Chapter 33 – A Change

I come awake suddenly, aware that something’s out of place without knowing what it is. I lie, frozen, as I remember where I am, and when I’ve done that, I immediately spot the thing that woke me. I fell asleep curled into a small space beside Spike who was lying on his back looking more dead than alive. I’m still in the same place, but Spike’s arm is no longer lying inert by his side. It’s draped across his body and stroking my arm softly but in a regular rhythm.

Trying not to break contact, I sit up awkwardly. His thumb’s stroking my arm, travelling a short distance before returning to begin again. I tear my eyes away from that to his face. His eyes are still closed, but his eyelids are flickering again.

“Spike?” I ask, moving my other hand to his face, and running my fingertips over it.

The flickering pauses, then begins again in earnest.

“Spike,” I say again. “You wake up right now. Do you hear me?”

The flickering stops again, and my heart sinks. Then, without warning, his eyes begin to open, continuing until I can see the familiar blue clearly, and they stay open. He seems to be having problems focussing at first, so I just make sure my face is right in front of his, and smile hopefully.

“Bss bnt,” he mumbles. I start to laugh. It might not sound much like it, but I recognise that I’ve just been called a ‘bossy bint’. I hear footsteps behind me, heralding the arrival of some staff, but I don’t turn. Instead, I lean down, bringing my lips to his, intending only the slightest touch, but his lips move under mine, and the kiss lasts for slightly longer than I intended. I move away at last when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“If you’ll excuse us,” the doctor from yesterday says, “we’d like to run some tests. It shouldn’t take too long, and then you can come back again.”

I’m about to protest, to tell them I’m not about to let him out of my sight ever again, but he continues to talk.

“You may want to call your friends and let them know what’s happened. And your friend arranged for breakfast to be delivered from the Espresso Pump this morning for you. It arrived a short while ago, and it’s in the waiting room. We weren’t going to waken you but since you’re awake now anyway …”

Breakfast? I glance at my watch, and sure enough, it’s breakfast time. I had no idea I’d managed to sleep all night. And just to make sure there’s no mistake, my stomach rumbles loud enough to be heard by someone in the next room.

“You’ll let me know as soon as you’re finished?” I ask, but I’m not looking at the doctor, only Spike.

“I promise,” he answers. Spike’s smiling at me, not a big grin, just that little smile he has, and I bend down one more time to kiss him, then get off the bed and walk back down the corridor to the waiting room.

Sure enough, there’s a cup of coffee which is still warm, and a bag which, on investigation, contains two doughnuts – one jelly and one with little chocolate bits. There’s a phone in the corner of the room, so I grab the chocolate doughnut, and walk over there, dialling my apartment number.

Wes answers, and I quickly let him know that Spike just came round, and that they’re checking him out. He sounds genuinely pleased, and promises to tell the others. Having done my duty, I take a bite of doughnut and go back to my coffee.

Despite my initial determination to eat only one doughnut, the jelly soon follows the chocolate one into my mouth, and I’m left licking sticky sweetness off my fingers. I take a mouthful of coffee to wash it all down, and as I put the cup down, the doctor’s in front of me again. I jump up, worried by his serious expression.

“How is he? He’s not …”

“He’s fine,” he reassures me. “Everything seems to measure up normally. He’s a bit slow still, sort of sleepy, but there’s no sign of permanent damage. We’ll still need to do a full range of tests once he’s had some rest, but he seems to be ok.”

“Can I …”

“Go back? Of course you can. He’ll be a little groggy for a while, may even sleep a lot, but that’s all it’ll be, I expect, just sleep.”

I exhale slowly, not even aware until I start that I’d been holding my breath. I walk the short distance back to his room, and as soon as I go in, Spike smiles at me, and tries to sit up. Before I can get to him to push him back down, he gives up the attempt, flopping onto his back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demand, hands on hips.

“Was going to sit up, as you no doubt realise, but you and the rest of the room decided to take a turn on the waltzers, so I gave up.”

“Waltzers?” I ask.

“Never mind. You, the room, spinning. Not good.”

“Still spinning?” I ask, watching him.

“Slowing nicely,” he says. “Expect it’ll stop soon.”

“Apart from that, how do you feel?”

“I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with you, and I mean punches in an alleyway, but without the bruises to show for it. Don’t remember much about what happened.”

“Well, you didn’t go ten rounds with me, not this time. What do you remember?”

“I remember Clinton starting to sing for the detuning, and after that, it all gets woolly, kind of vague, but with pain.”

“You’re right, Clinton sang, and the controller sang back, near as I can tell. It was the most awful sound I’ve ever heard, but you couldn’t just hear it, you could feel it. But because the amulet’s part of you, you were tuned to the controller too, and it seemed like you were finding it very painful.”

“Did it work?” he says quietly.

“I think so,” I tell him. “I mean, the controller finally started echoing the same note that Clinton was singing, but we didn’t get the chance to test it, what with you being unconscious and all.”

“Where is it?” I hear reproach in the question, so I react accordingly.

