Part 46

Phone Call


Spike stirred in the bed, stretching lazily like a big cat. His hand fell on the empty spot next to him and he froze. For a second, he was afraid to open his eyes, afraid to find that it was all just a dream. The events of the last few days, to the exception of being shot maybe, certainly seemed too good to be true. The Slayer back in his bed. Not only that, but the Slayer in love with him. Not just the Slayer. His Childe. All too good. If he opened his eyes, he was sure he would find himself back in the crypt. Alone. So he just kept them tightly shut, trying to hang on to the good memories for just a little longer.

Then he heard it. Water. A shower. Someone humming. His eyes snapped
open, and though the room was only dimly lit, he could see the sky above
him. Their sky. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he pulled himself out
of the tangled sheets. Following the light humming, he walked quietly to
the half open door that connected directly to the bathroom. Still silent,
he drew the curtain just a little and climbed in the tub behind Buffy,
his arms wrapping around her soapy waist, his face nuzzling the back of
her neck. She gave a little start at first, then relaxed in his embrace,
leaning back against him. He let the hot water run over them both. The
feel of her skin, warmed by the shower, slowly erased that awful feeling
that it had all been just a dream.

He was quite content just as they were, but soon it became clear she
had other ideas in mind. She started slightly wiggling against him, awakening
his desire yet again.

“Insatiable,” he whispered as he licked her earlobe.

She twisted in his arms until she was facing him, and soon her mouth
found his. He felt her leg come up, wrap around him, pushing against his
flesh a wetness that wasn’t due to the shower. Her small hand reached down
between their bodies, grasping…

“Buffy! You’re in there? Phone! It’s Giles!”

For a second, they remained immobile and silent, their eyes doing all the talking. Finish what they had only begun or answer what could be an important call? They would have time later for much more. Buffy’s mouth
pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip a little, as her leg glided back down.

“I’ll be out in a minute, Dawnie, just rinsing my hair, ok?”

Spike didn’t hear Dawn’s reply, nor did he have time to realize that Buffy’s hair didn’t need to be rinsed, because as she was talking she knelt in the tub in front of him, and for a little while, his mind couldn’t form a coherent thought.


* * * * *


Trying not to grin too much, Buffy hurried down the steps, wrapped in
her fluffy bathrobe, drying her hair with a towel. She took the phone Dawn
was handing her and leaned against the counter.

“Hi Giles.”

“Hello Buffy. I trust I didn’t wake you?”

‘No, but your timing was kind of lousy.’

“No, I was awake. Anything new?”

There was a slight pause, and in her mind Buffy could picture her Watcher
taking his glasses off and cleaning them pensively. Maybe if she listened
carefully enough she could hear it, she thought, amused.

“Well, yes, I might have found what you are looking for.”

Buffy took a deep unneeded breath. She had been so sure he wasn’t even
searching…

“However,” he continued, “before I tell you what I found, I wish to talk to Spike. Could you arrange for him to be at the Magic Box around 8 tonight?”

She frowned slightly at that, before remembering that Giles had left before she asked Spike to move in.

“Uh, Giles, it won’t be necessary. Spike is here. Now.”

Again, one of these heavy silences that made her slightly nervous.

“Spike is in your house. At 9 in the morning.”

Slight questioning, but mostly resignation.

“Yes Giles. He lives here. With me.”

Despite herself, Buffy found that her voice was almost hesitant. She wasn’t ashamed to admit her relationship with Spike. She just knew that, once again, she was disappointing Giles. He gave out a loud sigh, before mumbling:

“I guess that explains a few things. Could you put him on the phone please?”

A minute later, Spike was taking the phone. He had put on some clothes
after she had left him. Black jeans, black tshirt, some things would never
change. She rested her head on his chest as he talked to Giles, and his
free hand settled on her back, caressing lightly. She listened to the one
sided conversation, wishing she could hear Giles too.

“Watcher.”

She had never realized before how she loved all the nicknames he gave
to everyone. Some of them were certainly insulting, but they were reserved
to people he loved to hate. Poof. Whelp. Come to think of it, he hadn’t
called Xander like that in a while, settling instead on a more neutral,
if not warmer, ‘Harris’. Red and Glinda, the Witches, Demon-girl… esteem
for their powers? Nibblet, Little Bit, pure affection. Slayer and Watcher,
these were titles, used with respect even when his voice was harsh or mocking.

“No I don’t! And the next person who insinuates that will have a close
encounter with my fists. Even if I get a sodding headache from it. Even
if I have to go all the way to bloody England.”

Almost a growl, that threat. He could get angry so fast. She was sure if she looked up she would find gold flakes in his eyes. She could guess what he was denying, and she almost took the phone and tell Giles herself that she wasn’t controlled by her Sire. Instead, she let her hands run against his sides, soothing. Quick to get angry, but also quick to lose the anger.

“I know, Watcher. Same for me. I have to protect her. And I do.”

Imperceptibly, the hand on her back pressed her closer to him. Every
time he said anything about protecting her, part of her wanted to slap
him for even daring to think that she couldn’t take care of herself. Another
part wanted to melt at how safe he made her feel.

“Why I want it out? That’s the most stupid…”

Oh, there they were. The heart of the matter. The chip.

“Heard about the bloody idiots who have been messing up with our Slayer
the past few months? Humans, all three of them. She had to fight them.
I couldn’t do anything. If I had been able to, we might have avoided being
shot. Next time that happens, I want to help.”

She frowned a little, making the silent wish that no other humans would get in their heads to be Sunnydale’s next Big Bads. Demons were so much easier to deal with. Just slay them. No need for the police or lengthy explanations.

“Yes we’ve been shot. Her and me.”

Instinctively, her hand slipped under his tshirt, her fingers softly searching the fading scar on his chest.

“Ever heard of a vamp taken by a bullet? Don’t be daft, Watcher. These
things hurt like hell, but they don’t kill us.”

She winced at the memory of the pain. Hurt like hell, indeed.

A loud and annoyed sigh…

“No I wouldn’t have killed the idiots. I would have knocked them out,
that’s all. I can restrain myself.”

The anger was coming back, contained but present.

“I just know I can. And you know she would stake me if I couldn’t anyway.”

Another thing that would hurt like hell… Just the thought of staking him hurt. The thought of living without him hurt. Without doubt, she would stake him if he started killing again. And then, she would mix her ashes to his.

A long pause. Buffy wondered what Giles was saying. She could discern
his voice, but not the words. Then Spike’s arm on her back moved away as
he turned his back to her. She wondered what was wrong, before realizing
he was looking for a pen and paper on the counter.

“Go ahead.”

She circled his body with her arms as he wrote, a small smile coming
to her lips. So, Giles trusted him too, after all.

“Got it. ‘Will let you know how it turns out.”

Short pause.

“Thank you.”

Another pause.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her. Have a real beer for me, Watcher.”

The phone made a small sound as Spike hung up. He turned in her embrace
until her face was against his chest again, this time both of his hands
rubbing her back.

“Your Watcher found someone who might help me, pet. A human doctor,
who worked for the Council of wankers for a while. ‘Not sure I want to know what he was doing for them. Anyway, old Rupert thinks he’s a decent bloke.”

Buffy raised her face to look at his features. He looked strangely calm,
as if he didn’t dare hope too much. Her hand brushed against the sharp
cheekbones, and he leaned into her touch.

“Do we have to go to London to meet that doctor?” she asked softly.

He had a quiet giggle.

“No luv, we won’t need to go that far. It seems that the guy found a
second career as a plastic surgeon for Hollywood starlets.”

“LA?”

He nodded, a grin touching his lips, and she understood why. All this
search for demons and spells, when the answer was maybe two hours away.
Soon, they would know.

“I want to come.”

In the same movement, they turned to Dawn who was standing in the kitchen’s doorway, arms crossed, a look of pure determination on her face. Buffy wondered for how long she had been standing there.

“When you go to LA, I want to come,” she repeated.

