The whole group, which now consisted of Giles, Xander, Anya, Willow
and
Spike; waited nervously for the arrival of the chartered light aircraft
at
Sunnydale’s small airport. The psychiatrist and the five other council
members, who’s presence they had been advised of only after their landing
in Los Angeles, were already ten minutes overdue.
“Are we worried or happy they’re late?” Xander asked artlessly.
Giles looked at Xander. “Worried. If they don’t arrive, the Council
is
likely to act unilaterally. At least we have some chance of providing
some
input, if they ever get here.”
Willow looked at her lover. “You’re okay with meeting these people?
They’ll
probably panic in all directions.”
Spike chuckled. “Pet, I’m counting on it. Think it through a moment.
A
familiar voice or two, familiar accents; they relax, then, they discover
who I am. They panic. That’s when we have the advantage, and you and
the
Watcher will need to press it home. We can’t count on Chubs for this,
although he and demon-girl will be a great distraction, they’ll help
to
keep the council members confused.”
Giles and Xander both looked oddly at him. “Why’re you on our side?”
Xander
asked suspiciously.
“Simple, Chubs. Think about it for a while, then when you can’t work
it
out, ask Willow.”
Xander glared at the smirking vampire. “Why don’t I just knock your
teeth
in?” He asked, angrily.
“Because I could fend you off until you collapsed from exhaustion. And
because I wouldn’t be hurting you, I wouldn’t feel a thing. Moron.”
Spike
grinned openly at the group, who were digesting that information.
Willow giggled. “He’s got a point Xander. About him holding you off
I mean.
As for why he’s on our side, Spike is pragmatic. Do you remember what
Buffy
told us he said when he helped her against Angel?” Xander nodded slowly
as
Willow continued. “Spike likes to see a balance; and the Council wants
there to be no balance, only humans. They’re sort of like the Master,
but
in reverse. He wanted Demons to control everything. Or like Angel was
without his soul. He wanted to make the world part of Hell.”
An aircraft making its landing approach interrupted any further discussion.
They watched as the door opened and the collapsible ladder extended.
As
they had expected, six people debarked the aircraft; four men and two
women. All appeared middle aged and all were dressed with the typical
Council conservativeness that served as a uniform for its members.
They walked towards the waiting Scooby gang. Taking notice of, and speaking
only to Giles, they introduced themselves. Dr Peter Maugham, the Council’s
consultant psychiatrist; Rochelle Geraldson (DD, Oxon), advisor to
the
Council’s ritual team; and the team members Marcus Adair, Sarah
Trescothick, Nigel Featherstonehaugh“that’s pronounced Fanshaw”and
George
Menzies.
“Mr Giles, could I suggest that we perhaps repair to the hotel
accommodation to discuss these issues privately?” The implication that
the
Council members wished to speak with Giles alone was clear as Maugham
made
his request.
“No, we’re a team. Where one goes, we all go. Is that clear … Doctor?”
Giles delivery was flat and emotionless; it was also delivered in the
North
London street accent that Willow associated with Ripper.
Maugham nodded. Very well, could you at least introduce me to your …
associates?”
Giles smiled. “Certainly.” He gestured to his right. “This is Mr Alexander
Harris, known as Xander, and his partner, Anya, formerly Anyanka, vengeance
demon on behalf of women scorned in love. And here,” said Giles, moving
his
hand across his body to indicate the other pair, “are Miss Willow Rosenberg
and her partner, Mr William T. Blood.”
The vampire smirked at the group of council members, who were obviously
trying to make a connection with his name. He decided to have some
fun. The
blond vampire moved forward menacingly. “People call me Spike.” He
smiled
mirthlessly as he spoke. “Anyway, shouldn’t we be getting you safe
inside?
It is dark now, and you know what these creatures of the night are
like.”
He ushered them to the waiting cars as they began to realise who he
was.
Spike, Giles and Xander got the thoroughly confused Council members
into
the waiting cars before they could protest. With Spike and Giles driving,
they took their guests not to the expected hotel accommodation, but
to
Willow’s parents house, the largest private home to which they had
access.
Secure in the knowledge that her parents would not return for some
time,
they could interview their guests at length while they were still
disoriented and jetlagged.
“But this isn’t our hotel!” Maugham was obviously the leader of the
group,
and he registered the complaint on their behalf. “Why are we here?”
“Simple” Giles answered, still in Ripper mode. “Because we decided.
Now,
please go inside. I promise no harm will come to you, if you go inside.”
He
pointed at Spike, now with his game face on. “I’m bloody hungry,” he
growled. “If you don’t get in there, I’ll have to have a snack. Or
two.”
With that motivation, the six entered Willow’s house. As they did so,
Willow demanded any cell phones and beeper systems they had. “I’m sorry
we
have to do this,” she said, “ but we need to talk to you, and we also
need
to be sure that we won’t be interrupted.”
“But that’s William the Bloody!” Menzies squawked.
“Yes, that’s him alright.” Willow sighed as she looked at Spike. “And
isn’t
he delicious?”
“He’s one of the most monstrous creatures in history, Miss Rosenberg.
The
term delicious isn’t one I would apply to him.”
“Don’t you think that’s a little racist, Mr Menzies?”
“Pardon?” Menzies looked very confused. So did the other guests.
“He’s a soul-less demon! Why is he here?” Adair demanded
“That’s the racism showing, Mr Adair. How do you determine worth? It
appears that you insist on a soul; but even in the one case of a demon
with
a soul, Angel, you refused to help him when he was poisoned. That’s
racism.
You discriminated against him because of his demon-ness.”
“Your personal ethics, however, aren’t the issue at the moment. Although
I
wish I had still had my powers when you refused Angel help,” Anya
interjected, “I would’ve had a field day with the whole Council to
torture.” She smiled, somewhat reminiscently at the thought. “We want
to
talk about your plans for Buffy.” So saying she went outside.
“There’s nothing to discuss. I will assess her, and if, in my opinion,
she
is incapacitated, we will perform the ritual.” Maugham said coldly.
“I’m afraid there is a lot to discuss, Dr Maugham,” Willow said flatly.
“For example, Anya is currently searching your belongings for the ritual.
When she finds it, I’ll examine it.” Willow spoke in a very emotionless,
controlled manner, but Spike could sense her underlying fury. Her
pheromones told him that she was ready to kill these people.
“Please,” Giles interrupted. “You must understand that these people
are
concerned for their friend. So am I for that matter. Now, what are
the
likely repercussions if you perform the ritual on Buffy while she’s
unstable?”
“I’m not going to discuss that, Giles.” Maugham’s omission of the courtesy
title was an obvious insult.
“Y’know Watcher, I’m beginning to get hungry again.” Spike contributed
to
the round-robin interrogation that was going on.
“Er, Spike, we can’t learn anything if you eat them.” Xander observed.
“Let me make one thing clear, Doctor Maugham. We have the power here,
not
you. If we have to, we will resort to whatever means may be necessary.
And
also don’t forget that Spike would be more than willing to turn you,
and
then dust you as soon as your vampiric self emerged. Hence no evidence
of
your ever being here.” Giles smiled as he delivered the ultimate threat
in
the same sort of pleasant voice that he normally reserved for speaking
to
favoured customers in his store.
Maugham paled. “You would betray your sacred trust? There are casualties
in
war. Miss Summers is such a casualty. And misplaced affection towards
her
weakens us all.”
“Sacred trust my arse!” Spike snarled. “You’re casually talking about
rending away everything that defines that poor chit, and you talk about
sacred bloody trust? Mate, you wouldn’t know sacred if it walked up
and bit
you on the balls. I hate the slayer, but compared to you lot, she’s
almost
human. Fuck it Ripper, just kill the cunts. I wouldn’t sully my teeth
with
vermin like that.” Spike’s fury was not feigned. He simply could not
tolerate the arrogance of the six Council members.
Willow looked at Maugham. “I want you to listen very carefully, doctor,
because I won’t repeat myself. Buffy will recover, given enough time.
If
you perform the ritual, however, you will leave her permanently insane.
I
will not permit that.”
Maugham laughed. “You won’t permit it? Little girl, run away and play
with
your dollies.”
Willow sighed. She took out a crystal and threw it at Featherstonehaugh.
She shouted “Mea Lumen, Mea lux!” and the crystal burst. In the place
Featherstonehaugh used to be was a cockroach. “Now, Maugham,” she said
to
the horrified psychiatrist, “If that ritual goes ahead, either by you
and
your people here, or by the council in England, that little demonstration
will be the least of your worries. Now, are you going to be good and
go
home, or am I going to grind Mr Featherstonehaugh into paste?”
She looked over as Geraldson fainted. “It seems that Ms Geraldson wants
to
take us seriously. Incidentally, can you refund the thirty dollars
it will
cost me to buy another crystal?” Willow gestured negligently and
Featherstonehaugh returned to his human form.
