This morning could be summed up in one sentence: Slayer skills did not work on computers. Now Buffy was very frustrated and even more suspicious of what Dawn was doing on her computer. Hiding was never a good sign. That, at least, her Slayer senses did know. Everything that Buffy had tried on the computer was met by password requirements or security precautions.

Thoroughly frustrated Buffy thought she had a password for this machine, all right, but sincerely hoped Dawn had not used such language. Time to call in the brain power - Willow.

She was reluctant to bother her friend with what could possibly not even amount to a problem in the end. Hopefully, Dawn was just hiding a new boyfriend. Who could blame the teenager for not wanting to introduce some unsuspecting guy to their unusual, extended family? Not like Dawn could invite him to play poker with Clem at the crypt next Saturday night. On the other hand, a puzzle might help take Willow’s mind off her woes. Making the final decision before she left for work, Buffy called Willow at the lab.

Since this was the first occasion Buffy had asked for her assistance since Xander had talked her back from the dark, Willow was elated to be asked for her help. Not to mention that her curiosity was instantly captured: Dawnie and a secret boyfriend - Wow!

For a change Willow rushed home from the university and upon arriving, she felt lucky to find a note from Dawn letting her know that she was over at her friend Janice’s and not to expect her back for a couple of hours. The challenge of hacking into Dawn’s email was not very hard, but Willow thoroughly enjoyed rediscovering the thrill of such a task.

The pen name, “Carpe Noctorum,” immediately caught her attention since she could not imagine any of Dawn’s high school friends using the Latin form of “Seize the Night.” Of course, this was Sunnydale, and the nights were way more active than the days. After reading the beginning of the first email, she already had her hand on the phone to call Buffy, but something in the tone of the exchange stayed her hand. She read further, finishing the first and then second emails, amazed to find herself fascinated by the contradictions in the vampire revealed through the correspondences. She found herself laughing as she pictured the blueberry from hell, moved by Spike’s insightful and tender comments regarding Tara, and surprising of all, understanding for his feelings of remorse for his actions before he left Sunnydale.

Again, she wavered in calling Buffy. However, her reasons not to call now outweighed reasons to make the call. First, Dawn was obviously thrilled to hear from Spike. Second, he was out of town, wasn’t he? Not coming back. Third, Buffy became very quiet at the mere mention of his name. Only Dawn dared to mention him anymore. Not even Xander made any jabs lately. Her last reason held the most weight. Maybe, just maybe, she had found someone to talk to, discuss her disturbing questions of good and evil, and possibly explain the paradoxes that were keeping her up at night. Maybe Noctorum was very appropriate, after all.

*****

“Pathetic. You have positively pathetic taste in cars,” Spike said to Giles as he slouched in the back of the classic, black cab, annoyingly drumming his fingers on the window.

“No, I certainly do not. All cars have a problem or two over time. Furthermore, I already told you I would pay for this cab.” Stalling, Giles stared out the cab window wondering how to best approach the next subject. “We need to talk anyway before we pick up Anya. We have a slight problem with our agreement.”

The drumming stopped as Spike shifted in his seat to better scowl at Giles. “Watcher, ‘problem’ and ‘agreement’ are NOT two words I want to hear in the same sentence.”

“No, no. I am very satisfied with our agreement so far. You have taken out all the cases provided to date.”

“But?” Spike slowly drew the word out and raised an eye brow adding emphasis.

“Well, the Watchers Council, having found out who my partner is, does not want any of its funds going to a vampire.”

“The Welshers Council, is it now? Do they think I am hunting rogue demons for them out of the goodness of my cold heart?”

Unbeknownst to the pair in the back seat, the cab driver had been listening to the conversation with increasing interest. His eyes had snapped up to the rearview mirror at the mention of the Watcher’s Council, and his pupils changed to vertical slits at the mention of a vampire.

