Chapter 24:

********************

Drusilla was no fool. She knew what the fates had in mind for her. She'd seen it, and she was not afraid. What had to be, had to be, and there was no hiding from it. Hiding only made the fates chase you down. Hiding only made them angry. She knew that, too, her Daddy was an example. He had been running from his fate for over a hundred years, and now, he was tired, and the fates were catching up with him, no matter how hard he ran.

She was only trying to be a good mother, and help her child get rid of the sickness that he had inside of him; a sickness he didn't know he had. The sickness made William blind to how weak it made him. Drusilla knew that she, and Miss Edith, could save him, even if the fates caught up with her soon after, some day, William would know she was right.

Miss Edith reminded her that she was neglecting her guest; it had been so long since she hosted a proper tea, she was a little out of practice, as to what was expected. She turned toward her guest, "It has been so long since I have had the chance to entertain visitors," she said wistfully, "The last gentleman caller that graced my parlor, was my William," her guest nodded, empathetically, "and he was so patient with me, that I could have had the most appalling manners, and he would not have said a word," Drusilla wrung her hands with worry, " Am I doing it right? It's been so long, sometimes I forget things."

Holland's voice was pleasant, "Oh, don't worry, Drusilla," he said as he sipped his cup of Earl Grey, politely, "the tea is just fine. And, I'm sure a lady, such as yourself, never forgets how to be a lady."
************************

Dawn and Willow sat together, enjoying the way the light, coming into the sanctuary as people, carefully, came and went, chased the shadows, making beautiful lace patterns of light on the wall.

Dawn silently thanked whoever was watching after her, because the small shadow play on the wall, brought her the words she needed, "He's kind of like that. You know what I mean, Willow? Spike's both light and dark, at the same time. Taken separately, they both can hurt, but if they're mixed together, in the right way, they can be something wonderful. I don't understand how Angel can claim that the bad things that he did, weren't his responsibility. Spike's not a different person now; he's the same Spike he's always been. He's just Spike, with a soul; in fact, he wouldn't have that soul, if he hadn't realized that it was he who tried to do that awful thing to Buffy that night, and tried to make it right, somehow. Spike knew he was the only one who'd done it. How does Angel get off saying that the things he did weren't his fault? Angel and Angelus aren't two separate people, so why does he get a free pass?"

Willow took a deep breath before she jumped into that mess. For such a small girl, Dawn thought some pretty big thoughts. Maybe it was a side effect of being an eternal Key, "I don't know, Dawn," Willow said, wondering how to put this into words that didn't sound self-serving, "maybe making the things he did separate in his mind, made them easier to deal with," she held Dawn closer, "I know that, if I could I would pawn off what I did as dark-eyed Willow on someone else," she looked down, and whispered the rest, "but I can't. It was me, and I know that," Willow's voice got stronger, " I think Angel's been running from what he did, for a long time," she shook her head, in commiseration with Dawn's confusion, "But, no one can run forever. Sooner or later, it all will catch up with him," her mind went over the events of the past few months, "Maybe it's already started," she said.
*************************

Spike had said that if he wasn't careful, he'd get swallowed. And now, here he was, in the belly of a monster that was using him to do something horrible to the only family he had left, with no idea how to get out, or even if it was possible to escape. He had, indeed, been swallowed, and it had happened so slowly that he hadn't even noticed until it was too late.

He shook his head again, pacing by the curtained window, "Cordy, there's no way out of this," he said, grimly, "If I help, Spike could die. If I don't help, Buffy could die, and Spike could die. And, if he doesn't, he'll probably wish he had, and then he'll kill me. This is just like that cube puzzle with the different colors on each side, that you're supposed to mix up, and then put back together again. It's all so intertwined and mixed up that there's no way to put it back the way it was; no way to solve it," Angel sank back into his chair, exhausted and frazzled.

"Take it easy, Angel," Cordy said, trying to help him see that, maybe, there was a way for things to be all right. She didn't really see it, but that wasn't why Angel had brought her here. She was here to help him, and she was going to try, because that is what he needed right now. The Powers were counting on her to help Angel see the pinpoint of light in the dark fog that blocked his vision, "Maybe you're not the key here, Angel," she was saying, "Maybe Spike is the one we should be watching here."

Angel was flummoxed, "Cordy," he said, "right now, Spike couldn't even swat a fly. Just how is he going to fight?"

"You're right," Cordy nodded, "as of now, physically, Spike is weak. But, he's getting stronger the longer Drusilla's here. And, if it comes down to a battle of wits, with Dru, no offense, Angel, but Spike's the one I'd put my money on, not you," she smiled, as something just occurred to her, "Angel," she asked, "just who was it that you signed your life away to?"

"The Circle of Black Thorn," Angel answered.

She nodded, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, "And, how many members are there left?"
************************
 

Chapter 25:

Buffy hated to cause him anymore pain, but he was right, he couldn't help her fight if he didn't feel comfortable. If being comfortable meant enduring some pain, she knew Spike could take it. After all, what's a little searing pain after nearly being incinerated...twice?

"Sorry, Spike," she hissed in sympathy, as she watched his face contort in agony as the cloth brushed lightly against his traumatized skin.

"It's all right, Slayer," he groaned, "A little pain," he gritted his teeth as Buffy guided his feet into the trousers, "cleanses the soul," he was calmed a bit by the rhythm that sounded through him as he leaned against her as she slid the trousers past his hips.

The little respite he had was shattered when she knelt in front of him to tie the drawstring at his waste. The demon inside was pounding in his skull; the man was dizzy with desire, her pulse pounded in his brain. The scent of her was driving him mad. He knew, that, if he hadn't been in such a weakened state, the demon would have overtaken him, and that night in her bath would have happened all over again.

He stopped that train of thought. No, he thought, you're the better man. You can control the beast. It doesn't rule you. He stilled her hands, "Pet," he said, gently, hoping she wouldn't notice how close he was to falling over the edge of reason, "best to let a man do up his own trousers, yeah?"

She looked up at him, with shimmering green eyes, "You're sure," she asked.

"It doesn't take all that much energy to tie a knot, Love," he sighed, "I think I can handle that much on my own."

"Well," she hesitated, but something in Spike's eyes told her not to push the issue, "if you're sure," she said, as she stood up.

Spike nodded, slightly, grateful that she had let the conversation drop, "Certain sure, Pet," he told her, "Thank you," his voice was suddenly weaker than he would have wanted it to be, an indication of the tumult going on within, " for trying to help."

"Don't thank me, Spike," she shook her head, at the way their roles had been reversed. There was a time, in the not-so-distant past that she had been the bruised and battered one, and he was her nurse. The only difference was, her injuries hadn't been as obvious, to anyone but him. "I haven't even begun to repay the debt I owe you."

Spike marveled at the tiny woman who held so much power, yet could be as fragile as fine crystal. He loved her so much it was hard to find the words to express just how much, "Buffy," he said, "whatever it is you think you owe me, please, consider the account pain in full."
****************************

There was a knock at the door. Angel looked at bedside clock, still an hour until sundown, this was unexpected. Anyone who knew he was here, knew better than to disturb him until just before sunset, when he would leave to escort Drusilla to Spike's apartment, for his next feeding. The only reason, he could think of, why anyone would be here, at this time of day, was if there was some kind of emergency.

The dread, of that thought, alone drove him to the door, "Is there something wrong with Spike?" he asked, as he opened the door.

Holland Manners shrugged his shoulders, "I honestly couldn't answer that question, Angel," he said, coolly, "But, isn't it strange how great minds think alike? Spike is just who I wanted to speak with you about," he said, as he pushed his way, without much resistance from a shocked Angel, into the apartment.

"If anything's happened to him," Angel fumed, "If you've done anything to him, I swear," Angel growled, grabbing Holland by the lapels of his Brooks Brothers suit, " I will find a way to bring you back to life, just so that I can have the pleasure of killing you all over again."

"My, my," Holland said, calmly, barely phased by Angel's show of force, "such fatherly protectiveness. How the worm has turned," he chuckled.

Angel tossed Holland against his leather sofa, "You came to talk," he bit out, "so talk. Then, get out, you disgusting parasite."

"Name calling does nothing to foster goodwill, Angel," Holland said.

"There's nothing good about any of this, Holland," Angel snapped.

"Ah," Holland said, smugly, "That's why I like you. You don't fuss around, right down to business. Now that we've gotten the idle chatter out of the way, we can get down to why I'm here."

"And, why is that?" Angel hissed.

Holland shook his head, "It's your wayward grandchild, Angel. It's Spike. Something has to be done, before he ruins everything we've built."
**************************

Buffy wanted to make him as comfortable as possible, as she placed him gently on his small bed, "You okay, Spike?" she asked.

