Title: Enemy Incognito

Author: Wynn

E-mail: effulgent_sun@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy, Spike, etc. Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Twentieth Century Fox, etc. own them. I’m just borrowing them to tell my perverse little tale.

AN: Once again, thanks to everyone who took the time to read my story and thanks to my beta, SpikeLover7.

Chapter Five: Unexpected Arrivals

By: Wynn

Approaching the door to the Magic Box, she hesitated. She took a deep breath and another step forward before stopping again. Moving to the window, she cautiously peered inside. Drop cloths were spread throughout the shop and scaffolding sat underneath a large hole in the roof. She could see Giles on the scaffolding talking to Xander, Buffy and Dawn painting a wall in the back of the shop, and Anya applying putty to a wall near the entrance. She turned from the window and closed her eyes. She couldn’t face everyone. Not yet. Not after everything she had done to them. Opening her eyes and clenching her fists, she stared out into the busy Main Street of Sunnydale. Everyone was so complacent in their ignorance of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of the world. Shadows she herself had reveled in. Sighing softly, she turned and peered inside the Magic Box again.
 

***

“It shouldn’t be too hard to fix. None of the studs were damaged, so you won’t have to try to replace those. That would’ve been expensive. All you’ll need is some plaster, insulation, a few shingles, and you’ll be back in business.” Xander rubbed the back of his neck. He examined the jagged tear in the ceiling and continued, “I’ll talk to a guy I know through work. He owes me a favor, so he should be able to fix this in a day or two.”

Giles nodded. “Thank you, Xander.”

Xander shrugged. “No problem. It’s the least I could do. I know how much the shop means to you.” He looked past the Watcher to his ex-fiancée. “And to Anya.” Refocusing on Giles, he asked, “Is there anything else? Are you going to rebuild the loft?”

“I’m not certain. Rebuilding the shop was not my idea. It was Anya who wanted to keep the Magic Box despite the work necessary to repair it.” He removed his glasses and wiped them on the hem of his white t-shirt. His gaze traveled from polishing his glasses to his young companion’s face. “You’ll… ah… have to talk to her about the plans for the shop.” Replacing his glasses, Giles moved to the edge of the scaffolding. “I should see if Buffy and Dawn need help painting.” He descended the ladder without waiting for Xander to reply.

For a moment, the brunette stared at the hole in the ceiling. Willow had left Sunnydale a week and a half ago; she still had not contacted him or Buffy. ‘Probably for the best. Everyone’s still on edge.’ Moving to the edge of the scaffolding, Xander looked at his ex-fiancée. They had barely spoken to each other since the end of Willow’s revenge trip against the leftover Nerds; what they did say to each other was muffled mumblings about the shop’s repairs. Xander ran his fingers through his hair, smoothed his navy t-shirt, and climbed down the ladder. Walking over to Anya, he said, “Hey.”

The blonde vengeance demon tensed. Placing the jar of putty on the floor, she wiped her hands on her jeans and faced Xander. She smiled tightly. “Hey.”

Swallowing, Xander said, “Ah… the roof should be repaired in a few days. I asked Giles about rebuilding the loft, but he didn’t know.” He paused. “He said I should talk to you about it.”

“He did?”

“Yeah.”

The two stood in silence, looking anywhere in the shop but at each other. Out of the corner of his eye, Xander saw a shadow flit past the Magic Box’s window. Dismissing the apparition, he glanced at Anya and said, “Um… about the loft?”

“Oh,” Anya inspected the blank back wall where the Magic Box’s loft used to reside. After a moment’s contemplation, she said, “Yes, I want to replace-”

“Do you want to have coffee sometime?”

“What?”

Xander fidgeted under the blonde’s steady gaze. His gaze flickered from her to the floor. “I asked if you wanted to have coffee sometime. With me. I thought that we could… talk.” Lifting his head, Xander sought his ex-fiancée’s golden-flecked brown eyes. “If you want to, that is. I mean… I think we have a lot we need to talk about, or I have a lot I need to explain, and I would like to. Explain.”

Anya’s face softened. “That wouldn’t be horrible,” she said. “I like coffee.”

Xander smiled. “Great.” The door to the Magic Box jingled. “How about to...” He trailed off as he recognized the figure hovering by the open door. Turning, he locked eyes with Buffy. The blonde Slayer edged in front of Dawn, set her paintbrush on the floor, and looked at the woman by the door.

The woman’s hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she wore a pair of rumpled black pants and a tank top; her nails were bitten to the quick. She smiled nervously at the silent Scooby Gang and set her battered brown suitcase on the floor.

“Hey, guys,” Willow said.

***

The two vampires trudged through the dank sewer water. Each carried a large battle-ax coated in green demon slime, which was the same substance that covered the pair from head to toe. Spike wiped a glob of the green goo off the tip of his nose; a disgusted look crossed his face. The group of Florvak demons he and Angel had pursued for information had put up one hell of a fight, but ultimately, they were not a match for the vampires. Which was unfortunate for Spike and Angel because Florvak demons had green sludge for blood that tended to stick to every surface it came across.

“I have to say that that was probably the most disgusting situation I have ever been in,” Spike told Angel as he attempted to fling the goo that stuck to his hand. “And I’ve been in some weird situations before.”

Angel smirked. “You’re just mad because your formerly blonde hair is now lime green.”

Spike inspected Angel’s hair. “You brown poof isn’t looking too good either, Peaches.” He sighed as he realized the slime was not flinging itself off of his fingers. “At least tell me you got the info you needed.”

"Yeah,” Angel muttered. “I got the information. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but I got it.” The Florvak demons were the last known entities to have seen Connor and Holtz. The brunette was silent as he inspected the blade of his battle-ax. Scraping dried demon blood off the edge of the blade, he continued, “Hopefully the lead Fred and Gunn are tracking down will pan out too.”

Spike regarded the older vampire. Angel had told him about Connor a week ago; the tale of the liaison between the brunette and the resurrected-human-turned-vampire Darla was almost as unbelievable as his own relationship with Buffy. Spike knew that Connor’s betrayal was consuming Angel’s thoughts, as was the absence of Cordelia, the ex-cheerleader turned seer turned half-demon whom Angel had fallen in love with. Shaking his head, Spike snorted.