Maugham looked at the redhead, stunned by her quiet confidence. She
seemed
to think she really could control the situation.
Anya returned with several briefcases. “All the magical material and
books
are in these, Giles. Where should I put them?”
“Oh, take them into the kitchen, Willow can examine them later.”
Maugham paled again, something which the whole gang noticed. “I think
I
should examine those cases now.” Willow said flatly. “I may need your
help
Giles. The others can keep an eye on our … guests. Anya,” she spoke
to the
girl as she returned, “you know what to look for if they start to cast
spells. If anyone tries, hit them and yell.”
Anya nodded, glaring at the six unwilling guests.
Spike grinned over at Anya. “Can I ask you something? I think you should
search them for the usual nasty toys.”
“Good idea. Xander, you and Spike guard the doors.” Anya started to
give
orders, and the two men nodded. “Right, all of you. Strip. Now.”
Spike chuckled. “You’re going to enjoy this aren’t ya?”
“Well, duh! Of course. I always wanted to know if I was a dominatrix
with
anyone other than Xander.”
Spike grinned and looked at six horrified faces. “You better do as she
asks. I can just see her dragging a buggy whip out, or perhaps something
really nasty.”
The unwilling guests all looked shocked, and slowly began to remove
their
clothes. They realised that the situation was now totally out of their
control, and all six were thoroughly intimidated.
Xander looked at them as they removed their clothing. “I don’t care
what
you all say, this time I’m not doing the cavity searches.” Chuckling,
he
leant against the door, appreciating the terrified looks on the faces
of
the Council members.
When the six had removed their clothes, Anya collected and searched
through
them carefully. She found several vials of holy water, some crosses
and
also some odourless garlic. When she was certain that there was nothing
useful left, she threw the clothes back at the council members, telling
them to get dressed again.
“Spike! Ring Angel! Now!” Willow shrieked from the kitchen.
“Anya, cover this door.” Spike ordered as he moved to the phone.
“Pet, what am I meant to say?” Spike called back.
“Nothing just tell him to wait until I can get there and take the call.”
Spike dialed the number, and waited. He heard the ringing tone indicating
a
connection. Eventually, a groggy voice answered “What?”
“Peaches. Willow needs to talk to you. She asked me to get you and keep
you
here ‘til she can get to the phone. Also mate, don’t fall asleep. You
snore.”
Willow came into the room, and took the phone from Spike. “Angel, listen
carefully. Get out, take Cordy, Wes and Gunn with you, come here. Do
it
now. I’ll fill you in when you get here. It’s an emergency. I don’t
have
time to explain now, just … what? That vision is probably related to
what
I’ve been saying Angel. Just get here.”
Willow hung the phone up and glared at the council members. “I found
your
instructions, all of them.”
Maugham paled noticeably; he knew things were certainly not looking good.
Willow was literally shaking with rage, and she handed the papers to
Giles
without any further comment.
As Giles read the document, his face lost all of its expression and
colour.
“What precisely are the Council thinking?” He asked coldly.
“What should have been done years ago.”
“These are orders for a team to kill all the members of Angel
Investigations! And also to kill Buffy and everyone here, except Spike,
but
you didn’t know about him. You’re talking about cold-blooded murders.
Even
discounting Angel, you’re still planning the deaths of eight human
beings.”
“If we fail, others will also come. So why extend the agony.” Maugham’s
haughty voice carried conviction.
Willow looked at Maugham. “I really don’t like you. I’m sure that between
us, we’ll come up with an idea to deal with the rest of the Council.
But, I
wonder, what would be an appropriate death for you?”
Xander and Giles looked shocked at Willow’s coldness, while Spike and
Anya
exchanged a knowing glance. Neither was particularly surprised at her
potential for vengeance.
Giles looked up. Speaking to everyone he said, “It’s apparent that the
council has decided that they want control of the slayer. They consider
Buffy to be a rogue, along with anyone associated with her. They’re
trying
to return to the old ways.”
“Willow, are you willing to cast another truth spell, and a will weakening
spell?”
“I can probably do both, although it would knock me out. Anya, are you
capable of doing one?”
Anya shook her head. “No. I’m really sorry, but I don’t have the strength,
or the ability.”
“Giles?” Asked Willow.
“I can try, but I can’t guarantee anything.” The watcher replied.
“Okay. I guess I better cast the truth spell, while you do the will
weakening one. That way, if you fail, we can at least guarantee that
whatever they say will be truthful. And I’m sure Ripper would encourage
them to chat nicely if he has to.”
Giles nodded. “Yes, I’m rather afraid that there is no time for niceties.
I
suppose we should get started.”
Willow nodded, and looked at the six terrified council members. She
began
the chant for her spell as Giles watched. He was impressed by her growing
abilities, in particular her skill at working without the usual impedimenta
of spell casting. As she completed the incantation, he began, working
from
the redhead’s spell book. He cast more slowly, and used the candles
and
incense required, but eventually he also finished.
“Now, how to test it.” Giles mused aloud. “I know.” As he chuckled,
it
wasn’t Rupert, but pure Ripper. He leant forward and murmured a simple
question to Maugham; to which Maugham answered yes. “Both spells have
worked, so let’s begin.”
Some simple questioning quickly resolved any underlying doubts about
the
goals of the council members. It was, however, the goal of only a small
coterie within the council, who, as a whole, knew nothing of the plans
and
orders issued to Maugham.
Giles looked up, and asked “Spike, can you make a rope coffle?”
“Yeah, Ripper, dead easy.”
“Right, do that and then we’ll need to talk, away from prying eyes.”
After Spike had restrained the six, he joined the others in the kitchen.
Giles began to speak again, outlining a plan. “Because a small group
in the
council are operating unilaterally, all we need to do is to advise
the
majority of what’s happening. They may condone what Willow called racism,
but I don’t think most of the council would actively attempt to kill
a
slayer, unless she was truly dangerous. Even Faith they only ever intended
to capture, not kill.
“Now, as for the … disposition of our guests; I’m afraid I have no idea
at
all. Their passports are legally stamped, so we can’t turn them over
to
Immigration; and I can’t really accept cold-blooded murder, even if
they
could. Any suggestions?”
“Turn them over to D’Hoffryn?” Anya proposed. “I’m sure he could use
some
slaves, for eternity.” She smiled maliciously as she spoke.
Spike looked at Xander. “Never piss her off, mate.” He chuckled.
“Oh, I have no intention. None at all. Ever.”
“How about taking them down to Willie’s and auctioning them off as snack
food?” Spike suggested. “What? At least we’d make a couple of quid!”
“I could turn them all into ‘roaches.” Willow offered brightly.
“I think the council may frown on us somewhat if we kill or transmogrify
everyone,” Giles observed. “I suppose I could ask the council what
to do
with them when we contact them. Yes, I think that’s the best idea.
As soon
as Angel arrives, I’ll call the council.”
All of the Scoobies heard the car pull in to the driveway. Spike looked
cautiously out of the window. “Yeah, it’s the Angelmobile.”
Angel, Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn all got out and headed into Willow’s
house. As they piled into the lounge, they came to a halt as they saw
six
strangers roped together. “Ummm … what’s going on?” Angel asked, curiously.
“Why don’t you all sit down,” Willow suggested, “and I’ll explain all
about
it.” Waiting until the new arrivals had taken seats, she began. “These
people are from the Council of Watchers. They came here to kill us
all,
including Buffy.” She waited until the eruption died down. “There is
also a
team scheduled to attack your offices in the morning. Now Angel, don’t
panic. After all, you’re here, not there.”
“I can’t believe that the council would do something like that.” Angel
looked astonished as he absorbed the information.
“Well, actually, it’s not the whole council. Just a small group, including
a couple of the leaders.” Willow explained.
“That’s bad enough.” Angel sighed.
“Perhaps not. We’ve neutralised both council teams, and Giles has a
line
into the ‘safe’ section of the council. We can find out from them how
to
deal with the disposition of our guests.”
Willow grinned as she added, “They wouldn’t let me turn them all into
cockroaches.”
Angel looked askance, and he realised that Buffy was missing. “Where’s Buffy?”
Willow looked down and shuffled. Giles interjected, saying “She’s in
hospital; she had a breakdown. That’s why, ostensibly, the council
came.
They were meant to assess her and if she was permanently incapacitated,
remove her powers so the next slayer could be called.”
“Was it Riley’s leaving?” Angel asked.
“Pardon?” Giles looked rather confused.
“Was that the cause of the breakdown. Giles leaving.”
“Er, no. Why don’t we wait until we solve the more pressing problem
before
we bring you up to date. It’s all happened very quickly.”
“All right Rupert, but I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
“All right mate, we’ll keep you in the sun then.” Spike interjected.
Several people looked at Spike. He shrugged, unconcerned. “Just an idea.”