“Still where we left it, I suppose. How should I know? I thought you were dying. I didn’t know what had happened to you, just that you’d been in agony, and that your heart was racing, and I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Oh,” he answers. And I know he’s disappointed. And I’m annoyed that he’s disappointed.

“Look, I’ll ask Clinton later.” I promise, taking a deep breath. “Just don’t worry about it for now. All we need to do is get you well enough to leave here, and then we can find out what’s been happening.”

“Any word on Gina?” he asks.

“No, nothing. But it sounds like Lucy and Wes have found something, some way out of the contract with the Senior Partners. Have to wait to hear the details, but it’s a start. If we’ve got that, then all we’ve got to do is find out more about the source of their power, and we’ve got the beginning of a plan.”

“I’ll be fine in a minute. I just need …”

“To rest. Look, are you hungry? I could try to get you some food?”

“Could manage something,” he admits, and I turn to leave the room but I’m met by a nurse carrying a tray.

“Not Espresso Pump, I’m afraid,” he says as he walks in. “Probably not a good idea to have too much caffeine at the moment, but I’ve got some toast and orange juice. How’s that sound?”

“Disappointing,” Spike says, attempting to sit up again. I’m about to stop him, but he puts up a hand to stop me. This time, he seems to cope better.

“Now, some bacon, eggs, fried bread, maybe a few mushrooms, black pudding, sausages, and baked beans - that’d sound good.”

“Sorry,” the nurse apologises. “Need to keep it simple for now. You concentrate on resting, and you can get out of here soon. Then, it’s between you and your arteries what you eat.”

He leaves the tray beside the bed and walks out of the room.

Spike smiles at that, and I hand him the glass. He drinks it quickly, then hands it back to me. He lifts a piece of toast from the plate, but before he takes a mouthful, says, “See if you can get a refill? Feels like I haven’t had anything to drink in forever. Water if they don’t want me to have more juice.”

I do so, returning a couple of moments later with two glasses, one filled with orange juice and the other with water.

When he’s finished everything, Spike flops back onto his pillows.

“Tired?” I ask.

“Just a tad,” he answers. “Think I’ll close my eyes for a minute. “

He reaches for my hand, pulling it towards the bed. “Don’t go.”

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” I promise.

He nods then, and his eyes close.

We spend the morning like that. Spike dozes, and we chat, and he dozes. But the time between the sleeps gets longer, and by the time someone comes in with lunch, he looks much better.

With lunch finished, (and Spike having eaten his way through two helpings of everything), the doctor returns and proposes a more exhaustive series of tests which he thinks will take a couple of hours.

“And after that, I get to go home?” Spike asks, but his tone of voice is such that he’s not so much asking as telling.

“Well, I’d be happier if you stayed here tonight,” the doctor replies.

“Your tests tell you there’s nothing wrong, then I’m going home. And if there is something, unless you can sort it out fast, I’m still going.”

“Ok,” he admits. “I don’t suppose it’ll do any harm. Lucy’s with you, and she can contact someone if you need help. But only if the tests don’t show a problem.”

It’s obvious that I’m going to be in the way if I stay, so I agree to run home so I can shower and change, and come back later.

As soon as I set foot in the apartment, Willow’s there, demanding details on Spike’s condition. I explain as much as I know, and she listens intently. I pop into the living room to find Wes and Lucy deep in discussion, the pages of my contract with the Senior Partners spread over the floor between them. Lucy seems not to notice me at all, but Wes looks up and smiles.

“Spike’s better?” he asks.

“Seems to be. They want to do some more tests, scans and stuff, and I needed a shower and some clean clothes. I’m going right back, and hopefully, he’ll be coming home later today.”

“I’m glad, Buffy,” he says, sincerely, but I can see a cloud there where he’s wishing we had good news about Gina instead. And I understand that, I really do. He hardly knows Spike, and Gina and the baby are his whole world. I approach him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll get her back, you wait and see,” I promise, and I mean it. I’ll do whatever needs to be done. Partly for Wes and partly for me, but mainly because she didn’t sign on for all this, and the baby certainly didn’t. Wes smiles in reply, a small, tight smile, and places his hand on mine. It almost feels like I’ve taken an oath, but it wouldn’t mean any more if I actually had.

Embarrassed, Wes looks away and buries himself in the papers on his lap. I take that as my cue to smile at Lucy and go to have my shower.

I’m back at the hospital within a couple of hours, and I’m pleased to note that Spike’s back in his room, and he even looks awake. I remembered to pack some clean clothes for him in a bag, and I put that on his lap. He looks inside, and with a grin, pulls out the various items.

“Close the door, Pet,” he asks, pulling off the covers.

I do so, and he quickly dresses. The difference is good to see. No more invalid-Spike in bed looking pale. He’s back to normal, or as close as I can tell, and once he’s finished, I put my arms around him and kiss him thoroughly.

We’re interrupted by a cough behind me, and the familiar doctor and a couple of other Carnolans come in.

“So, doc, what’s it say? I’m back to my usual, fit and athletic self, eh?”

