Chapter 3.05
Lori sidled into a gap next to where Tara stood with Wes to watch the vampire perform. “Hey there. I didn’t know Spike could play,” she whispered.
Tara turned with a smile. “Neither did we. So far as I know, he doesn’t even own a guitar… but I kinda get the impression that Cutie there, gets to see a whole different persona from the Big Bad.”
“I won’t even ask,” Lori replied.
As Spike finished, tossing the guitar to Giles with a “Hoi, Rupert, you’re up,” Tara turned to chat to the other woman, missing the gentle prompting that Lily gave the older watcher. “Have you just arrived?”
“I wish. I got cornered by the boss about ten minutes after I got here, wanting my opinion on whether we should upgrade to Windows XP or not, as if I’m going to know without ever having seen it.”
“I think that’s what’s on Spike’s new PC at our place if you did want a look.”
“S’okay, I eventually convinced him to speak to the IT team and go with whatever they recommend.” The brunette gave Tara a curious look.
“You look a bit different. I think it’s the lack of a redhead on your arm.”
“We, em, well, we broke up.”
“Permanent or break?”
“I think this time it’s beyond anything a break could fix.”
“I’m sorry. When you get to the stage where you begin taking an interest in other people again, I know a couple of nice women who’re fairly cute, and if you like men I’ve got a younger brother who’s just transferred to UC Sunnydale for his final year.”
Tara shook her head. “Not into men at all, and I think it could be sometime next decade before I’m looking to start dating again.”
“Don’t you know? Romance only comes along when you don’t expect it. It’s a statistical impossibility to find a decent guy, well, partner, when you’re looking for one. As soon as you decide you’re off the market… up comes Mr or Ms Right.
Isn’t that right, Wes?”
“What? I’m sorry. I didn’t catch what you were saying.” Wes drew his attention away from where Giles was singing, ‘Love the One You’re With’, apparently inspired by Spike’s foray into the works of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. The younger Watcher was beginning to feel that there was a conspiracy against him, which was only confirmed when Lori repeated her question.
“I was saying to Tara that it’s generally when you swear off love that you finally meet ‘The One’?”
“I’m afraid as a bachelor, I can’t really comment.”
“Not even any near misses?”
“That would very much depend on how you look at it,” Wes replied thinking of the night, not even a year ago when all the AI staff except Lorne had attended the ballet. “I think maybe I missed my chance.”
Having seen how the former watcher’s glance had strayed in Fred’s direction whenever he wasn’t otherwise occupied during the long hours while they had waited for Lorne to be rescued, not to mention the obvious tension between him and Gunn, Lori’s words weren’t really a stab in the dark. “My mom used to say that dating’s like opening up one of those parcels where you’ve got boxes inside boxes and layers and layers of wrapping. The more layers you get off, the better chance you have of guessing what’s in there, but you never know till you get to the final layer of gift-wrap and open it on up whether it’s gonna be something you want to keep, whether it’s something good but maybe it just isn’t you or whether it’s something you’d just as soon drop straight in the trash. Seems to me like you might be hankering over some pretty gift-wrap and a nice bow.”
“I think she’s a pretty special package. I just hesitated too long and didn’t say anything.”
“If you’re talking about the twig with the excessively hostile boyfriend in LA, I take leave to quote something I overheard one of our esteemed hosts say earlier. Now, I’m paraphrasing here. ‘She’s an incredible woman, but I’m still hoping that I’ll find an incredible woman whose first choice is the cute, wrinkly guy with floppy ears’.”
“But that’s only fair if you can give the other person the same thing in return.”
“True, but if you keep chasing after someone when you never even got to know her well enough to see her bad habits, you’re gonna miss more than one chance.”
“Have you been talking to Lily?” the Watcher asked.
“Not tonight. I guess she’s been giving you the same advice?”
“You could say that.” The Watcher glanced over to where Spike was holding Rosa in his arms, as he chatted with Buffy and Marie. Lori caught the direction of his gaze and realised that maybe all her groundwork was going to end up benefiting someone else… Then again, maybe this was one of those parcels that held something nice, but it just wasn't for her, and Rosa could really do with some little brothers and sisters.
* * * * *
Bee walked up to the group including Spike just as the vampire was giving the young girl in his arms an Eskimo kiss. She swatted him hard enough on the butt to make her palm sting.
“You could have told me your friend’s name was Rupert. Now I’m going to have to wait till he finishes and go and apologise for treating him like some sort of lunatic.”
“Hey! Trespassin’ on the slayer’s property there, short stuff.” The vampire nodded toward Buffy. “’Sides somebody needs to take the starch out the Watcher’s knickers now and again.”
“Spi-ike!” Buffy protested. “Unwanted images.”
“You’re talking to a guy that you helped force into sharing a basement with Harris. Don’t talk to me about unwanted images until you’ve been around when the builder’s changin’ his grunties.”
Bee cleared her throat.
“Alright, pet. Yes, I should have told you, but are you tellin’ me you wouldn’t have done exactly the same anyway.”