“I am shocked to hear myself say this to you, but, um…I agree with you.” Giles was saying. “They should pay you, but,…you see… they don’t want to pay a vampire. Maybe we can think of…What’s that AWFUL smell?

“Don’t look at me. I was trying to be polite and not accuse you.”

Giles started to search the back seat for the odor’s source until he heard the vamp next to him start growling. He looked up to see Spike’s yellow eyes fixed directly in front on the cab driver’s head. As Giles turned to study the cabby himself, he noticed that the driver’s turban had started to move and a foul smelling smoke emitting from the top.

Having recognized the Priviar Demon, Spike made a lunge for the extra appendage that was unwinding.

Giles, however, made a lunge for the window and fresh air.

“Get you head out of the sodding window and help,” Spike snarled now fully in game face.

“You don’t have to breathe, but I must.” With his eyes starting to tear, Giles tried to secure a hold of what appeared to be a third arm while trying not to inhale. However, the raw sewage smell only got worse.

“It’s a Priviar Demon - not particularly dangerous. Spike tried to explain while he fought. “He has a sodding scent gland on the top of its heads. The more nervous or excited he gets, the more he reeks. Not to mention, a third arm comes in handy in a tussle, like now.”

When Giles finally secured the demon’s flailing appendage, Spike was able to wrap his arms around the demon’s head rest and apply considerable pressure to its neck. Luckily, the demon slowly let off the gas as its vision began to dim. As the cab glided to a halt against a curb, the demon passed out.

Giles took that opportunity let his part of the demon go and jumped out of the car. After a few deep breathes, he asks Spike, “How are we going to get rid of this?”

Feigning shock, the vampire answered, “We? I’m no longer on the payroll. Have fun dumping this pungent git. I’ve touched it for the last time.”

Relieved by the distraction, Giles searched his pocket for his ringing cell phone. “Hello…Yes, Anya, we are going to be a little late. We sort of ran into a Priviar Demon…Yes, the smelly ones…Yes, I told him about the money situation…Oh, quite right. Great idea. Let’s make it a late supper then…What?...Yes, yes. We’ll hurry.” Turning to Spike, “ Bless Anya’s capitalistic instincts. She had a great idea!”

A quarter of an hour later found Giles courteously opening the Watchers main meeting room’s door allowing Spike to shove the semi-conscious demon inside. As Spike held the door closed, looking like he did this every day, Giles casually strolled down the hall to retrieve two hand towels from the powder room Wiping themselves off the best they could, both immensely enjoyed the sound of turmoil from inside the room.

Finally, Spike let a man in a suit step out into the hall. “Take that creature away.”

“No pay, no disposal, mate” Spike quipped back. “The delivery, however, was free of charge as will be all the future ones.”

“What?! We don’t pay a demon to dispose of a demon. It’s unethical!”

“Right then, you must not be ripe enough yet.” Giles again held the door open as Spike unceremoniously propelled the suit back in the room.

The next time the man managed to get out the door, Giles and Spike had to take a step back to avoid the smell. After several gasping breaths, the man managed to choke out, “What’s your terms?”

After later picking up Anya in the newly acquired cab, the trio chose a restaurant with outside seating to enjoy the fresh air.

Giles was debating whether or not it would help to set his jacket on the back of the chair mumbling about the need to invest heavily in air fresheners.

Lifting a finger to check the breeze, Anya made sure she was upwind of them both.

Spike lounged casually. “Maybe I should have asked for higher rates but didn’t want to push my luck seeing how I was standing in the middle of Watcher Central. Gave me the willies. I’ll be having dreams about the smell of that bloke and the council for weeks.”

Glad to have something to think about other than the lingering smell, Giles put on his best Watcher’s face. “Funny that you mention dreams…Last night I had a very realistic one where I was reading a passage of a Watcher’s Journal to a tombstone.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t hit the scotch before bed. Did you know he was a lush?” Spike asked in a stage whisper.

