimately, of course, trying to kill his wife before she delivered.
I’ve no idea how they’d ascertained that the woman was carrying the
future slayer, but I don’t suppose it really matters, anyway. However,
after her husband’s supposed disappearance, the woman kept herself
locked away in the house--particularly at night. The vampires bided
their time, but the infant was born soon after that, and then that man
appeared in town--he was a member of the council, wasn't he?"

"Rupert Giles," Spike nodded. "He still is. Never takes them bloody
long to track down the new slayer, does it?"

"Unfortunately, their reputation is well-founded," Simon agreed. "They
must have located her almost at the same time as we did. He arrived
soon after the slayer was born, and of course, after he’d moved into
this house with them, there was little hope of the vampires getting at
the slayer themselves."

"The mother didn’t flee with Giles and the child," Spike told him. "At
least, not as far as I am aware. No one has ever heard from her since
that night."

"She’s dead." The response took Spike by surprise. "The vampires knew
it was useless to try to kill the slayer themselves, so they targeted
the mother instead. He--Giles, that is--was in town that night. We
lured the woman outside, which wasn’t as difficult as you might
imagine. I believe, after everything that woman had suffered, she must
have become slightly unhinged. I suspect Giles must have feared the
same thing, as he rarely left her alone, and never at night. As my sire
told it, Giles had gone into town late that afternoon, for some reason.
At any rate, the sun set, and he hadn’t returned. The vampires drew the
mother out of the house and turned her. They dragged her off into the
cover of the trees, thinking that Giles would appear fairly quickly,
but three hours passed, and he still hadn’t arrived."

"Three hours?" the blonde vampire repeated. "Where the bloody hell
could he have been all that time?"

Simon snorted, "Word has it he was at the pub. Can you believe it? By
that time, the woman had awakened, hungry as Satan, with the infant
slayer within sensing distance."

"And safely inside that house," Spike added, gesturing over his
shoulder. "Where the newly-turned Joyce Summers could no longer reach
her."

"She was ordered to wait outside until Giles returned and then somehow
trick him into inviting her into the house. Once inside, she’d kill
him, then the slayer. A good plan, in theory, but she had just
awakened. She hadn’t fed. The bloodlust was too strong. When she saw
Giles--"

"She reacted," Spike guessed. "His heartbeat, his blood coursing
beneath the flesh, it must have been overwhelming."

"Exactly," he nodded. "And, of course, he was equipped to--handle--the
situation."

"Are you saying he staked her?"

"On those very steps," Simon nodded. "The other vampires were hidden
amongst the trees, too far to the left of the property to be able to
reach the door before he came running back out, with the child in his
arms."

"Why didn’t you trail them to London?" he asked.

"There was no trail. He must have driven straight through. We'd no idea
where he had taken her when he left here. Anyway, there wasn’t much
hope that he would leave that child vulnerable again. If she’s all
grown up in London, why hasn’t she been dealt with there?"

"As a child, she would hardly have been out after sunset, would she?
Certainly not without her ‘father’s’ protection," Spike pointed out.
"She’s not a child any longer, but she’s high society, mate. Her kind
doesn't walk around unescorted after dark. And her escort for the
better part of the past year has been a younger member of the council."

"Well, you have her history, now," Simon stated. "Is it helpful?"

"It’s absolutely lethal," Spike grinned. "Giles has been carrying
around some very damning secrets for a lot of years. He killed the
slayer’s mother, took the slayer as his own daughter, never told her
anything. This is better than I could ever have hoped for. Now, I need
you to do one more thing for me."

"You’ve only to name it," Simon agreed.

"Send these two away," he glanced at the third vampire, who was about
to protest. "You needn’t go far. Just out of sight. Willow, the woman
who’s with me, doesn’t know what we are. She’s come here as a favor to
the slayer, who wants information regarding her mother. Simon, I need
you to recount to her what you’ve just told me--without mentioning that
vampires were involved."

"But how--"

"Did the Summers have a groundskeeper?"

Simon shrugged, "I wouldn’t know, but I expect so. They had money, and
there’s a groundskeeper’s cottage at the edge of the property--it’s
lost amongst the trees, now."

"You’re the groundskeeper’s son, then. Your father witnessed what
happened the night Giles killed Joyce Summers. Since Giles had appeared
so soon after her husband’s death, your father assumed they were
lovers, that they’d fought, and Giles killed her. Can you embellish on
that story should Willow ask any questions--which she will?"

"Certainly," he nodded and turned to his companions. "Wait for me at
the end of the lane. Keep out of sight."

Spike waited until the vampires’ forms were swallowed up in the
darkness before turning to lead Simon into the house.
 
 

PART 20
Simon waited in the foyer while Spike climbed the stairs to fetch
Willow. He peered into the first bedroom and walked over to a large
wardrobe in the corner. Finding it empty, he concluded that this must
have been a guest room. He left the room and continued down the hall.
The third room had been furnished with a decidedly feminine touch,
evidence that this must have been Joyce Summers’ bedroom.

Quickly, Spike searched through the night stand beside the bed, the
wardrobe across the room, and, finally, a chest of drawers, where he
found a small wooden jewelry box tucked in amongst several pairs of
silk stockings and yellowed undergarments. He lifted the lid and picked
out a small, distinctive cameo brooch--a perfect piece of "evidence"
should his little redhead or the slayer require further convincing--and
tucked it into his pocket before returning the box to the dresser
drawer. He stepped out into the hallway and softly called Willow’s
name. In a second, she appeared in the doorway at the far end of the
corridor.

"It’s the nursery," she told him, clutching a faded and dusty blanket
in her hands. "William, everything is still here! Stuffed animals,
dolls, clothing, everything."

He nodded and held out a hand to her, "Come with me."

"Did you find something?" she asked, taking his hand and walking beside
him as he guided her toward the stairs.

"I’ve done better than that," he answered. "I’ve found some*one*."

She cast a puzzled look at the vampire but followed him silently down
to the foyer, where Simon was patiently waiting for them. She looked at
the tall handsome stranger for a moment, and Spike slipped an arm
around her waist and smiled down at her.

"Apparently, we were followed here, after all," he told her. "This is
Simon. Simon, this is Mrs. Randall."

Simon studied the small woman and immediately decided it must have been
only the search for information that had forestalled the blonde vampire
from turning her. The redhead was graced with a delicate beauty, and
intelligence radiated behind her remarkable, bright green eyes. Were he
in Spike’s position, he doubted he would have possessed the restraint
necessary to forbear claiming her as his mate.

"You followed us here?" Willow asked him. "Why?"

"I live some distance from town, so I hadn’t heard until this evening
that you were here, asking questions about the Summers’ estate," Simon
lied. "I saw the two of you just as you passed by the market, but I’d
lost sight of you before I could catch you up. I didn’t think that you
would make the trek out here after dark, but as you didn’t reappear, I
assumed that you must have done. I haven’t been on these grounds since
I was a lad, and it took a few minutes to find the old, overgrown
drive."

"You spent time here when you were a child?" she asked.

"With my father," he nodded. "He was groundskeeper here."

"He was crossing the yard just as I left the sitting room," Spike said.
"I went outside to ask him what he was doing here. When he told me of
his father, I mentioned Mrs. Summers’ sudden disappearance."

"And you know what happened that night?" Willow guessed.

"I wasn’t here at the time, but I know of it," Simon answered. "Of
course, my father didn’t tend to the grounds at night, but he’d
returned here that evening to fetch something he’d left behind. He’d
just arrived when the man who was staying here--Mr. Giles, was that how
your husband referred to him?"

She nodded, and he continued, "My father saw Mr. Giles coming out of
the house with the baby--Mrs. Summers’ infant daughter--in his arms.
His coach was ready and waiting, and Mrs. Summers’ flew out of the
house after him, sobbing and screaming as he put the child into the
carriage."

Willow breathed in and cast a hesitant look up at Spike, and he
smoothed his hand along the back of her head and asked, "Are you sure
you want to hear this, luv?"

"Yes, we must know," she answered, her voice soft but firm.

Simon nodded, "My father said she was nearly hysterical. She was
shouting something about not losing her husband only to have her
daughter taken from her, as well. Mr. Giles took her by the arms and
shook her roughly, insisting that the child was going with him--to
London--that night. That there was nothing more to discuss. He said
that they’d put it off long enough. It was long past time, and he’d
hear no more about it. He told her that she could either go with them
or be left behind--just as her husband was."

"What does that mean?" Spike asked, pretending to be perplexed. "Was
your father suggesting that Mr. Giles had--done harm to Mrs. Summer’s
husband."

"I don’t know that he was suggesting anything," Simon shrugged. "He
simply repeated to me what he had overheard that night. He never spoke
of this until I was grown, but even after all those years, the memory
was still sharp in his mind. He said he was sure he would never forget
it."

"Go on," Willow requested a bit breathlessly.

"Mrs. Summers struggled away from Mr. Giles and tried to get to the
child. She shouted that she knew nothing of destiny, didn’t care to
know, wouldn’t give up her child. He grabbed hold of her and flung her
away from the carriage and said they would leave without her. She
threatened to go to the villagers for help, to follow him to London
where she would steal back her baby and charge him with kidnapping.
Giles was furious at that threat. He hit her. She fell. A rock near the
carriage. He picked it up--"

"No!" Willow cut him off. "No, that can’t be! He couldn’t have killed
her. Why would he? What reason could he possibly have for stealing her
child? I’ve known Mr. Giles nearly all of my life. He wouldn’t--"

"I’m sorry if I’ve distressed you, Mrs. Randall. I didn’t mean to be
so--graphic, but you did say you wanted to know. I’m only repeating
what my father told me," Simon lied. "He was a good man. There was no
reason for him to concoct such a story."

"Where is your father?" she asked. "I want to speak to him."

"He’s been dead nearly five years. He had a weak heart--it had plagued
him for years. My mother passed on when I was but a lad, so it was just
the two of us. I knew that my father had been through something
terrible. He changed so drastically. It wasn’t until I was older that I
realized that change had begun the same night that these people all
disappeared."

"But why did your father never speak of it? Why didn’t he tell someone
that he’d witnessed a murder?" she wanted to know.

"I think, for a time, he had difficulty admitting to himself what he’d
seen. But it haunted him. He had nightmares. He couldn’t bring himself
to speak of it. It wasn’t until his health took poorly that he finally
told me what he had seen that night. I think he knew he was going to
die, and he didn’t want to carry that secret to his grave. Mr. Summers
had disappeared shortly before Mr. Giles arrived here. My father
wondered if Mr. Giles hadn’t killed Henry Summers, as well. My father
feared for his life--and for mine--so he never told anyone what he had
witnessed here. We moved away from the estate after that night. We
stayed fairly close to the village, but he never again ventured out
after dark. Not even for a pint with the boys at the pub."

"But someone must have come looking for Mrs. Summers. They’d have found
her body," Willow pointed out.

"Mr. Giles left the child in the carriage and ran off for a moment. He
must have gone to the stables because he returned with a shovel. He
carried the body off in that direction," he pointed toward the east
side of the house, where the trees grew tall and dense. "My father
reckoned that Mr. Giles must have buried her in the woods somewhere. My
father didn’t follow him, nor did he ever come back here to look for
her."

"Did you ever search for her body?" she asked.

He nodded, "After my father died. But that was many years after the
events of that night, and it was all grown over back there. Thick with
trees and brambles. Difficult enough just to walk through it, let alone
find a grave dug so long ago. I suppose that, by now, it would be all
but impossible."

She shook her head grimly, "I mean no disrespect to you or your father,
but with no body and no grave, how can we be certain?"

Spike reached into his pocket and pulled out the cameo and handed it to
her, "Simon’s father kept this with him. It must have come off during
the struggle that night."

Though the other vampire had never lied eyes on the brooch, he quickly
picked up on the lie and elaborated on it, "After Mr. Giles was out of
sight, my father hurried over to the carriage--to check on the
infant--and found that lying in the grass. He kept it hidden away all
those years. Said he didn’t know why, except to reassure himself that
he hadn’t imagined the whole nightmare in a flight of madness."

Willow studied the distinctive piece of jewelry, "It’s beautiful. But
Buffy couldn’t possibly recognize it."

"Mr. Giles might, though," Spike suggested pointedly.

She looked up at him, desperately wanting to deny what had happened and
yet discerning a ring of truth in the two vampires’ convoluted tangle
of lies, "William, I can hardly take it all in. Can we tell Buffy about
this? She wanted the truth, but did she want *this* truth? How will she
ever deal with it?"

"Can we not tell her?" he argued gently. "She’s going to ask. Can you
conceal what we’ve learned in the face of her straightforward
questions?"

She shook her head as tears brimmed in her eyes, "No. I just--don’t
know if I can tell her all of this."