“We-ell. Maybe… but at least I’d have been in on the joke.”
* * * * *
“What d’you say, mite? Who’s doin’ the honours tonight? You’ve got a whole house full of people to choose from. Who d’you think’s gonna do your bedtime story?” Spike turned so that Rosa could see almost everyone in the room.
“Think your Uncle Clem might be a bit busy.” He pointed to where a small group of people seemed to have picked up on the fact that Giles’ rendition of ‘Freebird’ might be their only chance for a slow dance. Clem was trying to waltz with a slim, young demon, who was a couple of inches taller than him and dressed in tight blue leather. Her pale, yellowish skin formed three small pouches on either cheek and her dark brunette hair fell forward over both their shoulders as she rested her forehead against Clem’s. “What about Glinda? Remember her from this morning? Auntie Buffy’s witch friend.” Tara seemed to notice the attention in her direction and waved at the youngster.
The little girl nodded. “She’s nice.”
“You want her to read to you?” Rosa seemed to consider, glancing toward her mother and frowning slightly almost as if she were trying to work something out before she answered. “Want him. It’s s’posed to be him.”
Marie leant forward. “What do you mean, it’s supposed to be him, baby?”
“He was in the picture, reading Willow book.”
The gaze of all the adults in the group seemed to meet over Rosa’s head before turning in Wes’s direction. “Willow book?” Buffy asked.
“The Wind in the Willows,” Marie answered. “It’s one of her favourites.”
“Come on, munchkin. Let’s go tell Wes he’s the lucky winner. Now, if you see any pictures of the winning lottery numbers, you’ll ring Uncle Will and let him know, won’t you?”
“Silly!” The young girl shook her head as if to say that the vampire didn’t understand at all.
“Guess it doesn’t work like that, huh?”
She, again, indicated a firm no. “You need to put me down. If you ask he’ll get grumpy.”
“Well, we definitely can’t have that.” Spike lowered her to the floor and sent her off with a smile.
* * * * *
Wes tried to pretend he wasn’t aware of the attention of the group of people and demons. It was ridiculous. He was actively avoiding a woman who he actually liked, and who by all appearances found the situation almost as awkward as he did. Spike had said that, of her own volition, Marie probably wouldn’t push the situation and it seemed the vampire was right. She had been polite and friendly but she had seemed relieved when her duties as hostess took her elsewhere. Perhaps, she too, was suffering from ‘panda’ syndrome. Wes was definitely feeling as if his whole life was on display, with all his friends and Marie’s watching to see if there would be a successful ‘mating’.
He saw Rosa heading his way, but assumed she was going to bypass him and go to Tara until she tugged at his hand. “Would you dance with me?”
Wes looked down. “I think the song’s just about to finish.”
“If I ask mommy, she’ll play, and then the cat lady can get the old man to dance, too, so she can say sorry.”
Wes looked down and found himself unable to deny the pleading eyes that looked up at him. Certainly, compared with dancing with Marie, this seemed the lesser of two evils. “Okay, you go see if your mommy will play and I’ll do my best to dance, but I’m not very good.”
“It’s okay. If you pick me up, then you can’t step on my feet,” Rosa answered before running back to her mother.
There seemed to follow a brief discussion, Wes getting particularly wary when he saw the blond vampire conferring with Marie, even more so when the vampire gave Buffy a parting kiss and accompanied the young girl when she returned toward him and Marie and Bee moved toward Giles. However, as it turned out, this one time, Wes really was being paranoid.
Spike extended a hand toward Tara. “Marie tells me she thinks she can manage something from ‘Rumours’. How about that dance, gorgeous?”
Tara smiled. “Best offer I’ve had all night, so long as you’re allowed.”
“Allowed and even encouraged. Buffy says she wants a chance to talk to Lily.” Spike smiled and led the Wiccan toward the impromptu dance floor, where Clem and his lady friend were still swaying gently. The vampire held her in a soft embrace, his hands on her back as Marie began to play. Nearby, Wes swept Rosa into his arms, and the girl knew that before the end of the song he would agree to read to her.
Soon, Bee and Giles joined them, though Giles was more than glad to end their sojourn on the dance floor at the end of the song. He found it hard to believe that such a small woman could exert so many pounds per square inch of pressure when she stood on his toes, at least until he got a decent view of her footwear. By then, however, Bee had managed to find out about Giles’ former employment at the British Museum and was regaling him with the sort of intelligent questions he had once dreamt of Buffy asking. As far as the former watcher was concerned, the party was definitely looking up. The only thing that could have made it better was if Olivia could have been there.
* * * * *
“So, has Clem found himself a date for the wedding or is it going to fizzle?” Buffy asked Lily as she gave the small demon a hug.
Lily shrugged. “They like. They hopeful. Is early days.”
“I wanted to say thanks for talking to Tara earlier. I think it probably helped a lot. We’re kinda lacking in the mom area, and I think sometimes it’s good to get advice from someone with a bit more experience.”