Ignoring the comments completely, Giles continued, addressing himself to Anya. “I recognized the cemetery was the one I found Spike in and the tombstone as the one directly in front of the bench Spike had been sitting. As to the passage I was reading aloud, it was the one I finally found yesterday. Been looking for it since Spike had reminded me of it the night we caught up with the imposters. You know, the one I had assumed was about Angel.”

Spike tried to shrug the whole discussion off. “Watcher, why do you think I care about a stupid poem about Peaches?

However, now Anya was intrigued. “Angel? The one in L.A.? What journal? Are you going to eat that?”

Giles pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Anya. “I think that was one of the points of the dream. I don’t think this writing was about Angel.“

Spike stopped eating and listened to Anya read the passage under discussion. Not only uncomfortable with any discussions concerning the King of Brood, but he had a very bad feeling about where this whole conversation was headed.

Anya gingerly unfolded the paper trying to avoid any residual of the clinging odor and read:

“Well, it rhymes,” Anya commented as she finished setting the paper on the table and snagged some food off Spike’s plate.

Giles continued, “This morning after I woke up, I did a little research into the name on the tombstone, Elizabeth Winthrope, and her family. She had died in 1895.”

“You didn’t!?” Anya asked Spike, clearly unnerved by the implication.

Giving a long suffering sigh, Spike grudgingly answered her. “I didn’t kill him and neither did Angelus. We had left London long before that.” Looking the Watcher in the eyes, “I was creating too much of a stir for us to stay.”

Anya next rounded on Giles, “Why do you think it is Angel?”

Falling back on habit, Giles began to clean his glasses. “That is the point or not the point or… Whichever. I don’t think it does have to do with that vampire with a soul, but I think it is an entirely different vampire.

As I was saying, I found that Elizabeth had had a son and a daughter. The son died early, but the daughter, Victoria, lived to the age of 72. She in turn had a son, Edward who became a Watcher. No wonder the name rang a bell that night in the cemetery. You see, Edwards odd little poem had fascinated me even before I met Angel. So I just made an assumption. Also, Edward had not been particularly known for second sight but for trying his hand at poetry. I gather it ran in the family. Accordingly, the poem was not classified as a prophecy.”

Spike had become noticeably tense, “Watcher, you go too far.” Anya wondered how he had managed to unclench his jaw enough to speak.

Giles, though, remained calm. “No, I disagree. I think this discussion was a long time in coming. You have avoided it before. If you will recall, I have mentioned before that you might have a higher purpose.”

Anya grabbed the paper back up. “Timeout. You think this is about Spike?”

Giles answered directly to Spike, “You chose to stay in Sunnydale to help. You chose to protect those of the light, Dawn, and in your own way, Buffy. You just returned from a journey to Africa where you made another choice, didn’t you?”

At that, Spike snatched up the paper and was gone.

Anya was now completely puzzled. “Where did he go?”

Anya and Giles found him in the private cemetery standing in front of Elizabeth Winthrope’s grave.

The Watcher went to stand beside to the vampire. “You made sure Angelus left before he was able to kill your family as he did his own and Drusilla’s, didn’t you?” He didn’t really expect a confirmation of any type.

Anya had wandered over to the next grave. “Look, this must have been her son, William. Was he suppose to be a Watcher, too, but died too soon?” Gazing at the marker, Anya began to put two and two together. She turned to look at Spike who refused to look that way. “William?”

“You’re both cracked. The prophecy is not about me.”

Taking the fact that he was still standing and breathing as a good sign that he was at last making some head way with the vamp, Giles decided to press his luck. “Two things convince me that Edward was referring to you, not Angel. First, Angel had a built in reason to change his path - his soul. No choice involved. Second, I don’t think the use of the word ‘watch’ was by accident. At least not to that family. I think you may have been destined to be a watcher had you not died. Maybe Angelus knew and was trying to prevent it.” Giles paused to consider his next words. “I was about to say that I think your it is your time to make the final decision, but you already made that choice in Africa, didn’t you?”

