Chapter 2.11

“So have you got much stuff to pack?” Tara asked between bites of her burger. The restaurant was only a couple of blocks from Wes’s apartment and he had suggested they stop for something to eat before Tara began packing, while Wes went to pick up a trailer.

“I suppose that would depend on what you call a lot. I leased the apartment furnished, but you tend to accumulate quite a lot of odds and ends over three years, especially when you think you’ve settled.”

“And I suppose if you’re anything like Giles you’ll have a massive amount of books?”

“It never hurts to know about what you’re up against, but actually the majority of my reference books are still at the hotel. I think it may be best if I go on there alone after we’ve packed the apartment. It might get a little unpleasant.”

“All the more reason you should have back up. Of course, it’s not like I’d be much help in a fight and when it comes to magic Willow has me way outclassed, but they don’t know that. And the whole moral support thing is way more important anyway… I hope.”

Wes smiled at the self-effacing woman in front of him. “As you say, moral support should be all that’s required.”

“And if not I can manage a couple of handy spells.” Tara’s mouth formed an asymmetric smile that Wes could only just make out through her hair. “So what about the stuff that demon had at his shop?”

“Well, I still have the keys. I’ll probably try to get the largest trailer possible and we can always fill up any space that’s left with the things from there after we’ve got everything else, and if that plan doesn’t work, I should be able to fit in another run after I’ve done my stint at The Magic Box tomorrow.” Wes seemed to pause as he chewed on his pizza. “Actually, on second thoughts, maybe we should go to the hotel first.”

“If you’re expecting trouble, it could be a mistake to go when you’ll be tired.”

“That’s settled then. We’ll drop the bike at my apartment, pick up my car and then go fetch my books.”

Wes pushed open the hotel door and then held it for Tara to follow him in. Somehow she found it was impossible not to ‘live-up’ to the coat and she moved with a confident façade that belied her normal retiring manner.

Gunn looked up from his position at the desk. “What are you doin’ back here, English?”

“You know despite what your tone would tend to imply, ‘English’ is not actually an insult. There’s no need to let your insecurities get the better of your manners. I’ve simply come to collect what’s mine and pass on a personal message for Angel.”      

Wes strode toward the office that had once been his before Angel recovered from his fleeting bout of humility.

“You can’t go in there. Fred’s busy working on something,” Gunn insisted.

“I suspect that will cease to be a problem once I get my things.” Wes’s gaze lingered briefly on the woman behind the desk before shifting to confirm his suspicions. All the texts which Fred was using as references were his. Leaving those aside for the moment Wes removed a stack of books from the shelves behind the girl, testing their weight before passing them to Tara. As she turned to take them to the car, he selected a slightly larger stack for himself.

“What y’all doin?” Fred asked bemused. “You can’t take all our books.”

Wes steeled himself not to give ground before the girl who had so callously told him not to return to the place that had been more his home than his own apartment. He rested his burden on a corner of the desk to pull a comparatively slim volume from the shelf, dropping it in front of the girl. “On the contrary I wouldn’t dream of taking all your book.” The former watcher emphasised both the pronoun and the single status of the Thomas Brothers street atlas to which it referred. “I do, however, intend to leave with all of mine.”

“B-but, how’re we-.” The Texan flapped in the face of this news, only to be cut off by her boyfriend.

“We’ll get by. We don’t need nothing of his. Just let him take them and get out.”

“But the translation…”

Wes looked over her shoulder. From what he could tell, for a physics major, she had done a fine job but occasional words and phrases were incorrect.

“I think you’ll find that that particular passage has already been translated somewhat more accurately into just about every modern language conceivable. Unless I’m mistaken, provided your employer hasn’t thrown them away you should find a copy in every bedroom in this place.”

“You mean-.”

“Someone is having some fun at your expense. That passage is straight out of the Bible.”

Before Fred could protest or question him further he swept from the room with the first of several loads. When he and Tara returned for the second load, Wes was unsurprised to find that Gunn was nowhere to be seen, no doubt he was off in search of back up, hoping that Angel would gainsay Wes’s claim to the volumes. He was doomed to disappointment. Since the demise of the original offices of Angel Investigations, Wes had had two years to rebuild the somewhat esoteric collection of reference materials. Some he had sourced from the various rare book dealers with whom he had connections, having them shipped from far and wide around the world. He had traced others through his Council contacts, following up leads from one old acquaintance to another as to which group members might have spare copies of the volumes in question. He hadn’t reclaimed a penny from Angel towards their cost, a habit formed over his years with the Council when each Watcher was expected to maintain his own collection and took a certain pride in doing so.

As the witch and the watcher were leaving with their fifth and last loads, Angel finally made an appearance.

“I suppose it would be too much to expect you to leave us the reference materials we need to do our job?” the vampire asked in a none too friendly tone.

“As doing so would leave me unable to do mine, I’m rather afraid that even were I to be so inclined, it would.”

“So, what job would that be? I only know one other employer in LA who would be interested in your particular skills.”

“Very true, and a lucrative offer it was too, but after my recent experiences I decided that there were other factors that were more important than money. As you were quick to realise, working for someone else is less then ideal, so since I happen to be a licensed investigator, I shall be setting up in my own right.”

“You’re going to set up in competition?”

“And if I were?” Wes arched an eyebrow at the vampire, a gesture so reminiscent of his grandchilde that it seemed to Angel he could almost smell the younger vampire’s scent in the air. Then, he realised that he could. It was there on Wes, faint but detectable, but the girl who was with him was steeped in it.

“That’s Spike’s coat… You’re from Sunnydale. Willow’s girlfriend.”

“Former girlfriend, actually,” Tara informed him, her stutter so inconceivable for anyone in that coat that even the touchy subject of Willow failed to make it appear. “Two out of three isn’t bad.” The blonde carried off the confrontation with a bravado that would have made Spike proud.

“You’ve been in Sunnydale. You’re moving back to Sunnydale?”

“At Buffy’s request. It seems there are those fighting the good fight who can find use for my talents.” Wes considered before he continued, knowing that at least initially what he had to say would be seen as sour grapes, but he felt it would be petty not to pass on a warning. “I’ve also been presented with an alternative view of the Powers That Be. It would seem that they aren’t the benevolent masters we’ve been led to believe. In this particular case, I am told, Higher Powers simply means more powerful, not more enlightened or moral. The title of champion may be nothing more than a device to make you their pawn.”

“You don’t know anything about the Powers That Be.”

“I know I believe the person who told me, but I suspect that it will be some time into the future, if ever, before you take this warning to heart.”   

Wes placed his stack of books on the lobby floor and pulled a small spiral notebook from his inside pocket. Tearing out several closely written pages, he passed them to Angel. “I trust you won’t allow your bias toward me to prevent you from doing what is required with this information.”

The vampire was about to tear the pages to shreds without even looking at them, when at a word from Tara, the air around him became incredibly dense, slowing his movements as if he moved through tar.

“Read it. It’s important,” she told him before turning on her heel and making her exit, followed by Wes, who only just managed to get out of view of those in the lobby before his supercilious expression gave way to an old-fashioned grin.

“You think he’ll read it?” Tara asked.

Wes nodded, knowing just how sharp the vampire’s hearing was. “That depends on whether he really is a champion, or whether it’s all about his ego, doesn’t it?”

Tara waited until the car was in motion and well away from the hotel before she asked, “So what exactly did I tell him was so important, then?”

