Chapter 50:
Angel’s thoughts were troubled as he walked through the various cemeteries of
Sunnydale. He hoped that the watcher was right, that he’d be able to get Buffy
back to their time, safe and in one piece. And her memories intact. His lips
compressed in a hard line as he thought of all the things that Spike could be
doing to her, alone and without him to look after her – his mind conjuring
several possibilities, not the least of which was the Slayer’s death at his
grandchilde’s hand.
And the condition Buffy had been in before she’d disappeared…
He shied away from his negative thoughts and tried to distract himself by taking
out a few newly risen vampires. His sensitive ears picked up the faint sounds of
earth being displaced a few headstones over, and turned towards that direction.
A vague sense of being followed drew him up short, and Angel turned in a circle
as he listened intently to the night sounds all about – blocking out the rather
loud ones coming from the awakening fledge near his feet.
His eyes narrowed as he gazed into the distance, but his preternatural hearing
could detect nothing amiss. He shook his head and dismissed the matter from his
mind, once more concentrating on the ground shifting near his feet.
‘Damn fledges making minions. It’s a wonder that vampires haven’t become extinct
due to stupidity alone.’
The vamp had no sooner gotten his chest above ground that Angel squatted beside
the struggling demon, driving his stake home. Dust covered his arm and the elder
vampire smacked at his leather sleeve to clean it off, rising to his feet as he
did so.
His thoughts once more turned to the brief conversation he and the watcher had
had in the library. Rupert had claimed it was just a question of determining
which spell had been used to send Buffy to the past, and that it was a simple
matter of doing a counter spell to get her back. Angel wasn’t leaving anything
to chance, however, and his lumbering steps took him towards Sunnydale’s
warehouse district.
It was time to pay his psychic childe a visit.
~*~*~*~*~
From his place atop the adjacent building, dressed entirely in black and keeping
to the shadows, Joseph watched the crazed vampiress through the open windows of
the warehouse. She’d been screeching since before he’d arrived, scaring the
minions scattered about the room as she railed and screamed, alternately whining
for her “Spike” and her “Daddy.” He winced as another ear-piercing scream rent
the air, the sound having the effect of nails down a chalkboard – and he was a
good distance away. He could only imagine what her minions were made to suffer,
as they stood much closer.
He turned away from her antics as he sensed the approach of another. His amber
eyes scanned the ground beneath him outside the building and noticed the
familiar vampire making his way towards one of the side doors.
‘Interesting,’ he thought as Spike’s grandsire let himself inside. He turned
back to the window to see the vampiress stop in her tracks and race toward her
visitor.
“Daddy!” she cried, before stopping abruptly some distance from his side.
“You’re not my daddy.” She hissed then, fangs bared as she backed away.
Joseph watched as her hands returned to her hair, pulling on the dark tresses as
she mumbled incoherently, swaying back and forth. Angel seemed to take her
behavior in stride, moving closer until he could draw the sobbing female into
his arms.
~*~
“He’s lost to me….lost,” she whimpered.
“Who’s lost, Drusilla?”
“My Spike….”
Angel drew back, gripping his childe’s upper
arms tight in his hands. “What do you
see?” He shook her, eyes narrowing as her head lolled and a demented smile came
to her lips. “Tell me what you see.”
“I can’t…they’re…” Drusilla’s eyes glazed over. “…hidden. Why is he hiding from
me, Daddy?” she wailed. She was mumbling now, lost in a place of her own making.
A place she’d created after he’d broken her. After Angelus had broken her.
Angel drew her back against his chest and he tried to calm her down. He’d seen
Drusilla in moods like this often enough to know that he’d not get any more
information out of her. He turned, his eyes pinning one of the minions in place.
“You! Tell me what happened here.”
The minion cowered in the corner under the weight of the master vampire’s stare,
but answered nonetheless.
“I don’t know, Master. She just started screeching all of a sudden. Calling for
somebody named William over and over.”
Angel grunted. She’d obviously seen something happen that had to do with Spike.
He was just going to have to wait until she was lucid before he could question
her further. Sighing in resignation, he guided his childe towards the makeshift
bedrooms in the warehouse.
~*~
“I thought he didn’t have contact with any of his childer,” Clayton commented as
the pair disappeared from their sight. The vampire had joined Joseph earlier,
since he’d been tasked with keeping an eye on Angel.
“I don’t know. His actions aren’t consistent with what Spike shared about him.
Guess we’ll just have to keep an eye on him, see where he plays out in this
thing.”
~*~*~*~*~
“You’re just tryin’ to get eaten’, aren’t ya?” Spike grumbled at the figure
lounging comfortably in the chair before the dying fire. “You do realize that I
was sleepin’ here, right? It being bloody daylight and all?”
The answering laughter grated the vampire’s nerves and he growled for a moment
before realizing that he was going to end up waking the Slayer.
“What do you want? Can’t you let a vamp sleep in peace?”
“I could, yeah. But why deny myself the pleasure of your charming disposition?”
Spike rolled his eyes and slipped out from beneath the Slayer’s grasp. With the
half-breed ensconced comfortably in his room, there’d be no sleep until Doyle
had said what he’d been tasked with saying. Better to get up now and get it over
with so he could crawl back beside Buffy’s warm body and go back to sleep. He
climbed naked from the bed and snagged his pants from where they’d been
discarded earlier, slipping them on over his lean hips.
“You want something to drink, mate?” he called out as he walked towards the
dresser that held glasses and a few various bottles of liquor. Marcus was
nothing if not the ultimate host.
“Whatever you’re having is fine with me.”
The vampire poured two healthy doses of Scotch in each tumbler and made his way
to the chairs situated near the fireplace. He handed the half-breed a glass,
setting his own down on the table between the two chairs so that he could stoke
the dying embers and chase the chill from the room. Not that he noticed, but his
Slayer was partial to the heat. His annoying friend could freeze for all he
cared.
“So, what is it this time?” Spike asked as he plopped down in his chair and took
a healthy sip of his drink. “Wait… Don’t tell me. You came to gloat about the
blood bond, right?”
Doyle grinned at the disgruntled vampire. He remembered the first time they’d
had this conversation. How the vampire had practically torn his head off in his
denial to claim the vampires as his. And, in the subsequent years the vampire
had been equally adamant about not performing the blood rite. How he’d managed
to resist his demon’s demands was a constant source of amazement for Doyle and
those he worked for.
“Slayer made you do it, huh?” he chuckled knowingly. If the vamp had one
weakness, it was his human wife. Though Spike never said anything, Doyle knew
there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to make her happy.
Spike snorted, not bothering to answer. It wasn’t like the half-breed didn’t
know anyway.
“Yeah, well… when you cave, you do it with gusto. I see you finally told the
girl.”
Spike looked askance at his friend, not sure what he was referring to.
And then it hit him.
He jumped up from his chair, eyes darting towards the bed and zeroing in on the
slumbering figure huddled beneath the covers. He’d actually done it. Not that
she’d probably heard him…or maybe she had. But…. Bloody hell! His fingers raked
through his unkempt hair as the weight of what he’d done pressed in on him.
“I’d tell you to breathe before you pass out from lack of oxygen, but you being
a vampire and all…”
Spike’s head swiveled around towards Doyle, ready to tear off his head if he so
much as cracked a smile. The smile was there, but it was tempered by the
understanding he saw in the half-breed’s eyes.
“Sit down before you fall down, Spike. You look like you’ve been sucker
punched.”
The vampire fell into his chair, his unsteady hand reaching out to grip his
glass and bring it to his lips – downing the remaining contents in one long
swallow. Doyle rolled his eyes at the waste of good Scotch but stood up to
retrieve the bottle. At the dresser, he stared at the other two bottles before
grabbing those as well and rejoining the vampire.
~*~*~*~*~
“Check!” Doyle shouted, pleased that for once he had the vampire on the run.
“Shhh! You’re gonna wake the—”
“Spike?” Buffy called out sleepily.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Spike hissed at his friend, then turned towards the
bed. Unfortunately, the three bottles the two demons had consumed the last
several hours had messed with his coordination and the vampire scattered the
chess pieces all over the board.