"We must, if she truly wants to know," he told her. "You’ll be there
for her. We’ll help her through it."

"And there’s still the possibility that it may not be true," she added,
though she clearly held out little hope that that was the case, not
when the evidence seemed so very damning.

"Explain it to her," Simon suggested. "Give her that brooch. Let her
father see it, and she can judge his reaction."

"Yes," she nodded. "We must get back to London as quickly as possible."

The blonde vampire was thinking precisely the same thing, though for
entirely different reasons. He realized it was only a matter of time
before Giles must tell Buffy exactly what she was. If Angelus’ plan
were to succeed, they needed to reveal the long-held secrets that her
father had so carefully kept from her. His sire was a master of the
human mind, and by the time Giles could explain to Buffy what her
destiny was, Angelus would poison that young woman’s mind against her
father.

Whether Giles could manage to convince Belinda that Joyce Summers had
actually died in ashes rather than blood, it would no longer matter.
The truth that he had destroyed the slayer’s mother--in whatever
form--and had lied about it all of these years, would be heinous to the
young woman. The hate she would feel toward Giles, and the council he
represented, would grow into murderous loathing after Angelus
eventually turned her. It was no wonder that, once Giles had begun the
secret, he had adamantly refused to uncover it. He had left it buried
for too many years. But it was about to come crawling out of its ugly
grave.

"William, please?" Willow’s pleading voice broke through his thoughts.
"We must return home, at once."

He took her hand and squeezed it gently, "We’ll leave tonight, luv. We
can be in Swansea in a couple of hours, long before midnight. Simon, is
there some way to reach the station there and arrange for a train to
take us straight on to London?"

"A windowless birth?" the vampire suggested, excusing the need for such
arrangements by adding, "You’ll be able to sleep during the journey
that way. Go back to your hotel. I’ll have a carriage pick you up there
and drive you directly to the station in Swansea. I’ll wire on ahead
and make the arrangements."

"Excellent," Spike nodded. "We’ll be in London by tomorrow evening."

He followed Willow out of the house, and she started across the lawn as
he stopped to speak quietly to Simon, "You’ve done very well. If you or
your master are ever in London, seek us out. Angelus and I will see
that you are rewarded most handsomely for your assistance tonight."

"That isn’t necessary, sir," Simon smiled. "Just to have aided you and
your sire and to have had the privilege of meeting your future mate is
reward enough. Safe journey."

"Thank you," Spike smiled and started down the steps and across the
lawn after his little redhead, who was struggling though the grass.
 
 

PART 21
Drusilla angrily stomped down the stairs and into the dark sitting room
in the Belgravia mansion. Earlier that day, Angelus had received word
that Spike and Willow were on a train, heading back to London. They
would be here in only a few short hours, but it couldn’t be quickly
enough for the dark-haired beauty. Since Spike and his redhead had left
London on Friday, her sire had spent every evening wooing the loathsome
slayer and ingratiating himself to the idiotic watcher.

She flounced over to the settee and snatched up Miss Edith before
flinging herself down and curling her hands in a death grip around the
doll’s torso. The cryptic message sent from the master in Swansea had
read simply, "Success. Arrival in London nine o’clock Monday night." At
that news, Angelus had been in a celebratory mood and had taken
Drusilla to his bed, where they had remained, though not slept, until
just before dark. She had not spent an entire day basking in her sire’s
amorous attentions since they had left Ireland, but the pleasant
numbness still tingling between her legs was overshadowed by the last
word from his lips as he left the house at sunset, "Buffy."

Dru growled and lifted the doll up to scowl at her porcelain face, "I
don’t care if it has to be done. I hate her. He kissed her last night.
The slayer’s stench was all over him. Does he think I don’t know that
he wants her as more than a plaything? He’s *mine*. My Angelus. Not
hers. Never hers."

She tossed the doll aside and stood up, "Yes, my pet, we must be
careful. He shall not have her blood. That will be mine. But I mustn’t
harm the little slayer before time. Angelus would be very angry if I
ruined his pretty plans."

She picked up Miss Edith and walked to the fireplace, turning her back
to the flames and hugging the doll close as she whispered very softly,
"The stars sing to me, my sweet. He will take her away. Far away from
this dirty old city. We shall follow him, then. We shall follow my
Angelus and my Spike and his enchanting little redhead. And then, Miss
Edith, I will taste of the slayer. We shall bathe beneath the moon. We
shall bathe in her blood. The country is so lovely; don’t you agree, my
pet?"
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Angelus hired a cab to meet his childe and Willow at the train station
and then took them on to Willow’s home. He and Spike waited in the
parlor while the redhead went up to her bedroom to change into fresh
clothes. The blonde vampire handed his sire a glass of wine and arched
a quizzical eyebrow at the satisfied grin on the darker vampire’s face.

"You’ve become very close," Angelus stated, obviously pleased. "Willow
may have spent the last quarter of an hour sputtering about sharing a
birth with you, but she really wasn’t all that put out."

Spike grinned and dropped down into the armchair opposite him, "We
shared a bed in the hotel in Wales, as well, but it isn’t what you’re
thinking."

His sire nearly choked on his wine, "You haven’t taken her, yet? You
must have been virtually on top of the chit in that cramped little
birth. What’s wrong with you, boy?"

"She did a fair bit of squirming, which did little to sustain my
forbearance," the blonde vampire chuckled. "And her lips are pure
nectar. But she isn’t ready for anything more just yet. Besides, it’s
wiser to wait until we’ve started the tear between the slayer and her
father."

"I agree," Angelus nodded. "Tell me what you discovered before your
vixen returns."

"I’ll tell you the truth of the matter, but I’ll save the story that
Simon and I fabricated for the slayer until Willow relates it to her,"
Spike offered. "That should lend you the appropriate air of surprise."

"Simon?" his sire inquired.

"The minion that the master in Swansea sent after us," Spike answered
and then went on to detail his experience in the small Welsh village
and the secret that had played out there nearly two decades before.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Buffy raised a trembling hand and brushed away a tear from her face as
Willow finished telling her the story that Simon had related to her.

"Buffy," the redhead whispered and dropped down beside her, taking her
friend’s hand in her own.

"I insisted that I wanted to know, didn’t I?" she asked in a mixture of
grief and regret.

"Perhaps we shouldn’t have told you," Spike apologized.

She shook her head, "No. I would rather know the truth--ugly as it may
be--than to live under the comfortable pretense that my father--is he
that, though? Can I even call him that now? Willow, how can we be
certain that this Simon person was telling you the truth?"

"There really isn’t much evidence to support his story," she admitted.
"But that house was very obviously just as it had been left when Mr.
Giles supposedly fled with you. With the gossip that swirled about that
estate, no one ever ventured onto those grounds after that
night. Everything is still there. He must have left in a terrible
hurry, and no one has seen Joyce Summers since then. And then, we
have--"

"What?" the young slayer pressed her when the redhead faltered. "Is
there something more?"

Willow nodded and stood to look over at Spike, who retrieved the cameo
from his pocket and handed it to her.

"This belonged to your mother," the redhead explained, passing it on to
Buffy. "Simon’s father said he found it lying in the grass near the
carriage after Mr. Giles--carried the body away."

"She was wearing it? That night?"

"So he said," she nodded. "I realize you wouldn’t recognize it, but
perhaps your father would?"

Buffy ran her fingertips over the cameo’s etched portrait and the
delicate gold filigree that framed the coral shell, and her eyes
suddenly hardened as she looked up at Willow, "It’s been more than
secrets, hasn’t it? He’s been lying to me. All these years, he led me
to
believe that my mother died of an illness. That he was my father. That
he mourned the passing of his beloved wife to the point that he
couldn’t bear to speak of it. Do you know how many times, in my
childhood, I would see him drift away inside himself? I thought he
was reliving happy memories of her. Perhaps missing her once again,
grieving over her. All those times, all those years, he wasn’t
remembering her life; he was remembering her murder! At his hands!
Retracing it in his mind even while he was raising her daughter!"

Willow’s worried eyes darted over to Angelus as the young blonde’s
voice began to rise in pitch. The vampire moved quickly out of his
chair and sat down at Buffy’s side. He hooked an arm around her
shoulders and pulled her close against him, and she struggled to regain
her composure.

"It’s all right, love," he whispered close to her ear and placed a
gentle kiss on her temple. "You’re not alone."

"I know," she sniffled and nodded her head against his chest. "I’m not
hysterical; honestly I’m not. I’m confused, and I’m hurt. But mostly,
I’m angry. How could he have lied to me--such ghastly lies--all these
years? I’ve always thought him to be a good man, a kind man. I’ve
admired him. Loved him. Respected him and looked up to him. How *could*
he be so completely opposite from everything I’ve ever believed him to
be? I can’t--I just can’t take it in."

"Perhaps he isn’t," Willow said. "Buffy, we’ve only Simon’s word for
what happened. He’s a complete stranger to all of us. He could very
well be the one who’s lying."

"For what purpose?" she hissed. "What could he possibly gain by
creating such a despicable story? That doesn’t make any more sense than
trying to reconcile my opinion of my--my--father--to what he now
appears to be."

"Even so," Angelus pretended to take up Willow’s point. "You must give
him the chance to explain for himself."

"Oh, I will," she determined, pulling away from him and opening the
clasp on the brooch to pin it onto her blouse. "If he knew her so well,
he’ll surely recognize this. It’s one of the finest I’ve ever seen. It
must have been very precious to her. Perhaps it was even a gift from my
real father. She must have worn it often."

"Possibly," he nodded. "Would you like us to wait with you?"

"Please," she answered. "He’s gone out to a meeting, but he promised he
wouldn’t be too late. If you could stay with me, at least until he
returns--"

"Longer than that, if you like," Angelus promised and curled his
fingers around the trembling hand she placed in his cool, steady one.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Giles stopped at the door to check his pocket watch before exiting the
council member’s home in which they had just met. The hour had passed
quickly, and he dreaded returning to his home, to his daughter. The
council had insisted that he could no longer keep from Buffy her
identity as the slayer. Objectively, he had had to agree with the
council and had promised that he would sit down and explain it to her
fully and completely tomorrow morning.

However, subjectively, he was not looking forward to that conversation,
to darkening her bright future with the knowledge of what she was, with
the soberingly deadly duties that knowledge carried. From the day he
had first set eyes on Belinda, he had been preparing himself for this
moment, but he had never taken similar steps to prepare the young
woman. Part of him was glad he had been able to keep that burden from
her for as long as possible, but another part hated having to drop it
upon her now, so very suddenly.

There would be months of training, of educating her about the evils she
must war against for the rest of her existence. And as if that daunting
prospect weren’t enough, he would then have to uproot her from the only
home she had ever known and sail with her, thousands of miles away, to
a country which she had never set foot upon to make a new life, a new
home for herself. And that new home would be situated in one of the
most
dangerous locations--the Hellmouth in Boston. His daughter’s life was
about to be turned on its head, and though, logically, he knew it was
not his fault, he still couldn’t help feeling unreasonably responsible.

Too tired and too preoccupied with his thoughts to walk the gas-lit
path home, he hailed a hansom cab and rode across town. When the butler
opened the door to him, he shrugged off his coat and handed it over,
peering curiously along the foyer at the closed sitting room door,
behind which he could clearly hear voices.

"Miss Summers has visitors," the butler said and excused himself.

"At this hour?" Giles asked before he realized he was speaking to
himself, and he headed across the floor and opened the door on the
brightly lit room.

Buffy arose from her place next to Angelus on the settee and watched
with stony interest as Giles’ eyes fell upon the cameo clasped above
her left breast. His face blanched, and his lips moved, though no sound
issued forth, and the young woman crossed her arms and stared back at
him.

"So, you *do* recognize it," her voice was perilously low and even.
"The next question is, do you recall the last time you laid eyes upon
it?"

Willow shifted uneasily at Spike’s side near the fireplace, and he
moved his hand around to lie gently against the small of her back.
Giles’ breathed in slowly, trying to calm his rattled mind, and shifted
his gaze to the other occupants in the room.

"If you don’t mind seeing yourselves out, I need to speak with my
daughter privately."

Angelus cast a questioning look at Buffy, and she nodded slightly and
dropped her hand to catch his. He raised her hand to his lips, his eyes
riveted on hers in a silent declaration of support, before stepping
away. Giles moved aside, and Willow and Spike followed the tall vampire
out to the foyer, and the door closed quietly behind them.
 
 

PART 22
Willow was awakened by a gentle jostling against her elbow. Her eyelids
fluttered open to find the light in the room turned up and Mary, the
parlor maid, hovering over the bed, her uniform slightly less tidy than
normal.

"Miss Willow," her soft voice spoke urgently. "It’s Miss Giles.
Downstairs. I’m sorry to disturb you, but Phillips insisted. Miss Giles
seems in a right state."