Never looking up from the tombstone, Spike replied, “More or less my choice. Now the challenge is learning to live with it.”

Spike heard his computer ding letting him know he had just received mail. ‘Gotta love this new modern technology. Much better than the post.’ Smiling slightly, he goes over to see what the Nibblet had to say, but was quite taken back finding mail from someone new. The contents of the email were more astounding than the fact that someone else besides Dawn was contacting him.

Sorrow: How can someone with a soul be so evil and a demon with no soul be so kind?

Carpe Noctorum: Can’t be the Slayer - way too many words to me without yet including a threat. A stranger with a riddle. Interesting. Who might you be?

Sorrow: Someone trying to understand, trying to make her way back into the light. Thought you could help.

Carpe Noctorum: “Her,” must be connected to Dawn somehow, and not happy with evil humans. Hmm…I think I prefer to call you “Red.” My memories of Red are perky, bubbling, always willing to help her friends or even an enemy when she thought it was needed. Sorrow just doesn’t fit you, luv.

Sorrow: It does now. I can’t seem to see past it, past the grief.

Carpe Noctorum: No time like the present and all that rubbish. I am not going to give you the pep gab as everyone else surely has. Tara was good through and through. She loved you, and I am sure she would want you happy. Respect that, keep the memories and move on, Red.

Sorrow: I know the grief will always be there, but will I always feel the pull of evil?

Carpe Noctorum: Yes. But everybody feels some pull towards evil. Even if it is just to flip someone off. Some succumb more than others. Some give in, and some don’t. You are right in that it is like grief: diminishes with time but never completely goes away. It’s a constant battle.

Sorrow: Thanks for the honesty.

Carpe Noctorum: I take it your riddle is asking about Warren. And the demon you are referring to?

Sorrow: Clem? See me wearing my innocent face, big puppy dog eyes…

Carpe Noctorum: And a very sarcastic ‘right’ to you, pet. To put a fine point on it, you want to know why Warren with a soul can be a cold blooded killer like a soulless demon, yours truly.

Sorrow: I can see where you would say that from the way you were treated in Sunnydale. Granted, you did deserve a lot of it - I do have personal experience, you know (cough forcing a love spell for Druscilla cough attacking me in my dorm room cough). But later you did help us voluntarily and received no thanks from us. But you should know that I’ve read your emails to Dawn. I look at those and the last two years with new eyes especially in light of these last couple of months.

Carpe Noctorum: Funny. My trip to Africa gave me reasons to ponder the same question as your riddle. There are too many exceptions to the soul = good, no soul = bad rule. It comes down to choice, soul or no soul. It’s easier to be evil without a soul because you have no conscience. So no guilt. A soulless demon can still choose to do good things - look at Clem. While a human can choose to be evil. Just read the newspaper for examples: mother killing her children, students shooting up their schools, priests molesting boys... It’s not the soul that makes the person, but the choices he/she makes.

Sorrow: I have a soul and chose evil. And I don’t think I feel the remorse I should.

Carpe Noctorum: As my prim and proper mum use to tell me, it may feel good but can still be wrong. But sometimes you have very good reasons for choosing an evil path. Besides, I would have done it much slower.

Sorrow: But that still doesn’t make it right.

Carpe Noctorum: The only thing you can do is live ‘right’ now. Those ponces like the Council want you to believe you are good or evil, no in between, no change ever. No gray. But it’s all grey, just different shades of gray.

Sorrow: You changed.

Carpe Noctorum: I thought we were referring to Clem.

Sorrow: Nice dodge. Did you ever take philosophy?

Carpe Noctorum: Yea, but Victorian philosophy was truly scary.

Sorrow: Thanks again. Gotta go. Buff just got home, and before you make any threats, no, I won’t tell her.

