***************************
~Part: 6~ The Demon Drink, Part 3
The following evening, once again at Giles’ apartment
The now enlarged group sat around, looking at one another. Wesley was still making notes and inevitably, this led to small talk.
“Perhaps I’m being a little pushy,” Willow began tentatively, “but Giles didn’t tell us why you guys moved here from LA. Do you mind if I ask?”
“Well, sweetie, I certainly don’t,” Lorne answered easily. “First, some of Gunn’s playmates decided to hose down my bar. With automatic weapons. They did a lot of damage before I could get the peace spell lifted. Then … just about when I was ready to re-open--and can I just say here, thank the Gods for insurance--some crazed lunatic rolled a barrel of gas down into the place and lobbed a thermite grenade after it. I decided to try somewhere safer. Like a hellmouth.”
“Why? I mean,” Willow clarified, “why did Gunn’s friends shoot up your bar?”
“Well, I’d like to hear Gunn explain that,” Lorne said, smiling innocently.
Gunn glared at Lorne and sighed. “You’re really gonna make me, ain’t ya?”
Lorne just nodded.
“Well,” Gunn began, obviously feeling somewhat awkward. “The crew I used to run with, killin’ vamps and stuff, looking after the locals, well, after I started working for … Wes, they started to do some dumb stuff. Like deciding all demons are bad. Anyhow … one of the crew found out about ‘Caritas’ and thought that they could do the ‘hood some good by wiping out the ‘demon nest’.”
“Goddess, how horrible!” Willow exclaimed.
“Yeah. And, truth be told, it was as much my fault as anyone’s,” Gunn admitted ruefully. “I got so caught up in working with Angel, and later with Wes, that I lost contact with my people.”
“I’m so sorry,” Willow said, and her voice carried her real sympathy. “But what about the other time? Was that your former friends again Gunn?”
“No, that was …” Gunn’s narrative came to a halt as Wesley looked up.
“Well, I think we’re ready,” Wesley said calmly. “One person performs the actual ritual, but everyone in attendance has to articulate the responses. Aloud. There doesn’t seem to be any stringent requirements on location or position for the ritual. It just has to be in close proximity and visual sight of the demon in its present form.”
“And in English … er American English that the rest of us speak?” Cordelia asked; only to receive glares from both Spike and Giles. “Let’s just forget I said that and have a simple explanation Wes.”
Wesley shook his head. He was well aware that Cordelia was a lot more intelligent that she allowed others too see, his brief and ill fated liaison with her while she was still in high school had taught him that. “All right, in simple terms, we all have to be close together, and close to the demon. Inside the bar itself would be best. That would resolve the line of sight issue perfectly.
“Of course,” Wesley continued, “it’s also likely to make things more dangerous for us when we perform the ritual.”
“Well, what’s the night without some danger?” Spike asked acerbically. “So, what’s the drill?” Spike continued, “You do the ritual, we chant at the right places, and what? Run around intercepting flying pint mugs?”
“Without the sarcasm, yes. That’s pretty much it,” Wesley admitted.
“I think we’ve got a better option than that,” Spike said. He then looked at Willow. “Pet, how long can you keep that barrier in place?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never tried to keep it up longer than I’ve had to. But when we were barricaded in by the Knights, I had it in place for a while.”
Spike nodded, “That’s what I thought kitten.” He then looked over at Wesley. “Willow can build a magical barrier that can hold for over twelve hours.”
Wesley blinked. “But how strong is it?”
“It kept all of the Knights of Byzantium at bay,” Willow blushed as she answered, almost it seemed, apologetically.
“Ah … well … I’m sure that would be more than sufficient, Miss Rosenberg.”
“Please, Wesley, call me Willow. We’re working together now, as equals.”
“Very well, Willow then.”
“So, can you explain precisely what we have to do during the ritual?” Giles asked.
“It’s quite simple really,” Wesley answered. I will perform the actual ritual. After each line, you will say the simple phrase ‘Retario,’ and yes, I know it’s not even proper vulgate Latin, Mr Giles. It’s what the ritual demands, however.
“As far as I can determine,” he continued, “The ritual should take about fifteen minutes. The conclusion is reached when all the verses have been intoned and the responses made. The final act is the symbolic anointing of all of those present with the blood and hensbane used in the ritual.”
“That’s really really gross Wesley!” Cordelia complained, articulating the unspoken views of almost everyone else there.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no option. It’s mandated by the ritual,” Wesley said clinically.
“Well, we may as well get ready,” Giles interjected. “We can leave in an hour, after closing ... Oh, Willow, a thought, can you move the barrier with us all inside it?”
The little redhead pursed her lips in thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not. If I centre it on me then it’ll move as I do.”
“Can anyone else think of anything?” Wesley asked. “No? Well then, let’s go.”
* * * *
“RETARIO!” The group yelled in unison for the last time. They held their collective breaths as they waited for the spell to work.
With final crash of glass on concrete, the demon shimmered around them and vanished, leaving only an empty lot. The group all looked taken aback by the success of the ritual. “Well,” Giles said, “that was all rather anti-climactic, wasn’t it?”
“Wesley, How long do we have to leave this gross icky stuff on our foreheads for?” Cordelia asked plaintively.
Wesley answered by opening the bag he had carried in with him and distributing alcohol wipes to everyone. As they were all cleaning up, he looked at Giles and smiled. “It was rather, wasn’t it? Although the barrage of bottles that the creature launched at us … disturbed me.”
“Disturbed you?” Spike almost yelped. “Did you see what it was chucking at us? Laphroaig, Antiquary, Napoleon brandy. All good top shelf stuff. A bloody barbarian, that’s what it was!”
Willow laughed and shook her head. “You really think that’s what was in those bottles, Spike? You should know as well as anyone that they were almost certainly cheap knock-offs.”
Spike sighed. “Yeah pet, good point. But still, it was a bloody dirty trick. And it’s a bit bloody rude when your local vanishes in a puff of smoke!”
“My local what?” Willow asked, confused.
Giles chuckled. “It’s an English term, Willow. It means a bar or pub. Normally the one closest to you.”
Willow shook her head. “Shaw was right,” she said softly.
Spike looked up and grinned. “Good old George Bernard?”
Willow nodded in response.
“Yeah, we really are two people separated by a common language, pet.”
“And, in your case Spike, it’s about as common as can be,” Giles quipped.
“Oi! Who’re you callin’ common, Ripper? Bleedin’ cheek!”
Laughter and complaint mingled good-naturedly as the whole group packed
into their cars and drove away.
~Part 7~ Evil Counsel
Approximately simultaneously with part 6
Buffy looked around, still unused to the moorlands of southwestern England. Even though she had been here for over four months, the landscape still looked alien to her. And the weather … she’d never get used to what she thought of as constant drizzle.