The redhead scrambled out of the bed and stuffed her feet into her
slippers as Mary held out her robe for her.

"What time is it Mary?" she asked around a yawn.

"Nearly two o’clock, Miss," the slender maid answered.

"Oh, my heavens! She hasn’t walked all the way over here at this time
of night!"

"No, Miss. She arrived in her father’s carriage, but she sent it away
again," she explained and scurried over to the door to open it. "I’m
sorry for my appearance, Miss Willow. Only, I was just getting into bed
when Phillips knocked on my door and told me to hurry and wake you."

"It’s all right, Mary," Willow shook her head. "Do you think you could
make us some tea and bring it up to the parlor before you go back to
bed?"

"I don’t mind waiting--"

"No, that won’t be necessary. Just a nice hot pot of tea."

"Of course, Miss," Mary nodded smartly and quickened her steps to keep
up with the redhead as she hurried down the stairs.

Buffy was standing beside the visibly uncomfortable butler, and Willow
took one look at her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks and drew her
best friend into a comforting hug.

"That will be all, Phillips," she spoke over Buffy’s shoulder. "You may
retire for the night."

"Yes, Miss," he responded and turned to leave through the below-stairs
door.

Willow drew away from Buffy, gently holding her by the arms, "What’s
happened? Your father?"

The young blonde nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but a soft sob
caught in her throat, and the tears began to flow once again.

"Oh, Buffy," the redhead whispered. "It must have been dreadful. We
shouldn’t have left you there with him. Was he angry? Did he try to
deny it? Did he threaten--"

She shook her head and mumbled, "No. No. He told me...he said...oh,
Will...I can’t. I just...can’t."

"Shhh," Willow hushed her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders and
guided her toward the stairs. "Come upstairs. We’ll sit down, and you
can--"

"I can’t," Buffy refused as she allowed the redhead to urge her
footsteps along. "I can’t talk about it now. Not tonight. I can’t--"

"All right. It’s all right. It’s late, and you’re exhausted. Will you
stay here tonight?"

"Yes, please," she whispered gratefully.

"Come along. I’ll take you to the guestroom right next to mine. Shall
I sit with you for awhile?" Willow offered as they continued on up to
the bedrooms on the third floor.

No," Buffy shook her head. "I need to be alone. Just for tonight."

"Of course. Shall I have Mary bring a cup of tea up to you?"

"Yes. I’d like that," the slayer sniffled and nodded as they stopped
outside the bedroom door. "Thank you, Will."

"Don’t be silly," she smiled softly, leading her inside. "I’d do
anything in the world for you, just as you would for me. You know that.
I’ll bring you a nightgown, and then you can crawl into bed. I won’t
wake you in the morning. You just sleep in as late as you’d like."

"Willow," Buffy rasped out the word, halting the redhead who was
turning away and pulling her back into a tight hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Willow whispered. "Wait right here. I’ll be back in
a moment."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow smiled warmly as the dining room door opened and Buffy entered,
fully dressed, but not looking fully rested. The redhead motioned for
her to sit at the table and poured a cup of coffee for her.

"I slept in, too," Willow said, waving a hand at the food on the table.
"I haven’t quite decided whether this is a late breakfast or an early
lunch. Are you hungry?"

"Not really. I look wretched, don’t I? Mary drew me a lovely, hot bath,
but I haven’t even a change of clothes with me. And I can’t go back
home. I’m certain that Father knows where I am, but--I can’t go back
there. I’m not ready to--to--"

"I’m sure we can find something suitable here. We’re very nearly the
same size, and mother has some dresses tucked away in her room. Mary’s
a wonder with a needle and thread, you know," Willow smiled
reassuringly and reached for Buffy’s hand. "What happened last night?
Can you tell me?"

"I don’t know. I laid awake most of the night, trying to sort it out in
my mind. It’s too horrible, to unreal. I’m not at all sure I even know
how to explain it to you," she raised her eyes to her friend’s.
"Willow, do you know what I’d really like to do?"

"Whatever it is, I’ll help any way that I can."

"I know you will," she smiled for the first time since she had arrived
on Willow’s doorstep. "Do you think William would mind terribly if we
called on him this morning?"

"You’d like to have us all present when you explain?" Willow guessed,
and Buffy nodded. "I think that’s a very good idea. I’m certain he
won’t mind. I’ll ring for Phillips to fetch the carriage while we find
something for you to wear."

"All right," she accepted and rose to follow after the redhead. "I
think all of you should hear this, since you all helped me find the
answers--even if those answers aren’t anything I ever expected to hear.
And to borrow some of your signature frankness, I really want to be
with Angelus right now. He helps me to--I don’t know--think clearly, I
suppose."

"He does have a way of putting things into perspective," Willow agreed
with a smile. "You go on up to my room while I ring for Phillips, and
I’ll have him send Mary up to us, as well."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It was well past noon by the time they had found a suitable blouse and
skirt for Buffy and had ridden the short distance to the mansion in
Belgravia. Willow placed a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder as
the young blonde waited nervously beside her on the doorstep. The door
was opened by the same minion who had greeted Willow on her previous
visit, and he immediately invited the two women inside.

"We’d like a word with Mr. Randall," the redhead said. "If he’s
sleeping, please wake him. It’s important."

He nodded and showed them into the morning room, and Buffy looked over
at her as the minion left them. "Wake him? At this hour?"

"He’s a late sleeper," Willow grinned, then gasped a brought a hand to
her mouth. "Oh, dear! I didn’t explain to you our arrangement in Wales,
did I? I mean...we slept together...No!...it wasn’t as if...that is, we
*literally* slept togeth...we didn’t...oh, gracious..."

Buffy had never seen her friend so flustered, and she giggled softly,
eliciting a blushing groan from the redhead, who immediately
surrendered the awkward topic. Buffy squeezed her hand fondly, and they
waited, alternately gazing around the exquisitely furnished room and
sharing quiet exchanges of meaningless, much more comfortable
conversation, until the door finally opened, and William stepped into
the room.

"Willow," he smiled. "What a welcome surprise. Good morning, Miss
Giles."

"I wish you would address me as Buffy," she responded. "After all we’ve
been through together, I feel as if we’re old friends."

"I agree, Buffy," he nodded. "Now, what can I do for you? Or did you
simply stop by to do me the pleasure of gracing my morning room with
your presence?"

Suddenly uncertain, Buffy hesitated, and Willow quickly spoke for her,
"Is Angelus available? We’ve really come to speak with both of you."

"He’s upstairs, tending to some correspondence," the vampire lied, not
wishing to explain that they both slept during the daytime. "I’ll ring
for--the butler--and have Angelus sent down. May I offer you something?
Is it too early for wine?"

"A bit," Willow nodded.

"Some tea, perhaps," Buffy requested, silently hoping it would soothe
her fluttering nerves.

"Of course," he nodded and reached for the bell pull beside the
fireplace.

The minion appeared almost instantaneously, and Spike stepped just
outside the doorway to give the younger vampires his orders. Buffy
arose from her place beside Willow on the settee, discreetly leaving
that spot vacant for the blonde vampire, as she casually wandered
about the large room. Willow shot her a look, and Buffy smiled slyly at
her as William returned and immediately sat down next to the redhead.

"This is a beautiful house, William. Oh, may I be so familiar?" Buffy
asked, slightly embarrassed.

"You had better," he smiled, though he couldn’t help noticing the young
woman’s unease. "If I’m to address you as Buffy. I’m assuming this
visit has something to do with the conversation with your father last
night. Is everything all right?"

"Not really," she sighed, her voice trembling slightly. "But if you
don’t mind, I’d rather wait for Angelus. I don’t think I can explain
this more than once."

"I don’t mind at all," he assured her and gave Willow a questioning
look.

She shrugged her shoulders and smiled sadly, and he reached for her
hand and settled it on his lap. A moment later, a female minion
appeared, carrying a tea tray which she set down on the table in front
of the settee before quickly leaving once again.

"May I?" Willow offered as she reached for the teapot, and William
nodded.

Buffy had just taken the armchair facing the couple and accepted the
cup the redhead handed to her when Angelus opened the door and strode
into the room. His gaze immediately went to the young blonde woman. Her
eyes were heavy-lidded from hours of crying the night before, and she
looked as though the slightest fright would send her scurrying for
cover. He crossed over to her and raised her free hand to brush his
lips softly against it.

"What’s happened? You don’t look at all well, love."

"I’m fine, honestly," she smiled weakly up at him. "I’m just--shocked,
confused. I don’t know what I am."

Angelus perched on the arm of her chair and put his arm around her
shoulder, "This is to do with last night, isn’t it? That talk with your
father? Tell us what happened, Buffy. Perhaps we can help."

"Oh, I hope so. He was speechless when I explained to him how I came to
possess my mother’s brooch. Of course, he had no idea that Willow and
William had traveled to Wales, and he was horrified by the story they’d
heard there. He said that he at least should have told me about both of
my parents’ deaths before I learned it from somebody else. I’m certain
he never dreamt that that would have happened, but Willow, he was most
adamant that what you had been told was a lie. He couldn’t understand
why that man--Simon--would have told you such a story," she said and
then haltingly repeated Rupert Giles’ explanation of what had truly
transpired that night at the Summers’ estate.

By the time she had finished, the cup of tea in Willow’s hands had
grown cold, and the redhead mechanically set it down on the table, her
eyes riveted on her childhood friend.

"Vampires?" she said. "Mr. Giles actually told you that vampires
attacked your family?"

Buffy nodded, "He insisted that they had killed my father--my real
father--and they turned my mother. That’s how he phrased it. They made
her one of them after they killed my father."

"Is he mad? He doesn’t really mean for you to believe such an
outlandish story!" the redhead cried.

"He has books--all sorts of books--locked away in a room above the
bedrooms," she told her. "He showed them to me. That’s what he does. He
researches vampires and demons and such. At first, I thought he was
joking, but I swear, Will, everything is so well documented."

"You *do* believe him!" Willow remarked. "All right. Even if what he
told you is true, why would vampires attack your family? Why would they
go to all that effort to get to you, as your father insists?"

Buffy looked down at the trembling hands her lap, "I don’t know if I
should tell you. You’ll think I’m insane, or that he is. Maybe he *is*.
He sounded so convincing. He said this is what he and his associates
do. They’re not really government officials. In fact, their activities
are kept in the strictest of secrecy."

"You’re not making sense, love," Angelus said gently.

She shook her head sadly, and the others could see she was fighting
back tears. "None of this makes sense. The vampires in Wales wanted to
kill me. My father--Rupert Giles, I mean--was sent to protect me
because I’m a slayer. That’s what he called me. A slayer."

"A slayer of...what? Vampires?" Willow asked.

Buffy nodded, "And demons, and I don’t know what else. He said it’s my
duty. That I was born to this destiny. He called the group of men that
he works with ‘the council.’ They assist the slayer, and one of them is
assigned specifically to the slayer--a watcher, he called it--to help
research demons who pose immediate dangers, to train her to slay them,
to give her guidance and advice. That’s why he was the one sent to find
me, because he’s my watcher."
 
 

PART 23
Willow sat back against the cushions on the settee and released a deep
breath, "It’s no wonder you were so upset when you arrived on my
doorstep last night."

"The worst part of all is that he made it sound as if I have no
choice!" Buffy told them. "The girl who was the slayer while I was
growing up was killed several months ago, and I’m supposed to take her
place. My nights are to be occupied with roaming the streets of London
to search out vampires--and heaven knows what else--and destroy them.
He said I’m to begin my training here, and then in a few weeks, we’ll
be sailing to Boston."

"You’re leaving London?" Angelus asked as if this were news to him.

"Is that what *you* want?" Spike added.

"Apparently, what I want doesn’t matter!" the young woman spat and
pushed herself up onto her feet to pace the room restlessly. "Eighteen
years ago, my father was murdered by vampires, according to Rupert
Giles. Then *he* killed my mother, dragged me back to London, and
fabricated a pack of lies which he calls my childhood!"

Willow attempted to rise from her seat and go to her confused and
distraught friend, but Spike stopped her with an arm around her waist
and a quick shake of his head. This was exactly the reaction he and his
sire had anticipated, and he did not want his redhead to spoil it now.

"I wanted so much not to believe him, but he was so convincing. These
are learned men, Willow. The council is not a group of senile old
cronies. My father had journals and letters and hundreds of papers.
What sort of reaction could he have imagined I would have to all of
this? I’m quite certain he didn’t expect me to run out of the room. He
tried to stop me, but I wouldn’t let him. I ran down the back stairs to
the kitchen and ordered the footman to bring the carriage around to the
servants’ entrance. I was on my way to you before my father even
realized I had left the house," Buffy continued. "I hate him, Will! I
hate that he lied to me. I hate that I’ve called him my father, and
loved him as such, for all these years. I hate that, after everything
he’s done, he has the audacity to tell me what I *must* do now."