Angel looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” Spike paused as the duo ascended the ladder that led to the basement of the Hyperion. “I was just thinking of how complicated everything’s become. Used to be so simple. Feed, fuck, sleep. Now it’s falling in love with your mortal enemy, two vampires having a kid…”

“Welcome to the real world.” They exited the basement and were assaulted by the raucous sound of rock music blaring from the hotel. “What the hell is that?”

“Nirvana,” Spike said as the pair moved closer to the Hyperion’s lobby. Spike followed Angel as they crept past the empty office and lobby desk into the hotel’s sitting room. A stereo and a set of large speakers sat in the middle of an arrangement of chairs. Sprawled across one of the plush chairs, feet tapping with the beat of the music and broad smile on her face, was a young brunette dressed in black. A stake was clasped in her right hand.

“Hey, Angel. Miss me?”

One corner of Angel’s mouth quirked up as he said, “Faith.”

***

Tension spread throughout the Magic Box. Willow glanced at Xander, then Buffy; she shuffled next to her suitcase. Tara had been right. This wasn’t going to be easy. How do you tell your best friends you’re sorry for jumping on the black magic train, physically and mentally torturing them, and attempting to destroy the world? Hallmark didn’t make a card for this. Taking a deep breath, she faced her friends… her family.

Buffy moved into the center of the shop, hazel eyes fixed on her best friend and most recent enemy. Willow returned her steady gaze, her fidgeting hands betraying her nervousness. “Willow.”

The redhead gave a slight wave. “Hey, Buffy… Xander.”

Xander walked over to his best friend and gathered her into a hug. “I’m glad you came back,” he said. He smoothed her hair with his hand. “We were worried about you.”

“Yeah… Me, too.” She broke the hug and squeezed Xander’s hand. Turning toward the blonde Slayer, Willow slowly approached her friend, stopping when she saw Buffy tense. Taking a deep breath, Willow said, “I’m sorry. I- I know that’s not enough. And that it never will be. But it’s true.” Her faded green eyes glistened with tears. She looked at her best friend and said, “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” Buffy closed the distance between herself and Willow. She reached out and embraced the redhead, holding her tight. Pulling back, she peered at her friend; Willow’s face was gaunt and dark circles rimmed her closed eyes. Buffy smoothed a lock of hair behind Willow’s ear and said, “I know.”

“Hello, Willow.”

Brushing a few stray tears off her cheek, Willow faced Giles. He stood a few paces behind the pair and studied the redhead. Moving forward, she stopped in front of her one time mentor and friend. “Giles… I’m sorry about the shop.” Her eyes drifted to his face and then down to her hands. “And for everything else.”

A sad smile crossed the Watcher’s face. He laid a hand on her shoulder and said, “I’m just glad that you are alright. We can replace the shop. We can’t replace you.”

A wan smile crossed her face. “Not so sure about that…” She looked towards the rear of the store where Anya, during the course of the apologies, had crossed the store and stood next to a frozen Dawn. “Hey Dawnie.”

Flinching, Dawn took a few steps back. She gazed at Willow with cold, hurt eyes. “Don’t call me Dawnie.”

Buffy moved towards her sister. “Dawn…”

Dawn glared at Buffy. “What? Am I supposed to act like everything’s Ok because she said she was sorry? Everything is not Ok. She wanted to kill me, Buffy. She didn’t just try to… she wanted me dead. She wanted you dead and Giles and Anya. And I’m just supposed to forgive her for trying to kill my family because of one ‘I’m sorry?’”

“Dawn…”

Willow interrupted her friend. “No, Buffy. Dawn’s right.” She looked at her surrogate little sister and said, “I don’t know what else to say, Dawn, except I’m sorry. I don’t want you dead. Not now and not ever.”

Xander approached the center of the store and stood opposite Buffy, on the other side of Willow. “Dawn, she didn’t know what she was doing. She-”

Dawn rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “Whatever, Xander. Willow knew exactly what she was doing.”

The fractured Scooby Gang was silent in their tense circle inside the Magic Box. The air felt heavy with pain and sorrow and guilt accumulated during the past few weeks, the past few years. The fights and the lies and the betrayals and the hurt they had caused to each other seemed insurmountable. They were fragile, hollow, shadows of the selves they had been six years ago. All had hit rock bottom and they were desperately trying to claw back from destruction and despair.

Willow cleared her throat. “Maybe I should just go.” She turned from the group and headed to the shop’s entrance.

“No.” Xander grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop. “You’re not leaving again. We’ll get through this. All of us.”

The lifelong friends stared at each other, oblivious to the rest of the world. Silent communication passed between them and, nodding softly, Willow said, “I- I’m tired. It’s been a… rough week.”

Buffy pulled her keys out of her pants pocket. “Ok, we’ll take you home. Are you coming Dawn?”

“No.”

The blonde Slayer grabbed Willow’s suitcase and headed for the door. “I’ll see you later then.”

“No, you won’t.” As her sister turned, Dawn stood resolute. “I don’t want to stay there if she’s there.”

Gritting her teeth, Buffy set the suitcase back on the floor. “Dawn…”

“No. ”

Xander interrupted the sister standoff. “She can stay with me.” To Willow, he said, “You can sleep on the sofa, if you want.”

A brief smile crossed Willow’s face. “Thanks, Xander.”

“No problem.” He locked eyes with Anya. She stared at him in shock. Glancing between her ex-fiancée and his best friend, she shook her head, turned, and left the Magic Box, the door to the training room slamming behind her.

Xander took a few steps towards the door to the training room. “Anya. Anya!”

Giles stepped in front of Xander, blocking his path. “You need to attend to Willow. Make sure she eats something and gets some rest. I’ll make sure Anya is alright.”

“But-”

“Xander. Willow needs you.”

He stared at the closed door to the training room and slowly nodded. Turning, he walked with Willow to the shop’s entrance, lifted her suitcase, and left the shop.

* * *

Title: Enemy Incognito

Author: Wynn

E-mail: effulgent_sun@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters of BtVS. Never have and never will. Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, etc. own them. I’m just borrowing them to tell my story.