Angel looked over at Giles. “Why don’t you make that call now, it’s
two-thirty here, which means it’ll be ten-thirty in London.”
“Ah, good point, excuse me a moment. I’m sure that between you, you’ll
be
able to keep our … guests quiet.”
Giles was away from the lounge for over thirty minutes. On his return,
he
looked at the suddenly enlarged group on his hands and sighed. “Well,
the
council want everyone back. I did explain that four of this happy band
were
loose in Los Angeles, but they insist on having all of them back as
soon as
possible. Intact. They said that they would arrange for the California
State Police to transfer these people back to Los Angeles and thence
to
London. We just have to wait until the Police arrive. The council will
take
care of the four in Los Angeles.”
“So that’s settled. By the way, Willow, you were right about Cordy’s
vision.” Angel volunteered after a moment. “She saw four men bursting
in
and killing at least some of us.”
Willow nodded. “I still think I should have turned them into cockroaches
though, it would be so much easier.”
“Willow,” Cordelia put in, “What is it with you and cockroaches? Gross much?”
“I have frog fear,” Willow answered quietly, “So the traditional witchy
thing is real bad for me. And for some reason, rats seem beyond me,
so I
sort of had to … find an alternative.” Willow’s crooked grin was precisely
as Cordelia remembered it from high school.
“That makes a weird kind of sense,” acknowledged Cordelia. “So, how
effective are you at turning people into ‘roaches?”
Willow chuckled. “Ask them.” She stated bluntly, pointing at the detainees.
Cordelia looked over at the six dejected faces. “Well, what happened?”
Her
tone was utterly imperious, and it shocked the council members.
Featherstonehaugh looked up and shuddered, while Geraldson went a ghastly
pale green. Eventually, Maugham stated the facts. “She turned
Featherstonehaugh into a cockroach, and later turned him back.”
Cordelia looked stunned. “She really did it?” Maugham nodded unhappily
in
response. “Oh boy, did you pick the wrong witch to piss off!” she chuckled.
Willow grinned. To hear someone openly praising her magical abilities
was
still uncommon enough for her to enjoy it. “I’ve used a truth spell
on them
too. Although I think that’s worn off now,” she volunteered happily.
Angel looked over at her. “So you really could have come good on that threat?”
Willow nodded. “I’m pretty sure I could, if I had to, although I can’t
actually see a reason for doing it. Who would actually want Angelus
back?”
Cordelia, Wesley, Giles and Gunn all looked over at Willow, shocked.
She
blushed and looked down as she answered their unspoken question in
a small
voice. “Well, I needed to find out something about the chip. And angel
was
a necessary test subject.” As she finished, she fled into Spike’s arms,
suddenly ashamed of what she had done.
Spike held her, stroking her hair as she began to sob. “I’m here pet,
I’m
here.” He murmured. Then he looked up as he heard the gasps and Angel’s
growl.
Spike looked up. “Yes, we’ve got some news for you, but let’s at least
wait
until this lot are safely on a plane back to the old country.”
* * * *
Once the police had collected six very chastened and humbled members
of the
Watcher’s Council, Angel looked over at Spike and Willow. “Right, what’s
going on?”
Willow looked at Angel. “We’re lovers.”
“You’re what?”
“Lovers, Angel. That’s when two people decide they like each…”
“I know what it means Willow. But, but that’s Spike!”
Willow looked at the blond vampire in feigned horror “But you told me
your
name was George!”
Spike looked from her to Angel and back, and then began to laugh.
“Spike,” Angel growled, “Can you give me one good reason not to leave
you
out for sunrise?”
“I can give you a bloody list, grandpa, but the best one is Willow.
You
hurt me and she’ll make your life a living hell. Or possibly turn you
into
something really interesting, like a butterfly. That’d suit your
personality. Bloody ponce.”
Gunn looked up, and asked Spike, “You’re a vampire?” Spike nodded. “No
soul?” Spike shook his head. “Good enough,” responded Gunn and flicked
up
his pistol crossbow and fired. The bolt thudded home and lodged in
the
armour plating.
Spike grinned, and kissed Willow on the top of her head. “Thanks, luv.
This
has kept me intact twice already.”
Willow glared at Gunn, and hissed, “The only reason I don’t curse your
sad
ass right now is that you’re Angel’s friend. Try to hurt my man again
and
nothing will get in my way. Do you understand?”
Angel moved quickly over to Spike and Willow, and tried to pull the
bolt
out. Failing, he looked at Willow and asked, “What’ve you done?”
Willow smiled as she answered, “I made him a flak jacket. After all,
when
we told Buffy I didn’t want her staking him either.”
“But Willow, Spike’s a monster. He’s got no soul, he can’t love.”
Willow looked Angel in the eye and said a single word. “Drusilla.”
“But she’s a vampire.”
“And that makes her somehow better, different, more deserving of Spike’s
love than me?”
“That’s not what I meant Willow, and you know it.”
“Listen Angel. I’m a big girl now, and I can make my own decisions.
I’m
fully aware of what Spike was, what he is and what he has the potential
to
be. I’m not stupid or naïve; whatever some people here may think.
I thank
the Goddess daily for that chip. It’s allowed me to learn about the
man
behind the vampire façade. He’s worth a dozen of you; he gives
because he
wants to, not from a sense of guilt. He loves because that’s who he
is.”
“Willow. I understand how you’re thinking, but Spike is still selfish,
demonic, evil…”
“And who precisely made him like that, Angelus?”
“That’s unfair Willow.”
“So is your insistence that you know what I want better than I do. I
would
like my friends to accept my lover. As I see it, that’s what genuine
friends do, accept that people make their own choices.”
Angel sighed. He loved Willow, but hated the fact she could argue him
into
a corner whenever she wanted. It just didn’t seem right, somehow.
“Willow, I’m sorry, but I really can’t accept this.”
“Angel, you don’t have any choice. If you do anything to try and disrupt
my
relationship with Spike, I’ll make you regret it. That’s a promise.”
“Why won’t you listen to me, Willow?”
“How about because you’re acting like the world’s worst parents all
rolled
into one, Brood Boy.” Cordelia interjected herself into the conversation.
“You don’t like what she’s doing. Tough. This ‘tude of yours is only
going
to make matters worse, so leave it and go sulk elsewhere.”
Angel looked at Cordelia, unable to believe his ears. “He’s a monster,
Cordelia. Don’t you want what’s best for Willow?”
“And how precisely would you know what’s best for her?” Anya demanded.
“Your track record of relationships isn’t very good, is it. Let’s see
now.
Darla … your sire. You killed her, and then when she came back you
were
willing to let her die a second time. Drusilla … your childe. You made
her
insane and then left her with only Spike. Spike … your grandchilde.
He was
created for nothing more than your pleasure. Finally … there was Buffy.
One night with her and you misplaced your soul somehow.” Anya spoke
evenly,
analytically. Every word was true, and ungilded. “I really don’t think
you
should be giving out advice to others. Just let them screw. If they
aren’t
in love it’ll get it out of their system. If they are in love, there’s
nothing you can do anyway.”
Angel began to think. The discussion faded away from his ears as he
tried
to devise a way to stop what was happening. He was sure he knew what
was
best for Willow; but he realised he had time, The chip stopped Spike
from
doing anything impetuous with her, and that was a blessing.
Eventually, weariness took its toll and all of them fell asleep. Spike
remained awake longest, and he carried Willow up to her room, lay her
on
the bed and joined her in sleep.
* * * *
Willow woke the early the following afternoon with Spike still asleep
next
to her. Downstairs she could hear the whispering hiss of many voices
speaking in the distance. Carefully, she got up and realised that she
was
still dressed as she was the previous night. Quickly changing she went
downstairs to greet her guests.
“Morning, all. By the Goddess there are a lot of us here!” Willow had
never
seen the kitchen so crowded. Angel was heating blood, while Wesley
was
making coffee. Cordelia and Gunn were talking, leaning against the
breakfast bar while Giles, Anya and Xander sat at the kitchen table.
Willow
manoeuvered around the others to reach the refrigerator and extract
some
orange juice.
She looked around at all her guests. “Why did everyone stop talking
when I
came in?”
They all looked at her, rather as if they had been caught like children
being naughty. No one had expected her to be so brazen about the issue.
Willow sighed as she looked at them. “I don’t expect all of you to
understand. But can you at least try and accept the fact that I can
and
will make my own decisions.” So saying, she stalked back upstairs.”
As she re-entered her bedroom, Spike shot straight up in bed. “What is it pet?”
“Those … those … BASTARDS!” Willow shrieked. “They can’t leave well
enough
alone. They were all talking about me when I walked in, and when I
called
them on it they sat there like dummies.”
“Sod the lot of ‘em. Come on Red.” Spike stopped momentarily to shrug
on
the flak jacket.
Spike stormed down the stairs, fuming about the treatment Willow had
just
received. He burst into the kitchen, and looked everyone over. “Right.
