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My undying gratitude to betas nightshift and cloviss

Since Dawn had the good sense to travel in her most comfortable clothes and slept most of the time on the plane, she was ready to catch up with family and friends the minute she arrived. She should have realized that where Buffy was concerned, nothing was ever simple. Now it looked like she had landed right in the middle of a crisis. Buffy looked awful. Her eyes were red and puffy, and when she took off the terry robe, Dawn was able to see that half of her was missing. Buffy being tiny anyway, even if she got fat….as if….she’d barely break 100 lbs. She was scary skinny. Okay, so she wasn’t anorexic scary, but scary just the same. If this is what happens as you mature … no thanks.

“Buffy, are you sick? You look terrible.” She finally said, then thought she probably should have found a more tactful way to say it. Buffy turned to face her; there were heavy wet tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn’t need to say anything. Dawn went to her, wrapped her own long skinny arms around her, and winced as she said, “Blunt, huh?” Dawn hugged her tight and said, “Talk to me, Buffy.”

Buffy opened her mouth to speak and no sound came out, only deep, heart breaking sobs.

“OK. You can’t talk. I get it. How about I ask you questions and you let me know if I’m hot or cold?” She smiled. It sounded so silly, but she knew that if Buffy tried to talk it would only come out all garbled and broken and set off another round of sobs.

Buffy lifted her eyes to Dawn’s. There it was! Buffy was the only person she knew who could tell whole stories with her eyes. In one glance, she conveyed 1. Thank you for understanding. 2. Don’t treat me like a child. I’m still your big sister and can beat the crap out of you. 3. I love you, and 4. This is so lame. Yet, with all that she neither agreed nor disagreed with the lame plan.

Dawn decided to forge ahead. Hey, not going to be in England that long. She began, “Let’s see. You’re crying because you’re happy to see me. No… I know that’s not it. I’m just teasing. Trying for a little levity here? All right, going with the obvious … it has something to do with Spike.”

Buffy nodded.

“You’re mad at him?” This time Buffy shook her head in the negative. “You’re worried about him … I noticed that he’s as skinny as you except his face isn’t swollen.”

Buffy’s eyes shot open and she went to the mirror. New tears filled her eyes.

“I just figured you two were shagging like bunnies and forgot to eat,” Dawn suggested and then an idea struck, “Is he sick?”

Buffy shook her head no, got up, and went to the closet to pick out something to wear and found her voice. “I don’t think he wants me anymore,” she said. She turned and faced a stunned Dawn. “I know you think I’m crazy, but hear me out.” Buffy used the back of her hand to wipe the endless tears from her eyes. Pulling a tissue from the box on the dresser, she blew hear nose and reached for more tissue and began her story. “He came back after being incinerated more than two years ago and he’s only just come to me now, and it wasn’t me he came to see at all.”

“OK, Buffy. That makes no sense. Try again, this time include all the words necessary, not just the ones in the shorthand version in your head.” Dawn wanted to help. Really, she did, but she needed some coherency here.

After blowing her nose again, Buffy continued, “He didn’t come to see me at all. He came to see Giles. Spike never expected to see me again … I think that’s the way he wanted it.” Dawn tried to say something and Buffy interrupted, “I didn’t know I was going to see him either. Giles arranged it, it was all Giles.” Dawn opened her mouth to speak and again Buffy stopped her, “No, let me finish. At first, when we saw each other … it was glorious. Everything I’ve been dreaming about.” Her voice caught, and the tears started again. “Oh God …Dawn, I love him so ... completely.” She took a deep breath, “Then there was the attack …”

“Attack?” Dawn cried. “You never said anything about an attack.”

“I know. He’s better now … I think.”

“He’s better? HE was the one attacked? Spike?” she said incredulously, “The Big Bad? Boy am I gonna razz him about that!”

“No! no …” Buffy said, “No razzing. This was serious. He saved my life and then this gnarly demon thing got the better of him … it was bad, Dawn. I could tell you he could have died, but dying might have been better if things hadn’t worked out.”

