Falling Into You
By Spike SpeigelWalking The Fine Line
“Oi, Giles. You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Giles stood rather haphazardly in the doorway of the office building, his hand planted against the doorframe. Spike didn’t expect this. Not in the least. Well, he expected Giles being a bit queasy for the meeting, but he didn’t expect the all-powerful Council to be housed in a twenty plus story building. Kind of felt like they were lawyers, each floor denoting a different specialty. Got a vengeance demon disrupting your life? Twelfth floor. Having trouble with the translation of a possible world ending prophecy? The translators are on the seventh floor. Giles stirred from the corner of Spike’s eye, straightening his suit jacket as well as himself.
“I’m fine.” Spike lifted an eyebrow at the Watcher, noticing that he was beginning to lean toward the door once again. “Just need for the building to stop swaying.” Spike tried his best not to laugh, but a small chuckle escaped from his lips.
“Right, then.” Spike adjusted his the collar on his shirt. While this was strictly a business meeting, he couldn’t bring himself to get all gussied up like Giles did on a daily basis. So, he made a compromise. He left his duster, jeans and boots back at the flat. In their stead was a pair of slacks, loafers and the blue-collar button up that Giles loaned him. Got to say, it felt okay, but then again, he didn’t feel all that comfortable in the duster anymore. Not since that night in the cemetery. Spike moved toward Giles, his hand fiddling with the edges of the collar. He knew that Buffy told him to show them that he was the one in control, but they were the ones with answers. What could he possibly have to prove the contrary? “So, any final pointers before we enter the depths of Hell?” Giles eyed him, noting the smirk on his face. Spike was enjoying Giles’ inebriated state a bit too much for his taste. But, to tell the truth, he’d probably be doing the same right about now were the tables reversed.
“Careful. I do still work here.” Spike threw up his hands playfully, as though a local gang member was holding him up. Giles shook his head, realizing that Spike was having too much fun watching him trying to maintain his balance. “There will be numerous members in attendance today, but make sure you address the one talking directly to you. Other than that, and you should be fine.” Spike nodded, his hands falling into his pockets.
“Alright then. Let’s go get some!” Giles smirked at the off kilter comment. While most normal people that knew about the Council would be shuddering in their knickers, Spike was anxious to go face the unknown. Most likely because he had a great deal riding on the upcoming events. But still, the fact that Spike didn’t show any trepidation made Giles admire him that much more. It had only been a few weeks since they had became reluctant flat mates, but in that time, Giles realized that there was a man underneath the supernatural. Maybe even before Spike died saving the world from Willow’s damnation. But, there it was. And, there was no denying it now. Giles was beginning to find his respect for the lad growing each day. Giles tilted his head toward the door, Spike nodding in understanding. As Spike moved past Giles, he paused momentarily, not looking back at the Watcher.
“Rupert?”
“What is it, Spike?” Giles expected Spike to say something grandiose or hard nosed at the moment, but the reality of Spike’s words surprised him, to say the least.
“No matter what happens today, I just wanted to say thanks.” Before Giles could respond, Spike moved past the glass double doors and into the lobby of the building. Giles looked on at the enigma that was once a master vampire, a look of understanding mixed with confusion on his face. Another moment passed before Giles followed Spike into the building.
While the weather outside was sweltering, she could remember her hot skin being soothed by his cool, taut skin, his touch igniting her insides. The crypt didn’t have central air, but then again, they never needed it. Not when all that mattered was the moment. The moment in between the awkward initiation and the inevitable climax. Buffy’s hands moved down her sides, gripping the sheet tightly as her subconscious took her back to a time when things were simpler. When all that mattered was the moment. When all that mattered was his touch. His voice. His look. Him.
She felt her body almost molding against his, as though she was trying to get closer to him physically even though it was impossible. Any closer and they’d be sharing the same internal organs. They were already sharing external ones as it was. She focused on the sounds they made that night, as the heat raged against the storm outside the crypt, the illuminations of light inside being produced by random streaks of lightning.
While she couldn’t see him, barring moments of white light from the lightning, she could feel him. In her and all around her at the same time. They never needed words. At the beginning they did, as though it was some sort of twisted game of Marco Polo, trying to figure out what exactly the other wanted. What the other needed. But, at that moment in time, each knew what the other wanted. What the other needed. So, words weren’t. Not now.
At first, she regarded her nudity as shameful when she was with him. Now, she relished it. He worshipped her body, flaws and all, just as she did his. Her mind flitted back to another moment in time when he asked her to take off her clothes. She had thought it was for sex. But, it was far from it. Instead, he sat there, looking at her, as though he was looking at the heavens. It made her uncomfortable at first. But, when she saw the look of awe and serenity on his face, she knew then. She knew that he really loved her. But she didn’t love him during that moment. It took a much dire moment in time for her to realize that.
Her mind quickly moved back to the crypt, wanting to avoid the painful moments and just focus on the better ones. His arms were wrapped under hers, one hand against the small of her back, the other in her hair, as hers were against his back, her nails digging, scraping across his taut, muscular flesh, their lips entwined, their moans drowned out by the sounds of the storm outside.
Buffy couldn’t help but lose herself in him. No one had ever made her feel this way before. And it wasn’t just the sex. He was still there. Even after all her insults and barbs, he remained. Even when she assaulted him physically, he remained. At first, Buffy thought that he was just a fool that loved pain. That loved misery. But she knew better now as she felt him all around her, her body aching for his touch. He didn’t leave her because he loved her. Even in her darkest hour, he still loved her. He remained. While the others ran. While the others offered ultimatums. Spike remained. Because he loved her.