She was on yet another training exercise. Her time was divided fairly evenly between Peter Maugham working with her to overcome her Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and Marcus Adair who was to all intents and purposes her Watcher. Because she was no longer actively slaying, they used the term ‘Observer’ but it meant the same thing.
What she really enjoyed, however, were her bi-weekly study sessions with Dr Geraldson. She found that Rochelle Geraldson was able to make the demons and their history come alive for her in a way that Giles had never been able to. Buffy had acknowledged however, that part of that was because Rochelle was closer to her own age and had the same sort of irreverence that Buffy did herself. Plus, she had excellent taste in clothing, even if it was a touch formal for Buffy’s preferences.
As Buffy read the waterproofed map she carried, she was able to re-orient herself. ‘Why does being left in the middle of nowhere with only a map help me be a better slayer?’ She asked herself. Sighing, she began the long walk back to the Council’s training centre. As she walked, she thought about what had happened to her over the past six months. Her illness, the seizure, her re-location to England, Dawn suddenly becoming a straight A student in the English education system, as well as the most popular girl in school due to her exotic accent and good looks, and the trainingso much more intense here than with Giles.
She began to think again about some of the things Rochelle had said about the motivations of demons and why they tried to take human mates.
* * * *
“The hybrid demons, especially vampires, have a yearning, Buffy,” Rochelle said. “It’s a desire to recapture their humanity. To reclaim the essence of what they remember before they became predators.” Rochelle sighed and then continued. “It’s sad really, because often they believe they are genuinely in love with their human mate. At the end of the day, however, they aren’t. They’ll kill that human as easily as any other. It’s a dangerous delusion, to which both humans and demons are equally vulnerable. Have you ever wondered why it always seems to be young and inexperienced humans that the demons are attracted to?”
“They are?”
“Certainly. You were a virgin when Angel made love to you, were you not? And your friend, Willow has only had two other lovers. Neither of you could be considered … experienced. And then look at all the fairy tales. Who is it who’s ‘sacrificed’? It’s always a virgin. Again the inexperience issue.”
Buffy recalled the shock that went through her as Rochelle had explained it to her. Even Drusilla had made a pass at Xander, admittedly under the effects of that spell, but still, he was also a virgin then. She had to admit to herself that it made a horrifying amount of sense.
“And let’s be honest here, woman to woman,” Rochelle continued. “Most vampires are very very sexy. One reason for that is that physical attractiveness is often a reason for turning someone. So it’s not unreasonable for younger and inexperienced humans to fall for the vampires.”
Buffy nodded. “Yeah, Angel, well he’s just drop-dead gorgeous!” She giggled. “Er, that came out really bad.”
Rochelle’s lips quirked as she asked, “Drop deader gorgeous?”
Buffy burst into laughter, tears beginning to roll down her face. As she composed herself she said, simply, “Thank you. That’s the first real laugh I’ve had in forever.”
Rochelle just smiled. “Buffy, laughing is okay. In fact, it means you’re getting better.”
Buffy brightened. “Yeah, I guess it’s a small breakthrough.”
“So,” Rochelle said, changing the subject, “we should get back to the topic at hand. Demons. Now, I know Mr Giles would have made it clear that they don’t have souls. But did he also make it clear that because of their … soullessness that they have no conscience either?”
“Yeah, he did. But I didn’t really believe him. And, y’know, even when Angel went all bad … it was still like he loved me. Just in a really evil-sick-stalkery-I wanna kill you way. Doesn’t that mean there was like still a conscience there?”
Rochelle nodded. “Yes, but that’s really obsession, not conscience or faithfulness, Buffy. I can understand why you believed that. It’s completely logical. The trouble is, in a sense, you didn’t see Angelus for long enough. If you had, you would’ve seen how his obsessions could shift in the twinkling of an eye. If he had seen someone else he desired, or someone else annoyed him, he would’ve lost interest.”
Reacting to the hurt look on Buffy’s face, Rochelle explained further. “I’m saying this not to hurt you or take away from what you and Angel had, but to try and explain why a demon does what it does. I know it must sound … trite to say this to you, but with Angel, you were far too emotionally involved to become objective.”
Buffy nodded. “Oh, I know that.” She gave a small, rueful smile. “The amount of trouble I got into when he came back from hell …”
Rochelle nodded. “I read Mr Giles reports. He was not … best pleased at the situation, shall we say.” The two women shared a small, conspiratorial smile.
Rochelle looked up at the clock. “The session’s just about over, so do you feel like doing something tonight?”
Buffy flashed the older woman a bright smile. “Sure. Movie?”
“Okay, you pick one and I’ll reserve a viewing booth for us in the recreation facility.”
“Sounds good, Ro. Now I better get over to Dr Maugham or he’ll have a tantrum about me being unpunctual.”
They giggled.
* * * *
Buffy was sitting in the large wingback chair that she always used for her sessions with Dr Maugham. She was thinking back, at his urging, to her time involved with ‘The Initiative.’
“Well, Buffy,” Maugham’s voice was soft and soothing as he gently questioned her, “why don’t you tell me about Maggie Walsh now.”
Buffy nodded. She was very relaxed and felt amazingly calm with Dr Maugham. She began to talk about Maggie Walsh and her projects to him, explaining at length about Riley, and the events that led up to the summoning of the combined entity that was her, Giles, Xander and Willow. It was so easy to talk to Dr Maugham, she thought in the remote recesses of her mind. He was so trustworthy, so gentle. As she continued to talk, Maugham made encouraging sounds and gently directed her memories into particular areas. He seemed to be very interested in Willow’s abilities. Buffy realised that it made sense. The Council had to understand as much as they could about magic, and Willow was a very powerful Wiccan. She may well have done things magically that the Council hadn’t considered.
As Buffy lapsed into a natural sleep, Maugham got up from his chair and walked to the door on the far side of the room. He opened it and looked at the two other Councillors there. “Remember to blur her memories about this session, and you recorded everything?” At their nods he said a single word. “Good.”
* * * *
Buffy was drenched by the unremitting drizzle as she trudged back to the Council Headquarters. She wiped her hands and opened the map again. ‘Only a mile or so to go ... I think. Why did they have to put it in a valley? I can’t see the damn place until I’m on top of it!’
As she crested a last low hill, she saw the centre spread out below her. It was an old manor house. Very stereotypical, she knew. What couldn’t be seen, however, was the large underground complex that spread right through the small valley. A lot of the underground area was taken up by records storage, of course. ‘If these guys didn’t have records,’ Buffy thought, ‘their heads would explode. A lot.’
She began the downhill trek, the final leg to the manor house, dryness and warmth. She was also hyper-alert, all her senses extended to maximum. If the Council trainers planned a mock ambush, this was the most likely place. She moved cautiously down, keeping well away from the small copses of trees that dotted the sides of the valley. Once she got to within a hundred yards or so of the house, she knew there would be no ambush. Smiling, she jogged the last short distance to the main doors and entered.