Lily shrugged again. “Tara, she already wise. She no need advice. She need friends and hugs and maybe little mothering. You, I think need advice. You look at our William and you scared.”
Buffy sighed. “Don’t suppose we had you fooled for a minute?”
“For while you hide feelings, but William he take ten minutes to go to shop and back, no long time like before.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve got any blood in that kitchen of yours?” Buffy asked.
“No fresh. Just frozen.” Lily got to her feet as she answered and began moving toward the kitchen.
“As long as we heat it up to body temperature, I’m sure ‘our William’ will like it fine. And maybe we can talk.”
It took a little time to find the blood-bags at the bottom of the freezer and set a couple of them to defrost in the microwave allowing Buffy to delay for a while before telling Lily what the problem was. “Spike didn’t want to say anything to spoil the party or worry Dawnie, but he’s ill. He had stomach pains last night and then again tonight and he threw up earlier, so it’s like he hasn’t eaten today at all. I guess there’s a chance he won’t be able to keep this down either. He thinks it’s some sort of voodoo thing.
He’s being all British about it, but I know he’s more worried than he wants to let on, and what if we’re in the middle of a fight or something and he starts throwing up? What if he gets hurt or worse? I know he won’t stay home…”
“So what he say to do?”
“Well, I’m going to try this trance thing tomorrow to see who’s doing it. I mean, I think I know. There’s this guy who’s been asking questions about us, but Spike doesn’t seem to be convinced. After that, I don’t know. I guess it’ll depend what Tara and the Watchers have to say. Spike seems to think we might have a problem in a direct confrontation with anyone who can do this.”
Spike pushed the door open and slid his arms around Buffy’s waist. “Blabbermouth,” he whispered in her ear before nipping gently at her earlobe with blunt teeth.
“She pretty much knew, anyway.”
Lily smiled consolingly at the vampire. “No much go by this old woman. You need to find people who know vaudun, maybe Marie she can help. She still speak to lot of her and Thomas’s friends down in Miami. Many people in Miami from Caribbean. Maybe one of them know someone who know someone.”
“Thanks, Lily. If maybe you could mention it to her tomorrow, see if she can come up with any contacts… I’ve seen the spell or curse or whatever before. I just don’t know if there’s a way to counter it.”
“So what happened to the guy who was cursed?” Buffy asked.
“After a month of starving, not being able to hunt, throwing up anything she did manage to catch, she eventually took a walk in the sunlight.”
“It must have been agony.”
“She tried to kill Dru. Thought she could step into her shoes. She deserved it.”
“Oh!”
“Look, pet. You want to stay at the top of the food chain in vampire circles, you make sure that if someone messes with you, then you see to it that they wish they hadn’t and you make sure that everybody else knows that they wish they hadn’t.
I’m sorry if it upsets you, but I’m not sorry I did it. After that, no one even tried to hurt Dru again, which was pretty much the point of the exercise.”
“So this could maybe be someone to do with her? Someone she sired, or her sire or something?”
“Can’t rule it out, love.”
“I guess now I know why you didn’t want to go straight after Wood. How the heck did you stay alive this long when you seem to spend all your time making enemies?”
“Well, up until I met you, it’s not like I left many of them alive.”
* * * * *
“I normally make Spike some hot chocolate so that it’s ready when he’s finished,” Marie mentioned nervously. “I don’t know if… I mean, would you like some?”
Wes considered for a few seconds. “I think maybe I’d like that…”
He read to the little girl until her eyelids were drooping shut and then he checked that she was still snugly tucked in, before he asked her a quiet question. “Rosa, what made you ask me to read to you tonight. Did your gran say you should, or your Uncle William?”
“Nobody told me. It was just right.”
“And what about things between your mom and me?”
“You’re not ready for kissing and things, but you should still come visit and take mommy out and stuff. She never gets to go to the cinema to see grown up films or go dancing or anything since daddy went away. You like us, don’t you?”
“Yes, Rosa, I do. I think I could get to like all of you very much indeed. I just don’t want to build up either your hopes or your mommy’s and then let you down.”
“Just be mommy’s friend, then.”
“You think that would make your mommy happy?”
Wes became aware of a strange echo and Marie appeared in the doorway, two mugs in one hand and the other half of the baby monitor that lay on Rosa’s bedside table in the other.
“It’s sort of routine. I guess I should have mentioned it. I wasn’t deliberately eavesdropping.”
“It’s okay, mommy. Just tell him.”
“Tell him what, honey?”
“I think she means tell him whether you think it would make you happy, if say we were to start going out now and again, just as friends.”
Inside, Marie heaved a sigh of relief. It was fine for Lily to wish she would find a new husband, but Marie didn’t feel that she could afford to get Rosa tangled up in a romantic relationship with someone they barely knew. If Lily was right about Wes, then things would fall into place in their own time. For now, she was more than happy to simply get to know the former watcher better. “I think maybe it would.”
Rosa gave a contented smile. “‘Night, mommy. ‘Night, Wes.”
“Goodnight, Rosa,” the watcher said softly taking one of the cups from Marie’s hand as he left the room.