“Dawnie, it’s not a vacation trip. We’ll just stay there long enough to meet the doctor, have him operate Spike if he can, and then we’ll be back home.”

“I can still come,” the teen insisted. “I haven’t been in LA in, like, forever. I don’t know, I could visit dad or something.”

The last part puzzled Buffy immensely. Dawn hadn’t said a word about their father since he hadn’t shown up for Joyce’s funeral, much less expressed
the wish to see him.

She felt Spike chuckle softly against her back, and half turned to look
at his smirking face.

“Come on, Bit,” he said teasingly. “Are you sure it’s your dad you want to see?”

Buffy glanced back at Dawn, who was blushing brightly.

“You realize,” Spike continued, still teasing, “that if you go visit him, you’ll probably have to see the poof too. I thought I heard you swear once that you’d never go anywhere where he was?”

By now, Dawn’s face was crimson, a mix of embarrassment and anger at
being teased. Buffy, still, didn’t understand what Spike was hinting at.
She faced him again, questioning silently.

“Nibblet wants to see Steven,” he said in a conspirator’s tone.

Buffy first frowned, then her eyes widened. Only one word was coming
to her mind. Duh…

“So,” Dawn asked hesitantly, “Can I come?”

Part 47

City of Angels (1)





Buffy stepped into the elevator and pressed the floor button. Forty-five. Long ride. She glanced at Spike, who was leaning against the mirror opposite the door. It was a good thing that the building was mostly deserted, it might have been difficult to explain their lack of reflection if they had had company.

The peroxided blonde looked very tense. She realized that he had started
being a bit stressed after calling the surgeon the day before, and it had
only gotten worse since. During the ride he had joked with her and Dawn,
though Buffy could tell that he was forcing himself. After they had dropped
Dawn at Angel’s hotel, he had barely said two words.

“Does it bother you that much that we’re staying at the Hyperion?” she
asked quietly. “Once Dawn let them know we were coming to LA, I couldn’t
refuse the invitation without being really rude.”

He blinked a few times and looked at her, frowning slightly.

“No, I don’t mind,” he replied, sounding sincere.

Buffy crossed the couple of steps that separated them, and leaned slightly
against him. Immediately, his arms were around her, pulling her closer.

“If it’s not the hotel, what’s wrong? You’ve been all bad moody since
yesterday.”

He rested his forehead against hers and took a few seconds to answer,
all the while looking at her eyes.

“Just a bit nervous, pet,” he whispered at last. “’Tried to get the bloody thing out before, if you remember, and it didn’t work quite well. For a while I was sure it would never come out. And now… I guess I’m afraid to hope too much and then hear that guy say he can’t do it.”

It was the first time he had ever admitted to her being afraid of anything,
and she would have bet it was the first time he ever admitted such a thing
to anyone.

“It will be ok,” she said as reassuringly as she could. “I’m sure everything
will be fine.”

To try and soothe him, she gave him a kiss, just a quick chaste kiss.
However one quick kiss turned into two, quickly not so chaste anymore as
their tongues danced languidly, and before she knew it her fingers were
woven in his hair, while his hands were slipping inside her duster and
under her shirt. Regaining her senses for a second, she pulled away from
his mouth and swatted the adventurous hands.

“There’s probably a camera filming us right now,” she explained, wondering
why she even felt the need to justify herself.

He had a quick laugh and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing the
locks she had mussed.

“We’ve been in front of a camera before, luv. ‘Might even be more fun
if we know it’s there.”

Glaring at the suggestive look he threw her, she retreated against the
side of the elevator, her arms folded beneath her breast.

“You are impossible,” she declared flatly.

“And you love me for it.”

Smirking, he approached her, his hands settling on her hips. His mouth
descended on her neck and nuzzled past the duster and her shirt until his
lips were brushing against the sensitive scars, caressing.

“Spike…”

To her own ears, the protest sounded like begging, and she wasn’t sure
which one she meant anyway. The problem was solved when the elevator bell
rang, signaling that they had reached their floor. Yet before moving away
Spike gave a quick lick to his marks, grinning for all he was worth when
she shivered.

“Coming, pet?” he said in a too innocent voice as he took her hand and
pulled her out of the elevator.

Buffy could only form two thoughts. First, he certainly didn’t look
anxious or tense anymore, which was good. Second, he would pay for that
later, which was even better.


* * * * *


Half an hour later, as he sat with Buffy in front of the surgeon’s desk,
Spike’s nervousness was back, stronger than ever. The clinic, which occupied
the whole floor of the building, was empty save for them. For someone who
had worked for the Watchers Council, Dr. Gruenwald was strangely at ease
around vampires. He had been making small talk since they had arrived,
talking about England, the soccer World Cup that was going on in Japan,
and anything else he thought would interest his prospective patient. Buffy,
he was politely ignoring, and Spike was wondering whether the doctor knew
who and what she was.

At that moment, the man was looking at the large screen on the right
of his desk where different x-rays of Spike’s head were displayed. The
chip was easily visible, a small white echo, seemingly so innocent.

“Yes,” the man said almost gleefully after detailing the images for
long silent minutes. “I can operate that. Tricky surgery, but feasible.”

“Is it dangerous?” Buffy asked quietly.

Gruenwald gave her a quick frown, as if suddenly remembering she was there.

“There are always risks whenever the brain is involved,” he replied
offhandedly. “But I am very good at operating demons. Especially vampires.
My specialty, I would say, though my clients have been somewhat more… alive… since I left London.”

Spike didn’t like the sound of that at all, and a quick glance to Buffy proved that she didn’t fancy the man either. However, the choices were limited, and Spike was ready to almost anything to be free of the damn chip.

“I just have two questions,” he said coldly to the doctor, who had returned
his attention to the x-rays. “When, and how much.”

Gruenwald pivoted back toward them, looking slightly amused.

“On the phone you sounded eager to get rid of the object, so I would
propose tomorrow night. It should take only three or four hours, so you’ll
have plenty of time to return to your… lair… before morning. For the price…”

A small grin, almost wolfish, appeared on the man’s lips and was gone
in a flash.

“What is your price?” Buffy insisted.

“I thought you knew,” he replied slowly. “The Council already paid me for this.”


* * * * *


Buffy almost jumped as the door banged shut behind her. She turned to
Spike, a slight look of reprobation on her face.

“Stop acting like a spoiled brat,” she muttered as she slipped her duster
off. “Tomorrow night you’ll be free of the chip and that’s it.”

“The Council…” he started.

She placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

“The Council is mine to deal with. I already accepted and there’s nothing
to discuss.”

Gold was slowly taking over the blue of his eyes, but she returned his
stare without flinching. She was just as displeased as him by the turn
of events, but as she had stated her decision was made, and in truth it
hadn’t been a difficult one. This seemed to be the only chance for Spike
to ever get rid of the chip, and she knew how much it meant to him. In
comparison to helping him, agreeing to the Watchers’ terms was nothing.

She would owe them one favor, one request for them to make and for her
to fulfill. The penalty to her refusal had been made clear. Either she
accepted the mission when they gave it to her, or they would launch an
all-out attack against her and Spike. Quentin Travers had accepted her
word over the phone, and she had barely been able to repress her anger
and not tell him exactly what she thought of his manners. When they had
met before, when Glory was looking for her Key, the roles had been reversed
and Buffy had taken great pleasure in telling him what to do. She easily
recognized this whole ‘exchange of favors’ as what it was: payback.

The gold finally receded in Spike’s eyes, and he shook his head. He had been ready to cancel the operation as soon as he heard what the Council
wanted to authorize Gruenwald to operate. That had only strengthened Buffy’s
resolve.

“I need to kill something,” he growled, still angry. “I’ll go…”

“No. You’re not going anywhere. You stay here, you rest and you drink
a lot of blood as the doctor said.”

The gold was back, and Buffy crossed her arms in what she hoped was
a display of determination. There really wasn’t much she could do if he
just stormed out. Yet he just stood there, watching her intently. Finally,
she heard him mutter two words.