“You did tha’ on purpose,” Doyle complained drunkenly. “Jus’ couldn’ stand t’see
me win!”
“I bloody well did not, you git.” Spike growled at the half-breed, having
momentarily forgotten the Slayer.
Buffy rolled her eyes as the two commenced to bickering back and forth. It would
be a while yet before either remembered her presence, if at all. There was
something about chess and those two that made everything else take a back seat
in their minds. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d not really eaten
last night. She grabbed her robe and slipped it on, calling out that she’d be
back shortly and slipped from the room.
Their raised voices continued to chase her down the hall.
The smell of freshly cooked meat lured her towards the dining room and she
stepped inside to see Clayton sitting at the head of the table, his nose buried
in The Times.
“Ma non prendi mai niente meno seriamente? Dobbiamo trovarti un compagno,
Clayton , seriamente! Tutto questo leggere non farà che strizzarti il…. Qual'è
la parola che stavo cercando?” [Don’t you ever lighten up? We’ve got to find you
a mate, Clayton, seriously! All that reading is bound to shrink your…what’s the
word I’m looking for?”]
“Penis?” he asked as he lowered the paper.
“Erm… yeah.” ‘Don’t blush, Buffy. Don’t blush, Buffy.’ She slipped into
the chair to his left and quietly thanked the servant that set a plate filled
with steaming hot food in front of her. “Ad ogni modo…” [Anyway…]
“And who’s to say I’m not.” Clayton folded the paper and set it aside, grabbing
his goblet of blood and saluting her. “Just because I’m not as loud as some
people…”
The blush she’d been trying to prevent blossomed on her cheeks. She and Spike
had been rather loud last night after their brief nap on the floor. “Ok, fine. I
concede defeat. But seriously though, Clayton. Have you given it some thought?
Surely there’s some nice girl out there…”
The male vampire looked up at the approach of another.
“Quick, Byron. Rescue me! Buffy’s on her mate kick again.”
Buffy’s head swiveled towards the newcomer, taking in his cautious stride as he
walked up the opposite side of the long, wooden table and sat down across from
her.
“¡Diablos, no! Ella me perseguía la semana pasada. Ella puede fastidiarte por un
rato.” [Hell no! She was hounding me last week. She can pick on you for awhile.]
“No veo—” Buffy began. [I just don’t see—]
“Célibataire, Buffy. Regarde dans le dico.” [Bachelor, Buffy. Look it up.]
“Est-ce que vous pourriez choisir un langage et vous y tenir, les gars? Il est
bien trop tôt pour passer de l'un à l'autre comme ça.” [Would you guys pick one
language and stick with it? It’s too damn early in the morning for this constant
shuffling back and forth.”]
“Hey, du mischst dich hier ungefragt in unser Liebesleben ein, du kannst nicht
ernsthaft erwarten das wir dir das leicht machen?” [Hey, you're getting involved
in our love lives without being asked, you don't seriously think we will make
that easy on you, do you?]
“Arsch,” she grumbled good-naturedly, throwing her napkin at Byron’s head. He
caught it easily and smirked at her.
“I see our friend is back,” Byron commented, switching back to English. He’d
passed by Buffy and Spike’s borrowed room and heard the master vampire yelling
at the half-breed. The words were rather garbled, and the smell pervading the
room indicated that both had been drinking rather heavily. “Does he have some
enlightening news for us?”
“Probably. But, it’ll be a while before we get to find out what it is. Those two
went through the three bottles that had been left on the dresser. It’s a wonder
they aren’t both comatose right now.”
The two males heard the sound of a fist connecting with flesh, and resultant
thud of something against the floor. Then all went quiet.
“I think they are now,” Clayton commented unnecessarily.
“Well, if he thinks I’m going up there to haul his ass into bed, he’s got
another thing coming.”
Clayton and Byron hid their smiles behind their cups as the Slayer attacked her
food.
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy’s hair fanned out behind her as the stallion she was riding galloped along
the trail in the late afternoon sun. While the others either slept or lounged
about, she took the opportunity to escape outside and contemplate the decision
she’d made last night. The decision she’d forced Spike into making.
The appearance of Doyle so soon after their blood rite ceremony couldn’t be a
good thing, and the Slayer wondered if maybe she’d been too hasty. But, she was
tired of waiting, if the truth be told. Not that she was ready to go home. Far
from it, in fact. The thought of being dragged back to Sunnydale was anything
but appealing. She was just tired of walking around on egg shells, waiting for
the proverbial shoe to drop.
She’d initiated the blood rite because if she and Spike were suddenly sucked
back in time, she wanted a way for her friends to find her…provided they lived
through whatever it was that was going to happen. No, she’d made the right
decision. Even now she could feel the subtle tug in her blood, and felt
comforted by it.
The Slayer reached the crest of another hill and pulled her mount to a stop. He
tugged at the reins a bit, snorting his displeasure at being stopped in the
middle of his run, and Buffy’s legs tightened about his girth as he prepared to
rear. She rode out his temper tantrum, leaning down to give him a pat to his
neck once he’d settled down. As she sat up, her eyes roamed over the wide open
spaces of Marcus’ ancestral home, wondering if she was looking at it for the
last time.
Her thoughts were growing morose, and she shoved them away. She’d not let what
might happen cloud what was, to her, a special occasion. Digging her heels in
the stallion’s sides, she raced back towards the mansion.
It was time to find out what Doyle had to say.
Chapter 51:
“His name is Havlov. He was a Russian Cossack before being turned by the
Master in 1523. As a human, Havlov was a sadistic bastard, and the Master
nurtured that quality in him. Backfired though, when Havlov’s fellow Cossacks
found out what he’d become and nearly got them killed.”
“Couldn’t have made the Master too happy,” Buffy commented.
“Yes…. Well, the Master decided to visit the Colonies, let things settle down a
bit. Allow the stories of vampires to get embellished until they became tales
told to children to keep them in line. While there, he heard stories of a woman.
A whore that had forsaken God and lay on her deathbed.”
“Darla,” Spike growled.
“Yes, Darla. She became the Master’s favorite, but Havlov thought to reclaim
that place for himself. Nothing he ever tried worked, though. Darla may have
been just a fledge, but she’d seen things as a human. Knew the nature of man,
and applied those principles to demons.”
“What? That all men are assholes and not to be trusted?”
“Oi, luv! I take exception to that! Not a bloody arsehole, and you know you can
trust me.”
“Sorry, was having a flashback to my pre-Slayer days.” She gave a cheeky grin to
Spike; he snorted and rolled his eyes at her attempt at being funny.
“Buffy’s right, though. Darla didn’t trust him, and stayed close to the
Master’s side. At least until they’d returned to Europe. The wealth she’d
suddenly found herself surrounded by eventually got to her… bored her,
truthfully… and she started venturing out alone more often. She was almost half
a century now, and the Aurelian clan then was like it is now, very close-knit.
Havlov kept his eye on her, however, looking for signs of weakness.”
“I take it he found one?” Buffy asked.
“Yeah… though she enjoyed her life in the upper crust of London society, Darla
was, and always would be, a commoner by nature. And keep in mind, she was
a prostitute.”
“Give ‘er a good tumble in a darkened alley and she was happy,” Spike
interjected. At Buffy’s look he added, “What? ‘m just sayin’. It was how she met
Angelus, after all.”
“How very true, Spike. And, it was Havlov that took Darla and a couple of others
from the clan up to Ireland. See, he’d spied her watching some of the human
commoners as they drank and caroused at several of the waterfront taverns in
London and figured the way to get her from the Master’s side was for her to find
a pet of her own. It worked. She made Angelus and three years later, they
departed for parts unknown.”
“So, with his number one competition out of the way, Havlov could again become
the Master’s favorite?” Buffy added, nodding thoughtfully.
“Guess it didn’t work though, because I’ve barely heard of him,” Clayton added.