Chapter Six: Sinister Beginnings

By: Wynn

Faith sprang from the plush chair. A hard kick sent the chair crashing into Angel, knocking him into the stereo and onto the floor. Pouncing like a sleek, black panther, Faith tackled Spike. The pair rolled end over end until she gained the upper hand and pinned the blonde to the floor. She straddled his chest. One of his arms was pinned between her thighs while the other was held roughly in Faith’s left hand. Her right hand held her stake, which was pressed over Spike’s green goo covered heart.

Flipping a strand of hair out of her eyes, Faith fixed her dark gaze on Angel. “Why’re you hanging with Blondie, Angel? Or should I say Angelus? Did you lose your soul while I was locked up, or did you decide to go evil once and for all?”

Angel struggled to sit up. Knocking the chair and speakers off of him, he pulled himself into a sitting position and glared at the brunette Slayer. “Faith, I haven’t lost my soul. And I haven’t done anything evil in a long time. Neither has Spike. He has a government chip in his head-”

“I know about the chip.”

“Then you know he can’t hurt anyone.”

Faith sighed. “Come on, Angel. A chip wouldn’t stop someone from being bad if they really wanted to be.” She pressed the stake harder into Spike’s chest. “Why is he here?”

“Why don’t you ask me yourself, you daft cow,” Spike growled. “I do possess the ability to speak.”

“I don’t care one way or another, Blondie. Is this some plan of yours to try to kill Angel? I won’t let you.”

Spike sighed. “That’s touching. Really. I don’t want the Poofter dead. You, on the other hand-”

“Spike,” Angel said as he glared at the pinned vampire. “Faith, would you look at us? Both of us are covered in Florvak blood. We both came back from fighting demons. He’s not here to kill me, and I’m not evil, so you can let him up now.”

She stared at Angel as she contemplated his words and the vampires’ appearances. Both were covered in dried green demon blood; two battle-axes lay on the floor. Slowly, she removed the stake from Spike’s chest and stepped off of the prone vampire. Holding down a hand, she helped him off the floor.

Spike stepped close to Faith. Leaning down, he whispered, “Just a word of warning. If you’re here to try to kill Angel or myself, I won’t let you. I may have a chip in my head, but like you said it won’t stop me from hurting someone if I really want to.”

Faith arched an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Pulling the fallen chair upright, Angel slunk down into it, hands rubbing his temples. Wearily, he looked at Faith. “How did you get here? Did you break out of prison?”

“No. I was released early. For good behavior.”

Spike snorted.

“Yeah, it came as a shock to me too. Figured I would be in prison for the rest of my natural life. But they let me go about a week ago, on the condition that I return to Sunnydale to serve the remainder of my sentence out doing community service.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed at her admission. “Community service in Sunnydale?”

Faith shrugged. “Government speak for returning to the Hellmouth and becoming an active Slayer again with Giles as my Watcher.”

Spike moved next to Angel and pulled the stereo and speakers upright. Clicking the eject button on the CD player, he examined the Nirvana disc appreciatively. “Hate to break it to you, ducks, but Rupert isn’t in Sunnyhell anymore. He moved to England last November. Hasn’t been back since.”

Confusion spread across the brunette’s face. “They told me that he was back in Sunnydale.”

“Well, they told you wrong.”

“Maybe not,” Angel said. “You left a month ago. It’s possible Giles could have returned during that time.” He glanced at Faith. “So if you’re supposed to be in Sunnydale, why are you here?”

She fidgeted as her gaze bounced between Angel and Spike. Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she said, “The last trip I made to the Hellmouth didn’t turn out so hot. I screwed B over. Stole her body, slept with her boyfriend… she’s probably still pissed.”

“What?” Spike asked as he looked at Faith. “You stole her body? When was this?”

Faith glanced at the blonde warily. “About two years ago… nobody told you about the body switch?” As Spike shook his head, she continued, “Do you remember that night in the Bronze? B came up to you, all glammed out, and taunted you, teased you, and left you high and dry. ‘I could have anything… anyone… even you Spike.’ Under the stairs in the Bronze. Remember?”

“That was you. In Buffy’s body.”

Faith nodded. “Yeah… I slept with B’s man, too. I doubt he wants to see me again.”

Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Riley? I’m happy to say Captain Cardboard left Sunnyhell, so I don’t think Buffy’ll be mad at you for sleeping with the idiot.” Turning to Angel, he said, “He left before her mum died. Went to some vamp whores, got a suck job while he was still with Buffy.” He snorted. “He staked me good and proper for telling her about his indiscretions… it was a plastic stake, though.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “I never did like him.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

“Still,” Faith said, “between that and everything that went down during Graduation, we’re not exactly on the best of terms. I- I don’t know what to say to her, to convince her that I’m not the way I used to be. That I want to do the right thing.” She looked at Angel. “I thought maybe you would help me. I don’t want to fuck everything up again.”

Angel and Spike looked at each other. The blonde shrugged. Turning to Faith, Angel said, “So you want to stay here a while?”

“Yeah… if you’re not too pissed about being knocked over with a chair.”

Angel sighed. “If you and Spike can refrain from killing each other, you can stay.” He moaned and closed his eyes. “What have I done? Invited you two to live in my hotel… I must be crazy.”

Spike smirked. “Like I said, the prolonged exposure to ocean water turned your brain to mush. Now you make stupid decisions like taking in me and the bird.”

Arching an eyebrow, Faith asked, “Ocean water?”

“He’ll fill you in,” Angel told Faith as he stood and shuffled past her. “Need to take an aspirin… maybe a shot of tequila… definitely a few weeks worth of sleep… Leave the weapons cabinet alone and don’t kill each other or I will be forced to kill the both of you…” He trailed off as he drifted out of the sitting room, past the lobby, and up the main staircase, leaving his two wayward houseguests alone in the silent hotel.
 

***

Giles opened the back door of the Magic Box and peered into the training room. He saw Anya sitting on the couch, arms folded, mouth set in a grim line. A few tracks of tears lined her face. Easing the door shut behind him, he walked to the couch and sat beside her. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“No. I don’t understand why I still feel this way. And I don’t understand how he can still hurt me. And I don’t understand how he can’t forgive me when he’s already forgiven perfect Willow.” She turned to Giles and whispered, “I didn’t do anything wrong, so why do I feel so bad?”