She walked inside to see Rochelle standing there. “Buffy, that was amazing. You covered ten miles across country in only two hours!”
“I did? I mean I did!” Buffy was surprised. “I was thinking for most of the way.”
“For God’s sake don’t tell Maugham that! He’ll tear strips off you! You know what the man’s like ‘focus, focus, always focus!’ We’ll just keep it a secret,” Rochelle smiled again and Buffy responded.
“Sounds like a deal to me,” she said brightly.
“So, you’ve got an hour’s rest now, right?” Rochelle asked.
“About that, then another session with Dr Maugham.”
“Well, why don’t we go and have some tea? Catch up a bit.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Buffy smiled back.
They walked to the cafeteria and took a small table near one wall. “You’ve got a day off tomorrow, don’t you?” Rochelle asked.
“I do. Yay for me! And nothing to do either. No pressures, no slayage. A real day off!”
“I’m rostered off tomorrow as well. Do you want to go up to town?”
“Town? You mean Plymouth?”
“No, London.”
“Definitely of the yes! I want to go to Harrods!”
“All right then. We’ll need an early start to get to the train station though. I’ll have you woken at five.”
“Five! Well, okay. If we get a lot of time at Harrods.”
“That train will get us there just in time for them opening at ten.”
“Oh. In that case, we’re good.”
“I’d also like to show you Saville Row. There are tailors for women there nowadays as well.”
“Rochelle, let’s … shop!”
“You have a deal, Miss Summers. We’ll power-shop London to a standstill tomorrow. And don’t think I won’t make use of that slayer stamina!” Rochelle grinned at the blonde slayer. “I have to go now, though. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Rochelle smiled as she stood and walked briskly away. ‘It’s so nice to have a girlfriend again,’ Buffy thought.
Rochelle Geraldson entered Peter Maugham’s office and sat down. Maugham looked up at her. “Well?” He asked interrogatively.
“Buffy’s beginning to trust me, as a friend. We’re shopping tomorrow. Harrods and Saville Row. I’ll need to use a Council credit card.”
Maugham shook his head. “That girl is going to run us bankrupt if we aren’t careful. But we need her. Badly. How is the ritual to remove the rogue’s powers shaping up?”
“Slowly. There are multiple problems. Her incarceration is one, but we are also very short on material links and ways to bind the spell to her. It’ll be a slow process, but I expect that we’ll be ready in six months or so.”
Maugham nodded. “I always knew it would take a substantial amount of time. But with Miss Summers here, it could well be for the best. I estimate that it will take another three to four months to realign her loyalties completely. Have you informed her about Angelus as yet?”
“No, I’m saving that for later. I want to loosen her ties to the witch, Rosenberg, first. I’m working on explaining properly what demons are. Not the wishy-washy drivel Rupert Giles fed her. How’s the work with young Dawn coming along?”
Maugham pursed his lips before answering. “Well. She’s developed good friendships at school here, her foreign-ness has helped a lot with that. We’ve been able to intercept all the phone calls and letters so far, in both directions. Some of the most recent ones that Dawn has written have been quite … heated. She feels abandoned. She is moving away from that group in the United States quite effectively.”
“That’ll help,” Rochelle said, smiling, “with Dawn being opposed to the Sunnydale group, it may weaken Buffy’s connections. We’ll get there, Peter.”
Maugham sighed. “I know Rochelle. I’m just impatient. Under that fool Travers, the Council drifted and lost all of its power as a result. We have to resolve this as soon as possible.”
“If we rush it though, we’ll fail completely. We have to regain the Council’s prestige. At all costs.”
~Part: 8~ A Day in the Strife of Willow Rosenberg
Approximately three months after Part 6
The first warning Xander and Anya had was the crashing of glass. The second came only moments later as three Fyarl demons crashed through the remains of the window. The newly married couple were working alone at the shop, checking inventory. Cordelia and Giles had gone out to dinner, a development that Xander still found vaguely disturbing; although by Hellmouth standards, having your surrogate father dating your ex girlfriend was a very trivial matter.
Xander reacted faster than Anya, trying to get to the weapons cabinet for something to fight the intruders with. Even as he reached out for something, one of the demons backhanded him, sending him flying across the room, to land in a crumpled heap. Anya watched cautiously as the trio of demons began to look for something. She had no idea what they were searching for, but they were rifling through the talismans she kept on a rear shelf.
Xander staggered to his feet and lurched towards Anya. She was crouching behind the counter, looking for something. As Xander reached her, he saw Anya pull out a pump-action shotgun. Xander’s eyes bulged as Anya pointed the firearm at the three burglars. “Get out of my shop!” Anya snarled at them.
They turned to look at the slender girl and laughed. “Got what I want. Going,” one growled in Fyarl.
“Drop that right now! Or I shoot!” Anya snapped back in the same language.
The three Fyarl turned as one and began to leave. Anya didn’t hesitate. She fired. A round of bearshot caught one of the Fyarl in the lower spine, but it simply staggered and shrugged off the damage. As they stepped back out the broken window, Anya threw the shotgun down and screamed in frustration. “Why don’t they load these stupid things with silver?” She yelled at Xander.
Xander decided that some questions are best answered by a helpless shrug.
“Well,” Anya asked, waspishly, “are you going to help me chase them? They stole from my store!”
Xander sighed. “What are we going to do when we catch them anyway, hon? Use harsh language?”
Anya stamped her foot. “Xander, get the silver daggers from the display case. And hurry! They’re getting away!”
Xander knew when to stop resisting. Thinking to himself ‘Resistance is futile. God what a Trek-nerd I am,’ he went to the display case and removed the two silver-inlaid blades. He returned to Anya. “Any idea where they went An?”
“They went down the road. Get the car Xand, we have to follow them!”
Xander rolled his eyes as he went to get the car and his wife fumed impatiently, her anger growing with each passing moment.
Xander pulled the car up outside the front of the shop, leaned over and opened Anya’s door. Sliding in, she fixed Xander with a stare. “We have to catch them. They stole my stock! How can I make money if people steal?”
Xander, still thinking in ‘Star Trek’ terms, engaged the drive and moved off, heading in the direction of the Fyarl demons.
“Faster Xander.”
”An, hon, I’m already pushing the speed limit. I could go faster, but if we got pulled over, what would we say?”
Anya glared at Xander, upset about his practicality. She wanted a knight who would charge fearlessly after the foe. ‘Well, what else would someone born in to a feudal society want?’ Anya asked herself rhetorically.
“Look! Look! There they are.” Anya squealed in excitement. Xander swung the wheel hard and accelerated down the quiet suburban road. They were rapidly closing on the three demons now and Xander, still feeling slightly remote from everything, sped directly towards them. The Fyarl demons looked up to see the car hurtling toward them and reacted as any rational creature would, they dived for cover.