Hands up everyone willing to accept that Willow and I love each other.”
He
watched as Xander, Anya, Giles, and Cordelia all raised their hands.
Gunn
looked uncertain, while Wesley and Angel remained stone-faced. “Right.
You
two. Out. I’ll get you a bloody blanket, poof, but I want you and the
other
wanker gone. Is that clear? I will not allow you to hurt Red.”
“And if we don’t go, Spikey-boy?” Angel’s voice carried the contempt
that
Spike always felt come from his sire.
“Simple, Willow said, “I’ll call the police to remove the trespassers.
And
they won’t worry about blankets for the sunlight. Or would you hurt
me to
stop the call being placed?”
Angel looked at her, stunned. “You wouldn’t, couldn’t.”
Willow stared levelly at him and said nothing. She continued the look,
waiting. Angel stared back. He refused to be broken by this girl who
didn’t
know what was best for her.
“Spike, get a blanket. Now.” The tone of command in her voice shocked
everyone. “Angel,” Willow said flatly, “you have thirty seconds or
I make
that call.”
Angel sighed. “Okay, I’m leaving. This isn’t over though Spike.”
“Peaches, get lost. Take this, you worthless scrote.” Spike threw him
the
blanket.
“Gunn, are you with us or against us?” Willow’s voice was still emotionless.
“I really don’t know. I guess I better go.”
The three turned and left the house; Angel waiting until the convertible’s
hood had been assembled. Then he sprinted for the safety of the car.
Spike looked at Willow. “You know this isn’t over, don’t you.”
Willow nodded and sighed again.
Spike and Willow sat in a companionable silence. The redhead was curled
into his lap and looking at her blond lover. He could see she was thinking,
and he had a fairly good idea what it was she was thinking about; the
same
thing that had occupied his thoughts for the past twenty-four hours.
Angel
and his comment ‘This isn’t over though, Spike’. Spike began to reflect
on
what Angel could effectively do. Stake him, kidnap Willow, work on
Willow’s
friends, isolating her from them, <that would kill her.> Angel could
also
claim bloodline rights. Spike shuddered at that thought.
Willow looked up, disturbed by Spike’s trembling. “What’s wrong?”
“I was thinking about all of the ideas the poof could come up with to
force
us apart.” Spike answered quietly.
“Which one scared you enough to make you shudder?”
Spike smiled a little as he explained, “Red, I didn’t shudder when I
was
scared, I shuddered when I was angry.”
The slender redhead looked up at him again, and asked, “Well, what scared
you so much and what angered you so much?”
“Are you really sure you want to hear pet? Some of what I say will shock,
or even frighten you.”
Willow gulped and nodded.
Spike looked at her carefully. “Are you sure, really sure?”
Willow gave him her crooked little smile and said, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Well, which do you want first, what scared me or what annoyed me?”
“Scared.”
Spike sighed, he really had hoped that she would ask for the other.
He had
hoped that hearing about Bloodline rights would have stopped her other
questions. “What I was thinking was that I wouldn’t put it past the
poof to
continually talk to everyone else, raising doubts in their minds, making
them wonder if what we’re doing is right. Cutting you off from your
friends
by a ‘Chinese Whisper’ campaign. I’d hate to see you friendless and
alone,
luv.”
Willow looked at him and asked “Do you think he will?”
I honestly don’t know. As Angelus, he was a right devious bugger though.”
“Okay, I think I’ve got that on board, and we can always do the same
thing.
Keep in contact with everyone so they know he’s lying. What about the
other?”
“Well,” He began, and then paused, seeking the right words. “You’ve
studied history, right?” Willow nodded “Do you know what the Droits
d’Seigneur are?”
Willow nodded. “Yes, the Rights of the Knight or Nobleman. But what’s
that
got to do with…” The last three words came out sounding like a tape
slowing
down. “If he knows what’s good for him, he better not try that. You
wouldn’t have a chance to complain, handsome man, I’d obliterate him
first!”
Spike grinned down at her. “Pet, that’s the passion and the fire that
drew
me to you. At bottom, you’ve got more bottle that the rest of those
Scoobies put together.”
“More what?” Willow looked confused.
“Sorry luv. Bottle. It means guts, courage, bravery. You’ve got more
than
I’ve seen in anyone else, ever.”
“Me?” Willow squeaked.
“Yes pet, you. What’s important now though, is trying to work out what
else
he may do. The thing is, he’s patient, he could wait months, even years
before trying anything.” Spike ran his hands absent mindedly through
her
hair as he spoke. “Red, I’ve never known anyone else willing to take
on
that sod the way you have. Twice. Soul or not, he hates to lose.”
Willow smiled. “Good. That gives us time then.”
“Time, pet, for what?”
“Time to find a spell which can sever the links between sire and childe.”
“Bleedin’ ‘ell pet. You don’t do things by ‘alves, do yer!” Spike was
so
surprised by Willow’s decisiveness and determination that his accent
thickened considerably.
“So, what’s he likely to do if we stop him isolating me, or claiming
his
‘rights’?” Willow spat out the last word contemptuously.
Spike thought before answering. “Probably try and stake me, or take
you
from me. For your own ‘good’ of course. I wonder…” Spike drifted off
into a
reverie, thinking.
The witch watched him and waited. After a minute or so, she prodded
him
“Wonder what?”
“Sorry luv. I was thinking. His behaviour over this is odd, not like
the
original Angelus at all. It reminds me more of the Angelus we met a
few
years ago, after Slutty lived up to her name.”
“Spike. That was uncalled for. Did … he tell you anything about what
actually happened?”
“No. Just that they shagged and he lost his soul. I can tell you, he
was
majorly pissed at her. He said something like ‘she made me human. You
can’t
just forgive that’.”
Willow nodded. “So you aren’t aware that Buffy gave her virginity to Angel?”
Spike gawped. “She what? That’s not possible luv. That was over two
years
after she was called. There’s one thing about the slayer, every slayer.
They need to shag. It’s like a compulsion. I don’t know if it’s because
they have such a short life span, or it’s a way to work off the excess
adrenaline or what. But it’s always the same. That’s why I called her
Slutty. It was just so appropriate. There’s the new slayer, right,
panting
after a vampire. None of the others had gone that far.”
Willow looked at him, utterly shocked. “So, Faith was a ‘normal’ slayer?”
“I wouldn’t go that far pet. I met the daft bint, remember.” Spike grinned
at his lover, as he realised that she was his, he wallowed in the feeling
for a moment before continuing. “But, as far as ‘slayer sexuality’
goes,
she was pretty normal. Perhaps a little reserved.”
Willow coughed at Spike’s comment. “This is a woman who dragged Xander
off,
screwed him silly and then threw him into the street just about butt
naked.”
Spike laughed “So she’s guilty of bad taste. Some of the slayers I heard
about would’ve just shagged him in the road and left him there. The
need
overwhelms them.”
“Giles never mentioned this.”
“No need pet. Your gang was working far better than any solo slayer
ever
has. Faith was so isolated by the gang that she went rogue.” <God
Faith’d
make a vicious vampire, he mused.> “In short, Buffy broke all the rules;
and that’s why we have the current problem.”
Willow nodded again and sighed, “Why is everything so complicated?”
Spike laughed. “It’s called life, sweets; or existence in my case. We
just
have to fumble our way through it. Now, little one, give us a kiss.”
* * * *
Anya looked over at Xander. “What’re you thinking about?”
“Willow and Spike. I’m still amazed. Hell, I’m even amazed I took their side.”
“Why? You know right from wrong. They’re happy together, and face it,
even
if Spike didn’t have the chip, there is no way he’d hurt Willow. You
saw
him with Drusilla.”
“Baby, this isn’t helping. I remember what Spike wanted to do when Drusilla
left him. ‘Torture her ‘til she loves me again’.” Xander made finger
quotes
as he spoke.
Anya smiled. “Willow isn’t Drusilla. What Willow needs is someone who
is as
loving and giving as she is. Someone as totally devoted as she is.
Can you
think of anyone better than Spike? He loved Drusilla for over a century,
and even when she left him, he tried to win her back. And she’s completely
mad. One word that doesn’t apply to Spike is commitment-phobic.”
“Yeah that’s true.”
“So shut up and stop worrying about it. Anyway, I want some orgasms.”
* * * *
Angel sat, thinking. Cordelia had not returned with him, and had called
to
tell him that she was not returning until he accepted Willow and Spike
being a couple. He couldn’t understand. Why was everyone so blind?
They
refused to see that Spike would hurt her, break her will. There had
to be a
way to force them apart. He knew he couldn’t act directly, at least
not
yet. But … well, Spike had employed the Order of Taraka to kill Buffy.
He
could do the same to kill Spike. It would be a kind of poetic justice.
Angel knew he would have to be very careful about the contract
stipulations. He turned back to his desk, he had some calls to make.