Spike tried, unsuccessfully, to fight the wave of bitterness that swelled in him, at the indignity of being carried around, like a child, "I'd be better if I didn't have to have you cart me the five feet from my loo to my bed," he grumbled.

"Spike, I really don't mind," she said, patiently, "And, anyway, Drusilla will be here," she looked at her watch, "in about forty-five minutes. So," she winked at him, and put on a fairly decent imitation of his speech pattern, "no worries, mate."

Spike groaned, and covered his eyes, while at the same time trying to control the loud guffaw that threatened to take control of him, "Buffy, please, don't mutilate the English language any further."

Buffy stopped speaking. She was so quiet that Spike had to look at her, just to be sure she was still in the room. When he did look at her he found her grinning like the Cheshire cat, bouncing like a coiled spring, "I knew I could get a grin," she said, "Don't try to hide it. I know you want to laugh. Go ahead," she said, "This may be a one time offer. You may never get the chance to laugh at me again, without getting a punch in the nose. So, live it up, while you can."

"Oh, Slayer," Spike sighed as he let the laughter roll through him, "you say the sweetest things."
***********************

"So you see the dilemma," Holland said, "He's a wildcard. Unpredictable. The firm has tried to plan for every contingency here; but he's the one factor that's fluid in this equation."

"You don't control me," Angel hissed, eyeing him menacingly.

Holland smiled, an eel's smile, "That's where you'd be wrong, Angel. We've had, any threat you would have posed, to our operation, neutralized for some time. Now, don't you think it's about time you escorted the lady, Drusilla, to her engagement for the evening?"
*******************************

"Just how will you keep Drusilla from knowing that you're going to help me prepare to fight her, Spike?" Buffy asked.

"That's easy, Pet. All I need do, is remind myself how Angelus took advantage of your desperation and grief, to try and claim someone whose heart doesn't belong to him."

Buffy's eyes widened, " Spike, I told you, I did that so that you wouldn't hurt me, when you were out of your head," her voice was gaining pitch, "Please, Spike, don't be angry."

"I'm not angry at you, Buffy," he assured her, "Angelus, however, receives no such courtesy," Spike looked at her stricken face, "Buffy," he said, "he took advantage of you, and of me. He used our mutual grief to keep us apart, for as long as he could. Then, when he couldn't keep us apart, he thought he would use the vampire pecking order to do it. All in the guise of being the benevelent Angel he thinks he is. Makes me want to heave," he said, with disgust, "Before this is over, he'll know who the real champion is around here, if he doesn't know already. You can be sure of that, Pet," Spike said, as he gave Buffy a reassuring kiss, "Now, no worries," he winked, "Put your game face on, Pet. Drusilla will be here soon, and she can be cool as a snake. Best not to get bit."
*********************
 

Chapter 26:

Drusilla watched from the safety of her hotel suite as the last blush of daylight faded into dusk. Her Daddy would be here soon. She flittered around the room, making sure everything was in place.

She ran her hands over the carved wood case that contained the bauble and opened it, to be certain that it was safe. She admired the rainbow of light that she could still see playing inside the small space. Drusilla still didn't know how this little, delicate thing was going to help bring her William back to her. The ether was a wicked thing. It was hard to grasp things that couldn't be grasped. But, Holland told her that this would help her be a mother again. He had been such help before that Drusilla saw no reason to disbelieve him, now. Just how this would work she wasn't sure. But, she knew that if she waited the unknown things would come to her.
***********************

Angel strode down the carpeted corridors of the hotel with purpose. How dare Holland imply that he was not his own man. How dare that little eel slither in here and tell him that he was a puppet. Okay, so there was that time that he actually was a puppet, but that was beside the point. No one controlled him. He was his own man. He was a champion, and before this was over, Holland would know it.

He arrived at the mahogany door, and knocked. A familiar face, adorned with an eye patch, answered the door.

"Come in, Angel," he said as he stood back from the door.

Angel came into the room and came face to face with a sea of faces. All of whom counted themselves as Spike's friends. Although, some of them did so more reluctantly than others, there was no denying that they were here because, in one way or another Spike helped them at one time. Now, they were just returning the favor.

He acknowledged them all with a curt nod, "Ready to do this?"

"Yes," Riley said, as he checked, and shouldered his tranquilizer gun. He led the parade of rag-tag people on the march down the hall to Drusilla's room.
*******************************

"I've got a confession to make," Buffy said, her eyes downcast and her hand reaching into the pocket of her dungarees.

"What's that?" Spike asked, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"I've had a kind of security blanket. I've used it for about a year now. Now that you know that I've needed something I haven't needed since I was a child," she looked up at him, "Still respect me?"

"I always did like Mr. Gordo," he said, "It takes a strong woman to admit she needs help. And, you are the strongest woman I know. What is this 'security blanket' of yours, Pet?"

Buffy was embarrassed. As she slipped her fingers around the object in her pocket, she wasn't sure how he would react to seeing it again. Let alone the fact that she had kept it with her after he was gone. She remembered shoving it into a box with Willow's candles, only to fish it out later. That day, on the bus, she had taken it out of the duffel of Spike's things. The duffel stayed, silently waiting for its owner's return. But, he never did. Seeing the little cloth bag, so forlorn without its owner, made her heart ache. So she decided to adopt some of his orphan belongings.

"This is my pride and joy," she said fishing the chrome plated lighter out of her pocket, "Or at least it was. Now that you're here, it's yours again." She placed the lighter gently in his hand.

Spike felt the weight of the lighter in his hands. It had been a long time since he held it in his hands, but his fingers closed around it as if it had never left. As if it was a part of him.

Spike's eyes tilted in contemplation of the lighter, and Buffy, "Is this..." he sighed, disbelievingly.

"Sure is," she nodded.

"Oh," he choked, "good to know my trinkets were safe."
**********************

Drusilla waited for her gentleman caller. He was to arrive at dusk, and she had just watched the last rays of daylight be chased away by the pretty shadows. Soon the stars would be singing to her, and she would be able to help her boy be strong again. Mr. Manners had promised.

The firm, strong rapping on the door brought Drusilla out of her reverie. With a flourish and a rustle of her skirts, she opened the door. There she saw her Daddy, looking stern, and cross.

"Daddy," she whimpered, "that sour face spoils the game before it's even started."

"Drusilla," Angel scowled, "I am in no mood," he grabbed her by the arm and hissed, "Let's get this done."

It was then that Drusilla noticed her armed escort. "My," she squealed, "all this pomp and circumstance for such a little girl?"

"It was the only way to make sure that Spike would get what he needs from you," Angel said.

"Tisk, tisk, Daddy. Do you really think I'd put William in danger?" she pouted.

Angel nodded to his companions, "They're here to make sure you don't."
*******************************

"Well," Buffy smiled, "don't you look great! Almost as good as new."

"Almost," Spike smirked, "I have to admit, I never really gave the blue hues a chance. After one hundred years of black, it's just easier to go with what you know."

Buffy was finally beginning to relax a little. Things were going to get better. She was finally starting to believe. "A little more of that good old mother's milk, and you will be back on the prowl in no time."

"Let's hope so, Pet. This idleness is starting to make me stir crazy."

There was a very distinctive knock at the door. Buffy opened it to reveal Drusilla, flanked, on either side by the new and improved Scoobies.

"Well," Buffy said, over her shoulder, to Spike, "I hope your ready, because I think it's show time."
*********************************

The sun had risen hours ago. Drusilla was taken weakened and paler than normal, from the stress of the feeding, by Angel and the majority of the others, back to her hotel room.

The blood had helped. Now Spike looked near to perfection. There was even some dark peach fuzz on his head that Buffy supposed would pass for hair. Who knew that Spike had honey brown hair under all that peroxide?

There were still some scars that hadn't healed. Buffy supposed that they were permanent. A kind of reminder of the journey he'd been through, as if she and he needed any reminders.

The others had retreated back to 'Scooby Central,' so now all that was left to do was wait for Spike to wake up.

As if on cue, Spike opened his eyes, that looked extremely rested, and looked at her. The mischief in his eyes was something she had missed.

"Hey," Buffy said, stoking his cheek.

"Hey, yourself," Spike purred.

"How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly well. Want to dance, Pet?"
****************************

 

Chapter 27:

It didn't happen often in sunny Los Angeles, but it did happen. Storm clouds were gathering, in more ways than one. Angel could see the dark clouds swirling in the sky. He felt cold. Down to his core, he felt cold. The cold had been his only companion for so long that he didn't think he could recognize anything else.