Wes couldn’t help but tip back his head and laugh.

“It was a nice apartment,” Tara commented as the pair made their way to the car with the last of the things from Wes’s apartment. “I hope we can get the house looking just as good for you.”

“I’m sure, in time, it will.” He smiled at the girl beside him. “And at least I know I get on okay with the neighbours. That has to be a major bonus.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re in any position to complain about the biker type across the street, or the demon company he keeps,” the blonde responded with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Indeed.” Wes shook his head. “I think if my father had ever thought that I’d end up in a position where demons would be rolling out the welcome wagon because I was moving in, he would have made sure I never left England.”

“And if you’d known where you would be three years on?”

“It’s tempting to say that I’d forego the whole LA experience, but it helped make me who I am today. I can’t even honestly say that I regret doing what I did. Spike was right. I did what I thought was right based on the information that I was able to find. That’s all anyone can do. I certainly don’t regret the fact I’ve made new friends and I’m getting another chance to make a difference somewhere else. All in all, it’s far healthier than hanging round here taking the scraps of work that Angel won’t or can’t do. No, I think I can honestly say that given the choice I’d do it all again.”

“That’s got to be worth something.”

“Yes, but without the welcome I’ve had in Sunnydale I might have had a far more bitter and pessimistic view of things.” Wes closed up the trailer and waited for Tara to put her helmet on.

“I’m glad Buffy and Spike headed to LA when they did, then.”

“As am I.”

Wes waited until she had managed the kick-start on the heavy bike before he even thought about getting in his car to lead the way to ‘Doc’ Holliday’s shop.

Wes looked at the mangled mess of metal that had once been a set of security shutters.

“Looters?” Tara asked, knowing even as she made her way into the barren interior of the formerly packed store that the odds were against such a thorough job being the work of amateurs.

“I can think of a couple of other possibilities that are more likely.”

“You think Angel’s people might have taken them?”

“It’s unlikely they would think to conceal them if they had. They would probably just have left them all in the office for Fred to work her way through.

No, I’m fairly certain that it wouldn’t be them. For one thing had that been the case, Angel would have been gloating that my texts were superfluous.

I’d say either there’s a link between Sam and Holliday that the military has uncovered under interrogation, leading them to this place, or…” The watcher pushed the “No sale” button on the antediluvian cash register, noting that this was one area where not only were the shop’s original contents intact, but there were also two additional items. Pulling out an envelope that was marked William and placing it in his inside pocket, he left the one with Angel’s name where it was. “…Given the fact it would take several supernaturally strong beings to make that much of a mess of the shutters and he knew precisely where we were when he called, even before we found the little family notes, my money would have been on Lindsey.”

“But why?”

“I suspect at first he was simply checking to see what had brought us here, but when he realised the mystical potential of the items here, he would be quick to appropriate anything which might allow him some sort of advantage.” Wes shrugged. Maybe they could have checked back there sooner, but he couldn’t help but think that given the choice between books and being there to help Dawn the other night, the girl won hands down every time.

“On the plus side, no need for a second trip now.”

“Indeed. With some reorganisation we might be able to get the bike in the trailer, if you would rather come back in the car?”

The Wiccan looked at the boxes filling the front passenger seat and foot well and then glanced up at the almost cloudless early evening sky.

“Looks like the kind of day that’s made for either a horse or a motorcycle to me. Besides, after loaning me his hog and his coat, I kind of feel like I owe it to Spike to make the most of them."

Wes looked at the car with its ponderous trailer and considered the not quite rush hour traffic they would have to negotiate. “You’re sure you wouldn’t consider a swap?” he asked.

Angel stared at the piece of paper in front of him, trying to make things make some sort of sense. He started with the notes he had made on the right hand side of the page.

Right at the top of the list in capital letters were the words “LOVE’S BITCH”. As far as Angel was concerned it was well nigh impossible to dispute Spike’s right to the self-proclaimed title.

Just below this, he had written “claim”. A vampire claim did not of necessity preclude sexual activities with other partners. However, it did mean that since Spike had given himself over to Buffy, she would have to theoretically grant her approval for any such activity on his part and vice versa.

Third on the right hand side was simply the word “coat” though to be fair this appeared on the left hand list as well. The vampire would swear that the scent of sex, Spike and Buffy had come from the girl’s very skin, and since, unknown to him, she had spent the night in the bed they had previously shared, rightly so. However, he was prepared to consider the slight possibility that his senses had been fooled because the scents were simply ingrained into the leather that she had worn.

“Buffy – bi???” was his next entry on that side of the page, closely followed by “Buffy – threesome???” And “Buffy – unfaithful???”. Buffy might have changed since he and she had been lovers, but he really doubted that the changes had been significant enough to render any of these ideas as remotely plausible under normal circumstances.

Next he had written “Engagement = wedding = vow of fidelity” and below that just for good measure he had reiterated “LOVE’S BITCH.”

There was one entry in the centre of the page, circled round again and again as he had contemplated all the different ways that it could potentially be significant. It read simply “Willow?”

On the left hand side of the page the word “coat” appeared again. The vampire was honestly stumped as to why this girl he had barely noticed before, except in a “Did they just say Willow’s girlfriend?” way, would have Spike’s treasured keepsake. Unaware of its significance he had once tried to get Dru to dispose of the ancient apparel, which to a vampire’s sensitive olfactory system had reeked of smoke and soot long after Dru had pulled her lover from the ruins of that church. Both Dru and Spike had been adamant that he would not under any circumstances part with it for anyone but his princess, and even then any loan was strictly temporary.

His next entry was “summer in LA”. Unless it was a trophy, why would anyone alive even consider wearing a full length leather coat in this heat?

“HELLMOUTH” came next. Angel was well aware that that particular factor prevented many other ideas from being ruled out.

“Spells?” If a spell could result in Buffy trying to seduce Xander while dressed in nothing but a short coat and a pair of stilettos, then anything was possible.

This was followed up by the related comment “attitude”. The girl who had arrived with Wesley seemed totally different from the one he had seen (if not actually spoken to) during her earlier visit. This seemed to make the possibility of magic being involved so much more real. Coupled with her announcement that she was no longer seeing Willow, this was doubly suspicious, considering the two had seemed almost like honeymooners in the way their eyes were drawn to each other and the simple touches and closeness they had shared scant days before.

Angel sighed. He was no nearer to discovering what lay behind this puzzle than he was to finding Cordy or Groo or even the present location of The Axis of Pythia. The difference was that he had ways to investigate this particular mystery further.

Somewhat reluctantly, he picked up the phone on his desk and dialled the number for 1630 Revello Drive.

Chapter 2.13

Buffy was thinking that this could rapidly become one of her favourite pastimes. There was something both restful and arousing about watching Spike at work in the kitchen. His movements were so concise and efficient, not to say that they were without his usual flare, but he always seemed to be in perfect control of what was going on around him. It was a total contrast to the bombsite that the kitchen became when she endeavoured to cook.

“Earth to Buffy! Tara was trying to tell you something… if you can take your eyes off Spike long enough to notice that you’re being spoken to.”

“Wh-what? I was listening. I just… I mean.” Buffy stuttered in her confusion.

“She said, pet, that Doc’s shop had been cleared out and that the watcher thinks my newest baby brother is responsible,” Spike informed her as he brought a plate of pizza garlic bread through to deposit it on the coffee table. He snagged a single slice to munch on as he made his way back to the kitchen.

“I thought vamps and garlic weren’t supposed to mix?” Tara asked a question that had been troubling her for some time.

“That does seem to be the general consensus. I mean, to a vamp, the smell can be pretty overpowerin’. Peaches used to have a fit if he smelled the stuff. Thing was, I got into all the spicy food. Chilli, curry, piri-piri, buffalo wings, you name it. Then, when I had a go at cookin’ for myself, I realised that every single one had garlic in. Go figure. Never bothered me, yet.”

“Wait up, galloping gourmet. Doc’s shop is empty?” Buffy asked as the conversation finally permeated her Spike-addled brain.

Tara nodded. “The shutters were ripped apart and the shop was totally emptied, except for the cash register. They left it. And there were two envelopes, one marked William, which Wes has, and one marked Angel, which he left.”

“What about the body and the apartment in back?” Buffy asked

“The body was gone, and they left the sort of day to day stuff, groceries, clothes and stuff, but it looked like they took any books or papers they could find.”

“Guess we’re goin’ to manage two LA phone calls in one day then, pet.”

“Why?” Buffy asked, sure from Spike’s smile that there was more to the answer than just letting her ex know of the letter’s existence.

“Well, if there’s some nasty trick on those envelopes, I’d just as soon Peaches opened his first,” Spike responded with a smirk. “We’ve got a guinea pig. Might as well use him.”

“Spi-ike. That’s…”

“Evil? Unscrupulous? Downright naughty?” The vampire cocked an eyebrow at her, his tongue running across his upper teeth before he went back to stirring the pasta sauce he was making.

“You can’t set Angel up like that.”

“Can’t?” Spike asked in a tone that plainly wanted to know if that were a dare.

The discussion, however, was interrupted by the doorbell.

Dawn dashed for the door with Rogue following behind, barking her head off at the interruption.

“So did the- Wes manage to load everything in one trip, or is he going to have to head back up there?” Spike managed to change the topic of conversation to something more suited for general consumption before Dawn ushered in her boyfriend. Rogue immediately proceeded to try to lick the newcomer to death. Spike tossed his head in disgust at the dog’s perfidy.

“One life, all packed up and space to spare.”

“Hi!” the youth greeted the others in the room. “Dad’s just parking the car and getting Dawn’s assignments.” He gave Dawn an apologetic glance. “He said he’ll be in in five minutes, just that there’s some guy trying to reverse a trailer into the driveway across the street and not having much luck so he’s kind of blocking the road."

Spike rolled his eyes. “Glinda, can you keep an eye on everythin’? Make sure nothin’ sticks, but no testing the sauce in the small pan. It’s got my secret ingredient in. Me and Buffy best see if we can give our new neighbour a hand. Niblet, mind your manners and take Brandon’s coat for him. We’ll be back in a minute.”

* * * * *

It didn’t take long for the two superhumanly strong beings to uncouple the trailer and manhandle it to the far end of the driveway, though Buffy was more grateful than she would have liked to admit that she had the orbs. Soon, both the trailer and Wes’s car were safely parked on the driveway of his new home, leaving space for Mr Michaels' pickup on the street outside Buffy’s house.

Spike hung back to speak to Wesley, informing him that if he cared to leave the unpacking for an hour or two, then he would be able to eat along with everyone else and most likely get a helping hand when people were done.

Buffy meanwhile moved to intercept Mr Michaels as he climbed out of his pickup truck, offering to carry the books and papers he had with him.

“It’s really good of you to come, Mr Michaels, and it’s a huge help picking up Dawn’s assignments and her books from her locker. Thank you.”

“It’s Andrew and, the way I see it, I brought Brandon here knowing it wasn’t an ordinary town. I owe it to him to tell him, but it would be pretty difficult without exposing him to sensitive material. I guess with your help I can bring him up to speed without him thinking that I’ve gone too crazy.”

“We just want Dawn to feel like she doesn’t have to be ashamed of her family and their friends. She was pretty disappointed when we wouldn’t let her bring him to our engagement party because some of the other guests were demons. Since then, from what we’ve seen, we think Brandon will probably take our friends as he finds them. We think he’s earned a degree of trust, and it’s not fair to him if he’s going to find himself in certain situations because he’s dating my sister for him not to have any understanding of what’s happening. And, Dawn’s got an invite to a party tomorrow night and she wants to take him. But, I guess before we get that far we get to have dinner. And by the way, I’d pass on Spike’s ‘special’ sauce, unless you’re keen on pig’s blood.”

Spike gave a derisive snort and Buffy turned to find that he and Wesley were just behind them. “As if I’d offer my special recipe to just anyone. That’d be right.”

“It didn’t stop you getting Dawn to taste it.”

“Served her right for putting extra salt in the other sauce before it had reduced down.”

“I sometimes wonder which one is older, him or Dawn.” Buffy commented. “Sometimes they make me feel about a thousand. You must feel the same living alone with a sixteen-year-old.”

“Well, I would, if it weren’t for the fact that Brandon’s eighteen.”

There was a sighing as Spike drew in a huge breath, but instead of bellowing like he wanted to, he exhaled again quietly. “That girl is going to be the death of me. So help me, if she knew he was three years older and didn’t even tell us I am going to…” Spike paused, his eyes looking heavenward for inspiration as his nails bit into his palms.

“Yell at her for five minutes and then end up cuddling on the back porch?” Buffy suggested.

Spike hunched his shoulders. “Probably. Come on, if we don’t get back in there, Bit’ll feed all the garlic bread to that bloody dog. He is in her year at school, though, right?”

“Yes,” Brandon’s father agreed. “What with getting dragged all over between me and his mom they ended up placing him a couple of years behind most kids his age.”

“Well, at least she didn’t flat out lie about it, then. That’s something, I suppose.”

“Spike, we’re hardly in a position to complain.” Buffy tried to make a case for the defence.

“No, you and his serene Angelicness were in no position to complain. We are two adults. There’s a world of difference.” Spike turned to Brandon’s father. “Look, actually, against my better judgement, I quite like the kid, though I’d never tell him to his face. I can’t say I’m happy about the age difference, but I can see that in his position it’s probably difficult to find common ground with girls his own age who’re looking to go off to college, but if he does anything to encourage my Bit to grow up too fast, I will tar the living daylights out of him. I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from.”

“I think any father would.”

“Right then. Welcome to Casa Summers.” Spike pushed open the front door of the house and stepped back to let Wes and Mr Michaels through ahead of him and Buffy.

* * * * *

The meal passed with a nervous anticipation as everyone waited for the main entertainment for the night, or rather everyone except Brandon. Even the teenager was aware of the tension in the air, however. For once, Dawn was eagerly clearing away plates, almost before people had finished with them in her effort to have the meal over as soon as possible, only to be thwarted when Spike announced that dessert would be another ten minutes.

Finally, everyone had had their share of baked Alaska with fresh raspberries and then coffee, and Spike excused himself for long enough to top up the nicotine in his system before “the talk”. Buffy helped her sister and Tara to clear the table, leaving Wes to entertain their other guests for a few minutes. When she slipped onto the porch to wrap her arms around her vampire from behind, he simply sighed and leaned into her touch.

“So, you're happy with what we all discussed earlier? No last minute second thoughts?” Spike confirmed the limits of just how much information the group were currently prepared to share with the Michaels men.

“Nope. For now, at least.”

“You do know that Bitty could probably carry this off better than either of us?” 

“Rogue could probably carry it off better than either of us, but since we didn’t brief Wes, we’re all we’ve got unless you fancy making Tara do it.”

“I guess not. Think she’ll float a pencil or something to help make the point when we tell him about magic?” Spike threw his half-smoked cigarette across the yard and turned within the circle of Buffy’s arms, a gentle hand pushing her hair back from her forehead so that he could press his lips against her temple.

“If you ask her nicely,” Buffy assured him. “I think she might.”

The vamp pulled back from her embrace, tilting his head to either side until his neck clicked and then he rolled his shoulders back, straightening to his full height. “Okay, love. I guess it’s time to do this.” He took a deep breath and made his way back through the kitchen to where their guests were now congregated in the living room, drawing Tara and Dawn from their kitchen chores en route. “The dishes will still be there in the morning, ladies. Time for Doctor Spike and his travelling medicine show. Performances twice daily, Monday through Friday and three times a day on weekends.” All of a sudden the bombast of Spike at his evil best was back with a vengeance. Buffy didn’t even complain as Spike lit a fresh cigarette one-handed as he swaggered into the living room with his other arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

Tara took up position in an armchair flanking the blonde couple as they took centre stage in front of the fireplace. Dawn moved Rogue out of the way so she could sit next to Brandon on the sofa.

“Alright, kiddies. Time for show and tell. Who here believes in magic, real magic not David Copperfield, Siegfried and Roy bullshit?”

Tara tentatively raised her hand, Dawn raised the hand that wasn’t attached to one of Brandon’s like an arrow, Wes raised a casual forearm from the arm of his armchair and Anya nodded her head emphatically. Brandon looked around the occupants of the room as if they had all sprouted extra heads, finally turning to where his father sat beside him.

Spike gave Mr Michaels a sardonic glance. “Guess you didn’t tell him what happened while he was unconscious at the hospital, then?”

Mr Michaels tilted his head on one side, raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “He thought he must have got hit on the head and imagined being shot. I couldn’t really come up with a better explanation. I guess later tonight I’ll tell him the truth.” Brandon looked at his father as if he were speaking some strange foreign language.

“But I did get hit on the head. I have the lump… What’s going on here?”

“I guess we have a sceptic in the house, so maybe it’s time for a little history lesson. This little burg wasn’t always known as Sunnydale. The first settlers here were Spanish. They called it Boca del Infierno. How’s your Spanish, Brandon? You know what that means?” The vampire raised a questioning eyebrow.

“The Mouth of Hell?” the teenager asked, still unsure where this was going.

“Well, I guess the education system isn’t totally up shit creek. So, back in the day the locals called this place the mouth of hell. These days the Anglos stick a pretty name on it, and try to pretend they don’t know what happens here. Sunnydale, sounds like some nice leafy meadow where it only rains if the people living there give their permission, but there are some of us who remember the real name, some of us know that the forces of magic, good and evil, are stronger here than almost anywhere else on the planet.

Glinda, care to give our guest a demonstration? Doesn’t have to be big or flash, just a little something he can’t explain away.”

Tara shrugged and levitated an ashtray from a side table to hover in mid-air by Spike’s hand. The vampire’s cheek muscles tightened on one side as his eyes gleamed with amusement at the witch’s choice of demonstration. He moved his cigarette to his mouth drawing deeply on it and incidentally freeing his hand to take the ashtray from the air and place it within easy reach on the mantelpiece. He drew the cigarette from his mouth and flicked the sizeable quantity of ash that had accumulated at its tip into the receptacle. “Thanks, pet, couldn’t drop ash on Joyce’s rugs.”

Brandon looked from Tara to the vampire, and then at all the faces around the room, seeing that he and his father were the only people in the room who didn’t seem to regard floating ashtrays as a run of the mill part of life.

“I think we finally have his attention, Niblet. Better hold on tight to that hand of his or he might be about to make a run for it.

“See, the thing is, it’s not just magic that’s stronger. There’s an energy to the Hellmouth. It draws to it those demons and creatures of the night who have evil in their blood. I mean, compared with humans there really aren’t that many demons in the world. Some of them live in seclusion in the forests, in the mountains, in the seas where they don’t have to deal with the ever spreading tide of humanity. These guys, they don’t bother anybody. They live their lives and some of them probably have never even heard of the Hellmouth.

No, the ones who come here are the vampires an' the other evil bastards, the ones who want to open up the Hellmouth and destroy the world. You don’t find too many friendly demons in Sunnydale. To most of them, human equals food or prey of one type or another.” He let his gaze travel slowly up Buffy’s body. “Or most humans… Wes, I think this would be your cue. You know the speech we’re lookin’ for.”

Wes gave a sardonic smile at being drawn into the carnival, but at the same time the speech was one he had learned by heart in childhood and never yet had the opportunity to use. He didn’t so much speak the words as orate, but his amusement at Spike’s overblown production number never left his eyes.

“Into each generation a Slayer is born, one girl in all the world, a Chosen One, one born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil.”

Spike took a last draw on his cigarette as the watcher spoke, stubbing it out as he neared the end. “So, one girl, in the whole damn world. Why, you say, are we even bothering with this? Chances are she’s off in the Philippines or sipping wine in Paris. No such luck. See, that one girl is right here in front of you. She’s got the strength, she’s got the skill, she’s got the sacred duty and she's also, like it or not, got us.

She’s got Watchers, guys like Wes here, big with the languages and the demon lore and she’s got Anya here, who probably knows even more about demons than Wes does, seein’ as how she was one for a little over a thousand years, so you know who to speak to when you’re havin’ problems with your history assignments.

She’s got Glinda an’ Red with their magic. An’ she’s got me.” Spike finally shifted into game face. “I watch her back. Actually, I watch as much of her as I can any chance I get, but you’ve probably already noticed that.” Spike gave a rueful smile and extended a hand toward the younger Summers, slipping back into his human visage as he did so. Dawn released her grip on Brandon's hand and rose to her feet, slipping under the outstretched limb and wrapping an arm behind his waist. Her changed position gave her the perfect view of Brandon's shocked face and she smiled softly at him, mouthing the words, "It's okay. Promise."

In contrast, Spike gave a deliberately unsettling grin before continuing in his oratory. “Now you know why I'm not about to insist that Buffy here demonstrates her demon-slaying talents for you. So, this all brings us to the stuff that Bitty here really wants us to tell you. Like I say, most of the demons hereabouts aren’t exactly nice guys. Hell, I’m not a nice guy, but there are a few who are. Bit’s got an invite to a party tomorrow night, and she’s kind of hopin’ that you’ll accept what we’ve told you, and that you’ll act as her escort for the event so you can meet some of our friends.

There’s one other thing she wanted explainin’. She didn’t feel right ‘bout the fact you’ve leapt to some conclusions that might not necessarily be the right ones.

Last year, we ran across some trouble in the form of a hellbitch called Glory. She decided to use the Niblet here as a sacrifice in this big ritual she had all set up. Buffy, bein’ Buffy, showed up in the nick of time and saved the day, but you get someone who’s lost their marbles or someone with second sight an’ to them Bitty here looks like a great green light. To us, she’s the same annoying smartass she always was.” Spike’s teasing grin took the sting out of his words. “People like the woman who kidnapped her see her as… Well, who knows how their minds work? But if anyone or anything is different from them, as far as they’re concerned, it’s fair game to treat them however they want. Sometime, Bit or your dad will explain why I have my own little grudge against people like her, but that’s beside the point.

If you think Bit here looks like an angel, then no one in this room with the possible exception of the lady herself is likely to argue with you. Personally, I feel that way about every woman in the room. They’re all something special.

Now, I know this is a hell of a lot to take in, but what I want you to really understand is the amount of trust that we’re putting in you. In a lot of ways, we’ve just put ourselves at your mercy. I just hope I read you right and Dawn read you right.

Bit, there’s some sodas in the fridge. I reckon maybe you might want to take your fella out to the back porch so he can see the stars while he thinks his big thoughts. Help him keep things in perspective. See if you can answer any questions he's got, within reason. But just remind him if he tries to run off that we're holdin' his dad hostage an' it's a long walk home.

So, Andrew, fancy a beer?” 

Chapter 2.14

Tara volunteered to fetch the beers that were left in the fridge. Spike sank into the armchair that she vacated and pulled Buffy down into his lap.

“Thanks for steppin’ in to give us a hand there, slayer!” he groused doing his best to sound ticked off instead of just relieved. It was over, and Brandon and his father seemed to have accepted without question the half-truths that they had been told about Dawn, or at least with no more questioning than anything else he had told them. Spike’s hands drifted to Buffy’s midriff, suddenly tickling his fiancée until she squirmed on his lap.

“But I didn’t want to interrupt when you were obviously on a roll,” Buffy gasped between giggles.

“Thought you’d leave me all the dirty work, you mean. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were being a coward.”

“Nope,” Buffy’s responded breathlessly. “Just an opportunist. And you’re so good when you go all Big Bad.”

Spike whispered something in Buffy’s ear that only she could hear and the slayer flushed red and slapped ineffectually at the vampire’s chest.

“There’s one bottle of the brown stuff and three bottles of Bud. As far as sodas go we’ve got regular Coke, diet Coke, diet 7 Up or Jolt.” Tara’s voice carried through from the kitchen.

“I don’t mind sharing the last bottle of Newkie Brown if Spike wants the other half,” Wes suggested.

“I’ll take the Coke without the yummy artificial sweetener aftertaste,” Mr Michaels told her, having already established that he didn’t drink when driving.

“I guess that leaves the Budweisers for you, me and Buffy,” Anya announced cheerfully. “Problem solved.”

Once everyone was provided with suitable refreshments Wes looked at Spike with a sly smile. “Actually, you managed quite a creditable show with the exposition, Spike. You’re well travelled. From what I’ve read you seem to pick up languages reasonably well, when you make the effort. You know it makes me wonder if you’ve ever considered a career as a watcher.”

Spike head spun toward his fellow Englishman. A stream of words that were totally unintelligible to Buffy left his mouth. They were, however, enough to cause Wes to almost choke on his beer.

“Was that some English swear words that you just hadn’t felt compelled to use until now?” the slayer asked.

“No, pet, I was just confirming Boy-Watcher’s assessment of my language skills,” the vamp replied content that he was definitely ahead of the Watcher on points.

“I believe it was actually an Arabic dialect of some sort,” Mr Michaels told her. “But I couldn’t quite catch the actual words.”

Anya looked over. “Really? What he said was that Wesley should be sodomised by an extremely well endowed camel until his bottom-.”

“Anya, luv, the whole point about saying it in Bedouin was that the watcher was meant to be the only one who understood.”

“Really, Spike, you should remember that vengeance is a multicultural business. Besides, the Arabs are extremely inventive when it comes to cursing. I spent a lot of time in that part of the world. Though, I must say, I did like your bit about the sand storm. That would be very painful and not normally possible without some form of extra-planar assistance. Also, I’m sure it wouldn’t taste very nice, though by that time it is likely that he would have passed out.”

Wes by now seemed to have recovered from his earlier shock. “You know it would have been much more succinct to simply say ‘bugger off’.”

“Very true,” responded the vampire. “But I don’t suppose if I’d said ‘bugger off’ that I’d have got to see you snort your beer instead of drinking it.”

Spike caught the gaze of Mr Michaels for just a fraction of a second before he let his eyes drift to the back door. In the general teasing that was going on, Spike doubted anyone other than Buffy and he noticed the man slip out to talk to his son.

* * * * *

Dawn opened one of the two cans of soda and passed it to Brandon before opening the other. The boy automatically took a sip from the can in his hand, but he couldn’t have told you whether it was cola, lemonade or root beer.

“I know it’s a bit of a shock, and I’m guessing I should have held out for a year or two if I was going for the ‘I’m so in love with you I don’t care who your family is’ vote, but I really didn’t want to lie to you all the time.” Dawn’s eyes seemed bigger and bluer than ever as she gazed imploringly at the face of the boy sitting on the step beside her.

“You know, I think you’re the first person any of us has ever actually told, except maybe Buffy telling Riley but then he already knew all about the demons, so Buffy just had to tell him the slayer part, but that was kind of unavoidable. You’re the first person we chose to tell. I’ve known Janice like forever and I’ve had to tell her lies and half-truths every step of the way. I just didn’t want things to be like that between us.”

“What did you want? You thought if you introduced me to Lily and Herman that we could all live happily ever after?

Why am I even answering you?” The boy dropped his head and ran a hand through his hair, wincing slightly when it came to the bump on the back of his head.

“What? I’m still the same person I was an hour ago when you were playing footsie under the table.”

But Dawn’s words weren’t to be heard by the boy. “No, you’re not Dawn. You’re just a figment of my imagination. Dawn’s real. She has a real family not some bunch of comic book superhero rejects and Halloween boogey men. Dad always said I should read more ‘proper’ books and less of the Forbidden Planet crap.”

“Hey, Buffy and Spike are not rejects. If it weren’t for them you would be in hell several times over.” Dawn grasped the back of his neck and used it to pull his face in towards hers, kissing him forcefully to cut off his objections, not releasing him until he began to respond to her. “Did that feel like some figment of your imagination? ‘Cause if it did I want to swap dreams with you.”

“Look, Dawn, whatever you are… The simple truth is demons aren’t real. Magic isn’t real. I know this. I’ve known this, well, maybe not my whole life, but it’s a good few years since I gave up on Santa Claus. My father definitely knows this. So, if I can feel the great big painful lump on my head and I’m seeing my dad going along quite happily with a bunch of wackos trying to tell me that every fairy tale and dime store horror novel bad guy I ever heard of is living right next to me, I’m going to take the option where I believe it’s the concussion talking.”

“And you know what? In any other town, that would go down just fine, but in this town that sort of thinking can get you killed, because while you’re thinking, ‘this can not be happening’ some vampire will be chowing down on your neck.

Haven’t you ever thought it was weird that all the cabs in Sunnydale disappear when it gets dark? No one will do it. They know that sooner or later they’ll end up food for some vampire who decided to order in.

Have you wondered why your dad’s paying out five times the old amount for life insurance since you moved? The only reason we don’t top Washington on the per capita murder rate is that if someone gets vamped and staked then there’s a convenient lack of bodies. Also, not much in the way of bodies when a giant snake decides the graduating class should be his lunch and the whole school pretty much gets blown up along with him.”

“She’s right, son.” Brandon started at the sound of his father’s voice behind him. “It’s part of why I was asked to come here.”

“That’s ridiculous,” the youth snapped back at his father.

“Dawn,” the older man suggested. “I think you might want to go inside in case Brandon says something he might regret later. It’s not really you he’s angry with, but I don’t think he’s seeing things too clearly at the minute.”

Mr Michaels waited until Dawn had moved into the house and took her place on the step next to his son. Dawn pressed her ear to the kitchen door trying to work out whether they had just made a huge mistake.

“How could you bring me here? How could you get me involved in all this and not even warn me?” Brandon shouted at his father.

“How could I warn you? What could I have said that would have made you believe me, rather than ringing up your mom and telling her I belonged in Bellevue?”

“You could have at least tried. I just can’t believe you knew all this and you still brought me here.”

“I warned you as best I could, told you to be real careful especially after dark. You know how to look after yourself. I just never thought until you picked that girl to ask to the dance that you could possibly end up in so deep. Even then, I never thought that the people involved would kill a kid just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Well, I guess you thought wrong. So tell me, dad, just who were these people that you misread so much?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. If, however, you were to find out by some other means, I guess there’s not much I could do about it.” Mr Michaels looked toward the door that was closed behind them.

“So it’s up to them to tell me that as well? How about what did happen in that hospital, ‘cause come to think of it, it’s the first concussion I’ve picked up where they put me on a drip.”

“Well, you were right when you thought you were shot. You lost a lot of blood and the bullet was lodged too close to your heart for them to risk operating. The doctors had pretty much given up hope, but then Miss Summers showed up with her friends, and from what I gather, Miss Rosenberg drew energy from myself and the others, which she then used to magically remove the bullet and heal the wound as if it had never been there.”

“So, a fatal bullet wound, they make like it never happened, but a bump on the head is beyond them?” Brandon ranted.

“Apparently so. It appears the workings of the brain and magic don’t mix particularly well. Miss Rosenberg thought it was best to let the head injury heal in its own time.”

“But playing hocus pocus with my vital organs, that’s okay by you?”

“Brandon, they were the only chance you had. I’d have tried anything if it meant I could keep you alive. Your mom was sitting in an airport before I could tell her that you were going to make it through. Can you imagine how that felt having to tell your mom while she was thousands of miles away that her son would probably be dead before she could even get here?”

“No, I probably can’t, which again begs the question, what the fuck are we doing here.”

“I really can’t tell you that, son. You know who asked me to come. That should tell you how important it is.”

“I’m sick of this damn military, need-to-know bullshit, dad. You quit the army when I was about two, but you still jump every time that guy has some favour he can’t find any other schmuck to do. Well, in my book, this was one damn favour too many.” The boy pushed away from the porch, and set off full pelt, making his way through the bushes at the far end of the yard as if they weren’t there, heedless of cuts and scratches.

While his father was still recovering from his surprise at the boy’s abrupt departure, the kitchen door was pulled open and two figures exited, each pulling on a long, leather coat as they ran in the same direction as Brandon.

“We’ll make sure he gets home okay,” Buffy shouted as she and Spike left, both hurdling the bushes with ease.

* * * * *

“If we want to get to see Micro Bit tonight, this is goin’ to have to be a retrieval rather than just waitin’ the boy out an’ keepin’ an eye on him to make sure there aren’t any other Big Bads around.”

“I know. I just don’t know which way I want to play it. I don’t want to disappoint Rosa, but if we screw this up… I don’t know what we should do.”

Spike gave a humourless laugh and pointed to indicate that Buffy should angle slightly to the left of their current course. The scent of Brandon’s blood from his various abrasions guided the vampire through backyards and alleys as clearly as if it were an illuminated highway. “That makes two of us.”

* * * * *

Brandon’s trail had followed the same alley for a couple of minutes now. If he didn’t change direction soon his route was going to take him straight to the Greyhound bus depot. Buffy knew this. What worried her was the possibility that Brandon might know, as well. Could he possibly be planning to just hop the next bus out of Sunnydale, or had he just got too tired to keep cutting through people’s yards? How far could he get on just the cash he had in his pockets?

‘And this kid seriously ought to be trying out for track. Definite scholarship possibilities,’ Buffy thought.

“Think he-?” Buffy slowed to a halt, puzzled to realise that even though she hadn’t been running flat out, Spike had dropped behind. It only took him seconds to catch up, but she could tell even as he approached that something was wrong.

“What’s up?”

“S’ nothin’, slayer. Just a stitch. Guess vampires aren’t meant to eat that much human food an’ then go for a run straight after.”

“Has this happened before?”

“No. But then I’ve never pigged out on brown ale, pasta and ice cream and then tried to run a marathon either.” Spike nodded in the direction they had been running. “Go find the kid. Keep an eye on him. I’ll catch up with you at the depot. He’s just takin’ the path of least resistance. He’s getting’ tired. If the trail veers off I’ll find him and bring him to you. Okay?”

“Sure?”

“Go on, love. Before he finds himself in more trouble than he’s already in for insultin’ my slayer.”

Buffy turned to go after the boy, but spun back again to press a ferocious kiss to the stunned vampire’s lips. As she finally did take off at speed Spike called after her. “What was that for?”

She turned to face him again walking backwards as she replied. “I’m making sure you’ve got plenty of incentive to keep yourself in one piece till you catch up.” She blew him a final kiss and then turned on her heel once more and ran as fast as she could for the bus depot.

* * * * *

“You got any spare change, son? Buy an old man some coffee.”

Brandon was doubtful that any money he gave the old panhandler would ever make it to a coffee vendor, but he wasn’t unsympathetic. “I could do with a coffee, too, but I don’t have change. How about you come with me and I’ll buy yours?”

The bum seemed to consider. “There’s a diner two blocks up does free refills. If we went there, I could stay till closing time.”

Buffy almost ran into the pair as they were about to leave.

“Prithee, fair lady, what causes thee to travel with such unseemly haste?”

‘Great. A whole bus station full of people, and he hooks up with Crazy Larry,’ she thought. ‘Guess I’m going to have to play along.’

“My sister’s suitor hath left our abode in much distress and without any word of farewell. She was sorely vexed and bade myself and my companion follow after him and watch over him to ensure he reached his father’s mansion without mishap.”

“I think perhaps, lady, that thou art off thy rocker, for thou speakst of a companion who can be neither seen nor heard, unlike thy habitual companion, the vampire, who ist oftimes more vocal than is seemly.”

“I think, perhaps a knight known far and wide as Crazy Larry would be better acquainted with such a malady than I. And my companion shall in time be both seen and heard, when he ceases to be afflicted by the malady that slows his progress so greatly that he bade me travel ahead, so that the squire here would not fall into bad company.”

“The squire and I were to share refreshments at a nearby eatery.”

“Perhaps you will accept this token of my regret, as he will be unable to join you, for my companion is to meet us here.” Buffy pulled a ten dollar bill from her wallet and pressed it into the old man’s palm.

The bum gave a low bow and raised an imaginary hat. “The lady is most kind.”

Larry turned to leave the bus station by a different exit, one that came out nearer to a liquor store.

“What? You think I need defending from some old bum? I was going to take him for a coffee, maybe buy him something to eat. You give him money and he’ll just buy alcohol.”

“Brandon. It’s up to him. Crazy Larry has been hanging round here nearly as long as I can remember. Somehow, he manages to stay alive and in one piece when by rights someone should have picked him off years ago. One more bottle of whatever is not going to kill him. And they’re what I think you need defending from.” Brandon followed Buffy’s gaze to see a group of about eight youths move from their seats by the wall to intercept a young girl who was struggling on her own with a heavy suitcase.

She’d picked up on their presence as soon as she arrived, but she had hoped they would wait until Spike arrived before making their move. “Go sit in the waiting room. Any of them come near you or anyone else in there, then use this.” She pulled a large wooden cross from a coat pocket.

A block away, Spike pushed his protesting body back into a run. As when he and Buffy had been under attack from Riley and his men, he could see what Buffy saw as she moved to defend the young girl. He knew that while his girl was invulnerable, it would be difficult to adequately protect the young girl from eight attackers all at once. He pushed his body to its limits in order to get to Buffy while he could still make a difference.

Chapter 2.15

As Spike pushed his body towards its limits he could feel the change begin to come over him unbidden, and for once despite the fact he normally kept the demon trapped within, he let its strength infuse him. It was far better to aid his love as a demon, than to fail her as a man. Heavy boots pounded the sidewalks that separated him from his girl, eating away at the distance between them.

Buffy ran for the girl as fast as she could, but she had a greater distance to cover than the vampire gang. Maybe it was time for some taunting.

“Hey! Guess you guys were so caught up in how much you were attracted to Kiefer Sutherland, that you missed out on the fact that a) if The Lost Boys were ever cool it was a couple of decades ago, and b) he died.”

“But after he died he got to stay young and look pretty, which is more than you will, little girl, unless we decide we want a new sex toy.” Four of the vampires, including one who did indeed look a bit like Kiefer’s taller, long-haired, blond side-kick in the movie, turned aside from their original prey to intercept what they thought was a new plaything.

Buffy rolled her eyes in despair. “So, which bus did you guys just come in on? Figure it must be somewhere big, open and empty like your heads, otherwise you’d know to stay clear of this particular town. Iowa, maybe?”

Even as she stalled, hoping the remaining four vamps would content themselves with cutting off the girl from any obvious source of aid until their buddies had dealt with her, she knew that Spike was rapidly closing on the bus station and that his chosen route was going to bring him running over the roofs of several nearby buses to land on top of the two vamps nearest the girl.

“San Fernando, actually.”

Buffy closed the gap between herself and what she now thought of as her half of the group. “And as to me being your sex toy, try using your noses and you might realise I’ve got way better than you to keep me hot and bothered at night. You Def Leppard wannabes aren’t even in the same league.”

For just a second after he sniffed the air, the leader’s expression of equanimity crumbled to betray a look of fear. Then, his mask of bravado slid back into place. “I don’t see any man of yours here now. All that scent tells me is that you like something cold and hard between those skinny little legs of yours. I’m sure we’ll all be happy to oblige before we drain you.”

“Puh-lease. As if. The closest any of you are going to get to my butt is when your dust coats my clothes.” The slayer suddenly shifted into attack mode, fists and feet flying as she pulled Mr Pointy from the back of her jeans waistband.

Without a glance in his direction, Buffy was aware of Spike’s approach as he launched himself upward from a distance of about six feet away, clearing the chainlink fence surrounding the depot, to land gracefully on the roof of a bus that was parked at the edge of the station, his duster billowing behind him. Her sudden activity bought him just the distraction he needed.

Three more graceful leaps from roof to roof and he dropped just behind and between the two vamps that were closest to the girl, snapping one of their necks with a vicious twist as soon as his feet were placed firmly enough on the ground to give him the leverage to do so. Ironically, it was his arrival that caused the girl to abandon her suitcase and flee, having been only slightly worried by the approach of the four still apparently human youths. After all, nothing was going to happen to her in full view of the waiting room.

“Bloody hell!” the vamp swore. “Some people just don’t know when they’re bein’ rescued.”

Spike didn’t have time to check her progress as she ran for the waiting room. Instead, he dropped and spun, an outstretched foot taking the legs of his remaining opponent out from under him before his colleagues could join the fray, leaving him lying flat on his back as Spike completed the three sixty degree turn and plunged a stake into his chest.

After that the remainder of the fight turned into a speed-staking competition. Buffy was all for a bit of fun and banter with her prey, but there was no way she was going to risk letting Spike deal with all of his opponents and then ‘come to her rescue’, especially when he’d kept her waiting, and of course, she had the orbs.

As two of her opponents were dusted in rapid succession, the Lost Boy look-alike pushed his remaining follower into the slayer, causing both to fall to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Reaching around the deceptively heavy vampire that lay atop her, Buffy gave him a hard poke in the ribs with something sharp and tree-derived. As he turned to dust, she held her breath and flipped to her feet, but the glam-rock vamp had too much of a head start and scooped up the girl as she ran for the waiting room, one arm wrapping around her waist and his other hand covering her mouth. Buffy slowed, knowing that until Spike dealt with what was now his one remaining opponent, she and the vamp were at an impasse. A single twist of the vampire’s arm and the girl would be nothing more than an oversized rag-doll, limp and lifeless in his arms.

Even as she walked slowly toward the vamp and his hostage and Spike took his last remaining opponent, punching through his chest to pull out his heart and crush it between his fingers, the couple formulated routes by which Spike could come up behind the hostage-taker.

Suddenly, even as Spike began to circle round taking advantage of the cover provided by various vehicles that were parked for the night, the other vamp sank to his knees, loosening his hold on the girl.

Buffy’s mouth dropped open in shock as she saw Brandon’s head appear over the vampire’s shoulder. The wooden cross she had given him was clutched in his right hand like a punch dagger, two fingers curled around either side of the crosspiece. He had obviously made a valiant attempt, but failed to hit the heart.

Buffy spun round in a kick that connected with the vamp’s head so hard that its neck snapped from the force. However, she was still unused to the extra strength she gained from the orbs. She expected the vamp to be no more than stunned and was already yelling at Brandon to grab the girl and get her to the waiting room.

Both he and the girl were too transfixed by the sight of the vampire turning to dust before their eyes to heed the slayer’s instructions.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Spike landed behind the two. He took a second to light a cigarette, exhaling in a satisfied manner before he greeted both the youngsters in a sardonic tone.

“Welcome to Sunnyhell.”

Buffy launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed her lips to his. Spike’s hands gripped her bottom, the cigarette thrown away in an instant so that he could raise his girl to a more accommodating height. His tongue probed her gum line inviting her to allow him further access. She opened her mouth to him, their tongues teasing and stroking. They were lost to everything but each other in the desire that had been kindled by the fight. It was only the taste of Buffy’s blood in his mouth that caused the intoxicated vampire to reluctantly pull his head back and force his features to return to normal. He let his woman slide back down his undoubtedly aroused body until her feet touched the ground once more.

“I think you cut your tongue, love.”  He reached out a gentle hand to her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone as she pressed into his touch like a kitten.

“I’ll live,” the slayer responded. Reluctantly, she turned to the two teenagers.

“Brandon, why don’t you fetch the lady’s suitcase? I think she left it over there.” Buffy pointed to where said item lay on the ground.

“Hey there,” she turned to the girl. “I’m guessing that you’re new in town. Is someone supposed to be meeting you?”

The girl nodded solemnly. “My uncle said just to get to the waiting room and stay there till he came. He couldn’t get off work early to meet the bus coming in but he said if I was in the waiting room I’d be okay.” The girl’s words were for Buffy, but her fear-filled eyes were locked on Spike.

“And he’d probably have been right, if you’d actually made it to the waiting room, but once Brandon gets back with your suitcase, we’ll see you get there safely. Okay, honey?” the slayer tried to comfort the girl after her ordeal.

Noting the girl’s discomfort, Spike lit another cigarette. “Why don’t you take her inside, pet? I’ll have a check around and make sure there aren’t any more of those guys around. I’m sure Brandon can carry her suitcase to the waiting room.”

Buffy placed a quick peck on his cheek, before he walked off, his gait still somewhat awkward as his erection rubbed uncomfortably against his jeans’ zip. His only consolation was that Buffy’s brief caress had betrayed the fact that her feelings exactly matched his own.

* * * * *

Some ten minutes later Spike swaggered through the waiting room doors. Buffy rose to intercept him, leaving Brandon sitting on his own temporarily. It seemed the girl’s somewhat tardy uncle had finally shown up.

“Hey, good-lookin’,” the vamp greeted her before kissing her on the forehead. “See you managed to get rid of one of the waifs.”

“Hey, good-lookin’, yourself. And yeah. Uncle arrived about five minutes ago, and promptly turned a whiter shade of pale when he heard what nearly happened to his brother’s little girl. Mucho apolgetico.”

Spike smirked at the way Buffy just made up words when she felt like it.

“Any more?” she asked.

“A couple of look-outs who would have done better to be lookin’ in. Nothin’ to bother about.”

Spike looked over at Brandon. “How’s the kid?”

“Kinda shaken, partly from the whole ‘this is really real’ thing, and partly because the second the girl and her uncle left, I bawled him out good and proper for not staying in the waiting room like I told him.”

“Pet?”

Buffy could tell from the tone of his voice that Spike was unsure about what he was going to ask.

“What is it?”

“You know, if you get just the right angle between the processing plant and that warehouse, you can see the back of Marie’s apartment building from out in the lot. The light’s been on in her bathroom for the last five minutes. Reckon she’s probably getting snack-size all cleaned up and ready for bed.”

Buffy looked over to where Brandon was sitting. “Think he can take it on top of everything else tonight?”

“I think it’s what he needs to put everything else tonight in perspective.”

Buffy nodded. “You want to ring his dad and let him know he’s safe and that we’ll bring him home once we’ve paid a call on the way.”

“Already did, pet. Or at least I told him he was safe but that we might be a while before we got him home. I know how you get when Bitty does her Houdinis. Figured you wouldn’t want Mikey senior to be worried any longer than he had to be. ‘Course I rang the Niblet first, but…”

Spike looked over to where Brandon was watching the blonde pair and beckoned him with a sharp jerk of his head. “Come on, junior. You nearly managed to make us break a promise to some ladies, an’ that’s not somethin’ I like to do. As it is we’ve only just got time.” As the boy drew level with them Spike caught the boy’s eye, his gaze not hostile, but deadly serious. “We’re supposed to drop in on some friends of ours tonight. Thanks to our little detour ‘round town we’re only just going to catch them before one of them turns in for the night as it is. That means you’re comin’ with us.

Now Buffy and I understand that you’ve had a bit of a shock tonight and we’re not goin’ to hold anythin’ you might have said earlier against you… much, but these are our friends and you will treat them with the same respect you’d give to any of your father’s friends. There will be no comments about the Munsters or the Addams family or anything like that.  They are all good people, human, demon or in between. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

The vampire rolled his eyes. “Okay, I guess now there’s no harm in tellin’ you that, yes, I am old enough to have been in the First World War even though I wasn’t, but I still don’t look it and I still don’t answer to sir. It’s still Spike.”  

“Yes, Spike.”

The boy glanced nervously at the couple as he matched their pace through the back alleys toward their goal. “So who are we going to see?”

Buffy smiled. “You’re going to see three women that can kill the Big Bad stone dead.”

Spike grunted but couldn’t refute the claim. Brandon in his naïveté had no idea what she meant.  As they approached the apartment building from the rear, Buffy got Spike to point out which were the windows of Lily’s, Clem’s and Marie’s apartments.

“So do you know any of the others?”

Spike nodded. “Dare say as you’ll meet them all tomorrow, from the cat lady to the bug man.”

“What is it with the Hellmouth and insect people? And I didn’t know that you could get cat demons.”

Spike laughed out loud. “Those are just Rosa’s names for them. The cat lady isn’t a cat, she owns one and the bug man is the kid brother of some guy Marie went to college with so she lets him rent cheap while he does his doctorate in entomology, hence, the bug man.”

“I’ve been on the Hellmouth too long. Ooh, did you know that the preying mantis can rotate its head a full hundred and eighty degrees either way?”

“I have to admit that I neither knew nor cared, love, but since you chose to inform me I shall treasure the knowledge forever.”

Buffy lifted the hand she’d been holding to drape it around her shoulders, letting her own wriggle its way around his waist under his coat.

“How’s the stitch?” Her finger stroked his side in a soothing gesture.

“Fading away nicely, thanks for asking.  I was too busy to pay much attention to it during the fight and after that we got to take things at a walking pace and it’s eased right off. I told you that it was nothing.”

Spike led them through a brightly lit alleyway that ran from the back yard of the building through to the front, bringing them out just to one side of the main door of the apartment block. Buffy noted that all the lights were mounted on the side of the apartment building rather than being the standard city lighting.

“Bat sonar drives preying mantises, or is it mantii crazy, too,” Buffy chirped as they reached the door. Spike pressed the intercom button for Marie’s flat, speaking loudly and clearly into the mike. “Marie, love, it’s Spike and Buffy. We noticed your bathroom light on, so I reckon you’ve got a bathtub full of trouble, so we’re going to go see your old lady till you’re ready for us. Oh and we’ve got the Niblet’s other half with us.”

Faster than Buffy’s eyes could see the vamp typed in an entry code for the main door which had always been open on their earlier visits. There was a click as the lock disengaged and Spike pushed it open before it could lock once more. He gestured to Brandon to go ahead.

“What is this place?” the teen asked.

“Exactly what it looks like. A block of apartments.” Spike walked up to the nearest door, his arm still around Buffy’s shoulders, and rang the doorbell.

Lily pulled the door open, her smile full of welcome for both Spike and Buffy as she could feel the air of contented happiness that emanated from her favourite vampire and his bride-to-be. She turned to the confused boy who stood at the other side of the door and then her gaze flicked back to Spike.

“Who your guest, William?”

“Lily, this is Brandon Michaels, the young man who up until tonight was seeing Dawn.”

Brandon and Lily both turned to look at Spike. The boy’s lip trembled slightly before he asked, “Up until tonight?”

Spike answered the question almost as if Lily had been the one to ask it. “Reckon the lad took it as a bit of a surprise when he found out the whole story on Sunnydale. Said a few things as maybe he shouldn’t have and then took off like a jack-rabbit without even saying goodbye to the Bit or stoppin’ to get his coat.  An’ the Lord only knows where these Summers women get their temper from. Must be from their dad ‘cause their mum was a right lady. Bit’s had a hell of a rough week. I reckon by now, she’s probably past the breakin’ her heart stage and ‘round about wondering if his liver really would go with a nice Chianti.”

Brandon’s face paled, as he realised just how rough both the revelation and his reaction to it must have been on the young girl. “Um, has anyone got a phone I could borrow? I left my cell in my coat pocket back at your place.”

Spike passed his cell to the young man as the group made its way into Lily’s apartment.

“Press 2 and hold it down,” Buffy told him, knowing that the house on Revello was at the top of Spike’s speed dial list.

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