“Er,” the doctor replies, apparently not entirely sure how to react to Spike’s comment. “Not knowing the normal readings for you, it’s hard to tell exactly. But, you certainly come within the normal human range for most things, and you exceed the range on a few tests. So, I’d say you’re good to go. But please, if anything happens, anything at all, get in touch.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card. It’s not a personal one, but one for the hospital itself, or so it seems. He scribbles a name on it – Leon Williams – and hands it to Spike.

“That goes for you too,” he says, turning towards me. “There may be times when your particular abilities will be difficult to explain in other medical facilities. If ever we can help you, we’ll be here.”

I thank him, shaking his hand warmly. I’m so relieved to be leaving here. I don’t like hospitals, never have, and getting out of this one with an intact Spike is just the best possible outcome.

We get back to find that Wes has gone out. Spike’s obviously tired by the way he flops onto the sofa. I go and dump our things in the bedroom, and then return to the living room.

“So, what happened with Wes?” I ask, looking at each of the women in turn.

“We’d pretty much finished,” Lucy starts. “We’re as sure as we can be that we can turn your contract with the Senior Partners against them. We can talk about the details later, once we’ve agreed on a course of action.”

“Wes seemed … agitated,” Willow adds. “You know, after you visited, and being all happy about Spike coming home, it seemed to upset him. Not that he wasn’t happy about Spike, it’s just that …”

“It made him feel bad about Gina,” I finish, and Willow nods.

“I guess. Anyway, once Lucy and he had done as much as they could, he just picked up his jacket and said he was going out. He didn’t answer when I asked where he was going.”

“He didn’t give you any idea at all?” I demand.

“No, I just thought he needed some time alone.”

I go to the phone and dial his cell phone, but it’s been switched off. Then I dial his apartment number, but there’s no reply.

“How long ago did he leave?” I ask, still listening to phone ringing.

“Half an hour,” Willow supplies. Some of my worry seems to be rubbing off on her. “Why? What do you think he’s doing?”

“I don’t know. He might just have gone out to get drunk, and it doesn’t seem like he’s gone home, but …”

“But you think it’s more than that.”

“I’m just worried he’s gone looking for trouble.”

“What sort of trouble?” Willow asks.

“Anything. Just vamps, something to hit, or maybe going to the area where Gina is, just hoping to spot something, or …”

“Or what?”

“Or going back to Wolfram and Hart,” suggests Spike.

“He wouldn’t,” Willow argues.

“Are you sure? I might, for someone I loved. Go and have it out with the Poof at least, see what he knows.”

“This is Wesley we’re talking about. He’s too sensible to go in there armed with nothing more than righteous indignation,” Willow says in a tone which brooks no argument.

“You’re probably right,” I answer. “He’s probably just gone out for a drink, or even just to get some exercise. At least, I hope so. Still, I’d better go and see if he’s around, just in case he’s found some trouble.”

”And how do you expect to find him?” Spike asks.

“I don’t. But if there’s demon trouble around, I’ll probably sense that.”

“I’ll just …” Spike starts to get up.

“You’ll stay where you are,” I answer, placing the palm of my hand on his chest. “I’m not looking for trouble either, and I won’t be long. You need to rest.”

He looks like he’s going to protest, so I lean down towards where he’s sitting, and whisper in his ear.

“I need you to keep your stamina for later.”

Then I kiss him quickly, and get out of the apartment before he decides to do more than leer at me.

It’s still daylight as I emerge from the apartment building. It seems odd to be looking for problems while the sun is still in the sky, but I pause just outside anyway, closing my eyes and just trying to sense if there’s something going on. I can’t feel anything, but there’s something in the back of my mind telling me to turn left, so that’s what I do. As I walk, I’m sending out my Slayer senses as far as I can, alert for any hint of trouble, but at the same time, I’m rifling through my memories of many conversations with both Wes and Gina for a suggestion of where he might have gone in these circumstances.

I reach a major intersection, and instinctively turn left again, moving away from Wes and Gina’s place. There’s a memory tickling at the back of my mind. Some sort of inside joke between Wes and Gina. I remember a comment about the amount of time he’d spent there before he met Gina. I can’t even remember the name of the place, only its rough location and the fact that there was something about the name that seemed oddly appropriate.

Another intersection, and this time I have to think. I know the general area, but I don’t think I’ve ever been there, so I’m not certain which is the best route. Straight ahead, I decide, but soon, I’m going to have to head left again.

About thirty minutes after leaving the house, I know I’m close. This is definitely a step down from where my apartment is. I pass a couple of bars without recognition, turn another corner, and then I see it. It’s called the Stake Out. That’s the name I couldn’t recall. I approach the doorway and try to look inside, but it’s dark in there compared to the still bright sunshine of outside, so I take a step inside.