Before her thoughts could move back to their moment of passion during that warm autumn night, a voice stirred her from her thoughts.
“He doesn’t belong here.” Buffy turned her head to the source of the voice, looking over her shoulder as Spike continued his ministrations. Her eyes fell on the shadows of the crypt against the wall. There was someone there. And the voice sounded familiar. “Repercussions will be felt by his being here.” Lightning flashed once again, but the shadows concealed the being in the crypt. As Buffy turned back toward Spike, she realized that he was gone.
“Spike?”
“The balance is off.” Buffy turned back to the figure, her clothes magically appearing on her body. It was a dream, after all. Why should this bother her?
“Balance? What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“A friend.”
“Yeah? My friends tend to talk to me face to face. And they don’t act like peeking toms when I’m having sex with my boyfriend.” The figure chuckled.
“Don’t blame me. This is your mind. Guess you forgot what I look like.”
“What?”
“It’s not important. What is important is that he’s coming.” Buffy began to walk toward the shadow clad figure, but the more she walked, the more it felt like she was moving backward.
“I don’t understand.”
“What can I tell you, kid? You only understand the big moments when you actually see them.” The words sounded so familiar to her.
“Who doesn’t belong here? Who’s coming?”
“I can’t tell you. There are rules.”
“Rules for dreams? You’re kidding, right?” Another chuckle from the figure.
“It’s all part of the game.”
“Now we’re playing a game?”
“A very serious one. One you shouldn’t have gotten yourself involved in.” Buffy sighed, her dream beginning to vex her.
“Okay. I’m getting tired of the whole cryptic routine. Unless you have something meaningful to say to me, I’m going to get back to my boyfriend.”
“There’s that word again.” Buffy looked into the shadows, a frown on her face.
“What word?”
“Boyfriend. Thought Angel was the love of your life?” It was true. Angel was the love of her life. But that was a different life. She was still only a child when she fell in love with Angel. He was her first. He would always have a piece of her heart. But she was a different person now. She was an adult now. And her relationship with Spike was the first adult one. Maybe that’s why she pushed him away. Because she didn’t want to be an adult. She didn’t want this to be real. She didn’t want to accept the fact that Spike made her happy. That Spike was the one person that would accept her, good or bad. “And now you’ve traded in your brunette for the blonde.” Buffy looked at the shadows, a look of disgust on her face.
“I’m going now. Feel free to disappear back into the… Oh, wait. You’re already in the shadows.”
“Nice one, kid.” The accent was definitely familiar. “Fine, I’ll go. But just remember, he’s coming.” Buffy spoke, a hint of sarcasm tinting her words.
“Guess it won’t make a difference if I ask nicely to tell me who?”
“Sorry. Rules are rules.”
“Yeah, right.” The anger was now evident in Buffy’s voice. What right did her mind have to do this to her? Right when she was getting to the good part with Spike.
“I can tell you this. What you had to go through with Angel? Sending him to Hell?” This got Buffy’s attention, her body spinning back around to face him.
“Yeah?”
“That was nothing compared to what’s gonna happen next.” Buffy sighed. It was only a dream. Only a dream. Right?
“Why don’t you tell me what’s gonna happen, so I can prepare myself for it.” No hint of humor was evident this time from the figure. Only seriousness.
“Even if I could, kid. It still wouldn’t change a thing. Balance needs to be restored.” Before Buffy could respond, a loud, shrill tone echoed throughout the crypt, the sounds of the storm outside being drowned out. Buffy’s hands went to her ears as her eyes flew open. As she began to focus, she realized that she was awake and the shrill sound was being emitted from her alarm clock. Time to get up and go to work. Buffy sighed as her hand came down on the snooze button.
“Just a dream.” But she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was anything but.
Spike felt like he was in one of those fantasy epics as he walked through the halls of the Watcher’s Council. On the outside, the building looked like every other office building in the surrounding area. There were even some that towered over it. However, it was probably a safe assumption to say that the interiors were vastly different. If not, then every other building would have various demons walking amongst humans. Giles noticed Spike’s bewilderment as they neared the inner sanctum of the building.
“You get used to it after a while.” Spike turned his gaze from a Snorphlex demon, male by the way it was acting. Spike had to smirk at the scene. The demon was hitting on one of the secretaries. One of the human secretaries. His gaze fell onto Giles, the smile fading.
“Doesn’t really bother me.”
“Then what is it that has you, mouth agape?” Spike was about to dispel the Watcher’s comment, but realized that his mouth was indeed open. So, he was a little bit in awe at the scene in front of him. But, then again, this wasn’t an everyday occurrence. Well, maybe to Giles. But other than that. Spike sighed, his mouth slowly closing before he decided to answer Giles’ question.
“Watchers cavorting with demons?” Before Giles could respond, Spike continued his appraisal of the situation. “What ever is the world coming to?” Giles noted the smirk on Spike’s face as they continued down the hallway that felt like it would never end. If Spike didn’t know better, he could have sworn that they’d been walking for at least an hour.
“Well, I’ve been cavorting with you about half a month. You should have realized that this was commonplace.” Spike’s eyebrows lifted slightly upon hearing the sarcasm seeping in every word that came out of Giles’ mouth.