“Have you, Joseph?” Of the assembled vampires, discounting Spike, Clayton was
the second oldest at forty years; Joseph had an extra twenty years on him.
“Vaguely. Nothing substantial,” Joseph replied. “I couldn’t pick him out among
the clan. Adam? You’re the one that suspected one of the Master’s disgruntled
childer.”
“Only because it fits the pattern. The Master has too many childer for me to
keep track of, and any inquiries I might make now would tip our hand.”
“It’s not really going to matter,” Doyle told them. “With the blood rite having
been performed, the Master is going to know. It’ll be a perfect opportunity for
Havlov to get back in the Master’s good graces…take out those that would dare to
break from the Aurelian clan, and he would be redeemed. Since you guys represent
the crème de la crème of the British aristocracy, your ‘deaths’ would wipe out
the visible presence of vampires in society.”
“Allowing Havlov’s plan of a free-for-all to come to pass,” Renee concluded.
“How much time do we have?” Spike asked.
“Another twenty-four hours at most,” Doyle hypothesized.
“Oh my god, Spike. The servants. What—”
“It’s all been taken care of, luv.” He didn’t mention to her that though they’d
been pensioned off with enough money to see themselves, their children, and
their children’s children, settled in a life of luxury, most had elected to stay
in London – even after they’d been told that the mark each of them bore on their
necks was no guarantee to their continued safety. Spike had growled at their
stubbornness but had written out glowing letters of recommendation that his
servants could use to seek employment elsewhere.
Spike pushed himself away from the wall he’d been leaning against to walk
towards the windows. The heavy curtains had sealed out the late-afternoon sun,
and he pulled the material aside to see that darkness had descended. He stood
there for a moment, staring out at the peaceful countryside, his features oddly
wistful at realizing that everything was about to change.
Without bothering to turn around, he spoke quietly. “You heard him. We’ve got
less than twenty-four hours. Go by horseback and gather what you might need, the
rest we leave behind. We’ll meet up at the Dowager Duchess of Sevring’s estate.
She’s off visiting her son and his wife and won’t mind us using her place for
however long we might need.
The group quickly departed, and a moment later, Spike felt the Slayer’s arms
slide around his waist.
“Hey, kitten,” he murmured quietly, grabbing her hands and drawing her in front
of him. He lifted her left hand, placing a kiss to the top of the ruby ring she
wore – the wedding ring she’d never taken off, no matter the other jewelry he’d
gifted her with over the years.
“Spike, I’m sor—”
“No regrets, luv. Like you said, it was past time.”
“Then why are you upset?”
“’m not. Just gotten used to this place, is all. Now, run and get your stuff,
I’ll be there in a minute.” Spike placed a quick kiss on her lips then shooed
her from the room.
The click of the door as it closed was ominously loud to the two remaining
occupants. Spike turned, his brow quirked as he gazed upon the fidgeting
half-breed.
“Well?”
“W-well what?” Doyle asked nervously.
“Don’t ‘well what’ me. You know what ‘m talkin’ about.”
“Uhhhh…”
“How ‘bout I start, and you feel free to cut in anytime?” He saw the trapped
expression on his friend’s face and snorted. “Let’s start with that song and
dance you gave me over twenty years ago about my and the Slayer’s destiny. Good
enough for you?”
From his place across the room, Doyle swallowed heavily. He always knew that the
conversation he was having now with the vampire would likely get him killed – no
matter that they were friends. Which was why he’d been so close-mouthed on the
whole “destiny” situation.
“Havlov was just a red herring, something to get the Slayer motivated. And she
fell right into your bloody trap...drawin’ me and those around us with her.”
Spike was pacing now, clearly not happy with the conclusions he was drawing.
“You said it yourself, heck, even history shows us that vampires become
creatures of the night. So, what’sit matter that Havlov gets his wish?”
“Spike…”
“No! I’m tired of bein’ led about on a string. And, ‘m not gonna risk one of my
own for your bloody Powers until you tell me exactly what’s goin’ on.” He
stopped his pacing, amber gaze boring into that of the half-breed’s blue.
Doyle rose on shaky limbs and crossed to the bar. If he were going to die, it
would be with a drink in his hands.
“Her presence here is instrumental in the coming battle. Yours too,” Doyle told
him, his back still to the vampire.
“You’ve told me this already. Right after the Slayer got her memories back.”
“Yes…only… I lied a bit about the time frame.” The growl had him stammering out
his excuses. “It wasn’t me, Spike. Do you think I liked not telling you
the entire truth up front? I knew this day was going to come…where I’d have to
explain myself…explain what the Powers intended all along.”
“And just what is it they do ‘intend’?”
“Everto Proeliator Lux Lucis…roughly translated, Demon Warriors of Light. Hell,
when the Powers told me about it, I had to laugh. Especially when they told me
that the vampire was you.” Seeing Spike’s less-than-pleased expression, Doyle
rushed to explain. “I mean, come on… William the Bloody? The self-professed
Slayer of Slayers? Breaking from his clan and forming his own sect that helped
maintain the balance of good and evil, a claimed Slayer at his side?”
Doyle plopped back in his chair, talking a healthy drink of his brandy.
“I watched her when she came back from L.A. after the thing with the Master.
Heck, I spent the latter half of the summer trailing behind her in L.A. It’s
where I’m from, ya know…not that it matters. But, I watched her and couldn’t
help thinking, ‘This is the girl that’s going to do all that? This
self-destructive Slayer that seemed to almost welcome death.’ I have to tell ya,
I thought the Powers had a screw loose.”
Spike started at hearing that Buffy had a death wish. Struggling to reconcile
the strong-willed Slayer he’d fought on her parent-teacher night, with a Slayer
that could have been his third. He grabbed a drink for himself, settling in a
seat across from Doyle. “What happened?”
“She exorcised a few demons. See, the Anointed One, was bent on resurrecting the
Master, and had reassembled the vampire’s bones. Slayer found out about it…
about the same time she found out some of her friends had been taken captive.
She went in, stopped the resurrection spell, and got out her frustration by
taking a sledgehammer to the Master’s bones. Fine piece of work, too.”
Spike smirked as an image came to mind, Buffy playing ‘grind the bones.’
“Still…I wasn’t convinced about her destiny. Then you showed up. But, I still
wasn’t convinced. Especially when you went after her at school. Good thing her
mom happened along.”
“Axe hurt like a right bitch,” Spike murmured, rubbing the back of his head in
memory.
“Then Halloween happened, and I thought, okay, maybe the Powers do know what
they’re talking about, because suddenly you and the Slayer were gone. When I
watched you in the alley, I was surprised. You could have easily drained her
dry. But, you didn’t.”
“You’re the one that pointed out to do so would affect my chances of getting
back home,” Spike commented.
“True, but when do you ever let rational thought stay your natural impulses?”
Spike grumbled but didn’t answer.
“Anyway, the rest is pretty much history. You claimed the Slayer. She fell in
love with you, and you her. She’s far exceeded any expectations the Powers had
for her regarding her training. You both have brought about the prophecy all on
your own. Everything you’ve done has enabled you to fulfill your role. After
this thing with Havlov, you and your clan will disappear, meld into the
shadows—”
“And what?”
“Quit being so obtuse. This is your destiny, William. You and your ‘Warriors of
Light’ will observe the goings on of man and demon alike and maintain balance.
You have all the tools you might need to see to your task. Money. Power.
Anonymity.”
“So we’re just supposed to wander the globe taking out the Big Bads?”
“Something like that, yeah. You’ll become like the wind, so when you do extract
your justice, no one will be the wiser to you and yours.”
“And how long—”
“I really can’t answer that. But, you get your clan in hand, mold them to your
ways, so that when you are yanked back, they’ll continue on in your
absence.”
“What happens when we’re back in the present? We just go back to our old ways?”
“I’ve shown you your path, only you can decide whether or not you stay on it.”
Doyle had disappeared not long after his speech, leaving Spike with a lot to
decide. Gulping down the last of his brandy, he walked out of the study and
hurried to catch up with the Slayer. They had an errant childe to dust, and a
future to decide.
