Enemy IncognitoBy Wynn
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Revelation
He didn't notice the fighting stop around him. He didn't notice the gunshot from the front of the house, or the tense quiet that descended upon the building, or the stares from the other people in the room. All Angel noticed was the man before him, held against the wall by one hand, calmly staring back at him, blue eyes absent of fear.
"You've got a lot of nerve, Wesley," Angel said, his voice light, contradicting the dark expression upon his face. "You know we're coming here tonight, you know we know you're involved in all of the attacks, yet you still come here. That has to be the second stupidest thing you've ever done, right after kidnapping my son."
"I was-"
"Shut up." He tightened his grip on Wesley's throat, cutting off his reply, as he said, "I don't want to hear anything you have to say. You fucked up when you decided to come after Buffy and Faith. It'll be the last mistake you ever make."
"Let him go, Angel."
"Stay out of this, Faith. This doesn't concern you."
"Um… hello. You just said Wes fucked up when he came after me and B. I think this concerns me a lot." Angel heard her move across the room. She leaned against the wall next to Wesley, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at him, her face impassive, eyes dark and deep with unknown emotions. "Let him go, Angel."
"No."
"Let him go or I'll make you let him go."
Eyes flickering to Faith, Angel said, "Look, Faith, I know you think he's on our side, secretly helping us fight against Lilah and the rest. He's not. He's playing you, trying to gain your confidence by giving you a so-called warning about an ambush he probably planned. He's going to use you to get what he wants and then drop you, if he just doesn't decide to kill you."
Faith shook her head. "You're wrong about this."
"Why would he come to you and give you this information? You tortured him. He hates you."
"No doubt about that. But that doesn't mean he's working with Lilah and Tyler. And if I'm wrong, if Wesley's playing us and really wants us all dead, then you can kill him. Hell, I'll probably help you. But we need to find out for sure, and we can't do that if you crush his windpipe."
A few moments passed and then Angel slowly removed his hand from Wesley's neck. He took a few steps back as Wesley sucked in air and rubbed a hand across his reddened throat.
"You Ok?" Faith asked.
Wincing in pain, Wesley nodded. "Yes. Thank-"
Faith held up her hand. "Don't thank me," she said, moving away from Angel and Wesley and walking towards the front of the house. "Just tell the truth. I'm tired of all the lies."
Angel watched her disappear down the hallway connecting the front and back halves of the house. He turned back to Wesley and found the other man staring at the hall Faith had walked in. Folding his arms across his chest, Angel said, "I don't know what game you're playing, Wes, but stay away from Faith. She doesn't need your lies and manipulations."
A ghost of a smile appeared on Wesley's face as he looked at Angel. "Contrary to your poor opinion of me, Angel, I am not out to 'get' anybody, especially Faith."
"Really? The last time you saw Faith you said she was a rabid animal and a murderer. Now, you're having secret conversations with her and saving her from being killed. You want to tell me what caused this change in attitude?"
"Not really. You just tried to kill me. For the second time, I might add. I don't feel up to sharing anything with you right now." Wesley pushed off the wall and walked around Angel. He moved into the hallway and followed Faith towards the front of the house.
* * *Being the Slayer meant dealing directly with phenomena like fate and destiny every single day. Everything, from the smallest of details in life to the most massive of apocalypses, was planned, prophesized, or predicted by somebody somewhere. There were still times, however, when life shocked the hell out of Buffy Summers. This was about to become one of them.
"You're who?" she asked, confusion pulling her brows together.
"Charles Samuel."
"Samuel," Willow said slowly. "As in the Samuel working with Lilah, Wesley, and Tyler trying to kill us all?"
"Yes."
Nodding softly, Buffy said, "Of course. Massive murderous conspiracies always need people with false identities, so why should this one be any different?" Sighing, she rubbed a hand across her face, stifling the half-maniacal giggle that threatened to burst from her lips. This was making all kinds of sense. The man she had on cassette tape plotting against her and her friends was the man who had just saved her life. Of course the sense it was making was perfectly senseless, but she expected nothing else to occur in her life.
She turned as Spike and Giles entered the room. Spike took a few steps towards her and stopped, glancing at Charles then at the dead man with the curved knife before locking eyes with Buffy. Raising one eyebrow, he said, "Did anyone else notice how all the fighting just stopped? And what the hell is he doing here?"
Buffy shrugged. "I don't know why the fighting stopped. But it probably has something to do with head cheese over here." Off of Spike and Giles' confused looks, she pointed to Charles and said, "Guys, meet Charles Samuel. As in the Samuel we have on cassette tape hiring Tyler to spy on us."