“Right. And let’s try and classify what type of demon you’ve been sharing your flat with, shall we?” As Spike was about to speak, he felt something brush against his shoulder. Before Spike could turn around to see who, or what, had done this; he felt a hand cup his rear, squeezing rather tightly. “Oi!” Spike turned around to see a woman, almost in her fifties, looking up at him with a mischievous grin on her face. And her hand was still affixed to his person. “Hey, leggo, you crazy…”
“Spike!” Spike’s tirade came to an abrupt end as Giles began to move in between his person and the elderly woman. “Hello, Ms. Katsevich. Um, shouldn’t you be in Receiving right about now?”
“What? But it’s teatime. Just wanted to have me a snack.” Her eyes flew back to Spike as she ended her explanation. Spike didn’t know whether he should feel flattered that someone of the opposite sex was showing such interest in him or feel concerned that the woman could be someone’s grandmother. Before Spike could choose which, Giles spoke.
“That’s very well and good, Ms. Katsevich. But this young man is the one I’ve been telling you about.” Spike was surprised to see the woman’s look go from one of attraction to one of pity in a matter of seconds.
“You poor bastard. I’ll leave ye be then.” As Spike was going to respond, the elderly woman moved past him, walking into what looked like a concession area.
“What the hell was all that about, then?” Spike’s disposition went from curiosity to perturbation when he heard Giles chuckle.
“You’re welcome.”
“For what?”
“For saving your very life.” Spike shook his head, not following the train of thought that Giles was obviously following. At that moment, Spike was pretty sure Giles’ train derailed somewhere between insane and senile.
“Yeah, I was really terrified of…”
“The Meshnik demon.” The anger subsided once he realized what Giles was trying to tell him.
“Houl on. Meshnik?” Giles nodded, a small smile on his face as he did so. “That ol’ nanny?”
“That’s right.”
“Bloody hell!” Giles gently patted Spike on the shoulder as Spike tried to gather his thoughts. “Tea time. The cheek squeeze. She was looking for a sodding meal, wasn’t she?”
“Afraid so. Ms. Katsevich sees anyone she doesn’t recognize as an employee as food.” Spike nodded before his thoughts finally caught up to him.
“So, she works in Receiving? What exactly happens there?” Giles took a small breath before he spoke.
“That’s where we receive whatever specimens that prove to be too unruly for the world to deal with.” Spike nodded, somewhat understanding what Giles was trying to imply.
“So, basically, it’s a big ol’ buffet for Miss Muffet?”
“You could say that.”
“Cor. A Meshnik demon.”
“We have seven on staff.”
“Seven?” Spike couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His memory may be wonky, but he remembered reading about the Meshnik species. While they could take and wear the skins of any other species, that’s not what they were renowned for. The whole mouth morph thing was pretty bizarre. Basically, they had the ability to reshape their mouths and teeth to any form. Whatever proved to be the best for devouring their prey in a quick two to three bites. “What the hell did you promise them so they’d behave? From what I remember, those blokes have a rather insatiable appetite.” Giles answered matter of factly.
“All they could eat.” Spike smirked at the Watcher as they continued walking down the hall.
“Knew you had a wry wit about you. Too bad Buffy and the rest of them all think you’re an old stick in the mud.” Giles feigned insult as Spike chuckled softly.
“Oh, what ever shall I do to remedy this situation?” Spike’s chuckle increased in volume upon hearing Giles’ response. “Seriously, though. I have to maintain a certain demeanor when I’m around them.” Giles didn’t expect the question from Spike.
“Why?”
“Because while they are young adults now, they will always be children in my eyes, I suppose. Plus, a Watcher gallivanting with his Slayer is rather taboo.”
“Had no idea you thought of her like that, Rupert?” The insinuating tone in Spike’s voice caught his attention.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m just messin’ around.”
“Right.” Giles figured it wouldn’t hurt, throwing in his two cents on the current situation between the man next to him and his former charge. “Besides, she’s already taken with you.” Spike couldn’t believe the words just spoken to him. From the one man that would never speak those words in the first place.
“Look, before you start berating me about what Buffy and I had…” Giles raised his hand, waving Spike’s words to the wayside.
“I’m not.” Giles stopped walking once again, this time moving to a side window where he looked out at the world below. “It’s just, somewhere in between you trying to kill her and you stopping Willow, she developed certain feelings for you.” Spike, seeing what Giles was trying to do, decided to opt out of the conversation before things got more awkward.
“I know that there was something between me and Buffy, but with my memory…”
“Yes, yes. I know. I understand and sympathize with you.”
“Don’t need your sympathy, Rupert. All I need are answers.” Giles turned to face him, his shoulder resting against the glass of the spacious window. “Once I get those, I should be able to figure out where to go from here.”
“I guess you’re right.” At that point, Giles genuinely smiled at the once former vampire.
“What? I say something amusing?”
“No. It’s just, I find myself agreeing with you more often ever since you’ve…” Giles tried to remain tasteful without bringing up terrible memories of the past. “How should I put this?”
“Risen from the grave?” Giles frowned at the choice of words.
“How utterly Biblical of you, Spike.” Spike grinned at the Watcher as he spoke.
“Hey. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“That you are, yes.”
“Then I’m not lying.” Giles sighed as he turned his body away from the window, now facing Spike.
“It’s just, Buffy’s been through a lot ever since Joyce died. Even before that, her life was extremely difficult. But now, with everything’s that’s transpired in the past few months, I’m afraid that…” Spike finished the thought for him.
“You’re afraid that me being back will bring her more pain and heartache. Right?” Giles nodded; somewhat amazed that Spike could read him so accurately. Maybe what they said about vampires was correct, that they could read minds. “Well, no worries there, mate. Not even sure I’m going back to the states once this is over.”
“What…what did you say?” Spike spoke, a hint of shame in his voice.
