Drusilla watched from the safety of her hotel suite as the last blush of daylight faded into dusk. Her Daddy would be here soon. She flittered around the room, making sure everything was in place.
She ran her hands over the carved wood case that contained the bauble and opened it, to be certain that it was safe. She admired the rainbow of light that she could still see playing inside the small space. Drusilla still didn't know how this little, delicate thing was going to help bring her William back to her. The ether was a wicked thing. It was hard to grasp things that couldn't be grasped. But, Holland told her that this would help her be a mother again. He had been such help before that Drusilla saw no reason to disbelieve him, now. Just how this would work she wasn't sure. But, she knew that if she waited the unknown things would come to her.
***********************
Angel strode down the carpeted corridors of the hotel with purpose. How dare Holland imply that he was not his own man. How dare that little eel slither in here and tell him that he was a puppet. Okay, so there was that time that he actually was a puppet, but that was beside the point. No one controlled him. He was his own man. He was a champion, and before this was over, Holland would know it.
He arrived at the mahogany door, and knocked. A familiar face, adorned with an eye patch, answered the door.
"Come in, Angel," he said as he stood back from the door.
Angel came into the room and came face to face with a sea of faces. All of whom counted themselves as Spike's friends. Although, some of them did so more reluctantly than others, there was no denying that they were here because, in one way or another Spike helped them at one time. Now, they were just returning the favor.
He acknowledged them all with a curt nod, "Ready to do this?"
"Yes," Riley said, as he checked, and shouldered his tranquilizer gun. He led the parade of rag-tag people on the march down the hall to Drusilla's room.
*******************************
"I've got a confession to make," Buffy said, her eyes downcast and her hand reaching into the pocket of her dungarees.
"What's that?" Spike asked, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"I've had a kind of security blanket. I've used it for about a year now. Now that you know that I've needed something I haven't needed since I was a child," she looked up at him, "Still respect me?"
"I always did like Mr. Gordo," he said, "It takes a strong woman to admit she needs help. And, you are the strongest woman I know. What is this 'security blanket' of yours, Pet?"
Buffy was embarrassed. As she slipped her fingers around the object in her pocket, she wasn't sure how he would react to seeing it again. Let alone the fact that she had kept it with her after he was gone. She remembered shoving it into a box with Willow's candles, only to fish it out later. That day, on the bus, she had taken it out of the duffel of Spike's things. The duffel stayed, silently waiting for its owner's return. But, he never did. Seeing the little cloth bag, so forlorn without its owner, made her heart ache. So she decided to adopt some of his orphan belongings.
"This is my pride and joy," she said fishing the chrome plated lighter out of her pocket, "Or at least it was. Now that you're here, it's yours again." She placed the lighter gently in his hand.
Spike felt the weight of the lighter in his hands. It had been a long time since he held it in his hands, but his fingers closed around it as if it had never left. As if it was a part of him.
Spike's eyes tilted in contemplation of the lighter, and Buffy, "Is this..." he sighed, disbelievingly.
"Sure is," she nodded.
"Oh," he choked, "good to know my trinkets were safe."
**********************
Drusilla waited for her gentleman caller. He was to arrive at dusk, and she had just watched the last rays of daylight be chased away by the pretty shadows. Soon the stars would be singing to her, and she would be able to help her boy be strong again. Mr. Manners had promised.
The firm, strong rapping on the door brought Drusilla out of her reverie. With a flourish and a rustle of her skirts, she opened the door. There she saw her Daddy, looking stern, and cross.
"Daddy," she whimpered, "that sour face spoils the game before it's even started."
"Drusilla," Angel scowled, "I am in no mood," he grabbed her by the arm and hissed, "Let's get this done."
It was then that Drusilla noticed her armed escort. "My," she squealed, "all this pomp and circumstance for such a little girl?"
"It was the only way to make sure that Spike would get what he needs from you," Angel said.
"Tisk, tisk, Daddy. Do you really think I'd put William in danger?" she pouted.
Angel nodded to his companions, "They're here to make sure you don't."
*******************************
"Well," Buffy smiled, "don't you look great! Almost as good as new."
"Almost," Spike smirked, "I have to admit, I never really gave the blue hues a chance. After one hundred years of black, it's just easier to go with what you know."
Buffy was finally beginning to relax a little. Things were going to get better. She was finally starting to believe. "A little more of that good old mother's milk, and you will be back on the prowl in no time."
"Let's hope so, Pet. This idleness is starting to make me stir crazy."
There was a very distinctive knock at the door. Buffy opened it to reveal Drusilla, flanked, on either side by the new and improved Scoobies.
"Well," Buffy said, over her shoulder, to Spike, "I hope your ready, because I think it's show time."
*********************************
The sun had risen hours ago. Drusilla was taken weakened and paler than normal, from the stress of the feeding, by Angel and the majority of the others, back to her hotel room.
The blood had helped. Now Spike looked near to perfection. There was even some dark peach fuzz on his head that Buffy supposed would pass for hair. Who knew that Spike had honey brown hair under all that peroxide?
There were still some scars that hadn't healed. Buffy supposed that they were permanent. A kind of reminder of the journey he'd been through, as if she and he needed any reminders.
The others had retreated back to 'Scooby Central,' so now all that was left to do was wait for Spike to wake up.
As if on cue, Spike opened his eyes, that looked extremely rested, and looked at her. The mischief in his eyes was something she had missed.
"Hey," Buffy said, stoking his cheek.
"Hey, yourself," Spike purred.
"How are you feeling?"
"Surprisingly well. Want to dance, Pet?"
****************************
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Due to a combination of my own stupidity, and an out-dated computer, some of the reviews for earlier chapters were unintentionally deleted from this fic. The problem with my computer has since been fixed. And, I have beat my head against a wall *rubs head gingerly* for my stupidity. This kind of thing *will not* happen again. I apologize to all my readers, and hope you will forgive me and continue to read and review. I apologize again.