Laying a hand on her head, Giles said, “I don’t profess to know what happened between you and Xander-”

“He left me at the altar, I became a vengeance demon again, and I slept with Spike.”

“-But I feel that he is more embarrassed now than angry.” He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Anya. “He seems to have acted rashly and doesn’t know how to set things right.”

Anya wiped a few stray tears off her face. “He asked me out for coffee so we could ‘talk.’” Her eyes clouded over with pain and anger. “But then Willow came back and he went to her and invited her to stay at our house. She went psycho and tried to kill everyone, but since she’s Willow, everything’s Ok now that she said she’s sorry.”

“Willow and Xander have been best friends since childhood, so it is only natural that he is quick to forgive her. Bonds like that are not easily broken.”

Returning Giles’ handkerchief, Anya shook her head and sighed. “I guess you have to be in the inner circle of you, Buffy, Willow, and Xander to get unconditional forgiveness. Or even the slightest acceptance.”

“That is not true.”

Anya stood and paced the length of the training room. “Isn’t it? Buffy tried to kill them, but everything’s Ok because she was drugged. Willow tried to kill us, but everything’s Ok because she was grieving. Xander dumps me two minutes before we’re supposed to get married and leaves without a word, but it’s Ok because he’s Xander.” She stopped and locked eyes with Giles. “But I sleep with Spike and I’m wrong. I become a vengeance demon again, and without even doing any vengeance, I’m on the outside. And Spike was never accepted, not even after he got thrown off a hundred foot tower trying to protect Dawn.” She closed her eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she continued, “Maybe you’re right Giles. Maybe you don’t have to be in the inner circle to be forgiven. You just have to be human. Apparently, demons don’t deserve forgiveness.”

“Anya-”

She held up her hand. “Thank you for listening, Giles, but I want to be alone right now. I’ll be back tomorrow to finish the front wall.” Before Giles could attempt to convince her to stay, Anya teleported, disappearing without a sound.
 

***

The windowless hall was long and narrow with a dark hardwood floor covered by luxurious hand woven rugs and oil painting lined walls. The hall ended with a large stone fireplace. A gold chandelier hung over an oval oak table surrounded by six leather chairs. Four men and two women sat in the six chairs. All were dressed elegantly, in cashmere or linen suits and silk shirts. Each carried a heavy leather briefcase.

One of the men lifted his briefcase and removed a manila envelope. Setting the briefcase on the floor, he opened the envelope. A thick file slid onto the table.

“I trust all of us are ready to proceed,” he said as he flipped through the contents of the file. He pulled five pictures and placed them in the center of the table. The first was of Faith, the second Spike, and the third of Buffy and Dawn. The fourth and fifth pictures were of Xander, Willow, Anya, and Giles. The man continued, “We must act quickly if we are to gain control of the Hellmouth. The Slayer and the rest need to be eliminated.” Turning to the woman on his left, he asked, “Is everything in order?”

Pointing to the picture of Faith, she said, “We are still waiting for the second Slayer to arrive in Sunnydale. She has taken… a detour. She is in Los Angeles at the Hyperion Hotel owned by Angelus.”

A second man cleared his throat. “Isn’t that where William the Bloody is staying?”

The first man nodded. “Yes. It is unfortunate that these two have now met. However, it should not alter our plans much. A… friendship or an alliance between the two may even be an asset to us.”

“But what if the vampire kills her?”

The first man raised an eyebrow. “I see you have not studied your file closely. William the Bloody is chipped. He cannot harm any human, save for the Slayer Buffy Summers.” He rubbed a hand over his chin. “And if Faith should eliminate Spike… it would be to our advantage. Then we would not have to contend with the… relationship of sorts he has with the Slayer.” The man returned the five pictures to the file and replaced the manila envelope in his briefcase. A small smile appeared on his face. “You know your assignments. We will meet again in a week. Within a month the Hellmouth will be ours.”
 

***

Title: Enemy Incognito

Author: Wynn

Email: effulgent_sun@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters of BtVS. Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, WB, etc. own pretty much everything. So sad for me. Quotes used from Fool for Love, School Hard, and Dead Things. Quotes taken from Psyche’s Transcripts.

AN: Reviews are wonderful, and I am thankful for each and every one that I receive. So if you like, review. If you don’t like, review.

Chapter Seven: Night Visions

By: Wynn

Maps, files, pictures, scraps of paper, plates of food, cups of coffee, and mugs of blood lay scattered on the lobby desk of the Hyperion. Five chairs surrounding the desk supported the five humans and nonhumans poring over the mounds of gathered information: Angel, Fred, and Gunn, the remaining members of Angel Investigations, as well as Spike and Faith, former enemies taken in by Angel because of his belief in their redemption. The band of unlikely allies had spent the entire day analyzing the leads, notes, and hunches collected over the past few weeks in the search for Connor. Nothing had panned out. All leads led to dead ends or to information they had already gathered. Desperation was increasing as time passed.

Gunn dropped a stack of papers on the desk and rubbed his eyes. “Maybe we should talk to Lilah again. Sources at the club said she was talking to Wes. He might’ve told her something about Connor, or she’s figured something out on her own.” From under his hands, he peered at Angel. “She’s hiding something. Just don’t know if that something is Connor.”

“If Lilah does know something,” Faith said as she stood, “she’s not going to blab it to you. Especially if you not knowing suits whatever scheme she has going.” She raised her arms above her head and stretched.

Angel glanced at Faith, then at Gunn. “Still, it could be good to put some pressure on her. Let her know we’re not kidding around.” He paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Gunn, could you and Fred talk to her again? If she did have anything to do with Connor and Holtz, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to let her know I’m ocean free.”

Gunn nodded. He went to the weapons cabinet and pulled out an ax. Brandishing the steel weapon, he looked at the others and said, “Just in case.”

Fred grabbed her bag and followed Gunn out of the hotel. “Just in case what?” She decides to hit you with her four inch heel?”

Silence descended on the hotel. Angel sat in his chair with his head down in his hands; he shook his head slowly and stood. Pacing the room, he said, “We aren’t getting any closer to finding him. He might not even be in this dimension anymore.”