Carpe Noctorum: Grhh…

Starting to tire but mostly annoyed, Spike was beginning to think that the demon he and Giles were running after was more squirrel than demon. Because squirrelly, he was. After many turns and twists, the chase had eventually taken them to an area beside the Thames River in front of an old dock-side building. Unable to get out more than “Bloody...”

“…Hell” Giles helpfully finished for him. “He went into that warehouse.” He caught his breath as he watched the small, spry demon slide under a large roll-up door that had been left slightly ajar. “Why is it always a warehouse? I’ll go cover the back.”

Spike loved the chase, but this was approaching the ridiculous, he thought, as he quickly followed into the building. With ease, his golden eyes adjusted to the darkened surroundings. Listening for a moment, he could hear his prey making his way towards the back behind some abandoned machinery. Determined to make it there in time, he decided to go over instead of around, landing on the surprised creature.

Keeping the demon’s head crushed to the concrete under his boot, taking a brief break, he leaned one hand on a piece of equipment and another on his hip. Hearing noise from the back door, he looking up at Giles. “Glad you could join the party. The boy is going to lay here until I squash him.”

Giles managed to finally say, “Maybe I should jog more.”

“Maybe I should quit smoking.”

The “nah” came out in unison.

Suddenly, they heard the front door roll up, slamming into the ceiling. Instinctually ducking down behind the machinery, Giles and Spike watched a large, dark SUV enter the warehouse. Two guys jumped out dragging a third roughly between them by the arms and strung him up using a chain hanging from the ceiling. The intended victim was all the while loudly but clearly begging for his life. The driver got out with a pair of tin snips, lighting a hand-held blow torch. The next out was a slight, professional looking type followed by a very large demon best described as a cross between an eagle and a man. Only a very large hybrid. He was over 7 ft tall, brown feathers instead of hair, a severely hooked nose, and brownish complexion. Talons for hands completed the fearsome look and large, round eyes.

At their approach, the demon hanging from the chains started to softly whimper. “I’ve still got them. They’re safe.”

For a few minutes, screaming was the only thing heard as the driver stepped forward to snip off one of his fingers and then used the blow torch to cauterize the wound. Killing was obviously not the immediate goal. Persuasion was.

Giles and Spike heard the giant mumble and then the suit translate: “Alpha says you should have come to us in the first place. Instead we had to hunt you down since February to collect his property.”

“No, no. I had to take care of some other business first.”

Queasy in his stomach, Giles turned away as they heard another snip and then the blow torch.

After the screaming died back down, they could hear more mumbling and another translation: “What could be more important than your business with Alpha.”

This time Alpha came close to the victim’s face to mumble what was sure to be a threat. To add emphasis, he extended his retractable talons to mere millimeters from his prey’s eyes.

The suit calmly filled in the blanks. “Alpha doesn’t choose to believe you. Where…Are…The…Eggs?”

The whimpering started again. “Ok…Ok. I was paying a vampire to store them, but the Slayer found them and blew them up.”

Giles looked instantly to Spike who could only mutter, “Bullocks, I never got paid. So the Slayer told you about my bad business investment, did she?”

His voice and Giles’ reply was covered up by the screams. So Giles nodded and glared.

They both looked back as the bloody mess who was finally able to choke out, “…but I know when there are going to be more laid at the Hellmouth. I was going back next week to get you more.”

Alpha mumbled some more, and his translator said, “Tell us where and when.”

“I can’t…I have to show you. Go with you. The demon mum will only deal with me.”

Alpha gave orders and headed back to the car. As the minions unchained the prisoner, the suit called to them, “Bring him. We will wrap up our business and leave for Sunnydale in a couple of days.”

Behind the machinery, Spike remembered that his foot was holding down another demon but was glad to have a distraction from Giles’ wrath that he knew was coming.

Getting sick of the struggle, Spike kicked the demon in the head, knocking him out cold. Better to get the butt chewing over and done. “I was only trying to get blunt for Nibblet and the Slayer.”

Surprising the vamp, Giles raised his hand to silence the explanation. “Don’t even start. I am well familiar with some of your plans and their usual results.”