Chapter 52:
Giles looked at the three weary teenagers and reluctantly called a halt to
their research session, his announcement meeting with groans of complaint that
they’d yet to find anything substantial. No one had left the library all day,
except for Xander. And that, only for food. His impromptu hint that Buffy could
be pulled back to their time was the driving force keeping the group at it,
their fingers flipping through page after page of the assorted tomes littering
the library table. But, it was late, the children trying to hide yawns behind
their hands, unwilling to give up without having found an answer to their latest
predicament. And, though he would have like to continue, Giles knew that nothing
more could be done this night.
He held up his hand, forestalling any further comment from Willow.
“Cordelia, I trust you can make it home safely.”
The cheerleader looked up from one of the books she’d been reading, marking her
spot so she would know where to begin tomorrow.
“Yeah, sure.” Cordelia closed the book, rising to her feet. She flipped her
long, brown hair
over her shoulder and straightened the
wrinkles from her skirt, somehow managing to look spectacular even after having
spent the entire day, and a good portion of her evening, seated around the
library table.
“Very good, then. I’ll run Willow and Xander home. Let me just grab a few things
before I lock up and we can all walk out together.”
Giles retrieved his briefcase from his office, stuffing a few of the books he’d
been perusing inside. The others he left where they were for tomorrow. It would
be Sunday, so there was no chance of someone coming in behind them.
“No buts, we can continue this tomorrow,” he told them, upon encountering Willow
and Xander’s stony expressions, latching his briefcase closed.
“But, Giles—” Willow began, completely ignoring Giles’ dictate.
“Willow…” He paused a moment, pulling off his glasses to wipe wearily at his
eyes. “I understand your concern, really, I do. But you all need your rest.
You’ll be no help to Buffy like this. If it makes you feel better, I’ll be here
bright and early in the morning.”
“But what about Buffy’s mom? I think Buffy said she was supposed to be back from
her trip tomorrow evening,” Willow added, hoping the news would change the
watcher’s mind. She really didn’t want to leave. Not until they’d found the
means to bring her friend back.
“Have faith, Willow.” He laid a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder. “We’ll
figure it out in the morning, and Buffy will be back with us before you know
it.”
Willow looked up at Giles, her eyes beseeching the older man to bring her friend
back. And soon. At his confident look, she nodded hesitantly.
“Now, come…it really is getting rather late, and I don’t want to worry your
parents.”
Willow sighed and nodded again, saying nothing as she turned and headed towards
the library doors.
“No chance of that,” Xander muttered under his breath, falling into step behind
her.
~*~*~*~*~
“What the hell is that?” Derrick muttered to his mate when the group
approached the tiny blue abomination trying to pass itself off as a vehicle.
They both watched the brunette female unlock the door and slide behind the
driver’s seat of the red convertible. The engine roared to life, and a moment
later it tore out of the school parking lot, mocking the ancient relic left
waiting for its passengers to climb inside.
“It’s a car, you ass,” Esme drolled, deadpan.
“You sure ‘bout that?”
The vampiress rolled her eyes. Though, she had to admit, he did have a point.
Didn’t the Watcher’s Council pay those in their employ? And talk about
conspicuous! The car stood out like a sore thumb. She patted Derrick on the
shoulder, commenting, “Look on the bright side. The thing probably doesn’t get
over 35 so it’ll be easy for you to keep up.”
“Wha? Keep up? Wait! Hey!” Derrick griped, but she’d already disappeared – her
destination the redheaded girl’s house. Grumbling under his breath, he set out
after the vehicle, easily keeping pace while maintaining his cover. The tiny,
sputtering car pulled to a stop outside a drab, single-story home, and Derrick
watched as the boy, Xander, unfolded himself from the passenger seat and waved a
goodbye to the others. He caught sight of Byron lurking in the shadows and the
two
shared a look between one another.
How the group managed to survive outside Buffy’s influence was a wonder to both
vampires. True, Xander wasn’t a Slayer, or for that matter, even graced with
extraordinary fighting abilities, but, he was aware of things that went
bump in the night, and his nonchalant attitude as he sidled up his walkway drew
looks of amazement from the vampires guarding over him. Derrick did give a
smidgeon of credit to the watcher for waiting until the boy had gone inside
before puttering off in his relic. With a silent wave to Byron, he was gone.
At the redhead’s house, he took a moment to grope his mate before leaving her
with a lust-filled expression – eyes at half mast, lips swollen, a small drop of
blood that pooled on the plump surface when their desire had gotten the best of
them and twin sets of fangs had elongated. A look that quickly turned to
calculating retribution when he reluctantly made his excuses and hurried after
the watcher. He smirked, his back to her, of course – wouldn’t do for her to
witness his pleasure of her “left wanting” status, there’d really be hell to pay
then – knowing they’d make up for it later, once the sun was up and they were
secure within their fortress, the surveillance cameras taking over in their
absence.
Upon his arrival at the watcher’s flat, he was pleased to see the elder man take
a bit more care with his surroundings. Suitcase in one hand and a crucifix in
the other while he made haste to his front door and inside, the sound of the
bolt sliding home, loud in the vampire’s ears. Satisfied Buffy’s watcher was
safely ensconced within, Derrick checked the various cameras hidden around the
man’s home, receiving an affirmative via his headset from Adam that all appeared
in working order.
His job done, Derrick stealthily made his way back to the building that would be
their indefinite home.
~*~
Alric eyed the newcomer with some interest. It had been chance that had taken
him by the Sunnydale airport, a niggling at the back of his neck, almost like
sensing Spike nearby. Or Buffy. His eyes widened in astonishment as he witnessed
a young woman emerge from the cargo hold, her eyes scanning the surrounding area
with equal parts fascination and wariness.
‘Well, this certainly throws a monkey wrench into things,’ he thought to
himself, watching the dark-skinned Slayer intently – the stake clutched tightly
in her hand as she’d jumped down from the airplane a dead giveaway to her
identity. That, and the warning tinglies that told him one was near.
Buffy and Spike needed to hurry back…. and soon. Once the group had settled into
their newfound roles after dealing with the situation in London those many years
ago, they had taken great pains to avoid being anywhere in the vicinity of the
current Chosen One. Hell, if Buffy had had her way, they’d be on opposite sides
of the globe to avoid any type of contact. But, Spike had put his foot down when
his wife had wanted to uproot them to the northernmost reaches of the Yukon,
just because a Slayer had been called in Greece, and they’d happened to be there
at the time. The resulting row had been spectacular…
Spike had eventually compromised and taken them to Japan, and later, Russia,
instead. If Buffy wanted snow, he’d give her snow. Just in a more civilized
area…say one with actual buildings and decent modes of transportation. Not to
mention food. She’d griped at first, in a pout even Renee had been unable to
break her from, but she’d come out of her funk, her eyes bright with excitement
upon bringing home a Ronin warrior, a masterless samurai, like he was some
stray, claiming he’d be teaching the group a new form of fighting. Alric had to
admit, he’d enjoyed every lesson the bushi had dished out – they all had. When
it had come time to leave several years later, they’d entrusted the care of
their home to the warrior, a task he’d taken on with pride. Even now, Tashiro
watched over the place, his burial mound at the top of a hill overlooking their
home. A home they’d rarely seen since leaving. Surprisingly, one he’d missed the
most, even more that his father’s estate in London. Maybe it had been the few
years of relative peace they’d had while living there.
Pushing those idyllic thoughts aside, Alric concentrated on the new Slayer, his
mind mulling over the appearance of a second while following behind at a
discreet distance. He tracked her to an abandoned warehouse, where he watched
her curl herself in a ball in the corner, her hands clutching a wicked-looking
stake as she drifted off to asleep. Another few minutes, and he’d disappeared as
soundlessly as he’d arrived, doing a last quick circuit of Sunnydale before
returning to the others.
They’d have a lot to discuss once the group reconvened and had given their
respective reports.
The first of which being whether or not they aided the watcher in his Slayer’s
retrieval from the past.