The nearest place of safety was an apartment courtyard and the creatures ran in there. Xander brought the car to a screeching halt and almost before it had stopped moving, Anya was out and in hot pursuit, yelling “Stop! Thief!”
Xander followed her as soon as he could. The demons however, weren’t stopping. They crashed through a window and into a ground floor apartment.
* * * *
Spike stood, leaning back against the basement wall. He was dressed in only his jeans and a leather vest. He looked down at Willow, who was kneeling naked before him. He reached out to run one hand through her red hair, letting it cascade sensually between his outstretched fingers before he wrapped his hand around it and pulled her to her feet.
Willow cried out softly as the tug on her scalp sent surges of desire through her whole body and, as Spike pressed his lips hard against hers, she moaned in open need.
Spike broke the kiss and whispered into her ear, “Spanking bench pet. Now.”
Willow managed to gulp and gasp at the same moment. She climbed to her feet and walked quickly to the bench, lying forward on it and allowing her limbs to match the legs of the bench. Spike moved slowly toward her and knelt, cuffing each wrist and ankle in turn to the bench legs. Once Willow had been firmly secured Spike stood back and looked at her, avid.
“Pet, it’s been far too long since we did this.”
Willow looked up, “Spike, we played only two days ago!”
“Q.E.D.”
Willow laughed. “Honestly Spike, I think you’re insatiable!”
“I’d rather be in you pet,” Spike leered back at her.
Willow managed to blush at Spike’s remark. ‘Okay, I’m naked and tied to a spanking bench. Master’s wearing only those jeans and a vest and I still manage to blush? I’m warped.’
Spike leaned over and kissed the back of her neck gently. He then began to slowly, enticingly lick down Willow’s spine. She moaned repeatedly as he teased her with his tongue. He eventually reached the base of her spine and stood up, leaving Willow writhing helplessly on the bench. She could hear him moving behind her, but had no inkling of what was to happen when he swung a leather paddle, striking her butt with enough force to make her cry out involuntarily.
Spike began to rhythmically and methodically work over Willow’s behind, not hard enough to really hurt but with sufficient force to sting and make her skin begin to glow. He could detect Willow’s growing arousal as he continued the paddling. The blond stopped for a moment and ran one finger over her cleft.
The redhead shuddered in her restraints at Spike’s teasing. “Goddess!” Willow cried out. “So good!”
Spike chuckled and resumed the paddling. He had perhaps slapped Willow
four or five times when they heard a massive crash of glass from above.
*
*
*
*
Anya leapt through the shattered window as she chased the three Fyarl
demons. Xander was gaining and only a few yards behind her. As he also
entered the apartment in pursuit of his wife, he thought to himself, ‘Why
does this look familiar?’
Xander had no time for reflection as he rushed after Anya. He heard a series of crashes ahead of him. There was a splintering which Xander thought was a Fyarl demon smashing through the back door, and a strange strangled cry that he couldn’t identify.
He turned into the hallway to see Anya beginning to climb down into the floor via a trapdoor on the floor of the passage, the knife firmly clenched between her teeth.
Again Xander followed, concerned at the repeated sounds of fists and feet hitting something. When he got to the bottom of the steps he turned to see Spike literally thrashing the Fyarl demon, which was attempting to cover itself and fight back. Spike had a small black bat in one hand and was repeatedly belabouring the demon with it, yelling incoherently about privacy, that a man’s home was his castle and voyeuristic demons being all too common on the Hellmouth.
Xander stood, open-mouthed as he saw Spike fully enraged for the first
time. The Fyarl demon was rocking back and forth, obviously stunned and
still Spike continued. Then Xander heard a small voice from behind him.
“Hi Xan. What’s up?”
*
*
*
*
Willow was caught in sheer disbelief. First a Fyarl demon had literally
fallen into the playroom, and Spike had gone utterly berserk. He was a
blur as he beat the demon savagely. Then, Anya and Xander had come down
the stairs in pursuit, she assumed, of the demon. Anya was standing, poised
and ready to strike, if any opportunity presented itself, while Xander
merely looked bewildered.
“Hi Xan. What’s up?” Willow asked, realising that whatever the outcome of the fight was going to be, she was in so much trouble that she would need daylight shipped in to read by.
Xander turned round and his jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A blushing and completely naked Willowhis best friendtied to something while Spike was busily beating a demon up.
‘How on earth do I explain this?’ Willow asked herself.
‘Why’s Willow there, and why doesn’t she look scared?’ Xander pondered. ‘Why did Spike tie her up?’
Spike delivered a final roundhouse kick, landing in a guard position as the Fyarl demon keeled over like a felled tree. He looked up and his mouth fell open as he saw Anya and Xander looking at him.
“What’re you doin’ ‘ere?”
“We were chasing this thief,” Anya said, viciously kicking the unconscious demon in the spine. She bent down to pick up the talisman that the Fyarl had stolen; it looked like a shiny dime in its huge paw. She looked up as she answered Spike. “It stole something from the … oooooooh! I like what you’re doing to Willow!”
“Oh Goddess!” Willow wailed.
Anya walked over to the spanking bench and began to examine it with a proficiency that Willow and Xander both found profoundly disturbing. “Nicely made spanking bench, Spike,” Anya observed. “Good solid construction, hardwoods throughout, nicely padded so Willow doesn’t get the wrong marks. I’ve got some plans for some other devices, if you’re interested.”
“Spanking bench? Spanking bench?” Xander turned from Anya to Spike. “If she doesn't do what you want, you spank her? Trying to keep her in line?” Xander yelled at Spike. The young man’s reaction was immediate. He leapt at Spike, fists flailing wildly.
“Xander! No!” Willow shouted, as Anya tried to pull her enraged husband away and Spike coolly parried the blows that Xander was raining down on him. “Calm down Chubs. Calm down. I’m not harming her.”
“Xander, please!” Willow pled; as Anya lost her already badly frayed temper and reached down to inflict a savage wedgie on her husband.
“OWWWWWWWWWWW! Damn it Anya, that HURT!”
Spike looked over at Willow, her face beet red and almost in tears. “Pet, that really had to’ve hurt him. He didn’t say ‘Great Googly-Moogly’ or ‘Suffering Succatash’.”
Willow giggled in spite of her embarrassing position. She realised she had no option other than to try and handle the situation that had arisen.
“Xander, listen. And listen carefully,” Anya said in a total no-nonsense tone. “Just because you find something unacceptable, it doesn’t mean that others do. And, if you recall, we have tried spanking ourselves.”
“But that’s different An. I wasn’t tied down to anything. You didn’t force me.”
Willow sighed, she realised that there was only one option. She focused her will and forced the restraints apart, with them eventually tearing in a ripping sound that made everyone wince. “See, Xander, I’m not being made to do anything I don’t want to.”