Faith plopped back into her chair and put her feet up on the desk. She locked her arms behind her head and said, “You’ll find him. Even if you have to kick ass across dimensions.”

Angel slouched into the plush sofa. He stared at the ceiling, lost in thoughts of Cordelia and Connor and even Wes. His ex-friend and partner, his estranged son, and his… love. Not love. His potential love who had ascended to somewhere in the middle of the LA freeway. There hadn’t been any time for love before the bottom dropped and all hell broke loose. All three were gone, and he didn’t know how to get them back.

He glanced at Spike and Faith, who sat across from each other bickering over the last spicy buffalo wing. His two former enemies had formed a truce of sorts after their stake-filled first meeting: Faith wouldn’t kill Spike, and Spike wouldn’t kill Faith. After the truce, they had focused all their energies into helping Angel search for Connor while building the courage to return to Sunnydale and right their respective wrongs. He wondered how much longer the pair would stay in L.A. He didn’t think his sanity could handle much more.

The elder vampire sighed as the bickering escalated into the makings of a full fledged brawl. Running a hand over his eyes, he stood and said, “Why don’t you two…” He froze at the sudden appearance of a woman near the front door. She wore a pair of pinstripe black pants and a silk burgundy top; her blonde hair framed her face in wild ringlets. She spotted Angel and waved.

“Hi, Angel.”

“Anya?”

Nodding, she walked over to Spike and Faith and snatched the buffalo wing from between their hands. Dropping it into the nearby garbage can, she smiled brightly and sat in one of the chairs surrounding the lobby desk. She waved to Faith and Spike as she said, “Hello.”

Spike glanced from his hand, to the garbage can, and then to Anya. Eyes narrowing, he growled, “What in the bloody hell possessed you to do that? That was a perfectly good buffalo wing.”

The blonde vengeance demon shook her head and replied, “No, it wasn’t. It was all smooshed and gooey from you and Faith fighting over it. Would you have wanted to have eaten a smooshed and gooey piece of dead animal flesh?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s in the trash can if you’re hungry.”

Spike looked at Anya aghast. “I’m not going to eat it after it’s been in the trash.”

“But you would have eaten it after it had been crushed?”

“Yes.”

Faith and Angel stood off to the side and watched the two blondes. After a few seconds, Faith stalked over to the desk and waved her hand between the pair. “Hey! The wing is dead. Get over it.”

Anya inspected the brunette Slayer. Not noticing any weapons in Faith’s hands, she said, “When did you break out of prison?”

Faith glanced at Spike and Angel before answering slowly, “I was released. A few weeks ago. Why? Are you going to run off and tell B that I’m out?”

Anya arched an eyebrow. “B?”

“Buffy.”

Anya laughed. “No. And even if I did, she wouldn’t believe me. Are you going to return to Sunnydale?”

Sitting across from Anya, Faith said, “Eventually. Why? Is there some big nasty terrorizing the Hellmouth? ”

“Not anymore.”

Spike stood and peeked into the garbage can. “Did someone finally put an end to the Loser brigade then?”

Anya was quiet as she watched Spike poke around in the garbage can. After a minute of silence, he looked at her. Off the solemn expression on her face, he dropped the metal can and faced her. “What happened?”

Tears pooled in her golden brown eyes. She tugged on the edge of her shirt and told the trio about the chaotic seventy-two hours in Sunnydale in which Tara died, Giles returned, and Willow killed Warren, then hunted the other two Nerds, fought Buffy and Giles, terrorized Dawn, destroyed the Magic Box, and tried to end the world. She finished with a summary of Willow’s tension filled return.

Silence rang through the hotel. Spike stared at Anya, attempting to process her news from the Hellmouth. Whistler had told him big things were happening in Sunnydale and that he might be needed. But he had thought that the “big thing” was the downfall of the Nerds, not the fight to save the world from a trusted ally and friend.

Sitting in his chair, Spike said to Anya, “Is… uh…everyone Ok- um, Dawn, is she Ok?”

“Everyone is physically fine. Well, Giles got hurt but he’s healed. And… uh, Dawn is fine, too.”

Spike nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. The four sat silent in the hotel.

Anya cleared her throat. She faced Spike and said, “I wanted to get out of Sunnydale, after everything, Willow coming back and Xander, and you had disappeared after… well, after what happened. And I was worried about you, so I decided to find you. And I found you. I also wanted to avoid Xander, too, but that was just an added bonus to leaving Sunnydale.”

Faith leaned forward. A sly smile appeared on her face. “Sounds like a story there. A story that requires a few drinks first.” She jumped off the chair and headed for the kitchen. Glancing over her shoulder, she said to Anya, “You could have had some tequila, but Angel drank it all. Do you want scotch or whiskey?”

Glancing at Spike, Anya blushed slightly and followed Faith into the kitchen. “Scotch, please.”
 

***

“So, then he leaves me standing in the church in my wedding dress and takes off for… for somewhere. He left and I had to tell everyone the wedding was off.” Anya stopped and lifted her glass of scotch. She gulped the last remaining drops and slammed the glass back on the table. The slightly inebriated vengeance demon and rogue Slayer were on the couch in the Hyperion’s sitting room while the two vampires with souls sat in the hotel’s office flipping through case files. Facing Faith, Anya continued, “That’s when I became a demon again. D’Hoffryn took me to Arashmaharr and offered to elevate me. Again.”

Faith shook her head. “Men are evil. Simple as that.”

“Men *are* evil. I should have known this. I was a vengeance demon for scorned women for eleven hundred years. I witnessed men break women’s hearts in every possible way and crush all of our hopes and dreams… and I still let it happen to me.” Anya stood, reached for her empty glass, and moved towards the kitchen. She slowed to a stop. In a quiet murmur tinged with regret and sorrow, she said, “I still loved him.”

She entered the kitchen and set her glass down on the counter as she stared out the small window above the sink. Her reflection shone on the dusty pane of glass, a pale glimmer among the darkness of the night. A soft sigh escaped her lips. “I still love him.” Anya shifted slightly and picked up her glass; out of the corner of her eye, she saw a faint blur pass behind her in the smudged window. Twisting around she saw Spike crouched in front of the refrigerator, scrounging for another beer. Her gaze flickered from Spike back to the window. She jumped slightly when the vampire slammed the refrigerator door.