~*~*~*~*~
The group had filled each another in on their respective assignments. The
revelation of Angel’s appearance at the warehouse where Spike and his sire had
taken up residence had met with some raised brows. But, it was Alric’s news that
there was a new Slayer in town that had sparked the heated debate, several of
the gathered vampires gaining their feet to pace in agitation while arguing
their point.
“It’s not like we’d have to actually hand the watcher the information,” Clayton
reasoned, ever the peacemaker in the bunch. “A note strategically placed in a
book he’s reading, perhaps?”
“Who’s to say the watcher won’t figure it out on his own?” Derrick interjected.
“Now that he seems to be on the right track, I don’t think it’s too farfetched
that he’ll find the solution in the near future.”
“Yeah, but in the meantime, we’ll be dodging not only Spike’s sire, who is a
seer of sorts, by the way, but his grandsire as well. Throw in the Slayer…”
Alric’s voice trailed off, his point made.
“Alric is right,” Adam added. “Besides, who’s to say we weren’t the ones that
had a hand in bringing her back?”
“I don’t even want to consider the ramifications of that one,” Byron groaned.
“I’ll second that thought,” Joseph added.
“I wish Renee were here. She was very insightful when it came to Buffy’s
decisions,” Angelina murmured quietly, her hand tightly grasping that of her
mate’s. “Marcus, you were close with the Slayer, what do you think she would
want us to do?”
“We’re all close with the Slayer, petal,” he corrected. The soft caress of his
fingers upon her cheek took any sting out of the gentle rebuke.
“I know that… but… you know what I mean.”
And Marcus did. He remembered fondly the Slayer telling him in no uncertain
terms of his waiting period before he could begin “courting” the girl who was
now his life mate. How she’d told him later, much later, that she’d tricked him
into the month by intentionally overdemanding the time he’d have to stew. But,
it was later, in their joint grief over his sister’s senseless murder that the
two had grown closer. She’d taken the place of his little Celeste – not that
he’d ever dare admit it aloud. In truth, Buffy had become his closest friend,
discounting his mate, and both could talk to the other about anything.
It wasn’t that he didn’t share his troubles and concerns with the others, it was
just that Buffy was the first one he went to, and he respected her human “take”
on things… not that being with them for so long hadn’t worn off on her to some
degree. But, she was more inclined to just listen, whereas the others would be
quick to offer suggestions. He liked that about her, how she just sat there,
more of a sounding board for him to reach his own decisions about things.
He’d missed her these past years – even knowing that they’d all be seeing her
again. Spike, too. The group had faltered for a bit in their absence. And Marcus
knew that if it hadn’t been for Angelina, he would have done what Renee had
done…
Shaking himself from his morose thoughts, he gave his mate’s hand a squeeze and
looked at the others.
“You all know Buffy’s feelings about us being anywhere in the vicinity of a
Slayer. I say we give the watcher a helping hand and minimize the time spent
waiting for Buffy and Spike’s return. Let our Sire decide our course of action
once he and Buffy return,” Marcus told them. He made eye contact with each of
the group seated at the table, his expression telling them without words that a
chance encounter with this new Slayer would mean her certain death. The group
couldn’t afford to have word of their presence get out. A run-in with a Master
Vampire of their caliber would spark discussion between Slayer and watcher.
And that was something to be avoided at all costs.
Chapter 53:
Spike paced back and forth in front of the assembled group seated around the
Dowager Duchess’ sitting room. He eyed each one of his childer – still
unbelieving that he had a whole clan to worry and watch over now. And, the more
he stood there, eyeing their fearful yet determined expression in the face of
taking on one of the Master’s own childer, and he undead for nearly three
hundred years, the more he thought to hell with dealing with said vampire. That
it would be best for them to just slip away and let Havlov do as he will.
His group was too young to go up against so powerful a vampire. Hell, even he
was.
The problem lay in explaining things to them. The full truth this time, now that
he knew what the Powers wanted from him, from Buffy and the others. And that was
what had him pacing. It was enough for him to try and wrap his mind
around the idea of he and his clan balancing the scales of good and evil,
getting the others to follow was… Hell. Insane was what it was. The whole idea
of vampires, and ok, the Slayer, keeping the scales on an even keel was
laughable at best. He believed he’d mentioned the evil part often enough, but
apparently it had fallen upon deaf ears.
He stopped suddenly; closing his eyes, he allowed his head to fall back and let
out an aggrieved sigh. Spike stayed like that for maybe a handful of seconds
before his eyes opened again and he lifted his head back up staring at nothing.
“Sod it all,” he grumbled under his breath, then faced the group and told them
in a louder voice, “Get your things, we’re getting out of here. Adam, our ship
is ready?”
“The Emerald is tied up and waiting instructions.”
“Good. And the other.”
“Already in place.”
“But what about Havlov?” Buffy asked, confused. “Aren’t we gonna—”
“No. We’re not. Havlov was a ruse.”
“A ruse? What? I don’t understand.”
“Think about it, Slayer. Havlov’s gonna get what he wants whether we challenge
him or not. And, I’d rather not risk you all getting killed over a done deal.”
“But—”
“Havlov was a means to an end, pet. A reason to bring you and me together, form
this li’l pack of do-gooders. They’ve been yankin’ our chains all along, Slayer.
Our job, our destiny, is to be bloody peacekeepers, maintain the balance
on the bleedin’ planet.” His voice was snide, knowing there was no way in hell
the others were going to follow him into this. They were demons after all, no
matter that they didn’t openly feed on the abundance of humans milling about in
their circles.
The Slayer, he noted, seemed like she’d been sucker punched; she deflated into
the back of her chair, her mouth opening and closing around words that she
couldn’t bring forth. Staring up at him with eyes wide and confused. The sudden
smile threw him for a loop.
“So, we’re not going back?” she asked.
“Back?” He paused, bewildered by the question. “No.” He got out no more,
however, because he suddenly had his hands full catching his wife as she hurtled
herself at him. He backpedaled a bit to maintain his balance as her arms and
legs wrapped around him and held on tight, but her exclaimed, “Oh thank god!”
nearly brought him to his knees.
Unmindful of the other vamps in the room, she kissed him, tears of happiness
welling in her eyes to fall silently down her cheeks. Spike, never one to turn
down the affections of the Slayer, kissed her back. He would have taken it
further, but the discreet clearing of several throats brought him up short, and
he reluctantly pulled his head back and coaxed Buffy to release her hold on him.
When she stood on her own two feet, he looked down to see her grinning like a
loon. Then her eyes widened, and she turned away, racing to Renee’s side to
embrace the vampiress. Both stood there, bouncing up and down in their mannish
attire, looking like a pair of kids.
“I’m not going back,” Buffy told her, giddy beyond belief.
“You’re not going back,” Renee confirmed, her smile radiant.
Spike watched as the Slayer then went from one to the other, hugging them close,
unmindful of the tears flowing freely from her eyes. When she’d made the rounds,
she stopped and looked at him.
“So, are we leaving, or what?”
It seemed like that was a signal for the others to grab their things. He shook
his head, wondering why he was even surprised that the others would follow
without protest.
“Guess now’s a good a time as any.”
~*~*~*~*~
Spike climbed down the steps that led to his quarters. The smell of the salty
sea air and the goings on as the captain’s men prepared to set sail distracted
him enough so that he didn’t notice anything at first. But, when he did, his
eyes widened, then narrowed in anger, and he left the Slayer behind as he strode
swiftly down the corridor and threw open the door to his cabin.
Travis stood there, calmly going about readying the room. Spike noticed he’d
already blocked out the port windows so that no trace of sunlight could filter
inside in the morning. Candles had been placed strategically throughout the
cabin to provide lighting.
“What the bloody hell?”
“Good evening, m’lord. Is there anything I can get you?”
“You can get the hell off this ship and back on land, is what you can do!” he
roared.
“No.”
Spike blinked. Then exploded. “No?! You dare tell me no?”
Buffy chose that moment to step inside the room.
“Travis! What are you doing here?”