Having said that, Willow concentrated again and a long silken robe appeared. She donned it quickly then slid of the bench and knelt at Spike’s feet. She looked at the floor as she began to speak. “Master, I regret having to do that, and I accept whatever punishment you consider appropriate for damaging the restraints.”
Spike smiled down at her. He was astonished that she had acted in this manner. Astonished and pleased. “We’ll discuss that later, girl. For now though, I think we should all go upstairs and talk.”
~Part: 9~ A Day in the Strife of Willow Rosenberg; part 2
Immediately following the previous part
Spike had fetched Willow a robe to wear before everyone headed up the steps from the basement. As they went into the living room, a still-rebellious Xander was muttering under his breath.
“Well,” Willow said, still feeling the embarrassment of her predicament, “I guess we better get started.”
“Damn straight!” Xander replied. “I want a good explanation Willow.”
“Listen Xander,” Willow snapped, “I don’t owe you an explanation; and I could simply tell you to leave my house. I’m explaining it to you because you’re my friend--and so that you won’t do anything stupid like try to stake Spike. Clear?”
“But Willow …”
“No buts, Xand. Either shut up and listen, or leave.”
Xander nodded, but the harsh look on his face told Willow that this wasn’t going to be easy. She sighed. “Well, Xander, it all began a long, long time ago. Do you remember when we were at junior high and my parents started to leave me alone?”
Xander nodded, mystified.
“Well, do you remember how I was always showing up at school late or with band aids and things?”
Again Xander nodded.
“Well … a lot of those things were caused by me. I used to stab and cut myself. And do you know why? Because my damn parents wouldn’t actually ever punish me! They didn’t even notice me! I not only had to look after myself, I had to punish myself!” Willow felt an odd satisfaction at the look of horror on Xander’s face.
Willow stood and stalked over to Xander and spread her fingers. “See these? See these scars between my fingers? I did all of those with my compass when I was home at night, alone. And these,” Willow pressed on relentlessly, pointing to the scars on the inside of her elbows. “These are glass cuts!”
Xander was shocked and his mouth opened and closed soundlessly as he tried to recover from the assault on his emotions and preconceptions that Willow had made.
“I never said anything to anyone. They’d’ve all said I was crazy. And yes that includes you and Jesse. I was sure I was nuts, or at least a horrible person, because not even my parents loved me!
“The only feeling of love that I had was from the pain. Pain I inflicted on myself. Then Spike came along. While I was getting over Tara going home, I started to talk to Spike. He looked after me while I was depressed, and in a way I looked after him. And one night it all came out. After we started to become involved, I just had to tell him, so he’d know what a horrible person I was.”
”The term you used was vile, pet.”
Willow glared at her lover. “What-ever, Master.”
Spike smothered a chuckle.
“Master? Spike’s the Master of the Hellmouth?” Xander squawked, confused.
Anya burst into peals of laughter. “No Xand! It’s their relationship. She submits to him, so he’s her Master!”
“Like she’s a dog? Is that why he calls her pet?” Xander yelled, incredibly offended at the thought of his best friend as a pet.
“I’m so not a puppy-girl!” Willow indignantly responded.
“Yeah, she won’t even fetch my bloody paper!” Spike quipped, and then became very quiet at the look Willow gave him.
“Now, before we got interrupted, Xander, I was explaining why things are the way they are. You ready to continue?”
Xander nodded, although inside himself he was very unsure he really wanted to hear more.
“So,” Willow took up the tale once again, “I told Spike so he’d know what a bad person I was. And do you know what he did? He told me that I wasn’t the only person like this. That there were other people who do this to themselves and that I wasn’t alone. What had happened, he said, was that my feelings and responses had been all mixed up by my parents neglect. That I was normal! Attractive! And if I needed to feel pain to feel love, then I should have someone do it safely and sanely! That I didn’t have to cut, damage or disfigure myself!”
Willow shuddered for a moment and Spike drew her into his arms. “It’s all right pet,” he said softly, “I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Xander looked appalled. Gathering his wits, he asked a serious question. “Well, if Spike cares for you so much, why didn’t he find you a psychiatrist or something?”
Spike sighed and whispered to Willow briefly. She nodded. Then the blond looked at Xander and began to explain. “Willow’s a very strong-willed person. She feels that she has to be in control, almost all the time. For her, submission is an opportunity to escape those feelings of control and responsibility. It allows her to not be in the position of ‘decision-maker’, and that creates a sense of freedom for her. That, and her masochism, are her parents legacy to her. Now listen, Xander, her desires and needs come from very deep within her. You asked why didn’t I get her help. Well, it’s bloody simple. In theory she could be ‘cured’; but the Willow who emerged from that process wouldn’t be the Willow you know. And I suspect that the cure would only be good until a major trauma occurred anyway. This works for both her and I, and it leaves us happy together rather than making two more people miserable. And Willow gets to be who she is, the person I fell in love with.”
Xander sat there, shocked. “But … but … you’re hurting her!”
Spike nodded. “I am, but only in ways that bring her pleasure and are safe. I don’t harm or damage Willow. Ever.”
Xander looked confused. “Hang on Deadboy, you hurt her, but don’t harm her? That’s impossible!”
“Not at all!” Spike moved like lightening to Xander and gave his ear a quick twist. Two simultaneous yells of “OWWWWW!” echoed around the room.
“See,” Spike said, wincing. “That hurt you but it did no lasting damage, it didn’t harm you. I’m not so sure about me though!”
“Damn it you living Popsicle! It hurts.”
“That was more or less the point, Chubs. Point is though, it hasn’t damaged you, right?”
Xander glared. “What about emotionally?”
Spike smiled. “But that’s you. Because you feel hurt, it doesn’t follow that everyone has the same reaction. When you make that assumption, it’s called ‘Imprinting’. Translating your feelings about an event to someone else and assuming their feelings are identical.”
Xander looked at Spike. “What do you mean? It hurt me, it would hurt anyone!”
Spike nodded. “Yes,” he acknowledged, “it hurt you. There was pain caused. The pain made you angry. What I’m saying is that not all people react the same way to pain. To assume they do invalidates them as people.”
Xander nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, so some people like receiving pain. But that’s only half of the issue isn’t it, Deadboy. What about people who like hurting others.” Xander asked as he ruefully rubbed his ear. “Like you, but you’re a vampire anyway.” he added after a moment.
Spike sighed. “Look, can this wait a few minutes so Willow can get dressed properly? She’s only in a robe. And I want to make sure she isn’t dropping or anything else like that. Why don’t you two,” he indicated Xander and Anya, “go and get a drink or something from the kitchen. We’ll be back really soon.” It was polite, but nonetheless a dismissal.
As soon as they had gone, Spike turned to Willow. “How’re you holding up pet?”
“I want get dressed. I’m incredibly embarrassed, and how on earth did they get here anyway? I wish they’d just go away, but that’s not really what’s gonna happen.”