“Not sure if I want to go back.” To say the news surprised Giles would be an understatement.
“Why would you even fathom such an idea? After everything you two have been through?”
“And, what was that exactly? Me trying to kill her and her little Scoobies any chance I got? Her telling me that she hated me on countless occasions? Or is it the fact that we had a relationship that was based solely on sex for well about a year?” Spike sighed, a hint of frustration in his voice. “You keep on telling me that she felt something for me, but I don’t remember that. All I remember is what Doc showed me in that damn orb.” Giles wanted to intervene, but the fact that Spike was making very good points stopped him. To tell the truth, if Giles were in Spike’s place, he’d probably be going through the same thought processes right about now.
“And what if you get your memories back that say other than the contrary?” Spike looked up at the Watcher, seeing that he was actually concerned for Spike’s well being.
“Then I guess I’ll know whether I go back or not.”
“You hate her that much?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just…” Spike looked down, as though he could gather his thoughts better if he didn’t have to look at Giles. “It’s just that I don’t know what I feel. I mean, I like being around her and all.” That much was evident during their last night together, walking the streets of Sunnydale, without a care in the world. “But when I think there’s something there, my mind keeps on shouting out that this is wrong. That she hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate you.”
“And I have your word to go on that, eh?” Spike shook his head, a look of seriousness now enveloping his features. “Sorry, mate. But what if this is all just another elaborate play to put yours truly in the ground?”
“Spike…” Giles knew that he wouldn’t get anywhere with the man standing in front of him. Not now. Not like this. So, he conceded, allowing Spike to deal with his memories for the time being. Giles, now more than ever, hoped that the Council elders would have the answers Spike was looking for. If so, then maybe things could finally get better for Buffy as well as Spike. Giles momentarily smiled at the thought. He, wishing good will toward Spike. How things had changed.
“What?” Giles shook his head, as though he was shaking off a dream. He had to be. After all, here he was, in London, with Spike. And they were acting amiably.
“Nothing.” After a moment of silence, Giles nodded at Spike. “We should get going. Wouldn’t want to keep the elders waiting.”
“Wouldn’t, at that.” With a silent understanding between them, both men began to walk once again. However, this time instead of an elderly woman that could devour them in a matter of seconds, there stood a normal looking man dressed rather formally.
“Mr. Giles. The elders are waiting for you.” Giles looked down at his watch. Five sixteen. Giles knew that Spike had to wake him for the meeting, but Giles had no idea he had slept in that late. Giles sighed, as though disgusted by himself, before he spoke.
“Terribly sorry. We’re on our way.”
“Very well, then.” Spike extended his hand to the individual. Might as well be friendly while in unfamiliar territory.
“Cheers, mate. Name’s Spike.” The individual looked at him, a hint of fear in his eyes as he stepped back, nodding at him.
“I know who you are, William. Or do you go by the Bloody?” Spike grinned at the chap.
“Spike’ll do.”
“Very well, then. You should hurry. The elders do not like to be kept waiting.” And with that, the young man walked away. Rather quickly, Spike noticed.
“What was that all about?” Giles had noticed the young man’s behavior as well. It seemed rather peculiar, to say the least.
“We’ll worry about that later. For now, we need to get to the inner chamber. The elders don’t like to be kept waiting.” Spike nodded, feeling a little unsettled by the young man’s eyes. It had been a long time since he’d seen fear like that. So long ago, he couldn’t place the moment. But the feeling was vivid. It was one Spike knew very well. Shaking the thought away, Spike turned to Giles, nodding.
“Right, then. Let’s get this over with.” With that, the two men continued down the hall to face the Council elders.
Buffy was pulling on her suit jacket when she saw Dawn and Tara in the kitchen, sitting at the island having breakfast. She smiled at the two women as she snuck her hand between them, grabbing a glass of orange juice.
“Hey, that’s mine, butt.” Dawn’s voice was playful as she scolded her older sister.
“Sorry, Dawnie. Running late.”
“So I see, sleepyhead.” Buffy looked at Dawn until she realized that her sister’s eyes were looking at her head. More precisely, the top of her head. Buffy swiveled her gaze to the window, seeing her reflection. In her haste to get dressed, she had forgotten about her hair.
“Oh, my God.” Buffy gave the glass back to Dawn as she made her way to the living room mirror, pulling a brush from her purse. Tara spoke from the kitchen as Buffy tended to her hair.
“Hey, Buffy. Uh, we need to talk.”
“What are we doing now?” Her hair looked presentable, but one strand decided not to follow the rest today, falling in front of her face. Buffy swiped at it a few more times until it finally stayed with the rest.
“We’re talking. But, we need to talk about something. Something important.”
“What is it, Tara?” Buffy finally made her way back into the kitchen, Dawn giving her a thumbs up, indicating that her older sister was ready to tackle the never ending lines of bank patrons. Buffy moved back to the island, this time snagging a piece of toast. Dawn looked at her sister as she took a bite out of the dry piece. How utterly revolting. Dry toast was a crime as far as she was concerned. Tara looked at Buffy, unsure of how to actually begin the conversation. So, she decided to start with the obvious.
“Willow can come home today.” Buffy looked at Tara as she continued chewing on her dry toast. Dawn sipped her orange juice, looking at the conversation unfolding in front of her. Tara had already told her that Willow was given the okay to check out of the hospital. The only problem was, she didn’t have a place to go to.