“Seeing to your needs, m’lady. As always. Here, let me take that.” He walked
around his fuming lord and took his mistress’ bag out of her hands, moving off
to set it on one of the chairs bolted to the floor.
“But, Travis, your family…”
“The others’ children are grown and will be fine without them. I have no wife or
children to leave behind.”
“You’re not alone!” Spike bellowed, uncaring who might here.
“Spike! Stop,” Buffy admonished.
“We’re all here,” Travis replied.
Just then several other outbursts could be heard, and Buffy peeked her head out
the door to see familiar faces trolling the halls.
“You’re going to need a staff wherever it is you’re going. Better one well
equipped to deal with our lords’ or ladies’ needs,” came the reasonable reply.
“You never had any intention of using those letters, did you?” Spike ground out.
“No.”
“And the money?”
“Left it in a safe place for our families.”
“How did you all manage to get on the ship?” Buffy asked.
Travis blushed a bit. “We stole aboard, m’lady.”
That brought a reluctant smirk from Spike. A few of their groups servants were
getting on in years, so trying to smuggle them aboard had to have been an
interesting, if not downright funny, sight. He was going to have to adjust their
plans for getting off the boat to include the others. But, there was no help for
it, and Buffy seemed so happy to see his manservant, he didn’t have it in him to
deny that they could come along.
“That’ll be all, Travis. I trust you have a place to stay.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
“Don’t even say it,” he told the Slayer as soon as the door closed behind him.
“We’ll bring them with us. Now, come thank your husband like a proper li’l
wife.”
Buffy gave him an assessing look.
“Right…maybe not so proper then.”
~*~*~*~*~
They lay there sometime later, Buffy half draped over Spike while he ran one
hand up and down along her bare back.
“Will you be able to do it? Watch them grow older and die off, one by one? Tell
me now, or I’ll leave them with the crew.”
Buffy nodded around the lump in her throat. She knew he was deliberately
painting a grim picture, perhaps to spare her further pain in the future.
“They wanted to come. It’s what they know. They’re like family, Spike.”
“All right, pet. Now, let me up. I need to speak with a few of the others and
work out how we’re going to do this.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead and
disentangled himself from the Slayer, rising from the bed to get dressed. His
hands closed over his discarded clothes and he pulled them on quickly and walked
towards the door.
“Get some sleep. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She nodded, laying her head back against the pillow. Sleeping deeply until the
blast from a cannon shot and the subsequent shudder from the ship, woke her from
a sound sleep.
Seconds later, the door burst open and a harried Spike rushed inside.
“Get dressed, luv. We gotta go.”
Buffy jumped out of bed and pulled on the dress she’d been wearing earlier as
the ship shook again after it was leveled with another blast. She swayed
slightly on her feet, and Spike was at her back to steady her.
“Hurry, Slayer. Not much time.”
“The others?”
“Already seen to. It’s why I was late.”
She nodded, and bent down to pull on her boots. Her fingers flew over the laces,
missing hooks, but not stopping to fix it. Wouldn’t matter anyway. When she was
finished, she stood and grabbed her bag, Spike already had his in hand. She
hesitated for a moment, having second thoughts about their plan.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” What she really wanted to say was, “Do we
really need to do this.”
“Yes. Now quit stalling and come on. Don’t fancy actually going down with this
thing.”
The pair raced up the steps and ran out onto the deck.
Chaos literally enveloped them.
Spike started yelling at the captain. Telling him not to fight, that they’d no
hope against defeating the pirates now swarming the deck.
Buffy screamed, and he had to force himself not to let his demon out and attack.
He turned and watched as she was dragged away and back across the gangplank
connecting the two ships. Renee, Esme, and Angelina were treated to much of the
same. He bellowed out his denial starting after them, when suddenly the sound of
a shot rang loudly in his ears, the tiny steel ball making a nice hole in his
stomach as he raced across the narrow board after Buffy. It hurt like a bitch
and he fell sideways, off the plank and into the water below.
Marcus and the others charged after the woman and received bullets for their
troubles, causing several more splashes to follow in the wake of Spike’s. Then
the grappling hooks were disengaged from The Emerald and the pirate ship moved
off, back out towards the open ocean, leaving the crippled ship, and its crew,
behind.
~*~*~*~*~
The alarm clock woke Giles from a sound sleep and he reached over and pounded
his fist on the button to stop its incessant wailing. At the blessed sound of
silence, he fell back against his pillow, rubbing wearily at his temples and the
headache he could already feel forming there due to lack of sleep.
He’d been up late, going through the books he’d brought home with him, without
much success, no matter what he’d told Willow. Finally falling into bed
late, or rather early this morning, and the few hours of sleep he had hadn’t
done much to stave off his weariness.
But, he couldn’t give up.
Giles got out of bed and stumbled his way towards the bathroom. He emerged
fifteen minutes later after a hot shower, hoping the water would appease his
abused muscles and help wake him up. The heated water worked wonders, and he
emerged feeling much more like himself. In under thirty minutes, he’d had tea
brewed, gotten dressed, gathered his research materials and was headed back
towards Sunnydale High. When he let himself inside the building shortly
thereafter, it was still dark outside.
His dress shoes rang hollowly in the deserted hallway, his feet on autopilot as
he walked unaided down the darkened corridors towards the library – he’d done
this so often he didn’t need to turn on the lights to see. He’d left the light
on in his office and the soft glow cast a beacon as he turned the corner. The
soft illumination caused him to increase his pace, eager now to get a head start
on finding the solution to his Slayer’s disappearance. And he hoped he had
something concrete to share with the children when they finally showed up.
~*~
Amber eyes watched from the stacks as Buffy’s watcher returned from the office
with a cup of tea in one hand and a few books in the other. He waited while the
man set the cup aside and lowered the books to the table. When the man was
distracted with that task, he raised the small pipe to his lips and blew the
projectile towards the man’s cup. His aim was true, and the cup flipped on its
side, sending the contents to splash upon the table and threatening the books
placed near it.
Derrick melded back into the shadows and listened as the Englishman let loose
with several blasphemies Buffy would have been shocked that the man even knew.
But, she’d been right in his penchant for books and would do just about anything
to ensure their survival. He peeked around the corner and saw the Watcher
shifting books away from the flow of tea, holding an unnecessary breath as the
book he’d needed the man to look through was shifted to the top of the pile of
the ones he’d brought from his office. Score!
His work complete, he slipped deeper into the stacks towards the sewer entrance
that would take him back to the others. All they could do now was wait.
Chapter 54:
When Willow and Xander walked into the library several hours later, Giles had to
refrain from doing a victory dance, of sorts, in front of them. He’d found the
spell to bring Buffy back about an hour ago, and debated calling the children to
tell them the good news. But, his common sense prevailed and he’d decided to
wait until they arrived – it would have been rather difficult explaining to
their respective parents why the school’s librarian would be calling them at
such an early hour… and on a Sunday, no less. Instead, Giles spent the time
returning the unneeded books to their proper location and then settled in with
another cup of tea while he waited for the children’s arrival.
“Hey, G-man, where’s all our stuff?” Xander asked, confused at seeing the table
clear, and the watcher lounging in a chair.
One hand still holding his cup aloft, Giles lightly patted the solitary book
lying on the table’s surface with the other.
“You found it!” Willow guessed. She grasped Xander’s arm with both hands,
tugging excitedly. “He found it,” she told Xander needlessly. Her smile was
infectious and the other two males grinned in response at her antics. After a
moment, Giles coughed, sobering, leaning forward in his seat so that he could
stand.
“Indeed I have,” he told them both, setting his cup aside. He gestured to the
book, opening it to the page he needed while continuing. “And, it’s a rather
simple spell given the use of the Janus statue. No wonder Ethan was able to do
it alone.”
“Giles, that’s great!” Willow squealed, then started babbling questions about
when could they perform the spell, what was needed, and if she could help.
Xander just looked down at his friend and smiled goofily. Buffy was coming home
and they could finally put this mess behind them, get back to the usual
Hellmouth horrors like apocalypses and such, rather than having to deal with
Buffy being sucked back in time.