"What do *you* want to do?" Willow asked softly.

Buffy sighed and turned to look grimly at her, "I don’t know. I can’t
think here. I want to leave London. I want to get as far away from him
and his lies and his precious council as possible."

Angelus glanced anxiously at Spike. This was not the result the vampire
wanted at all. He was on the very brink of pulling the slayer forever
away from the watcher and his group. But now, she was talking of
running away. He could not lose her to such an act of despair. Spike
stood and moved to the liquor cart across the room under the guise of
pouring the two ladies a brandy, and his sire followed after him.

"We *cannot* let this happen," the elder vampire hissed softly. "If she
flees from the council, she may very well flee from us, as well. She
may go off on her own, rethink the entire situation, and finally side
with the council after all. Our plans will be ruined."

"Not necessarily," his childe replied quietly. "Willow has spoken once
or twice of an estate in the country, far enough away from London to
give Buffy the distance she needs. And we would have the advantage of
knowing where she is."

Angelus shook his head, "It isn’t good enough. I want more than to know
where she is. I must be with her, Spike. I must be close enough to
continue to influence her."

"Well, then, if we’re clever enough, we may just find ourselves in the
country, as well," Spike grinned and picked up the two glasses of
brandy.

"Buffy, you can’t run off on your own," Willow was saying as the
vampires returned. "Where would you go? I’d be so worried for you!"

"I wouldn’t want that. I trust you as I trust no one else, Will," the
slayer responded sincerely. "But what else can I do? You didn’t hear
how adamant my fath--Mr. Giles--was last night. The entire council is
here in London! They’ll never let me be. I must get away."

"Then I’m going with you," the redhead determined.

"You can’t do that. I’d never ask that of you," Buffy smiled sadly.

"You didn’t ask. I offered. I will not let you leave by yourself. It
simply isn’t safe to--"

"May I offer a suggestion?" Spike interrupted.

"Please do," Buffy pleaded.

"Willow, didn’t you tell me you’ve an estate in Cambridgeshire?"

"Of course!" she gasped, looking at him as though he were the most
brilliant of men. "Why didn’t I think of that myself? That would be
perfect. Buffy, my parents will be traveling abroad for months, so
there’s no fear that the house will be occupied. The estate is kept
staffed. Our sudden arrival shouldn’t cause too many difficulties."

"But wouldn’t Mr. Giles think to look there?" Angelus asked.

"I don’t know why he should. At most, my parents only go there once or
twice a year, and I never go with them. I may have mentioned to Mr.
Giles in passing that we’ve a country estate, but he’s never made a
point of asking where it’s located. He’s never been there, and I’m
certain he doesn’t know where it is."

"If you booked train passage to somewhere else--Scotland, perhaps--you
could travel to Cambridgeshire in my carriage," Spike offered. "There’d
be no means to trace your movements that way. And we could compensate
the staff there for their discretion."

Buffy was looking hopefully from the vampire to the redhead, and
Angelus threw out one more consideration, "I’m not at all comfortable
with two lovely, young women residing alone in a house in the country.
I would only agree to this scheme if William and I are welcome to stay
there with you."

The slayer shook her head emphatically, "Wouldn’t that be incredibly
improper?"

"Why should we concern ourselves with propriety?" Willow argued. "After
all you’ve been through, you shouldn't even have to give thought to
such matters."

"I’d expect as much from *you*," Buffy teased. "But I--"

"Do you still have my wedding band, pet?" Spike asked the redhead.

"Wedding band!" Buffy squealed. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Willow giggled, "We were Mr. and Mrs. Randall in Wales. Just to avoid
any gossip, mind you."

"Oh, absolutely," the slayer replied dryly.

"But it worked," her friend argued. "It could certainly work again. No
one there knows you, and it’s been so long since I traveled to the
estate, I could have married and tossed aside half a dozen husbands,
and no one there would be any the wiser."

The slayer blushed warmly and admonished the redhead, "I swear, Willow
Rosenberg--"

"You shouldn’t," she grinned.

"It’s most unladylike," Spike added, much to Willow’s amusement.

"What *are* you two on about?" Buffy demanded.

"Never mind," her friend laughed. "But if the thought of feigning
marriage upsets you too greatly, I’m certain we could forgo that bit of
the plan. Father’s servants are always marvelously blind. And as
William suggested, we can compensate them handsomely for their silence.
I suppose I do feel a bit guilty knowing that Cordy and Xander will
worry, but perhaps we can get word to them before we leave that you and
I have gone away, but we’ll be perfectly safe. They'll keep it in
confidence if we ask them to do so. What do you say, Buffy?"

She looked at each of them in turn, and finally nodded her consent,
"But my clothing--"

"Is your father at home this afternoon?" Willow asked.

Buffy grimaced, "He’s meeting with the council. He informed me last
night that I was to attend with him. Do you think they will have
postponed it now?"

"We’ll drive to your house. You wait in my carriage while I inquire at
the door. If he isn’t there, we can pack some of your clothing and tell
the servants you’re staying with me for a few days. If he is there,
I’ll simply leave straightaway, and we’ll have to make other
arrangements."

"If you should have any problems, come directly back here," Angelus
suggested. "If we haven’t heard from you, we’ll come for both of you at
Willow’s house at eight o’clock. That should give all of us adequate
time to prepare."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Having encountered surprisingly few complications, the vampires and the
ladies headed north out of London just after eight o’clock. Nearly an
hour had passed before Buffy finally gave into exhaustion, made herself
as comfortable as possible on the other end of the carriage seat that
she was sharing with Angelus, and fell asleep. Willow, having spent
enough time in close proximity to Spike to feel comfortable there,
simply allowed him to pull her close against his shoulder where she,
too, drifted off. It was then that the blonde vampire finally gave
voice to the worry that had been niggling at his mind since they had
left London.

"We’re being followed," he spoke softly to his sire.

Angelus leaned his head out the window and listened for the sound of
cab wheels in the distance before responding, "Not any longer."

Spike looked curiously at him, "Are you certain? Whoever it is has been
following us since we pulled away from Willow’s. They’ve kept just
enough distance between us to convince me that they are trailing us."

"It’s Dru," his sire told him.

"Bloody hell, Angelus. Are you sure?"

He smiled, "She was a little too complaisant when I told her that you
and I would be leaving London for a few days. So, I followed her when I
went out to feed before leaving for Willow’s estate. She made tracks
for one of our cabbies in the city and arranged for him to learn from
our driver where we were headed and to wait for her just down the
street from the mansion."

"And what did our driver tell the cabby?" Spike grinned.

"That we’re headed to Scotland. Edinburg, to be exact. We’ll be at the
Rosenberg’s estate long before Dru ever reaches Scotland. One of our
minions will send word to the clan in Edinburg to keep her occupied
thre for a few days. I reckon it’ll be a week by the time she arrives,
realizes that we aren’t there, and travels back to London," Angelus
said.

Spike chuckled and pulled Willow a little more snugly against him, "And
you know how Dru loves Scotland. She ought to enjoy her little holiday
there."

"Until she discovers that she’s been duped. She’ll be livid by the time
she returns to London," his sire remarked. "But it was either that or
stake her. I won’t allow her to get in the way of our plans."

"You’re going to have to deal with Dru eventually, you know," Spike
replied. "She wants you, Angelus, for herself. That’s all she’s ever
wanted."

"I can’t help that. I’ve engagned in that conversation with Dru too
many times. It does no good. And I mean to have this one," he vowed,
reaching over to brush a fair strand of hair away from the sleeping
slayer’s cheek. "Dru will either subordinate herself to my demands or
suffer the consequences of her refusal."
 
 

PART 24
"I can’t believe that Angelus and William are both still asleep,"
Buffy’s statement pulled Willow’s attention away from the book she was
reading.

The redhead shrugged, "To be fair, it was well past one o’clock by the
time we arrived here. You and I slept during most of the journey, but I
don’t think either one of them did."

"That’s true," the slayer nodded and crossed the room to stare out at
the bright sunshine beyond the windows.

"Would you like to go out for a bit?" Willow suggested. "The lane past
the estate provides a beautiful walk, or we could fetch William’s
footman to drive us into town."

"I’d enjoy a walk. Do you think they’ll worry if they should wake up
and find us gone?"

"We’ll leave them a note. Or better yet, I’ll dash up and tell William
we’ll be out for awhile."

Buffy turned with a sharp intake of breath, "You can’t do that! Send
the butler or the maid!"

"The maid is helping Mrs. Brooks with dinner, and the butler is seeing
to the stocking of the pantry. It’s all right. It won’t take me a
moment."

"But you--" the young blonde’s argument was swept away in a rustle of
long skirts and the sound of Willow’s light footsteps quickly dashing
out of the room and up the stairs.

The redhead stopped outside of Spike’s closed door and rapped twice,
firmly. Receiving no response, she let herself into the bedroom and
moved to the sleeping vampire’s still form.

"William," she spoke softly, not wishing to startle him.

His back was turned to her, but it was obvious that he hadn’t heard her
so she called out more loudly, "William."

Still no response. Willow blew out a sigh of frustration and laid her
hand on his shoulder and shook him, "William!"

Spike’s eyes snapped open with a flash of ambler, and his body
stiffened until he heard her familiar voice speaking to him, "William,
wake up!"

He shoved the demon within him aside and rolled over and, with sleepy
blue eyes, looked up at the redhead, "What is it, pet?"

"Good heavens, you sleep as soundly as the dead," she told him,
receiving a soft chuckle in reply. "I’m sorry to wake you, but Buffy
and I are going out for awhile, and I didn’t want you to wake up and
worry."

"All right, luv," he mumbled, and his eyes fluttered closed.

"Sorry," she giggled. "Go back to sleep."

He nodded and caught her warm hand in his cooler one as she turned to
step away from him. He placed a soft kiss on her palm and gave her hand
a light squeeze before releasing it to turn away from her again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The butler held out a hand to receive the overcoat that Giles shrugged
off his shoulders, and the watcher turned to the man and asked, "Has
there been any word of Belinda?"

"No, sir. I’m sorry," the servant answered soberly. "Is there anything
I can get for you?

"No, thank you," the watcher responded and started up the stairs to the
parlor.

He sat down wearily, his fingers curling around the upholstered arms of
the chair, and gazed over at the needlework that Buffy had left lying
on the end of the settee. He had waited two days, thinking that it
might be prudent to give his daughter some solitude, before finally
calling at Willow’s home. He had been alarmed when the butler there had
told him that the redhead and Belinda had gone away for a few days, and
Giles had immediately arranged to meet with the council.

It had taken still another twenty-four hours to ascertain that the two
women were nowhere in London, had not been transported by Willow’s
footman and carriage, but had, instead, booked train passage to
Scotland. The watcher had berated himself for waiting so long to try to
contact his daughter, but his fellow council members had been very
understanding. Nevertheless, they were no more pleased than Giles was
by the fact that their young slayer had gone missing.

Worried and frustrated, he had taken a cab home by way of Belgravia,
stopping off at William Randall’s house along the way. Without a twinge
of nervousness, the minion who had answered the door explained that
both men were conducting business in the city and would not return
until much later that evening. He assured the watcher that the two
women had not been there, and that neither William nor Angelus had
heard from either of them. The vampire had agreed to Giles’ request to
have one of the men contact him if they should hear from either Willow
or Buffy. The watcher had thanked the minion and then continued on
home.

Giles groaned and stood to wander to the window, though he could see
nothing passing by on the dark street below. Willow, he knew, was a
resourceful young lady and uncommonly independent for one of her age
and station. Her parents’ frequent absences had fostered such
characteristics in the redhead. She was fully capable of handling
almost any situation that was flung at her. Buffy, on the other hand,
had never been left on her own for any extended period of time. And
even when he traveled abroad, there were butlers and servants, and
later Joshua Braddock, to watch over her and keep her from any
responsibilities that were deemed unsuitable for a proper young lady.

"Braddock," Giles hissed the name into the silence of the room. He
regretted ever having introduced that rake to his daughter. He
fleetingly indulged in blaming Joshua for all of the problems that had
occurred since his departure, but the watcher knew that, as much as he
loathed the young man, he wasn’t truly to blame for this current
predicament.

"If only I had told Buffy the truth months ago, before she came upon it
herself," he thought to himself. She had learned of her past and the
future it implicated in a horrendous manner that surpassed even the
watcher’s worst nightmares. He was not, by nature, the sort of man to
dwell on poor choices, but this one plagued his mind.