Her parents had moved to Los Angeles after the doctors told them that there was no chance of their daughter ever recovering. So, they had left the city, with a do not resuscitate order placed on their daughter. They couldn’t bring themselves to pull the plug, so they decided to let nature take its course. While the gang had at first thought it callous of them to run away from their only daughter, they began to understand what they were going through when they came to visit Willow during her coma. Being reminded of her condition every day could be a lot to deal with. Her parents still loved her, but they couldn’t deal with the grief. So, they moved to Los Angeles. Far enough to leave the pain behind but close enough to come back if anything were to happen to their beloved daughter. After a moment of silence, Buffy spoke.
“That’s good news, right?” Tara answered, a slight smile on her face.
“Of…of course.”
“Well, when is she checking out?” Dawn chimed in.
“At noon.” Buffy turned to her sister, realizing that both women had already talked about Willow’s release. But, they were acting somewhat strange around her. As though they were anxious.
“Well, tell Will I’m sorry that I can’t be there, but I’ll be here tonight. We’ll go out. Call Xander and Anya. We’ll make a night of it.” Tara smiled at Buffy’s tone as she continued. “I guess we can clear out the storage room for Willow when she gets here.”
“Wha…what?” Tara initially thought that Buffy would be uncomfortable with the idea of Willow moving back into the house. But she was treating it as though it was just another everyday occurrence. “I mean, that’s good to hear. But you don’t have to go to all that trouble.” Buffy looked at Tara, unsure of what she meant. Then she saw the look in her eyes. That’s all she needed to know.
“Oh. Oh! I mean, yeah. Of course I should have known. You and Will can use mom’s room like you did before. But…” Tara looked up at Buffy as she finished her piece of toast.
“What is it, Buffy?”
“Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast? After all, she’s trying to recover from what’s happened.” Tara gently smiled at her friend, Dawn moving from the island to gather her books into her backpack.
“I know. But I think it’ll be easier for her if we let her know how much we missed her.” Tara meant to say how much she missed her. But, based on the looks she was getting from the Summers’ women, she didn’t have to say it. Buffy moved over to Dawn, helping her with her backpack as she spoke.
“That’s fine, honey. I think it’s a good idea. See you tonight, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And, remember to call Xander and Anya. This is going to be a great day, I can feel it.” Dawn looked at her sister, a look of concern in her eyes.
“You okay, Buffy?”
“Yeah, Dawnie. Why?”
“Because you actually sound happy.” Buffy tugged at Dawn’s arm, moving her toward the living room.
“What? I’m always happy.”
“Yeah, and I’m the queen of Sheba.” Tara couldn’t help but chuckle as she watched the two siblings make their way out of the house. Things were definitely looking up.
Xander awoke to find an arm slung across his face. He tried to recollect the events of the past night, but all he could remember was feeling flushed and sweaty. And exhausted. Very exhausted. Xander gently moved the arm from across his face, smiling when he saw his bride to be on the other end. At first he thought it was some wonderful dream. But it wasn’t. It was better. Because it was real. It was his life.
“An, time to get up.” He gently nudged Anya’s side with him elbow, her body wrapped around his. “We have to get to work, honey.” Anya mumbled something incoherent before she moved closer to Xander, burying her face into his side. The sensation against his side caused him to chuckle softly. Even when she slept, she knew where he was ticklish. He pulled her closer to him, dropping a light kiss on the top of her head. “Rise and shine, Anya. Time to make money.”
“M…money?” That got her attention.
“That’s right, hon. Time to go to work.” The response he got was one he wasn’t expecting.
“Let’s just stay home today. I’m too happy to leave right now.”
“But, what about the shop? You’ll be losing a day’s profit.” She looked up at him, a small smile playing on her lips.
“There’s always the holidays to gouge the customers.” Xander looked down, giving her a bemused look. “Fine, fine. No gouging. Happy?”
“Happy.” Xander began to get up from the bed, but Anya gently pushed her back down. “Hey, gotta get to work. Remember?” Anya slid over him so he was directly under him now. Xander could have pushed her off with ease, but decided he liked the position he was in at the moment.
“I don’t know. You look kinda sick. Let me feel.” Before Xander could respond, he could feel Anya’s hand sliding under the sheets. Then he let out a small gasp. “See, you definitely feel hot.”
“Aaannnnnnn.” His tone said no but his eyes said yes.
“Hmm, definitely too ill to work today.” She lowered her head to his forehead, gently trailing kisses down his forehead, across his cheek, until she came to his lips. Xander instinctively wrapped his arms around his fiancée, pulling her closer to him as their kiss deepened. That’s when the phone rang. Xander groaned upon hearing the sound. His arm closest to the phone moved away from Anya’s body, grabbing the air for the phone on the nightstand. Anya mumbled between kisses.
“Don’t…don’t answer…”
“Have…to. Might be…work.” Anya deepened the kiss, hoping to distract him long enough so the phone would go silent. No such luck because Xander’s hand finally found the phone. He gently pulled away, bringing the receiver to his mouth. “Hu…hello.”
“Uh. Hi, Xander. Is…is this a bad time?” Tara could have sworn that she heard groaning on the other end of the phone.
“Um, no. Not bad.” Anya continued kissing his neck, moving to his earlobe, gently nibbling. “Wh…what’s up, Tara?”
“Willow’s coming home today.” Xander smiled at the news his friend had just told him. That, and the fact that Anya’s touch was making him quiver. “Buffy thought it’d be a good idea if we all go out tonight. Like old times.” Somehow, Xander got his voice to work.
“Yeah, that sounds great. What time should we be over tonight?”
“Um, how’s six?”