* * * *
Cordelia sat in Giles apartment, staggered by what she had done. She’d
left
Angel. She’d left Los Angeles and returned to Sunnyhell. And she had
had no
choice whatsoever. Angel’s attitude had shocked and disgusted her;
and she
had lost all respect for him. Damn him, now I’m going to have to find
a new
place, another job, and I’m stuck here. I wonder who I know who could
get
me a job? I wonder if Giles needs a shop assistant. That’d be cool.
Well,
the in a magic shop bit, not the assistant bit.
* * * *
Giles sat looking out of the window. Why did Angel have to be so
intractable? Why couldn’t he accept that Willow was mature enough to
make
her own decisions? Why couldn’t he accept that her friends accepted
Spike
as her partner? No, surely Angel wasn’t being that juvenile? Perhaps
Angel
was reverting to type. Not wholly Angelus, but insisting on the levels
of
control that Angelus had. That made a sort of macabre sense, Giles
thought.
Angelus had been let loose twice in recent memory, so there was probably
bound to be some integration between the personalities of Angel and
Angelus. Perhaps I should do some research on Angelus, see if I can
get
some ideas of the demon behind the stories, he thought.
* * * *
Willow rolled over in bed to look at her sleeping blonde lover, reaching
out, she ran her nails lightly over his motionless chest. He opened
his
eyes and looked at her. “What is it, sweets?”
“What’re we going to do when my parents get around to returning. Can
I move
in with you? I wouldn’t want you to suffer the way I have here. Have
you
actually got a place yet?”
“That’s a bloody good idea Red. And yes, I do have a little pied a terre.
I
just hadn’t got around to mentioning it what with everything else that’s
been going on.”
He paused and thought a moment before continuing. “I wouldn’t feel right
staying here and freeloading, to say nothing of the difficulty a pair
of
kosher parents are going to have with someone who actually lives off
the
unclean bits.” He grinned, almost apologetically, then flashed a wicked
grin and began to speak in a high pitched, pseudo-feminine voice. “Rabbi
Goldman. The blood is there for uum … research purposes. Yes, that’s
right.
Our little Willow. You know what she’s like.”
Willow looked at him uncomprehendingly for a moment and then began to
laugh
helplessly. The image of her mother explaining bags of blood to a rabbi
was
priceless.
Spike looked around and said “Well, that’s the last of it luv. You ready?”
Willow nodded, and hugged him quickly before getting into the driver’s side cabin of the rented removal truck.
Spike climbed in as well and started the engine. “Have I ever told you how much I hate driving lorries?”
“Ummmm … roughly forty-seven times today.” She grinned at him, teasing.
Spike laughed as he pulled out from her parent’s driveway, heading towards his apartment. In the back was all of his furniture from storage and everything that Willow had wanted to take with her. She had tied up all the loose ends at her parents home, sent them a voice mail message including her new address, telephone and cell phone numbers and the name of her boyfriend ‘William T. Blood.’ She still got giggles from the name Giles had improvised. After much soul searching, she had decided not to let Angel know about her move, and had asked everyone else to avoid mentioning it to him as well.
They drove uneventfully to their new home, and began to unload. {Having a vamp around the house make’s moving and stuff easier.} Willow mused. {Vamp about the House, why does that sound like a TV show?}
She began to help Spike move all their possessions into the ground floor apartment that Spike now owned. It was as she was doing so that she realised that they were not going to be finished by sunrise. “Spike, I guess we better get the bed out and in place now, so when it gets light we can at least sleep in comfort.”
Spike glanced up, and seeing the vague light of false dawn, nodded. He jumped into the back of the truck and moved the bed out, Willow appearing to help him, but was in fact only guiding the bed as Spike took the whole weight. Once they got it into the bedroom, Willow dragged open a carton brought in earlier and threaded heavy black drapes along the curtain rails. “Good, now we’re okay for the day.” She smiled at him and then moved into another embrace. “How did I get so lucky?” She asked him.
Spike grinned down at her, smiled enigmatically and pulled her into a long and very passionate embrace.
* * * *
The following evening saw Spike and Willow complete the unloading of the truck, on this occasion with some help from their friends. Xander and Giles helped with the heavy lifting, while Anya and Cordelia assisted Willow in the arrangement of the furnishings and Spike returned the truck. The telephone lines had been connected, and Willow logged in to check her email accounts, to find a letter from her parents, letting her know that they were expecting to return in less than a week. They included an invitation for Willow and her new partner to come to dinner. She decided to break the news to Spike later, once they were alone.
“So, are we going to see you two at all?” Anya asked. “Or will you be too busy in your little love nest?”
Willow blushed at Anya’s blunt questioning and turned to go into the kitchen. She looked around at the mess still in place and decided to put coffee on. As she rummaged around, hunting out mugs and additives, she listened to the others talking. She could hear the ease with which Cordelia was fitting back in, and the real pleasure that she brought to them with her witticisms and tactlessness. She smiled, pleased that one of those she thought of as ‘the originals’ had returned. {All we need now is for Buffy to get better.} She thought happily.
As she brought the coffee into their new lounge, she smiled. Every seat was occupied, so she would just have to perch on Spikes lap. {Oh, the hardships I suffer for love.} She thought gleefully. She slid the tray with the coffeepot and all it’s associated paraphernalia onto the table and then walked over to sit on the blond’s welcoming lap.
Spike wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck, mock biting, and even slipping into game face for a moment just to bait Xander. Then he looked at his little redhead very seriously. “Red, with you here, my hands are a touch occupied. Can you reach into my duster …”
Spike was interrupted by a chorus of shocked complaints, laughter and--from Anya--a very coarse comment.
“Bloody hell! People complain about me having a one-track mind, but you lot are … are. I’m speechless, totally bloody gobsmacked.”
Spike unwound a hand from Willow’s waist and reached into the upper inside pocket of the coat. He drew out a long legal envelope and gave it to her. “What’s this?” She asked, confused.
“Well, if you don’t open it, you’ll never bloody know.”
Willow giggled as she opened it. He sounded almost like her one elderly uncle, crotchety, irritable and impatient. She drew out the document and opened it. As she read, she began to blink and gasp, she lost all her composure and eventually waved the document at Xander. He took the papers from Willow, read them and then looked at her. “I don’t believe it,” Xander murmured. “I just don’t believe it.”
Meanwhile Willow had buried her head into Spike’s chest and was crying. Spike stroked her hair soothingly, a small grin on his face.
Giles, frustrated by all the emotional tension eventually stood up and took the papers from Xander’s hand. He read them through and then looked at Spike. “This is very handsome of you. Thank you.”
Spike grinned and looked down at Willow, once she had stopped crying.. “Happy being a member of the propertied classes pet?”
Cordelia and Anya looked blankly over at the redhead. “Spike gave me a half share in this apartment!” Willow was so excited she got flustered and began to hyperventilate. Cordelia ran to the kitchen and grabbed a paper bag. “Breathe, hon. Breathe.” Cordelia instructed. Spike gently lifted Willow and put her into the chair he had been occupying, and allowed Cordelia to continue her ministrations.
Anya came over and embraced him, then looked him straight in the eye. “I hope Xander learns from this.” Anya said, in a voice she intended Xander to hear. She kissed Spike on both cheeks and then went back to sit next to her lover.
Cordelia just smiled at Spike as she continued to help Willow get over her shock. She was brushing the little redhead’s hair now, soothing her. Xander and Giles were both stunned by the empathy that Cordelia had developed over the previous two years. Obviously her time in LA had been good for her, although to hear her tell it, it wasn’t good to her.
As Willow regained her composure, she looked up at the bleach blond who had, somehow, become the centerpiece of her life. “Why, Spike? You know it wasn’t necessary.”
“Several reasons pet. First, and most importantly, I wanted to. Second, because we can’t actually marry, what with me being technically dead ‘n’all, It sort of symbolises a life for us together. Thirdly, if you look closely, my name of the title deed is William T. Blood, the identity you started to build for me after Ripper there had his warped inspiration. Lastly, and least importantly, by making you co-owner, we guarantee that any vamps other than me will need an invitation to come in. I like it,” he continued, “when the right thing and the practical thing are one and the same. It happens so rarely.”
As Spike finished speaking, Willow leant over and kissed him once more. “Is there a vampiric version of marriage?” she asked.
Spike looked at her oddly. “Why do you ask pet?”
“Curiosity mainly.”
“Well, I’ll explain some of the usual customs a little later. Does anyone know how Sl … er The Mutant is?”
“Who?” Came a chorus of four voices.
Willow interjected to explain. “When Spike discovered that Buffy wasn’t a slut, he decided that he should call her something else.” Giles began to look a little uncomfortable as she spoke.
Willow looked at three uncomprehending faces. “Spike explained it to me. Slayers are normally like Faith, not Buffy, only less evil than she is. Faith I mean, not Buffy. So, when he met a Slayer who’s name could be made to rhyme with something like that…” Willow blushed again as she came to a halt in confusion.