He removed his spectacles and rubbed a hand over his eyes. There was no
turning back the clock, no way to recall old lies and half-truths, no
way to reword the conversation that had sent his daughter fleeing from
the house four nights ago. The train she had taken from London would
have made stops at several different stations in Scotland, and although
they were trying, it would be nearly impossible to track her there. He
could only hope that, with time, she would work through it for herself,
come to realize he loved her and had wanted only her happiness, and
would return of her own accord to embrace her duties as the slayer. In
the meantime, he was grateful that she had a friend as reliable and
trustworthy as Willow to be with her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Angelus stepped around the side of the Georgian-style manor house to
find Buffy idly fingering one velvety petal of a red rose. The
moonlight cast glittering highlights through her blonde hair as she sat
on the bench beside the rose bush, lost in thought. With a slight
start, she looked up as the vampire approached silently over the lush
green lawn.

"I thought I might find Willow and William out here with you," he said.

"They went for a walk. I fear I’m driving poor Willow to distraction
with my constant complaining about--my situation."

"Nonsense," Angelus smiled and sat down beside her. "She understands.
She cares about you. She wants to help."

"She has--you all have--just by providing me with the means to get away
from London, if only for awhile," Buffy smiled. "It’s lovely here,
isn’t it?"

"Breathtaking," he nodded, his eyes fixed on her.

She blushed prettily and looked away from him.

He smiled at her reaction and asked, "What were you thinking about just
now--before I disturbed you? You seemed so far away."

Buffy shook her head, "Just more of the same. Actually, I was thinking
about Joshua."

He tensed imperceptibly, but forced his tone to remain even, "Do you
still miss him?"

"Not really. I’ve come to accept what he really is. I’m just fortunate
to have discovered it before we were wed."

"Had he mentioned marriage you to? I wasn’t aware of it."

"Not in so many words, but I feel that he intended to, soon," she
responded with a sad smile "I’ve been thinking about him. Though he
never explicitly said so, looking back on it now, I have the distinct
impression that Joshua was an associate of my father--Mr. Giles. Do you
realize what that means?"

The vampire had known for some time exactly what that young man had
been, but he paused for a moment and appeared to be considering the
questions before answering, "Joshua Braddock is a member of the
council."

She nodded, "Mr. Giles said that the council has known the truth of my
past all of these years, and they agreed with his decision to keep it
from me. Joshua must have known Mr. Giles’ secrets all this time. He
would have known all of the time we were seeing one another. Is that
why he courted me, Angelus? Was he trying to win me over for the
council’s sake?"

"I’d like to be able to say that’s nonsense, as well," he remarked
softly.

"But you can’t," Buffy added. "Because you know as well as I do that it
must be true. I must confess, I hadn’t given it any consideration
before this. I was so upset about everything else. Was he using me? Was
I nothing more than a means to an end for Joshua? I feel like such a
fool."

Angelus groaned and reached for her hand, "You mustn’t, Buffy. You
weren’t to know."

She shook her head, "And my fath--Mr. Giles! How could he do that to
me? How could he place me in such a position?"

The vampire noted the anger shimmering behind the tears in her eyes and
gently stoked it, "Do you think Mr. Giles did not have your best
interests at heart?"

"How can I think anything else?" she scowled. "I can just imagine him,
sitting around a table with all of his stuffy council members, plotting
the best way to gain my favor. Shuffling my name between them until
Joshua finally raised his hand and said, ‘I’ll do it.’"

Angelus literally bit his lip to keep himself from laughing out loud at
the mental picture she had created, and the little blonde continued on,
her indignation growing by the minute, "What do you suppose they
offered him in return? Money? Position? I’m nothing more than chattel
to the man who calls himself my father!"

"Stop that," he demanded, taking her by the shoulders and turning him
to face her. "I will not allow you to speak of yourself in that
manner."

"But it’s true," she insisted as a tear spilled down her cheek. "My
father--Mr. Giles--must have known that I would find out, eventually.
He could hardly have kept it from me after he’d drawn me into the
council. I would have discovered that Joshua was one them, and I would
have worked it out for myself, then. My feelings--my
reaction--*couldn’t* have mattered to any of them, or they never would
have entered into such an agreement."

"I’m sorry, Buffy," Angelus said.

She smiled sadly as he reached out a hand to caress the tear from her
cheek, "I’m not certain that I ever want to return to London. I don’t
know if I can. But Willow--I’ve no right to tear
her life apart over this. I’m so confused and angry, Angelus. I don’t
know which way to
turn."

He slid closer to her and pulled her against his chest, "We’ve only
been here a week. There’s no need to decide anything yet, is there?
Give yourself time. I’m here for you, love. I’ll help in any way that
I’m able."

"Thank you," she turned her face to his, and he cupped her warm cheek
in his hand and lowered his mouth to hers to kiss her softly.

He drew away and rose to stand before her, extending a hand to her,
"Shall we go in? Dinner will be served soon. Perhaps Willow and William
have returned by now."

She nodded and slipped her hand into his, and they made their way
slowly back toward the manor house. From the boundary of the estate,
several yards away, a slender figure stepped out of the shadows of the
trees and watched the couple as they disappeared through the door, and
it closed behind them.
 
 

PART 25
Spike and Angelus had waited until their human companions had retired
for the evening before slipping out of the house to take the carriage
into town. The sun had set hours ago, and except for a few drunkards
and a baker who had left his rooms above his shop to wander the
desolate town in a fit of insomnia, the streets were quiet and empty.
The bells in a church tower chimed the hour, two o’clock, as the blonde
vampire dropped the remains of his dinner into a ditch and left to
search out his sire. He discovered the vampire lurking about in the
narrow mews beside a small pub that had just closed its doors for the
night.

"You’ve fed," Angelus remarked upon seeing his childe.

Spike nodded, noting the subtle tone of urgency in the darker vampire’s
voice, "But you haven’t. What’s wrong?"

"Drusilla has found us," he answered grimly. "I came upon the remains
of her meal in a vacant field just outside of town. Her scent was all
over the corpse."

"Bloody hell," Spike hissed. "We have to find her, Angelus."

"The kill was fresh. I don’t know how long she’s been here or whether
she’s had the opportunity to locate the estate. Take the carriage back
to the house and stay with the ladies. I’m going to attempt to track
down Dru. I’ll be back before sunrise. Hurry, Spike. Buffy and Willow
must not be alone."

His childe nodded and crept out of the dark mews and made quick tracks
for the carriage they had left on the opposite end of town. With a
scowl of worried consternation, Angelus set off in the opposite
direction, back toward the lot where he had first sensed Drusilla.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The torrent of rain outside the morning room windows drowned out the
sun and splattered noisily against the glass. Despite the late morning
hour, the room was shrouded in heavy shadows, and the maid had laid up
a fire to illuminate the room and to dispel the chill that lingered in
the air.

Spike paced to and fro in front of the crackling fire in the cavernous
fireplace. Angelus had not returned to the estate by the time the
blonde vampire had gone to bed just before dawn, neither had he been in
his room when Spike awoke a few hours later. He knew his sire was
certainly smart enough to have found find shelter for himself when the
sun threatened to rise, but with the added threat of Drusilla lurking
about, somewhere, last night, Spike couldn’t help feeling uneasy over
Angelus’ absence.

He had no doubt that the beautiful dark-haired vampire would have been
furious when she discovered she had been led on a futile chase to
Scotland. She had obviously wasted no time in ascertaining their true
location, and he shuddered to think what she had done to the minions in
the mansion back in Belgravia in order to force that information out of
them so quickly. She would see her sire’s trickery for exactly what it
was--he had chosen the young slayer over her. And even though Angelus
had every right to either take Drusilla or dismiss her, as he saw fit,
Spike had no delusions that she would step back and obediently accept
his implicit rejection of her.

He turned and scowled hatefully at the greyish light beyond the
windows. Although he was safe enough inside the house, he could not
venture outside in that sunlight, watered down as it may be, to search
for his sire. With a frustrated growl, he went to the table beside one
of the armchairs and helped himself to a cigarette from a small silver
box lying there. Plucking up the heavy lighter that rested beside the
box, he lit the cigarette and returned to the fireplace to resume his
pacing.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Angelus shivered against the damp chill that permeated the coal room
just off the below stairs pantry. Huddled on the floor, his back
pressed against the coal chute, he gazed into the darkness of the
windowless room through eyes red-rimmed and stained from cold, bloody
tears.

He had no idea what time it was, but he knew several hours had passed
since he had waited until Spike had climbed into the carriage and sped
out of town before returning to the lot where he had found Drusilla’s
drained victim. Rigor mortis had not yet set in, and it could not have
been long since she had been here. As he made his way across the weedy
field, he had lost her scent but had found, instead, a small gathering
of humans encamped around a warm, lively fire. One of them, a petite
young female, had foolishly wandered away from the group. He had
stalked her silently until she had put what the vampire deemed to be a
safe distance between herself and the others. Stealing up from behind
her, he clamped a large firm hand over her mouth, wrenched her head to
the side, and sank his fangs into her neck. She had put up a struggle,
and he sank to the ground with her as her knees began to buckle,
holding her hard against him as he continued to drink from her.

Draining her quickly, he withdrew his fangs and looked up to discover
that he was not alone. Two men from her group had come in search of the
child, and they shouted angrily as they came upon the bloody scene.
Fighting the two strangers would cost him precious time in tracking
down Drusilla. Leaping up, he flung the lifeless girl at them, knocking
both of them off of their feet, and turned to run back across the wide
field. As he neared the edge of the lot that bordered the town, he cast
a quick glance behind him and was momentarily surprised to find that
neither of the two men had given chase. He slowed to a walk and turned
his mind back to the matter of Drusilla as he continued on toward the
town just before of him.

No sooner had he set foot on the narrow dirt road than a searing bolt
of pain sent him crashing to his knees. He clawed at his chest as a
strangled gurgle of agony rolled from his dead lungs. Squeezing his
eyes shut, red tears spilled down his pale cheeks as countless
memories of his tortured victims--screams of terror, pleading voices,
bloodless corpses--swirled and tumbled around in his brain like a
crazed whirlpool swirling below a high, deadly waterfall. He pressed
the heels of his palms against his temples and opened his eyes to the
peaceful quietness of the town just before him, but the damning visions
of the hundreds of the bodies he had broken, of the human lives he had
cruelly stolen, would not be denied.

He scrambled up onto unsteady legs and pushed himself forward, forcing
himself, one step at a time, down the High Street, past the town, and
on toward the lane that would take him to the back to the estate. The
sun had just begun to rise over a sky blanketed with angry, dark clouds
as he walked the last steps along the drive toward the manor house. His
thoughts were yet a swirling mass of confusion and, knowing
instinctively that he could not allow Spike to see him in this state,
he had slipped around to the servants’ entrance. The cook had just
entered the kitchen to begin her morning duties, and the vampire
silently entered the tiny anteroom and opened the door to the coal
room, on his immediate left. There, alone and unseen, he crept across
the blackened floor and sank down into his current position, where he
clutched his knees close to his chest and let the newfound feelings of
guilt that had overwhelmed him in that vacant field overtake him again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Spike stopped his pacing as the morning room door opened, and Willow
entered. Tossing the remainder of his cigarette into the fireplace, he
placed his hands gently on her arms as she came to stand before him.

"You’re up early--for you," she teased softly. "Will you eat lunch with
us? The dining room is laid up, and--"

"No, thank you. I...had a late breakfast...sent up to my room," he
answered, which he had, for appearance’s sake, though he had touched
none of the food on his tray.

"All right," she nodded, looking up into his intense blue eyes and
sensing the somberness behind them. "William? Is something wrong?"

His lips curled into a hint of a smile, "No, pet. It’s...just the
rain."

She glanced over at one of the rain-streaked windows, "It is rather
depressing, isn’t it? Are you sure that’s all, though? You seemed
worried, concerned."

Spike put his arms around her and folded her close against him, "Well,
I did warn you that I’m not much for mornings, didn’t I?"

She laughed softly against his chest, "Yes, I suppose you did. Will you
at least have a cup of coffee with us? I’d like to keep you company."

He drew her away slightly and gazed into her eyes, secretly thinking
how very easy it had been to fall in love with the little redhead and
how much he would enjoy sharing eternity with her, "All right, luv. I’d
like that."

"Good," she smiled. "I haven’t seen Angelus this morning, but I could
send the maid to find him and ask him to join us."

"He was still sleeping, when I looked in on his room," the blonde
vampire lied, not wishing to alert her to his sire’s absence unless it
became absolutely necessary. "Let’s not disturb him."