“Six is doable.” Anya slipped under the covers, Xander audibly sighing at what she was doing under the sheets. Tara didn’t want to giggle, but she now knew what was happening on the other side of the line. “See you…tonight.”
“Bye, Xander. And tell Anya I said hi.” Xander answered in a grunt before dropping the phone to the side of the bed. He couldn’t remember if he clicked off the signal, but at that moment, not much mattered.
“Uh, Tara says hi.” Anya mumbled something, Xander pressing the back of his head against the pillow. Suddenly, being ill seemed like a really good idea.
Spike walked into the inner chamber. He wondered why they kept calling it that. He got his answer as soon as he surveyed his surroundings. While the rest of the building looked modern with fax machines, desktop computers, and coffeemakers, this room was different. Well, maybe different wasn’t the right word. How about very out of place.
The room looked as though it came out of medieval times, the walls constructed out of gray stone slabs, the floor in the same manner. The room was illuminated in torchlight, while at the head of the room there were located rows of seats set up in tier formation. Looked like there was going to be an audience, after all. Before Spike could contemplate his surroundings, a side door opened, this one made of what looked like hardened steel. Spike heard the chains grinding against a pulley as the door, no, more of a gate, slid up and out of view. Then came what Spike could only guess was the elders.
They separated into three rows, each row filling each vacant slot of chairs. And situated in the center of the group was Quentin Travers.
“Hello, William.”
“Spike.” Quentin nodded, as he continued.
“Very well. Spike. We’ve been waiting for you. Almost thought Giles forgot about the meeting today.” He turned to Giles, who stood at Spike’s side, almost as though he was Spike’s advocate. Well, it felt that way to Spike as the numerous eyes fixated on his person.
“Just lost track of time, Quentin. That’s all.”
“See that it doesn’t happen again.” Giles nodded, Spike somewhat surprised at the Watcher’s behavior. As far as he could remember, Quentin wasn’t that important in the first place. Things must have changed since he last ran into the Council. “So, Spike. We hear that you think we can help you with your recent memory loss. Is that right?”
“That’s right.” Another member spoke, this a middle aged woman with glasses.
“And what makes you think we can help you?” Spike looked around until he saw where the voice came from.
“Man named Doc.” At the sound of the name, the elders spoke in hushed whispers. Apparently, the name meant something to them. After a moment, the group quieted down, Quentin speaking once again.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
“Enough. That you blokes are responsible for bringing me back. What I wanna know is, why?” An elderly Indian man answered.
“We are the ones asking the questions, Mr. Spike.”
“Spike. No mister.” The Indian man smiled at him even though he didn’t mean it.
“You will answer our questions. We are not here to answer your questions. Is that clear?” Spike nodded, anger sparkling in his eyes. After two weeks and he was still getting the runaround.
“Crystal.” Before Quentin could respond, Spike turned around, making his way for the doors.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Anywhere that’s not here, that’s for bloody well certain.” Giles walked quickly over to Spike’s side, trying to talk reason to him.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like? I’m leaving. These wankers aren’t gonna tell me anything.”
“Give them a chance. They’re just testing you.” Spike stopped walking and turned to Giles.
“Rupert, I’m tired of these games. First Doc, now them. Uh uh. I’m done.” Spike turned away, beginning to walk again. However, this time, a rather big individual emerged from the shadows, standing in front of the doorway. “Out of the way tons o’ fun.”
“Spike, be careful.” Spike looked back, seeing the hint of worry in Giles’ eyes. Then the smell hit him. Something familiar. That’s when it clicked.
“Bloody hell. You a Meshnik?” The big man smiled, his grin growing, as well as his teeth, as he did so. “Why can’t things ever be simple?” Before Spike could ponder the question, the demon lunged at Spike, mouth agape, and wide enough to tear Spike’s top half clean off. However, Spike was ready. Instead of backing up, allowing the monster time to open it’s jaws, he moved toward the demon, his hands flying from his sides to either jaw, holding them steady. Then he sunk his fingers into the demon’s flesh, the monster screaming in pain. “Sorry, mate. But I’ve grown attached to my head.”
In a quick motion, Spike pulled the Meshnik’s jaws close, sliding his hands out quickly as he did so. The demon’s teeth shattered upon impact, bits of enamel falling to the ground. Spike couldn’t help but make the comparison to one of those cartoon cats that had their teeth dangling from their jaw after the mouse hit him square in the kisser with a golf club. But, in this case, the cat was a very pissed off Meshnik, whose mouth began to grow again. If he couldn’t gnaw on Spike, he’d do the next best thing. Swallow him whole. Spike, not to keen on that idea, moved swiftly, planting his fist into the demon’s abdomen. The demon doubled over in pain, a yellowish substance, most likely blood, flowing from his lips. Without waiting, Spike grabbed the demon by his shirt collar and flung him over his shoulder toward the direction of the elders.
Before the elders could react, the monster came crashing down to the floor, the momentum of Spike’s throw carrying him against the rough floor. In a matter of seconds, inertia and friction did their jobs, the Meshnik stopping his trajectory toward the seats. The elders looked at Spike as he stood there, a huge smirk on his face.
“Anyone else want some?” Spike noticed that the elders were whispering amongst themselves, he catching bits of their conversation.
“My God.”
“Doc was right.”
“…What is he?”
“…male Slayer?” The last tidbit got Spike’s attention. He moved towards Giles, whispering to him as the elders continued their commotion.
“Oi, Rupert.” Giles looked back at the destruction Spike had caused before he turned back to Spike.
“Yes?”