“Whoa there, now. Just back up some, little lady … you’re scarin’ me. You think he’s better? He saved your life? It would have been better if he died? You better give me the whole story and make it quick … my skin is crawly now.”

Buffy explained what happened while she got dressed and did her hair and make-up. When she told Dawn about where Spike was injured Dawn let out a scream. Xander, Giles and Spike came running and banged on the door. Dawn sent them away with the assurance that everything was A-OK. Buffy finished, telling Dawn that Spike hadn’t touched her since the attack, not at all, not even in friendship. She said, “When I came out of the shower and saw Spike with his arms around you, nuzzling your neck, it was just too much. Oh Dawn, I’m so lonely for those arms. I just want to die. If I can’t be with Spike, I don’t want to go on.”

For one brief moment, the old Dawn wanted to say something mean … about Spike caring more for her because at least she was never cruel to him. OK, she was bitchy at the end… but she decided to hold her tongue. Instead, she found words of comfort that sounded empty and patronizing. What else could she do? Frankly, sad as it may be, maybe Buffy got it right and Spike did want to move on.

Buffy thanked her for listening while she checked herself out in the mirror. Capri length jeans with black slouch boots with a nice feminine heel and a red v-neck cashmere sweater. The right red was a good color for her and this one was right. She wore a single black pearl on a silver chain and black pearl earrings to match. She dried her hair so that it was smooth and sleek and then drew it all up carefully so it looked carefree. Before opening the door, she glanced back at Dawn, again speaking without words. She said, "I’m going through the motions, Dawn. I have nothing left. Without Spike, I’m nothing.” Then she put on a brave face and stepped out to meet her guests. “Everybody find drinks and snacks? I apologize for taking so long.” She laughed, “I’m getting older you know and it takes a little more magic to make me presentable.”

~~~

Dawn spied Giles sitting by the hearth and ran across the room to him. Giles stood to greet her, “Dawn, look at you. Can it be you’ve actually gotten taller? You’re lovely. Give us a hug, then.” He reached out his arms and embraced the young woman he thought of as another daughter. For a solitary old bachelor he certainly had his share of daughters. Having gone through teen years with both of them, he believed he had more than earned the right to think of them that way.

Leah Graham sat in the corner of the overstuffed couch wearing tailored heather wool slacks and a pale pink merino wool sweater. Tonight, with her hair drawn up and wisps of nearly white blond hair framing her face and perfect complexion she was a picture of serenity. Giles made the introduction, “Dawn, I’d like you to meet Leah Graham, our MD in residence … and a friend.” Then he added sotto voce, “She was formerly in the employ of the Council of Watchers, so you needn’t worry about what you say.”

Dawn smiled and extended her hand. They both tried to speak at the same time and then laughed. Dawn deferred to the doctor, who then spoke first, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Dawn. How was your flight?” Dr. Graham knew all about Dawn too and was dying to learn more about this person who wasn’t a young woman at all. Nevertheless, she had the good sense to wait for the right time, if the right time ever came.

Dawn returned her smile and said simply, “It’s nice to meet you too. I had a great flight, actually. I boarded, listened to the lecture about masks and stuff, put on my earphones, and went to sleep. Next stop, Heathrow.” She felt like it would be rude to end the conversation like that, so she made some more small talk. “So, you joined Giles here to help with the school?”

“Oh no, I left the Council and went into private practice. The fact that Giles decided to open the school here was just a happy accident.” Giles brought over a glass of white wine for Dawn and the three sat down. Giles and Leah sat on the sofa. Dawn sat on the ottoman as they continued their chat.

~~~

Granger was just finishing his tea when the knock came at the door. “I’ll get it Delia,” he called as he rose to answer the door. He was surprised and delighted when he saw Detective Inspector Arthur and his henchman through the crack in the curtains. He thought, it’s about time they’ve gotten around to talking to me. I’ve been feeling a little left out. No class, these London cops. Not like the old days.

“Who’s calling this early?” his wife asked.

“Business, Dee, I’ll take care of it,” he said as he opened the door. “Gentlemen, won’t you come in?”