She nodded, and he lowered his mouth to hers, taking her lips in a soft
kiss, before pulling away and escorting her out of the room, one arm
still curled around her slender waist.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
His soul. Angelus did not know why he was so certain that it was his
soul that was prickling his conscience with razor-sharp needles, but
something on a very primal, instinctive level assured him that,
somehow, that human entity that had fled him to be replaced by the
demon from the moment he had been turned, had been restored to him last
night. He had been far from a benevolent, morally upright human being.
His wanton lust for women, his penchant for the sadistic, had been
well-known even when he was alive, and it had been these
characteristics, magnified a thousand-fold, that had helped shape him
into the feared and respected vampire he had become. But in spite of
being what many
would--in fact, had--judged to be a depraved, reprehensible man, he had
never been a murderer.

Ironically, the soul which now inhabited his undead body, seemed to
have an even greater clarity of perception than it had possessed when
he had been alive. The countless lives he had shattered and stolen
screamed silent curses of condemnation at the tormented vampire.
Angelus clamped a hand over his mouth and choked back a sob of abject
contrition. He could not make restitution to the victims he had
claimed. There were no means possible to right those execrable wrongs.
As this excruciating realization had first settled into his brain, his
initial reaction had been to destroy himself. To rid the world of the
monster that bore the name Angelus.

As the hours of torment had slid painfully by, it had not been
cowardice that had finally driven that consideration from his mind. The
two young women whose hearts continued to beat beneath the rafters of
this house must be rescued from the scheme which he and his childe had
plotted. The little redhead, while intelligent and delightfully
distracting, had been nothing more than a map to the slayer. And Buffy
had been only the explosive that would blast the council into
unsalvageable obliteration.

"Buffy," the name rasped so softly from his throat that not even his
own ears could discern it. Even his demon had seen something uniquely
remarkable toward that young woman. Now, with his soul once more
intact, he could recognize that feeling for what it was. He loved her.
It was impossible that he could ever deserve her, but he loved her
nonetheless. He must get to her, try to make her understand. Understand
what he had been, what he was now, that her life was in danger. He
would give up everything, including his own worthless existence, if
that were the payment he must render in order to spare her life and
Willow’s.

Angelus’ still heart yearned to be able to claim Buffy’s love and to
name the little redhead as a cherished friend. He held no hope for
either possibility, but the aching, hollow void that realization left
within him seemed perversely just. Clambering to his feet, his muscles
cramped from being too-long constricted, he steeled his mind to find
Buffy and tell her everything. If she despised him for it, it was no
more than he deserved. If she hated him for the rest of her life, he
was determined that it would be a long, long hatred. A hatred that
would only die, many years in the future, a natural death.
 
 
 

PART 26
By mid-afternoon, the rain had tapered to a slow drizzle, and the sun
was beginning to part the clouds in the western sky. Willow and Spike
sat side by side on the settee in the parlor near the comforting flames
in the fireplace, flipping through a tattered leather-bound scrapbook
of mementos her parents had brought back from their various trips.

The blonde vampire had visited many of these places and had spent
nearly an hour attempting to distract himself from his concern for his
missing sire by regaling the redhead with amusing stories of his
adventures abroad, explaining that he had traveled extensively after
his mother and father had died. Buffy quietly entered the room and
smiled over at the couple who were so obviously comfortable in one
another’s company. Closing the book and pushing it aside, Willow looked
up at her friend.

"Still no word from Angelus?" she asked. "I hope he hasn’t taken ill--"

"I don’t think so. I passed by the parlor maid on the way out of my
room," Buffy answered. "She said Angelus had rung for hot water for a
bath."

Quickly masking his confused surprise, Spike stood up and excused
himself, "I’ll check in on him. Just to be certain."

Angelus had just finished dressing when the blonde vampire rapped
softly on the bedroom door. Sensing his childe, he steeled himself,
determined not to give his present condition away before he could get
both Buffy and Willow out of this house and back to the relative safety
of London and the council. He called out to Spike, who opened the door
and stepped inside and stared in bewilderment at his sire’s unexpected
reappearance.

"Bloody hell, Angelus. Where have you been?"

The darker vampire pasted a familiar smirk on his face, "I
miscalculated the walk back from the town. I barely made it into the
stables before the sun rose. I don’t know how long I’d slept before I
woke up to that blasted rain. I grabbed a blanket from the carriage and
ran like hell for the servants’ entrance at the back and slipped up the
back stairs."

He watched his childe’s face for any indication that any part of the
lie had given him away, but Spike simply nodded and accepted the story
without question, "Did you find Dru?"

Angelus shook his head, "Didn’t catch so much as a glimpse of her. She
can’t be far, though. If she hasn’t already found this place, she will
have done by tonight. We must get Willow and Buffy away from here, as
soon as possible. Aside from the fact that Drusilla is a direct threat
to them, someone in town is going to find three drained corpses, if
they haven’t already. Vampire activity isn’t exactly rampant around
here. Talk is going to spread like fire through this village. We all
have to get away from here."

"I agree," Spike nodded. "But how are we going to get those two away,
especially with Dru lurking around?"

"I’ll make arrangements to have the carriage ready as soon as the sun
has gone down tonight. I’m going to tell Buffy that our driver went
into town this afternoon, where he heard that Rupert Giles has booked a
room at the inn in town. I’ll tell her he must have found out about
this estate, that he’s on his way here, and that we must leave
immediately if she wants to avoid him--which I know she does. While I
help Buffy and Willow gather up their belongings, I want you to check
the lane into town for any sign of Dru. There’s no hope that she’ll
listen to me at this point, but she might listen to you. Make her
believe that you had nothing to do with sending her to Scotland, that
you were as angry as she when you found out what I’d done. Tell her you
know that we’re readying the carriage for a ride into town tonight, and
that you’ll try to lure Buffy away from the rest of us so that Dru can
kill her. If you can persuade Drusilla to agree to that, it will leave
her far enough away from the estate to allow us time to get away
safely."

"All right," Spike agreed. "But if she won’t listen--"

"You may not even track her down if she’s still in town, which will
serve us just as well," Angelus pointed out. "Either way, you must be
back here in an hour. We can’t afford to wait any longer than that.
Especially if you can’t locate Dru. I don’t particularly care one way
or the other whether Dru dies or not, but if you find her and she won’t
listen to you, you may have to stake her. Can you do that, if it
becomes necessary? Our plans for Buffy and the council--your plans for
Willow--may depend on it."

His childe’s response was immediate, "I won’t lose Willow to Dru’s
insane jealousy. I’m not keen on staking her, but if she leaves me no
choice--"

"Good," Angelus nodded. "We have only a few hours before sunset. Send
Buffy up to me."

Spike turned and left the room, closing the door behind him, and the
newly-souled vampire sank down onto the mattress and allowed the
nervous energy he had kept at bay to wash over him. He closed his eyes
and raised trembling hands to his face, dreading what he knew he must
do next. Face Buffy and tell her the truth.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Angelus couldn’t decide whether to be frightened or grateful when Buffy
sat quietly for nearly two hours, interrupting only sporadically to ask
a question, as he slowly and haltingly explained everything to her--who
he was, who Spike and Drusilla were, why they had they journeyed to
London. He told her of his plans for her and the council, the real
reason for exposing her own past to her, why he had couched the truth
of her past in lies, his reason for bringing her here, and what had
occurred in that dark lot only last night. When he finished, Buffy
brushed away the tears that had slipped from her eyes and stared over
at him in a long silence that sent a shiver of melancholy down his
spine. Finally, she stirred from her statue-like state and took in a
deep breath.

"And you’ve told me all of this because...of the soul of you’ve
regained?" she asked quietly.

"I can’t let you die, Buffy. As I said, Drusilla is here, and she’s out
for your blood, literally. Mr. Giles was right. You’ve a calling--a
duty--and it’s a noble cause, a good cause. He may not be your father
by birth, but I’ve no doubt that he loves you just as if you were. The
council needs you; *he* needs you. And you need him. If you hate me,
after all that I’ve done, after everything I’ve told you--and I know
that you must--I want you to hate me for a long, long, time."

"So, you’re going to help me escape back to London so that I can
fulfill my obligations as the slayer," she said, her voice shaking with
emotion. "Not--not because you--have feelings for me."

From his seat on the edge of the bed, his eyes, clouded with pain and
confusion, fixed upon hers, "I don’t understand--"

"I thought that you might--" she looked away from him as another tear
slid down her cheek. "You don’t love me."

Angelus sprang to his feet and took her gently by the arms, "You can’t
want that. Not now."

She bit her bottom lip, still refusing to meet his gaze, "I can’t, but
I do. I’ve loved you since--since before we came here. Since before I
had any idea what you were."

"Are," he corrected her with sad grimness.

"Were," she insisted sharply, finally looking up at him. "You said
yourself that you’re no longer the same. Angelus, did you have no
feelings for me then. Even though you were--using me--did you feel
*nothing* for me?"

"I didn’t want to," he confessed. "A master vampire doesn’t fall in
love with a human, much less a slayer."

"But--but you did?" she asked, hoping desperately.

He raised a hand to her cheek and thumbed away her tears, "I did,
perhaps not as completely or as purely as I do now. But I--"

His words were engulfed by her mouth as Buffy pressed her lips firmly
to his. He moaned softly as her slender arms stole around him, pulling
him closer against her warm body.

He drew away slightly and repeated in a whisper, "Buffy, you can’t--"

She rested her head against his chest and nodded, "But I do. I love
you, Angelus. What does it matter if I fell in love with someone you
were only pretending to be? You *are* that person now, aren’t you? I
still love the same man, but now you’re really him. And, after all,
even I am not who I once thought I was. I suppose, in some strange way,
that gives us even more in common."

He shook his head, smiling in wonder at her convoluted logic that,
somehow, made sense, "I could never deserve you, love. You know that."

"Who ever deserves anything?" she asked him. "We get what we get. All I
know is that I love you. I have so much to learn, Angelus. Who better
to teach me the things I must know? I can do--what I’ve been called to
do--but I want you to be with me, if you can. If it’s what you want,
too."

"It is," he responded, astounded by this petite woman’s capacity to
love. Knowing he was not worthy to accept it, knowing that he
shouldn’t, yet unable to deny it. "I love you, too, Buffy. I can’t even
begin to compensate for the lives I’ve destroyed--"

"But you can help, now. Your help would be invaluable in preventing
other lives from being destroyed, if you’ll fight with me. We can go to
London, together. We can talk to my father, make him understand. I
won’t go to America unless you go with me."

"Gods, you’re amazing, love. All right, if Mr. Giles will agree to
it," he conceded. "But we have to get away from here, Buffy. You aren’t
safe. Willow isn’t safe."

She tensed in his arms and looked up at him, "Would William hurt her? I
was so certain that he loves her."

"I’m sure that he does," Angelus nodded. "But Spike--William--wants
her, as his mate, for eternity. He’s planning on turning her, making
her what he is. Trust me, Buffy, my childe can be as cruel and ruthless
as he can be utterly charming. If he finds out what’s happened to me,
that he’s in danger of losing Willow, he won’t hesitate to take her.
And with Drusilla is in town, your own life is at risk, as well. "

Buffy stepped away from him, trying to quell the panic rising within
her, "But what can we do? How can we get away from here--especially
Willow--without alerting either Drusilla or Wil--Spike?"

Angelus quickly explained how he had persuaded his childe to help
fabricate the lie about Rupert Giles as a ruse to take Buffy and Willow
away from the estate--that this would, in fact, be the story that Spike
was relating to Willow at this same moment.

The slayer smiled and reached up to touch his cheek, "You planned this
all out, didn’t you? Just to take Willow and me to safety."

"Nothing’s more important to me than you are," he vowed. "I love you,
Buffy. I’ll get you--both of you--out of this predicament. I swear it."

"I believe you," she whispered and brushed her lips softly over his.

He held her tightly for a moment before pulling back and refocusing his
mind on the situation at hand, "We’re leaving tonight, the moment the
sun sets. The driver will have the carriage waiting for us. I’ve told
Spike to go out right after sunset and try to find Drusilla; I gave him
an hour to search for her. He’ll be heading towards the town. He
believes we’ll be waiting here for his return, but as soon as he’s left
the estate, the three of us will take the carriage and leave in the
opposite direction. If all goes well, we should have an hour’s distance
between Spike and us when he returns to the estate and discovers we’re
gone--longer than that by time he gets back to town and hires a
carriage."

"But if he finds Drusilla quickly, he may not be away that long," she
pointed out.

"Which is why we must be ready to leave the moment Spike has left us.
I’ll destroy my childe if that is what’s required to keep you safe, but
with Dru stalking about, he’s much more useful keeping her at bay while
we make our escape. I’m going to go down to him and keep him distracted
while the two of you are packing under the pretense of fleeing with
Spike and myself. Go with Willow to her room and explain everything to
her. When your suitcases are ready, have Willow’s butler take them down
the back stairs. My driver will load them into the carriage from there.
I’ll keep Spike preoccupied and away from Willow until it’s time for
him to go search for Dru."
 