“Is there such a thing as a male Slayer?” Giles looked at him, a bit surprised. Buffy had brought up that same topic back in the hospital room when they had survived their ordeal with Doc. She had asked him if it was possible if Spike was a male Slayer. After all, Anya had heard about them, and she pretty much knew about every type of demon and myth that was out there. Giles had answered honestly. He had never heard of such a thing. But, then again, there were certain texts that were off limits to Watchers that weren’t a member of the elders.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because one of those high muckity mucks just mentioned it.”
“How did you…” Before Giles could finish his query, Spike answered, pointing a finger to his ear.
“My ears never lie.”
“Oh. Well, I haven’t heard of there ever being a male Slayer. But, if you heard one of the elders say it, it might be true.” Spike looked at him, nodding.
“Right. Then I know what they’re up to then.” He shot Giles a quick grin before he advanced back to the center of the room. As the hushed whispers continued, the Meshnik lying unconscious at the feet of the stands, Spike spoke. “Oi! Oi! If you chattering nannies could shut your yaps!” The sound of his voice echoed throughout the large room, the stone walls making very good acoustics. The elders turned their attention to the man now standing in front of them. “Good. Now that I’ve got your attention. Let me tell you why you lot brought me here.” He walked closer to them, his pace a slow, casual one. “You think I’m the male Slayer incarnate. Innit right?” The group looked at one another, giving Spike the answer he needed. Quentin’s voice hovered over the whispers.
“Did Giles tell you about that?” Spike turned back, noting that Giles looked surprised at the accusation. Of course Giles didn’t know what was going on. He was as much in the dark as Spike was. Most likely a by-product of being Buffy’s Watcher.
“He didn’t know anything about that. But…” Spike’s finger moved across the sea of people, settling on an elderly British man sitting just above Quentin. “The bloke to your right needs to work on keeping secrets.” The old man couldn’t do anything but look appalled at the accusation, even though he knew that he had let that bit of information slip during the commotion. Quentin looked back at Spike and Giles, thinking of a fitting punishment for the elder that had given their hand away.
“Well, I see your hearing is as good as ever.” Spike nodded, the smirk still on his face. “It’s true. We thought that you might be the beginning of a new male Slayer line.” At that point, Quentin motioned to the side doors, which once again opened. This time, a group of Watchers came into the room, working together to drag the Meshnik demon out of the room. From the other door there emerged a demon that Spike couldn’t identify. Its skin had a green tint, its face a mix between a goat and a preying mantis. Its arms were slightly longer than its legs, its digits curving, almost claw like. And it was coming toward Spike.
“Oi. Houl up, mate. Wouldn’t want to get violent so soon after I laid your friend out.” The demon stopped as soon as Spike spoke, looking back toward Quentin.
“We mean you no harm, William.” Spike noted the name and decided that he really didn’t like this Travers bloke. “Rachid is going to find out what you really are. That’s all.”
“Oh. Is that right?” Spike moved his gaze from Quentin to the demon, noting the slight smile on its lips. Or were those pincers? He couldn’t really see. “Well, no one’s getting any answers until I get some first. Like how does Doc tie back to your Superfriends group?” Quentin could see that Spike was adamant about this point, so he decided to tell him.
“Doc used to be an employee of the Council.” This came as a surprise to both Spike and Giles, Giles voicing his concern.
“Ex…excuse me?”
“That’s right, Rupert. He was in our employ while you were tending to Ms. Summers in America.” Giles felt somewhat betrayed by the news. And the fact that that madman had almost killed both him and Xander just a few weeks ago.
“Doing what, exactly?” Quentin turned his gaze to Spike, leaving Giles to his thoughts.
“He specialized in prophecies, old texts, and the sort. He was very well versed in the art of translation.”
“As well as cutting up little girls on top of high towers.” Quentin nodded at the vampire’s remark.
“We had nothing to do with his helping Glorificus.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. But you didn’t give the Slayer a head’s up neither.” Quentin smiled at the man standing in front of him. He reminded him of another person. Of another Slayer.
“We knew of his presence in Sunnydale, but we didn’t see him as a threat.” Before Spike could wonder how they knew about Doc’s whereabouts, Quentin continued his tirade. “Not until it was too late. Anyway, that’s now a part of history. Shall we focus on the present?”
“I can do that. So, why did Doc spring me from your humble abode?”
“It’s like you surmised, William. He thought you were the male Slayer.” Spike didn’t see what the big deal was all about.
“So? That means what? Another person sticking pointy sticks through vampires?” Quentin, as well as numerous members of the Council elders, chuckled at Spike’s lack of knowledge.
“My boy, it’s not that simple. Male Slayers were much more versed in the arts of slaying than female Slayers.”
“Oooookay. So you have a more efficient vampire duster. Why would Doc go through all that trouble to spring me? After all, he was more in the realm of hell gods. Why all the trouble for a Slayer?”
“It’s somewhat complicated.” Spike was getting vexed by the verbal tennis match right about now.
“So, explain it to me. Feel free to use diagrams if you think it’ll help.” Giles noted that Quentin’s smile began to fade upon hearing Spike’s words. No doubt an evident jab at Quentin’s superiority complex. Giles smiled at the thought as Quentin spoke.
“Male Slayers are so much more than their female counterparts.” Spike waited for the explanation as Giles took his glasses off, rubbing them against his shirt. “Along with physical prowess, male Slayers also display natural instinct when it comes to the dark arts.” This bit of news got Giles’ attention.
“Dark arts?”
“He means black magic. Innit right, Quentin?” If the man wouldn’t call him by the proper name, Spike thought turnabout was fair play.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“So, any other party tricks come with the Slayer package?”