“Yes.” Giles smiled for a moment more before his face became serious. “Willow,
I’m going to need something of Buffy’s. Are you able to get inside her place?”
The redhead nodded. “Sure. Buffy keeps a spare key with me. Ya know, just in
case…”
“Good. Xander, see if you can locate Angel. When I bring Buffy back, I’ll have
no idea as to her condition, and whether or not Spike will be brought back with
her. I think it’s best to be safe. Both of you meet me at the warehouse Buffy
disappeared from in two hours. I need to gather a few things from home and make
a stop by the local magic shop as well.” He glanced at his watch. “They should
be opening shortly.”
“Come on, Xan,” Willow urged, still tugging on the boy’s arm in excitement. “You
can walk me home before looking for Angel.”
Xander grumbled under his breath about not being able to find the vampire during
daylight hours, but he would give it a shot. Like Giles had said, they may need
the tall, broody one.
~*~*~*~*~
Giles found that both his hands were shaking as he set everything up in
preparation of bringing Buffy back from the past. He’d had Willow and Xander
remain near the back wall by the opened door, just in case they needed to make a
quick getaway. Angel, surprisingly, had shown of his own accord, giving no
reason behind his sudden appearance. The dark-haired vampire had met him near
the shaded entrance to the warehouse, and a glance over the other’s shoulder had
revealed to Giles the sewer grate that had been shoved aside from where he’d no
doubt appeared.
Now the brooding vampire stood pacing back and forth several feet behind him.
Strange, actually. Angel was never one to display any unnecessary movements,
more content to stand unmoving when others were about.
“Will you stop that incessant pacing?” Giles finally snapped in irritation. “I’m
trying to concentrate.” He continued with his preparations, not bothering to
turn around after he’d barked out his command. When he was finished placing
everything just so, he grabbed his book, using his thumb to skim the pages until
it opened to the marked spot. Kneeling down before the chalked circle, he began
to chant the text written on the page. He concentrated on only that, repeating
the lines over and over without relent.
The wind came out of nowhere, creating a vortex near the crate where Buffy had
disappeared. When it was gone, two prone figures lay in front of it. It was
Buffy, at least he assumed it was his Slayer in the long plaid, her blond hair
in one single plait down her back. The other person had to be Spike, although
with his head turned away it was hard to tell. His attention turned back to
Buffy and his ears perked; she was mumbling something.
“Dear Lord! Is that Gaelic?” Giles stammered, flabbergasted when her words
became less garbled.
There was a blur of movement as Angel raced passed him and knelt down at Buffy’s
side.
“Bastard’s bit her,” Angel growled, and he stepped over the semi-unconscious
Slayer to pick up his errant grandchilde and throw him into a far wall and as
far away from Buffy as he could. Growling erupted throughout the warehouse and
caused Angel to stiffen in surprise – he’d been unaware that anyone, or
anything, lurked in the darkened corners. The other three just looked at
each other in confusion at the sudden noise.
“Giles, get Willow and Xander and get the hell out of here and into the
sunlight!” Angel ordered, turning in a circle to try and determine where they
hid.
“Angel—”
“Just do it! I don’t have time to explain. Now go!”
As they others ran from the warehouse, Angel carefully stepped in front of Buffy
determined to save her from this latest threat. The growling seemed to
intensify, and he tensed in preparation of an attack – though from where, he was
unsure. He eyed the distance to the door and wondered fleetingly if he’d have
enough time to snatch Buffy up in his arms and make it there before he was
descended upon by an indeterminable number of vampires.
Groggy mutterings from Spike drew his attention, and he glanced over to see him
rise unsteadily to his feet. He spoke again, this time more authoritatively –
but in a language Angel failed to recognize – and the noise abruptly ceased.
Seeing his chance, Angel reached down and pulled the Slayer in his arms and
bolted for the safety of the door. Outside the warehouse, he singed his hands
passing Buffy off to Giles, since the watcher happened to be standing in direct
sunlight, and his demon made itself known as he vamped and hissed in agony.
“Go!” he growled, snatching his hands back from the sun’s deadly rays.
“Angel, what is it?” Giles asked.
“I don’t know. But, whatever it is, you’re not safe here.” At the watcher’s wary
look, he shook his head, and fangs and ridges melded away. “Look…take Buffy
home, or wherever. Just get into sunlight and away from here. Hurry! I’ll meet
you back at the school after I take a look around.”
Angel leaned back against the brick building and waited until the four were gone
from sight. Only then did he venture back inside the abandoned warehouse.
It was deserted. He knew it right off, but took a quick circuit just to be sure.
Even Spike had disappeared. The only proof that both he and Buffy were back….
the pink pig lying on its side within the chalked circle, a few herbs and other
ingredients also placed strategically within the sphere.
Shaking off his unease, he walked back out to the manhole, careful to remain in
the shadows, and jumped down into the sewers. Bringing forth his demon, he could
detect nothing amiss in either direction, and resigned, started off towards the
high school.
~*~*~*~*~
Giles glanced in the rearview mirror as he sped away from the warehouse to see
Xander looking down at Buffy with concern, her head resting on his lap. He
snatched the handkerchief out of his pocket and waved it at the boy. “Here, use
this to stem the blood flow. The bite marks didn’t look too deep, but it’s
probably going to leave a scar.”
Xander grabbed the white cloth out of Giles’ hand and pressed it against the
wound in Buffy’s neck, silently vowing to get even with the vampire that had
bitten his friend. He saw her wince in her sleep and lessened the pressure just
a bit, not wanting to cause her further pain.
~*~
Buffy heard the loud noise, felt the vibrating seat beneath her body, and
struggled not to panic. She lay there unmoving to prevent the others from
guessing she’d wakened. Their hushed whisperings sounded vaguely familiar and
she concentrated on their words and mentally clicked over to translating their
conversation; it had been a long while since she’d heard her native tongue
spoken so that they’d nearly finished before she got the gist of what they were
saying.
They’d brought her back, and she was riding in Giles’ car. They were going to
take her home to let her rest and then go back to the school and talk with
Angel.
The car finally stopped a while later, and as the engine shut off, Buffy managed
to lift her head from Xander’s lap and sit up. She opened her mouth to speak and
clamped it shut again after the first word. ‘English, Buffy, English,’
she silently admonished. Clearing her throat, she started again.
“Hello.” It came out more like a rasp, as if her mouth had been sucked dry and
shoved full of sand.
“Buffy! You’re awake!” Willow gasped in surprise, swiveling around in the front
seat to face her friend. “We were so worried!”
“I am… fine,” she replied haltingly, concentrating on her grammar. “Just…just
tired. Maybe some sleep? I… I mean, I will feel better after I sleep.”
“Oh. Oh… we can do that. Here…” Willow opened her door and climbed out of the
front seat to open the back one, allowing Buffy to step out of Giles’ car.
Xander had already gotten out on his side and had come around to stand next to
Willow.
Buffy took a tentative step out of the vehicle and would have collapsed if
Xander hadn’t caught her. Her body was still dealing with the aftereffects of
the spell that had been cast, and she was feeling rather weak.
“Easy there, Buffster. Here. Lemme help you.” Without waiting for an
affirmative, he wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders and hefted her
close to his side. Buffy struggled not to flinch at his touch and forced herself
to lean against him as he walked with her towards the front door.
“I don’t know, Giles. I think one of us should stay here and keep an eye on
Buffy,” Willow spoke quietly to the man as the two trailed behind.
“No!” Buffy stopped abruptly, dragging Xander to a halt beside her. She glanced
over her shoulder to see the girl looking at her with a slightly wounded look.
“I…that is…I just need to rest. I will be fine. Besides, my mother should be
here soon, is that not so?” She hoped that was a valid excuse.
“Yes, I think sleep for all of us might be the most beneficial,” Giles agreed,
eyeing his charge carefully. Something about the way she spoke seemed off
somehow. “Willow, why don’t you see that Buffy makes it upstairs and into bed.”