“Love’s bitch.”

Shaking his head, he passed by her, taking his duster off and throwing
it on the round couch in the middle of the lobby. Her eyes followed him,
noticing the anger that was still there in these clenched fists.

“Spar with me, Slayer?”

“No, you need to rest.”

He was turning back to her, for what she was sure was pleading, when
Angel and Cordelia came out of the kitchen.

“I knew I had heard something,” the vampire said.

Cordelia gave a quick look at both Spike and Buffy, probably noticing
their tension.

“Bad news?” she inquired.

“No,” Buffy replied. “Everything’s fine. Surgery tomorrow night. Spike
is just a bit… impatient.”

He shot her a nasty glare, before turning his attention to Angel with a sly grin.

“Wanna spar, Peaches? I beat you last time, here’s your chance to get
your revenge.”

Angel’s face closed even more if it was possible. He didn’t like at
all the idea of Spike being dechipped, and Buffy had had to remind him
his promise not to interfere in their affairs. Though he hadn’t voiced
it, she thought he was afraid that Spike with no chip would resemble Angel
with no soul. Yet, he had said it himself before, the chip wasn’t a soul.

“I will not fight with you. I heard Buffy say you need to rest.”

Spike looked ready to let out a vicious comment when Dawn and Steven
entered the lobby, both finishing pizza slices.

“I will,” the boy said suddenly.

It was a measure of Spike’s edginess that he didn’t laugh off the offer.
He considered Steven, as if gauging him, a small smile appearing on his
lips. Angel faced Steven, apparently ready to protest, but Spike was faster.

“You want to fight against me? Why?”

“I want to learn to fight like you. You beat him.”

With the last word, Steven made a quick gesture toward Angel, though he didn’t spare him a glance. Spike laughed and rubbed his hands together.

“Spike, this is not a good idea, ” Buffy tried to reason him.

“I agree on that,” Dawn said with a frown.

Neither Spike nor Steven seemed to hear, both still measuring each other.

“Here?” Spike said.

“Basement,” Steven answered just as curtly.

Spike nodded, and they walked to the elevator, ignoring the protests of Angel and Buffy. Dawn joined them, and so did Angel, the vampire muttering
something about children not respecting their parents. Buffy was about to follow when she noticed the hard look Cordelia was giving her. She let the doors of the elevator close without making a move toward it. She had noticed earlier that Cordelia was very cold toward her, and she wanted to understand what was wrong with her.

They stared at each other in silence for a minute, until Buffy got tired
of waiting. She threw her duster on top of Spike’s and took a few steps
toward the ex-cheerleader.

“Go ahead, Cordy. Spill. Why do you look at me like you want to stake me?”

She didn’t look surprised by the accusation, didn’t even try to deny it.

“Do you even realize how much you hurt him?” she asked angrily.

Buffy frowned, surprised by the unexpected answer.

“Hurt who?”

Cordelia looked up, shaking her head slightly.

“Angel! Who else?!”

“I did nothing…” Buffy started.

Cordelia walked until she was right in front of her, hands on her hips,
glaring at her.

“You did nothing?” she snorted. “How about calling him to your death bed? How about making him believe you still love him and then dumping him for someone he hates more than anything? How about when he rushes to help you and comes back bruised and bloodied? He’s back to his brooding self while he should be happy that Connor is back, and that’s all because of you!”

For a few seconds, Buffy could only stare at Cordelia, eyes wide and
mouth open. Finally, she found her voice back and instinctively copied
the other woman’s pose, hands on her waist and chin held high.

“For your information,” she said coldly, “I was dying. I just
wanted to say goodbye. As for loving him, I did, just not enough any more,
like he didn’t love me as he used to. We’ve both changed and we… and that’s
none of your business anyway. If he and Spike can’t be in the same room
two minutes without starting to fight, I don’t see what I can do about
it. And the brooding part, I’m sure I’m not the cause. The way Steven act
with him would make anyone brood.”

Again, icy stares were exchanged, until Buffy saw something in Cordelia’s
eyes that made her anger disappear instantly. Her hands slipped off her
waist and she tilted her head slightly.

“Does he know?” she asked softly.

“Does who know what?” Cordelia replied tartly.

“Does Angel know you love him?”

Shock replaced irritation on the ex-brunette’s face, and it was her turn to gape at Buffy.

“He has no clue,” she finally whispered, blushing slightly. “I was kinda with someone else and I just realized it wasn’t working. Actually, Groo realized it first, and he left.”

Buffy nodded a little, understanding all too well what Cordy was explaining.
She placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and pressed it softly.

“Give him a little time.”

Cordelia gave her a tentative smile.

“Well… You said they can’t be together two minutes without fighting?”

Buffy returned the smile.

“Yep. Shall we go check on them?”


* * * * *


Running a hand through his wet hair, Spike knocked on the door. After
a couple of seconds of silence, an invitation was uttered. He pushed the
door open and leaned against it, noticing how the boy’s expression softened
slightly when he saw him. He was probably expecting someone else.

“Hey kid. How is the shoulder?”

Sitting on his bed, Steven swung his arm, the faintest smile on his lips.

“Just fine,” he replied. “It takes a lot to take me down.”

Spike laughed briefly. It had indeed taken a surprising lot to pin the
teen down. Of course, trying not to hurt him didn’t simplify the matter.
Though Spike had quickly realized that the kid didn’t need favors to hold
his own in a fight. He just needed a little more training, which Spike
had been more than happy to provide. All the while, Angel and Dawn had
been watching and wincing every time a blow landed. Well, at least Dawn
had winced equally for Steven hitting Spike and for the opposite. Angel
was only worried for his kid, which was normal.

“I liked fighting with you,” the boy said. “We’ll have to do it again.”

Spike nodded absently. It wouldn’t happen again if Angel was around.
He had been furious when Spike finally landed a blow hard enough to stun
the boy, and as far as Spike could tell he had been very close to vamping
out. He probably would have jumped on Spike if the cheerleader hadn’t stopped him. Buffy hadn’t been much more pleased, actually, and he was almost sure he’d get a cold shoulder when he joined her in their room.

“I liked it too,” he replied sincerely. “You’re a good fighter. I’m sure you’ll be able to beat the poof some day.”

Steven looked at him quizzically.

“The poof? Do you mean Angelus?”

“Not Angelus, Angel.”

God... Angelus would either turn the kid or torture him to death.

“Everyone says they are two persons,” Steven said slowly, “but how can
that be? If it’s the same body, it’s the same man.”

Spike gave a quick glance to the hall. Angel’s room wasn’t very far, and the last thing he wanted was to be overheard talking about Angelus. He closed the door and watched the kid intently, trying to find a way to explain.

“I know it’s hard to understand,” he said at last, “but they are truly two different men. I have spent a long time with Angelus, I know him more
than I would like to, just as I know more of Angel than I care about knowing.
There’s nothing in common between them. Except the hair.”

The kid half smiled at the last part.

“If you didn’t like him,” he asked thoughtfully, “why did you spend
so much time with him?”

There was an easy answer to that, that Spike had told himself many times.
It was because of Dru. She wouldn’t leave her Daddy, and Spike wouldn’t
leave her, so he was stuck with Angelus. But if he was honest, that wasn’t
all. He shook his head lightly, wishing he hadn’t left his cigarettes in
his duster, and his duster in the lobby.

“It wasn’t that easy. He was my Sire.”

“That means… he made you a vampire?”

Spike nodded, noticing the different emotions that played on Steven’s face.

“So, he’s like your father.”

It was half a question, half a statement.

“You can say that,” Spike confirmed. “Just like you didn’t choose your
parents, I didn’t choose my Sire. And we’re both stuck with him, even if
he’s a big poof who uses too much hair gel for his own good.”

A deep frown creased Steven’s forehead, and for a second his eyes were
unfocused, as if he was seeing something else than the room. Finally his
eyes were back on Spike, and he asked, a bit hesitant:

“What was Darla like?”