“Goodnight, baby… and don’t think I won’t be asking why you didn’t tell Wes about the monitor in the morning.”
“Maybe I forgotted,” Rosa suggested.
“And maybe you’re as bad as your grandmother,” Marie countered. “Sleep tight, honey.”
Chapter 3.06
“So-o-o? Have you had a good time?” Dawn asked as she led Brandon back through the main stairwell into the yard, avoiding the kitchen where her sister, Spike and Lily were talking.
“It’s been … interesting. Not bad… for an oldies party. I think it’s probably a good idea if you don’t mention in front of my dad that one of your sister’s friends got stoned, though.”
“Okay, if it comes up, you took him home because he had stomach flu. What about the whole demon thing?”
“Check on the stomach flu. Can’t really say that other than the fact the guests look kinda unusual that it’s really been any different to mum or dad’s parties. I’m definitely not going to complain about the company…” His eyes locked on her face as he moved closer, a gentle finger brushing a stray hair from her face. “Even if your future brother-in-law is just a touch on the over-protective side.”
“A touch? If that’s a touch, I’d hate to see a full on grope.”
“He cares. No bad thing considering he’s going to be family. And it’s not like he doesn’t have reason to worry… in general, I mean, not about me. I figure it makes you kinda lucky. A lotta guys would just figure you weren’t their responsibility. He’s looking out for you so much it makes me kinda paranoid but I guess he’s busy for now.”
“You better kiss me before he comes to check on us, then.”
“Anything you say.”
* * * * *
Spike sipped blood from a huge breakfast mug, watching the young couple through the kitchen window, ready to intervene if Brandon’s hands slipped into any of the areas he deemed as forbidden.
“There’s no point being Mr Paranoid, you know?” Buffy told him. “It’s not like you can follow them ‘round everywhere.”
“I know. It’s just… I’ll feel better when I know he cares more about what’s right for her, than about lettin’ their hormones get out of control. My gut tells me to trust the pair of them. I mean, Bit’s smart enough. Just ‘cause her sister fell for a git at that age…” Spike’s mouth twisted into a smirk which was soon hidden behind the mug, even though the mischief in his eyes was apparent as he peered over its brim. “But it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather barricade her in her bedroom till she’s fifty.”
“He no mean no harm. He protect her,” Lily told them both.
“You can feel that?” Spike asked.
“No need to feel. Boy who want to take liberty of pretty girl, he go find other pretty girl after he meet you. Yes, William, I feel it. He already love your little sunrise. He just no know it.” The demon grinned at the vampire taking the sting from her next words. “Men, they stupid.”
“And her?” Spike asked.
Lily shook her head as if he should know the answer to that already. “She fifteen-year-old girl. Fifteen-year-old girl, they fall in love five times a week, until right boy come along.”
“And he’s the right boy?” Spike probed.
“He pretty. He new in town. He have bad boy look, like her William. He have eyes like jade and cute smile and he notice her. She love him way before he play the hero.”
“So, you’re telling me that we’re lookin’ at Romeo and his bloody Juliet, here? Tell me why don’t I feel better?”
“Because you her big brother and you worry about her, you know that most young girls get their hearts broken at least once… and you little jealous that some day maybe he take her away from you.”
“So, basically, he’s being an ass?” Buffy asked.
Lily shrugged. “Lovable ass.”
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, girls!”
“Just telling it like it is, blondie.” Buffy wrapped her arms around his waist and nuzzled against his back.
Spike tipped his mug right back, draining the last of the fluid before emitting a long, loud burp that made Buffy wrinkle her nose and pull back in disgust. “Okay, maybe not so lovable,” she teased, though her eyes told a different story.
“Wha’? You drink blood out of a cup, it’s bound to get a bit of air in, now and again. Gotta come out somehow. You tellin’ me old poker-hair never burped in front of you. What was he? Master of the Silent Fart?” Lily took his mug from him, refilling it using the second pack of blood from the microwave.
Buffy couldn’t help but smile at the idea of Angel trying to look serious while he clenched his butt cheeks to avoid letting rip, but she still felt obliged to defend him in his absence. “Old poker-hair, as you call him, never drank in front of me. Not blood, anyway, and now you mention it, I’m kinda struggling to even remember him drinking coffee.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Caffeine makes him hyper, so I was informed,” he told her, his voice softening until he seemed to shake away whatever memory had come to him. “Never bothered him before the soul. Come to that, I’m pretty certain he wasn’t drinkin’ decaff the other week. Must be another of those LA lifestyle changes.”
Lily pushed the mug back into his hands. “Drink. Not talk about old boyfriend. Is not becoming.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Spike took the cup, his free arm wrapping around Lily to stop her stepping away before he placed a kiss on top of her head right between her horns. “Thanks, luv, for everything.”
The vampire turned toward the window again. “Isn’t it about time for Bit’s curfew? Come to that, what about his?”
Buffy sighed. “He’s eighteen, Spike. If things were different he might even be in college. He doesn’t have a curfew Fridays or Saturdays, he just has to call before half past eleven, if he’s going to be any later than twelve.”
“So tell me, how on earth did I manage to deserve him?” the vamp asked.
Buffy just grinned back at him. If Spike couldn’t see that Dawn had found herself a younger, human, version of him, she wasn’t about to enlighten him.
* * * * *
“So when his father’s illness got worse, my Thomas moved back here to help Lily and Clem look after him, and then when I graduated a couple of months later, I followed.” Marie used the Spanish pronunciation of the name that was shared by Clem’s brother and father even though it was spelled in the English manner.
“Is that when you got married?” Wes asked, noting the way Marie turned the heavy gold band on her wedding finger.
“No, Thomas and I, we never married.” Marie covered her confusion by taking a sip from her mug, only to find it empty.
“I’m sorry. I-I just assumed.” Wes stuttered as he was caught off guard. “I mean, you obviously cared about him a great deal, and with Rosa and the ring…”
Marie shrugged. “Thomas bought me the ring. We hoped my family priest would marry us. It wouldn’t have been legal, but it would have meant something to us, and to Lily and his father. Instead, the priest said that I consorted with the devil and had me excommunicated. After that, my mother more or less followed suit. So, I just wear the ring as a sign of our commitment to each other.”
“I’m sure as far as he was concerned, you were his wife. Lily certainly seems to regard you as if you were, and it’s hardly your fault that you weren’t.”
“I’m the mother of her only grandchild. That buys a girl a lot of leeway, a lot of help getting over good old-fashioned Catholic guilt, but I don’t know if anything ever makes it entirely go away.”
“I would have thought it would be difficult to feel guilty about a relationship that resulted in someone as beautiful as your daughter.”
“That’s because you are a good man who judges people on their merits. There are plenty of people who wouldn’t find her beautiful.”
“Then that’s because they are ugly, on the inside, where it counts.”
“Like I say, you’re a good man.”
“And you’re a strong, brave, loving woman who has nothing to be ashamed of. The prejudices of those around you are their problem.” Wesley seemed to consider for a moment before he placed his mug on the floor and looked straight into Marie’s eyes.
“My father worked long and hard to make me feel ashamed of myself for being a disappointment to him. If I hadn’t come to America, I think I would still be trying to live up to his expectations and still feeling ashamed I can’t meet them. No one ever could. I’ve learned over the last couple of years that what’s important is to live by your own standards. It doesn’t mean that when I phone my father that I don’t end up feeling like some sort of inadequate, but I don’t let it overshadow my whole life any more.”
“It sounds like your father is the sort of man who would say that I am a demon’s whore and my child is an abomination.”
“He probably would… And I’d probably knock him out cold for saying it.”
“So? Does he come to visit often?” Marie asked with a smile.
* * * * *
“And you say you have this book, just sitting in your apartment upstairs?” Giles was almost drooling.
“Well, unless the other Rupert’s gone and loaned it to one of his friends. He does that sometimes.”
The momentary look of confusion on the former Watcher’s face earned Bee a lopsided smile from Tara. “You shouldn’t tease him about books. He’ll get over-excited.”
“Really! As if one of you weren’t bad enough.”
“Yes, it’s upstairs and since I haven’t read it for a while, it might even have made its way back to the bookcase. Every so often I do a round up and put back any I can spot.”
Tara grinned as the ex-librarian winced.
“Perhaps you should be a little more careful with them. Some of these texts sound as if they might be unique.”
“No, it’s okay. Pops only lets me use the ones he has duplicates for… at least since the incident with the magnifying glass.”
“I dread to think.”
“There were only three caught fire. It was the ones that got wet when I tried to put them out that got him really pissed. I mean who really wants a copy of Malus Maleficarum, anyway, even if it is a third edition? It’s all a bunch of hooey, but no, he wouldn’t talk to me for hours after that, though I suppose he did have a point about Nostradamus’s notebook, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t still read it once it dried out. It just took a bit more work.”
“For God’s sake, woman, tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m joking. That one is kept in its own special glass case in Pops’ library and I don’t even have a key. I do have photocopies though… somewhere.”
“I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking this, but what exactly does your father do?”
“He’s head of the languages department at a university, but he runs the family business as well. Most of the mystical texts have been in the family for generations.”
“You come from some sort of warlock dynasty?”
“Yep, but to use common parlance, I’m a squib. I turn purple just trying to float a twig big enough to stake a vamp. Besides, I prefer to paint.”
“So you’re an artist?”
“Sort of. Unless you think that to be an artist, you should actually be able to make a living at it.”
“I don’t see why,” Tara countered. “Quite a few of the great masters actually died destitute. It was only after their deaths when their works became a finite commodity that the prices went up.”
Giles looked surprised at Tara’s contribution.
“I’m taking history of art. It’s really interesting… and slightly discouraging if you happen to be an artist.”
“Hence the working as a translator or an interpreter most of the time.”
“So, you’re a frustrated artist, who happens to have the sort of skills that some Watchers would devote their lives to developing, but all it means to you is that you have a means to avoid penury.”
“That pretty much covers it, though my father has been known to bail me out for the rent money now and again, since he says it just means there’s a bit less to inherit in however many years, so it’s more the means to save my pride than a means to avoid starving.
Don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against doing that sort of work. There are times when it’s even interesting, but most stuff that was written a thousand years ago is basically relevant to a thousand years ago. When people ask me to translate stuff, it more often turns out to be some old shopping list, or somebody’s old accounts. It’s not like anyone’s going to hand me a copy of The Lost Scrolls of Aberjian and say, ‘There you go. Translate that.’”
“And from what you’ve said I can see why,” Giles observed dryly. “Other than the fact they’re not called the lost scrolls for nothing.”
“Well, there is that, but you may well find that most of the so-called ‘lost’ stuff tends to accumulate in the vaults of the sort of people I prefer not to work for.”
“The Council of Watchers has any number of unique texts that might be considered lost to the world at large,” Giles protested.
“Uh-huh. A bunch of holier than thou, genocidal, male-dominated prigs who look down on any of their own number not born within the bounds of England’s green and pleasant land, and who would hide or subvert anything you might happen to find if it didn’t meet with their political agenda, even if that meant eliminating the translator. Why wouldn’t I want to work for them?” she asked sarcastically. “No offence.”
“W-well,” Giles stammered. “I su-suppose that would be one way to look at them, but it’s not as if they haven’t done a lot of good over the years.”
“And no small amount of harm. How many histories of their conflicts with the demon populations have you actually read that weren’t written by the Council themselves?”
“Well, none, b-but I’m sure that for the most part the accounts are written fairly…”
Bee snorted, her scorn for Giles’ remark obvious.
“Giles, maybe you should retire gracefully at this point,” Tara suggested. “It’s not as if you haven’t had your own differences with the Council.”
“B-but…”
“Look I’m sorry if you feel my description of the Council sums you up so well that you have to take offence. I was under the impression that you were a reasonable man, capable of intelligent thought, who no longer paid allegiance to the elitist principles in which he had been indoctrinated from youth.”
“Wh-what?” Giles was momentarily disorientated whilst he tried to work out whether he had just been complimented or insulted.
“You’re at a shindig thrown by a demon. You obviously don’t buy the party line,” Tara translated for the flustered watcher.
“Well, no,” Giles responded. “I’m well aware that demons come in all manner of forms, not all of whom are inherently hostile to the human race. I’m also sure that the Council has made mistakes in the past, but I happen to believe that the majority of its members are well-intentioned.”
“There would be far more species of demon who aren’t inherently hostile to humans if it hadn’t been for your well-intentioned Council of Watchers and their kill on sight policies.”
“I sincerely doubt that you can back that up convincingly, and even if you could I would have to point out that there would also be far fewer humans.”
“I can back it up. The problem is that none of you Council types can actually read the languages that the texts are written in. Why bother to understand someone when you can simply annihilate them instead?”
Tara intervened between the two. “Maybe we can just leave the past in the past and agree that Giles was never responsible for Council policy.”
“Well, I can, if this harridan can stop acting like a rabid pitbull for five minutes…”
“At least I didn’t stoop to personal insults, and given our respective ages and your apparent lack of the normal male equipment, I would conclude that you are closer to being a harridan than I am.” With that Bee turned and headed for the yard. Her confrontation with the overwhelmingly uptight, arrogant (and possibly in a mature sort of way ruggedly handsome) Englishman left her with the desire for another stiff margarita.
“I say…” Giles' mouth opened and closed a couple of times as he watched her retreating back sashay across the room like a mini Marilyn Monroe with straight hair.
“Well, you did kinda ask for that one…” Tara gave him a semi-sympathetic look. “You’ll never get to see her library now,” she teased.
“No book in the world could possibly be worth it… unless of course she was serious about that Nostradamus notebook.” Still, his eyes lingered on the small woman, as she made her way outside.
Chapter 3.07
Bee gave a sigh of relief when she saw Lily, Spike and Buffy in the kitchen.
"Spike, you couldn't be a gentleman and fetch me a stiff drink, could you? That insufferable friend of yours is driving me to distraction."
"What the hell has Harris done now?" the vampire asked.
"Not a lot I suspect," Buffy answered, "given the fact that Brandon took him home while you were still on walkabout."
"Then who the hell's pissed on your chips?" Spike turned to Bee.
"Get me a margarita or two and I'll tell you."
"Alright, pet. I can take a hint… eventually."
As Spike turned to leave, grabbing a tray from one of the kitchen cupboards before he did, the blonde rummaged in a small drawstring bag that she carried. Buffy had to smile at the view through the kitchen window. Brandon and Dawn seemed to almost teleport to a distance of three feet apart when they saw who had opened the back door, only to then be ignored by the vampire. Bee pulled out a silver cigarette case and an ergonomically curved chrome lighter, which to Buffy's confusion seemed to light the cigarette without any actual flame.
"Okay, process of elimination…" the slayer suggested, as she watched Spike load up the tray with half a dozen glasses of margarita before topping one up with extra orange liqueur. “It isn’t going to be Tara-.”
“Tara’s an absolute honey. Of course, it’s not her. It’s that damn English stuffed shirt of a Council lackey.”
Buffy’s jaw dropped slightly and then she stifled a smile. “I’m guessing since Wes is still upstairs going beep beep and otherwise impersonating Mr Toad’s motor car that you must mean Giles.”
“Who else? Or are all your friends that rude?”
“We know the culprit, then?” Spike asked as he rejoined the group, smirking at the site of the low-hanging cloud that was rapidly forming around Bee’s head as she puffed away at her cigarette.
“If it wasn’t for the fact he would get annoyed, I’d have to rename Rupert… And I thought the name had a certain genteel quality to it. Not when it comes attached to that man, it doesn’t. Can you believe he had the nerve to call me a harridan?” She turned to Buffy. “Do I look like a harridan?”
Buffy’s eyes widened as she was caught off-guard. “Em, well, I’d kind of have to know what the word meant before I could comment.”
Spike passed out the drinks, one each to Buffy and Lily and two each for him and Bee. “That one’s to knock back and take the edge off, then that one’s for sippin’ while you cool off.” He indicated the fortified cocktail. “Cheers, kitten.”
He raised the first of his tumblers to the small woman, draining it as she did the same. “And, no, you don’t look like a harridan.”
“Thank you.” Bee began to mutter under her breath, but Buffy couldn’t catch the words and she began to suspect that they were, in fact, in at least one of those six demon languages in which Bee was reputedly fluent. They definitely seemed to cause a certain amusement on both Spike and Lily’s part.
“Keep that up, though, and I’ll have to concede that you might sound like one, though,” the vamp commented.
“It’s that abysmal excuse for a man. I should never have even tried to apologise. I mean, it was him who was rude in the first place. I should just have left it alone. Once a Watcher, always a Watcher. It’s people like him who can’t get over the fact that Britain doesn’t have an Empire any more. If he thinks he’s getting to see my Ruchenbach now, he’s sadly mistaken.”
“Don’t worry, pet. You’ll find someone who isn’t just after you for your books… or to cut your hair and then sell it.”
“You’re joking…?”
Spike raised an eyebrow. “Have you checked how much wigs made from real hair go for these days? How soon after he hacked that little lot off did he wait before he broke the news?”
Bee gave a snort of triumph. “I split up with him, actually!”
“Yeah? And why was that?”
“He kicked Rupie.”
“And then you dumped him. How long do you think it would take him to work out that the one thing would follow straight on from the other?”
“You mean he got me to dump him?”
“Well, it was either him or the cat deliberately provoked him,” Spike responded facetiously.
“Well, Rupert did bolt his food and then he was ill over his trousers, but I don’t care what he says they were not Armani… and he did like to pee on the Lotus’s hubcaps… Poor Rupie was jealous. Poor little thing…” Bee picked up her bag shoving her cigarettes and lighter back in and bustled out of the kitchen in search of her beloved Siamese.
The door had barely closed behind her when Spike let loose a snort of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Buffy asked.
Spike looked at her in amazement. “You really don’t know?”
“No, I really don’t know. So why don’t you enlighten the girl on the short bus?”
“Okay, love, think back, ‘round about Thanksgiving 1999. Now, does the way she’s been banging on about the Watcher remind you of anyone?”
“What? Ewww. No-o-o. That’s freaky. She can’t be that much older than me… Eugh.”
“Well, what did you say when he was singing earlier about Red having a thing going on for him at one point? An’ be careful what you say next or you’ll bruise my ego.”
“But you’re…” Buffy paused trying to think of a word that wasn’t going to exacerbate Spike’s already inflated ego. “You don’t look like someone’s dad?”
“And? I’ll bet you a date, where we do anything you want, that Harris had at least one wet dream about Joyce.”
“Get real, fang face! Even I’m not going to give a hormonal teenage Xander the benefit of the doubt on that one, especially not after that mind-reading, aspect of the demon thing, but girls are different.” Buffy pouted. “How can I have a step-mom that’s young enough to be my sister?”
“You already do, love.”
“Ew, Marlene doesn’t count. She’s just living with Dad. She’s not real family, not like if Giles settled down to make mini-Gileses.”
“We-ll… I hate to point out that a pre-requisite for mini-Gileses would be that Giles picked someone young enough to have kids to settle down with.”
“Well, Olivia’s young enough… if they started soon… they could…” Buffy’s face flushed several cumulatively darker shades of pink.
“Olivia’s also in England, pet. And like Bit said, Olivia never got him all flustered.”
Buffy turned to Lily, who had remained silent throughout the discussion. “What do you think?”
“I think they would make each other crazy, if that cat no get him first,” the demon answered with a wicked smile. “I just no know if it good crazy or bad crazy.”
* * * * *
Dawn stifled a yawn. “Sorry. I know it’s still earlyish but I’m kinda beat. I guess maybe I should go see if anybody else is ready to go home…”
“Not a problem.” Brandon took her hand in his as they headed toward the door leading to Lily’s kitchen, their pace about as slow as humanly possible without actually being stationary. “You going to be too busy with all that homework dad brought over for you to go out tomorrow or not?”
Dawn shrugged. “I haven’t actually checked to see how much there is, or when any of it’s due, yet. Maybe I could give you a call, or you could come over, study together and then if we get enough done… go out later.”
“Your folks won’t mind me hanging out?”
“Well, I suspect we’ll have to study in the dining room rather than my bedroom, but as long as assignments are getting done, Buffy will probably keep Spike in check. And strange as it might seem, I think they actually like you.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Well, so far, I don’t think Spike’s even really tried to scare you… well except about the bike and what he’d do if I got hurt.”
“That’s okay… He does it anyway without making an effort.”
“Not enough to keep you away, though.”
“We-e-ell,” Brandon tried to play it cool, but his eyes gave away the fact he was only teasing. “I’ve got to hang in there now at least until I see if this prom dress really is all that… and I’ve paid for the tickets and everything, so I think I might be pushing it to find another date before Friday. And then if I left you in the lurch, I really would be terrified of what Spike would do to me. He knows where I live remember.”
“So, let me get this right. If we ever break up, then I get to ditch you, because you’re even more scared of what Spike would do if you ditched me than you are of what he’s like when you’re going out with me?”
“Yep!” the boy conceded. “Sad, isn’t it? I’m a pathetic excuse for a boyfriend. Maybe you should trade me in.”
“Nah…” Dawn leant in towards him, only having to tilt her head back very slightly to press her lips against his. “You don’t get off that easy.” She tugged on his arm until they were moving again, getting her own back for his earlier teasing. “I mean, cool bike, which you are going to teach me to ride… You don’t wear clothes that clash with mine… Smart enough to help out with homework… I think I’m gonna keep you around… at least until college. Then, I suppose I might give you a few years off for good behaviour, if you just have to go to a different one.”
Spike could tell from a hundred minute signs that the pair would have been quite happy to make out for hours. Not to mention the fact that even if he hadn’t been able to hear everything they said as they approached the door, their teasing tone would have been ample intimation of how at ease they were together. Yet, somehow, the vampire managed to convince himself he didn’t need to worry about how Brandon might corrupt his Niblet. It was only the idea of his beautiful but undeniably clumsy Bit in charge of a motorbike than was scaring him halfway to a second death. After all, there’s not much scope for misbehaving in hospital beds.
“Hey,” Dawn greeted Lily with a hug as she checked in with Spike and her sister. “I think all the packing and shifting stuff’s caught up with me. I was thinking I’d get Brandon to take me home, if that’s okay with you, but I didn’t know if anybody else would want to come, or if you want to stay here or what.”
Spike shrugged and raised an eyebrow in Buffy’s direction, as if he wasn’t bothered either way, but Buffy knew his earlier illness had taken its toll on him too.
“Sure… I could use an early night,” she covered for him, only to find his features forming a familiar leer at the prospect of getting her to himself.
“Why don’t you get the pooch and we’ll find Tara and Wes and see what they want to do and then meet you at the front door?”
“Well, we might as well talk to Tara, then. Last I saw, her and Bee were making a fuss over the animals while they talked art. You go see if Wes has made it back downstairs, yet.”
“D’you think we should maybe check how Giles is getting back to his hotel?” Buffy asked. “I mean he’s had a few drinks and he came with Anya and Xander and they’ve gone home already?”
“We all make space if anyone want to stay,” Lily offered. “You tell Rupert that, Bianca, she has extra bed in studio for her naked people.”
“Pardon?” Buffy’s expression was nearly as priceless as Giles’ would have been if Spike had followed up word for word on Lily’s shameless suggestion.
“Her models, love. She paints nudes.”
All the colour drained away from Buffy’s face in an instant. “Nudes?” She was so going to kill Xander. When Anya had interrupted Bee and her earlier, Buffy had cut short Bee’s explanation, assuring her that she’d posed for a couple of artists that her mother knew in LA, making a few extra bucks. Buffy had thought that Bee was going to warn her about the aches and pains you got from maintaining one pose for so long. It had never even crossed her mind that she would want to paint them nude.
“Oh, crap!”
Spike gave a gentle chuckle. “Been makin’ promises you don’t want to keep?”
“Well, I don’t know what you’re laughing at. I volunteered both of us.”
“Yeah? So I get to be starkers with my favourite company rather than just watch. Bonus…”
“You… are shameless.”
“Well, I’d damn well hope so, pet. Otherwise, I’d be all broody and soul-having like the Poof.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let’s go round up the Watchers.”
“B-but nude pictures of us… in someone else’s house.”
Spike drew her toward the living room, waving the teens in the direction of the backyard. “Not gonna happen, beautiful… Not unless you think we should get a print made for grandpa’s Christmas present.”