That was until Spike showed up. Then, he began to feel something other than cold. He felt heat, boiling up from his toes and eating away at his heart. The heat should have warmed him but it only burned him through and through. He wondered how Spike could survive for as long as he had with a flame so bright inside of him that Angel could warm himself with just the echoes that he saw in Spike's eyes.

Angel had existed long enough that he'd seen that glow before. Spike wasn't unique. He'd tried to warm himself, long ago, in the shadows of Darla's light. He tried to bask in the borrowed light of Buffy, Fred and Cordy. But, that only left him shivering in the cold of their light's reflection. He had tied to find a resonance for his emptiness in the wake of the love of James and Elizabeth. But, all their love did was remind him of what he has been missing since he'd closed his eyes to Darla. He'd lost something he didn't even know he'd had until it was gone.

Spike wasn't the first, and Angel knew he wouldn't be the last to show him how incomplete he really was.

Outside, the thunder rumbled and crashed through the sky. Angel watched as lightening ripped a line of light through the darkening, grey skies. He watched as the droplets of water started their lazy path down the glass of his window. They came slowly at first, and then as the storm gathered strength, the water seemed to throw itself against the glass. It was as if the water wanted to do anything it had to, to escape the turmoil that Angel knew was coming.

Outside it rained. And, inside, Angel was cold.
****************

Buffy pushed Spike gently in the chest, "Take it easy, Spike. You haven't used your muscles in months. Just rest for a little while longer. If you take on too much, and hurt yourself, you won't be able to help me fight Drusilla."

"And, if I wait," Spike closed his eyes in trepidation, "I don't even want to think about it. I don't have the time to be mollycoddled, Slayer," the weight of his words showed in his voice, and on his face, " I don't have the time. And neither do you. Now, if you don't mind," Spike was pushing his bed linens aside, and trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed, "help me up."

Buffy shook her head looking at him with pity, "Spike, just wait ten minutes..."

There was a flame of disgust in his eyes, "Don't look at me like that, Slayer! I spent months holding on to the memory of your eyes. Sometimes it was the only thing that kept me from going mad. The idea that you were somewhere in the world; that those eyes of yours were, maybe, seeing the stars that I looked at every night kept me going, not just after the fiasco in that alley, but before. I remembered your eyes," his voice shook with emotion, " And, in all that time, on all those nights, I have never seen you pity me, until now."

Buffy was hurt, " Spike," she whimpered, trying not to let the venom sting her, "I didn't mean to..."

"I know, Pet," he hung his head, ashamed of his own anger, "just help me up. Please?"

Buffy knew that there was no use fighting him. Once he put his mind to something he wouldn't quit until it was accomplished. No matter how long it took and how much pain he had to go through to do it, if he wanted it bad enough, it got done.

"Okay," she conceded, " but you'll lean on me, if you need to, won't you?"

"Yeah, Pet. I promise."
********************

A representative from the Home Office, if one cared to look back through history, was behind every despot and mass-murdering psychopath, as if there were any other kind, of any consequence. Granted, the handling of the Angelus file didn't mean upward mobility for Holland Manners, but someone had to handle this. Someone who could be subtle, who could deliver the death knell, with a velvet glove and deliver it in such a way as to be unnoticed until the hammer had long since fallen. Holland was certainly qualified. He'd been deep in this assignment for years. Getting killed didn't let him off the hook; it just made his job much easier. After all, who needed to plant listening devices when one of your best agents was, essentially, incorporeal and could slip in and out, at any time, virtually, undetected.

Of course Holland would accept the bonus the Home Office offered him for completing this assignment ahead of schedule. He would be a fool if he did not. Although, he had to admit, he would have done this, at no charge, just to see the look on Angel's face.

Holland checked the calendar and took note of the projected end date for the "Sisyphus Project," as it was called around the office, and nodded, silently pleased with himself. He put the slim leather volume back in his breast pocket, and said, "We're ahead of the timetable. Nothing works better than an 'unscheduled' apocalypse to move things along at a good clip."
***************************

Watching him slowly prowl the room, Buffy could have jumped for joy. He hadn't been on his feet a whole ten minutes and he was already networking. She was almost jealous of the recipient of that smooth talk and those honeyed words, "I couldn't be more surprised myself," he said into the phone, "You're a bit of all right, George. How soon can you hire it," the elevated eyebrow showed that even he was impressed, "You remember the address, don't you? That's right. See you soon," he said as he hung up the phone.

"George isn't some fat old guy, is he?" Buffy asked, suddenly remembering that that tone was reserved for persons of the female variety.

"No, she's a little girl from Wolfram and Hart's motor pool. She's a genius with an engine. She can make an auto do things you've never thought were possible," he stopped when he saw Buffy's eyes glaze over. When she looked like that, Spike knew it was time to shut up, "And, I'm waxing a bit too poetic about someone who's not you, aren't I?"

At least he had the decency to look sheepish, "Kind of, yeah," she admitted.

"Sorry. It's just that, when I was a ghost, I didn't have many friends, aside from Fred. She was someone who didn't mind me popping in to see her on occasion. She got sacked before all the ugliness started," he smirked devilishly, " Started her own garage, with my help."

Buffy hated to encourage him, but the look on his face was too delicious. She smiled to herself, now she was even starting to talk to herself like him, "I'm almost afraid to ask."

The smirk got bigger, "Good instincts. I nicked some of Angel's best cars for her to tinker with," he shook his head at how gullible Angel was, "I kept telling him I'd wrecked the ones he'd lent to me. He never asked questions, he just let me have another whenever I asked. It was like Christmas."

"And," Buffy asked, shyly, "George isn't some old demon, right?"

"No. She's human. A bit on the young side," he paused to take in the flush of Buffy's cheeks, "But then, I am over one hundred and thirty, so young's relative, isn't it?" he smiled, he couldn't help it, Buffy looked so sweet, all flushed like she was now, "Why do you ask," he grazed her cheek with the knuckles of his hand, "You know it's you I love, right?"

The look in his eyes told her he was telling her the truth, "Yes."
****************************

It had taken some time to get all the players in their proper positions. Some of the groundwork for this project had been laid centuries ago. It was finally all coming into place.

Holland opened his umbrella as he exited the limousine. Today was one of the few days that allowed him to engineer things in the daylight hours. Just a few more hours, and they'd all be in the right place at the right time. Then, the real play could start.

As he entered the hotel, he shook his umbrella dry, and headed for Drusilla's suite.

Holland had been concerned about the guard that would, most assuredly, be placed at her door. But, he needn't have worried. The sentinel had fallen asleep. And, there wasn't much chance of him seeing anything anyway, he did have only one eye, and that was tightly closed, in sleep.

He gently rapped on the door, "Drusilla," he called, "we must go now if we're to get there on time. Mustn't be late, you know."

Drusilla opened the door, clearly confused, "Holland? But, it's not moonrise yet," she rubbed her eyes, sleepily, "And, I'm ever so tired."

"I know. But, it's raining, so no need to worry about that nasty old sunshine, at the moment," he smiled at her, "There's a nice, fancy car, with dark windows, outside for you and I to ride in," he held his arm for her to take, "Come on."

"But," she pouted, "I'll get wet."

"I thought of that," Holland said, showing her his umbrella.

"Oh, that's so thoughtful," she said, taking his arm, and gliding past her sleeping watchman.
************************

"Well, I'll be damned," Georgina said, as she hugged him, "I never thought I'd see you again! Not after that fireball. It took up a whole six city blocks!"

"Good to see you again too, George," Spike smiled, holding Buffy a little tighter, "George, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

The light of recognition shone in the mechanic's eyes as she looked at Buffy and nodded, No introduction needed. You're Buffy, right?"

"Yeah," Buffy answered.

Georgina shook her hand, enthusiastically, "It's nice to finally meet the legend. Are you sure you're not some movie star or something," she asked, nodding back at the door, "You need a passport, and a pedigree to get past that G.I. Joe at the door."

"No," she smiled, "I'm just me."

"Well 'Just me' ruined old Spike here for anybody else," she sighed, "Believe me, I did try."

"That you did," he agreed, "The reason I rang you, George, was to ask if we could borrow your garage for a few days. She needs a place to stretch her legs. My flat's a bit cramped."

"Sure Spike," she said, quickly, "I'm going on vacation anyway. You can have the run of the place for a whole week," she tossed Spike the keys to the car she'd driven to the apartment, "Here are the keys to the Viper. It's all gassed, and tuned, up and purring like a kitten."

"Thanks, George," he said.

"Where are we going," Buffy asked, as George left.

"Somewhere you can train."
***************

"But where are we going?" Drusilla asked.

"Somewhere we can watch it all come together," Holland replied.

"But, I haven't even sent the invitations," Drusilla sighed, "How will they know to come to my party?"

"Not to worry, Drusilla," Holland smiled, "I'll be sending them out, soon enough."
**********************
 

Chapter 28:

Buffy watched as his face blanched and his knees wobbled. If it hadn't been for her Slayer training he would have crashed to the floor, "See, I told you to wait," Buffy was all but holing Spike up as she guided him back to the bed, "Now, sit down," her voice was stern, but her touch was gentle.

Spike looked at the gleam in Buffy's eyes, and didn't know whether to grimace or grin, "There's my Slayer," he decided to grin, "The velvet fist. Tough and soft all rolled in one."

"Yeah well, right now I don't know which will get through that thick skull of yours faster."

"Right now the only thing that's in my head is getting you ready to fight Drusilla," his voice tightened in frustration, "And, how am I going to do that, if I can't even stand for twenty minutes?"

"Exactly my point. I know it feels like you've been standing still for months," she caught the anguished look in his eye, "I know you think that, if you don't jump right in," she knelt so that her eyes were level with his, and took his hand, "and fight the next big thing that comes along, that I'll think you're weak, or something..."

Spike shook his head, "Buffy, that's not..."

She pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him, "Let me finish. I don't think you're weak. In fact, these past few months have shown me just how strong you really are. You may not have been on your feet fighting, but you were fighting," Buffy swallowed hard, "The fact that you're still here proves that. Now you deserve a rest. And, so do I," she made a small concession, "At least until sundown."

Spike took hold of Buffy's wrist and slowly drew her hand away from his lips, "But Dru..."

Buffy sighed, " I suspect that Dru is a lot like her Daddy. Not in it for the quick kill," she knew that if it could, Spike's heart would have stopped cold, again, at the thought of her death. She could see the pain of the idea in his eyes, "Not that I would ever give her the chance to lay even a fingernail on me. She can wait," she smiled sadly, "It's my turn to heal."

At his questioning look, she gave him a soft kiss.
************************************

Drusilla marveled at the amount of space in the abandoned building. She had been so excited at the prospect of having her William home again, soon, that she and Miss Edith twirled like tops and raced to find every last niche that the building could offer. There were so many places that precious things could get lost in, and never be found again.

Mr. Manners had promised her that the game would be fun. And, she knew it would be. William would remember that her games were always fun.

"Oh, Holland," she squealed, "However did you find it? It's perfect. I can't wait for William and Daddy to come to my party."

"I'm so glad you approve, Drusilla," Holland said, "I spent years preparing to host your party. I just wouldn't feel right if you didn't appreciate all the work that went into making this just right for you."

"Oh, but I love it," she beamed, "When my William gets home, it'll be ever so much better," she stopped, a worried look crossed her face, "Have the invitations been sent out yet?"

Holland shook his head, patiently, "Now Drusilla," he said, "aren't you forgetting something? You're lucky I remembered and went back for it, or we couldn't have your party."

Drusilla looked puzzled, her face pinched in concentration, " What could I have forgotten? Oh, yes," she nodded to herself as Holland Manners opened his brief case, and showed her what was inside, "the trinket."

"Yes," Holland said, as he watched the prisms of light bounce in the dark space, "the Orb of Thesula. You can't have your party without that. Remember, I told you?"

"I remember."

"Good. Now, if you'll just wait a few more nights," Holland assured her, "I'll get word to all the guests where the party's to be held, and then you can play the game just however you like."
*********************************

With that one, small kiss, Spike knew what it was that Buffy wanted. She didn't have to say a word. He was tempted to forget all that his soul had taught him. He almost let the demon get the better of him. He wanted her so badly. It had been so long since he'd held her, really held her, that if he let himself be swayed by his needs and desires, he didn't know if he could stop.

The demon in him understood what passion with her could be like. It was a fire that burned like no other he'd ever experienced. The demon had been willing to risk everything just to be close to her. It risked it all, just for the smallest crumb of love. But, the soul was different. He was different, now. He'd been burned before, and now he wasn't willing to jump into the fire again, without first knowing where he stood.

"Buffy, Buffy stop," he said, breathlessly, as he gently pushed her away.

She rocked back on her heels and looked at him with wide eyes and said, breathless herself now, "What, but why?"

Spike looked up at he chipped paint on his ceiling, both in search of the words that would express how he was feeling at this moment, and to somehow escape her large doe eyes. He huffed breaths as if he'd run a marathon, "Buffy," he shook his head, suddenly dizzy from having her so close to him, "you have no idea how much I want this. God, you have no idea." He could hear the rhythms of her body speed up, and he knew he was wrong. She did know, because she wanted it too. "But, it's different now, Love. The demon in me wants you just as much as it ever did. It always wants you. It never stopped," Spike finally calmed enough to look into her eyes, "You have to believe that. But, the man, the soul," he chewed his lip, unsure he should tell her, "Love, that's new. It's never... I mean I've never..." he let his words fall into the chasm between them, suddenly ashamed.

Buffy saw the want in his eyes. She saw the need that was matched only by her own. But, she saw something else, too. There was a certain shyness in them. A kind of newness she hadn't seen before, not even back in Sunnydale in those last days. She tried to remember back to when her own reflection, in the mirror, looked like what was staring back at her now. She hadn't seen that look since before Angel had gone homicidal. Not since the world came crashing down, the weight of it on her shoulders.

Buffy hadn't seen that look since before she'd become old, before she was twenty, and jaded by life. She remembered the light in his eyes, and she understood.

The swell of emotions threatened to burst forth in a torrent of giggles and tears. She had to use every power available to her to keep the breakers from crashing, and keep Spike's dignity intact; "You mean you haven't ...ever?" she was in awe, "With a soul, I mean?"

"No. I haven't. Not with a soul."

"Is that a danger?" she asked, her heart aching for him because of her need to know, and her reason for needing to know, "Is there some way you could lose the soul? Is that why you were so careful, back in Sunnydale?"

Spike fought the need to throw his head back and roar. He could feel the blood boiling inside him. The demon wanted to roar at her. Then, it wanted to tear Angelus limb from limb for being Buffy's only template to draw from as to how a vampire with a soul was supposed to behave. So far as he knew, there were only two in the entire world, and that wanker had to be her first. That tainted how she looked at everything, and everyone, from that day until this.

"No, Buffy," he said, trying to keep the flood of anger he felt from spilling out, "there's no way I could lose my soul, at least not literally, unless I tore it out of my chest," he tried to smile, and was surprised when he saw Buffy smiling back, "No little happy thought is going to make it fly away. It's my soul. And, it's staying where it is," he touched her cheek, and felt her lean against his fingers, "The reason I'm different, both back then and now, is because of what happened," he hated to bring back bad memories, "between us. I need to know that you love me."

She nodded. Buffy knew that she would start crying if she looked at him any longer, so she looked away to hide her tears.

At the slight turn of her head, Spike's throat seized. He didn't think he could finish asking her what he wanted to know. He was truly afraid of her answer. The lump in his throat made his voice weak. He drew her gaze back to his, "Buffy," he wheezed, then swallowed, taking a tiny bit of comfort in her warm, loving eyes, "Buffy," he tried again, this time the voice came stronger, "I need to know. Do you forgive me?"

"Oh, yes," she breathed, tears spilling out her eyes. Saying those two little words to him had somehow lifted the weight of worlds off of her shoulders, "I forgive you, Spike. And, I promise we won't do anything you're not ready for. Okay?"
*********************************

The rain whipped outside his window. It was as if the universe sensed his mood, and gave it physical form so that he, and everyone else who cared to know, could see it. It was as if all the furies had chosen to unleash on Los Angeles today. The wind was so strong that it tossed the pedestrians who were foolish enough to venture out with their tiny umbrellas, like they were little toys, swept away as if by an unseen child in a fit of temper.

And maybe, when you got right down to the brass tacks of it, that's what they all were. Just toys to be used for a little season, and then forgotten about when they no longer held any interest for whatever cosmic brat was up there playing with all of them.

"Sad, really," Holland mused, as he appeared, up from the ether, next to Angel, "to think that your destiny might be in the hands of a child. Oh, I'm sorry," Holland's voice dripped with false concern, "yours really is. I'd forgotten. As a matter of fact, it's in the hands of two children, even as we speak, isn't it?" The Orb of Thesula appeared in his hands, "Your destiny," he said lazily, as he watched the colors swirl inside of it, "in Spike's hands," Holland shook his head as he tossed the crystal sphere, in small arches, into the air. Each time the delicate thing came to rest safely in his palm, "That has to be more than just a little nerve wracking, doesn't it? Gosh, I really hope he doesn't drop it," Holland pouted, "Now that would be unfortunate, wouldn't it?"

"Go away Holland," Angel growled.

"What, and miss Drusilla's party? That would be rude."

"Get out of here before I throw you out this window."

"You could try that," Holland's tone brightened, and he gave Angel a slap on the shoulder, "Wouldn't help, though. I'd just come back. But, don't worry, not all hope is lost. There's still Cordy's idea. After all, who cares about a little contract? Contracts are broken all the time. Court dockets are full to the brim with contract disputes. It's what greases the wheels of our judicial system. What's one more, in the scheme of things?" he paused, in thought, "But, then, doing that could just be what the Home Office needs to put you over the top, couldn't it? On top of that, you wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't tried to manipulate Spike's destiny like a master puppeteer. What's a vampire with a soul to do?" he hissed in sympathy, "I know I wouldn't want to be you," he sighed, "No sir, not for a king's ransom."
***********************

For the first time in a year, he wished the floor of his flat wasn't so cold. "Sorry Love," he said, wishing he could do something to warm the place a bit for her, "We do seem to be making a habit of not needing furniture, don't we?"

"Well, it's not like this apartment is set up to entertain ladies in, now is it," she teased, "There's nothing but beer and otter's blood in your refrigerator. Not even a cookie to be seen anywhere."

"Not much for biscuits, Love."

"There was that one time. Remember, Willow's spell?"

Spike smiled. Buffy Summers, how I do love you, "One polka dot biscuit does not a diet make, Love. Still, there should be something. I didn't feature still being here, so it didn't seem to matter."

"Hey, don't worry. I'm not complaining," at Spike's quizzical expression, she added, "Okay, so I am," she shrugged, "But that face of yours doesn't need to be all scrunched up with worry lines over me. I haven't seen that face looking so happy in a long time. I missed that face. I don't want to make that face worry anymore. Not if I can help it," she said as she smoothed his brow.

"This face will always worry for you. It comes with the territory of loving you, nothing a vamp can do about that. Ask Peaches," he smirked, "he had spies keeping tabs on you. But, if you spotted them, nothing could be traced to him. So, he could stay comfortably aloof about the whole thing."

"Really," Buffy watched the light in his eyes twinkle with mirth, "and how do you know this?"

"He told me. We were on a recovery mission in Rome..."

Buffy's eyes widened in surprise, "That was you? You were there?" she seemed to be replaying the events of that night in her head. She bit her lip, "Were you...? Yes, of course you were. I knew it. I felt it," at Spike's confused look, she explained, "You were in my apartment, weren't you?"

He nodded.

"I knew it," she sighed, tracing her fingertips over his eyebrows, dipping into the hollow of his scar and back over the curve of his earlobe, "I should have trusted it. My instincts aren't that rusty! Maybe I could have helped."

"No Love, don't think like that. What's in the past should stay there. The fates conspired to keep us apart, with a little help from my ponce of a Grandsire," he kissed the tip of her nose, "But, not anymore. Nothing, and no one, is keeping me from you. I swear it."

"Ditto," Buffy giggled.

"You have such a beautiful laugh, Buffy," Spike peppered kisses down the line of her jaw. He moaned with desire as he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, "I missed you. You smell so good, Buffy." He pulled his face away from her; afraid he would lose control, and closed his eyes. Suddenly the room was upside down. Spike tried to find the surface, find the air his lungs didn't need, but wanted if only to clear his mind and nostrils of the scent of her, "Your scent," his words were slurred. He was intoxicated by her, and he hadn't taken a drop, "It's making my head spin. You smell like vanilla and roses, Love. Did you know that?"

Buffy caught his lulling head between her hands, "Spike, open your eyes and look at me." When she was sure his vision was clear enough to see her, she asked, "You're hungry, aren't you?" Spike started to deny what his body was clearly telling her was undeniable, "And, don't even think about lying, not that you could, at this point. I know you are. You're practically passed out from hunger. Take some of mine," she smiled at him, "I've got rivers of the good stuff, right here. I couldn't possibly use it all. Take what you need," she tilted her chin to expose the vein.

Spike's eyes were suddenly clear, his voice crisp and precise, "No Love. You don't know what you're asking. If I lost control and took too much," he blinked away the thought, "I couldn't take it if I hurt you again."

Buffy smiled up into his worried face and pouted, "You see, there's that worry again. I can't be the cause of that. You're not taking anything, Spike. I'm giving. There's a difference."

"I want to. The man in me understands what it is you're trying to do. Love. But, Angelus really is a buzz kill here. The demon thinks you're his. His mark is like a big 'No Trespassing,' sign. It's got nothing to do with you," he sighed in defeat, "it's that blasted claim he's got on you."

"There is no claim, Spike."

He was gobsmacked, "Did I hear you right, Slayer?"

"If what you heard was that Angel has no claim on me, whatsoever. Then, yeah, you heard right enough."

"How?"

Buffy's eyes looked at the ceiling, trying to pull the necessary information out of her brain. Once she had it, she looked at Spike again, and with a smile in her voice, said, "Giles tried to tell me once how this claiming thing works. Let's see if I remember. In order for there to be a claim, a vampire has to drink from you, but, then you have to take some of the vampire's blood, too. Is that how it's supposed to work?"

"That's how it works."

Buffy grinned, "Well, then we're okay. Because, even though Angel did drink from me, on a couple of occasions, I never drank from him," she winked at Spike, "I have tasted you however, and may I say, you're really yummy."

Spike threw his head back and laughed, "I love you, Buffy," he sobered quickly, "You're sure?"

She nodded, and tilted her head to the side, "Yes, Spike. I trust you."

He placed a small kiss to her jugular and murmured, "I love you," before letting his fangs descend down into her tender flesh.

And suddenly, in one, bright brilliant flash he knew. He knew how her face looked as she was digging through the sand and debris, trying in vain to reach him. He knew exactly how many tears she'd cried, weeping for someone who was not dead. He knew how many different ways she'd saved him every night, when she closed her eyes to sleep. He knew just how many of her heartbeats he had missed. And he knew that he wasn't going to miss any more, not one, single, solitary beat would go unnoticed. He knew that not one thing about her would escape him. He would know it all. He knew everything. He knew he loved her.

And, by some miracle he had yet to comprehend, he knew she loved him.

He slowly withdrew his fangs, kissed her lips softly, and was lulled to sleep by her slow and steady heartbeat.
 

Chapter 29:

*************

Amidst all the tiny little dots that passed for people crisscrossing his view, Angel saw one that drew his attention like a moth to a flame. He looked over at Holland's self-satisfied grin and asked, "What is Drusilla doing out?"

Holland craned his neck following Angel's gaze through the storm opaque glass, "Oh she's just been out on a little jaunt. Don't worry, she was chaperoned. No hanky-panky. She wasn't even missed. She'll be back, snug as a bug in a rug, before the boy even thinks to miss her. Doesn't do to miss curfew. All that does is make Daddy cross. She doesn't want that," he gave Angel a knowing smile, "And, neither do the people in the Home Office. That's why we've taken steps to ensure that everyone involved here is safe and sound as a pond. Of course, it would just take a quick memo from yours truly, to change that."

"Don't you dare touch one hair on Connor's head you sadistic son of a..."

Holland shook his head in disdain, "Finishing that thought would not be good for Connor. And, it would be a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, now wouldn't it?"
**********************

She heard the rumbling of the thunderstorm. She could see the flash and zip of the lightening as it raced the water down to earth. It was as if the weather had finally gotten the memo about the Apocalypse.

Better late than never.

Outside, the wind and rain could be whipping them all back with Dorothy to Oz or Kansas, or wherever it was she was from. Outside of this small, Spartan apartment, the gates of Hell could be opening and somehow, Buffy couldn't bring herself to care. She was happy here. Folded safely inside arms that, at this moment, did not resemble the muscular ones that once held her, she was safe. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Yes, there it was. She wasn't dreaming. It was all there, just like she remembered it. There was the earth and spice that meant, "Spike" to her. Her brain just couldn't wrap around all the things he must have gone through, to be here, now. She didn't know if it was enough to say, "I'm sorry." She didn't know if that would begin to ease the hurt he had had to endure. But, it was a place to start.

She let silent tears of joy fall as she listened to him breathe in time with her. She knew she was finally home.
**********************

"No," Holland mused, casually tossing the crystal sphere in the air as if it were a baseball, "as I said before, it's not you the Home Office is concerned with." He watched refracted light from the orb dance on the shadows of Angel's face, "You, as I said," he tossed the orb again into the air, eyes tracking it as it landed in his fingers, "have been neutralized for quite some time now. Spike, on the other hand, has not. That's why we needed you in the Circle," Holland paused, taking in Angel's dumbfounded look, "Oh, I am sorry. Did I speak out of turn? Yes, we needed you to believe you were in control so that your natural affinity for, shall we call it self importance," he nodded to himself, pleased with the words he'd chosen, "would do our work for us. Of course, there is always the possibility of enlightenment. Even for someone as dense as you are, there's always a chance that the light will somehow click on. So, we had to develop a 'Plan B.' That's why Drusilla was brought in. She can neutralize the danger, even if, at the last moment, you refuse to."

"How is Spike a danger?" Angel huffed, "He couldn't find his head with both hands. He's a fool."

"Is he?" Holland asked, "Who's the bigger fool, someone who does good without the foreknowledge of a reward? Or, is it someone who does good only because he knows, or thinks he knows, that he will be rewarded with his heart's desire at the end of it all? Is the real fool the one who does good things? Or is it the man who does good things only for his own gain, and for no other purpose?" Holland sighed in contemplation, "Tell me Angel. I really want to know."
***************************

Spike couldn't track Buffy's scent because of the sickeningly sweet smell that permeated the stale air. The air was thick with it. He could smell the heat of her, under that syrupy smell, so he knew she was alive. At least for now, and that was good. That gave him something else to focus on aside from that thick smell that clung to his nostrils, even when he didn't breathe it in. It was heavy, and nauseating. It smelled like molasses.

That smell activated a sense memory he'd rather have forgotten. His brain was telling him to flee, but his heart and his soul urged his feet further into this dark labyrinth. He had to find Buffy, or die trying.

He tried to push past his fear, "Buffy?" he called out to her again. There was still no answer. The place was so dark that even with his keen eyesight, Buffy could have been inches from him and he would not have seen her, "Love, can you hear me?" if Drusilla were close, she might not be able to respond.

He tried to be still and center himself. She was still alive. He knew that. He would sense it if she wasn't. She was here. He just had to dig down, past the fear that threatened to engulf him, and find that place of peace again. Find her. Find home.

He tried another tactic, "Drusilla, I'm here. It's what you wanted, right?" he slowly advanced along the abandoned maze of the factory. He spread his arms wide, in a gesture of supplication, "I'm not going to try and fight you, Dru. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. I'm still a bit wobbly on these sea legs of mine. I haven't taken in nearly enough blood to be any threat to you," Spike knew it was hopeless. Dru was beyond reasoning with, "Dru," he drew in a shaky breath, "let Buffy go and you can have whatever you want."

Drusilla's voice sinsonged out of the darkness, "Do you mean it? Anything I want?"

"Yes, Dru," he begged the darkness, "Anything. Just let me know she's all right."

Before another word could be uttered, the unmistakable scent, the scent that first lured him to this place, filled the air. A scent that he had prized above all others, but that now drove him to his knees in fear and disgust. Slayer's blood had just been spilled. And not just any Slayer's blood, it was Buffy's unique vintage that sliced through the air and straight to his heart.

"Buffy!" Spike screamed in agony as he felt her body go silent in death.
*************************************

The bloodcurdling screams that came from deep in Spike's soul woke Buffy instantly. The agony of them brought Illyria racing to her defense. It would almost have been comical if it weren't so heart wrenching.

She looked into his fevered, sightless eyes, "Spike! Spike, it's all right," she tried to hold him close, to let him feel her warmth, "wake up. It was just a dream. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."

The fog of nightmare lifted, "Buffy?" he asked, unsure of reality.

"Yeah, me," she assured, holding him tighter.

"Oh thank God," he sobbed into her shoulder, gently rocking her, "Buffy, it seemed so real. I thought Drusilla had killed you!"

"Well," Buffy soothed, "guess I'd better get to training if I don't want that to happen, hadn't I?" she pulled back from his embrace a little, "Nothing chases nightmares away like a good old-fashioned knock down, drag out, sparring session. Shall we dance, Sir?"

"No time like the present, Slayer." He thanked God that she didn't dwell on what he'd seen. If she wasn't going to ask, he most certainly was not going to volunteer anything.

But, the memory of that dream would stay with him until he really was dust.


 

Chapter 30:

IN THE INTERREGNUM

The peace of this place had been disturbed by her unruly emotions. There was no reasoning with this child. Even the miracle of transcendence had failed to change her obstinate soul.

The spirit addressed her again, with infinite patience, "But child, it's never been done. Ever. We do not lower ourselves to mingle with..." the voice sounded as if it had been forced to ingest something rancid, "them. Not even for a purpose as laudable as this. The very idea is just distasteful, to us."

She threw up her hands in surrender, "Okay, so thinking outside the box isn't such a good idea here. I get that. Won't happen again, I swear. But, were you looking at that disaster? I know I broke the rules trying to give him a heads up. But, I honestly didn't think he'd join their side!"

"There are no sides, child. There is only a continuum by degrees. You should have been told this when you transcended."

"I was," she sighed, "I thought you'd make an exception in this case."

"He has been given everything he needs. He has made his choice. It cannot be undone," she felt a hand on her shoulder, "We understand your sadness and wish he'd chosen differently. We did have hope for that one."

The wheels were turning inside her head, "But, there is precedent for what I'm asking. You've done it before. I read about it once."

"That is true. It did happen, but never again in all the eons of time. And that was a special dispensation."

"Angel is a special case!" she pleaded, "You saw that. That wasn't a choice! That was desperation. You took everything from him. How did you think he was going to react?"

"It doesn't matter child, it's done. And, it cannot be undone."

"Please," Cordilia cried, "I'd get on my knees if I thought it would help. I know it's only been done once before and it probably will never be done again, but I know the Champion's still under all that hurt. You've got to let me help him find the reason again. Please?"

"What you ask will be extremely harsh. If we allow this, some who would not otherwise, will be unduly injured. The savior of their world might never come to be if we tamper with the forces that are in place now, because of that one's choice. What would you have us tell them, should they ask after the cause of their injuries?"

Cordilia was confused, "But you said the destroyer would be born. That's happened already. Believe me, I remember. Angel stopped Jasmine."

"That is not the destroyer we speak of. The destroyer still lives, as it should be. If one does not exist, then the other cannot come to be. This is how it must be. This is how it is. If you seek to toy with the fabric of the universe, how will you justify such folly? If the child is not, then the world will not."

"Stop talking in riddles! A person could get seasick from all this doubletalk. Has this dark ugly thing happened yet, or hasn't it?

"There is no future or past. Here, there is only the now."

"Great, more riddles. Look, if the cosmos ends up with egg on its face, tell whoever, or whatever's in charge of the whole mess that it was my fault, okay? I'll take the blame. I'm asking you for your help."

The spirit took pity, "Very well. It shall be done.
****************************
PRESENT DAY-LOS ANGELES

"Love," he said warily, "this is a Viper, not a station wagon. Are you sure you can handle having that kind of power under you?"

Buffy gave him a sidelong glance, "It's not like I'm not used to it. I rode this kind of power before," she smirked, "I made it do what I wanted. How is this different?"

Spike hadn't realized until now, just how much he missed her, "This is much different, Love."

"I know," Buffy said, "I was just teasing. Now, drink all that pig's blood. If we're sparring, I don't want you to fold after the first few punches. I have to be on top of my game. Where is this place anyway?"

"It's on Jennings. There shouldn't be much traffic. This weather tends to keep people in. It should be at the next crossroads," he strained to see past the driving rain and the messy smear of the windshield wiper, "There."

Buffy drove past the private property sign, nodded toward it, commenting, "At least Drusilla will need an invitation before she can ambush us here," and parked the car as close to the closed garage door as she could possibly get, and cut the engine.

Just as the engine stopped, the automatic door on the garage floated up to reveal George, sitting near the entrance with a smile on her face.

Buffy got out first, and greeted the petite brunette, "Thanks again for letting us use your place."

George smiled and shook her head, tossing Buffy the key ring, as she said, "It's yours now. Gina's Garage has relocated to greener pastures.

Spike was surprised by this, "You sure, George? That's got to cost you quite a few quid."

George shrugged, "Hey, what can I say? I'm a trust fund baby. What good's millions of dollars if you can't waste it with conspicuous spending on real estate? Look at Donald Trump."

Spike shook his head, "George you shouldn't have."

"Hey, what am I gonna do with it? Besides, it's not a garage anymore," she gave Spike a wide grin, "Well, there is one car in there. The rest of the place has been converted into a dojo. For you to work out in."

"George, when did this happen?"