“An awareness of the fourth dimension.” Spike was the one stumped this time.
“Fourth dimension?” Giles came to his aid.
“He means time.” Spike turned to his only friend in the room.
“Thanks, mate.”
“Any time.” Both men smiled at the subtle play on words. Quentin couldn’t help but notice the natural rapport Giles had with the once master vampire. That might prove useful knowledge later on. Spike turned back to Quentin, ignoring the rest of the people in attendance, his attention still focused on the demon standing a few feet away from him.
“Okay, you have a time tripping Slayer that’s handy with magicks and his hands. What’s the big deal?” It wasn’t until he finished his sentence that Spike truly realized how deadly someone like that could be. And why Doc had alluded to the power they would possess if Spike had sided with the madman back in Sunnydale. “Never mind. Think I just answered my own question.” Giles nodded agreement at Spike’s words.
“My God. Someone like that could…” Quentin finished his thought.
“Have the world in the palm of his hand were he to disobey the Council.” Spike noted the looks of fear and hatred pointed in his general direction. “So, you can see why we need to be sure if he is or not.”
“And what if I am?”
“Two choices. One. You work for us in our goal of ridding the world of vampires and all things evil.”
“And two?”
“You leave of your own free will.” Spike chuckled at the tone in Quentin’s voice, as well as his proposal.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that, William.”
“Isn’t that kind of lax of you? Letting a supposed killer like me walk out of here? With all this power no less?” Quentin chuckled at the man’s observation.
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten your past misdeeds, William. It’s just that, we offer two choices, when in reality there is only one choice for you to make.”
“Like I’d ever work for you bunch of wankers. Heard what you do to Slayers that stand by your side. Abandon them in their time of need, yeah?” Quentin turned to Giles, a hint of anger in his voice.
“Have you been telling tall tales again, Rupert?” Giles was getting a bit tired of the accusations at this point.
“Just common knowledge, Quentin.” Before the Watchers could get into a shouting match, Spike intervened.
“Oi. Eyes down front, Quentin.” The two Watchers called a temporary cease-fire. They knew they’d have ample time to discuss the intricacies of Council secrets later. “There now. So, what makes you think I’d sit like a good l’il dog?”
“The Key.” Spike couldn’t make the connection.
“Key? You mean Dawn?”
“That’s right, William.”
“She has nothing to do with us.” Quentin smiled, as though he knew something that would prove vital to Spike’s next decision.
“But, she has everything to do with you, William.” Spike and Giles stood there, waiting for an explanation. “She’s the reason you’re back among the living.” Spike began to laugh at the desperate ploy Quentin was resorting to.
“Right. And there’s a Santa Claus.”
“This is no joke, William.” Spike turned to Giles, hoping to get some reassurance from the Watcher. Instead, all he saw was a look of trepidation on Giles’ face. Quentin wasn’t playing. “From our observations and research, it appears that the Key still has some latent energies. And those energies are responsible for you being here right now.”
“How?”
“We’re unsure about that, but we know that she was responsible for your resurrection. Giles can attest to that much.” Spike turned to Giles, not wanting to believe what he was hearing. That his l’il bit was responsible in his being back.
“Giles?”
“Um, yes. It’s possible.” Giles removed his glasses once again, this time not replacing them. “When you…when you died, something happened.”
“Something?”
“The energy that tore your body apart flowed into Dawn. That same energy somehow healed her wounds after she was dead.” Spike couldn’t believe that no one had told him this before. But, then again, he didn’t remember Dawn dying. Or his own death for that matter.
“I don’t believe this. I…I can’t.”
“It’s all true, William.” Spike looked up at Quentin, noting the smug smile on his face. Bastard thought he had him. That much was certain.
“So, say it’s true. What makes you think I’ll stay here for your whims?” Quentin’s voice almost chilled Spike and Giles to their very core when he spoke.
“Because if you don’t, we’ll have no choice but to resort to experimenting on the lovely Dawn Summers.”
“Rot. You don’t have that kind of power. To get to her in the states where her sister is always looking after her.” Quentin didn’t speak. Instead, he motioned to the back doors. Giles and Spike turned around slowly to see a small video screen drop out from the ceiling slowly. Then, before the two men could query about the screen, it flickered on. And there was Dawn, sitting in class, her chin nestled in her hand, obviously bored by the topic. Then the voice.
“Yes, Mr. Travers? How can we help you today?”
“Can you move on the Key at a moment’s notice?” Spike couldn’t take his eyes off the screen.
“Of course, Mr. Travers. Do you want us to move?”
“No, not yet. Thank you for your help. Continue surveillance of the target.”
“Always, Mr. Travers.” And with that, the screen flickered off. Spike turned around slowly, anger building in him. Giles continued looking at the blank screen, uncomfortable with the deviousness that he was working for.
“So, you see, William. We can obtain the Key anytime we want.” Quentin cleared his throat before he continued on. “During our last meeting with Ms. Summers, we found it a humbling experience, being ordered by our own Slayer. So, we’ve made drastic adjustments for our next encounter. Make no mistake; the Watchers’ Council is completely in control now. No matter what Ms. Summers believes.” Spike looked down, not wanting to look at the man that had his back against the wall.
“What do you want?”
“It’s simple, really. Let Rachid run his tests on you. If you are indeed a male Slayer, you work for us. If not, you’re free to go. Agreed?” Spike looked up at Quentin, anger tinting his every word.
“Alright you son of a bitch. You’ve got yourself a deal.”