Giles blinked once at Buffy's declaration. He looked at Charles, confusion, anger, and wariness all fighting for dominance on his face. "You were the unknown man on the tape? I didn't recognize your voice."
"I doubt you would have," Charles said as he tucked his gun into his shoulder holster. "It's been twenty years since we last spoke. And back then I spoke with a rougher accent than the one you no doubt heard on this tape of yours." Glancing over Giles' shoulder, he spoke again. "Wesley. Is everything clear back there?"
Buffy spun towards the hallway and she watched Wesley and Faith enter the room, followed by Cordelia and Angel, who carried an unconscious Xander.
"Xander!" Willow ran over to Angel, looking down at Xander as she said, "What happened?"
Cordelia answered her. "He got up close and personal with the wall courtesy of the goon squad that just stopped attacking us. He'll be fine. He'll just have the mother of all headaches when he wakes up."
Drawing in a deep breath, Buffy turned to Wesley. She arched an eyebrow at the redness coloring his throat before she said, "So you've decided to join the party, too. Is Lilah in the back somewhere, ready to burst out and yell surprise, or has she decided to skip the fraternizing with your enemy shindig?"
"Lilah will not be coming here. We've had a… difference of opinion."
"Concerning what exactly?"
Blue eyes examining the destroyed front wall, Wesley said, "Maybe we should continue this discussion at a safer location. I don't know exactly what they have planned, and I'd rather not be here in case they come back."
"What who have planned?" Giles asked.
Wesley looked at Charles, who shook his head and pointed a finger in his direction. Sighing, Wesley ran a hand over his disheveled hair and said, "What Lilah Morgan and Quentin Travers have planned."
* * *She was in pain. Massive amounts of pain. Her fractured wrist throbbed with pain from where she had fallen upon it as she collapsed onto the floor in unconsciousness, and the entire left side of her head buzzed with pain thanks to Tyler and his wicked right hook. Her left eye was swollen shut and congealed blood was caked across her cheek. She was blood-soaked, pain-filled, and pissed off. Someone was going to die.
Cracking open her right eye, Dawn looked at her surroundings, heart beating faster as she realized she was seated in an airplane. A flying airplane. An airplane taking her somewhere other than Sunnydale. Crap. The seat opposite her was occupied, and she groaned as she recognized the pompous air, balding head, and tweed suit of Quentin Travers, the bane of her sister's existence.
"I'm pleased you're awake," Travers said when he noticed her staring at him. "I was afraid Tyler had been too rough with you."
"Bite me." A tight smile appeared on his face at her colorful language, and Dawn cheered at his irritation. The man had a superiority complex so thoroughly developed he thought he was supreme lord of the world, reigning from his stuffed tweed chair in jolly old England, sipping tea and eating crumpets as he directed his Watcher minions around to protect the world from the evils of musty, old books. Straightening in her chair, Dawn pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin in the air. "Buffy will come for me. It doesn't matter where you take me. She'll find me."
His irritation melted away, replaced by a chilling smile that sent shivers of fear down Dawn's spine. "That's the idea, Ms. Summers. That's the idea."
* * *Faith laughed. She couldn't help it. Maybe it was a byproduct of the swollen knot on the back of her head, of the concussion Wesley proclaimed her to have, but she figured her laughter was mostly due to the shocked expressions upon everyone's faces from the revelation that Quentin Travers was the man behind the plan. So the Watcher's Council was trying to kill her again. Figured.
"Something funny, Faith?" Buffy asked, her mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes flashing with frustration and anger.
"Not really, B. But that's what makes it so damn funny." She shook her head as she composed herself, her laughter dying away into an exhausted sigh. "As if our lives aren't dangerous enough being Slayers, constantly fighting demons and other uglies, and now we got to worry about Head Jeeves wanting our heads on a silver platter. He's supposed to help us fight the good fight and all that shit. Guess he got tired of the good fight."
"That's not true," Wesley said from behind her.
Turning to face him, she said, "No? Then what is the truth, Watcher man?"
"Travers wants to fight the good fight, as you put it. However, he doesn't want you or Buffy or anyone else working with you to fight it with him."
"What?"
Buffy snorted in disbelief. "What he means is Travers wants replacement Slayers. Isn't that right, Wesley?"
"Yes." The house rumbled in its foundation and chunks of plaster, slabs of wood, and sections of concrete tumbled loose from the jagged outline of the front wall. As the tremors faded, Wesley said, "We should continue this discussion in a safer location."
Buffy nodded. "I agree." Turning to Giles, she said, "Can you head to the house and make sure everyone made it to Spike's safely? I-"
"I don't think that'll be necessary, B," Faith said as she ran out of the crumbling house. At the edge of the gravel path stood Anya, covered with ash and soot and dirt. Through the black smudges streaked across her face, Faith saw the pale pallor of Anya's skin and her shell shocked golden eyes. "What happened?"