It takes a moment before I can see anything clearly in the gloom, and when I do, I almost wish I hadn’t. A couple of guys are looking at me – I think it’s appreciatively, but if I didn’t know I could beat their asses, I might feel intimidated by it. At last, I spot him in the corner, his head bent over a drink. He hasn’t seen me, and I consider just leaving. He’s entitled to have a drink if that’s what he wants. I’m just backing out of the doorway, when he seems to move suddenly, and I jump, diving out of the bar as fast as I can. Once I’m across the street and there are enough people around that I’m not too obvious, I turn back to see what’s happening. I spot him easily, coming out of the bar and turning away from both his apartment and mine. Of course, he could just be looking for somewhere different to have a drink, but I decide to follow him anyway.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to be paying much attention to his surroundings, so following him is easy. Within ten minutes, we’re in a warehouse area, and the numbers of people on the street have dropped, making it harder for me to keep out of sight. Of course, that would only be important if he was actually looking.

Still, I hang a bit further back, and, at last, I see him disappear off to the left. I speed up then, and find myself at the mouth of an alleyway. I peek in, but there’s no sign of him. Taking a couple of steps into the late afternoon gloom, I still can’t see him, but I can sense a vampire somewhere. There’s a doorway still banging ahead, and I assume that’s where Wes went. Still, I want to be subtle about this, so I take a look at the building, and spot a fire escape stairway just this side of that door, and I creep up it to an upper floor.

The door there isn’t locked, so I open it and slip inside. I’m on a raised walkway overlooking a huge empty expanse. For a warehouse, it doesn’t seem to be very full. I remain where I am, every sense alert, trying to get a fix on the vamp, and then I spot Wes. He’s moved into the centre of the expanse below, and he pats his pockets in a manner I instantly recognise as checking for weapons, then checks his watch as if waiting for someone.

I freeze, keeping as still as I can, as Angel appears close to Wes. Score one for Spike.

“So, Wes, what can I do for you?” Angel’s voice is clear.

“Maybe it’s more what I can do for you.”

“Look, Wes, I’m sorry how things worked out, but I can’t see how you could help me.”

“Remember when we were first offered Wolfram and Hart?”

“Yeah,” he answers, his eyes narrowing as he tries to understand Wes’ point.

“I do too. Except, now I remember all of it. All of what happened before then. I remember about Connor, about what I did, about how you tried to kill me. I remember what happened to Cordelia. I know that you agreed to take on Wolfram and Hart in order to get a normal life for Connor.”

“You know, Wes, I did what I had to do. I’d do the same again if I had the chance.”

“I understand.”

“You do?”

“Well, not too happy about you trying to kill me, but I do understand.”

“You see, when I got your call, I thought you wanted one of two things. Either you wanted me to tell you how to find your wife, or you wanted to kill me. The first, well, I can’t help with, because I don’t know any more than you do. As for the second, I’d have to try and stop you, but I can see why you’d try.

To you, I’m associated with Wolfram and Hart, and, indirectly at least, they’re responsible for what happened to Gina. Now? I don’t know what you want. Why did you call me if all you wanted to do is discuss history?”

“When you agreed to take over Wolfram and Hart, apart from getting that normal life for your son, what did you want?”

“To make a difference. To take the resources of Wolfram and Hart and use them to fight evil.” Angel sounds very certain, his voice clear.

“And how do you think that’s gone?”

Angel looks closely at Wes, his eyes narrowed again in thought.

“Better than it could have gone, but maybe not as well as I’d hoped.”

“Why?”

“Look, what is this? If I want someone to do an analysis of my life, I’ll go and see a shrink.”

“Just answer the question.”

“I don’t know. After a while, maybe I just got so bogged down on sorting out the obvious things that needed doing, I stopped looking elsewhere.”

“Maybe you listened a bit too closely to Lilah too?”

He bristles at that, but then his shoulders slump.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just had this thing, you know, this belief, that one day, Buffy and I’d be together. The shanshu prophecy seemed like the way that was going to happen, and then Lilah came up with this scheme, and it seemed to follow the prophecy, and I thought, maybe this was it. My last chance. I had a chance once before, …”

“I know, you decided to come to LA, give Buffy a chance of a normal life. It’s an old story.”

“No, after that. Not long after I moved to LA, Buffy was visiting, and I got into a tussle with a Mohra demon. Its blood …”

“Mohra? It has life-giving properties.”

“I ended up with a beating heart, the whole thing.”

I gasp, then realise I might have been heard, so I step further into the shadows. Despite my fear, the conversation continues, so I think I’m safe for now.

“And Buffy knew?”

“Yes. She did then. Now? No.”

“So what happened?”

“What happened? I had the most wonderful few hours of my entire existence. No curse to worry about. Then I realised I was no use to her. I was weak and useless, and I knew if I stayed like that, Buffy would die, and I’d be responsible. So I went to the Oracles, and they agreed to fold back time, to send me back a day so I could do things differently. I was the only person who would remember that day.”

I raise my hand to my eyes, roughly wiping away the tears that are filling them. I don’t love Angel, I haven’t, not really, for a long time, but I’m torn between feeling grief for what he lost that day and fury that, yet again, he was responsible for playing with my memories.

“Oh,” Wes says, softly, but there’s compassion in the tone.

“Long time ago,” Angel continues. “But the memory was more bearable if I thought it was a temporary thing. Lilah? She just told me what I wanted to hear. I know that now, but then? It just seemed … right.”

There’s silence below, both men looking towards the floor.

“But you still haven’t told me why you called.”