“How’s the female bonding? Filled with plenty of man hating, I suppose.”

“What? Oh, yes, hating of the men. We have the requisite amount of man hating. Thank you for asking.”

Spike nodded. He bounced lightly on the balls of his feet and twirled the beer bottle in his hands. “Good, good. So… uh… I wanted to… um… say that I was… bloody hell… that I was sorry about what happened. Between us. You deserve better than a drunken one night stand.”

“Thank you.”

“So, how are you doing?”

“Better, I guess. What about you?”

Spike smirked. “Oh, I’m terrific. Couldn’t be better. Big Bad’s back in full force.”

Anya raised an eyebrow and examined her companion. Dark blonde roots peeked out from behind gleaming curls of platinum. The brash red silk of old had been replaced with a rumpled grey t-shirt. The Big Bad hadn’t returned; the Big Bad had disappeared. Spike could no more return to his former life as the Slayer of Slayers then she could return to being Anyaka, the patron saint of scorned women. They were more than demons, but less than human, caught in the limbo of not-quite-evil and not-quite-good.

The door to the kitchen crashed open startling both Spike and Anya. A sheepish grin crossed Angel’s face as he entered the kitchen. “Sorry.” He moved to the cupboard and rummaged through the contents. “Did you find the potato chips yet?”

Spike backed towards the door. “Not yet. You find them. I’ll be in the office.” He tilted his head towards Anya, a faint smile on his face, and left the kitchen.

Anya turned to Angel as the kitchen door slid shut. “Do you know what happened to him after he left Sunnydale?”

Angel paused, hand midway to mouth with a sour cream and onion potato chip grasped firmly in fingers. He placed the chip and the chip bag on the counter, face impassive. “Why do you ask?”

Her gaze flickered to the window, then back to Angel. A knowing grin spread across her face. “No reason,” she said as she headed for the exit, the door swishing softly behind her. “No reason at all.”
 

***

It was night. The sounds of an elegant party drifted from the elaborate two story house. Pushing open the intricately carved oak door, Buffy entered a large hall, populated with men in silk suits and ladies in satin gowns. A gold chandelier illuminated the marble tiled entryway, and a long curved staircase ascended to the second floor. A dark haired woman glided down the stairs, surveying the guests with a haughty air.

A commotion to her right pulled Buffy’s attention away from the elite woman. She saw a man snatch a set of papers from a young gentleman and proceed to read aloud to the gathering crowd.

 

“‘My heart expands

Tis grown a bulge in’t,

Inspired by your beauty effulgent.’”

The man sneered as he gazed contemptuously at the papers in his hand. “Effulgent?”

The crowd laughed at the attempt at poetry. Ignoring the partygoers, Buffy focused on the young man slinking off into a corner to approach the brunette from the stairs. He had curly, light brown hair and wore a tan suit and silver glasses. Vivid blue eyes, a full mouth, and sharp cheekbones caused Buffy’s eyes to widen in recognition. It was Spike- William. The night he died.

“I wouldn’t watch anymore if I were you. It gets quite brutal.”

Buffy spun and came face to face with Spike. He had the same sandy hair and silver glasses as William, but he wore the black t-shirt, jeans, and boots of Spike.

“Spike? What are you doing here?”

He smirked at her confusion. “Like I said, I wouldn’t watch. It gets quite brutal.” He turned and climbed the stairs, gradually fading until he vanished completely.

Turning to watch William and the brunette, Buffy gasped. The warm, rich interior of the Victorian house had been replaced with a cold, dirty alley. Her mouth hardened as she realized her location. It was the alley behind the Sunnydale Police Station. It was the night of Katrina’s murder.

“You’re dead inside! You can’t feel anything real! I could never… be your girl!”

She watched herself pound on a prone Spike, punching him again and again until the dull thuds of flesh striking flesh reverberated in her ears, a hollow echo that made Buffy cringe and look away.

Glancing back down the alley, Buffy found herself in a dark cave. Spike kneeled in front of her, battered, bloodied, and exhausted. A black entity with fierce green eyes floated out of the shadows, gliding between the two blondes as he said, “We have fulfilled your request.” The dark form melted once more into the inky shadows of the cave.

“Confused? I was. Didn’t know what to expect.” Spike stepped next to Buffy, watching as his counterpart collapsed into unconsciousness. The dim light of the cave glinted off his silver glasses. He smirked at her again. “It hurt a hell of a lot more than I thought it would.”

Buffy angled her head and locked eyes with Spike. “What hurt more?”

“This.”

She followed his outstretched hand and saw Spike being tackled by a black haired vixen in leather pants. Faith. Buffy charged forward to push the brunette Slayer off Spike, but as she ran the room blurred and faded away leaving Buffy alone on an empty, dead-end street. On the left side of the road, a high wall enclosed the Sunnydale Rest Haven cemetery; a dense forest grew on the right side. An old, crumbling house sat at the end of the street. Spike stood on the house’s front porch; glancing behind him, he turned the knob, pushed the door, and slipped inside the house.

Sprinting down the street, Buffy slammed into the door, which disappeared and sent her tumbling onto the ground. Standing, she took in her surroundings. She was in the Bronze. The interior of the club was dark save for a spotlight that illuminated the second story balcony.

She saw herself staring into space, eyes unfocused and empty. A shock of black crossed the spotlight behind the other Buffy; midnight tipped fingers rested lightly on the balcony, trapping the blonde Slayer.

“What would they think of you? If they found out all the things you’ve done. If they knew who you really were…”

The door to the Bronze slammed shut. Tearing her gaze from the balcony, Buffy ran to the entrance and burst from the club into the alley. She saw her younger self spin around, eyes squinted in confusion, searching for the now all-to-familiar voice in the shadows.

“What happens on Saturday?”

Buffy looked into the murky blackness expecting to find pre-chip Spike slink into the light. Instead, this new Spike, the strange mix of human William and vampire Spike, emerged from the darkness and walked towards her.

“What happens on Saturday?” The words came out before she realized she had opened her mouth to speak.