She shrugged again, "I've been busy these past few months. Spike, you know I only became a mechanic to piss my Dad off," she blushed a little, "I was hoping you'd be back, Spike. I'm an incurable romantic," she winked, "I knew you'd be back. People like us, we're too tough to give up."

Buffy and Spike slowly made their way into the garage.

Spike was really impressed by her attention to detail. There were a few touches that were George's but the rest of the décor came from his own memory. He remembered telling George about Buffy. He spent hours reliving how they had spent hours in the training room of the Magic Box. He told George every detail. Every weapon she used, how she moved, he told George everything.

And God bless her. She listened. She really listened.

In a fit of jubilance Spike spun Georgina's wheelchair around until they were both pleasantly dizzy, "George, you're the hottest thing on four wheels, you know that?"

"Take it easy Spike, or you'll be needing to sit down," she craned her neck back to look at him, "You haven't seen the car yet. After you see her, then we'll talk about which one of us is hotter, okay?"

"All right, Love. Just where is this little trollop?" he teased.

"She's in the next bay," she said, "She's not authentic, I added the necro-tempered glass, but she is as close to the real thing as I could get. So, if something's off, be nice, would you?"

"Always Love."

Buffy watched as Spike slowly limped through the breezeway that connected the two parts of the building, with George following a respectful distance behind him. She could almost feel his excitement as he beheld what was waiting for him.

"Oh, my God. George, where on earth did you find her?" he gasped as if he'd just caught sight of the most beautiful thing in the world. He turned slowly back toward Buffy, his eyes wide with appreciation, "She's perfect, Buffy. Everything about her is just like I remembered."

"Well, she should be," George grinned, "You certainly talked about her enough. Still won't tell me how you lost her. Maybe I could have salvaged her for you," she paused to study the boyish wonder that glowed through his eyes. He always got that look when he'd talk about that car. Or, when he'd talk about Buffy, "Of course, if you'd rather have the Viper, I can have Mike hook this one back onto the tow truck..."

" No! I don't want that sodding car! This is the perfect gift, George, really. As for telling you what actually happened to the original, I couldn't Love. It was too traumatic," a bona fide grin broke out on his face. A grin the likes of which Buffy hadn't seen since Willow's engagement spell. "Thank you, George. So much," he said.

Buffy was curious. Just what was there that could render Spike almost totally gaga in two seconds flat? She took the short walk to the next car bay. Her face almost hurt from the smile that spread across her face. That car held some strangely fond memories for her as well.

There, sitting in the bay, waiting patiently for her driver to slip her on like a faded pair of dungarees, was that giant of a car. Shining, as if it knew its true owner had, at last, returned, was that big, black, DeSoto.
************

Holland sighed, "I mean, really. Who does Spike think he is? He only saved the world twice, single-handed. How many times have you saved it?"

"Once. He saved it once. The other time was all Buffy," Angel grumbled.

"Silly me, I forgot about that scrap with Glory. Really must remember to send a thank you note for his help with that. She was a handful. Now let's think," Holland pinched his chin, "That brings his tally to four then, doesn't it?"

"Your math's a little off there, Holland," Angel sneered.

"No, I think yours is. Remember Fred?"

"Of course I do."

"Good. Then you remember how you were willing to sacrifice thousands of people, just for her. If Spike hadn't talked some sense into you, well, Buffy could have been one of those thousands. You do remember her, don't you? She was the love of your universe. Or have you forgotten that, too?"

"I haven't forgotten."

"Is she still?"
*****************

As Buffy circled around Spike, waiting for the split second when his guard would lower just enough to let her in, she decided to help it along, with a little meaningful chit -chat, "What is this black and white swirl on the floor?" she grazed it lightly with her stocking feet, "It looks like the Nike symbol."

"Nice try, Love," he purred, "but you're not making me give you an opening by looking down. Do you have some sort of shoe fetish that I wasn't aware of? The symbol on the floor is George's way of reminding me, us, that we're connected, you and I."

"That's sweet. But, what is it?"

"That is yin and yang, Love. The Chinese symbol for existence."

Buffy tried for a jab, but Spike easily stepped away, "Huh?"

Spike shook his head in disappointment, "You're not even trying. You were dropping your shoulder. I saw that coming. Existence. Dark and Light; Good and Evil; Man and Woman, take your pick. The point is, in order to have one, you have to take the other."

"Which is the dark half?"

"Hmm, well if the answer doesn't light a fire under you, nothing will. We can't stand here all day tracing circles around each other, Slayer. You have got to commit. Make a move! And, don't hesitate, or Dru will kill you! The woman, at least in Chinese philosophy, represents the dark half. She's cold, too," Spike sneered and ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth. His next comment would bring the fire out, he knew, "Real bitch. I'm sure you know the type."

That did it. Before he knew it he was sailing through the air, landing with a thud on the mat below. He thanked George for her forward thinking, as his head recoiled from the impact, to have them there. Without them, his spine would have snapped in two from her ferocity.

Spike stared up at her with eyes that he hoped didn't convey the fear he was feeling as the tip of her stake whispered against the skin that covered his heart. He saw her feral gaze bore into him as she straddled his hips and he hoped that he would be able to talk her down, before the stake was driven home, "I'll show you what a real bitch looks like!" she screeched.

"Easy, Slayer," he said, in a measured tone. He shifted his face back to its human form, "See, it's me," he panted, "old blue eyes," he could see that she had calmed a little, "Now, please, don't move that trigger finger, or I'm dust."

She came back to herself slowly. Buffy took in Spike's prone form, and his frightened eyes, as she let him up. He stayed on the floor even though she was no longer holding him down, until she had the time to gather her wits about her again. "Spike?" she whimpered, clasping a hand over her mouth in surprise at her own strength. She'd thrown him at least a hundred feet across the room and hadn't even been aware she'd done it until she saw his blue eyes staring back at her.

"Yeah, it's me Love," he said weakly, "That's the kind of fire you're going to need to get the upper hand with Dru. Give me a minute, Love," he said, as he struggled to rise from the floor, "then we'll have another go, yeah?"
*********************

Drusilla knew her boy was helping her. He was getting well and that was good. The sooner he was well again, the sooner she could play. And, the sooner he'd be home again, where he belonged.

 

TBC

Chapter 31:

IN THE INTERREGNUM

In this place there was no future, there was no past, there was just the eternal now.

Holland had to admit he was surprised at this development. In all his time in the Home Office, he'd never heard of this kind of thing. But then, maybe that was why he'd been chosen for this assignment. Joint ventures weren't entirely unheard of in the world of law. Even so, this was a horse of a different color.

The more jaded among them might begin to think that their lives were playthings for the Powers' amusement.

The fact that his assignment was among the most jaded beings in any working dimension made what he would be asked to do all that much easier, and because of their history, just that much more fun.

If this assignment went his way, he would make Regional Director for sure. If not, the satisfaction would be, understandably delayed, but he would still be known as a rainmaker around the Office.

"I must say I'm more than a little surprised by this. A thing like this doesn't come down the pike very often. I'm here to confirm that this is a legitimate request before we commence work," he addressed the spirit with apprehension, "You understand our concern, I'm sure."

"We do. This is a legitimate request. The results through usual avenues have produced mixed results. This one's destiny is still in the balance. So many destinies depend on this one's choices. We need to know if we have made an error in our calculations."

"An error?" Holland checked the file again, and hissed in sympathy, "Yes. He does seem to be all over the map, doesn't he? Still, I thought the bugs had been worked out of the system? Why come to the Home Office with this?"

"If that one continues to be unfocused he could upset the balance even further, throwing this dimension and others, into chaos. That cannot happen. Then of course, there is the other."

Holland nodded, "Yes. They do seem to be on parallel paths at the present," he studied the file closely, "Have been for quite some time, according to this."

"Yes, and until that is resolved, that dimension will remain in a state of flux. The balance must be restored. You see our dilemma. We cannot interfere, yet for the sake of equilibrium, we must do so."

"I can see how that might be a conundrum," Holland agreed, "I will make the arrangements. We'll start right away."
********************

PRESENT DAY- LOS ANGELES

"Close your eyes, Buffy."

"Why?"

"Buffy, for once, don't question. Just do it."

Buffy's eyes lit up, "Now who has the shoe fetish?"

Spike fought the urge to groan, "Slayer, will you please focus?" he slowly approached her from behind, whispering in her ear, "With Drusilla you can't trust your eyes. She'll use your eyes to lie to you. Now, close them."

