Chapter 2.04

Spike lay awake for some time wondering what the evening would bring, not knowing how he wanted it to play out. Cordelia's question about Dru, had given away the fact that she wasn't the family business Angel was dealing with, but that still left a wide range of options. Angel hadn’t even been twenty when he had made his first childe, but he had never learned to look after them. He never seemed to care for them, always abandoning them to their own devices at the first sign of difficulty. It had always been an unhappy recipe in Spike’s view.

Angelus alone with Darla, meant that he was the one who took the abuse. He was the one she vented her frustration on. He was beaten and tortured, though never as often or as badly as he treated his subordinates because in truth, a life as a whore had trained Darla to be submissive to the men around her. Angel was punished only when he overstepped his bounds, and yet he railed against it. So in one of her more indulgent moods Darla allowed him to create his first child when he was little more than a fledgling.

For a while it amused him to indulge his sadistic whims, but eventually a male childe would become a challenge to his authority. A female childe would take attention away from his sire making her jealous and bringing down her ire. Occasionally, a foursome would work for a time, but even so there would often be problems between Angelus and the other male in the group. A weak male would be hounded to death, killed by Angelus’ demanding tests. A strong male would eventually be a challenge to him. Angelus showed no fondness for his progeny; rather they were a means to demonstrate his power, his ability to dominate at least some of those around him. If he must follow Darla’s commands, others would follow his.

Dru’s devotion to him amused him. Her feelings for Spike and his for her infuriated him and he had used them in his twisted games, making each beg for pain and indignity to be visited upon them in order to spare the other. Had Spike been Angelus’ childe then one of them would have died before Spike took his first slayer, but Spike was held in line by threats against his dark princess, for try as he might he couldn’t convince her to leave her abusive Daddy. They had opportunity enough. Whenever pursuit closed upon the group Darla and Angel were quick to abandon the others to their fate using them as bait. Always though Dru would insist they travel to the appointed meeting place or scour his favourite cities until they found her Daddy again. Always until he got his soul.

It seemed to Spike that on average the git managed to last about twenty years between one childe or pair of children and the next. That meant he had quite a few uncles and aunts, and more cousins than he could count though to be fair he included all of Angelus’ descendants of his generation or subsequent generations as cousins. He hadn’t met that many. The world was still a big place, but every couple of decades some stranger in a bar somewhere would have the scent of family. Hence his remark to Buffy about a cousin who was married to a regurgitating demon.

So if Angel had family business to attend to it could mean almost anything. The real problem was he probably had far more sympathy for whoever was on the other side of the business than he had for the Poof. Just let Angel start the fight and this could be settled once and for all.

His free hand snaked over the side of the bed and when his fingers made contact with leather he gripped it, hoisting his duster onto the bed and rummaging one-handed through the pockets until he managed to find his cigarettes and lighter. He smiled to himself as he realised that he was actually grateful for the tile floor, knowing Buffy would have disapproved of him flicking ash onto a motel carpet. You are so whipped.

If it wasn’t for her you could just catch the Poof on his own away from the cheerleader and the rest of his groupies, but then if it wasn’t for her you’d probably be in New York, London or maybe Afghanistan. Nothing quite like a religious war, but then it wasn’t as if he needed mayhem and corpses to cover his feeding any more, was it? Maybe Russia? He hadn’t been there since before the revolution. How much of that unique architecture was still there? Living was probably cheap and winter nights long. Maybe he could start in India, pass through Afghanistan and up into Russia back through Eastern Europe maybe see if Drac was home.

Instead here he was killing time till he could confront his grandsire, bound by a promise that he wouldn’t start a fight. Slayer had better realise that didn’t mean he was going to curb his tongue. He hadn’t specifically said anything, but she had to know that that would be too much to ask. He lay there for a minute listening to her heartbeat and her breathing, and knew it was worth it. There were almost no limits to the things he would do for her, but it was going to be a long couple of hours.

<

Tuesday Evening

Spike strode through the revolving door into the lobby of the Hyperion, hefting a duffel bag full of weapons in his left hand, elbow bent so that the bag rested against his shoulder. A second later Buffy followed him through. In Buffy’s case it may have been by accident, but in Spike’s case the all black look was definitely by design. His "pimp" necklace, as Dawn called it, was missing, as was the silver bracelet he sometimes wore, since both could potentially be used against him in a fight. His rings, many with nice sharp edges, however, adorned his hands. He’d decided to forego his normal over-shirt too, something else an opponent could grasp hold of.

Buffy had simply gone for black leather pants to match her new coat and a black camisole, topped by a sheer black over-shirt which she knotted loosely at the front instead of buttoning. Throw in the big bag of weapons and the overall effect was sort of Keanu and Carrie Moss on Peroxide.

"They’re up on the mezzanine." Spike could easily hear the voices including a soft female one with a Texan? accent explaining something about Geiger counters? Angel’s scent permeated the whole building but underneath he was aware of the scent of several others. Spike became aware of running footsteps, Angel’s footsteps and he watched as Angel launched himself through one of the arches, landing faultlessly in the foyer below.

"Or they were." Angel had reacted exactly as Spike expected when he caught wind of his grandchilde and a freshly wounded slayer together. The elder vampire paused long enough when he hit the ground to take in the prominent wound on Buffy’s neck and the lack of a matching wound on Spike’s.

Angel dropped automatically into demon form and the accent of his youth. "Ye always were an arrogant little bastard, weren’t you, William?" He advanced toward the blond in a fighting stance. "Couldn’t wait te show off your little trophy could ye? Well, ye never did know when to cut and run, did ya? And this time ye’re goin’ ta pay with yer miserable existence."