Spike stopped. He tilted his head, a lock of sandy brown hair falling across his forehead, and replied, “I love you.” Pushing a honey colored curl behind her ear, his fingertips traced the contours of her face. They glided over her cheekbones, the tip of her nose, the curve of her eyebrows. He touched the corner of her mouth and the plush center of her bottom lip. A wistful smile appeared on his face.

She reached up and brushed her fingertips across his lips. She closed her eyes, intensifying the sensation of his cool, calloused fingertips on her lips and icy softness of his lips beneath her fingers. She smiled softly.

“Within a month the Hellmouth will be ours.”
 

***

Buffy’s eyes flew open at the sound of the cold, arrogant voice invading her mind. Sitting up in her bed, she ran a hand through her tangled hair and gasped for breath. It was the third night she had awoken to dreams of Spike. The other dreams were just glimpses of their tortured, tangled relationship, a montage of images compiled by her subconscious. This dream was different. She had had a Slayer dream. Visions of the past, present, and future melded together in an incoherent mass of vagueness.

Sliding off the bed, Buffy tiptoed towards her bedroom window and pulled back the drapes. Ivory moonlight covered the outside world, creating pools of blackness that softened the night’s harsh edges and hid its dangers.

‘The Hellmouth will be ours.’

Shivering, Buffy let the drapes fall back into place. She returned to her bed and wrapped her arms around her knees.

‘I wouldn’t watch. It gets quite brutal.’

Buffy glanced at her closet door. She closed her eyes for a moment and laid her head on her knees.

‘I love you.’

She stood and walked to her closet door. Opening it, she pushed her shirts, skirts, jackets, and pants to the side. She dug her way to the very back of the closet, her fingertips coming in contact with soft black leather. Tugging on the hanger, she grasped the leather duster she had found on the banister of the stairs and wrapped it around her body. She breathed in the scent of tobacco and blood and liquor, combined with just a hint of danger and mystery and undiluted emotion. It was everything that was Spike.

Curling deeper within the leather duster, Buffy climbed back on her bed, closed her eyes, and fell back asleep.
 

***

Title: Enemy Incognito

Author: Wynn

Email: effulgent_sun@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: The characters of BtVS do not belong to me. In my ideal world, they are all mine. But, sadly, in reality they are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Twentieth Century Fox, UPN, etc. I’m just borrowing them to tell my story.

AN: Relatively shorter chapter, but filled with lots of good stuff. Thanks to SpikeLover7, my fellow CW and SACer, who is a wonderful beta. And thanks to each and every person who had read, and especially, reviewed my story. Reviews mean a lot, and I am thankful for each and every one.

Chapter Eight: Coffee, Cookies, and Conversation

By: Wynn

The Espresso Pump was crowded with the citizens of Sunnydale enjoying the sunny morning. Xander sat at a corner table in the coffee shop’s veranda. He glanced at his watch and took another gulp of coffee. He had called and left a message on Anya’s answering machine a few days ago to suggest a meeting time for coffee, but she hadn’t returned his call, and she hadn’t been to the Magic Box since Willow’s return. He had asked Giles if he knew of Anya’s whereabouts, but all the Watcher had said was that he hadn’t seen her. So now Xander sat amid the swarm of coffee, mocha, and cappuccino drinkers hoping that his ex-fiancée would appear. So that he could explain why he had acted the way he had. So that he could try make things right.

“Hi.”

Xander started at the sound of Anya’s voice. She sat down across from him, fruit smoothie grasped between her hands. A nervous grimace crossed her face. “I wasn’t sure that you would come. You, uh, haven’t been around, so I- I left a message.”

“I said I would have coffee with you, Xander. I don’t back out of promises.”

Xander clenched his jaw. “Ok, I deserved that. But how long are you going to keep throwing it back in my face?” He set his coffee on the table and looked into Anya’s eyes. “I made a mistake. I should’ve stayed and explained what I was feeling, but I didn’t and I can’t go back and undo what I did.”

Anya sighed and slumped against the back of her chair. “I know. I’m sorry. This is a very difficult and confusing situation. I don’t want to be nice to you, but you keep being nice to me and then I feel guilty for being mean.”

A crooked smile appeared on his face. “I deserve the mean stuff.” The grin faded. “You haven’t done anything to feel guilty for. Not even… not even for…”

“For sleeping with Spike?”

Xander tightened his grasp on his styrofoam coffee cup, crushing it, spilling coffee over the table. Grabbing napkins, he wiped the dark liquid off the table top and threw the soaked bundle and crumpled cup in the trash. He returned to the table and sat down, face stony. After a few minutes of silence, he sucked in a deep breath and rubbed his hands over his face. “Do you have to be so blunt about what you did with… with… him?”

Anya folded her arms across her chest. “Yes. Spike and I were drunk, and we were hurt, so we slept together. And if you and I are going to have any sort of a relationship, you need to accept what happened because I can’t change what I did.”

“So I’m supposed to just accept that he touched you and kissed you? That you kissed him back? That you were compassionate towards him?” He stared at Anya, hatred and anger glinting beneath the surface of his brown eyes. “He doesn’t deserve to touch you, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve your compassion.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re better than him.”

Anya straightened her back and tilted her chin in the air. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “I’m better than him. Why? Because he’s a soulless demon? Because he’s killed hundreds, thousands of people without feeling any remorse? Because he tried to kill you and Willow and Buffy?”

“Yes.”

She leaned across the table, golden eyes flashing with fury. “Reality check, Xander. I am a ‘soulless’ demon who has killed hundreds of thousands in the name of vengeance. I killed you and Willow and Buffy and practically everyone else in Sunnydale when I manipulated Cordelia into making a wish against you.” She sat back against the chair. Her entire body trembled. “So tell me how am I better than Spike? Is it because you love me? Does being loved by a human make you better? If that’s correct, then I really am no better than Spike.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Anya shook her head. She looked at Xander, her eyes heavy with sadness. “You love me, Xander, but you hate what I am.”