"Where's Buffy? I need to… talk to her."
Faith glanced over her shoulder, dark eyes locking on Buffy as she approached the two women. Hazel gaze flickering to Faith and then Anya, Buffy said, "Anya, what happened?"
Anya sucked in a shaky breath before she spoke, "We were… attacked at the house. They took Dawn. And Connor, too. Tyler's escaped. He left with the men who took Dawn and Connor. Emilia's a traitor." She paused and drew in another breath. "And your house… it's gone."
"What? What do you mean gone?"
"Gone. They blew it up. It's a big ball of orange flames right now. Everything you own is burning to a crisp."
"Oh." Buffy nodded slowly. She moved away from Anya and Faith, stumbling over a pile of debris from the displaced front wall and nearly falling to the ground; she was caught at the last moment by Spike who gently helped her regain her footing. Looking up at him, her hazel eyes wide with confusion, Buffy said, "He blew up my house."
Faith felt the rage begin to course through her veins as she watched Buffy and Anya, the two strongest women she knew, shake and shiver from shock. Eyes locked onto her clenched fists, she asked Anya, "Was anyone hurt?"
"Emilia got everyone out. She used her psychic abilities and emitted a mental emergency call in all of our heads. She's still unconscious though. Fred and Gunn were taken to the hospital. The force of the explosion knocked them across the yard and Fred broke her arm. Gunn suffered some burns and fractured his hand."
"What about Lorne and Clem?"
"They have some burns and bruises. Nothing too serious though. They took Emilia to Spike's house."
Silent, Faith turned, her dark eyes slowly scanning the faces of the front yard, gaze narrowing as she spotted Wesley. She stalked across the yard, shoving Charles out of her way, and she kicked Wesley's legs out from under him, knocking him to the ground. "Did you know about this?" she asked as he struggled to his feet. Faith kicked him in the chest and he fell to the ground again. "Did you know what Travers was going to do?"
Wesley stared up at her, his calm demeanor making her blood boil in irritation. "I didn't know," he said quietly. "I would have stopped Travers if I had known about this. I had nothing to do with taking Dawn and Connor or destroying Buffy's home. Neither did Charles." He pushed off the ground and slowly stood, eyes watching Faith, waiting for her to attack him again. "I will explain everything but not here. We need to get someplace safe."
"Fine." She grabbed Wesley by his shirt and shoved him down the gravel path. Walking behind him, keeping him within her sights at all times, Faith said to the group, "We're moving to Spike's house. Now. I want to know what the hell is going on."
* * *Red and white emergency lights flashed, casting an eerie glow upon the suburban houses lining Revello Drive. A blackened charred husk was all that remained of the Summers home, and a jolt of undiluted fury swept through Spike at the sight of the obliterated building. Nothing was salvageable. Everything was a pile of smoking ashes, a lifetime's worth of memories now dust in the wind.
He found Buffy a block from her house, hazel eyes dull as she stared at the firefighters, policeman, and bystanders gawking at what was left of 1630 Revello Drive. As the group had filed into his house, she had turned and jumped off the porch, streaking across the cemetery in the direction of Revello. She didn't acknowledge his approach and continued staring at the burnt shell of her home.
"He took her away from me," she said, voice low and hollow. "Took away all I had left of her. There's nothing…"
Spike slid his hand into the pocket of his black jacket and removed a small photograph. He gazed down at the three women in the picture, each one tearing down all that was wrong about him and rebuilding it with their strength and love and sheer determination to turn him into something better than what fate wanted him to be. He passed the picture to Buffy and said, "Nibblet gave it to me summer you were gone. She didn't want me to be all alone in my crypt, so she put it in a frame, gave it to me as a present. First time anyone had given me a gift since I became a vampire. I still have the frame if you want it. I just always carried the photo around with me. Didn't need the frame so much."
She brushed her finger against the smiling image of Joyce, the photograph shaking in her trembling hands. Crystalline drops of tears fell onto the picture as her thumb skated across the smirking figure of Dawn. Spike moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pressing his cheek to the top of her head. She leaned against him for a moment before turning in his arms and resting her head on his chest, her hot tears soaking into his black cotton t-shirt.
"He took her away from me," Buffy said again, and Spike didn't know whether she meant Joyce or Dawn, whether she knew if she meant Joyce or Dawn or both women. She pulled away from him, linking one of her hands with his as she turned and looked at the remnants of her home, the red and white of the emergency lights flashing upon her skin. "He took her away. That was a mistake."