“Should I put on an extra pot of tea?” came the call from upstairs in the small country house.

Granger raised his eyes to the men as they walked in which was meant to extend the offer his wife had just made. Carruthers said, “I could do with a cuppa, that’s most generous.”

“Yeah, Dee, there’s four of us, countin’ you. Maybe you could find some cake or a biscuit or two, too,” he said; indicating the chairs for the visitors.

“Now then, how can I help the Yard?” Granger asked.

DI Arthur started, “Constable Granger, you know that we’ve been very thorough in our investigation. Now having collected all the information that we could on our own, we have come to you to ask you to fill in the blanks.”

Granger laughed and said, “I expect you could have saved yourself a lot of time, fuss and money if you came to me first. All your fancy, high and mighty techniques,” he spat the word, “haven’t gotten ya much have they?”

Carruthers took exception to Granger’s comments and tone but he knew that Arthur was the one doing this interview and if he interfered, he’d be in the stew later. He suspected Arthur was just as offended but he knew this puffed-up excuse for a constable would stop cooperating if he didn’t believe he had the upper hand.

“There is some truth to what you say Mr. Granger, but we have made some discoveries and there are some people we’re interested in. That’s why we’re here. We hoped you might give us some insight.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Granger said. “Dee? How’s that tea coming?”

“Hold your water, old man. It’s coming,” the harried housewife replied.

Carruthers and Arthur smiled and lowered their eyes. Granger’s expression changed in embarrassment. “So, did you have any specific questions, sir?” Granger began, his attitude considerably subdued.

Carruthers flipped open his notebook as Arthur began, “Yes, there are a couple of questions, but then I’d like to hear about your own impressions about things. With your experience, your trained eye … well, you might notice things that in and of themselves are insignificant but when put together with other observations might tell us something important. Let’s start with specifics though, is that all right with you?”

Carruthers lowered his eyes and froze his jaw to hide the smile that came unbidden. The Inspector was at it again…playing people. He wished he could do it. He could try, but he knew he’d never be as good. Still, it was always a good thing to study at the feet of the master.

Granger nodded, eager to please, as his wife carried in a tray done up nicely with tea and biscuits. “Sorry gents,” Delia said as she set the tray down. “No cakes on short notice.”

The interview went on as she poured and made sure everyone was satisfied. Arthur caught her eye, gave her his most winning smile and thanked her. She blushed, made a sort of a bow, and backed out of the room wiping her hands on her apron.

To Granger he said, “Tell me about your constabulary. How is it run? What kind of schedules do you keep? You know, of course, that we’ve already seen your books and files, but they are just dry documents. Your input will make them alive for us,” he finished as he picked up his tea and took a sip.

“Well sir, I reckon I should start at the beginning. Word went out in the community that the Harcourt Estate was going to be opened up again and turned into some kind of private school. Every other day there were speculative articles in the paper regarding opportunities for employment. That all started around two years ago and it was probably six months or so before any actual hiring took place. A couple of blokes came up from London and Gloucester and even Manchester to interview. I didn’t think I stood a chance but Mr. Giles puts a lot of stock in loyalty and community connections so after three interviews, I got the job. My education and experience were important I’m sure, but if you want the God’s honest truth, I think the trump card I held was that I was local. You know, invested in the community. I think the other guys were probably a little better qualified than me, but Mr. Giles just seemed to like the idea that I was from the area. He wanted those neighborhood affiliations. Y’know?”

Arthur commented on what was said, giving Granger a moment to take a biscuit and sip his tea. “That’s interesting and it’s exactly the kind of information I’m looking for. Did Mr. Giles hire all your officers or once you took the position was the hiring for your department left to you?”

“Actually, I was instructed to take as much time as I needed to examine the grounds, the buildings and come up with a comprehensive plan for providing a safe environment for staff and students. I was to make it as fail-safe as I could. Mr. Giles and I would study it, see if it was adequate or needed improvement and then we could come up with realistic numbers of staff we would need to have the school patrolled around the clock.” Granger finished.

DI Arthur took a deep sigh, stood and walked to the window, “What’s your impression of the Headmaster?”

It was apparent that Granger was mulling over options in his mind. That was OK with Arthur. The answers often lay in the thoughts people had about one another. The thoughts they usually kept to themselves. He continued to sip his tea; he wanted to give the constable all the time in the world. The solution to the whole case may well rest in what he finally had to say.

After what seemed like a very long silence, Granger finally spoke up, “I liked him…a bit stuffy for my taste, but all in all a decent sort. Went on at great length that the safety of the staff and students was his number one priority. It’s hard to fault that and for someone who just accepted the position to set up that protection that was like handing me a blank check. I drew up plans, and duty rosters and a set of regulations based on Scotland Yard’s and spoke to the local force for ideas about scaling down. He and I met once a week and went over what I done. He never changed more than a thing or two and made me feel like I was doing a good job.”

“All right, Granger. Was there anything unusual about him?” The inspector knew there was something about this Giles that rankled him but he couldn’t put a finger on it himself. He was counting on someone who knew him or was at least acquainted with him for a while to give him the insight he needed … wanted more like. This case went on a little longer than he liked and he wanted it finished.

“Well, let me think. You know all about the keypad locks on all the classrooms, right?” Granger asked.

“I do,” Arthur answered, “Why do you ask?”

“You know that the teachers and students are the only people who ever enter those classrooms?” he said flatly; trying not to imply anything but waited for the inspector to react.

Slowly, the inspector queried, “What are you saying, constable?”

“Nothin’ exactly. Did you know that housekeeping isn’t even allowed in the classrooms? It’s just that I’ve always wondered what kind of school this is. Everything seems normal enough, but those keypads are set to give us a hell of a jolt if we miss a number. No one but Mr. Giles or Mr. Harris has the real codes and even then they change them at irregular intervals.” He hunched his shoulders and glanced from side to side lest some unknown ears hear what he was about to whisper, and Arthur and Carruthers leaned in to hear, “I think it’s a spy school!”

“A spy school?’ Carruthers fairly shouted.

“Shhhhhhhhhh!” said Granger and so did Arthur…he wasn’t sure why….maybe he was caught up in the moment. When he collected himself Arthur said, “So am I to believe that you think this school is a cover up for something sinister?”

“Sinister? I don’t know about that, but it’s a very odd place. Have you noticed the workout clothes the girls wear?” said Granger, raising his eyebrows.

Arthur was tired of whatever game this two-bit country cop was playing. “If you’ve got something to say, Granger, say it. Right now I’m thinking we should start talking to vice about you.”

“Wha? … no … no … nothing like that. The girls have a pocket in the leg of their workout clothes. They all carry a sharp wooden stick in it. What the fuck is that all about? I’m just saying there’s strange stuff going on here. Nothing on the surface. It couldn’t be more normal on the surface, but well … weird things … like little troops of the girls go out late at night … every night, mind you, and run around in the woods. Our office is always notified that they will be out ‘on patrol.’ Patrol? ... and at night? What are they patrolling for? See? See what I mean? Crazy.”

DI Arthur stood up signaling the end of the interview. “Please extend our thanks to Mrs. Granger for the tea. We need to be on our way now. Thank you for your assistance. We’ll see ourselves to the door.”

“But … wait.” They stopped. “Whaddya think?” Granger was desperate. He didn’t like being left out.

“All I can say is that you have given us a few more pieces of the puzzle. Thank you again for your assistance. Good day,” the inspector said as he and the sergeant went on their way.

Neither of the policemen spoke as they made their way to the car. Only when they were fastening their seatbelts did Carruthers chance speaking. Cautiously, trying to gauge Arthur’s frame of mind, he said, “Spy school?” Arthur turned and met his gaze, saw the mirth in his eyes, and the two men burst out laughing. Carruthers turned the key, shifted into gear and they were on their way.

~~~

Xander was busy trying to find a radio station that played something other than classical music. “I happen to know that the English picked up and ran with the concept of Rock ‘n’ Roll after the USA invented it so why can’t I find something a little less stuffy to loosen up this shebang?”

Giles wore a sly grin while saying, “I have influence, Xander.”

“Right! Like I believe that!” scoffed Xander and after considering it for a minute said, “Nah … you can’t do that … can you?” Then after a minute, “Nah!”

Buffy escaped to the kitchen hoping the redness in her eyes would disappear before someone engaged her in conversation. She puttered around, making like the happy homemaker counting the cups, saucers, plates, and napkins for dessert toward the end of the evening. She put it all on a tray to take to the dining table when she remembered the forks and spoons. As she turned to open the silver drawer, Spike leaned in behind her and slid his hand around her waist, his cool hand touching the skin under her sweater. He moaned when he felt her warm silky skin. He kissed her neck taking in her scent as he pulled her close. To have her so near and not touch her had been torture. He must have been mad. Breathless, Buffy knew if she weren’t leaning against Spike her knees would have given out. She had no words… she feared she might faint. She was terrified that whatever she did would be wrong so she waited for Spike to speak. His touch electrified her as his velvet voice rumbled against her, “Buffy, can you ever forgive me?”

She brought her hand up to pet his arm, “What am I supposed to forgive?” The words, fraught with emotion, struggled to escape as her eyes filled again.

“I am a boorish beast. I’ve been selfish and cruel.”

Buffy stroked his arm and pressed herself against him matching his pressure against her. “You were dragged into something you never wanted, why should you need forgiveness?”.

“What? What are you on about, Buffy?”

Wrapped in Spike’s arms, Buffy never wanted it to end. “Spike, I know you didn’t come to England to find me. I don’t want you to feel as though you have to stay with me out of pity.”

Spike squeezed closer, his fingers kneading her middle as he whispered into her neck, “God, what have I done to you?” He moved his hand to turn her as if leading her in a dance. “Buffy, what you’re thinking…it’s not true. It’s just not true. We went over this when I first came to you. Buffy, you’ve got to believe me.” Buffy turned in his arms and rested her head against his silent chest. “I’ve been childish and selfish and afraid and I’ve hurt you. Will you forgive me?”

She looked into his eyes, saw his soul, and said, “Spike …” before she could say any more; he covered her mouth with his in a soft, almost chaste kiss.

“I love you, Buffy. I think I must have always loved you,” he said, punctuating his words with kisses. “Please forgive me, Buffy, I love you.”

Buffy put an end to his mantra as she put her fingers to his lips and said, “And I love you. Now, shhhh, baby, shhhh. Just hold me. It’s all right. We’re going to be all right. As long as you’re holding me, everything will be all right.”

Leah wandered into the kitchen to see if she could do anything to help when she saw the lovers in an embrace. With no graceful way to back away, she cleared her throat and asked, “Anything I can do to help?”

Startled, the couple separated and faced Leah. “No,” Buffy laughed, “Everything is fine. Everything is wonderful. I just wanted to make sure…” pulling away.

Spike interrupted, stopping her, “Get back here woman, I am never letting go of you again.”

Never missing a beat, Buffy nuzzled against Spike as she finished saying, “…things were ready for later. Coffee, tea and cake. That good?”

“Well, Dawn, Giles and Xander are reminiscing about old times in there and I felt a little lost. I thought I might be of some use out here but now…I’m afraid I’ve interrupted something. I’m sorry,” contrition was evident in Leah’s voice.

Spike, never taking his arm from Buffy’s waist led Leah back into the parlor, “Actually, I think you’ll find some of those stories rather amusing. I seem to remember you said you knew all about us being a member of the Council an’ all. I think you’re about to find out that the high and mighty Council of Watchers really was a Council of Wankers…Hey Watcher!”

Giles and Xander both looked up and everyone laughed. “How about a refill for me and my ladies?”

Leah took a seat next to Giles on the couch as he poured refills around. Xander sat on the floor in front of Dawn. Spike settled in the big chair pulling Buffy onto his lap. Conversation turned to Sunnydale days as they regaled Leah with the funny side of horror. She laughed along with them with a clinician’s interest in details. They never thought that one day they might laugh about those times.