Feeling relieved, Spike continued, “Looks like you need to call Sunneyhell and warn them, mate.”

Feeling like a father figure, Giles did his best to hide a meddlesome smile. “Not me. You are Sunnydale bound. Your mess, you fix it.”

*****

On her way home from patrol, Buffy had no idea what or who was coming her way. She just knew something was coming and hoped it was not another apocalypse since the last one had worn her out. Buffy was so antsy that she didn’t even think she could sleep, like she was going to have a Slayer Dream. Didn’t even want to go there. She had been trying so hard lately to be upbeat and positive.

However, when she finally got to sleep, wow, what a spectacular dream. She was enjoying a night off at the beach watching Xander meticulously constructing an elaborate sand castle. Dawn and Willow were there also trying to help but really weren’t. Xander sent them with a bucket each into the surf for water. Laughing as the two quickly began a splashing contest that quickly evolved into buckets of water being thrown. Squeals of laughter filled air.

Buffy was also laughing at their antics. She, however, was sitting back a ways on the grass but definitely not alone. She was happily nestled in her lover’s lap, her back against his front, both facing the scene. Only he wasn’t watching. With his arms securely wrapped around her, he was gently nibbling her ear lobe. It was one of those dreams where she couldn’t see his face, couldn’t put a name to him if she tried, but was certain it didn’t matter. She was happy and knew this was the right place for her to be at that moment. She felt loved, safe, and relaxed in a melting sort of way. Umm…She inhaled deeply as her lover started to kiss his way down her neck sending erotic sparks through her system. Her hazel eyes started to glaze over and slowly close with desire.

She reluctantly opened her eyes at Xander’s yelp. Dawn and Willow had made it back to the castle. However, her sister was now rolling in the sand consumed with laughter, and Willow was suspiciously standing behind a dripping Xander holding an empty bucket. Even with this distraction, Buffy had to focus hard to understand what Xander was saying, “… you two. Get a room or come help.”

Chuckling, she got up and headed towards the castle. She realized she was missing something, missing him. She stopped and turned back to look at her lover. He was still sitting on the grass, only a silhouette due to the street lamps from the costal road up the slope. She motioned him to join her with one hand, smiling, eager for his company. Happiness returned as she watched him start to stand and come towards her.

Sleeping comfortably on a red-eye plane bound for California, a vampire was having the same dream. He, however, knew who he was caressing so intimately. He didn’t need to see the face to know who he was wrapped around. Not only did her distinctive smell and feel give her away, and his sense of peace that he felt only with her told him all he needed to know.

As Spike continued to dream, Buffy had headed towards Xander. Overwhelmed by the need to join them, he had just taken a step towards the beckoning girl but found that he could move no further. He knew he wasn’t frozen, that there was no invisible barrier but could not move any farther away from the spot he had just left. He looked back. Sitting on the grass, staring up at him, he looked at himself, seeing himself as the demon looked to the world. Bleach blonde and scar at his left eyebrow, hesitant and slightly sad but hard expression as if expecting rejection, expecting tragedy. Simultaneously, Spike was staring up at William, but not the same William he had been the night he died. Cocking his head to the side, he studied the sandy blonde hair now neatly coifed and somehow the features seemed more mature and sure of himself. Hope lit this William’s eyes.

Beyond William, motion caught his attention. Both turned to look at the woman motioning them to her. Knowing she should have thought it odd for the lone man to suddenly become two, unable to leave each other, but also knowing this was a dream. It seemed perfectly normal and right. Taking a step back towards them, Buffy raised both arms this time in a warm, welcoming appeal.

Both William and Spike could see the outstretched arms to them, obviously including both in the gesture. Spike started to get up as William turned to face Buffy fully. Taking a step forward, everyone was momentarily blinded by the flash of white light as Spike melded with William. Two figures matched up perfectly, becoming one. Moving forward as one.