“To give you another chance,” Wes replies.

“You mean Spike’s hurt her already? I’ll …”

“Another chance to get back to where we started.”

“I don’t …”

“Look, Buffy loves Spike. And from what I’ve seen, Spike loves her. You’d be better to accept that. What I meant was a chance to get back on track. We’re going after the Senior Partners. We could probably use some help, if you’re interested. If not? We’ll probably be ok without you.”

“Why?”

“It might make the difference, and anyway, I remember how it was in the early days. You … really believed in what you were doing, rescuing the world one person at a time. Now, we’ve got the chance to take a huge step forward. No, we’re not going to wipe out evil, but it could make a hell of a difference.”

“What makes you so sure I’m not going to go back to the Senior Partners and tell them what you’ve said?”

“Well, if you do, then I’m not the judge of character I think I am. And anyway, what have I told you? Nothing they don’t either know or suspect already at some level.”

"What does Buffy say about this?"

"I didn't tell her I was meeting you. But Buffy's a realist. She'll understand."

"You sure?"

"As I can be."

There’s another pause, and I find I’m holding my breath. I let it out slowly, desperate not to make any noise.

“I’m in,” Angel says, his voice firm.

Wes gives him a small, tight smile, and nods.

“I’ll be in touch.”

“Wes,” Angel says, as Wes turns to go.

“I’m sorry about Gina. Really. I suppose, on some level, I resented the happiness you two have. But, I think I know how you feel, you know. And, if I can help, I will.”

Wes turns back to Angel, holding out his right hand. Angel grasps it in his own, and they shake.

“Thanks,” Wes answers, before once again turning to leave.

I step back, further into the shadows to make sure Angel won’t see me, and wait until my senses tell me he’s gone. Then I slip back out of the building, and home.

Wes is already in when I get back, but it seems Willow just told him I needed some air after spending all that time at the hospital. Wes doesn’t say he doesn’t believe it, but he does give me a funny look.

Spike has given up on sitting with the others, and I find him in our room, where he’s trying to make it look like he came to bed a while ago, but I know from Willow that he’s spent a lot of time since I went out pacing. I explain to him what I overheard. Spike’s first reaction is predictable.

“Knew it. Knew he’d go and see the Poof.”

“But he didn’t hit him, didn’t try to beat him up for information or anything. He’s asked him to join us in trying to destroy the Senior Partners.”

“Don’t need his help. We’ll do just fine without him.”

“Maybe,” I agree. “But then there was a time when the Scoobies said the same thing about you, but I insisted I wanted you in. And you ended up saving the world.”

“Does that mean he gets to wear the jewellery this time?” Spike answers, an innocent-looking smile spreading across his face. At least, he thinks it looks innocent. I’ve got another word for it.

The day takes on an eerie personality of its own after that. We sit around listening to Lucy telling us about the Senior Partners like kids at a pyjama party sharing ghost stories. Except these ghosts are real, and we all know just how much damage they can do.

"The original group who left our society and made a deal with the Darkness was small but even then, three of them were the leaders. The others were weak in comparison, and willingly followed the three because of the things they were promised. The split happened a very long time ago, before human history was recorded except by word of mouth, and since our history is now interspersed with that of the humans who have chosen to share their lives, the actual time scale is blurred. Nevertheless, the deal was made, and this group was taken out of this reality, this universe, into another. The reward granted them by the Darkness was twofold. The first of these was that they were granted immortality. That doesn't mean they cannot die, but more that they will not age, in much the same way that vampires do not age. However, they can be killed. Inevitably, squabbles broke out among the three, petty rivalries for the most part, which led to the deaths, eventually, of all the followers. The three who remain, however, were always the real threat, so nothing has really changed. From what we know of them, it is hard to imagine these three working in concert, but it is true that we have no information to suggest that they still vie among themselves for supremacy."

Lucy pauses then, looking at her audience and apparently finding us all paying appropriate attention, so she returns to her tale.

"The second part of the reward they were given was the ability to wield power greater than even they had been able to. However, we believe that this is a double-edged gift, in that the ability to use this power is limited in some way. It is certainly true that they prefer to show their power in short and ugly bursts, aimed at terrifying their minions in this world, and that, added to the benefits available to those who are loyal to them, is enough to ensure obedience. They are able to follow closely the thoughts of those who have sold themselves, although the extent to which it is done will vary according to the perceived risk. To escape such control is very unusual. This power is not limited to the living, since it can, as you have seen, hold one who is dead in every real sense."

I glance at Wes, and see a tiny nod of acknowledgement. Then something occurs to me.

“What about Angel? Are they watching his thoughts like that? Do they know what we’re planning?”

“As I understand the situation with Angel and the others who joined him, no. The idea wasn’t that Angel should be controlled, but rather that he should be corrupted naturally. I would imagine that a creature with the flair for evil inherent in Angelus would be considered a greater prize than merely keeping Angel under their thumb. Does that seem to be correct, Wes?”

Wes is looking thoughtful as she speaks, but nods as soon as she questions him. “I’ve certainly never felt that we were being overtly controlled by the Senior Partners. If I had, I would have attempted to leave long ago. I think you’re probably right, that they were simply hoping that the power available to him would eventually corrupt Angel, soul and all.”

"Thank you, Wes. To continue, these three remaining Carnolan identify themselves with certain characteristics, and indeed, have always done so. One thinks himself especially wily and clever, and in this time takes the name of the Wolf. Another thinks of himself as particularly strong, although I don't think he ever measured his strength in terms of physical muscles but rather in terms of what he can endure, and he uses the name of the Ram. And the third, who thinks himself especially quick, and again, I don't mean that in purely physical terms, uses the name of the Hart. And from there, of course, you get the name of the organisation in this dimension which they run for their own purposes - Wolfram and Hart."

Well, that makes sense, I suppose. So, there are three of them, and they don't live in this dimension. So far, not seeing too many chances of destroying them once and for all. Still there must be more.

"There are attempts described in our history, brave men who tried to defeat the three. Those who tried were destroyed. It is a long time since the last attempt, but the memory of what happened to those brave men lives on in every Carnolan, passed on from father to son and from husband to wife."

She pauses again, shuddering, and I notice her normally pale complexion is almost ashen.

"You know that the Carnolan can communicate telepathically. This is a bond which is at the base of our society. Yet it was this ability that the Senior Partners used to ensure their superiority over the rest of their kind. Before they were involved with the Darkness, they used their abilities with the magic of the Carnolan to destroy many of their own kind. With the extra abilities granted them by the Darkness, they were able to hone that skill to a truly terrifying weapon. Those who were sent to destroy them were killed in the most horrific manner imaginable. Their minds were filled with images which were utterly terrifying, and their bodies with pain that was all but unimaginable. In the last attempt, they made sure there would be no further attacks, by forcing every other Carnolan on the planet to share some part of the agony of those they destroyed. We believe they would have destroyed the whole people at that time had they been able to. This is an example of the limitations of their power. We suspect that being in a separate dimension must limit their power here. They could, of course, come to this dimension to achieve our final demise, but we believe they see that as a foolhardy move since they are more vulnerable among the hordes of humans who populate this planet."

"So you won't risk your own people any more, but why should we have any more luck?" Spike sounds suspicious.

"Simple. Since you are not Carnolan, you will be much less receptive to the control they exert on minds."

"Are you sure about that?"

"We are certain that you will be very much less receptive than any Carnolan, but we cannot be certain that you will feel no effect."

“What about Spike? You say that I should be less receptive than a Carnolan, but Spike’s got the essence of a Carnolan artefact inside him. How is he going to be affected?”

Clinton’s voice sounds in my mind, and apparently, all the others present too.

“I can’t promise that he won’t be more affected than you are, but without being specifically tuned to the original amulet, the effect should be much less than with a Carnolan. However, if you wish, I will see if Willow and I can contrive something to temporarily mute that aspect of his being. Are you agreeable, Willow?”

“Sure,” she says aloud. “Not sure what I’d need to do, but if you can show me …”

There’s silence, both mental and physical for a moment, but by the look of concentration on Willow’s face, I know she’s still hearing something.

“Oh, I see,” she murmurs at last. “No problem.”

"Ok," I say. "So, they shouldn't be able to defeat us just by the power of their minds. What else aren't you telling us?"

"Well, naturally, these are three Carnolans, and their physical strength will be at least that of an average of the species. However, we suspect that as a result of the changes wrought by the Darkness, they may be stronger, and harder to kill than would normally be the case."

"And how do we kill them? I mean, vampires? Easy. Three options. I tend to go for cutting off heads for other demons if I can't think of anything else, but even that's not foolproof."

"Beheading will be adequate, we believe, but, to be safe, perhaps burning the remains?" Lucy's smile is small and possibly rather tolerant-looking.

"Ok, sounds to be within normal parameters. And it sounds like I'm channelling the Initiative here."

Lucy looks confused for a second, then seems to decide to ignore my off topic comment.

"So, how do we get at them? They're in another dimension, but other Carnolans have been sent there before. So, how is it done?"

"For this, you will need magic. I assume, Willow, that you will be able to open a gateway to the dimension if I give you something to home in on?"

"Yeah, sure. I've done that sort of thing a time or two, but it's not something I like to mess with. Never know what'll happen. But surely you could do that? You don't need me."

"True, Clinton would be more than capable of doing that. But it would leave him open to attack if the attempt was spotted. And you, with your power which stems from a different source, will be less likely to be spotted anyway. And you are quite right to be wary of such magics, but I believe the risks in this case to be limited to those we have already discussed. As soon as Buffy and whomever she wishes to assist her are through, the gateway should be closed."

"But if it's closed, how do we get back?" Spike demands.

"Simple," Lucy says. "Since the dimension in which the Senior Partners reside was manufactured for their use, it will cease to exist when they do. You will be dropped right back into the dimension in which it existed, and that is all around us."

"So, once we're in, we don't get out unless we kill the three of them, that it?" Spike almost sounds like he's looking for a fight, but I look at his face and realise it's quite the opposite. He's really looking forward to this.

"Is that a problem?" Lucy asks.

"No, no problem at all. Just like to make sure I know the odds, that's all."

"How about you?" Lucy asks me.

"I've gone into things with apparently less chance of succeeding before now, so I guess I'm ok with it. It's who I am. I just forgot that for a while."

Spike smiles at me as I say that, and I know he's relieved to hear it. I think he's looking forward to what's coming the way he always did look forward to a fight, and he's glad I've still got some of that too. Still, if we're going to try to make something of our life together, maybe we're going to have to find some sort of middle road.

"Can I do the mojo here? To open the portal?" Willow asks.

"It's possible," Lucy answers. "But we had most success when we were close to the source of Wolfram and Hart's power in this dimension."

"And that would be …?"

"The basement of the Wolfram and Hart building, of course."

"Well, that means Angel's got a job, then," Spike mutters, and I can tell he's not entirely happy about that.

"Yes," agrees Wes. If he picked up on Spike's unwelcoming tone he hasn't said anything.

The group dissolves then, as I move closer to Spike to see if I can help with his concerns about Angel, and Willow asks for information on the portal opening. No sooner have I calmed Spike a bit, than Wes joins us.

"Tonight ok?" he asks.

"Don't see any point in waiting, mate," Spike says, and earns a pat on the shoulder from Wes.

"Assuming we can get the portal open, and Spike protected from having his mind invaded, why not?" I agree.

"How are you off for weapons?" Wes asks.

"Not so good these days," I admit. "A lot of the Slayer stash was destroyed with Sunnydale, and what was left was divided up among the new Slayers who wanted something. I've got stakes, but not a lot else. I gave the scythe to Kennedy since she was taking on an active hellmouth. And, well, she sort of expected to have it."

"I've got a reasonable private collection," Wes says. "I keep some of it at home, but there are some pieces which I store elsewhere. I think we should pay that collection a visit and pick out something for each of us."

By the time we're ready to go and do that, Willow's hard at work deciding what she needs to bring about the portal. So that we don't have to leave Lucy alone, we agree to pick up what she needs while we're out, giving Willow some peace to prepare for the magic she's going to have to channel later.

We first go to the magic supplies store. It's bigger than the Magic Box and for the most part full of things which would have had Anya rubbing her hands in glee - worthless but appropriately valuable looking, and therefore profitable. I feel a twinge of sadness as I think about her. For all her, well, idiosyncrasies, she was a very special person. I don't think Xander ever really got over the fact that he got out of Sunnydale and she didn't.

Despite all the trashy stuffy, there is a section which caters to the more experienced practitioner, and Wes takes over the purchase of what is necessary. He may not have Willow's power, but he's got a good background in the theory. While he's doing that, Spike and I wander around checking out the other merchandise.

Once out of there, we get back into Wes' car and drive to a part of the city I've never been in before. It seems to be unnaturally dark and mysterious - more like a Gotham City set for a Batman movie than LA. When he eventually pulls up to the kerb outside a large, gothic looking building, Spike and I share a look of distaste.

"It's not far from here," Wes offers as he climbs out of the car.

"And where exactly is 'here'?" Spike demands.

"Probably best if you don't know too much," Wes counters. "I have some … friends who live around here. Some non-human friends. I was able to help them out a few years ago, and they offered to help me if I needed it. When I married Gina, I decided it wasn't appropriate to keep all my weapons at home any more, and they agreed to store them for me. They're going to be very wary of the Slayer in their midst, and I'm going to have to vouch for you, so try to be friendly. And I've got no idea what they're going to make of Spike."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone had that problem," Spike mutters as we fall in behind Wes.

Round the corner and into a dark alley. Why must it always be alleys? Can't people do business in brightly lit, tree-lined avenues? Deeper into the darkness then down a flight of stairs to a doorway. Wes knocks a strange rhythm on the door, then waits quietly until it opens a crack. Wes motions behind for us to wait, and slips inside. I can hear his voice explaining the situation, and then a scurrying sort of noise, and then silence for a few moments.

"Renshaw demons," Spike whispers to me.

"What?" I ask.

"Renshaw. Don't like humans a great deal, but not in the need for violence sort of way. Don't like many other demon species either, far as I can tell. Don't make good food for a vampire, though, so our paths don't often cross, well, unless you're Angelus in one of his whimsical moods. Pretty harmless. Can sting, but no poison or anything, just a nasty sharp pain. Generally prefer to be left alone."

"And you know this how?"

"Well, don't know, not as such. Just guessing, from the sound, you know? Sounds like wings being flapped in a confined space."

"Wings?"

"Not telling you anything else. Waiting to see the look on your face if they let you see them."

He's grinning at me, and I'm not altogether comfortable with that, but before I have time to do anything about it, the door opens fully, and Wes beckons us in.

"Follow me," he says.

"Where are our … hosts?" I ask.

"They're around, they'd just prefer to stay out of your way. Like I said, they're not too keen on humans, and even less so when it comes to Slayers."

I shrug and follow Wes further into the building, down another flight of steps and down a corridor with closed doors on either side. I hear that same noise again as we move. I called it scurrying, but that's not really it. Certainly, it could be wings flapping but not really getting going, but I'm finding it hard to picture.

There's some further flapping ahead, and Wes stops at one of the doors. I've no idea if he recognised it or someone told him it was the right one, as I can't see anything to distinguish it from all the others. Wes puts a palm up to the door, and I hear the sound of bolts being drawn, then the door opens. We follow him inside to what appears to be a storage room. One wall is covered with wide shelves, and close to another is a cabinet which houses an array of swords the likes of which I've never seen.

Wes opens the cabinet - this time using a rather mundane key - and pulls out one of those inside. It's a sabre, and a wicked looking one at that. He hefts it in his hand a few times before nodding.

"I'll take this one. See if there's anything to suit you there. I'll go and look out some smaller pieces."

“You’re coming?” I ask. Somehow I’d reckoned on Spike, Angel and me. The idea that Wes was coming too just hadn’t occurred to me.

He glares at me for a moment, then answers. “Naturally. I would not expect any of the rest of you to risk yourselves if I wasn’t willing to bear the same risk. And I’ve already told you that I believe that our current plan is the best way of getting Gina back.”

“But …”

“But nothing. I’m coming, and I’m not at all sure you can stop me.”

He turns his back on me to ensure that the conversation is over. I turn to look at Spike who seems singularly impressed by the collection. He lifts a very light looking, needle pointed thing and waves it around a time or two before putting it down and taking a broadsword from its support. He grins as he feels the weight of it. Truthfully, it looks kind of big for him, and if he only had human strength, it probably would be.

"You ok with me taking this one, Love?" he asks.

"Yeah, fine. I like the look of this one anyway."

I pick up another broadsword, but this one is smaller than his - smaller, shorter, and breathtakingly beautiful. The hilt is intricately worked in what looks like silver and gold, and it's the most beautifully balanced sword I've ever held.

We look round to find that Wes has sorted several knives from a box on one of the shelves. He puts them into a bag which is lying in the corner, and suggests we do the same with our chosen weapons. We leave quietly the way we arrived, and the only sign that we're not alone is that same flapping sound in the darkness. Once at the door, Wes turns around and speaks to someone, thanking them for their help. Just before the door closes, I catch a glimpse of something so beautiful I instinctively move towards it. Wes holds up a hand to stop me and I do.

"If she showed herself to you, you should be grateful, but leave it at that. You’ve been granted a significant honour."

"Renshaw?" Spike asks.

"You recognised them?" Wes seems surprised.

"By the sound. Angelus had a thing about them at one time. Not a period I'm happy to remember."

"Ah, I see. You know, of course, that Renshaw is the human name for them?"

"Guessed as much, but never got the chance to chat while Angelus was entertaining a couple of them."

"Their own name for themselves is unpronounceable to us, but it apparently means 'night dancers'."

"Appropriate," Spike agrees. "Nearest thing to fairies you'll find," he informs me. "Probably the basis of all the fairy myths there are. Prefer to keep out of the way, though. So, how'd you get to be so pally with them?” he addresses Wes. “Never knew them to allow humans among them."

"Well, Wolfram and Hart was approached a few years back by some big Hollywood producer. He'd found out about the existence of these demons and thought they'd go down a treat in some film he was making. So, he had a load of them kidnapped. He had some mage or other keeping them under control and he was in the process of 'training' them. He actually came to us because he thought we'd find him a better trainer than he already had. I took responsibility for the case, found a 'trainer' who managed to train them to freedom. I was offered a version of three wishes, although the choice was rather more mundane than in the stories. It just boiled down to being able to ask for three favours. So far, I've only asked one, and that was for use of the storage facilities we visited. I'm honestly not sure they could do anything else for me that'd be useful, but you never know."

We walk back to the car in thoughtful silence, and remain quiet all the way back to my apartment. Once there, Spike is accosted by Willow, and he follows her into the bedroom she’s been using and where, apparently, Clinton is waiting. They emerge about half an hour later, and Spike seems less than happy, but Willow informs me that everything went well.

“What’s up?” I ask, dragging Spike to one side.

He shakes his head. “Just don’t like having people poking around in my head, that’s all. Right now, it feels like there’s this lump of cotton wool in there, keeping me from remembering something important. They tell me it’s just the dampening, and that it’ll go after a day or so, but it’s still bloody irritating.”

I stroke his head at that, then plant a kiss on his lips. “Sorry, can’t make it all better right now. Later maybe?”

“You’d better believe it,” he replies, smiling back.

With that, we join the others, and the remaining time is spent ensuring that we each have everything we need. Wes calls Angel and agrees when and where they should meet, and Lucy prepares a quick meal for everyone.

By eleven thirty we're ready, and we drive to the Wolfram and Hart building, leaving Lucy and Clinton alone in my apartment behind every ward Willow can think to apply. This is it. This is what we've been heading towards for months, or more correctly, years. This is the consequence of Spike using that amulet to close the hellmouth all those years ago. But it's more than that. It's our opportunity to destroy one of the major influences for evil alive in the world today. And that makes it special.

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