Two dozens adjectives instantly came to Spike’s mind, none of them acceptable to tell a kid about his mother.

“That’s a hard question,” he admitted. “I didn’t like her much to tell
the truth. You should ask your father.”

Steven’s expression instantly closed, in a manner strikingly resembling Angel’s.

“Talking about women,” Spike said with a light smirk, “you better keep
your hands off Dawn or I will be kicking your arse for real.”

Horror filled Steven’s face and voice.

“I would never fight with Dawn!” he protested.

Spike stifled a laugh at that reply. Apparently, the kid had a lot to
learn, and not only about fighting. And the vampire certainly wasn’t going
to give him ideas he might experiment on the Nibblet.

“That’s good,” he said as seriously as he could. “I like Dawn very much
and I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, not even you.”

“I like her also,” Steven whispered, eyes suddenly darting to the floor.

“She likes you too.”

The kid was suddenly looking at him again with a delighted smile.

“She does?”

Spike cursed himself silently. He was supposed to scare boys off, not
give them hope.

“Yeah, she does. Don’t tell her I said that though, she’d stake me.”

He glanced at the small clock by the bed. It was late. Time for teens
to sleep and for vampires to try to get a cuddle.

“Good night, kid.”

“Thanks.”

The word was quiet, and it answered probably more than the ‘good night’.
With a wink, Spike got out of the room, closing the door behind him, and
found himself facing his Sire. Angel looked strangely calm, but Spike knew
from experience that look could be deceitful.

“You’ve been here for long?” he asked, not even bothering to ask if
he had heard their conversation.

“A little while.”

Spike nodded, forcing his most irritating smirk to his lips.

“Then you know that you should give him a picture of his mother. Or
at least a drawing if you got rid of the pictures.”

By the sudden flash that went through Angel’s eyes, Spike knew that
he still had said pictures. It was hard to go through centuries without
keeping a few mementos.

“It’s a good kid you have there, Peaches. Of course anyone who can’t
stand you is alright by my book.”

This time, it was pain that crossed the older vampire’s face, and Spike
almost kicked himself for his bad quip. He had obviously pressed on a wound
that was already deep.

“Give him time,” he said more quietly. “He’ll get past it. If I did, anyone can.”

Angel nodded, his gaze settling on the closed door behind which Steven
rested, but he kept quiet.

“’Night, Peaches.”

Spike started striding away toward his room, that was at the end of the long corridor. Before he had taken more than a few steps, Angel spoke, almost too softly for even vampire’s ears.

“Thank you, William.”

And again, there was more behind the words than an answer to the nightly
greeting.

Part 48

City of Angels (2)




Her cheek resting on Spike’s chest, Buffy was tracing light patterns on his alabaster skin. She knew it was time to get out of bed, but she couldn’t make herself pull away from his embrace. It wasn’t like she had something to do, anyway. Dawn was out, shopping with Cordelia and Steven. Cordy had proposed the day before to take her with them, and Dawn had accepted enthusiastically. The only other person in the building was Angel, and she felt a bit awkward around him. Long ago, Spike had told her she and Angel would never be friends, and now she knew he was right. There had been too much between them for either to be really comfortable around the other.

A soft purr escaped Spike’s lips and she grinned, remembering how he had made her purr the night before. In truth, she had been upset when he joined her in bed. He had been told to rest in preparation of the operation, and instead he had been sparing with a kid, of all people. But he had found delightful ways to make her forget her irritation. At the memory, her body suddenly felt like it was burning, and she shifted against him, moving up until her face was next to his. She observed his features, marveling at how peaceful and innocent he looked in his sleep. She had long ago realized that his constant smirk was a barrier to protect his
too-human emotions from prying eyes.

Her gaze traveled down his neck until it met the latest marks she had
left there two nights before. Healed already, they were no more than slightly
puckered scars. She kissed them softly, wondering if they were as sensitive
as hers were. Spike stirred against her, giving her an answer, and she
smiled against his skin. She hadn’t taken from him the past night. The
surgeon had told him to drink a lot of blood, and her drinking from him
would be just the opposite. More than twenty-four hours without biting…
The demon was crying in her, pleading for her to feed, not just from a
blood bag, but from her Sire and lover. The longest she stayed without
sinking her fangs in his flesh, the hardest it was not to give in to the
hunger. She nibbled at the mark with blunt teeth, fighting the game face
that was trying to force its way up.

“Stop torturing yourself and me, Childe. Drink.”

She stilled against him as he murmured the sleepy words. He knew her
so well, too well it seemed sometimes.

“Whatever you take,” he said as she still wasn’t biting, “I can replace
before tonight.”

Buffy felt her control slip as his hand came to her hair, caressing
her locks. She gave in to her bloodlust as well as to his need, and slowly
pushed her fangs into his silky skin. As she took a few shallow sips, he
purred again, and this time she purred with him.

The demon having been satisfied, she returned to her human features
and licked the tiny wounds clean.

“Do you know what today is, luv?”

She tucked her head under his chin, sighing happily as his fingers started
tracing random patterns on her back.

“Hmmm… the day you lose the chip?”

“That too. But today is the one month anniversary of your turning.”

She frowned a little. Surely it hadn’t been that long… It seemed only like yesterday that she had awakened in his arms and fed from him for the
first time. A month..? Yes, a month. Time had gone so fast, so many things
had happened, that she hadn’t even realized.

“Do you still feel alive after your first month?” he asked softly.

She gave a quick kiss to his chest, closing her eyes in contentment.

“More than ever.”

For a few minutes, they rested in silence, simply enjoying the feel
of each other. Then Spike’s voice rose, a quiet whisper.

“Luv… I want to ask you something.”

“Hmmm?”

The fingers caressing her back hesitated for a second before resuming
their regular rhythm.

“That guy is going to mess up with my brain. Hopefully all will go fine…”

She raised her head from his chest and placed her lips on his, silencing
him with a kiss.

“Not hopefully,” she said firmly. “Everything will be fine, period.”

He gave her his warmest, most tender smile as his hand glided up to
her cheek, stroking lightly.

“Just in case it doesn’t go so fine… I don’t want to spend eternity
as a vegetable, luv. If for any reason my brain is damaged too badly, I
want you to dust me.”

Unwanted tears came to Buffy’s eyes. She shook her head and tried to
protest, but only a weak sob passed her lips. He cupped her face gently
between both his hands and covered it with tiny kisses until the tears
were gone.

“Will you do that for me Buffy?”

Still unable to say a word, she nodded, accepting his request while
promising silently not to live a minute longer than him. She couldn’t,
and wouldn’t, live without his love and blood. He rolled over her, his
mouth pressing wet caresses to her skin. Before long, he had made her forget all gloomy thoughts, replacing them by love.


* * * * *


Hesitating, Angel bit his lower lip and frowned, his pencil immobile
on the paper, trying to decide what name to write. The drawing was for
a young man called Steven, and Angel was getting used to the idea. The
baby pictured in his mother’s arms, however, had had another name, for
the few months he had brightened Angel’s life. A few precious months whose
memory Angel cherished, when his son had given him smiles instead of scowls. Sighing, the vampire finished the inscription. Whatever Steven wanted or said, he had once been called Connor, and he was still his son.

Darla & Connor.

He ran a light finger on Darla’s features. In truth, he had rarely seen her smile that tenderly. But he imagined that’s what she would have looked like, had she had the chance to ever know their son and hold him in her arms. Darla as a mother. The idea was almost laughable. She had never shown much of a motherly side, not until she chose her son’s life over her own.

Now that the drawing was finished, Angel had to decide how to give it
to Steven. He finally settled for the easiest way, and simply went to the
kid’s bedroom and laid the paper on his bed. He gave a quick glance around
him. Steven had been living there for more than a week, but the room wore
no traces of being occupied. And that was exactly why Cordy had taken him
shopping, Angel reminded himself as he closed the door behind him.