"If you think you’re demon enough to make me, you’ve forgotten about the help you needed just to get out alive the last time we met, Peaches."

Buffy wondered exactly what that little comment meant, she watched as Angel lunged forward, only to have Spike swing the weapons bag round and up into his jaw, before he slid it across the floor to Buffy. A spinning kick followed while the older vampire was still off balance, catching him perfectly on the side of his ear and hopefully causing damage to his inner ear.

"Yeah, well, he’s got more help now than he had before," Cordy’s voice drifted down from the balcony, where she leant against the bottom of the arch, steadying the aim on her crossbow. Next to her Gunn also took aim on the blond’s heart.

"A reception committee, just for me? Princess, you shouldn’t have." Spike countered. He would have made a comment about the hair but his mother had brought him up to not say anything at all if he couldn’t say something nice. He made a lot of exceptions, but drew the line at telling a beautiful woman that she’d massacred one of her best features.

Angel took advantage of Spike’s distraction, driving his shoulder into his stomach and bearing him to the ground, where pinned by the heavier man his speed was of little use. Cordy and Gunn relaxed their aim unable to get a clear shot at the younger vamp without endangering Angel. Just in case Buffy moved to stand between them and the vamps anyway. "Hey! If I don’t get to interfere, you guys sure as hell don’t get to fire stakes at my f—… my friend when Angel started it."

Spike drove his forehead up into Angel’s nose, starting a nosebleed and followed up with a right hook into Angel’s ear, the one he hadn’t kicked, again trying to disrupt his balance so he could throw off the bigger man.

"No point being shy now, pet. Might as well give the rest of them the full story." Angel managed to pin both of Spike’s arms and raised himself up enough that Spike couldn’t get any more head-butts in. In desperation Spike brought a knee up before Angel could establish dominance, and was lucky enough to catch the other vampire in a very delicate area. Angel instinctively rolled into a ball at one side of the blond, and Spike flipped to his feet. He grasped the brunette’s wrist and in one fluid motion stepped across to straddle the older vamp and pulled his arm behind his back forcing him down face first into the floor. Finally, Spike morphed into demon face and knelt on Angel’s shoulders ready to administer the bite to his grandsire that would establish once and for all that he had dominance over him. There was normally a bit more to the ritual, but Spike figured even the Poof would concede defeat rather than force Spike to take him there in the hotel lobby in front of the assembled audience. Behind him Spike could hear Angel’s cronies piling down the stairs, but he knew Buffy wouldn’t let any of them interfere.

Spike’s teeth bit down into the join of Angel’s neck and shoulder. The Irishman struggled under him but was unable to wrestle his way free. The wound would be a messy one. Spike bit down harder, anxious to draw a reasonable amount of blood as quickly as possible and Angel struggled even more, sure Spike meant to drain him before he could expose the blond for holding Buffy in thrall. After a couple of seconds, that seemed to last for minutes Spike raised his head morphing back into human form straight away.

He leant over, whispering in Angel’s ear. "You best concede or my fiancée and your minions are going to see a side of vampire etiquette I think we’d both prefer they didn’t."

"Fuck off, boy!" the older vampire squirmed beneath him trying to goad him into a mistake and Spike’s head exploded in a mess of bright stars as he dropped limply to the floor.

Alerted by the sudden sound of movements behind her Buffy turned to see Angel, blood seeping from his nose and from a ragged neck wound and a teenage boy pulling a wickedly sharp knife.

Everything happened at once. Angel realised the reason for his sudden freedom and saw Stephen kneel using his downward momentum to power his knife thrust as he aimed for Spike’s throat. He wasn’t carrying a stake, but there was no need to when beheading works just as well. Buffy was also aware of the youth’s attack and she ran up and launched herself at the boy feet first. Angel’s shout of "No-o-o-o-o-o!" echoing in her ears as she flew through the air. She was never sure even afterward if Angel meant to stop her or the boy.

She managed to knock the knife from the boy’s hand, but her necessarily low trajectory meant she landed on the floor. Instead of trying to regain her feet she scrambled back to lie diagonally over Spike’s torso, shielding his heart and his neck, ready to defend herself with her legs if need be.

A hand fumbled with the left sleeve of Spike’s duster. "I don’t know who you are, but you’re getting involved in something you don’t understand." Buffy aimed her words at the teenager who seemed reluctant to attack her as yet. "If Spike had wanted Angel dead, he would be dead already." She pulled the stake from Spike’s sleeve using her fingertips. "He’ll have at least another two of these in easy reach and if he could do that, then you can bet he could have used them a lot faster. Not to mention the fact that the bag he slid across to me at the start of the fight has all his favourite toys in it. Axes, swords, shotgun, the whole nine yards."

Angel’s face registered shock at the truth behind Buffy’s words. Not only had Spike beaten him in a fair fight, not something he would admit out loud but he had also passed up the opportunity to kill him.

Somewhere in the background Lorne cleared his throat in a meaningful way.

"Well if that ends the festivities for today…" he moved round to offer Buffy a hand, which after taking a second to notice its unusual colour, she took. "Maybe we can take your …friend over to the couch and Angel can make with the introductions. Like the ring by the way. Indian? …as in from India not Native American." He reached down grasping Spike under one arm. Buffy grabbed the other and they pulled him over to the blue-grey circular couch and laid him out on the seat.

"Possibly. You’d have to ask the unconscious one."

"It’s Indian." Angel’s voice was thick with anger. "His great-grandfather met his wife when he was serving in the army there, before his elder brother was killed and he inherited everything." His voice softened as he changed topic.

"Everyone, I’d like you to meet Stephen. Stephen, this is Fred, Gunn, Cordelia, the guy helping move the corpse is Lorne and our two visitors are Buffy and William." Buffy tried to put stories to the faces, but other than Gunn she drew a blank. Obviously the LA to Sunnydale grapevine wasn’t working that efficiently. She and Angel hadn’t really touched on the other people in their lives the last time they met up, but she felt like she was standing in a room full of strangers.

"Cordy, why don’t you and Buffy catch up on what everybody’s been doing? Stephen and I will take the office. I’ll catch up with Buffy later."

"That would be because I already told her it was your place to tell her everything, Brood Boy." Cordy muttered beneath her breath. "Fine, we’ll have a regular party out here. You have fun."

"Knew it wasn’t just me that noticed the brooding." Buffy couldn’t resist thinking that it was typical for Spike’s mouth to be working before he even got as far as sitting up. "How’s life treating Queen C these days?"

"Pretty good. Let’s see, since I saw you last, I’ve travelled to another dimension, which is where we met Fred. They made me a princess. I fell in love with a Champion. We freed all the slaves and beat the evil priests. I came back here and left him to rule. The visions almost killed me, long story, short version the Powers made me part demon so I’d be strong enough to keep them. The people in Pylea decided they wanted a democracy so Groo left then to it and came here to find me and hopefully we’re somewhere in the living happily ever after stage.

Where is Groo?"

"He went for a walk, cup cake," Lorne supplied. "Around ten this morning."

Spike’s eyes flew to meet those of the green demon, as did Buffy’s. Lorne’s eyes flicked briefly in the direction of the office and Spike noticed the youth for the first time, he also recognised the almost familiar scent that was present now but hadn’t been before he was knocked unconscious.

"I’m guessing by the eau de Darla permeating the atmosphere, that the kid in the office is that family business you were talking about on the phone. Looks like Angel’s finally got himself a little brother, and I thought he’d put the wicked witch off for life. Bit young. He’s never gonna be able to stay in one place longer than a year or two or it’s gonna be too damn obvious when he doesn’t age."

"Oh, he ages. He ages like you would not believe." Spike raised an eyebrow in Gunn’s direction.

"Ah think that’s our cue to go try this thing outside. Check the perimeter. You guys have fun catching up." Gunn took Fred’s hand and they both left the hotel.

"So," asked Lorne, "How do you know Darla?"

"Depends how you look at it. She’s either me sister or me great-grandma."

"ANGEL… BUFFY…" Cordy shouted. "It’s a bar! Vampires. A gang of them!" Cordy cupped her hand behind her ear. "Buffy, can you hear me?" Angel emerged from the office rushing to the seer. "I can see her. A woman. Angel! She’s all alone. She doesn’t see them. Buffy, you have to hurry!"

Angel moved to stand directly in front of the seer and gripped her upper arms. "Slow down."

Spike snorted. "Two hundred and change and he can’t tell the difference between loud and fast."

He picked up the bag of weapons from the floor. "I’ll go start the car, slayer. You come on out when you’ve got an address."

"Will." Buffy threw him the stake she had removed from his sleeve before. He caught it without altering his stride and had it back in place before he got as far as the door.

Cordy looked about her as if the vision had cleared and she had just returned to the hotel. "There is a woman at a bar. There is a gang of vampires that are after her. You have to help her."

Angel looked over to where Stephen had emerged from the office. "Listen, uhm, –I –I, ah, have to go out for a while."

"It’s okay." Stephen circled round toward the door the entire time he and his father were talking, every word, every pause brought him closer to the doors.

"It’s kinda my job." Angel sounded apologetic.

"Yeah. Whatever."

"It could be kinda dangerous. There’s a lot of killing and violence. You wanna come?" Stephen was now nearer the door than his father. He stopped and looked back at the vampire.

"Great," said Buffy. "You got an address for this big family outing?"

Chapter 2.05

"Okay, Peaches, are you goin’ to tell me and the missus just what is goin’ on round here?"

Angel hesitated before answering. "Cordy gets visions from the Powers That Be. She got a vision of a woman in a bar being attacked by—"

The car pulled up at a red light. "That isn’t what I mean, Poofter, and you know it. Now are you going to tell me why junior here smells every bit as much like you as he does Darla? And more to the point, how come he’s got a heartbeat?"

"Spike, this isn’t the time." Angel spoke tersely hoping his tone would deter his grandchilde from further questions, instead as Spike returned his attention to navigating the LA streets Buffy took up his line of questioning.

"No, I think now is the perfect time, Angel. We’ve got a few minutes before we’re going to get to that bar, even the way Will drives. So why don’t you tell us? And while you’re doing it why don’t you tell us what you did with your tame watcher? Cordy seemed to think telling me what happened to him was your job too."

"Alright. Stephen is my son, mine and Darla’s, not our childe, our son.—"

"And when we were going out you neglected to mention you had a son the same age as my sister because, say, you really didn’t want to worry me with little details like birth control…"

"Because he wasn’t born till a couple of months ago. It’s this whole prophecy thing." Buffy turned in her seat, eyebrow raised in a manner that reminded him far too much of his grandchilde.

"He was born a couple of months ago, and then he was kidnapped and taken to a hell dimension. Wesley was instrumental in the kidnapping, that is why he’s no longer welcome at the hotel. As I’m sure you remember from your visit to one, time flows slightly differently in these places. To us he was kidnapped last week, to him it’s been considerably longer."

"So that makes it less than a year since you and Darla… Did you go evil again and not tell us?" Buffy pressed him.

"No, that is I went through a bit of a rough patch, but I didn’t lose my soul."

"This would be round the time you locked Dru and Darla in a cellar with a bunch of lawyers, and then felt so guilty about it afterwards that you set them on fire. Did you wait till her burns had healed before you slept with her?" Buffy wasn’t about to let up.

"Yes, her burns had healed. Look this isn’t something I want to explain in front of my son. I’m not proud of what happened. All that he needs to know is that in the end Darla loved him enough that she died so that he could be born."

Spike snorted.

"I know what you think but when she was pregnant it was like she had a soul, because Stephen was inside her, she could love, she loved him. He couldn’t be born naturally so she dusted herself so that he could live."

"We’re there, kiddies." Spike stepped on the brakes. "Story time’s over, for now."

Lilah and Wesley stood on the balcony looking down at the bar off to the side of the crowded dance-floor. Lilah spoke condescendingly to the former watcher. "…I just needed to know whether or not I was wasting my time. And to prove we’re still friends. I’ll have her pulled out of there before anything really lethal happens. That way you don’t have to torture yourself as to whether or not you did the right thing."

Wes saw movement on the floor below, a block of people in black leather moved as one through the dancers on the floor, accompanied by a youth Wes hasn’t seen before. He took a step closer to the railing and watched the scene unfold. "I don’t think that will be necessary."

Lilah stepped up next to him and looked down to see Angel along with a shorter man, a youth and a young woman, none of whom she recognised.

Angel turned to his son as they walked through the crowd followed by the two blondes. "Well, you wanted to kill a vampire. This might be your chance." He passed him a stake, keeping the movement as unobtrusive as possible. "Here, take this. It’s a bit easier than trying to behead someone with a six-inch blade. Just make sure when you use that thing that you go straight for—"

"The heart. I know. My father taught me," Stephen interrupted.

"Yeah," answered his biological father. "I’m sure he did. Look, there are a lot of innocent people in here. Just don’t go nailing anybody until they show their game face, okay?"

"Will it look like yours and his did?"

"Yeah." Angel looked across to the bar and recognised Justine.

"So why do you do it?" Stephen’s nod included not only his father but Spike.

"Do what?" asked the brunette.

"Why kill them if they’re like you?"

"They’re not like me, Connor. That’s a question for him." Angel tilted his head back over toward Spike.

"I’m not Connor."

Buffy’s "spider-sense" was tingling. She counted three including the bartender around the woman that Angel seemed to have noticed at the bar and more interspersed throughout the crowd. With the slightest tilt of her head she and Spike split off toward the bar.

"Ready for another?" the bartender asked the redhead. She was half off her barstool, looking past Buffy and Spike as they approached, so Buffy’s guess was that somehow she had picked up on Angel.

She turned back slightly to answer the question. "No, I’m done."

The bartender and the two men who had been sitting on either side of her vamped out, the barman grabbing her the arm. "You're not wrong," he said.

"She thinks she’s a slayer," one of the vamps beside her remarked. There was a tap on his shoulder.

"Actually, that would be me." Buffy smiled brightly as she staked the gawking vamp. Spike meanwhile vaulted the bar just as the bartender pulled Justine up onto the counter. A stake appeared from out of Spike’s sleeve.

"Too bad you’re not going to be around long enough to get her autograph," Spike quipped before he drove a stake through his back and into his heart. Justine’s struggles managed to knock the third vamp back toward the centre of the dance-floor and Angel deftly spun him round and impaled him on his stake. Stephen watched as he turned to dust.

Buffy pulled Justine down off the counter and pushed her in the direction of the exit. "Go, get your ass out of here, and in future leave the job to the professionals."

Spike picked up a bottle of bourbon and placed it on the countertop in case he had a chance to retrieve it later, before vaulting back onto his original side of the bar again. He and Buffy fell into a perfectly synchronised run back toward the centre of the room. Three vamps moved to close in on Angel who now stood in the middle of a clear space on the dance-floor. Before they could reach him Stephen ran toward him and with an impressive jump landed next to him, taking up a position at his back. Spike and Buffy fell in behind them so that the four made up the sides of a square.

Two went for Angel, one choosing Stephen as the easy option, or so he thought.

"We got any more incomin’ or is this it, slayer?"

"There are a couple of shy ones." One of the two on Angel, heard the word slayer and decided to make a bolt for the door. Spike noted that Buffy was using the rather non-aerodynamic Mr Pointy and tossed her one of his stakes.

Seeing two coming in toward the slayer from the opposite side he took a diving roll under her line of sight to come to his feet right in front of the surprised pair. "My guess, you two would be the ones with confidence issues." Spike caught one with a left-handed jab to the nose, which he followed with a roundhouse kick to the temple before grabbing the vamp by the collar and throwing him toward Buffy.

Buffy flipped her new stake in her hand and launched it with an expert aim catching the retreating vampire, square through the heart. The stake fell to the ground and was scooped up by someone at the edge of the crowd. Buffy snapped out a forward kick to land on the jaw of the unfortunate that Spike sent her way, straightening him up long enough for her to drive Mr Pointy through his ribcage and into his heart.

"So did you want this one, pet, or should I just play with him for a bit?" Spike asked as he caught the remaining vamp behind the knee with a low roundhouse kick knocking him off balance.

Buffy noticed the teenager despatch his opponent with apparent ease. "I think maybe you should give him to Stephen. Looks like we missed a few birthdays. Time we made up for it."

"As you wish, pet. Kid! Wanna play?" As he spoke Spike continued to deliver blows that were enough to disorientate his opponent and prevent him mounting an attack of his own. Once he was sure Stephen was aware of the incoming threat, Spike sent the vamp sprawling in his direction.

He turned to watch Stephen in his fight, moving to a position where he could easily intervene if it looked like the boy might be injured, but not about to interfere unless the boy looked like he needed or wanted help. Buffy moved to stand next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder as she also looked on.

"A little help here, guys?" Angel asked. Buffy shrugged and stepped up behind Angel’s admittedly skilful opponent, staking him whilst her ex had him distracted. Angel was just about to move to help his son when Stephen swept his opponent to the floor and staked him by himself.

"Were you actually thinking of helping there or were you just going to let my son get hurt?" Angel glowered at the white-blond vamp.

Spike snorted. "Your son was in no danger of getting hurt. As soon as we were down to less than one each he started playing with ‘im. He could have dusted ‘im five minutes back if he’d wanted to. Kid’s damn good."

Up on the balcony, Lilah watched the blondes at the bar.

"Angel been recruiting lately?"

"Hardly. I thought your firm would have done enough research on Angel’s background for you to recognise that pair. I don’t see why I should give you any hints." Wes looked on captivated by how the pair moved together as if one knew what the other were thinking. With any luck Lilah would have her people looking for a pair of fighters who Angel had known in the past, rather than two separate fighters who had become a pair.

The focus of the fight shifted to the centre of the room and Stephen’s fighting skills became apparent.

Lilah couldn’t help asking, "who’s the Boy Wonder? He moves just like—"

"His father," Wes finished for her, the similarity obvious as the two stood side by side.

As the fight drew to a close, Lilah looked up from the dance-floor. "Now tell me your not interested," she said, before she realised she was talking to the air.

Buffy slid her arms around Spike’s waist, lulling him into a false sense of security. "Did I see you setting up a bottle of bourbon on the bar so you could steal it when the fight was over?"

"Yeah, Ah did." Spike smiled brightly and tried to move toward the bar to retrieve said item before anyone else did, only to find himself working against the power of slayer strength. Realisation suddenly dawned. "Ahh, Sorry, pet. I forgot. Force of habit. You can punish me later in private, so I don’t forget again."

"Hmmph, that might make sense if I could think of something that would punish you without punishing me at the same time. Unless I stop you from watching England’s World Cup matches," Buffy threatened.

"Would hardly warrant that even if I took the bloody bourbon, slayer. For any decent Englishman that would constitute cruel and unusual punishment. It’s in the Geneva Convention. Not allowed."

"Since when have you been a prisoner of war."

"And what else do you call it, love? Haven’t been my own man in years." Spike’s words were low and laced with honey.

The couple made their way to the back door of the club, pausing in the doorway to watch Angel and Stephen mock sparring in the back alley.

"So you think the kid’s good?" Buffy cast an appraising eye over the pair.

"Reckon he’s got a damn sight more natural talent than his father. Whoever taught him’s not bad, but they were no Giles. A few pointers off Cro Magnon there and he’ll be even better."

"Praise indeed. If I didn’t know better I’d say you liked him."

"Well, can’t say as I’ve heard him open his mouth yet, but it’s not like the kid can help who his parents are. As somebody who lived through twenty years in that household, I kinda feel sorry for the poor bugger," Spike responded. "If it was still Angelus that was around and not the Poof, I’d say whoever kidnapped him did him a favour."

"I wouldn’t let him hear you say that," Buffy cautioned.

"Before Robin, there, interfered I think I pretty much earned the right to say what the hell I want, at least I assume it was the kid that knocked me out."

"It was the kid, and I want to know what that bit about vampire etiquette that I’m not supposed to know is."

"Bloody slayer hearing. I think you’ll find that neither me nor the Poof are prepared to tell you."

"We’ll see… Let’s head back. I want to talk to Cordelia some more before I leave."

"I doubt she’ll be able to tell you either."

"Not about that, maybe…"

The couple took a wide berth round the father and son, not noticing the old man watching from a fire escape up above the alley. When the kid ran past them Spike just thought he was in a hurry to get to the car, or, God forbid, the Brood Monster had lightened up enough to give him a race. When he ran past the car and disappeared into the distance Spike looked back to see what his grandsire’s reaction would be. Spike vowed to have some champagne sent to the hotel as soon as he could. The dour old git was actually smiling, a proper decent smile, not one of those half smiles he used to manage once in a blue moon.

"Slayer wants to talk to Vision Girl some more. Think she’ll still be around when we drop you back at the hotel?" Spike asked.

"Probably, she likes to hang around until she knows how these things work out. Besides, I think it’s time you and I had a nice private chat," the older vampire replied.

Spike turned to Buffy. "Slayer, tell him which order the teeth marks and the engagement ring came in."

"Engagement ring first, teeth marks a few hours later."

"Now tell him why there isn’t a matching set on my neck."

"We’re waiting on Giles doing some research to make sure the bond won’t leave me needing SPF 3000, or allergic to holy water or anything like that," Buffy replied. "Otherwise, you bet I’d get my own back."

"Last time you were enthralled by a vampire, did you know what was going on."

"Well, I didn’t know what it was at first, but yeah, I knew it was something and then I found out it was thrall." Buffy wondered how many more of these questions Spike was going to ask.

"How long did it last?"

"Until I tasted his blood."

"Have I ever tried to use a thrall or anything similar on you?" Spike probed.

"No. You’d class that as cheating."

"You don’t think that maybe I’m so good at it you don’t know what’s happening?"

"Yeah, like you’d be better at it than Dracula, besides I bit you hard enough to draw blood on Sunday night. I’d have noticed it being weakened if nothing else," Buffy derided the very premise on which the question was based.

"The defence rests." Spike turned from Buffy to Angel. "Still want that private talk or have we covered everything except the empty threat?"

"It wouldn’t be an empty threat."

"Yeah, right. Red or the watcher would do me months before you even knew what was happening. And I wouldn’t be able to fight back against either of them. Chip doesn’t stop me kicking your ass."

"How did you manage to claim Buffy if that chip’s still working?" Angel looked for the hole in Spike’s arguments that he knew must exist somewhere.

"It would appear that since she was resurrected Buffy’s a bit more special than your average human." Spike’s explanation was rather more diplomatic than the one he had given Buffy.

"So you can hurt her?" the older vamp questioned the pair.

"Wouldn’t be much good as her sparring partner otherwise," Spike responded, his smirk hinting at more layers of meaning than the obvious. "We done yet?"

"Yeah, for now." The older vamp gave his grudging agreement.

"Good." Spike started the car and headed toward the hotel.

Chapter 2.06

When they got back to the hotel Buffy cornered Cordelia in the office, while Spike was left to be entertained by Lorne, which was fine by him because Lorne knew his way round the hotel’s liquor supply. Angel headed straight for his room.

"Look, Cordelia, Angel gave me the Cliff Notes version of what was going on. What I want to know is, what’s the deal with Wes? Angel wasn’t real forthcoming and I’ve got too used to dealing with Spike where he comes on out and says what’s on his mind. I don’t have time or patience to try to wheedle what I want to know out of Angel, so spill."

"Wes found a prophesy that said Angel was going to kill Connor. Wolfram & Hart got to Angel’s blood supply and dosed it with Conn—"

"Who is Connor?"

"Those must have been really short Cliff Notes. Connor is Angel’s son. Stephen is the name Holtz gave him," Cordy explained

"Holtz being the guy who kidnapped him, right?"

"Anyway, so the lawyers tampered with Angel’s blood and mixed in some of Connor’s blood that they must have stolen from the hospital."

"The point of that being…" Buffy wondered what this had to do with Wes.

"To make Connor smell like food to Angel. By the time we realised what the problem was Angel had to keep his distance a bit from the kid, which if you saw him the rest of the time you would know was nearly impossible for him.

Wes translated this ancient prophesy that said Angel would kill his son, but instead of telling anyone he just offered to look after the kid overnight. It was only because Lorne picked up on his singing when he was trying to keep the baby quiet as he packed up that we found out what he was going to do, but that was only after we found Lorne knocked unconscious when we got back from somewhere else.

By the time we went after him, Wes was already lying on the grass outside his apartment block with his throat slit from ear to ear and Holtz had the baby. Angel caught up with Holtz about the same time the Wolfram & Hart’s combat squad hit the scene. Holtz’s demon friend created a rip in the fabric of the universe and Holtz went through it to Quor-toth while Angel was busy dealing with Lilah and her guys.

Fred and Gunn found Wes’ notes and realised why he’d done what he did, but it took them till the next morning to find Wes himself. Somebody had gone through his pockets and then moved him where he was less likely to be noticed. They had him taken to hospital and they explained to Angel about the prophecy, which we later found out was false and planted by the same time travelling non-corporeal demon that was helping Holtz. Angel went to see Wes in the hospital. They had to pull him off him. He tried to smother him while he was still flat on his back."

"So the guy made a judgement call and got it wrong, and now he’s supposed to walk away from everyone he knows. From everything he’s helped build up over the last two and a half years? Have any of you been to see him? Do you even know if he’s out of hospital?"

"Fred took some of his things that he’d left in the office over to his apartment and told him not to come back. Gunn went to him behind Angel’s back for help when Fred’s life was in danger and he made it clear that he would only help that one time, he wasn’t going to be there for us again."

"So it’s like a divorce case, only Angel gets all the friends and his job and Wes is left with no income and no-one to care whether he lives or dies."

"He hurt Angel. And he helped those people deprive him of his son’s childhood." Cordelia’s voice hardened.

"He did what he thought he had to, to protect the kid. He was wrong. Don’t you think having his throat slit and having someone try to smother him might be punishment enough? Don’t you people understand there’s two sides to an argument? I can see that expecting Angel to come round might be a bit much to ask, but how could the rest of you all just fall into line as if none of you have ever made a mistake in your lives.

I tried to kill Xander and Willow and my kid sister and they all forgave me. The guy just did the best he could with the information he had. Get me his address."

Cordy flicked the Rolodex on the desk and then pulled out a card from it and held it out toward Buffy.

"What’re you going to do?" she asked keeping hold of her side of the card until Buffy answered.

"See if I can get him a second chance."

Buffy strode out of the office, coat and hair flowing behind her, a picture of righteous indignation.

Spike knocked back the rest of his drink and tossed the empty glass to Lorne. "Looks like we’re on the move." He fell in next to his beloved without even bothering to ask where they were going.

Spike manoeuvred the car easily through the traffic. The directions on the card were plain and concise and he had no trouble following them. Buffy meanwhile was attempting to use up Spike’s mobile phone credit at the fastest possible rate.

"Buffy, it’s half five in the morning there. Rupert is not going to be best chuffed if you ring him now."

"I’m not going to go to Wes and tell him maybe I can get him a shit job and he might be able to whatever. If the best I can do is get him a job in the magic shop then I at least want to be able to tell him outright now. The guy made a mistake, now there’s not one of them stayed in touch, just go looking for him when they needed him, and he’s lost his job. One mistake and they’ve taken away his whole life."

"Getting a bit excited about the whole thing aren’t you, love?"

"It just pisses me off. It’s like that crowd Cordy used to run with in high school. All hanging on her every word. Whatever she thought, they thought. Only now it’s what Angel thinks. Angel doesn’t like Wes so Wes all but gets run out of town. Angel tried to kill him, tried to smother him in his hospital bed, but that was Angel and he'd just lost his child so that was fine by everybody."

"Take a deep breath and count to ten, then speak to Rupert."

Buffy took his advice. The phone rang for a considerable length of time before it was answered.

"Buffy, do you know what time it is over here? I’m not here solely to resolve your romantic problems." Giles’ voice took on that tone he used when he was irritated but trying patiently to explain something to someone of lower intellectual capacity.

"How did you know it was me? And half past five in the morning?"

"Precisely. I sincerely hope you’re not about to tell me you just discovered that you’re having a reaction to holy water, although I trust it is something along those lines of magnitude for you to be calling me at this hour."

"How do I put this? You know these annoying phone calls you get at half five in the morning? If we had someone in Sunnydale with say… watcher type experience, then we might not have to make so many of them."

"Yes, I’m sure. Your point being?"

"Angel and Wesley have had a bit of a falling out. The long and short is that no-one is talking to Wes and he hasn’t got a job any more. I thought that maybe we could pinch him, if say there was a job waiting for him in Sunnydale. I mean Will- Spike can cope with Latin but Wes is going to know loads of languages and stuff we don’t. He could really speed up our research times and save us having to pester you, but it doesn’t seem fair asking him to move without at least a job offer."

"You want me to offer Wesley Wyndham-Price a job at The Magic Box?"

"Well, duh."

"And that’s why you rang me at five thirty in the morning?"

"I kinda wanted to go see him straight away. In fact, we’re pulling up outside his flat now, and I don’t know how long we’ll be in LA and if I left it till it was an okay time to ring you it would be too late to visit him tonight."

"Yes, Buffy."

"Is that yes he can have a job?" Buffy almost bounced in her seat.

"Yes, give him my number and get him to ring at a civilised hour if he’s interested and we’ll sort out the details and I’ll contact Anya."

"Thank you, Giles. Have I told you lately what a nice person you are and how much I love you?"

"Not for some time." Buffy could hear the smile in his voice.

"Hey, I’ve been practising. Will doesn’t have to be the only one to reap the benefit. We’ll ring you at a civilised hour when we’re back in Sunnydale. Love you. Bye."

"Love you too, Buffy."

The two blondes stood outside the apartment door. Buffy’s fiery mood having got the pair of them so far, seemed to have failed her.

"Am I doing the right thing?" Buffy asked, suddenly nervous about taking such a pushy role in the life of someone who had been, theoretically at least, an authority figure. She held Spike’s right hand in her left and her thumb traced backwards and forwards over his palm not as a caress but as a sign of her nervousness.

"Don’t know, love. Never met the bloke. Can’t say how he’ll take it and I can’t say how he’ll get on with everyone. I can say we could use someone with a bit more of that sort of background and I’ll be pleased if the watcher stops lookin’ to me to be the adult in charge of the kindergarten. I’m fed up of getting’ the blame for not stoppin’ that lot when they do somethin’ stupid, as if they’d listen to me in the first place.

There’s only one way to find out, pet." Buffy gave his hand a quick squeeze drawing comfort just from his presence and knocked on the door.

They waited for some time, but there was no response.

"Bugger this for a game of soldiers." Spike used his fist to bray repeatedly on the door, the noise soon followed by some high volume questioning.

"What the bloody hell have English manners come to when a supposed gentleman leaves a lady stood outside his door while he sits inside munchin’ on…" Spike sniffed. "… pizza flavour soddin’ Dori—" The door to the flat opened to reveal a rather dishevelled Wes still wearing the same clothes he had on in the club except for the jacket. "…Tos?" Spike concluded at a normal conversational level, his free hand running swiftly through his blond locks.

"Buffy and if I’m not mistaken Spike. This is a surprise." Wes’s tone was cool and he made no move to invite either of them in.

Buffy shrugged. "We were in town. Thought I’d renew old acquaintances."

Spike could almost see the former watcher trying to come to a decision. "Maybe this isn’t the place, pet? Could be Wes here knows a decent pub nearby?" he suggested, giving the watcher an easy way out.

"You’re right. I do. Perhaps we should adjourn. I’ll just fetch my jacket," Wes replied. He disappeared out of sight behind the door, only to return a few minutes later wearing a heavy black wool casual jacket.

The three walked out of the apartment block in silence before Spike broke the embarrassed silence. "Heard the Poof and you weren’t on best of terms."

"If you mean Angel, then I believe that would be a euphemistic turn of phrase," was Wes’s dry response.

"Poof… yeah, there’s plenty worse things I could and have called him in my time, but not in front of a lady."

The two men eyed each other up and down. Spike had been led to expect Giles jnr. with a better suit, but without the Ripper element. Instead he was pretty sure the man in front of him could handle himself. He had no false airs, although from his upper class accent, he obviously came from a privileged background. He could appreciate his dry wit. Spike was definitely warming to the idea of having the other Englishman around. Now if they had the same idea as to what constituted a decent pub, they were definitely in business.

"Buffy," Wes prompted gently. "I must say that I’m surprised given the nature of our previous relationship that you would get in touch."

"I never had a problem with you personally, just the Council indoctrination and the prig-like tendencies that go with. Seems to me Quentin wouldn’t approve of you now," Buffy argued.