 

PART 27
Buffy cast a rueful glance at Angelus as they entered the parlor to
find Willow wrapped comfortably in Spike’s firm embrace. The redhead
blushed furiously and quickly attempted to extricate herself from the
blonde vampire’s arms. The slayer swallowed around the painful lump in
her throat as the dark vampire gave her arm a reassuring squeeze.

"I thought we might find you here," Buffy smiled at the redhead. "I’m
sorry for having disappeared for so long. Willow, has William explained
my dilemma to you?

"Your father--Mr. Giles--is on his way here," she nodded.

"I’m so sorry to uproot everyone again so quickly," the slayer
apologized. "I just don’t think I’m ready to--"

"We understand, Buffy," the redhead reassured her. "But where will we
go? You haven’t decided to return to London, surely. You must know that
Mr. Giles will also return there when he discovers that we’re no longer
here."

"I do," she agreed. "And, of course, the rest of the council is there
as well. But at least it will give us a day or two to plan other
arrangements before Mr. Giles is able to make his way back to London."

"You should go up and pack your belongings. We must not waste time.
William and I will make some sort of excuse to the staff and have the
carriage made ready," Angelus said.

"All right," Willow nodded and looked up at Spike. "Will you excuse
us?"

He nodded and stole a quick kiss from her lips before she stepped away
from him to follow Buffy out of the room. Angelus waited until their
footsteps faded before taking a seat.

"We’ve nearly an hour before sunset. I’ve already given our driver my
orders, but Buffy and Willow aren’t aware of that. If they’ve finished
packing before you return from searching for Dru, I’ll tell them we
must wait for the carriage," he lied smoothly. "I meant what I said
earlier, Spike. If you find her and she refuses to be persuaded to wait
in town, you must stake her. One way or the other, I want her out of
the way before she destroys everything we’ve gained over the course of
the past week. We’re too close to bringing down the council to allow
her idiotic jealousies to foil that plan now."

His childe nodded. "I’ll do whatever has to be done."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow sat on the bed, too stunned to move, as Buffy wrestled open the
redhead’s suitcase and began folding her friend’s clothes into it.

"This can’t be right," Willow murmured. "It’s a prank. He isn’t
serious, Buffy."

"You’re intelligent, Will," the slayer spoke softly, not unfeeling
towards her best friend’s shocked misery. "Think about everything
that’s happened to us. As awful as what Angelus told me may be, you
must see that it does make sense."

She shook her head, "William loves me. I know it."

Buffy stopped her hurried movements long enough to place a gently
supportive hand on Willow’s shoulder, "Perhaps he does. His eyes
certainly reflect it every time he looks at you, but it’s all been a
lie. He’s been using you, Will. This whole scheme was plotted out by
the three of them to get to me, to destroy the council. I know how
difficult this is, believe me--"

"But if Angelus loves you, if you want to be with him, why can’t
William and I--"

"Because of Angelus’ soul. That’s the difference. I won’t pretend to
understand it all myself, but I’ve already explained it to you as best
I can. Perhaps Angelus can answer your questions properfly once we’ve
gotten away from here. Please, we’re wasting time that we cannot
afford. It’s nearly sunset. We must be ready to leave as soon as
William
has gone out to search for Drusilla. I’m sorry, Willow. So very sorry.
I know that you’re hurting, but we aren’t safe here. We must get back
to London. My father will know what to do."

The redhead smiled sadly, "So, he’s your father again."

"I don’t agree with everything he’s done. He should have told me the
truth long ago, but I understand his motivations, now. What he did, he
did out of love. He never meant to hurt me, and he may very well be the
only one who can rescue us. I need you to trust me right now. I need
your courage and wits, Will. I know that you love him, but you must
believe me when I say you can’t stay here with William."

"I do trust you," she nodded and fought the dazed fog in her brain long
enough to rise and assist Buffy in putting the last of her belongings
into the suitcase.

Buffy went to the door, where she had left the butler waiting for them,
and passed out the heavy suitcase, "Mine is just inside the guest room
door. Take them both down the back stairs and give them to Angelus’
driver. Say nothing to anyone."

The tall man nodded silently and hurried to carry out her orders. A
short moment later, heavy footsteps sounded on the main staircase, and
Angelus appeared at the end of the corridor.

"William has just left the house. Are both of you ready?"

"Yes," the slayer nodded, and he reached for her hand and looked over
at Willow. "Are you all right?"

"No," she whispered, fighting back tears. "I don’t understand any of
this. I love him, Angelus."

The tall vampire smiled sadly down at her and raised his free hand to
caress her cheek, "I know. And I’ll answer any questions you care to
ask, but in the carriage. We must leave at once."

She breathed in a shuddering breath and nodded, and he turned at
Buffy’s side and led the way down to the foyer, "Wait here. I’m going
below stairs to bring the driver and carriage around front. I’ll come
to the front door and fetch you when I’m certain it’s safe."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
From the far border of the property, Drusilla could just make out
William’s moonlit form as he turned off the drive and vanished along
the road that led from the estate to town. Slipping out from the cover
of the leafy trees, she edged close enough to the house to watch as the
carriage stopped near the front door but carefully kept enough distance
to prevent her sire from sensing. her. She smiled to herself as Angelus
stepped down from the carriage and ascended the stairs to the front
door. With quick footsteps, she made her way to the side of the house
and silently stole nearer to the awaiting carriage.

A few seconds later, Angelus reappeared on the steps, followed closely
by the slayer and her redheaded friend. He led them down to the
carriage, and Willow climbed inside. Drusilla grinned as she watched
her sire’s body suddenly tense. The beautiful vampire dropped her
beloved Miss Edith to the ground and slid out the dagger anchored
beneath the satin sash around her lacy gown. Her human face slid away
to reveal the exquisite features of her demon, and with a soft growl,
she flew out of the shadows and grabbed Angelus’ arm, catching him
unawares and flinging him aside. Buffy cried out as one of Drusilla’s
hands curled around her throat, and the other hand raised the deadly
dagger over the slayer’s left breast.

With a horrified gasp, Willow cried out, "Buffy!" and slammed the open
carriage door hard into Drusilla’s right shoulder. The slayer clutched
at the hand around her throat, pried it away, and with more strength
than she ever realized she possessed, shoved away the dark-haired
vampire. Dru landed on the hard gravel drive, and her sire growled from
behind her and dragged her up off of the ground. The unfamiliar surge
of regret that flashed through the taller vampire’s mind barely had
time to register on his face before he slammed the stake he had plucked
out of his pocket into his lovely childe’s heart. Willow and Buffy
stared in dazed silence as Drusilla disappeared in a swirl of ashes.

Without muttering so much as a single syllable, Angelus quickly
propelled the slayer up into the carriage, jumped in behind her, and
shouted out to his minion to drive as though the hounds of hell
themselves were upon them. Pulling Buffy close to his side and hugging
her fiercely, he reached across to grab hold of Willow’s hand and
squeeze it reassuringly as the carriage tore off down the drive and
turned in the opposite direction that Spike had taken several minutes
ago.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Spike returned to the estate fifteen minutes before the hour his sire
had allowed him had elapsed. Instinctively sensing that something was
amiss, he started around the side of the house, silently hoping that
Drusilla was not here now that they were about to make good their
escape. The bright moonlight cast an eerie pallor over the porcelain
doll Drusilla had dropped in the grass. A prickle of foreboding stabbed
along the blonde vampire’s spine as he bent down to retrieve the doll.
Something was wrong, seriously wrong. Even if Dru were here, lurking
about the property, awaiting the opportunity to attack the slayer, she
would not have discarded her precious Miss Edith, not even in
carelessness.

Clutching the doll by the throat, he raced back to the steps and bolted
through the front door. The borrowed blood in his veins ran cold at the
realization that he could not sense his sire, could not feel the unique
presence of the slayer, could not detect the gentle and unmistakable
heartbeat of his beloved redhead. At that moment, and to her grave
misfortune, the parlor maid appeared through the below stairs door.
Scowling, Spike threw the doll aside and stalked over to her, barely
able to maintain his human facade.

"Where are they?" he growled.

"S-sir?" she stammered, staring fearfully up at him.

He grabbed her arms and shoved her back into the wall, "Angelus, Buffy,
Willow--they’re gone. Where? How long?"

She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry, her tongue thick with
terror, "I--I don’t--"

"Answer me, bitch! Where have they gone?" he roared, punctuating each
word with enraged emphasis.

She whimpered, her entire body trembling now, "I--they--the carriage.
An hour ago. They--"

"That bastard," he snarled, shifting into the face of his demon as he
grabbed a handful of her hair.

He clamped his free hand over her mouth, stifling the scream that
threatened to burst from her lungs, wrenched her neck painfully to the
side, and tore into her jugular. He drained her in seconds, then
dropped her lifeless body to the floor. He whirled around, his amber
eyes still burning with rage as the reality of the situation swept over
him. His sire’s mysterious nonappearance last night. The futile search
for Drusilla. The discarded doll. Their absence. The missing carriage.
He had been played for a fool, and he had blindly, willingly, walked
straight into the game. His sire had done what Spike would have
believed the unthinkable. Left him behind. Betrayed.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
From his seat across from Willow, Angelus studied her closely as he
finished answering the last of her barrage of questions. His still
heart nearly broke for her as her glassy, dazed eyes stared at some
unseen spot just beyond his shoulder while she tried to take everything
in. He squeezed Buffy’s hand before releasing it to move around beside
the redhead and draw her into his arms.

"I’m so sorry, Willow," he whispered, gently stroking her hair.

"Does William not love me, after all? Was I nothing more than--"

"He does," Angelus told her. "But it’s a deadly love, Willow. He would
make you what he is to keep you with him forever. We cannot allow that
to happen, can we?"

She shook her head slowly and pulled away from him, "I don’t want to
die. I don’t want to become what you are. Oh! I’m sorry--"

"No. You mustn’t be," he smiled sadly. "You *don’t* want to be what we
are."

"Will he come after her, Angelus?" Buffy asked.

"Without question," he nodded. "Which is why it is imperative that we
get both of you to safety. At least, with Drusilla gone, we know
Spike’s search for her will have been futile. He will have taken the
full hour I gave him to try to locate her, which gives us the benefit
of a little added time. I think it will be very difficult for him to
find transport to London before tomorrow evening."

"But then what will happen?" the slayer inquired. "Can you keep us
safe? Can we keep Willow from him?

"Not indefinitely. Spike doesn’t know that I’ve been cursed with a
soul, but he’ll most certainly regard my actions tonight as betrayal,
and so will my minions. Unfortunately, by staking Drusilla, I’ve
created the perfect opportunity for Spike to set himself up in London
as master."

"What does that mean?" Willow asked. "Will the vampires there no longer
submit to your authority?"

"I’m afraid not, in spite of the fact that I have a reputation which
precedes me," Angelus grimaced. "When word begins to spread--and it
will quickly do so--the minions will no longer follow me. I’m not
certain Spike really cares whether the council is dismantled, but
he most definitely will care about having lost you. He’ll seek revenge
on both Buffy and me. And there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll come
after you, Willow. I know my childe well. He loves seldom, but when he
does love, he loves absolutely. His intention all along has been to
make you his mate. He will not give that up. You’re in more danger now
than you have ever been to this point."

"But if Spike is so determined, what can we do?" Buffy asked, her voice
heavy with worry. "How will we ever keep him from Willow?"

"When we reach London, I’ll have my driver set us down at Willow’s
house. I wish him to have as little information as possible to pass on
to Spike," Angelus explained. "From there, we must locate Mr. Giles. If
we are to ensure either of you any safety at all, we must get you out
of England. Mr. Giles must book passage to America--for all of you--as
quickly as possible. I believe he had already begun making those
arrangements, and the council is more far-reaching than you probably
realize. Hopefully, the three of you will be able to set sail by
tomorrow."

"The three of us?" the slayer repeated. "I’m not going to America
without you, Angelus."

"Buffy--"

"No! I mean it. I love you. You can help us on this--Hellmouth--of
which my father spoke. We’ll go to him, explain everything to him.
Surely, he will realize what an invaluable ally you would be. There is
so much I don’t know, so much I must learn. With your guidance and
knowledge, think how much you could teach me."

I can’t travel during the day," he argued, though he had the not so
unpleasant feeling that he was losing the debate.

"You’ll be safe enough from the sun once you’re in a cabin below deck.
We’ll book a night passage so that you can board with us, after the sun
has set. I won’t leave you here. I won’t be without you. I’ve done
everything you’ve asked me since you came to me this afternoon. Now,
you must do this for me. Please, Angelus. I need you."

"All right, love," he capitulated, smiling at her as he moved back to
her side to put an arm around her. "If Mr. Giles will agree to it, I’ll
go with you."