Spike nodded and embraced the little redhead. “I know pet. As to how they got here, they were chasing that bloody Fyarl demon that fell into the cellar. Demon-girl said something about it being a shoplifter.”
“No way. That sorta thing only happens in movies! Bad movies at that!”
Spike smiled a little. “Know what y’mean pet. But at times life’s like … hey which films have you seen where young ladies are getting paddled?”
Willow smiled. “Only the ones you’ve shown me, dear.”
“More importantly, luv, are you okay? I mean you would’ve crashed out of sub-space without warning.”
Willow nodded. “I’m okay for now. I think the whole freakiness and everything hasn’t caught up with me yet though.”
Spike nodded and embraced Willow once again. “If you start to get drop or anything else happens that seems odd, luv. Tell me and I’ll chuck ‘em out and make sure you’re okay.”
Willow smiled and nodded. “You goddit, Guv’ner,” she said in a grotesque imitation of a London accent.
Spike rolled his eyes and sighed. “Are you going to get silly, pet?”
“Nope, already feeling silly,” Willow giggled.
After Willow had dressed, they returned to the living room, where Anya and Xander had been waiting.
Anya smiled and Xander just nodded. “So, Junior, want to explain about the hurting people?” Xander asked.
Spike sighed. ‘No let-up. Bloody Chubs!’ He thought a little morosely. All he said, however, was, “All right. You want to know about sadism. Since the great poof isn’t here any more, I guess you’ll have to make do with me.” He sat down, scratched his head and began to think.
“Think of it like this. What I do to Willow isn’t damaging her. It hurts, yes. That pain provokes specific responses. It arouses her. In a sense, part of the sadistic element of what we do is foreplay. The rest is about giving or taking control. But it’s voluntary. Willow chooses to let me take control. She chooses her role.”
“Uh huh. That’s what you say, and Willow may even believe it. And who knows, it may even be true. But aren’t you just taking advantage of her?”
“No.” Spike was very dogmatic as he answered. “Not at all. Hell, if Willow didn’t like it or felt exploited, she’d leave. And what could I do to stop her? Bugger all, that’s what. Regardless of anything else, the chip’d stop me! What Willow and I do is just a variation on sex. One we both enjoy and generally it’s done in private. So, Xander, why don’t you tell me about your exploits in kinky sex. I know you’ve ‘done spanking’.” Spike grinned evilly as he turned the tables.
Willow was beginning to get angry and interrupted before Xander could speak. “Damn it Xander, are you listening to what you’re saying?” Willow drew breath quickly and plunged on. “Don’t you even wonder why I’ve become so confident over the past two years? It’s because of Spike! He’s been helping me, accepting me. Not using me!”
As Xander and Spike both looked at Willow in surprise, she seized the opportunity to push on and make it completely clear to Xander just what she felt. “I’ve had three relationships, that’s all. But this is the first where I could be completely myself, completely open. And you seem to think it’s a bad thing ‘cause I get the all too infrequent spanking. Well, Mister, deal with it!”
Xander, now feeling completely out of his depth, turned to Spike. “How come you know about the spanking anyway? And hey! Bare hand versus whips!”
Willow was still seething, and determined to make her friend see that he was wrong, but Spike got in slightly ahead of her. “Get off yer high horse, Chubs. You’ve already said I’m a vampire! I could deliver a bare handed spank that’d break your spine. So that really doesn’t cut it. And you bloody well know it!”
Xander’s eyed almost bulged when he heard Spike mention that. “But … you couldn’t. Not with the chip!”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried. I’d guess though, that if the spankee was willing, the chip wouldn’t activate until it was too late.”
“Yes!” Willow shrieked and jumped up and down. “That’s proof Xander! He loves me. The chip isn’t doing it. It’s Spike. He loves me. Even if the chip breaks down, he loves me!” She flew toward Spike, embracing him and clinging around his neck, her feet dangling an inch or so above the ground.
“Well, I think you two are having a wonderful time, and having lots and lots of orgasms. But, really Willow, it’s not ‘proof’.” Anya interjected. “Spike could be controlling the demon when you play. And the reasons for that could include things other than love.”
Willow looked at Anya, her face clearly depicting the distress the former demon had caused. “But … but … Spike hasn’t damaged me!” Willow said in almost a whimper.
“No, and for what it’s worth, I think he does love you. But just because he hasn’t damaged you doesn’t mean he loves you. You wouldn’t believe how many times someone called vengeance down upon another person just because they were wrong about something like that and it came back to bite them in the ass.”
Willow cocked her head, working through the logic of what Anya was saying. As she did so, Xander seized his moment. “So, Deadboy, who told you about Anya and me?”
Willow snapped back to the immediate and answered. “I told him. It was really just in passing. When we started talking about … stuff.”
“Oh. How come you told him at all? What about privacy?”
“I didn’t notice you being all concerned about my privacy just now! Now Xander, either deal with it or leave.”
Xander held up his hands. “Okay, I’m dealing guy. Just be fair and allow me a bit of time to get used to it all! And if Giles finds out …”
“Don’t worry about Giles,” Willow said, an impish grin on her face for the first time since the whole disaster had started, “I think he strongly suspects already.”
Xander looked shocked. “And Spike’s not dust?”
Willow giggled. “Nope, and Spike explained some reasons why. Sometimes, what Spike and I do is called ‘The English Vice’ … no, not that kind of vice although …” Willow drifted off for a moment. “Er, as I was saying … There seems to be a greater acceptance of it in England and Europe than there is here. And Spike also said something about private schools in England that confused me. But it seemed related to everything.”
“Way too much information there, Wills. I so didn’t need images of Giles doing stuff like that!” Xander squawked.
“So,” Spike interrupted. In part because of visions of Giles being kinky disturbed even him, he decided to end the conversation. “Let’s call it a day. I want to make sure Willow doesn’t have any delayed reactions to the shocks she had. So, don’t be offended, but as we used to say in the old country, it’s time to sling yer ‘ooks.” Seeing the look of total bafflement on Xander’s face he clarified. “I’ll see you to the door.”
Willow smiled, aware that Spike used so many of his British expressions to gain an advantage when talking to Xander. “See ya Xander, Anya!” She called from her seat as her friends were escorted to the door.
~Part: 10~ Definitions of Evil
Approximately two months after Part 9
Willow looked up from her reading, to see Xander in the doorway. He looked drawn and shocked. “Xan, what’s wrong?”
“I-I just managed to get through to Dawnie, on the phone.”
“Goddess! That’s the first time anyone has! What did she say?”
“She told me to go to hell and the rest of us as well. Very bluntly.”
“What?”