She closed her eyes and listened. She reached out with her senses to try to find Spike. On the surface she listened for the rustle of his feet against the mats. She felt the wind rush past her as his body moved through the space between them. She knew he was in the room so it couldn't be this easy, there had to be more to this than playing blind man's bluff all day. This just couldn't be what Spike had in mind. "This isn't what you had in mind, is it Spike? Because, even though I think a game of tag could be very... distracting, I don't think it's gonna help with Dru."

There was no answer. Everything was quiet. Buffy was suddenly in freefall. She had no anchor, no compass. Just empty space with nothing to catch her. Where was he? She was panicked. Had he stepped out for a moment and been grabbed? Had Drusilla taken him? She tried again, "Spike?"

Spike could feel her skin vibrating with the fear in her. Could hear the blood rushing at a frantic pace because of it. In the dark of this room he could see the subtle change in her skin. He watched her skin slowly etiolating down from golden to bloodless and he wished he could reach out and hold her. This was torture for him, putting her through this. But, in order to fight Dru, she had to learn to get beyond her senses.

When she called his name out, he had to bite the inside of his cheek, so hard he nearly drew his own blood, in an effort not to respond. He hated doing this. He knew how he would feel if he were suddenly deprived of the comfort her presence gave him. But, it had to be done. He loved her too much not to prepare her in any way he could.

Buffy felt her skin tighten around her eyes as she fought the muscles that would have forced her eyes open. Okay, so this kind of felt like she'd been thrown into the deep end of the ocean, and asked to swim for her life.

But that was the point, wasn't it? This was her life. This fight was sink or swim and Buffy wouldn't have Spike with her in this fight.

Except she would have him with her, he was always with her and that was the point. She suddenly understood the importance of that symbol George had painted on the floor. They would be connected, always. He was her light in the darkness. He had been ever since she'd clawed up from the grave. Even though she couldn't feel his presence, she knew he was there. It had been, and always would be so.

It was as easy as breathing.

She found the safe place beyond the emotions that he had told her was there, but she had never seen before. She waited patiently for him to come to her. She knew he would, because no matter how far away it goes, a heart always returns to its true north. It always comes home.

The warmth of his voice reached out of the darkness to guide her to the light, "Now you're getting it, Slayer. Open your eyes."
*************************

"The rain seems to be stopping," Holland observed, "The sun should be setting soon. All that's left to do is send out the invitations. That is, unless you still want to talk things out. That's something you've always been good at. The talking part, I mean. Not so good with the action part though, are you? Something always seems to fall apart when it comes to that doesn't it?"

"Holland," Angel hissed, "stop being a gnat in my ear, and shut up!"

"No need to throw me out. I was leaving anyway. The lady Drusilla is entrusting me with seeing that her guests are informed of her party," he stopped near the door and turned back, "You do know that you're the guest of honor, don't you? You don't want to miss this play. It's quite a gripper."

"Holland, get out."

"I'm leaving. Remember what I said. Are you going to let Spike slide into your place without a fight?" he shook his head, "I really expected more from a Champion. See you there. Don't be late," he said as he vanished into the time and space of eternity.
*************************************

Just as Buffy and Spike reached the path in front of his apartment, they noticed that no one was standing watch. Buffy checked the time. They must have arrived just as the Scoobies were changing shifts. Buffy looked around for the relief. She spotted Illyria walking swiftly toward her, "She's really lucky this is L.A.," Buffy said, "Normally, blue hair and body armor would get you noticed, if not arrested."

Spike wasn't listening to her. He was too busy looking in the other direction, his eyes following the black limousine that was creeping slowly down the street and stopping right in front of his door. A man in a charcoal grey suit stepped out just as his umbrella unfolded to shield him from the weather. The man walked right up to Buffy and Spike, smiled and said, "The lady Drusilla has asked me to extend an invitation to you, Miss Summers, to be her," he paused, searching for the right words, "guest for dinner," he smiled, "and the theatre tomorrow night. A crucible of sorts," he produced a small business card from his breast pocket and handed it to Buffy. "This is by invitation only," he glanced at Spike, "of course. The gentleman and his associates will be joining us at a later date. Please be at that address tomorrow night at eight, as per you previous arrangement. Don't be late. Oh, and to ensure that you're not, a car will be by to pick you up at 7:30." He smiled again as he ducked his head back into the limousine and it slowly drove off.

Buffy handed the card to Spike and almost immediately wished she hadn't. The minute he read the address on the card, his hands began shaking and he begged her, in a voice as desperate as she'd ever heard before, "Buffy, please don't go."

"What do you mean, 'Don't go'? I promised. We both knew that this was coming. There's no telling what could happen to you if I back out now. Aside from the fact that there's gonna be this big black mysterious car coming to pick me up tomorrow, we don't know if the poison's really gone out of your system, or if this is just some kind of remission or something," Buffy touched Spike's face and realized that the shaking was not limited to his hands. His whole body was shaking, "Hey," she nodded to Illyria, "let's get you inside," she tried to put him at ease a little, "What happened to the 'Jedi Master' thing you had going there? Really looked good on you."

"Yeah well, 'Jedi Master' wised up a bit and left 'Frightened-To-Hell- Will' in his stead."
*****************************

The abandoned factory smelled of sweets and spirits. It was just perfect for what Drusilla had in mind. The Slayer would walk right into her trap because she thought she loved William. William would follow, because a boy always returns to his true north. He always returns to where his heart is. A boy's heart is, and forever would be, with his mother. William would see that the Slayer didn't love him, not when he was well again. She had proof of that. The Slayer didn't love her Daddy once he'd rid himself of the sickness he'd carried with him.

When Angelus wasn't maimed by the soul the gypsies put in his chest, like a cancer, the Slayer didn't love him. But she did. She loved them both and she wanted them both whole and well again.

They would see that she loved them. And she would see who loved her.
***************************

"Slayer, we can take the car. I don't need to sleep, and with the necro-tempered glass, I can drive around the clock," he was begging her, "Please Slayer, let's just go. Let's just leave. Please. I can't bear to lose you."

This was a side of Spike she hadn't seen. She wondered for a moment if he really had gone mad. Then she remembered what she felt like when Glory was going after Dawn with single-eyed, dogged determination. Buffy had fled out of her love for her sister. Everyone had thought she'd gone crazy, but to her it was the only thing that made any kind of sense at the time. It seemed to be her only way out and she loved her sister too much to see her hurt. If protecting her meant running away, then so be it.

"Spike, is there something about the address that," she bit her lip, "scared you?"

Tears slowly made their way down his cheeks, "Yes!" he snapped. He took a shuddering breath and started again, "I was in that factory once before. I don't want to be there again. The smell of it...even if I wasn't concerned for you, the smell alone might drive away my rational thinking ability."

"Why? Spike, what happened to you there?"

"Slayer, I was crippled there. Dana...she," Spike swallowed hard, "It wasn't her fault. She thought I was someone else, someone who'd hurt her. Slayer, she cut off my hands in that factory. I can't go in there. I can't protect you there."

She closed her eyes in empathy, "My God," Buffy gasped, gliding her hands gently down his arms, "I understand. But this is my fight. And, I'm not going in there alone," she touched her hand to her heart, "You'll be with me. Right here. Now, we just have until tomorrow night, and I don't want my thoughts of you, as I fight the fight of my life and yours," she kissed him lightly, "to be all about that worry face. Spike, will you hold me, please?"
****************

The black car showed, precisely at 7:30 the next night. Holland gave a wry smile as he watched the two lovers embrace, saying their goodbyes.

"Don't worry Spike. You'll be seeing her again soon," he looked at his watch. "In twenty-four hours as a matter of fact," he took in the worried glances that passed between them, " I'll take you to her myself. The two ladies just need time to chat. You can give them that, can't you?"

Buffy hugged Spike tightly, not wanting to let go. His grip was surprisingly strong, "Don't worry, Spike. I'm a big Slayer," he brushed her lips lightly with his. She thought she tasted salt in that kiss. She wasn't sure if the tears were her own, or if they were his, "You'll be with me," she touched her heart, "Right here."

Buffy gave Spike a little smile as she entered the car.

Before the door closed, Holland looked up and smiled at Spike, "You know, Angelus will be given the same offer you will be. Did you know that there are some Higher Ups that are placing odds on you, Spike? I will be very curious to see how it all turns out. See you tomorrow night." He closed the door and the car slowly slid away into the night.
****************

Buffy addressed the blackness, "Well Dru, no more hiding. I know you're here, you want to talk, and I'm ready for you. I had a good teacher. You want to fight? I can handle that too."

"Oh, Slayer," Drusilla laughed, "This was never about you."

Just then Buffy felt a pain in her skull and her vision went fuzzy and then faded to blackness.

"I want to play," Drusilla sneered, "And you are going to pay for hurting my William."
*******************************************

 

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