“What my delicate little flower of maidenly rectitude is trying to say, is that all slayers before the current holder of that dubious title were trollops who’d shag anything that moved, and if it didn’t move they’d try and wake it up. However, none had ever gone so far as to shag a vampire. So when I saw her with the hots for Peaches, I drew a perfectly natural, albeit erroneous, conclusion. It therefore only seemed appropriate to find another term for her.”
Xander blinked and muttered, “Did he just sound more like Giles than Giles, only smuttier?” Anya looked at Xander and began to snigger.
Cordelia looked over at Giles, holding in her laughter. “Is this true? It sounds true. I always thought Buffy dressed … well, you know.”
Giles looked discomforted. He took his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose. As he did so, he sighed. “Well, actually … yes. It is. The Council likes to keep quiet about it though.”
Willow giggled as she made finger quotes. “‘Do you want to hang around skanky hos’; and skanky hos’ in training? If so apply now to the Watchers Council. Call 1-900 …” Willow came to a wheezing halt as she started to laugh so hard she fell off Spike’s lap.
Spike said “Some bloody flower of maidenly rectitude you are!” as he bent down to kiss her and lift her back into his lap.
Giles looked at the rest of the group, vague disapproval warred with his quirky sense of humour; both showing on his face.
“Well, it’s not a very good advertisement. I mean, we are meant to be the stout hearted heroes.” Giles grinned at them as his sense of humour won the struggle.
“Talking of Buffy, what’s the latest?” Cordelia asked
“I spoke to her Doctors two days ago.” Giles answered. “It’s a blessing now that we’ve been given full access. Anyway, they’re very happy with her progress, and they’re tapering her off the anti-psychotics. Then, however, comes the hard part, readjusting her with psychotherapy. We have to be as supportive as possible and, I hate to say this Willow, but perhaps you should stay in the background at first.”
Willow looked saddened but nodded. “It’ll be hard for me, Giles. But I do see the need for it. She’s my friend too.” She smiled wistfully at the Watcher, sighed and lay her head back on Spike’s chest.
Cordelia realised that the slowly growing tension needed to be broken, so she looked at Spike, and asked brightly. “You were going to tell us vampire stuff.”
Spike looked at her and shook his head. “The Poof didn’t fill your head with stories while you were in la-la land?”
“La-la land?”
“Yeah, la. Ell Ay.” Spike shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know why I try at times.”
“So, Junior, impart to us your wisdom.” Xander quipped.
Spike took a breath and began. “Listen carefully. I’m a Master Vampire. You know that. What you don’t know is that one of the responsibilities of a Master is to teach, to impart knowledge. In fact, it’s the origin of the term. A Master helps the fledglings survive. You all know how old I am, so you also know that my schooling was Victorian. I will be testing you on all of this, and I will expect you to be ready with the answers, or face the consequences.” He grinned as four faces looked at him confused, as Giles tried to smother an impish grin. Spike looked over at the Watcher and said “Tell ‘em what I mean, would ya mate.”
Giles grinned maliciously, pure Ripper, as he began to speak. “Spike is saying that the only educational system he experienced was that of Victorian England. At that time, corporal punishment was considered an excellent motivator. So, if you don’t live up to his standards, he’ll cane you.”
Giles gestured for quiet in the uproar that followed. Spike watched closely, and noticed it was primarily Cordelia and Xander who were complaining. Willow appeared to be but her protests lacked the fire that he would normally associate with her reacting in opposition to such an outrageous statement. Anya looked amused, almost as if she intended to wield the cane, rather than receive it. As Giles gestures eventually quietened the protests, he continued. “Given some of your research failures lately, I think it’s a bloody good idea.”
Giles grinned openly as four faces turned to him, shocked. “Good, now we have your complete attention, we can begin.” Giles ducked as Xander threw a cushion at him.
“Who here knows what a vampire is? I don’t mean the propaganda that you hear, I mean what is a vampire’s function, it’s place on the food chain?” Spike began. {He really is a damn good teacher.} Willow thought. {What, precisely, does he mean?}
Spike saw the confused looks and sighed. “A vampire is a predator. It hunts and kills other creatures to survive. So, what does being a predator mean, socially?”
Again he got puzzled looks, but this time Willow suggested an answer. “Not very social. Small groups, dominance based social functions.” As the others looked at her she defended herself. “I watch Discovery Channel.”
Spike beamed. “You’d be teacher’s pet, if you weren’t already.” He grinned as he continued. “Willow’s right. Vampires don’t socialise easily. And what socialising is done is primitive and all based on dominance. You all saw how Angelus behaved towards Dru and I.”
“How does this relate to getting married, Junior?”
“Think about it Chubs. If all vampiric social interaction is based on dominance, doesn’t it follow that sexual relationships and marriage or it’s equivalents would also be based on dominance?”
Xander looked at Spike, and asked, “Where did this come from? How come you’re talking like this? To us I mean.”
Spike blinked and thought. “Bloody Hell!” He shouted. “May all the Gods forgive me, but … but … I’m beginning to like you plonkers.”
Willow laughed delightedly. “Now you see what I love about him Xand. Not the façade, it’s what’s underneath. This is the real Spike.”
Spike cleared his throat intrusively. “However touching this all is, the lesson isn’t over yet. Ripper, I may need those canes you keep in the closet.”
“What … but … how…” Giles stuttered as he blushed
“Simple, I used to live here. I looked around.”
Cordelia and Anya looked curiously at Giles, Xander was opening his mouth repeatedly without any sound emerging, and Willow blushed furiously.
Spike grinned and continued. “Vampiric bonding covers a range of issues and connections. You know about the Sire to Childe bond. After all, Peaches waffled on enough about it. There’s a similar bond through a bloodline, although it become attenuated by distance.”
Cordelia interrupted. “Again with the big words. Just say what you mean.”
Spike shook his head and looked over at Giles. “Youth today. I just don’t know.” He grinned wickedly. “Attenuated. It means lessened, ducks. So, as I was saying, the link between Dru and I is stronger than that between Angel and I, et cetera. Now, there are other bonds as well. When two vampires mate, it’s much like marriage, but the necessary exchange of blood, and the intent of the ritual, to bind the two together, creates a link similar in strength to a Sire to Childe bond. Often, a Sire and Childe will mate, and that increases the intensity of both bonds.”
Seeing everyone strongly focused on what he was saying, he continued. “The other bond made between vampires is the Bond of Fealty. This is socially the most significant, and is always capitalised in its written form. It represents the undertaking by a Master to provide protection to his or her minions in exchange for their service to the Master. It dates from feudal times, and is still applicable today. After all, feudal society was also based on dominance. Does everyone understand what I’ve said?” In response to the nods, Spike said “Okay then, questions?”
“What, none at all? Damn, I must be a good teacher.”
“Okay, Fangless, If this ‘Fealty’ thing is so important, why do you burn minions, who you’re supposed to protect, to keep us distracted.?” Xander asked, desperate to take Spike down a peg after his arrogant comment.
Spike grinned. {Works every time.} “I didn’t. I hired those blokes. I wouldn’t set minions up like that. It gets a Master a bad name.”
“Well, why is dominance so important?” Giles asked, acting as a plant for Spike.
“Simple really. It determines who feeds when. The most dominant vampire feeds first, has the choicest kill.”
“Bad case of TMI here, Deadboy Two.” Xander interjected.
Spike shook his head. “You want to learn, Moron? If not, push off and let the rest of us get on with it. Any more questions?”
“Yeah.” Cordelia volunteered. “According to you, you can sense Drusilla the strongest, and Angel less strongly, right?” Spike nodded. “Well,” Cordelia continued, “is it like a distance thing?”
“That’s a damn good question. The trouble is, there isn’t a real answer. I can sense the bonds better if I concentrate, and if I’m absorbed by something else, I don’t notice them at all. Distance doesn’t seem to be an issue so much, but it is relevant. When Dru was kicking around in Brazil, I could hardly sense her even when I did think about her. And at first, I thought about her a lot.”
“So that’s why Drusilla was able to cold cock Angel a few months ago!”
Spike nodded as he amended her comment. “If he was focused on something else, then yes, he wouldn’t sense her even if she was next to him. All the bonds are like that.”
Spike drew in a breath. “There are also bonds between vampires and humans. Do you want to hear about them?”
“Oh no! I so don’t want to hear about them that we’re leaving. Anya, lets go home.”
“But I want to hear this Xander. I knew about the vampire bonds, but I didn’t know they could be formed with humans.”
“But Anya, hon. I want orgasms.” Xander included a teasing tone and looked at his lover with a puppy dog expression. In the background, he could hear Cordelia gasp, shocked, and Willow giggling quietly.