“No, I don’t. You weren’t always a demon. You could-”

“Could what? Change back to human form? Would that make everything Ok? Please, Xander, tell me how would it make everything Ok? Would I be nicer as a human? Would you love me more if I weren’t a demon?” She lowered her voice until it was barely above a whisper. “I was a human for twenty three years, Xander. I was a demon for eleven hundred. You wouldn’t be able to comprehend the things I’ve witnessed over the past millennia. The things I’ve done. I can’t ignore the demon part of me, I can’t flip it off like a light switch, and it wouldn’t just disappear if I became a human again.”

She watched Xander try to comprehend all she had said. Her eyes filled with tears as she pushed her chair back and stood. “I’m sorry this is difficult for you… I have to get to the shop now. Goodbye.” Anya turned and walked away from the table and the coffee shop onto the busy Main Street of Sunnydale.
 

***

Dawn pushed through the door to the Magic Box, holding it open for Buffy who was engrossed in the classified ads of the Sunnydale News & Observer. The scent of fresh paint drifted throughout the store; the walls were painted a soft eggshell. All of the dust and debris had been vacuumed off the floor, the windows had been cleaned, and new lights installed. The absolute destruction that had been the Magic Box was replaced with a bright, airy shop. The Summers sisters walked over to the small metal table that had been placed in the middle of the empty store. Dawn slung her canvas bag on the metal surface and perched on one of the stools circling the table; she rolled her eyes as Buffy plopped onto the floor, gnawing on the end of a red pen, hazel eyes intent upon the folded newspaper. “Found anything yet?”

Buffy shook her head and sighed. She took the pen out of her mouth and twirled it in her hand as she said, “No. So far every job hiring is either a fast food place or a funeral home. I’ll find something soon.”

Pulling out a bag of cookies, Dawn said, “I still don’t see why you don’t get paid by the Watcher’s Council. Giles does, and he’s not even the Slayer. You are. You do all the work.”

Buffy looked at her sister. “I don’t do all the work. Even if the Council of Stuffed Shirts was offering a steady paycheck, I’d still pass. I don’t want those people in charge of our financial future.” She returned to the newspaper. Flipping a page, she scanned down the columns of available jobs; her gaze stopped on a small ad at the bottom of the page. She brought the paper over to the metal table and placed it before Dawn. “This sounds decent.”

The ad was for a local martial arts dojo that was looking for a new self-defense instructor. Dawn smiled. The training sessions between her and Buffy had improved immensely since the first; the sisters had relaxed into their respective roles of teacher and student and now enjoyed their time together. Much to Dawn’s surprise, Buffy had come a long way from the drill instructor of the first lesson, becoming an excellent teacher. This job would be perfect for her. “Sounds good. How much does it pay?”

Buffy rolled her eyes at Dawn as she grabbed a cookie and sat on one of the stools. Examining the ad, she said, “It certainly pays more than the Doublemeat Dungeon did. And no weird grease smell anymore. A definite improvement. I’ll stop by tomorrow, fill out an application.”

The door to the training room opened and Giles entered the shop. He pulled the door closed and smiled at Buffy and Dawn as he crossed the length of the bare store. Noticing the red ink stained newspaper, he said to Buffy, “Have you found anything yet?”

“You mean anything that doesn’t involve fried meat or formaldehyde? Possibly.” Buffy looked from Giles to Dawn. “I need to talk to Giles. Alone. Will you be alright here?”

Dawn sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mother Hen. I will be fine.”

“Sorry, sorry. Old habits die hard, especially when they concern your little sister.” Sliding off the stool, Buffy led Giles towards the training room. She reached for the handle, but Giles stepped between her and the training room door. She stepped back a little and looked at her Watcher quizzically.

“Willow is back there,” Giles explained. He moved away from the door to the corner of the shop. “We were working on a meditation exercise when you and Dawn came in.”

“Oh.” Buffy glanced at the closed door that enclosed her friend in solitude. “How- how is she? We- I haven’t seen her much since she came back.”

Giles removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s, ah, improving. She’s recovered some emotional stability. The meditation exercises have been helping. She’s almost ready to be taken to the coven.”

“Have you spoken to her about it?”

“A little. She seems to realize that there is to be some sort of repercussions for her abuses of magic, although I don’t know if she understands that her abilities are to be binded. I believe she thinks that the coven is going to teach her how to better handle her abilities.”

Buffy glanced at the door. “Do you want me to be with you when you tell her what’s really going to happen?”

Giles shook his head as he replaced his glasses. “No. Thank you though. I’ll be fine. Is there something specific you needed to speak to me about?”

“Yeah. I think someone is looking to take control of the Hellmouth. I don’t know who, or what, wants to be the new crown Prince of Darkness, but I’m pretty sure that there’s a new evil brewing.”

Giles’ brows drew together as he pondered Buffy’s admission. “How-”

“I had a Slayer dream. A voice, a very not-so-nice voice, said ‘Within a month, the Hellmouth will be ours.’”

Giles nodded. “Everyone should best be on their guard. Especially you. Do you need any assistance on patrolling? An extra set of eyes and ears?”

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t be because of that. There’s this second thing I need to talk to you about.” Buffy paused and drew in a breath, mentally preparing herself to tell Giles her intuition. If she were right, another explosive variable was about to be thrown into the shaky, delicate environment that was the Scooby Gang. Exhaling softly, she said, “I think Faith may be out of prison.”

“What?”

“Well, she might not be out yet. She might be getting out soon. She had a cameo in the same Slayer dream as the wannabe rulers of the Hellmouth.”

Giles rubbed a hand over his brow. “I haven’t heard anything about her release from the Watcher’s Council. Although they wouldn’t know anything anyway.”

“She could have pulled the Great Escape. Had enough of rehabilitation, decided to use her Slayer strength to break out of prison.”

“Possibly. I’ll call-”

“Buffy!” A crash of metal hitting wood resounded through the store. Dawn’s scream sent Buffy and Giles running from the corner to the front of the shop where they found one stool on its side and crumbled cookies spread across the floor. Dawn stood behind the table; her eyes wide with shock and panic were glued to the entrance of the Magic Box.

Faith stepped from the brilliant light of day into the creamy, cool interior of the shop. She was dressed in her usual black on black, eyes lined heavily in kohl and midnight eye shadow. A few pieces of paper were in her left hand; a small duffel bag was clutched in her right.

“B.”
 

***

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