Spike snorted. "She means that as a compliment. Coming from her they’re few and far between so make the most of it, mate."

"I meant that he seems to have changed but that the changes all seem to be for the good. And who says I’m mean with the compliments. It’s just you don’t do much to deserve any," Buffy countered though her tone was far from serious.

Spike raised that scarred eyebrow, and when Buffy glanced over in his direction he ran the tip of his tongue over his gleaming white upper teeth. Just the gesture was enough to set off a tingle low in her stomach and she flushed scarlet as she remembered the effusive encouragement that seemed to flow from her in torrents when his head lay between her legs. Having achieved his goal Spike pulled his cigarette pack from his pocket and flicking the top open he ducked his head to the packet to draw one out between his lips rather than release Buffy’s hand. He reached across Buffy and held the pack out in Wes’s direction before returning the pack to his pocket and pulling out his lighter.

Wes looked over at the couple. From what he’d seen so far, it seemed certain that the two shared a very intimate relationship, especially if the marks on the slayer’s neck weren’t the result of a recent skirmish gone awry, and having viewed their performance in the club that was doubtful.

"You’ll pardon me if I say that you both seem far closer than I would expect Rupert to be pleased about," Wes commented.

"Can’t imagine that I’d be his first choice," Spike admitted, "but he can’t be too brassed off considerin’ he’s agreed to give away the bride."

"You’re engaged?" Wes was unable to hide his surprise.

The couple raised their joined hands and tilted them till Wes could see the ring. "S’why we’re in this neck of the woods to begin with. Reckoned it was better to head off the Avenging Angel before he heard some fifth-hand tale and came swoopin’ into Sunnydale."

"And did the plan work?"

"Let’s say Angel’s sporting a mark not dissimilar to the slayer’s, but I’ve got a nice lump on the top of me ‘ead where ‘is kid knocked me out, so we both get to claim we didn’t lose. He’s keepin’ ‘is trap shut for now so I suppose it’s as much as we dare hope for." As he spoke the last few words the group moved through the doors into a smoky dimly lit bar. Spike grinned as they moved deeper into the bar.

"What’s got you so happy?" Buffy asked.

"Music. Any pub that has that mad pissed bugger on the juke box can’t be all bad." Buffy didn’t recognise the song at all. It sounded almost like folk music, but then she would have been about six when the album came out and the language wasn’t anything you’d play in front of a kid. That particular group had bypassed her generation except for "Fairytale of New York" making itself known round Christmas time and the track from the old Murphy’s ads, not that she knew who had done that.

Spike sighed when he saw her blank look. "Shane MacGowan, lead singer with the Pogues and writer of most of their original material. Total pisshead and was even when we used to go to all the same gigs and pubs a quarter of a century ago."

"You knew him?"

"Not to talk to, just one of those faces you used to see everywhere you went, a sort of nodding acquaintance. You couldn’t miss him like, he used to have this suit jacket he wore everywhere like a great big union jack front and back and he was never exactly shy and retiring." Spike’s voice was almost wistful as he thought back to London in punk’s heyday. For about three years he and Dru had shuttled back and forth between London and New York as the whim took them.

"What’s your pleasure?" Breaking away from his reverie, Spike looked from Wes to Buffy.

"I’ll have a pint of the guest ale," Wes answered.

"Something fruity?" suggested the slayer. Spike rolled his eyes but headed for the bar anyway.

The slayer and former watcher chose a table and settled in on opposite sides while they waited on the vampire’s return.

"So what is this really about, Buffy?" Wes asked when they were alone.

"We heard what happened between you and Angel. I don’t know if you know that Giles moved back to the Mother Country, but we’ve been sorta research-challenged. It really would be better if we had someone with your sort of expertise on site." Buffy looked at the table and raced through the rest of her spiel before she could back out.

"We don’t charge for all the demon hunting and stuff so we can’t pay you, at least not for that, but Giles says that if you want a job at the magic shop it’s yours. You just need to ring him at a civilised hour and you can sort out the details between you. I don’t know how the wages would compare or anything. And if something else came up that suited you better it’s not like you’d be obligated, or if this lot came to their senses… or maybe you own your apartment or something and can’t move, whatever. But we could use your help… assuming you haven’t ended up too addicted to Passions to think about going back to work."

"A week isn’t long enough for me to start watching daytime soaps, let alone become an addict. As to the rest of it I would have to discuss the whole situation with Giles before I could make a decision, though I must say it leaves certain other offers standing." Wes managed a half smile. "At least yours didn’t come with a reminder that I’m doomed to the ninth circle of hell."

"You are?" Spike asked as he deposited two identical pints on the table before pulling a bottle of Bacardi Breezer from his jeans front pocket. "I would say that I’d see you there, least that’s what most demons seem to think or they would if the knew their Dante, but a certain someone made me promise I’d do my best to achieve the impossible." Spike slid into a chair on the slayer’s left claiming her hand again.

"You have other plans, I take it?" Wes queried.

"Buffy, here, seems to think I have the potential to be the first evil soulless thing to make it to heaven. Says she’ll take it personal if I don’t. So if I’m supposed to avoid damnation, I don’t see why you shouldn’t, being all soul-havin’ an’ all." Spike made it sound as if he was suggesting a walk in the park. "’Sides, you didn’t betray him, you just tried to protect his kid for him. If all the information you had said he was the threat, don’t see that what you did was wrong, and it took guts not to bring in any of the rest of them, to take all the responsibility. Just a pity they’re all too blinkered to see it.

Cheers, mate." Spike raised a glass to the bemused ex-watcher.

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