Anya may have been naïve regarding human norms of behaviour, but she was not stupid. It was obvious that Xander was trying to manipulate her, even using her own faux pas against her. She decided to be stubborn. “Honey,” she began, cuddling into Xander. “You keep saying that we have to get our priorities right. Learning about these bonds is far more important than, what did you call it once … that’s right, a few moments of fleeting bliss.” Anya smiled sweetly at Xander as she locked him into listening.
“So, we’re all decided?” Spike asked, in a deliberately schoolmasterish voice. “Good, then before we move on, it’s pop quiz time. Ripper, I’ll need those canes about now.” He grinned evilly. The multiple looks of shock were a wonderful reward. Knowing that he couldn’t hurt humans meant that some effective terrorising was an acceptable substitute.
Giles went over to the closet to remove the two canes he kept there, a reminder from his early days on the Watcher’s Council when he had worked as the Latin Master at an English public school. He handed them to Spike with a completely straight face and without a word.
Spike grinned as he looked around. “I guess I’ll start with you. I call Willow Red, because of her hair, but I think calling you ‘Blackhead’ just wouldn’t be the same.”
Cordelia looked shocked as Spike delivered the slightly spiteful witticism. “You can call me Cordelia.”
“Nah, that’s no good. I never use people’s real names. Let’s think a moment. Darkie would have been okay back home when I was a lad, but the connotations are wrong here. Blondie just doesn’t work; No one understands irony any more. Okay, I got it, you’re Virtue.” At the confused look, he explained. “Your name is Cordelia Chased isn’t it?”
“Chase. No D at the end, Deadboy. I guess decomposition is catching up with you.”
Spike glared at the pert brunette, and nodded. “So the word play didn’t work. A chase is a hunt, so what about Huntress?”
“That’s way cool.”
Spike smiled to himself as he considered the wordplays possible. “Well, Huntress, what’s the most important of the bonds?” He asked as he flexed the whippier of the two canes.
“The Bond of Fealty.”
“Good.” Spike acknowledged as he turned to look at Xander. “Now Chubs, your turn. Who is the bond stronger between? Drusilla and I or Drusilla and Angelus?”
Xander looked at Spike. “How come I didn’t get the easy question?” Spike looked at the young man levelly and flexed the cane significantly. “Ummm … I guess…” Xander stammered, “they would be equal.”
Spike smiled as he remarked, “Well done Chubs, one day you may learn to reason.”
Now, Red, your turn. “How would a vampire establish dominance with a human they didn’t intend to kill or bite?”
Willow puzzled for a moment. She knew that Spike was too good a teacher not to have included all the relevant information. {Vampiress are predators, they control one another with violence, they protect their kills, they warn others off by intimidation. Do they intimidate herbivores? Yes, lions scare off animals close to their prey regardless of their habits.} “Intimidation?” she ventured.
Spike nodded. “Yes pet, now see if you can work out the kind of intimidation.”
She watched him and thought about his behaviour during the ‘lesson’. “Physical violence or humiliation?”
“Well done luv. Really good. It’s a pity though, ‘cos now I won’t get a chance to spank you.”
Willow blushed from the roots of her hair to her neck, and possibly further, but her tee shirt stopped anyone from telling. {Oh Goddess! That’s so embarrassing.} She felt her body respond to what Spike had suggested and blushed even more. {Help! I find the idea of him spanking me exciting! What’s wrong with me?}
Spike, unaware of what he had just triggered in Willow’s mind, held her close, but almost absentmindedly. He looked at the clock and said, “I better move onto the other issues, it’s getting late for you lot. So; the vampire to human bonds. There are two common bonds. The Pet, which is a bond created by the exchange of blood accompanied by a ritual. It creates a human plaything for a vampire. A plaything which is dependent on the vampire for it’s continued existence. That is, if the vampire dies, so does the pet. As a result, the pet will do anything necessary to keep the vampire alive. The other is called a Servitor Bond. It normally has to be instituted with a ritual and the human taking the blood of the vampire, although certain vampires can project that bond without any ritual or blood. Chubs discovered that the amusing way. Here endeth the lesson.”
In short order, Spike and Willow saw their friends off, waving to them.
Spike and Willow were curled together on the sofa, watching television.
The
redhead looked up at the blond, and saw he was mentally drifting, thinking
rather than watching the images flickering before them. She realised
that
this would be a good time to broach the topic of her parents. “Spike,
I
need to talk to you about something.”
He looked at his lover and smiled. “Sure pet, what is it?”
“Well, you remember that I told my parents that I was moving in with
you
and stuff?” Spike nodded. “They sort of want us to come over for dinner,
next Thursday.” She finished the sentence in a rush.
“They what?” Spike looked confused. “That could get … complicated pet.”
“I know,” Willow sighed. “I wonder what they would find least threatening.
Or would least interesting be best?”
Spike looked at her. “Why don’t you tell me about your parents. The
mundanities pet, not the emotional stuff.”
Willow nodded. “Mom’s a psychologist. Dad’s an Anthropologist. They’re
both
academics in the worst sense of the word.”
“So, you want an academic who is reasonably removed from their field,
but
not drastically opposed? How does that sound?”
“Perfect, but you couldn’t…”
Spike interrupted. “Hush pet. Doctoral Student, History, thesis topic
Inter-class Social Interactions in Late Victorian England.” He grinned
widely.
“But … but…”
“Remember pet, I lived it. I can wing it for a night. We make my school
the
University of Exeter, an obscure school, last I heard and we should
be
okay. The only other viable option is folklorist, specialising in vampire
myths.”
“History is much better.” Willow answered, smiling timidly.
“I thought so too, pet.”
* * * *
“So, handsome, do I look acceptable?” Willow asked her lover.
“Pet, you’re always stunning. Also, I think you’re dressed appropriately
for your parents, which is what you were asking.”
Willow laughed nervously. She had finally started to get her blush reflex
under control, in part due to Spike’s continually risqué conversation.
“You
look good as well, although I really wish you had gone with something
other
than black, lover.”
“C’mon luv. It’s a dress shirt, slacks and proper shoes. If I changed
the
colour as well, I wouldn’t know meself.”
Willow sighed. She recognised that Spike would continue to be Spike,
whatever he did. “Okay Mister, one more time. You’re a doctoral student
researching archives here. You know your thesis topic. We met and you’re
trying to transfer here. You have Porphyria so you can’t go out in
daylight. Working class boy made good. That’ll explain the scar.
“I know luv, I know. I’m a bad guy. We’re good at telling porkies.”
“Telling what?”
“Porkies. Oh, yeah. Sorry pet, it’s rhyming slang porkies are pork pies,
which rhymes with lies.”
“I think I’m sorry I asked.”
Spike grinned at her. “It’s useful Red. It started life as a thieves
cant.
A code so the police and informers wouldn’t understand what the bad
guys we
talking about. We could use it like that.”
Willow chuckled. “It’d take me ages to learn all the words and
abbreviations though.”
“It’s okay pet, we’ll have a long time.” He flashed a dazzling smile
which
made her weak at the knees momentarily. “You ready luv?” Willow nodded.
“Let’s go then.”
The pair got into the DeSoto and drove off, making the short journey
to
Willow’s parents uneventfully. Pulling into the driveway, however,
things
ceased to be uneventful. As they got out of the car, a crossbow bolt
flew
silently from the darkness of the hedges and narrowly missed Spike.
He
immediately pulled Willow down beside him, using the vehicle as cover.
“Red, I need the demon. I need to see properly.” Spike whispered. Willow
just nodded and Spike let his game face emerge.
He lay flat on the ground, looking under the car. “There’s two over
there
pet. One behind the hedge on the other side of the streetthe shooter
I’d
guess. The other is closer, behind that tree to your left. Now, what
we’re
going to have to do is this. I want you to climb back into the car,
but
keep under the height of the window and turn the radio on, loud, full
volume. Stay inside the car. Got that?” Willow nodded. “Okay pet, off
you go.”
As Willow scrambled, crouching low, into the car and turned on the radio,
Spike drew his knife and tensed, ready to move as quickly as his enhanced
abilities allowed. He suddenly broke into a low sprint, moving faster
than
the human eye could see. He reached the tree unobserved and thrust
the
blade into the lurker. It was a killing strike, between the ribs and
through the lung into the heart. Even as he killed his opponent, he
screamed in agony, dropping the blade and grasping his head. Through
the
surges of pain, he thought <I wasn’t expecting a bloody human.>
Willow heard Spike’s shriek, and saw the bowman step out and move towards
the sounds. At the same time, her parent’s outside lights switched
on. She
stood, took out a crystal and threw it, chanting. A bright flash dazzled
both she and Spike, and afterwards, she saw that her spell had worked.
The
bowman had gone, leaving the crossbow alone on the ground. Spike had
been
crawling away from the corpse, and, as she did so, his moans of pain
attracted Willow. She ran to him, and was lifting him as she saw her
father
looming over her.