Willow bobbed her head, eager to feel useful, and darted around the pair in
front of her to open the door using the key Buffy had given to her for
safekeeping. Buffy wondered if she’d ever seemed that young and carefree as she
watched the redheaded girl let herself in then race up the stairs to open her
bedroom door. Xander did most of the work getting her up the stairs, and for
once, she was grateful for someone’s assistance. She probably would have
collapsed on the couch if it had been just her.
“You sure you’re going to be alright?” Willow asked, her faced etched with
concern when Buffy pulled back the covers and climbed into bed fully dressed;
Xander had gone back downstairs to wait with Giles once seeing Buffy to her
room. “Don’t you want to get out of those clothes and into some pajamas?”
“No!” Again her denial came out more forceful than intended, and Buffy struggled
not to cave from the wounded expression she was getting from the girl. ‘Just
leave already!’ “I…the cloth is warm, and I am a mite chilled.”
“Oh….ok. Well, you get some rest. We’ll see you in school tomorrow, or maybe not
after the whole time travel thing and yeah, babbling now. Sorry. Just sleep, and
we’ll see you later.”
“Sleep. Yes. Sleep,” she murmured softly, laying her head back against the
pillows and closing her eyes. A moment later she heard her bedroom door shut and
then the front door, too, as her friends and watcher let themselves out.
“Spike,” she whimpered softly, drifting back to sleep.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike was determined to walk under his own power through the sewer tunnels, but
near the end of their journey his legs finally gave out, his body still subject
to the magicks that had returned him and the Slayer to this time. Joseph was
walking beside him and easily caught him, sliding Spike’s arm around his
shoulder. He’d not wanted to leave Buffy behind, but felt it was best to retreat
for now; he couldn’t afford to have his childer’s presence revealed. Besides
which, he knew where his wife’s mates were taking her, and it was a simple
matter of waiting until nightfall before he was reunited with the Slayer, and
they could disappear once more. He’d been more concerned with getting away from
his grandsire… him and the others.
“Thanks, mate,” Spike muttered.
The vampire grinned but didn’t say anything. In fact, none of them did. Not
until they could be assured their words would not be overheard – no matter that
anyone who might be listening couldn’t understand a word of what they were
saying. They were just being cautious. A point ingrained over the years.
When they did manage to seal themselves inside their temporary home, each one of
them waited for the question they all knew was forthcoming from their sire.
Especially given that the vampire knew his wife’s whereabouts, and could
actually see her sleeping soundly on one of the many screens dominating an
entire wall in the room. Sure enough, the bolt slid home, and Spike took in the
vampires present. The next words out of his mouth caused a few of the assembled
to cringe.
“Where’s Renee?”
“She…uh…she’s…” Clayton began.
“New York,” Adam answered, bringing Spike’s piercing blue gaze swiveling in his
direction. He quirked his scarred brow, indicating the other should continue.
Beside Adam, Byron muttered, “Woman needs a mate.”
“And I suppose you don’t,” Esme commented from another part of the room.
“I’m just saying… Renee is different.” Byron gestured vaguely with his hand.
“She…after Buffy disappeared so suddenly it was too much for her. She needed
time.”
“And you didn’t get her before coming here?” Spike asked Byron, ignoring the
fact that his childer were talking around him.
“No,” Adam answered for the flustered vamp. “Byron’s right, Spike. Renee… she’s
looking for something. When she finds it, she’ll be along.”
Spike nodded, though he was not pleased. He didn’t like the thought of one of
his own out there by herself. He wanted to say something else, but thought
better of it. The others were all still here, so apparently things weren’t that
dire. And, knowing Adam like he did, the other vamp was probably keeping tabs on
the missing vampiress.
“Either that, or my wife will go get her,” he finally allowed.
“Yeah. Or that.” Adam chuckled, and so did a few of the others, pleased at how
well their sire was taking Renee’s disappearance. Then he sobered again, telling
Spike, “She’s had a rough time of it. She took both of your abrupt
disappearances rather hard. Buffy’s especially.”
Marcus walked up then, clapping Spike on the shoulder. “It’s good to have you
back, Sire.”
Spike took the change of subject in stride. “Yeah, well, I can’t say I’m glad to
be back,” he told the other at his side, wrinkling his nose at the
remembered smell of the sewer. “Was much cleaner back then….and quieter. Bloody
hell, I forgot how noisy it was.”
The others grinned at Spike’s complaint. They’d had time to get used to
technology’s growth. Spike had gone from the wide-open spaces of the Highlands
to the rank smells of sewage and pollution in the blink of an eye.
“Tell me somebody thought to get me a change of clothes,” Spike asked of no one
in particular. He fingered the knee-length plaid, taking in the others’ more
casual attire.
“Already waiting for you in the bathroom,” Esme told him, adding, “Down the
hall, second door on your right.”
“Thanks, luv. Gimme five. I’ll get cleaned up and then you can report what’s
been going on in my absence.”
Spike ended up taking ten minutes, having forgotten the luxury of scalding hot
water pounding on his flesh. When he emerged, he quickly donned the black
t-shirt and jeans left for him then sat on the toilet seat to pull on his socks
and boots – not quite what he used to wear, but it would do for now. He did,
however, miss his leather duster, but figured it was long gone. The last time
he’d seen it was when Doyle had nicked his clothes and smokes and left him in
that poncified outfit, and he smiled at the distant memory. Throwing the damp
towel over a rack, he left the room and strode swiftly back to the observation
area.
When he stepped into the room, it was a signal to the others to gather around
the table. Adam started off the briefing, pointing out the various monitors and
several listening devices that were recording conversations. Afterwards, the
others went down the line giving their assessments, and when Joseph mention
Angel visiting Drusilla last night, Spike raised an eyebrow, but gave no further
indication that the news bothered him. Finally, Alric spoke, and he discussed
the general overview of the Hellmouth, and the goings on of the various demons
residing in the city.
Not more remarkable than any other Hellmouth, and certainly nothing more than
they’d witnessed before – human or demon-wise. Heck, Sunnydale was a breath of
fresh air after some of the things they’d all seen.
“We do have a possible situation though, Sire,” Alric hesitated to add. “There’s
a new Slayer in town.”
“A new Slayer? How can that be possible? Only one bird at a time gets that
role.”
“I’m not quite sure, but I know what I saw…and what I felt. She’s a
Slayer. Fairly green around the gills, if you get what I’m saying. Not even a
year into the gig.”
“Well, stay away from her. Just as soon as we can get Buffy back we’ll disappear
and she can have the run of this place.” He broke off, his eyes suddenly zeroing
in on one of the monitors.
Buffy’s watcher, her two friends, and his poof of a grandsire were talking about
the Slayer’s reemergence from the past while they either sat or stood inside the
school’s library. But, it was the dark-skinned girl calmly walking down the
hallway in a second monitor that held Spike’s attention. His gaze narrowed on
the newcomer, cataloguing her movements for any flaws.
“Give me some volume.”
Adam hit a button and the conversation in the library got louder.
“…just disappeared. And so did the others,” Angel was saying.
The doors swung open and conversation ceased, four sets of eyes taking in the
newcomer standing inside the door.
“Oh…I say… the library is closed today, er…Miss….”
“Don’t look closed t’ me,” the girl announced, nodding her head in their general
direction, her heavily accented voice difficult to understand.
“Yes…well, er…”
“F-faculty-student meeting,” Willow improvised, blurting out an answer in the
sudden silence.
“Right…yes. Very good. We’re in the middle of a faculty-student meeting,” Giles
elaborated.
The girl just stood there, folding her arms across her chest while she regarded
the small group.
“W-was there something you needed?” Giles asked, when she made no move to leave
the room.
“I was sent to Sunnydale to meet with you.”
“I say… meet me?” Giles’ brow knitted in confusion. “Who…ah…who sent you…”
“My watcher.”
“Watcher?”
“I’m Kendra, the Vampire Slayer,” she announced.
Spike watched his grandsire take a step back and nearly fall over a chair; he
couldn’t help it, he started laughing.
Chapter 55: