Chapter 2.05

"Look. We can climb to the top of that pointy bit there and then maybe we’ll get a signal."

"Buffy, you are not bloody climbing that without a rope or anything," Spike retorted, looking at the near vertical rock face.

Buffy responded by poking him on his right side. "And you’re going to go?"

Spike flinched visibly. "Bitch."

"Answer the question. You really think you’re in a fit condition to go climbing cliffs, but I’m not," she pushed him.

"Yes, I do. It’s a vamp thing. It’s what we do. It won’t take a bloody minute."

"You really think there’s anything that you can do in that condition that I can’t match?"

"I can still get a hard on. Like to see you try that one, princess."

"Em, guys? And can I say ew?" Willow interrupted.

"What?" both the blondes snapped.

"Discussion kinda redundant…" Willow let her gaze swivel from the bickering pair to the top of the peak. Buffy and Spike turned to see what she was looking at. Framed against the full moon, coat billowing in the wind, Angel stood with his cell phone against his ear.

"See. I told you it was a vamp thing. I could have been up there by now if it wasn’t for you arguing," Spike insisted.

Buffy merely rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, right. Can’t think of an argument, just go for the eye roll. Thought you were a bit more adult than the Bit. Seems I was mistaken," Spike taunted.

"Seems to me like, right about now, neither one of you would be winning any prizes for maturity, and seeing as how one of you is over a hundred as near as Angel’s sayin’, that’s quite an achievement," Gunn commented.

"Just because I managed not to turn into some brooding stick in the mud with a penchant for Barry Manilow, there’s no need to snipe. I’ll have you know I pride myself on my youthful outlook," Spike replied.

Buffy wrinkled her nose and looked up to where Angel was still posed heroically. "Barry Manilow? Really?"

"What? Don’t tell me you burnt his albums, too, love?" Spike teased.

"He never had any, least not that I saw," Buffy began before Spike joined in, "but then you wouldn’t let anyone see your Barry Manilow records."

"Even Rupert had better taste than that. Speaking of Rupert, have you talked to his Right Royal Poofiness about the wedding?" Spike asked.

"Do I hafta?" Buffy stuck out her lower lip.

"Course not, not if you don’t want to." Spike turned to where Angel was still apparently talking on the phone. "Hoi! Mate!" Before he could get any further, Buffy administered a sharp elbow in his solar plexus.

Spike sucked in a sharp breath, and then continued as if he’d had no intention of saying anything either rude or tactless at all. "Are you gettin’ a decent signal up there?"

Angel gave those waiting below a thumbs up sign. "Tara and Wes came up with the co-ordinates. We’ve got a precise grid reference." Angel rattled off the numbers, rather perturbed when Spike rattled off the last four along with him.

"Right where I told you lot it was in the first place. But no, certain soulful vampires, who shall remain nameless, wouldn’t believe me, would they?"

Lorne listened to the sound of the helicopter, unable to overcome his disappointment, as the noise grew fainter. In the cellar, the first flames sprang to wavering life. At this stage, the fire could still be smothered with a blanket, or just possibly put out with their carefully hoarded water. It had yet to reach either the bottles and casks of spirits or the canisters of gasoline.

"Okay, people. Sounds like we’ve missed our chance for now, but if that’s who I think it is, they’ll be back. For now, we’d best keep on checking this place out." Lorne took charge again, heading back downstairs. "Is there anywhere we haven’t looked yet?"

"There’s a door in the kitchen that won’t open, but I figure it’s probably a meat locker or something like that," their chef replied.

"Let’s see what our light-fingered friend can make of it," Lorne replied.

The girl in question made her way downstairs and into the kitchen area under the rooms on the upper level. "You really think that was someone looking for us?" she asked Lorne as she drew level with him.

"Well, I’m reliably informed that some acquaintances of mine, including the guy that I was sharing a room with, managed to borrow a helicopter."

The two made their way over to the door their culinary expert indicated. The girl ducked slightly to get a look at the lock before she shook her head.

"I don’t think I can get this one. You’re going to have to break it in if you’re determined to get in there," she told the anagogic demon.

"There’s an empty gas cylinder under the bench there," the kid who had been busy in the kitchen offered. "I could have a go with that."

Lorne stepped out of the way as the boy picked up the cylinder in question and began to rhythmically pound the area of the door where the lock was situated. Making a joke of the lack of effect his efforts were having, the kid began to sing in time to the pounding of the cylinder against the door.

"I’ve been working on the-." The kid never got as far as railroad. Everything happened at once. The doorframe finally split so that the door to the cellar swung open. Lorne knocked the kid to the ground with a flying tackle and the oxygen-deprived conflagration that had flickered and smouldered fitfully, roared into life, sending a ball of flame over the heads of both Lorne and the boy. As soon as the first ball of flame passed overhead, the green demon grabbed at both kids.

"Run." He pushed them toward the main room. He pulled the kitchen door shut behind them just as the first gasoline can exploded. The first explosion was immediately followed by a second louder one, as the rest of the accelerants detonated. The whole cabin shuddered from the concussion.

Lorne made his way to the front door while the other two raised the alarm. Not that even those upstairs could have missed that something was wrong, but the cries of, "fire," left them in little doubt as to the nature of their emergency. Pulling the front door open, Lorne found himself on the wrong side of some seriously heavy duty, steel shutters. There was no way to get at the locks from this side. Lorne frantically scanned the room for anything he might be able to use to pry up the shutters before his gaze alighted on the fireside set.

Rushing over he grabbed the poker and managed to jam it into the gap under the shutters. As he tried to lever the shutters upward, however, the metal bar simply bent in his hands. Yanking it free and throwing it to the ground in exasperation, he turned to find all six teenagers watching him.

"What now?" the bravest of them asked.

"Now we stay as far away from that side of the room and as low as we can and hope that whoever was in that helicopter comes back to check on the bonfire," Lorne told them with a sigh of resignation. He didn’t want to mention that since the room under them was already ablaze, there might be a limit to how long they could stay where they were.

Lorne pulled the phone from his pocket again. He cut in before Fred could get any farther than "Angel."

"Fred? The cabin is on fire. We’re trapped-." The line went dead, and when Lorne looked down, he saw that the display was now blank.

"I can do that trance to see spells. You know. The one you did when you thought someone might be using magic to make your mum ill," Willow insisted. "That way I can see what’s really there and guide them in."

"Don’t you need candles and magic sand and stuff?" Buffy asked.

"Normally, and it would be easier, but I’m pretty certain I can work round it with a bit of time to prepare. And it looks like we’ve got time." She indicated the two pilots who were using an old hand pump to transfer the fuel from the barrels they had brought into the helicopters fuel tank.

"That works fine in theory, Red," Spike countered. "Only I doubt we can persuade the nice people to believe you when what they can see tells them they’re about to hit a tree. And in their position, I can’t say that I would blame them."

"Well, I’m sure if I concentrate, I can get them to see what I’m seeing."

"Bollocks to that! I’m sorry, Red, but your track record isn’t exactly spotless, and I’m not having you mucking around in the head of the people we’re relying on to fly that thing. What happens if they forget how?"

"I haven’t done anything wrong in a long time. Well, nothing major."

"So you didn’t wipe everybody’s memories a month or two back?"

"Well, yes, there was that, but that wasn’t my fault. The whole bag burned. If that bit hadn’t fallen and landed on the hearth everything would have been fine," Willow argued.

"Yeah, well, whatever went wrong this time probably wouldn’t be your fault either. If you muck around with that stuff, you have to take responsibility for whatever happens, not just stand around expecting everyone to pat you on the back whenever you do something right." Spike’s voice rose in anger.

"Anyway, who says you have a right to criticise? I’m not the one who turned Buffy into a zombie, am I?" Willow countered.

"And I admit I was wrong. Given the way things turned out, I can’t even say I’m sorry, but I’d never willingly put Buffy at risk again. And that’s why you’re not mucking around in those bloke’s heads."

Spike sighed and ran his hand through his currently unkempt curls. "It’s not like you need to anyway," he announced in a far softer voice.

Willow responded in like tone. "Why?"

"Cause there’s a rope ladder in the back of that thing. We don’t have to get them to land, just hover close enough for us to go down."

"You’d rather dangle in mid-air on some stupid rope ladder than trust my magic?" the witch asked, astounded.

"I’d rather dangle in mid-air on a rope ladder than trust anyone’s magic. I’d rather dangle in mid-air on a rope ladder over a stack of scrap lumber- no, make that burning scrap lumber before I trust your magic." Spike folded his arms at the end of his piece in a gesture that said, "So there," as plainly in the language of the playground as if he’d said the words.

"You had to open your big mouth, didn’t you, boy?" Angel looked out from his vantage point into the middle distance where a dark column of smoke could be seen rising into the air.

For an instant all eyes were fixed on the rising plume. "I guess we better volunteer for pumping duty." Spike was the first to react and edge one of the apparently older men out of the way. Angel jumped from the peak to land on the far side of the outcropping of rock so that the pilots wouldn’t be able to see. Within seconds he took up a position opposite Spike, and Buffy ducked between her fiancé’s arms to add her strength to the effort. The pump began to move with a speed the pilots found hard to believe.

Willow steered them toward the pilot’s compartment. "I think we know where we want to go, now. Maybe you can do all your pre-flight checks and stuff while they finish up with the fuel. Just tell us where you put the petrol cap."

In what was really only a few minutes but seemed far longer, the chopper was ready to go, and the pilots had radioed in a fire alert to the local emergency services.

"You guys know we can’t go near that fire, right?" the pilot said as soon as the combined Sunnydale/AI crew began to pile into the machine. This time the pilots didn’t wait for everyone to belt themselves in.

"We know," Angel and Spike both confirmed. "Just get as close as you can, and we’ll do the rest," the blond told them.

"Am I missing something?" Buffy asked.

"Ash," Spike answered by way of clarification. "If it clogs the air intakes, no more engine. No more engine, and there isn’t really such a thing as a controlled crash landing for a helicopter."

"Oh. So, I guess we don’t want the helicopter to go near the fire, then," Buffy concurred as the aircraft lifted off once more. "That rope ladder’s starting to look pretty good. So who goes in?"

"I think we’re going to need all the muscle we can get to open those shutters, pet."

"Or one witch," Willow answered.

"Past comments not withstanding, I’m willing to listen if you’ve got a plan."

"These shutters are like shop shutters, right? If the locks weren’t a problem, you could just push them up?" Willow waited till Spike nodded in confirmation before continuing. "I know this spell. I can’t do the whole door, but I can make the areas where the locks are really brittle. One slayer kick, no more locks."

"Okay, Tabitha. You’re first down, once we’re in position. As soon as we’re holding steady, we’ll lower the ladder with you on it, so all you have to do is step off at the bottom. Then the rest of us will follow you down. Don’t wait for us unless you hit a problem. Just go do your mojo on those locks and get clear. For now, best get trancy and see where we really are, ‘cause I don’t fancy steppin’ off that ladder into thin air."

"And who put you in charge?" Buffy demanded of the blond vampire.

"D’you have a problem with the plan?" Spike asked.

"If I did have, you would know by now. I do have one modification, though."

"And what’s that?"

"As long as Gunn doesn’t have a problem with heights…" The demon hunter shook his head. "…You might as well lower me and Willow together. That way there’s more weight on the ladder. It shouldn’t swing about so much, and I’m there ready to do the kicking as soon as Will does her spell."

"If I asked you to promise to be careful, it wouldn’t do any good would it?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Probably not," she admitted looking up into his dangerously expressive eyes.

"Then all I’ll say is think twice before you go rushing into a burning building. Remember, way more people die from smoke inhalation than from being burned, and you’ve got two people backing you up who don’t inhale. Okay?" He reached up to smooth away a stray strand of hair, even though in the downdraft cause by the propeller blades such an action was patently pointless.

Buffy acknowledged the waves of acceptance and support that accompanied the love and concern conveyed in his touch. "I won’t forget," she whispered.

The helicopter began to move forwards, and the change in momentum had Spike grabbing for the helicopter’s framework with one hand and holding Buffy close with the other as she stumbled into him.

It was too good an opportunity to miss. Buffy grasped handfuls of the leather that covered his shoulders and tilted her head back, so her lips were only inches from his when he looked down to check she was okay. Spike watched transfixed, as her tongue darted out to moisten suddenly dry lips before he softly covered them with his own.

When several seconds of throat clearing failed to produce any effect, Willow was forced to tug on the couple’s sleeves.

"Not that I want to intrude, but getting trancy, as you put it, is kind of easier if I have some floor to sit on." She let her gaze shift to the bench seating at either side of the aircraft and then back to the couple’s feet planted squarely in the middle of the floor space.

The vampire grinned, mischief lighting his eyes. "You could have just said," he teased as he plonked himself down on the bench opposite Angel and Gunn and drew Buffy into his lap.

Chapter 2.06

Fred tried repeatedly to reconnect with Lorne’s, or more accurately, Spike’s cell phone. Every time, she was connected to an answering service, which announced that the cell phone she was trying to reach was currently switched off. Finally, she was forced to accept that the battery on his cell had given up.

She decided to try speaking to Angel, again. It had only been minutes since he had hung up. It was unlikely that they would have refuelled and been ready to move on so quickly. She really wasn’t sure exactly what Lorne had actually said. The signal had been breaking up so badly, but it was the desperation in his voice that had really worried her.

Lorne wasn’t given to making mountains out of molehills, but something had banished his normal equanimity, and just maybe she’d heard the words "on fire" somewhere in those few seconds before they had been cut off. She tried to work out how best to express her concerns before she dialled the number. This was going to sound so lame. "Lorne called and he might have said that the bin was on fire, or maybe he said there was gunfire, or maybe I haven’t got a clue what he was saying and I can’t get back through to him because his phone’s dead. No, I said his phone’s dead."

Deciding that procrastinating was only making things worse, she dialled the number for Angel’s cell phone. An all too familiar answering service message was her only reply.

Spike was determined to savour every last second he and Buffy shared, not because he thought it was likely that either of them would fail to make the return trip, but because, however small, there existed that possibility. So, even though serious business was at hand, it wasn’t enough to stop his hand from straying underneath Buffy’s coat to brush against the soft flesh of her midriff where her top didn’t quite meet her jeans. He still inhaled the perfume of her shampoo, filing it away with his memory of how she felt, sitting on his left thigh, her back to his chest, her head resting to one side and just slightly below his. He memorised her mood, how her emotions were mirrored back to him through their skin; the determination to do whatever needed to be done to save those in danger, impatience to reach their destination and concern that he suspected was directed at him as well as at those trapped in the burning building.

He whispered the three words he’d found himself saying so often in the last week, his lips brushing against her hair. "I love you, my slayer."

Buffy tilted her head back to search his face. Normally, use of her title was a sure sign that Spike was looking for a fight, either verbal or physical. Instead, his tone held only pride. His touch told the same story, though it also betrayed a proprietorial side to the pride that she suspected he would rather have kept hidden, or maybe not, given his choice of wording.

She knew she should object to the concept that she belonged to him, but hadn’t she promised him just that. His attitude wasn’t politically correct, but it was honest and passionate and maybe it was something to do with the bond but it was the same way she felt about him.

No, what was important was that Spike loved her, even when her duty took precedence over him and their relationship. He didn’t worry about being eclipsed. He didn’t try to change who she was, or how she did things, other than a request that she not take unnecessary risks. She knew that he would be there to support her, if she needed him. She knew, if she didn’t, he could stand back and watch her work, content to know that she was his girl. There was an element of egotism in there. This incredible girl is with me. I’m the one she goes home with at night. Nevertheless, it was vastly outweighed by his feelings for her.

Riley had accepted that she was the slayer, at least to begin with. Spike loved that she was the slayer. Okay, so maybe not the part where she killed his friends, but he loved that she was stronger than him. He loved that she could take charge. He loved her because she was something more than ordinary, not in spite of it. Perhaps for the first time, having that affirmation as a constant in her life allowed her to love those qualities in herself as well.

Buffy processed all this in a fraction of a second. She still had more of a problem saying the words than he did, especially in front of an audience including her ex. Not that he was any old ex. He was the only man she’d fantasised about marrying, but Spike was the man who she was going to marry.

"I love you, my... " she whispered before returning to her normal voice, which thanks to the engine noise probably still wouldn’t be heard by either Willow or Gunn. "Okay, I’m trying to think of one word to tell you what I’m thinking, but it’s kinda busy in here and I don’t think there’s one word that can say all that. How about we add this to our list of things to discuss? Later? In private?"

Lorne couldn’t see all of the kids any more, only the ones immediately next to him. Smoke permeated the building, coming up from the cellar through gaps in the floorboards and billowing down from the upstairs corridor. The floor was uncomfortably hot, but there was nowhere else to go. The bedrooms weren’t an option. They were above the worst part of the fire. When last he’d been able to see the far wall that separated off the reception room from the kitchen, it had still been containing the blaze, but it had looked as if the bedrooms above had caught fire. Sometimes, they would hear rumbling crashes that Lorne thought were probably caused by bits of the upper floors collapsing.

Every few minutes he got the kids to sound out by the numbers, listening for the missing link that would tell him the first of them had passed out or maybe fallen through to the cellar.

In the midst of all the noise, he tried to listen for the sound of the helicopter’s return, but it was hopeless. But then wasn’t that Angel’s job, helping the hopeless.

The helicopter made a wide circle round to end up upwind of the fire. As they moved in as close as they dared the view in front of them suddenly wavered. It was as though they had punctured a bubble around the cabin, letting them see it as it really was. What had previously looked like a fairly steep wooded slope resolved itself into a cleared plateau with an even steeper cliff behind it and a large burning wooden cabin a little over a hundred yards away in the lee of the cliff.

The two pilots stared at the scene before them with some surprise. Then one of them came to a decision.

"This is real, right? This is what you all were talking about before?"

"Yeah, this is the real deal," Buffy assured him.

"Well, I figure if we put down over here then you won’t all be needing that ladder." No sooner had he voiced the thought than he put it into action, though Angel reckoned he’d been pretty damn careful setting down until he was sure the "ground" was going to take the chopper’s weight.

The pilot had one last word of warning before his passengers disembarked. "I might have to take off again if the wind changes. Head upwind and you’ll find me."

"Don’t worry. We’ll find you," Buffy assured him.

Even though there was nothing they could do until Willow got there, it was impossible for either Buffy or the vampires to resist the urge to get to the burning building as quickly as possible. Buffy was slightly faster, but Spike had the advantage of knowing exactly where he was going.

As it turned out they made it to the front door of the building at almost exactly the same time, with Angel just a couple of seconds behind. "Think we can force it before Red gets here?" he asked Buffy before holding a hand up near the shutters. Only when he couldn’t feel any significant heat radiating from the metal, did he first risk a tentative touch and then thump loudly on the metal.

"Anybody home?" he called loudly.

Three answering thumps sounded from the other side of the shutters.

"We’ll get you out of there soon. Just hang on a bit longer," Buffy shouted. She bent to grasp the lip at the bottom of the shutters and both Angel and Spike did likewise. They strained to lift the metal, but it soon became apparent that they weren’t going to have any luck and they were reluctant to try kicking the shutters in, at least not until Willow tried her spell. Fortunately, she and Gunn arrived before Spike’s patience ran out.

The witch took only seconds to observe the position of the locks, before she uttered the command.

"Fragilus."

"That it?" Spike asked as on either side of him Buffy and Angel executed front kicks to the locks, which shattered as if they were made of thin glass.

Spike shrugged, the answer to his question now superfluous. Reaching down, he grasped the bottom edge of the shutters and yanked them sharply upwards. Looking down, he discovered he was knee to face with his favourite green demon. Of course, if pressed he’d be compelled to admit he didn’t know many other green demons, but just the same…

He reached down and gripped Lorne by the elbow, pulling him to his feet and out of the building. Angel was there to help the first of the kids out, steering them toward Gunn and then going back as Buffy and Spike also took turns to help the youngsters to crawl the last few yards to freedom.

Lorne was just beginning to think the nightmare was truly over when there was a loud crash from inside the building. Looking round he counted three girls and two boys. The kid who’d played chef was still missing.

Rising to his feet he tried to get to where he could see through the entrance into the building.

"Michael?" he called out, but no answering shout was heard.

Angel tapped Gunn on the shoulder and then held out his hand. "You and Willow get these guys to the chopper."

Gunn pressed something into Angel’s outstretched palm and began herding the teenagers and Lorne toward the area where they had left the helicopter.

Angel could tell from the body language that Buffy and Spike were steeling themselves to enter the burning building, using some strange private code.

"Ready, Randy?"

Spike nodded in affirmation. "Ready, Joan?" The pair were just about to clasp hands and brave the smoky atmosphere when Angel stepped between them

"You’re injured. You need to breathe," he told them, pointing first at Spike and then at Buffy. "And I have these." He held up the pouch containing the orbs of Nezzla Khan. "I win. Stay close. He might need CPU when I get him out."

Both the blondes looked as if they were about to argue, but then Buffy shrugged as she watched Angel’s retreating back.

"He’s got a point," she conceded.

"Yeah, so how come you didn’t pay attention to it when I made it?" Spike teased as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, so that they could both watch for Angel’s return.

"You weren’t invulnerable, and I wasn’t going to let you go in there on your own." As the seconds ticked by with nothing to show except more smoke billowing from the doorway and from the back of the building both of them grew more tense.

Buffy tilted her head back. "If he shouted for help you’d hear him, right?"

"I’d hear. Wouldn’t necessarily tell you," he teased, "but I’d hear."

"Can you hear the kid?" she asked.

"’Fraid not, pet. I guess he got knocked out when the floor gave way."

Angel lowered himself into the cellar through a hole where the floor had given way. He made his way tentatively through the precariously stacked debris in the basement, keeping his arms up to shield his face instinctively when he had to duck through the flames, even though he knew it was unnecessary.

One false move could cause his footing to give way or send burning debris scattering around the room. Logic told him that the missing teen should be near the main door, and he searched mostly along that front wall, clearing away chunks of burning debris, until finally he found what he was looking for. Angel pulled the belt from his trousers and slipped it through the loops in the leather pouch that held the orbs before fastening it round the kid’s waist.

Whatever happened now, the kid wasn’t going to get any worse. Scooping the teenager over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, Angel scrambled onto the remains of the piano, which had fallen through to the cellar, its weight too much for the weakened floorboards. Checking briefly round the hole in the floor he could make out Spike and Buffy’s voices not too far away. Using them as his guide, he decided to go for speed rather then caution. He leapt from his perch to the floor above, landing well clear of the hole’s edge and seconds later he emerged through a curtain of billowing smoke into the fresh night air.

Even as Angel bent over to lay the kid at Buffy’s feet so that she could check him over, Spike was sweeping off his precious duster, using it to smother the few smouldering embers that had landed on the older vampire. He cast a critical glance at the parcel that decorated the teenager’s waist.

"All well and good the kid being in one piece if you turned into a Roman candle before you got him out of there, ya daft ponce." Spike’s tone belied the harshness of his words. He shook his head in disbelief at his grandsire’s actions, before sliding back into his coat. Spike concentrated his attention on the youth lying on the ground. He was breathing, albeit slightly erratically and he had a pulse. Spike was pretty certain that other than that, there wasn’t much that Buffy was capable of checking.

He scooped the kid into his arms, determined not to show it, when his battered body protested at the burden. "Come on, pet. Quicker we get to the helicopter, quicker we can get this one to a hospital."

When the foursome got back to the helicopter, they found everyone else belted in and waiting to go. Spike deposited the youth onto the bench seat next to Lorne, propping his upper half against the side of the vehicle while he strapped him in.

"Are you sure it’s good for him to be strapped in like that when he’s unconscious?" Buffy asked.

"As opposed to rollin’ round the floor like a sack of potatoes? I’m goin’ to go with yeah."

"He’ll be fine, pumpkin," Lorne assured her. "The pilots have warned the local hospital that we’re on our way. They’re going to have a trauma team waiting.

And as soon as we’ve dropped the little darlings off, we can head home so I can have a bath in privacy and a good stiff drink or two."

‘Now,’ thought Spike, glancing over to where Buffy sat opposite him. ‘There’s a couple of ideas I can’t argue with.’

SECTION 3 - FAMILY TREE

...This is the time and place
To bring out our memories
It’s written on every face
I can see it in you
You can see it in me

In all the years we had
As part of a family tree
We knew the good and bad
I can see it in you
You can see it in me...

...It’s time to leave all that behind
It’s time to lay that ghost to rest
We can’t deny the ties that bind
Tonight we’re going to sing out
Tonight our light will shine

(Gerry Rafferty, Album - Night Owl)

Chapter 3.01

Spike knew he was making a tit of himself, the way he couldn’t stop staring at the vision that confronted him from the opposite side of the helicopter, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. So what if he was staring at Buffy? She wasn’t complaining, and he didn’t see it was anybody else’s business.

Given his preoccupation, the noise of the helicopter as they shifted from vertical to horizontal movement and the general bustle of twelve bodies trying to get comfortable in limited space, he was surprised that he actually caught it, but he did. Maybe, something about his shift of concentration caught Angel’s attention, or maybe he too had managed to filter out the background noise. Whatever it was, Angel’s slight nod was enough to confirm they’d both heard it.

"Hey! Englebert! Why ’s your leg beeping?"

"Why ’s my…? Ay carrumba!" Lorne pulled up his pant leg slightly to reveal the forgotten lowjack, which now had a little red LED flashing on and off.

"Jesus Christ! Land! Land! Put this thing back down!" Spike yelled at the pilots in a voice that reminded Buffy not a little of a certain Thanksgiving. The blond scrambled to beat Angel in the race to unfasten their seatbelts. Of course, none of the humans were able to differentiate which of the vampires was the winner. All they knew was one minute they were both in their seats, and the next there seemed to be some sort of supernatural tug of war going on over Lorne’s leg. Finally, the anklet gave way. Ominously, the on-off beeping it had been emitting changed to a constant tone. Clutching the offending object Angel sped to the helicopter door only to find Spike there, pulling it open for him.

Angel hauled his arm back and launched the electronic tag back in the direction of the burning building. It was still sailing through the air when it exploded in a five-foot diameter ball of flame. Spike spent a couple of seconds contemplating just how lucky they had been before he pushed the door closed, once more.

"Okay, anybody else with any little surprises they want to tell us about, raise their hand now," the blond said in his best teacher voice.

He couldn’t believe it when one of the kids, (no surprise to Lorne that it was Donna) actually raised her hand. "Em, I kinda need to go… bad."

The blond raised his eyes heavenward before settling back in his seat. He wiped both hands across his face in a gesture that made him look so tired that Buffy ached to hold him close. Then, he raised his head again and in more typical form told the girl, "well, the door’s there, pet. Help yourself."

Buffy couldn’t help but smile, even as she unstrapped herself to go ask the pilots how long it would be before they reached that hospital. As she passed, she stretched out an arm to gently ruffle Spike’s blond curls.

Spike looked up, returning her smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes and Buffy knew that as the adrenaline turned sour in his system and the need for action was gone, his thoughts had returned to Drusilla.

She deliberately bent over, rather than crouching to speak to the pilots, in an effort to distract him. When she came back, instead of returning to her seat she knelt on the floor to Spike’s left, resting her arm on his thigh.

"It’ll only be ten, fifteen minutes tops before we reach the hospital. Think you can make it?" she asked the girl.

"Think so," Donna responded.

"Good. ‘Cause Spike’s already told you the alternative," Buffy responded in a tone that brooked no argument.

It was a somewhat subdued party that started to climb from the car, back at the hotel. As Buffy scrambled out the backseat, Spike took her hand. "Why don’t you start pulling our gear together, whatever’s left of it, and I’ll get his lordship there to take me round to pick up the car?" Angel looked up from the driver’s seat where he’d just turned off the engine.

"You sure?" Buffy asked. "We can leave it till tomorrow. There’s no rush."

Spike gave her a lopsided smile. "If we don’t go home tonight, there will be tomorrow unless you’re plannin’ on servin’ pizza to Bit’s bit."

"Is that tomorrow?" Buffy asked.

"Actually, it’s tonight," the vampire confirmed.

"Shoot!" the slayer proclaimed her dissatisfaction. She stetched on tiptoe to give him a quick goodbye kiss, except when his arms wrapped around her it turned out not to be so quick after all. "Who’s coming back with us and who’s going back with Lori?"

Spike shrugged. "Plenty space for anyone as wants to tag along, not that I’d say no to getting you on your own for a couple of hours, but you’ll probably sleep all the way back anyway."

"Well, it’s not like I can exactly admire the view, or at least not the one outside the car anyway," she corrected herself. "I’ll sort out the passengers. You go fetch the car."

Spike looked over to where Angel was waiting. "We might be a while, pet. I think maybe what I said last time we were here, maybe it was a bit hasty."

"Take as long as you need. I’ll be here," Buffy assured him, glad that he’d decided not to stick by his words when he’d claimed that he and Angel had said everything that needed saying years before.

"So? Where to?" Angel asked his passenger, as Buffy made her way into the hotel.

"Well the car’s a few blocks down and a few blocks over, sort of that way." Spike gestured in the approximate direction of the motel where he had left it, before looking Angel straight in the eye. "But I think if you know any bars that’re still goin’ t’ be open at this hour, it wouldn’t hurt to raise a couple of glasses to absent friends. God knows, if we don’t, no one will."

Angel looked over at the blond. "I think I know a couple of places where the clientele will be glad to drink to a lady’s memory, and if they’re not, we can always make them."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Spike switched on the car’s radio and flicked through the stations till he found something that appealed to his mood. Angel vaguely recognised the melancholy track about a lover separated from the object of his affection. If he remembered correctly, it was the lead singer from the Moody Blues, his one solo hit.

"I think I used to have this album," he told the blond.

Spike snorted. "Everybody used to have this album. And ninety nine percent of them only ever played this track and ‘Farewell, Thunderchild’ because no offence to Phil Lynott but the rest was a bag of shit."

He glanced across to the brunette. "’S not a bad song though." He pulled out his cigarettes and his lighter and lit one up before continuing. "Definite improvement on Barry Manilow." The pair lapsed into silence for a while until Angel realised that Spike was singing along with the radio under his breath. "My life will be forever autumn, now you’re not here…"

"A round for the house, bartender, to drink to the memory of my favourite childe," Angel announced, putting down a sheath of neat bills on the counter.

"And another round to the memory of my sire," Spike added another wad of crumpled notes to the piles.

"And if I don’t want to drink to some vamp ho?" asked one of the demons at the bar.

Spike smiled a cold smile. "Set them up, barkeep." He looked at the spot in front of the surly demon. "Two of your cheapest gins for the nice gentleman." He raised an eyebrow. "That is what you’re drinking, isn’t it?"

"I said I didn’t want no half-breed, no account vamps buying me drinks. I say you ain’t born a demon, then you ain’t a demon an’ you’ve got no right drinkin’ in a bar like this."

"’S that right?" Spike asked as the bartender set the drinks down in front of the demon. For just a fraction of a second the demon thought that Spike was turning his back on him to talk to Angel. Instead, the blond turned just enough to use his right hand to push the demon’s head down onto the counter with more than sufficient force to smash the two shot glasses that had been placed in front of him. Blood, broken glass, broken teeth and alcohol sprayed in all directions, including a few drops that landed on Spike’s chin. The vampire’s tongue snaked out and licked them off. "I think he swallowed some of that," he looked over to where the older vampire was taking a sip of his large single malt. "What do you think?"

Angel took another sip of his drink and picked up another of the four identical glasses that the barman had set in front of him. "I think," he handed one of the glasses to Spike leaving him a free hand to press the demon’s face back into the mess that was decorating the bar, "that I’ll be happy when he’s licked that bar clean." Spike smiled as his grandsire kept the demon’s face pressed to the bar until he began to do just that.

"Anybody else got a problem drinking to a lady’s memory?" Spike looked round the bar locking gazes with anyone who had looked as if they might protest. "What about you?" he asked the demon sitting on the other side of the carnage.

"Me? I’ll drink to anyone as long as someone else is buying."

"Now, see that’s a healthy attitude. Why don’t you tell the barman your order? An’ why don’t you take that order pad of yours, and see what those nice people along the back wall are having? Then you can get yourselves something and we can have a toast." Spike leant over the counter to smile at the waitress who had hidden behind the counter as soon as the bar-cleaning demon had opened his mouth. She had a longer memory than most. She remembered when demons used to talk about the Scourge, and in that piece of history the women had always been a sidebar. So, if Angelus and William the Bloody were back together, it stood to reason anyone stupid enough to get in their way was asking for trouble.

"Okay," she uncoiled from her crouching position and wiggled her way past the two vamps.

"And that’s two drinks each… and be sure to tell us if anyone wants to refuse our hospitality," Angel told her.

"Let us know if anyone needs convincing. With any luck, maybe the next one will actually taste better than six month old roadkill." Spike called out after her.

Angel raised an eyebrow. "Okay, so I’ve never been that desperate," the blond pitched his voice so that only Angel could hear it. "Not even when I was in that bastard chair."

"Yeah, well, about that-."

"Less said, the better," Spike cut in before the apology he knew was coming. "Takes two and since we ain’t goin’ to start talkin’ ill of the dusted…"

Spike nodded at the now only slightly tacky bar. "I think you can spare a hand to pick up your other drink now." Angel wiped his hand on his jacket a couple of times before he followed the blond’s example, picking up his second drink and making for a booth.

"She was beautiful, wasn’t she?" Spike opened.

"She was."

"So unpredictable. Every day was like a roller-coaster and a chamber of horrors all in one. You never knew what to expect," the blond continued in a wistful tone.

"You still miss her?"

"Miss the whole life sometimes. But I’d trade every last kill, every last memory of bein’ with Dru, God rest her, for an extra day with Buffy."

"So how come we’re pissin’ away one of those precious days, while Buffy’s back at the hotel."

"Because even with the bond Buffy can share my feelings, but there’s feelings of her own there as well, and she’s glad she’s dead. She’s glad she won’t be pulling any more stunts like this." Spike gestured to his head and to the right side of his chest. "She’s downright happy Dru won’t make any more like me or Lindsey and she’s pleased as punch that that Jamaican bint can rest happy in her grave knowin’ Dru’s gone. She doesn’t like that I’m hurtin’ over it, and you could take it both ways and you’d be right. So, I figure, who better than her sire to talk to."

"Did Willow tell you that her and Fred managed to keep her ashes separate?"

"Damn considerate of them considerin’" Spike answered in a harsh tone.

"Considering?"

"Considerin’ they’re the ones that killed her." Spike ran a hand through his hair before he tipped back the expensive liquor as if it were cheap tequila. "Hell, who am I kidding? I killed her. I turned my back on her and left her to fend for herself. I should just have stuck the stake in myself. At least she wouldn’t have seen it comin’."

"Spike, it wasn’t your fault."

"You tellin’ me that if I’d taken the time to put Dru in the car before I… before Buffy, then she wouldn’t still be alive? Wasn’t even the slayer. I mean at least there’s a bit of dignity in bein’ beat by a slayer, but no she gets dusted by some low rent sidekick."

"Hey, we don’t do low rent sidekicks," Angel protested.

"So it was one of yours, then?"

Angel shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"I guess. If it was one of yours it wouldn’t be so bad. If I had to look at Harris or even Red day in day out knowin’ they’d done it, I think I’d just about snap… If it wasn’t for Buffy an’ Niblet an’ Demon bint."

"That’s quite the harem you’ve got there. You know that Quarnoth demon of yours threatened to curse me if you died."

"Good for her. I’m sure you deserve it."

"How d’you do it, William? Every woman in the place was ready to do whatever it took. You know Buffy said if she had to be dead to talk to Dinza then she’d take the old woman round every demon bar till she found someone who would turn her."

"She wha’?"

"She told me I had no concept of what she would do for her mate."

"Yeah, well, I mean I always knew she’d stick up for her Scoobies, just never thought they’d count me as one of them."

"Well, I can’t comment on how they got Xander to show up."

"I can take a fair guess. Anya leads that guy round by his dick. I think she could well be part succubus."

The waitress picked this moment to arrive with a tray bearing another four whiskies and some change.

Angel took one of the glasses and raised it in a salute, both he and Spike checking to make sure that all the bar’s patrons and staff did likewise.

"To Dru. May she find herself in heaven half an hour before the Devil knows she’s dead."

Both vampires polished off their drinks turning their glasses over when they were done and then picking up the second of the drinks the waitress had just brought. This time the younger vampire made the toast.

"To Dru. A true visionary, a lady and an inspiration," the blonde offered.

Only when they were content that the entirety of the bar had raised a couple of glasses to her memory did the vampires return to their seats.

"Well, this lot didn’t put up much of a fight." Spike took a sip from his last remaining glass. "D’you think we might get more of a reaction at the one in Santa Monica?"

"We can try."

Chapter 3.02

The two vampires headed from the bar back to Angel’s convertible and Spike had to laugh despite himself as he heard the collective sigh of relief from the bar’s patrons a second after the door swung shut behind them.

"I’ve missed that," Spike told the older vampire.

"Me too," Angel admitted though he suspected that they missed it for different reasons.

"Come on." Spike’s tone showed his scepticism. "It’s not like you’ve ever had to play the fluffy puppy with the demon crowd. Try getting a bit of respect never mind anything else when-" Spike gave up trying to put his life in Sunnydale into words and simply shook his head.

"That’s not what I missed. It’s… family. Connor’s my flesh and blood and still I don’t often get a fraction of what I felt in there. Sometimes, it’s like he’s a stranger. I should have been there when he was growing up. I should know him inside and out."

"Give it time, mate. It’s not like you’re getting any older, is it? An’ he’s not goin’ anywhere. It’ll all sort itself out in the end. There’s times when I haven’t exactly been the Niblet’s favourite person, but we seem to get on okay most of the time."

"That was something else that came out yesterday. Connor said that if you hadn’t been there the other night… well, things could have worked out a lot worse," Angel looked like he was trying to find the right words.

"What’s with the name game, anyway? I thought the kid was sticking with Stephen," Spike cut-off his grandsire before he could embarrass both of them. "An’ if this is going to get all touchy feely maybe we should skip Santa Monica an’ just take a bottle back to the hotel. That way we can always get the kid drunk, too. Not that he knew her, but she was his sister… and his grandmother… and his…niece? I mean, that’s why vamps aren’t meant to have kids, what with all the shaggin’ that goes on between all the different generations, it just gets too damn confusin’ especially when your great grandma’s already your sister. Do you have any idea how much it does your head in when you’re your uncle’s uncle and his … something else all-" Spike climbed into the convertible as he spoke, watching in amusement as Angel actually opened the driver’s door to get in.

"Spike!" Angel cut into the verbal torrent. "I’ve got a bottle of Bushmills back at the hotel, if that’ll do, but you’re not getting Connor drunk. He’s not old enough to be drinking."

"Jesus, man. To hear you talk in the old days, you were drunk as a skunk every night when you were his age."

"Yeah, and look how I ended up, dead in an alley. So, pick a direction. Back to the hotel or on to the next bar?"

"I’ll go with pickin’ up the car. That way at least slayer can pack her stuff while we tie a few on. What’re you goin’ to do with her?"

Somehow even though the change of topic seemed totally random Angel knew exactly what his grandchilde meant. "Dru? I thought you’d want to…"

"Hell, no, mate. Hardly the way to start a bloody marriage, is it? ‘Sides she made her choice an’ thank God I came second, ‘cause otherwise I might never have ended up where I am now." Spike looked over to where Angel seemed to be concentrating on the traffic before continuing.

"I reckon you probably couldn’t do much better than scatter them in that garden you’ve got back at your place. That way she’s near you an’ she always did like growin’ things. Maybe Texas’d even plant her a few daisies, if you asked her nice. An’ it’s not like the cheerleader’s got as much to- I mean they all think you’re a different person, right? So there’s no history between Angel and her for her to be jealous of. When she gets back. Where is she, anyway? Her and her Angel doll. I kinda thought with everything that’s been happenin’ they might have made an appearance even if it was her day off…"

"Spike. Can you shut up for five seconds?" Angel again cut off Spike in midstream before his tone softened. "Cordy went missing just after your last visit. Wes seems to think she’s in another dimension. I guess that was one of the things Buffy didn’t get a chance to tell you."

"Didn’t really have time for much other than gettin’ cleaned up and grabbin’ a couple of hours kip." Spike shrugged. "Buffy gets nightmares sleepin’ on her own since they brought her back and I wasn’t exactly up for runnin’ a marathon so… no big surprise we crashed out before we had a chance to chat."

Spike found himself watching the brunette, considering what he was about to say next and knowing that their relationship stood at a crossroads. They could walk away after tonight and blame it on the liquor and on losing Dru, or they could take a chance and go beyond what they had been to each other before. "Look, if we can help, we will. Right now, we’ve got to go home an’ look after Bit, an’ it’s not like you can-. I mean, it’s not like Buffy can just leave the Hellmouth to look after itself, but if there’s any research the Scoobies can do or if it comes to mounting a rescue party or something…"

"You don’t have to. I mean you don’t owe-."

"For Chrissake, when was the last time you saw me do anything for any reason other than I wanted to? Just pick up the bloody phone when the time comes, or let us know if she happens to come waddlin’ back on her own two feet."

"Cordy doesn’t waddle," Angel insisted.

"Alright, when she comes wanderin’ back. Better? Take a right here." The blond gestured at a turn no human would have been able to make, even with vampire reflexes Angel just managed to pull the wheel round in time and had to listen to the car horn of the irate driver behind him for his trouble.

"Do you think we could have a bit more notice next time?" he asked the unrepentant blond who had turned in his seat to give a two-fingered salute to the driver before their paths parted.

"Whatever… Two blocks down, on the right opposite the diner."

The rest of the drive was completed in silence, but when Angel pulled up alongside the DeSoto Spike seemed loath to get out.

"Go on. Whatever it is, it’ll keep till we get back to the hotel."

The blond shook his head, his tousled curls glinting in the moonlight. "It’s best if there’s no chance of Buffy walking in.

Look, Buffy wanted to be the one to tell you ‘cause she thinks I’d cock it up, but I’d rather save her from havin’ to do it. You see there’s a bit of a problem about askin’ you to the weddin’." He took a deep breath watching the other man’s impassive features as he clarified their position. "It’s not that either of us don’t want you there, but Buffy’s kinda worried about the watcher. Bit pointed out that… well, it’s all to do with that teacher. She’s kinda worried seein’ you might stir up old memories and take the shine off the old watcher’s day, but she doesn’t want to just straight out ask him if it’s okay you bein’ there, ‘cause then she’s stirrin’ it all up herself.

Bit kinda got it into her head that Rupert’s just settlin’ for second best with the lass he’s with now. That the gypsy was the one. Says he’s never been that happy since…

Anyway, I reckon Rupert’ll probably show up at least a couple of weeks before the weddin’ an’ maybe we can sort somethin’ out. But if not, the old git’s more like her dad than that other old git, an’ I think if he wasn’t happy then she couldn’t be either… An’ God only knows she deserves to have that one day. So, d’you think you can be patient on this one till we check the lie of the land with old Rupes?"

"Did you think I was going to just turn up without an invite? I don’t want her upset any more than you do." Angel brushed away Spike’s concerns.

"No, I guess I just wanted to make sure you knew the position. She still cares about you. An’ that means she doesn’t want your feelin’s hurt. It also means, given the choice, she’d like you to be there."

"And what about you? Given the choice?"

"Up until today, I’d have wanted you there for her. Now?" Spike shrugged and left it at that. "Well, now that little secret’s out, I suppose we’d best head back to yours." He jumped out of the car, pulling out the keys for the DeSoto as Angel pulled up to the parking lot entrance and waited for him to follow.

Angel scooped up the tin that Fred had left on top of the reception desk. "Roof?" he asked Spike.

"Roof," Spike agreed, his gaze drawn to where Buffy and most of the others from Sunnydale seemed to be waiting.

"I’ll just stick my head in on Connor and I’ll meet you up there once you finish." Angel headed for the stairs leaving Spike to talk to Buffy.

"Roof?" she asked as she walked over and took both his hands ever so loosely in hers. Her head tilted back slightly to look up into his face and it seemed only natural for their lips to meet.

"Dru. Figured to scatter her over the garden."

"That’s… It seems like a nice place."

"She would have liked it."

"So is this more of the male bonding thing or is this a come with you and be around to hold your hand thing?" Spike smiled at her consideration.

"That depends."

"On?" Buffy raised an eyebrow just slightly as she asked.

"How much whisky you want me to have drunk by the time I get back down," Spike answered with a wry smile.

"I guess in that case…" she replied, first dropping his right hand and moving to stand next to him and then slipping her right arm around his waist under his coat before she steered them both toward the lift. Spike was surprised to see the rest of the Sunnydale contingent move to join them as they waited for the car to arrive.

When Lily came up to him and placed a kiss on his cheek before giving him a brief hug Spike could feel a prickle behind his eyelids. When the two witches stepped up as the older demon stepped back each slipping an arm around him at the same time not even his injuries would let him do anything to end the moment.

"We’re glad to have you back, Scooby," Tara whispered before her lips brushed his cheek.

A subdued Willow added her piece. "I know it sounds kinda trite but we are sorry for your loss."

Clem simply did that diagonal sort of hug that men do with a muttered, "Sorry, man," and a couple of pats on his back. Lori gripped his hand for a second giving it a gentle squeeze before moving off. As the last of them stepped back, the lift doors opened and the entire group moved in.

Buffy watched him as she felt the wonder that flooded his being when he realised that every person in that lift intended to be there for him, to offer his or her support. She shifted closer in against his side until she could link her arms around his waist. She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "Don’t look at me. There’s only two that come with the Buffy package. The rest you collected all on your own."

Angel and Connor both emerged from the teenager’s room as the group were piling out of the lift on the top floor. Angel still carried the tin while Connor now held a bottle of whisky. "So which way to the roof?" Spike asked. Angel gestured towards the stairwell at the end of one of the corridors.

The procession wound its way through the emergency fire exit onto the roof and round the C-shape of the rooftop until the wind was at their backs as they looked down on the garden. By some sort of silent consensus the rest of the group formed a semicircle around the two vampires.

Angel took the lid off the tin and spoke the first words as he released handfuls of ashes into the soft breeze. "May she know peace." A world of regret tinged his voice.

He passed the tin to Spike, only a little over half full now. "In a windowless room, she could see the stars. In a broken man, she saw a knight." Spike scattered a couple of handfuls in the breeze, but when he moved to tip the last of the ashes from the tin a small hand stayed his arm.

Buffy took the tin from him, saying her own words before she let the last of the ashes stream into the breeze that would carry them down to the garden below. "She gave me my most precious gift, and for that, I will always be grateful." When she finished, she sat the empty tin down on the roof and hooked her arm through Spike’s.

Connor took the stopper from the bottle and let it drop onto the roof. "Dru." He tipped the bottle back as little as possible, taking a small gulp that still brought tears to his eyes.

He passed the bottle to the person next to him, which happened to be Lily. The petite demon raised the bottle and toasted Spike’s sire before swallowing a couple of mouthfuls. The bottle passed it’s way round the semi-circle, from Lily to Clem, Clem to Lori, Lori to Tara, Tara to Willow before it finally reached the three who stood in the middle. Buffy gave the top of the bottle a quick wipe with her sleeve before taking a tiny swig. "Dru," she managed to get out even as her "liquor face" took over, causing crows’ feet to bloom at the corner of Spike’s eyes as he took the bottle from her. The blond held the bottle up, appraising how much was left as he made his toast, chugging down a good few mouthfuls before he passed the bottle to Angel with almost exactly half as much in it as it had contained when Buffy passed it to him.

"Dru." Angel drained the bottle and let it drop to the ground. Once again Spike found himself being hugged from all directions before the group began to wander off. Spike, Buffy and Angel were the last to leave. The empty tin and the bottle lying on the roof would be the vampiress’s only monuments, at least until Angel got Fred to plant some daisies.

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