He frowned briefly in the direction of his guests’ bedroom, his acute hearing picking up noises he would have rather not heard. They were the only persons in the hotel with him at this time, with Cordy out with the kids, Fred and Gunn on vacation, and Lorne gone to try his luck under brighter skies.

Somber, he returned to his office, safely away from his Childe and GrandChilde. They both refused to leave his thoughts however, and before long he was starting another drawing. The lines appeared easily on the paper, without requiring much thinking. He knew both their faces so well, he could have drawn them blindfolded. He had mourned his love for Buffy, and only wished for her to find happiness. If Spike could give it to her, and it didn’t take long to see that he could and did, then good for both of them. Angel knew how deeply Spike could love, and Buffy deserved to be loved like that.

When he was done, he observed the drawing for a long moment, lost in
thoughts and memories, until the phone ringing pulled him out of his daydreaming.

“Angel Investigation,” he said absently.

“Angelus.”

The voice was ice and chilled Angel to his bones.

“Holtz,” he replied just as coldly.

“I want to see you.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to leave. I need to talk to you before that.”

Angel forced his hand open and stared at the broken pieces of the pencil
in his palm.

“Where?”

As the man who had stolen his son gave him the address of his hotel,
Angel wrote it down on a scrap piece of paper. Long after he had hung up
the phone, the vampire was still trying to decide whether he would go to
the rendezvous, and if he did, what he would do when facing Holtz.


* * * * *


The sunset was near, and Buffy and Spike had finally emerged from their
bedroom. Buffy was eating some leftover pizza in the kitchen, while Spike
was pacing in the lobby, slowly sipping his third mug of blood, and shamelessly eavesdropping on Angel and the cheerleader. They were in the poof’s office, but they had been arguing so loudly he had heard all of it. It was good that Steven was in his room, because he probably wouldn’t have liked that conversation.

“Angel,” Cordelia insisted once more, “please think about this. In fact,
don't go there at all.”

“I have to.”

“I know. But don't.”

Puzzled, Spike wondered if these two were together. He would never have
thought so, but their argument sounded almost like a lovers’ quarrel.

“I'm not gonna kill him even though he deserves it.”

Cold that voice, so cold, almost Angelus like.

“Oh, I don't care if you kill him. He stole Connor's childhood, so kill
him. But don't lie to your son. Way to build the trust.”

Fire answering to ice. Spike would never have believed the girl could
talk about death so casually.

“I'm not lying to him.”

“No, you're just asking me to distract him while you go confront the
man he thinks of as his father.”

For a couple of seconds, there was only silence, then Angel spoke again,
quietly this time, and if Spike hadn’t been just behind the door he wouldn’t
have heard him.

“I am his father.”

Not bothering with knocking, Spike pushed the door open. Two angry pairs
of eyes settled on him instantly. He ignored Cordelia and returned Angel’s
stare without wavering.

“Three weeks ago you almost killed your own Childe for a woman,” he
said slowly. “Do you really think you’ll be able to look at that man you
hate and not kill him for your son?”

Spike could see flakes of gold dancing in Angel’s eyes. Without leaving
him time to answer, he continued.

“If you touch one hair from that guy, Steven will know, sooner or later.
And when he does, you will lose him completely. Are you ready for that?”

Angel leaned back in his chair, his head thrown back, eyes closed. The
answer was long to come, but when it did both Spike and Cordelia released
a small sigh.

“No.”

Cordelia gave a grateful smile to Spike, and he replied with a wink.

“Good to hear you haven’t completely lost it,” Spike said with a smirk.
“Want to come with me and the Slayer? I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive
afterward and I’d rather not leave a rented car in her hands.”

“Hey I heard that!”

Buffy strode in the office, pouting, and punched Spike’s shoulder. He
laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her forehead soundly. From the corner of his eye, he noticed two things. The cheerleader was carefully observing Angel’s reaction at the display of affection. And Angel’s reaction was nothing but a faint smile.

“Shall we go then, Childer?” the brunette asked quietly.


* * * * *


Cordelia smiled at the two kids entering the lobby together. They weren’t
yet at the holding hands stage, but she could see it coming pretty fast.
She frowned briefly at the thought. It would come, yes, too fast. Someone
would need to talk to Steven, since he hadn’t had many contacts with members of the opposite sex in the hell dimension he had grown up in. And she certainly wasn’t volunteering for the job. She might be acting as Steven’s step-mother in many ways, she drew the line to conversations about birds and bees. Of course, being in truth his step-mother might have been otherwise rewarding…

“Hey you two,” she said as cheerfully as she could. “Ready for a movie?”

She saw their twin smiles slowly disappear to be replaced by shock as
they looked at her. Cordelia realized that she was glowing, and started
to voice her protest at the impending vision. The images came, all too
clear. A man, dying, two punctures in his neck. A child finding him, anger
and rage burning him to cinders. Holtz and Steven. In a flash, it was gone,
and Cordy could only stare at Steven in front of her, wondering how she
was going to stop the mess this time. Then she noticed that both kids were
frozen, Dawn’s hand half raised toward her, Steven’s eyes wide and unblinking, immobile statues.

She took a step toward them, her hand instinctively coming up to touch Dawn’s.

“Don't be frightened.”

At the quiet words, Cordelia jumped, her heart suddenly beating furiously.
She turned toward the voice, pressing a hand to her chest.

”It's a little late for that!” she said a bit angrily.

The demon smiled at her apologetically, presenting his hands to her
in an appeasing gesture.

“Sorry,” he said gently. “You remember me? I'm...”

“Yeah. Skip,” she interrupted. “You tend to remember your demon guides.
What is going on?”

“It’s time, Cordelia. You've outgrown this dimension. You've become…
a higher being.”

Cordelia felt her knees weaken and she fought to stay upright. She looked
at her guide questioningly, asking with a shaky voice:

“When you say I've… outgrown this level, that sort of implies...”

She didn’t know how to finish. It was just too crazy. She was only a normal girl, with visions and glowy powers, but still mostly normal! She was in love with her best friend, she helped him raise his kid, she couldn’t just…

“You’re moving on to a new one.”

Apparently, she could. Deep down, she knew it was right, she knew there
was so much more she could do. And at the same time, she also knew she
needed just a few more hours. Steven was there in front of her, he hadn’t
seen the man he called father dead yet, she had to do something.

“I just need a little time,” she pleaded. “I just had a vision…”

Skip’s expression was unreadable, his look utterly blank, and it made
her realize that he knew. He knew about the vision, knew what was going
to happen.

“This is the last test, isn't it?” she asked quietly.

He gave her a very gentle smile, and she understood she was right. She
was being asked to choose between a higher purpose and the two people that
she had wished could become her family.

“I ever come face-to-face with those Powers That Be,” she muttered,
“we are going to have a talk, a big talk.”

She turned again toward the still frozen Steven, wishing there was anything
she could do to prevent what was bound to happen soon. Skip’s hand rested
on her shoulder and pressed it lightly.

“You’re doing the right thing,” he said with an almost comforting tone.

“I’m sorry Angel,” she whispered, her eyes still on the vampire’s son.

Then she turned to Skip, and asked, louder: “What do I do?”

“Just say yes.”

She smiled very faintly, a deep feeling of peace settling in her. “I
already have.”

Golden sparkles appeared around her and she started floating up in a
corridor of white light.


* * * * *


Dawn blinked several times, staring at the empty spot where she had
seen Cordelia glow just a second before.

“What happened?” she managed to ask. “Where is Cordy?”

Steven seemed as puzzled as she was, but not frightened by the strange
disappearance.

“She is part demon,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe she can transport
herself to other places?”

Dawn frowned at that. She had heard something about visions, but she
didn’t know Cordy was a demon. Steven obviously knew more than she did.
Come to think of it, he had been acting perfectly normally around Cordelia.
And the day before, when he was sparing with Spike, he had joked and teased the vampire playfully. Apparently, his demon phobia was receding. She smiled at the thought, before remembering that Cordy had disappeared.

“Ok, so what do we do now?” she asked her friend.

“She can take care of herself,” Steven said firmly. “I don’t think we
have to worry for her.”

Dawn nodded, and for a few seconds they were both silent. She couldn’t
make herself meet his eyes, but she knew he was watching her, and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Do you, uh, do you still want to go see a movie?” she asked hesitantly,
forcing herself to look at him at last.

He tilted his head slightly, making her blush even more as she thought
of how cute he was. She had been hoping to be alone with him at last since
she had arrived in LA, she had hoped for something romantic and holding
hands and kissing, but now that they were alone, all she could do was blush
and ask stupid questions.

“I’d like to introduce you to my father,” he said quietly, almost shyly.
“Would you like to meet him?”

A few minutes later, they were walking side by side in the streets of
LA. Dawn knew that she would get in trouble with Buffy and Spike if they
found out she had been out at night, but Steven had promised they would
be back quickly. And she knew she was safe with him, his sparing with Spike
had proved he was an excellent fighter. They made small talk as they went,
comparing life in a hell dimension and on the Hellmouth, finding that they
had more in common that Dawn would have thought. All too soon, they were
at the hotel. Before opening the door, Steven gave her a bright smile,
which she returned somewhat hesitantly. Then they entered the room, and
all smiles disappeared.

Kneeling on the floor was a woman. On her lap was resting a man’s head.
A dead man’s head. Steven approached the corpse and fell to his knees next
to him, his fingers hovering next to the two punctures at his neck, but
he didn’t touch them. Still at the door, Dawn pressed a hand to her mouth
to stifle a cry. She forced her eyes away from the dead and looked at Steven.
She wished she knew what to tell him. She remembered all too well losing
her mother, and waiting for someone, anyone, to tell her something that
would make her feel better. The words had never come.

Steven was completely still for a moment, then his head raised toward
the woman. He didn’t say a word, but she answered his silent question.

“Angelus.”

Dawn was as shocked by the name as she was by the quiet growl that rose
from Steven.

“It can’t be him,” she said shakily. “He went out with Spike and Buffy.
They wouldn’t have let him…”

The woman glared at her through tears filled eyes.

“I know what I saw,” she spat. “And I’m lucky I escaped with my life.
The beast has to pay.”

Dawn came closer until she could rest her hand on Steven’s shoulder.
He shuddered at the touch, but did not move away. His eyes were back on
the dead man.

“Before you believe anything,” she said softly, “ask them whether Angel
was with them tonight. Just to make sure.”

“Don’t listen to that girl,” the woman said urgently. “You have to avenge
your father. You can’t let the monster walk unpunished.”

For all her hate for Angel, Dawn couldn’t believe he would have killed
a human. Angelus would have, with no doubt, and Angel had come close to
killing Spike, but he didn’t hurt humans, just like her sister didn’t,
because they had souls. Even without that certainty, she had seen the three
vampires leave the Hyperion together, and she knew that Buffy would have
staked Angel rather than letting him kill a human. She didn’t know why
the woman insisted that Angel was the murderer, but Dawn was convinced
she was lying, or mistaken.

After what seemed like an eternity, Steven gathered the dead man in
his arms and stood. He gave a last look to the woman, before settling on
Dawn eyes so cold and dead that she shivered.

“Steven?..” she questioned hesitantly.

“If he did it, he will die. If they knew, they will die too.”

With these words, he walked past her, carrying the man out. She followed
him back to the Hyperion, surprised that no one was paying any attention
to them or calling the police. Again, she wished she could reach out to
him, but he didn’t seem to hear when she tried to talk to him. Her only
hope was that the three vampires would return soon and be able to convince
Steven that Angel wasn’t responsible. Assuming that he wasn’t, of course.

Part 49

Welcome to Sunnydale




Speeding on the highway, Spike gave a quick glance to the rearview mirror.
Dawn was asleep in the backseat, draped in Buffy’s duster. Buffy was in
dreamland too, her cheek resting against his shoulder, and covered by his
duster. When Dawn had complained earlier about the night being chilly,
Buffy hadn’t hesitated a split second before wiggling out of the leather
and handing it to the teen. A few minutes later however, she had whined
about feeling the cold, which of course was a blatant lie, until Spike
gave up and let her have his most prized possession.

They had a couple more hours before sunrise, but they would be back
to Sunnyhell long before that. Goodbyes had taken longer than he anticipated. Or rather, the burial had. That had been a weird thing, really. Three vampires, a teen made of mystical energy and another who was at least part demon, paying their last respects to a man who, so Spike had been told, hated anything non-human with passion. Almost comical, really. Far less funny had been the discovery of the dead man, across the lobby floor, when Spike, his Sire and his Childe had returned from the clinic the night before.


* * * * *


Unable to wipe the grin off his face, Spike followed Angel and Buffy
inside the Hyperion. They both stopped right after the door however, and
he had to push them gently to be able to close the door behind him. And
then he saw them. The dead man on the floor, telltale punctures on his
neck. Steven standing right by him, a stake in each hand. Dawn crouched
on the round sofa, her knees drawn against her chest, her arms around her
legs. His grin disappeared at the look of fear on her face. His first instinct
was to go to her and make sure she was ok, but Buffy beat him to it. Angel
was completely immobile, his gaze alternating between the dead man and
his son.

Spike noticed that the kid was looking not at Angel but at him. In
his eyes glowed rage and grief, but surprisingly the rest of him was perfectly
still, composed, though poised for attack. When their eyes met, he asked
Spike in a too cool voice:

“Did Angelus leave your side tonight?”

Angel flinched visibly at the name, and Spike understood suddenly
who the dead man was. The kidnapper. The man who had taught Steven to hate Angel and all demons. The man Angel had almost gone to see. Almost.

“He was with me and Buffy the whole time,” Spike answered truthfully,
hoping his word would be good enough for the obviously shaken kid.

Steven looked at Buffy, who nodded, frowning.

“We went straight from here to the clinic,” she confirmed. “And then
back here directly. Your father was within my sight all…”

“My father was murdered!” Steven interrupted her with a growl.

Again, Angel flinched at his son’s words. When he spoke, his voice
was very quiet, laced with a pain so well hidden Spike doubted anyone but
him could recognize it.

“I am sorry you lost someone you cared for so much,” he said slowly.

“She said you killed him!” Steven accused angrily.

He gave a quick glance at Spike then at Buffy, before shaking his
head and adding very low:

“All demons. ‘Could be lying. Why should I believe you?”

“Because we’re not lying,” Spike muttered, lighting a cigarette.

“Whoever ‘she’ is, she’s the one who lied to you,” Angel pleaded.
“I hadn’t seen Holtz since… before he took you away.”

The kid gathered both stakes in one hand, pulled a piece of paper
from his jeans pocket, and threw it at Angel’s feet. Before the vampire
had even picked it up, Steven was ready for attack again, one stake firmly
held in each hand. Spike looked over the brunette’s shoulder, reading the
address as he unfolded the crumbled sheet.

“I can explain,” Angel said quickly. “He called me this afternoon.
He wanted to talk to me. But I didn’t go. I called him back, I told him
if he had anything to say, he’d have to say it over the phone because I
didn’t want to see him. He hung up on me. I did not go there, I did not
kill him, you have to believe me.”

“Next you’re going to say if you had done it, you would tell me,”
Steven hissed. “I still don’t see why I should believe you. Any of you.”

Spike was getting annoyed. This should have been one of the best
nights of his unlife, a true rebirth, and instead it was turning into a
bleeding soap opera. Throwing the remaining of his cigarette to the floor,
he stepped on it and walked around Angel to get closer to the body. Steven
tensed as he approached, but Spike feigned not to pay attention to him.
Crouching next to the dead, he examined his neck without actually touching
him. The kid probably wouldn’t like him to, and he thought it was better
not to provoke him, considering he was carrying stakes and knew how to
use them. His quick inspection gave Spike the answer to the problem. Standing up, he shed his duster and pulled the right sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow. Walking back to Angel, he thrust his wrist toward the shocked vampire and demanded:

“Bite.”

Angel’s eyes widened and he took a step back, growling menacingly.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think that’s the moment?”

“For God’s sake Peaches! Can’t you trust me once in your bloody unlife?
Just bite!”

An angry flicker ran through Angel’s eyes as he vamped out. Without
a word, he bit down the proffered wrist and let it go without tasting the
blood that seeped out, returning to his human features instantly. Licking
his own blood as there was no reason to let it go to waste, Spike threw
a quick glance at Buffy, who was staring at him, obviously puzzled and
maybe even displeased. He had to repress a smile at the thought that she
was jealous. He would make it up to her later, but right now he had to
clear the poof of murder charges. Why he cared about what Steven thought
of Angel, though, was the real mystery.

He returned to the body, and lowered himself once again, placing
his wrist just next to the man’s neck. He looked at Steven, who was staring
at the two sets of punctures with wide eyes. Two sets of punctures completely
different from each other. The holes on the man’s neck were far too close
to each other and too thin to have been inflicted by Angel, and by his
look, the kid understood that. Spike held out both hands, palms up, toward
him.

“Proof enough?” he asked quietly.

Steven did not say a word, but he placed the stakes in Spike’s hands.
He turned away from them all and started walking toward the elevator. After
a few steps however he fell to his knees, his whole body shaking as he
sobbed. Dawn rose from the couch and went to him. She knelt in front of
him and hugged him awkwardly. Angel was there a second later, kneeling
behind him and resting his large hands on the boy’s trembling shoulders.

Watching them warily, Spike let the two stakes on the floor and fished
out another cigarette from his back pocket. However before he could light
it Buffy was by his side, plucking it from his lips, replacing it by a
soft kiss.


* * * * *


At the memory, Spike’s hand instinctively rose to his lips, touching
where her mouth had rested. He could be with her for centuries, he didn’t
think he would ever get used to the feel of her lips on his. So soft even
when they were bruising. So passionate even when the kiss was chaste. Always so intense it felt like an electricity shock.

He briefly turned his face toward her, allowing his fingers to thread
through her hair for an instant. She smiled in her sleep at the touch,
and instinctively he smiled back. Her smile had been what he was looking
at while the surgeon was having a close look at his brain, since he hadn’t
judged necessary to put the vampire under general anesthesia. She had been standing behind a glass wall, the poof next to her, and for the whole operation her eyes had not left him, her smile had not wavered, though he could tell she had to force herself. He had admitted to her his nervousness, and she had supported him the only way she could, with the quiet reassurance that she loved him, trusted him, and knew he would be ok. All of this in the curve of her lips.


* * * * *


Gruenwald took a last few stitches before indicating to the two other
vampires that they could enter the room. Gingerly, Spike sat up, touching
delicately his scalp were it had been cut and sewn back.

“Everything went just fine,” the surgeon said cheerfully, “just like
I told you.”

Buffy was by his side now, and she took Spike’s hand carefully.

“How do you feel?” she asked softly.

“Peachy, luv. No dusting for me quite yet.”

He winked at her, noticing the quiet sigh she let out. He turned
to Gruenwald, who was getting rid of his gloves and mask.

“Can I see it?” Spike asked.

Grinning like a child on Christmas morning, the man carefully grabbed
the chip from a tray with thin pliers and presented it to Spike. Such a
small thing, the vampire reflected, that had caused him so much pain. Not
even half an inch long, half that in width, the perfect creation of demented
scientists.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the surgeon said, almost with awe.

“Not quite,” Spike muttered.

In a quick movement, he grabbed the offending object between his
thumb and index, and, ignoring Gruenwald’s protest, he crushed until it
was broken in several pieces. Not wanting to give the Council of wankers
even that to study, he stuffed the remains of his electronic leash into
his pocket and jumped to his feet. Shifting to game face, he turned to
the man who had just freed him from the Initiative for good and gave him
a very toothy grin.

“Tell me a thing, doc,” he said as he approached the man, who was
backing away. “You’re completely human, right?”

The man only stuttered, and Spike took that as a yes.

“Spike,” came the Slayer’s warning voice behind him. “You changed
your mind about needing a dusting?”

“Just have to make sure, luv,” he replied without ceasing to stare
at the surgeon, running his tongue on his lips.

He struck with all the rapidity he was capable of, if not all the force, and brought his booted foot down on the doctor’s toes. The man cried as much in surprise as in pain, and Spike let out a relieved laugh, changing back to his human face thoughtlessly. He turned to Buffy and the poof and came back toward them. Buffy was trying to give him a dirty look, arms crossed below her breast and frown creasing her forehead, but he could tell she was amused. Angel seemed quite surprisingly almost ready to laugh. Almost, but of course being the poof he was, he contented himself with smiling.


* * * * *





A satisfied smirk came to the vampire’s lips as he replayed that glorious
moment where he had hurt a human for the first time in what seemed like
forever without being instantly punished. The feeling of power and freedom
had been exhilarating. For a short second, the idea had crossed his mind
to go out and hunt, a real hunt, a vampire choosing, stalking, biting and
killing a human. The thought had been discarded as fast as it had come.
Why would he risk all he now had? How satisfying could that hunt be if
it meant losing his Slayer? He had known he would be able to control himself.
He hadn’t thought it would be so easy. What the chip had done, his love
for Buffy did even better, in far more pleasurable ways.

As if hearing the warm thoughts he was having about her, the Slayer
stirred against him, waking up slowly.

“Hey there Big Bad,” she mumbled sleepily.

He wrapped an arm around her, driving with just one hand with practiced ease.

“Hey there to you, my Slayer.”

Rubbing her cheek against him, she repeated with a purr:

“Your Slayer. My Big Bad.”

“All yours.”


* * * * *


“It’s yours.”

Spike accepted the rolled sheet of paper Angel was handing him and
carefully untied the ribbon that held it closed. Buffy leaned against him,
looking intently as he unrolled the heavy paper. He heard her sharp intake
of breath when the drawing was revealed.

“Just a small thank you gift,” Angel said quietly. “For convincing
me not to meet Holtz. And helping out with Steven.”

Spike simply nodded, unable to form a word. He had known for a long
time that his Sire had a true talent for drawing. Long ago, he had sometimes
been the designated subject of his practice, as were Dru and Darla. Once,
he had stolen a portrait of his Princess, and Angelus had beaten him to
a bloody pulp when he had found out. Carefully tucked inside his duster’s
pocket, he had the small drawing of Buffy she had let him have after Angel
had returned to LA. But to be offered by Angel himself a drawing of his
Slayer in his arms simply meant a bloody lot to Spike. More than he would
ever have admitted.

Incapable of meeting Angel’s eyes, Spike rolled the paper again and
looked over to where Dawn and Steven were talking. They had come back to
the Hyperion after burying the dead man. Steven was still somber, but he
was a strong kid, and he would be ok. He had accepted that Angel was not
responsible for his other father’s death, and Spike was sure that, given
time to get to know him, he would come to like Angel.

“Nibblet,” he called, “time to get on the road.”

He saw her place a quick kiss to the boy’s cheek before they both
approached. Steven extended a hesitant hand to Spike.

“I’ll see you again?”

Shaking the offered hand, Spike smirked at the boy.

“Sure. If the old man drives you crazy, come visit us. I’m sure Dawn
will enjoy that.”

The blushing teenager gave a vicious quick to his leg, which made
him howl in surprise while her sister laughed.

“Women,” he grumbled quietly.


* * * * *


“’Think they will be ok?”

Buffy’s quiet words brought his attention back to her.

“Who pet?”

“Steven and Angel. I was thinking, if Cordelia doesn’t come back, they’ll
have no one to smooth the hard angles between them. “

That had been the other surprise of the previous night. The cheerleader
had disappeared, without warning or explanation. Angel had been quite worried about her vanishing act.

“They’ll survive,” Spike said with a shrug. “Angel wouldn’t touch one
hair from the boy’s head, and Steven has no one but him now. They’ll learn
to live with each other.”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right.”

She sat up in her seat, abandoning his shoulder as a pillow, and stretched
with a loud yawn.

“I wonder…” she started, and stopped abruptly.

“Wonder what, luv?”

She glanced at him, slightly hesitating.

“I wonder what the Council will ask from me. And when.”

His grip on the wheel tightened, and for a couple of seconds he fancied
himself going to England, hunting down the bloody wankers, until the Council
was no more than a memory. Shaking the thought away, he asked:

“What did Rupert say about it?”

“He was really surprised. And he apologized for not being more discreet
while he was looking for a way to get the chip out. He said he’d try to
get to know what they’ll ask from me beforehand, so that I can be ready.”

“So that we can be ready luv,” he corrected. “Think I’d let you
play their game alone?”

She returned her cheek to his shoulder, rubbing against him lightly.
They rode a few miles in silence, and at last they came in sight of their
town.

“Uh, Spike, look out there’s a …”

The loud noise of wood against metal woke Dawn in a jump, and she looked
all around as if expecting the car to be under attack.

“… Sign,” Buffy finished. “Why did you do that?”

“Tradition, luv,” he smirked, looking in his rearview mirror at the
broken welcome sign that was now in the middle of the road.

“We’re home, ladies.”

Epilogue


Fifteen years before, if anyone had told him he would one day, or rather one evening, walk down the aisle with a beautiful bride holding his arm, Spike would have laughed until tears. Then he would have ripped out the clown’s throat.

And yet, there he was.

A half moon was casting a nice light on the altar, enhanced by a dozen tall torches. A few rows of chairs had been installed outside, decorated with ribbons and flowers, all as white as her dress. He could feel the eyes of the guests on them. No, on her. She looked like a princess, straight out from a fairy tale book. His hand covered hers on his arm, and she looked at him, smiling behind her veil. Unneeded breath caught in his throat, and he wondered what he had done to deserve such adoration.

At last they reached the altar, and he carefully lifted the veil from her face, revealing to the world the happiness that illuminated her eyes and smile. He brushed a kiss on her forehead, and left her standing between her bridesmaids and soon to be husband.

Slipping in a chair on the front row, Spike took Buffy’s hand and gave her a tender smile. She squeezed his hand, eyes shining with happy tears. He returned his attention to the ceremony, though he didn’t hear much of the words. As his eyes rested on the bride, his mind was going through all the memories he had of Dawn. The farthest one, created by the damn monks but still so real, was a glimpse of her behind her mother when he had fought against Buffy, the very first time. It was neither the most pleasant one, nor the worst. The worst memory involving her was still painful years after the fact. Tears streaming down her face as he was thrown off Glory’s tower, unable to keep his promise to protect her. The best memory… So many of them, how could he choose? Maybe when she had told him and her sister that Steven had asked her to marry him. Or when she had asked Spike to walk her down the aisle. Her wanker of a father was somewhere among the guests, but she had wanted him for that honor. It had taken all his self-control not to cry like a baby that day.

The ceremony was coming to an end already, the couple exchanging rings.
Spike turned to Buffy, catching her gaze.

“I promise,” he whispered.

A little light twinkled in her eyes, proof that she remembered, and she leaned toward him for a soft kiss.

A couple of hours later, they were dancing to the song. As he held his precious Slayer in his arms, Spike’s gaze wandered around the reception room, gliding on the assorted men and women who had become, over the years, his extended family, because they were her family.

At a nearby table, the poof was grinning stupidly. Angel, turned human again, was sitting next to an angel, literally. Spike wasn’t sure he had gotten all the subtleties of the situation, but he didn’t care. Human or vampire, soul or no soul, Angel was still his Sire. On the dance floor, completely oblivious to the world around them, the wiccas were dancing together. Somewhere out there, Xander and Anya were keeping an eye on their demon twins - figuratively speaking. Giles was present too, with his wife, or maybe fiancée, it wasn’t quite clear, and it didn’t really matter. Dawn was still dancing with her new husband, looking happier than he had ever seen her. Steven had the same stupid grin plastered on his face as his father. Spike remembered thinking, the first time he had met the boy, that he might come to like him. He had been right, and the liking had been mutual, made easier by the two interests they had in common - the poof, and Dawn.

Finally, his attention returned to the petite blonde who was resting her head against his shoulder, smiling softly, eyes closed.

“Pet… I was thinking…”

“Hmmm?”

Her eyes opened lazily and she brought her face close to his, her soft lips brushing on his skin.

“The Nibblet doesn’t need us any more. We’ve trained the new Slayer as well as we could. The Scoobies are all safe and happy. How about we take some time just for us?”

She raised an eyebrow but kept quiet.

“I figured, we could travel a bit. There’s so much I want to show you.”

Her fingers played in his hair, pulling on the soft locks. Bleached blonde again, thankfully. He had lost a bet, a couple of years back. It had taken an awful lot of time, but she had gotten her wish to see his hair with its natural color. He had endured the ordeal in silence, knowing that the more he complained, the more she would tease him about it. In the end, she had been the one to break first, buying the peroxide and dying his hair herself.

“So where are you taking me?” she asked after a while.

He thought about it for a minute. He hadn’t expected her to agree so quickly. He had asked her a couple of times before, but she had always
found excuses to delay. For so long, she had been the last defense standing between the Hellmouth and the world, that she sometimes seemed to think the apocalypse would come as soon as she left. Then again, past events seemed to give her cause. But even now, four years after a new Slayer had been called and taken residence in Sunnyhell, she was still patrolling almost every night. They were still patrolling. The new kid wasn’t supposed to know, of course, but Spike thought she suspected. He wasn’t sure whether she was grateful for the help or mildly annoyed by her over-protective elder.

So now that she had agreed, the big question was where to go. He had seen a lot of the world in his years, but it was different this time around. He wouldn’t be able to go to Prague or dozens of other places without memories of Drusilla resurfacing, but he wanted to create new memories that included his Slayer instead.

“It all began in London,” he murmured in her hair. “We could start there. And we’ll see where we go after that.”

He quivered as her lips caressed the fresh scars on his neck and held her tighter against him as she whispered:

“Anywhere with you, my Sire.”

He chuckled softly, and she grinned at him. It was a kind of joke between
them. He called her Childe when she refused to listen to his opinion, a
reminder that, should he ever decide to do so, he could control her with a word. That was her cue to stop being stubborn for a minute and try to see things from his point of view. It rarely worked, and they usually ended doing whatever she pleased. But when she did change her mind, she called
him Sire, an acknowledgment that he was letting her make her own choices
even if he didn’t agree with her.

He remembered the one night when he had chosen for her and imposed his
decision to her weakened body. He had claimed afterward he would never
regret it, and in truth he hadn’t, not one single time, not one second in almost ten years.

She had said, long ago, that she had forgiven him for turning her. She had even said she considered it a gift. But he had never dared asked since if she had ever regretted being a vampire. She had lost the sun. She had lost the possibility to ever have children. She had to share her body with a demon, always fighting it, always controlling the bloodlust. In return, she had gotten unlife. A chance to be with her friends and sister for a while longer. A chance to be with him…

“Buffy?”

An eyebrow arched gracefully, questioningly. It was so rare for him to call her by her name in public. He usually reserved it to more intimate moments, knowing that so much of him was revealed when he said that simple word.

“Did you ever regret it?”

She didn’t ask what he was talking about, she didn’t need to. She just
watched him for long seconds, until he was sure she would admit that yes,
she had regretted becoming a vampire. And then, slowly, a smile crept up
on her face, the gentlest, most tender smile ever. And she used words he
had said to her long ago.

“Never until I’m ashes,” she whispered. “And neither should you.”



The End