“She said we hadn’t called her, hadn’t written her, never answered our phones or letters …”
“Letters? We never got any letters. Or calls. Damn! It’s the Council; it’s got to be. They’re deliberately isolating Buffy and Dawn!” Willow deduced quickly. “We need to talk to Giles. In fact, we need everyone here. Can you call the shop and get them to close up and come over? Then call Wes, Lorne and Gunn. Spike can’t go out at the moment, so we need to discuss it here. I’ll get him.” Xander nodded and headed straight for the phone.
Willow sprinted up the stairs, yelling, “Spike!” at the top of her lungs.
As Willow hurtled into their bedroom, still yelling, Spike awoke with a suddenness he was unused to. “Gods pet, what’s wrong?”
Willow forced herself to calm down and drew a breath. “Xander just spoke to Dawnie. A-And she told him to go to hell!”
“What? Why?”
“I think t-that she thinks w-we’ve been ignoring her. B-but I think it wasn’t us. I think t-the Council have been intercepting her m-mail and phone.”
“Bugger it! We need everyone here now. We’ve got to work something out.”
“I’ve already got Xan calling people.”
Spike nodded, still trying to clear the fog of sleep from his mind. He got out of bed and dragged on his jeans; followed by the same t-shirt he had worn the previous night. Stumbling, he dragged on his socks and boots, almost falling in his haste to dress and begin trying to help Dawn. He’d always liked her, and her mum.
Willow had waited only to drag on sneakers before clattering down the stairs again. She was calling for Xander even before she left the room, demanding an update on the phone calls.
As Willow reached the ground floor, the front door burst open, admitting Giles and Cordelia. Both looked very flustered and out of breath. “We got here as soon as we could.” Cordelia gasped. We sprinted when we weren’t in the car!”
Willow nodded and shrugged helplessly. “Go sit down, let Xand bring you up to date,” Willow said. “Spike’ll be down in a few moments and I’ll go put on coffee and stuff.”
As Willow entered the kitchen, she heard the door being thrown open again, and this time, the voices of Wesley, Gunn and Lorne added to the mix. She reached for the coffee, and then turned to open the refrigerator and remove a blood pack for Spike. Opening the microwave, she placed the pack inside and hit the controls. She then started both coffee and tea, aware that she needed to make a pot because recently Cordelia had become an enthusiastic convert to the national British beverage. Willow wondered for a moment if she and Giles were becoming closer, and if they would ever get past the ‘friends’ stage.
While she was working, she missed hearing Spike come up behind her and jumped when he kissed her neck, causing her to jump in surprise. “Mornin’ pet.”
“Goddess Spike! You scared me!”
“Sorry, kitten. Oh, you did me brekkie!” He kissed her on the forehead. “You’re a darlin’.”
Smiling happily as she finished the preparations, Willow heard the door opened once again. This time it was Anya, the last of the ‘New and Improved Scoobs’; as Spike had been known to refer to them.
* * * *
Giles cleared his throat a little and began to speak. “All right. Now that we’re all up to speed on what’s been happening, we have to try and attempt to resolve things, especially with Dawn. I hate to say this, but I honestly consider that after all this time with the Council, Buffy will be a lost cause, especially after almost a year of intensive … programming.”
“Giles,” Willow asked, her voice eerily calm, “are you saying that you think the Council has been brainwashing Buffy?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, Willow, “ Giles said slowly as he thought his answer through. “I’d say it’s more like a mild version of what some religious cults do. Continually stressing the ‘one true way’ to salvationor in this case the ‘one true way’ to see demons.”
Willow nodded, her calm now replaced by a cold harshness that no-one, other than Xander, could ever recall seeing on her face.
“Be cool, Wills, it’s not like …” Xander’s voice trailed off under Willow’s glare.
“We aren’t going to allow this, Giles.” Willow’s voice was a total monotone. There was no emotion whatsoever.
“Willow,” Giles began tentatively, “I know you dislike the Council, but your reaction seems a …”
Xander interrupted Giles. “G-Man, hold it. There are reasons, which we aren’t going into. I’m with Wills though all the way.” Willow’s grateful smile thanked Xander louder than any words possibly could.
Cordelia, however, was looking from Willow to Xander, and thinking back
to high school. She had suddenly realised what Willow had been reminded
of, and it began to replay in her mind.
Sunnydale high school, first
day of freshman year for Cordelia, Xander and Willow
Cordy watched, with a plummeting heart, as she saw the ‘Four Freaks’,
as she referred to them. Willow, the only girl, dressed in the usual hideous
disarray that she seemed to favour for some reason. Jesse, passably cute
until he opened his mouth. Xander … a total clown and loser and lastly
Alex, short and swarthy, smart but with some major problems. As she recalled
them, Cordy was amazed by her own shallowness then. Jesse had only slightly
more than a year to live, she would become infatuated with Xander and Willow
would become a witch, and then gay, and then the lover of a vampire. Poor
Alex though, she thought back. What happened to him, no-one deserved. She
realised that part of the reason she treated the four with such disdain
was that they had something that she lacked … then. True friendship.
Xander, Willow and Jesse, she knew, went back years, but Alex was a
recent addition to their group, having only been friendly with the other
three for a couple of years.
Then Cordy realised that, even then, the first day at high school, it
was already happening to poor Alex. His hair had been almost crew-cut and
his clothing was far more sombre than it had been previously. Why,
she asked herself, hadn’t she seen that at the time?
Her memory jumped forward some weeks. She saw Alex again, now dressed
in a dark suit, white shirt and scarlet tie. He was carrying a small satchel
as well as his usual backpack and both looked incongruous with the suit
he was wearing. As clear as day, she could see him reach into the satchel
hanging by his side and, almost embarrassedly give pamphlets to Xander,
Jesse and Willow.
She saw the looks of shock on the faces of everyone that Alex approached.
Finally, he approached her, tremblingly proffering the pamphlet. Cordy
saw herself take the pamphlet without even thinking, shoving it into her
bag and adding a totally unnecessary “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Somewhere
… else?”
Alex turned; his shoulders slumped and walked away. Cordelia pulled
the pamphlet out and looked down at the garish cover.
‘The Church of Universal Brotherhood.’ It proudly proclaimed in a hideous
day-glow green. Despite herself, she was drawn on to read the text, aware,
even as she did, that the pamphlet was designed to do precisely that. ‘Enhance
the Power of your Mind, through faith, prayer and determination …’ the
pamphlet began. Cordelia rolled her eyes and screwed the sheet up and deposited
it fastidiously into a trashcan.
Her memory moved ahead a few more weeks. Now she saw herself walking
with Harmony, Aura and Aphrodisia, when they came across the ‘Four Freaks’
talking heatedly. She stopped her friends and listened openly to the conversation.
“But that’s just wrong!” Willow said vehemently. “They can’t just take
you out of school and go off to some dumb commune in Alberta!”
“I don’t have a choice,” Alex sighed. “I really don’t want to go somewhere
that they don’t even have telephones, let alone the internet.”
“When d’you have to, like, leave, man?” Jesse asked.