“Willow, is that you, dear?”
“Dad? Ummm yes, it’s us.”
“What happened?”
“Spike walked into the tree and hit his head. Can you help me get him inside?”
“Uh. Yes. Let’s get him inside shall we?”
Spike realised what was happening, and realised he had to play along.
Acting up, he let himself loll a little and stagger as Willow’s father
helped him inside. He brought up one hand to hold his head above the
hairline to avoid awkward questions about a lack of bruising.
As he was carried inside, Willow hovered around anxiously, hoping Spike
wasn’t too shaken up to realise what was happening. Her father got
him into
an armchair in the lounge and went to tell his wife what had happened.
Sheila Rosenberg came in to see Spike apparently stunned, and her daughter
stroking his head and soothing him. She smiled. She had never seen
Willow
like this, even with that little musician.
Spike began to appear to recover. He started to make motions and movements
in a more coherent and lucid manner than he had previously. She looked
up
at Willow’s parents and smiled tentatively. “I’m terribly sorry. This
really isn’t the first impression I had hoped to make.” Without him
realising it, that sentence had won over Willow’s mother. He was young
and
courteous to his elders, something she thought in short supply nowadays.
Spike began to ease Willow away, apparently indicating his ongoing
recovery. He got to his feet, artfully wobbling very slightly, and
formally
greeted both of her parents. It was his old world courtesy that made
Ira
Rosenberg think that perhaps there was more to the young man than perhaps
met the eye. Spike let himself appear to return slowly to normal over
the
next few minutes.
Willow sighed, the grilling had not taken long to start, once her parents
were sure Spike was not concussed. It was total, and started right
at the
basics. She watched on, helpless to intervene.
“You said your name was William … Blood?” Sheila asked.
Spike nodded, “That’s right. We don’t normally use the middle initial
in
Britain, so I tend to forget people expect it here.” He smiled apologetically.
Ira decided to follow up. “So … William, why are you here in the U.S.?”
“Please, I do prefer Spike. I know that must sound silly to you, but
I’ve
been known by that name longer than my real one. Why am I here? Well,
I
originally came to Sunnydale to examine some archives relating to my
thesis, but, having met Willow, I’m now trying to transfer to UCS from
the
University of Exeter.”
“Don’t you think that you’re both moving terribly quickly?” Sheila asked.
Willow interjected. “Mom, I’ve known Spike,” she emphasised the name,
“for
nearly a year. We’ve been friends for a lot longer than we’ve been
… together.”
Spike picked up the flow of conversation and moved it along smoothly.
“That’s right, Mrs Rosenberg, we became friends because we both tended
to
stay late in the library, researching, and simply started to talk.
Little
things at first, but the discussions grew and … well, I’m sure you
know how
it is.”
Ira looked at Spike, finding the apparent dichotomy between his appearance
and his apparent academic leanings difficult to swallow. “What is your
thesis title, William.” Ira was pleased at that, letting this young
pup
know that he wasn’t about to cater to his ego.
Spike, aware of what Ira was trying to do, responded politely. “My thesis
title is ‘Inter-class Social Interactions in Late Victorian England.’
It’s
a simple Ph D thesis; but I’m also considering expanding it into a
D Litt.
That’s why I came here. The former Spanish influence here provides
a very
interesting model to use in comparison to Victorian London.”
Willow was thinking and watching. <He was right about telling lies
and
making them believable. He’s already got Mom eating out of his hand,
and
he’s working on Dad now.>
Ira looked taken aback. He had not been expecting to hear that. The
lad
certainly seemed to be what he claimed, a post graduate student. And
a good
one at that, if he felt he could get a Doctor of Letters degree.
As dinner continued, Spike spoke flippantly and seriously by turns,
as the
conversation moved. Willow was astonished, until she recalled that
witty
and intelligent dinner conversation was considered de rigeur amongst
middle
and upper class Victorians. Spike would have learnt that literally
at the
knees of his parents. She could see that he had won her mother over
very
early in the evening, and that he was devoting more time to her father
now.
Realising that she would need to keep her mother occupied, she started
asking her questions about her latest research project. With Spike
and Ira
in deep discussion about Victorian poetry, and it’s relevance to the
society of the time. (And Willow giggling inwardly at what she heard
of
their discussion) The dinner and after dinner conversation was just
like
any other at which academics were the majority of the guest list.
Ira smiled happily. He was now certain that his daughter had found herself
someone worthy of her intellect; all he really needed to know was whether
‘Spike’ could afford to keep his daughter appropriately. “Spike,” he
asked,
stumbling slightly over the nickname, “how do you intend to support
Willow?”
Willow heard the question and reacted. “Dad! That’s not right! Do you
support Mom? No, she works herself. I intend to work as well, so don’t
go
there.”
Spike, who being much older, was prepared for the question, stepped
smoothly in, before Ira could get angry with his daughter. “I have
a
certain level of … private means. I know that, at first glance, that
doesn’t seem to gel with my background, so let me explain. When I was
nineteen, my parents were killed in one of the last IRA attacks in
London.
Because of the nature of the conflict, the survivors and their families
received significant amounts of compensation. Being an only child,
I also
inherited my parent’s property. It was only a small terrace house in
North
London, but, as I’m sure you’re aware, property values there are
astronomical. I sold the house, and when I added that money to the
compensation, it left me comfortable, especially out here where the
costs
of living are much lower.”
<Damn! He’s got an answer for everything.> Was the thought that immediately
went through Willow’s mind.
Ira looked somewhat surprised or bemused by what Spike had said, so
he
asked. “Do you have internet access here?” Knowing perfectly well that
they
did. When Ira gave the unnecessary affirmation, he looked at Willow
and
asked “Red, love, can you log on and find a London based Real Estate
site?”
“Sure. I just need to use the desktop.” Willow got up from the table
and
went into her parents’ study. About five minutes later, she returned
and
said. “It’s on the screen Dad, along with a currency converter. You
aren’t
going to believe what you see.”
Willow sat next to Spike, resting her arms amongst the detritus of the
dinner. “Mom, that was lovely. Thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome … Red.” Sheila smiled. She was astonished
at the
change in her daughter. Willow was more confident, more outgoing than
she
had ever seen her before. She was fairly sure that it was the work
of this
startlingly handsome blond who had so engaged her little girl. Even
his pet
name for her somehow seemed appropriate.
Willow smiled at Spike, they seemed to have pulled it off. Spike looked
at
Sheila and asked “Do you mind if I smoke inside, or would you rather
I went
out?”
Sheila looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then said, “I’d really
rather
you smoked outside please.”
Spike smiled and went outside. He could hear Willow and her mother talking
about inconsequentialities. Quickly, he began searching for the corpse.
He
found it, withdrew the blade and began to check the body. There was
nothing
in any of the pockets. This was too well planned an ambush for him
to feel
happy. He saw that he would need to move the corpse, and carried it
three
houses away before dropping it. As his fingers trailed over the hands
of
the dead man, he found a ring. Removing it, he stood up, lit a cigarette
and walked back to the porch. Examining the ring in the half-light,
he felt
a cold chill wrap around his unbeating heart. The Order of Taraka.
Walking back in, he resumed his seat and waited for a break in
the
conversation. When it occurred, he looked at Willow’s father and asked
“Did
you like what you saw, Ira?”
“I don’t know that ‘like’ is the right term, how can anyone afford to
live
there?”
“It’s not easy, mate. Even the provinces are pricey by our standards here.”
Sheila interposed, changing the direction of the conversation. “Willow
was
saying something about you being ill?”
“Well, ill isn’t quite the right word. I have a genetic condition called
Porphyria. It explains my lack of skin colour. Essentially, I’m allergic
to
sunlight. If I’m exposed to the sun, my skin cracks and I begin bleeding.”
“Oh, yes.” Ira said, “I’ve heard of it. Isn’t it called ‘The Vampire
disease’ or something like that?”
Spike nodded. “Yes. That’s the one.” His, to them, surprising taciturnity
was taken as an indication he didn’t wish to discuss it further. After
some
more small talk, Spike looked over at the clock and said, “I really
think
we should be going about now. Willow told me that you aren’t habitual
nightowls and what with the crack I gave my skull ‘n’all…”
Both of Willow’s parents nodded, smiling at the obviously inseparable
pair.
“Yes, we quite understand. Now you drive carefully on the way home
W…Spike.” Ira said, almost laughing.
Willow and Spike took their leave, got into the car and drove off. “Pet,
we
have a problem.” Spike announced as soon as they had taken the first
corner.
“What?” Willow asked, realising it probably had to do with the abortive ambush.
“Well, two really. One is minor; your parents will ring tomorrow with
news
of a murder victim being found only three houses away from yours. Yes,
I
moved him luv. The other is far more worrying. It’s this.” He handed
her
the ring.
Willow looked at it. “Oh Shit!”