She breathed a soft sigh of relief and raised her head to place a kiss
on his lips before settling back comfortably against his shoulder. The
vampire glanced at Willow, knowing how incredibly difficult it must be
for her to hear Buffy pleading for him to stay with her when the
redhead had just lost her own love and would now have to leave behind
her life in London and her hopes for a future with Spike. Willow turned
her head away from couple and looked out at the passing darkness as a
tear rolled down her cheek.
 
 
 

PART 28
Spike glanced at the horizon as he nudged the horse under him to
quicken his pace along the otherwise deserted stretch of road that led
away from the village. It had been four hours since he had stormed out
of the manor house and made his way toward town. Knowing that he would
not be able to arrange for a carriage until the next evening, he had
stopped at a small farmhouse just before the town and had crept around
to the stables. After snapping the neck of the young stable lad who had
come upon the vampire as he was saddling the horse, Spike had leapt up
into the saddle and galloped off into the darkness.

Angelushad already gained too great a lead on him for the blonde
vampire’s liking, and he was determined to use every last second he had
before the sun rose to travel as far and as fast as he could before
having to seek shelter and allow the horse to rest. He had no idea what
could have persuaded his sire to such a gross act of deception. It must
have had something to do with the corpse Angelus had found in that
vacant field, since that was where the sire had gone only hours before
he must have started making plans to help Willow and the slayer escape
the estate. And the deception had been targeted not just at Drusilla,
but at himself, as well. If Angelus had not changed sides, he would
have given his childe some sort of explanation. He most certainly not
would have abandoned him as he had done.

The horse underneath him pricked up his ears and broke into a full
gallop as the vampire snarled angrily. Spike cursed Angelus under his
breath and vowed that, no matter what was required, no matter how long
it took, he would have his revenge. He would make his sire pay for what
he had done. He would find his Willow, turn her, and together, they
would spend the rest of eternity making Angelus regret that he had ever
even contemplated trying to keep them apart.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Rupert Giles’ reaction was much the same as Buffy’s and Willow’s had
been after Angelus slowly and thoroughly explained to the watcher all
that had happened. The man downed the rest of the glass of whiskey in
his hand and turned to the liquor cart to refill it.

"Daddy?" Buffy spoke softly, apprehensively.

He set down his glass and turned back to her. It seemed like a lifetime
since he had heard her address him in such an affectionate term, and he
had worried whether he would ever hear that word from her lips again.
He smiled at her as she walked over to him and took both of his hands
in hers.

"Are you all right?" she asked. "You do believe Angelus, don’t you?"

"Yes," he nodded. "I don’t quite understand it, but I’ve learned many
things in my career with the council that have been beyond normal human
comprehension. I’ve never heard of a vampire re-gaining a soul. I never
knew such a thing was possible. I must admit to being fascinated,
though. It will require hours of research to--"

"We haven’t time for that right now, sir," Angelus interrupted. "We
must take Buffy and Willow away from here. It isn’t likely that Spike
will arrive in London before late tomorrow evening, but that leaves us
precious little time."

"I’ll send a message to the council. I’d already looked into the ships’
boarding schedules in preparation for our trip to America," Giles said
as he went to his writing desk and fished around for a the boarding
schedule he had placed there. He handed it to Buffy before plucking up
a pen and dipping it in an inkwell to quickly scribble out a short
note. "I don’t think we should have much difficulty in booking passage
for--"

"It must be at night, Daddy," Buffy interrupted. "Angelus is going with
us. To help. On the Hellmouth."

He considered that statement for several minutes before nodding, "He
would certainly be a formidable weapon against what we’ll face there.
But I’ll only agree to this on one condition. The others on the council
must not know. I’ve said nothing to any of them about Angelus or Spike,
and I think it best that they not be informed we are forming an
alliance with one who should be considered an enemy."

"Mr. Giles," Angelus spoke. "I give you my word--for what that’s
worth--that I would never--"

"I believe you," the watcher interrupted him. "You’ve told me too much,
given too much away, to be only deceiving us. Your own existence must
be in danger now. I’d just prefer not to have to convince the council.
So, while they may know that you will be traveling with us, they need
not know exactly what you are or why you are going. Buffy, did you
sense nothing about any of them--Angelus or Spike or--what was her
name?"

"Drusilla," the slayer answered. "I--I suppose I did. They
seemed--different. I’m not certain I can explain it. Should I have
known?"

"That they are vampires?" her father responded. "No. Not when you knew
nothing of the existence of such creatures. But as a slayer--though you
didn’t realize it at the time--that is what you were sensing."

"Well, the next time I feel--whatever it was I felt--I’ll know, won’t
I?" she smiled. "But the important thing now is Willow’s safety.
Angelus believes Spike will do whatever is necessary to take her away
from us."

Giles ventured a look across the room at the little redhead who was
staring into the flames in the fireplace, only half-listening to the
conversation taking place behind her, "I’ll have this note sent round
to the council. I’ll arrange for one of them to see to the estate here
while we’re away and to ship anything--books, papers, personal
belongings--that we may need in Boston. We should be ready to sail by
tomorrow night."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Spike dismounted and flew up the steps to the front door of Willow’s
London estate. The mansion in Belgravia had been abandoned, and Angelus
was nowhere to be found. Spike held little hope that Willow we be at
home, either, but he might at least coax some answers from one of the
staff here--if he could contain his rage long enough to stop himself
from ripping out the tongue of the first servant he laid eyes on. That
servant was, as expected, the butler, who had hastened to the door in
response to the blonde vampire’s loud pounding. Spike pushed his way
inside and scowled at the shaken man.

"Phillips, I must speak with Willow. Is she in?"

"I’m sorry, Mr. Randall. Miss Rosenberg has gone."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"My orders were to tell no one, sir. Miss Rosenberg and Miss Giles were
quite adamant on that--"

"Miss Giles? Buffy was with her? And Angelus?"

"The dark haired gentleman, yes. I believe that is how Miss Rosenberg
addressed him," Phillips nodded.

"Damn it," Spike hissed. "It’s imperative that I see Willow. When is
she expected back?"

"I’m sorry, sir. I have my instructions. I can’t help you."

The vampire seriously considered extracting the information from the
stoic butler by threatening to tear out the man’s throat. While he
considered it extremely unlikely that Willow had fully explained the
situation to her butler, she had obviously told him enough to make him
wary. Spike wasn’t at all sure that Phillips wouldn’t forfeit his own
life to protect his young mistress, which would mean that he would only
have succeeded in wasting time that he could not afford. With a
frustrated growl, he turned on his heel and bolted back out the door
and out onto the street. Leaving the horse where he had tethered it, he
whistled for the hansom cab that was heading toward him from the far
end of the street. He scrambled in and shouted to the driver, and the
cab picked up speed and headed in the direction of Rupert Giles’ home.

Upon reaching his destination, he ordered the cabby to wait for him.
Spike raced around to the servants’ entrance and tugged on the rope
with such force that he nearly dislodged the bell from its mooring on
the opposite side of the door. A moment later, the door swung open on a
small, bony scullery maid who could not have been more than fourteen
years old. Her eyes possessed the vacantly witless gaze of one who
lacked the mental capacity to ever rise above her current lowly
position, no matter how many years she might spend in service. The
small girl peered out through scraggly whisps of bangs at the handsome
blonde man on the doorstep.

Spike pasted a charming smile on his face, "I’m so sorry to disturb you
Miss--"

"Gracie, sir. That’s what they call me."

He nodded and lied with practiced ease, "Gracie. I rang at the front
door, but nobody answered. I’m trying to locate Miss Rosenberg. It’s
urgent that I speak to her. Is she here?"

The young girl sucked her bottom lip between brown teeth and gnawed at
it as her brow furrowed, "I ain’t sure I’m supposed to say, sir. Only,
there’s been talk, you see. Shall I fetch the parlor maid--"

"No!" he shouted with enough force to cause the girl to step back
fearfully. He smoothed the scowl from his face and smiled sweetly down
at her, "Forgive me, Gracie. This is very urgent. I haven’t time to
wait while you go in search of the parlor maid. My name is William
Randall, and--"

"Ah! You’d be Miss Willow’s--pardon me, sir--Miss Rosenberg’s young
man, then. I’ve heard talk of you. Daisy--that’s the parlor maid--said
that you was a lovely man. Until Cook told her to hold her tongue,"
Gracie giggled. "Gets in a right snit, does our cook. Says we ain’t got
no place to be prattlin’ on about them what’s upstairs. Cacklin’ on
like a couple of hens, they was. Daisy said--"

In different circumstances, the vampire might have been amused by the
daft girl’s brainless rambling, but he was in no such mood at the
moment, and he raised a hand to silence her, "Gracie--Miss Rosenberg?
Can you just tell me whether she’s here or not?"

The girl cast a quick glance over her shoulder and lowered her voice,
"You won’t tell no one else, sir?"

He shook his head, "Our secret. I promise."

Apparently, Gracie liked the idea of sharing a secret with the handsome
gentleman, for she smiled broadly and nodded, "She ain’t here. That
much I can tell you. Don’t know where they went off to, though. Mr.
Giles sent the footman round to the Harrises with a note. Something
about settin’ sail tonight, and--"

"Setting sail? That’s what the note said?"

"Well, it ain’t like the footman actually read it. But that’s what he
overheard when he went up to get his orders from Mr. Giles."

The vampire clutched his fists at his sides. Sailing tonight. Boston.
The Hellmouth. He must get to the docks.

He turned to leave, then whirled back around as the scullery maid was
closing the door, "Gracie. How long ago did they leave here?"

"About two hours, it were. Maybe a little more. Loaded up the carriage,
and they was off."

He nodded and took off for the waiting hansom cab.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow sat on the bed in her first class cabin aboard the ship, staring
down through watery eyes at the glittering emerald necklace in her
hands. A soft rap sounded from the other side of the door, and Buffy
pushed it open and smiled over at her.

"Are you all right, Will?"

The redhead only nodded in response, her fingers skimming over the
luminous stones set in the necklace.

The slayer blinked against the tears in her own eyes, "Oh, Will. I’m
sorry. I wish--"

"Yes. So do I," Willow finally raised her eyes and returned her
friend’s sad gaze. "I know what he is. I understand everything Angelus
said--well, most of it, anyway. But I can’t help it, Buffy. I love
him."

"I know," she said softly and walked over to put a comforting arm
around the grieving redhead’s shoulders. "I know how badly you must be
hurting. Why don’t you join us up on deck? It’s a beautiful night. The
stars above the water are so lovely."

Willow brushed an errant tear from her cheek and nodded slightly. She
took a moment to fasten the emerald necklace around her throat before
rising beside Buffy to follow her upstairs. The breeze off the ocean
was pleasantly warm and salty, and Angelus turned to take the slayer’s
hand as she stepped between him and Giles. Willow went to the railing a
few feet away from the others and gazed out at the dark outline of the
land which was just beginning to fade in the distance. Where was
William at this moment, she wondered to herself. Had he made his way
back to London by now? Was he searching for her? Had he really loved
her as much as she loved him? Would his heart also shatter at the
realization that they were lost to one another?

"William, I love you. Don’t forget me," she whispered so softly she
knew that none of the others could possibly have heard her.

Angelus’ keen hearing, however, caught the almost silent plea, and a
sharp stab of remorse washed over his body at the knowledge of the pain
that he and his childe had wrought upon the young woman. While his soul
knew that taking her away to America was the only way to ensure her
safety, he couldn’t help feeling guilty over the irony that he had a
lifetime to share with his love while Willow was left to suffer the
anguish of losing the one who had meant everything to her. She had
forsaken everything she knew out of trust in him and out of a desire to
support Buffy and Giles. If it took an eternity, he would find a way to
help her through her grief, to help her move beyond it and rebuild her
future.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Spike stood on the wharf, staring out at the huge ship slowly fading on
the horizon. It was the only vessel he could see sailing away, and he
turned to step in front of an elderly man with the weather-beaten face
of one who made his livelihood from working along the docks.

"That ship," the vampire gestured out across the water. "Do you know
where it’s headed?"

The man nodded, "Boston, in America. Just missed it, did you?"

"If you only knew," Spike thought silently, but said aloud, "Just."

"Won’t be another ship leaving for that destination for a fortnight.
Cabins weren’t all taken last I knew. Reckon you could book passage on
that one if you’re quick about it."

A slow smile spread over the blonde vampire’s face, and he nodded and
replied, "I’ll do that. Thank you."

He turned back toward the water as the man walked away. "Have patience,
my beautiful Willow," he thought to himself. "My sire and his damned
slayer may have taken you away from London, but they haven’t taken you
away from me. Only two weeks, luv. Two weeks and I’ll be with you
again. And this time, I promise that we’ll have an eternity together.
Wait for me, sweetheart. They can’t keep us apart."

End.

read the sequal 'Reprisal'

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