“Saturday. They only told me yesterday. I’ve only got four days to pack
and to say goodbye to everyone and …” Alex finished with a huge sigh.
“Harsh, man. Real harsh.” Jesse commiserated with Alex.
Xander was, Cordelia could see, tearing up. She nudged Harmony to point
it out and the four girls giggled quietly, mocking his weakness.
“So, we can’t even write?” Xander eventually asked.
“There’s a postal address, but,” Alex replied, defeated, “I have no
idea if they’ll let me have any mail.” The bell rang for class and everyone
began to head away.
Cordy felt an irrevocable movement towards what she knew would be the
final scene in her vision of the past. It was the following Monday at the
school assembly. Principal Flutie read the announcement quietly, appearing
almost genuinely moved. “It’s my sad duty to announce that, yesterday,
one of our students died in a car accident in Utah. I’m sure we’ll all
remember Alex Bailey, one of our honour roll students.”
Cordelia felt tears trickling down her face as she came back to reality.
She looked up at Willow, saying just one word, “Alex.”
Willow nodded, her own eyes brimming with tears.
Spike looked towards his lover, quirking an eyebrow in a gentle interrogative.
“I’ll tell you later, Spike,” Willow answered.
Giles looked at the reaction of the three native Sunnydalers and realised that something in their past had come back to haunt them. He took a calming breath before saying, “I can see that this has opened some old wounds, but I’m afraid that we’ll have to put the old emotions away for this. I want to stress one thing right now. You’re talking about going head to head with the Council of Watchers. A group with limitless resources, some of the best trained combat experts and most powerful sorcerers in the world. Do we want to do this? Should we do this? Can we win?
“Also, remember that the Council holds grudges. They attacked some of us in LA for working with Angel, and also intended to strip Buffy’s powers from her. And the people who arranged for that now run the Council.”
“Giles,” Willow began, “I’ll admit that I’m scared at the idea of confronting the Council, but what they’re doing to both Buffy and Dawn is just plain wrong. We have to. It’s like a moral imperative.”
Giles nodded. “I agree, he said slowly. “We don’t have an option. I just want everyone to know that this will perhaps be the hardest thing we’ve ever done. Also, we’ll have to use guile rather than violence, and stop sulking Spike,” Giles added without missing a beat before continuing. “If we attacked the Council directly, we’d all be killed. It’s that simple.”
“So what do we do, Giles?” Cordelia asked.
“What we have to try and do, dear,” Giles answered a little absently, “is to try and get the girls away from any ‘minders’ they may have.”
“Dear?” Spike mimicked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Giles, is there something you’ve forgotten to mention?” Willow added innocently.
“You there, Wes?” Gunn asked, waving his hand in front of a rather glazed former watcher.
Lorne just smiled and winked at Willow, following it up with a whispered, “Told you it wouldn’t be too long.”
Giles looked embarrassed and uncomfortable, while Cordelia smiled happily, and then placed her hand gently on the older man’s thigh. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she urged, “we can tell them.”
Cordelia flashed a dazzling smile at everyone and plunged ahead without waiting for Giles’ assent. “We’ve been dating for a couple of weeks now. He’s wonderful.” She looked at Wesley, and smiled again before she continued. “I’m sorry Wes, I just didn’t realise then that it was Giles I wanted. The whole age issue y’know. So I went for you. A young Giles. I am sorry, can you forgive me for doing that, all those years ago?”
“Of course, Cordy. Not that there’s anything to forgive.” Wesley answered, smiling and happy for his friend.
Spike smiled openly and asked, teasingly and rhetorically, “What is it with all these Sunnydale bints? They’re all into older men.”
Willow looked at Spike levelly. “Yeah, guess we are. I mean, you’re so old that you can’t even remember which damn century we’re in.” Then she poked her tongue out at her lover.
Spike chuckled and looked at Giles. “You’re okay Rupes? You’re sitting there looking pretty stunned.”
“Er …” Giles removed his glasses and rubbed his forehead, deep in thought. “Yes, I think so. I think I was just expecting a lot more negativity about this. The fact everyone’s joking about it is … surprising.”
Spike smiled back. “Well, Rupes, think of it like this. I’m the big bad, and yet I’m totally captivated by this little vixen … Chubs and a former demon … neither are conventional, and there’s a fairly significant age difference in both cases. Why would we be upset?”
Giles just blinked helplessly. Lorne got up and smiled dazzlingly. “Congratulations, Giles. Just be sure that the Ripper doesn’t hurt her.”
“Who’s the Ripper?” Gunn asked, concern playing across his features.
“Giles is,” Anya answered easily. “When he was younger he was a very bad man.” Her comment consciously mocked Spike’s catchphrase, and she winked at the blond vampire.
Cordelia laughed. “I dunno, I heard about the time Ripper came out to play. I think it might be fun.”
Giles just gaped at her.
Wesley cleared his throat, both breaking up the interplay and gaining everyone’s attention. “As touching as all this is, I think we should at least draw up some preliminary plans to help both Buffy and Dawn.”
Giles nodded, both relieved and obscurely disappointed at getting back to the reason for the urgent meeting. “Yes, I suppose we should,” the watcher said. “The main problem that I have is how to get Spike to London. There’s no way he could avoid direct sunlight.”
Wesley looked up at Giles‘ comment. “I can think of two options. Firstly, a private jet. Alternatively, Spike could always travel as cargo. I was thinking of Rupert’s and my dear departed father.”
“I’ll bloody well hire a jet rather than get stuck in a bleedin’ coffin for hours. And, Wes, if you want me to be your father … sod off, I wouldn’t turn you if you paid me.”
Wesley managed to look both relieved and offended at the same time, while Gunn chuckled quietly.
“So, what do we do when we get there?” Cordy asked.
“I’m unsure.” Giles admitted. “But Wesley and I will try and create a map, as accurately as we can remember. I’m thinking that we’ll need to create a lot of distractions, and try to get one or two people in to talk to Dawn and Buffy. Hopefully they’ll be able to convince them to … return with us.”
“Does everyone have passports?” Willow asked. “I know Spike and I do, and obviously Giles and Wesley do.”
“Well, I don’t. And I can’t really see me being issued one, somehow.” Lorne said, smiling.
“Er … I don’t have one either.” Gunn remarked sadly. “And given my record, even if I did, I wouldn’t get into another country anyhow.”
“Anya and I do. We got them before we decided on Hawaii for the honeymoon.” Xander said.
”I still have mine,” Cordelia added happily. “It’ll be nice to use it again.”
“So, everyone who can go will,” Giles said in a voice that brooked no argument. “Spike, can you arrange for that jet?”
”Yeah. I’ll hire a cargo jet. They do have seats. And no windows.”
”But … but how will we see out?” Anya asked.
“We won’t, you daft bint. That’s more or less the bloody point.”