~~~

Eamon Binnemon lay on his back on his cot, his belly full to bursting. Just a fat, older than middle aged vampire, completely satisfied with himself. Last night’s rampage had been the fulfillment of a lifetime dream. He laughed aloud in the room devoid of anyone but himself. Maybe it should be deathtime dream, he thought. A timid knock at the door interrupted his reverie.

“Yah?”

Flavin poked his head in. Evidently, he’d lost the toss. “The others ‘ve been talking, boss, and they thinks there’s some stuff you should know. I told ‘em there was never nothin’ you didn’t know, but they said I had to come and tell ya anyways.” His words tumbled fast as though they understood his peril.

Perhaps it was the fact that Binnemon was sated, or perhaps it was just pure luck, Binnemon sat up on the edge of his cot and beckoned Flavin to come sit next to him and continue his tale. It remained to be seen whether the luck would be good or bad.

In an unfamiliar, almost congenial tone, Binnemon said, “Well then, what do the others think I should know?”

Flavin felt himself relax. He smiled. This wasn’t so bad, he thought. Binne was a right good fellow; the others were exaggerating about him. Finding his voice, he said, “Well, did ya hear about what happened in Bishops Cleeve?”

Binnemon’s tone changed, “Did you come to tell me somethin’ or ask me somethin’? You know, a minute ago I was feelin’ a mite tender toward you, Flavin. Now, I’m thinkin’ you’re just the dumb sod the rest tossed in here to test my mood. Well, unless you come up with whatever it is you’ve got to say right quick, I’ll carry you outta here by the short hairs and show them what kind of mood I’m in. Tough luck for you.”

Flavin slid off the cot to get out of reach just as Binne had opened his mouth. He answered, “We reckon there’s a new gang of vamps movin’ into the area. Seven people were taken out at a church up in Bishops Cleeve.” He stopped as though to catch his breath, half waiting for Binne to find some new creative way for him to turn to dust. Flavin was the first one to come upon the poor wanker that Binne crushed behind the door and was the one who put him out of his misery. “We wanna know what you want us to do. Go on the attack or invite them into our gig?”

Binne’s eyes became narrow slits. So they didn’t know it was him. Hmmmm, he’d have to think about how to handle this one. “Ah, well, at least you got part of it right this time.” He made no comment about their question. Raising his voice he said, “So is that it? That’s what that sorry bunch of wankers needed an emissary for?”

Quickly, Flavin added, “No, no Binne. The Slayer is here.”

That stopped Binne cold. “What?”

“Conlon was at a pub waiting for his every third Wednesday to get off work. She’s a barmaid…”

Binne stopped him, “Get on with it.”

“I am, I am. Anyway, he struck up a conversation with a fellow at the bar … another vamp. He said he knew a guy who knew a guy who said the Slayer came into Heathrow a while back and was stayin’ at the school. Said he was passin’ on the info so’s to let vamps know to stay away from there. He didn’t say nothin’ about it was where we fuckin’ lived.”

Binnemon was quiet. So the Slayer was the little blond stayin’ at the cottage. The Slayer. Now, this was a problem.

Buffy excused herself to get the coffee going and Spike rose to help her. The others exchanged knowing glances and smiled. They didn’t dare say anything. Neither of the couple would look kindly on their love life…or lack thereof…being fodder for water cooler conversation. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room until suddenly Dawn jumped up, “Oh….I nearly forgot. I’ve brought some things for you guys…well, not all of you….” She laughed in Leah’s direction, “I didn’t know about you!” That got a giggle too. The wine and the roaring fire made everyone rather mellow. Dawn uncurled herself from her perch on the couch and made her way to the bedroom where they’d stowed her bags. As she approached the kitchen she bellowed, “Just hold on a second guys, I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get my bags out of the bedroom.”

By the time she passed through the kitchen, Spike was reaching into the refrigerator taking cream out and Buffy was pouring the coffee into a carafe. They both smiled at Dawn as she passed by. She noticed Buffy was very pink and Spike wasn’t too quick to stand up after he grabbed the cream. Seemed like old times.





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