"Mr. Giles, I’m ready to leave now,” Mrs. Adele Reed, Rupert Giles secretary in his office at the New Council said as she peeked into the office door. “Is there anything else I can do before I go?"

Mr. Giles raised his head from the document he was working on and replied, "No, thank you, Mrs. Reed, I've a few things to tidy up and then I'm off myself."

Looking surprised, she said, "You haven't forgotten that you have a 7 o'clock, have you?"

Obviously flustered, Giles nearly knocked over his tea, "What? Oh...I'm afraid I had forgotten. Thank you for the reminder...Well then, I expect I'd best run out and get something to eat now before the shops close...."

Adele still wasn't feeling terribly secure in her new job and offered, "Can I do that for you? Will fish and chips do?"

"No, no....thank you, Mrs. Reed, a little fresh air will do me good." He replied. "Do remind me about that appointment, though, would you? I don't remember approving an evening appointment."

Poor Mrs. Reed, she was a secretary for most of her adult life and never ran across a more puzzling gentleman, hence her constant concern about the security of her job. Ordinarily she wouldn’t since she had been the very first hire as Mr. Giles and his committee set up the school. She jumped, "Oh, yes, two days ago, in fact. The man called and requested an appointment. I told him our hours and he asked if it were possible to schedule something in the evening as earlier was not convenient for him. I did speak to you about it, and you approved,” after considering for a moment and feeling a little bolder she said, "if you don't mind my saying sir, sometimes you do seem a bit distracted."

Mr. Giles, taken aback, drew in a deep breath and answered, "Yes...yes, I know. It does seem there's always a new puzzle to solve. Ah well, what was his name again? Did he mention a reason for the appointment?"

"Let me see..." she said as she flipped the pages of the appointment book over his shoulder, "Yes, there it is.... Mr. Sanger. He didn't say. He was British and it sounded as though you were acquaintances."

Giles polished his glasses, furrowed his brow and said, "No, not a name I recall,” he smiled and finished, “I'll just have to wait and see…” then after a beat, “Oh, he knows most of the staff is off by that time, yes?"

Hurrying out the door Adele called over her shoulder, "Yes, I told him the guard would point him to your office and to just have a seat. When you were ready you'd collect him. Good ni..ight," she sang as she hurried away.

~~~

Giles sipped his now cold cup of tea, sat down in the comfortable leather desk chair, and turned to gaze out the window at the waning afternoon. It had been a lovely autumn day. So lovely, in fact, that he cursed the sealed windows. He would have welcomed a fresh autumn breeze. In this quiet moment he allowed himself a moment of reverie.

It had been nearly two years since they closed the Sunnydale Hellmouth. Could it really have been that long? he thought. Yes, that had been May 2003. After too short a respite, he went to England to meet with what was left of the Council to bring them up to date on the new status of the Slayer line. It was clear something needed to be done for all those girls who were finding themselves in possession of unusual strength and skills. Without someone to explain what was happening and to channel their energies, the girls and their families and friends would suffer undue fear, injury and possibly sorrow and loss. Some might even suspect they were going mad. Medical tests would be useless and only lead to more questions. They would be corralled and studied like lab rats.

After meeting with Harold Ainsley, Gerald Cunningham and Lydia Chalmers and other notable members of the Watcher's Council, he was named the new Viceroy, a position that held no interest for him. He always considered himself a field man. However, he found it difficult to argue with the logic that it had been his Slayer who had saved the day and created this brave new world. He was the only one of them who had a clue about potentials.

Prior to this, with the Council being the Supreme Being, each Watcher worked quite independently, neither asking for nor receiving much in the way of direction from the Council. He remembered all too well the CoW’s purpose was to feed and tend itself and kept contact with an actual Slayer to a minimum and then only to follow some ancient, ill-thought out ritual.

Of course, in reality, only one Watcher was truly active at any given time, but interns were roving about the globe on the lookout for information regarding exceptionally skilled young women. These girls were the ones who made headlines. The girls with the record time on the swim team, or the young woman who made a daring rescue while on vacation, that sort of thing. She might then be identified as a potential. That word was never used until the Sunnydale incident. A Watcher might approach her and her family stating that he noted her skills and offered to be her trainer. With so much interest in the Olympics and openings for females in other competitive sports, it was a fairly easy thing to get the girls interested. In most cases convincing the parents was another matter indeed and in others, he thought sadly, the parents were only too willing to rid themselves of the responsibility of their problem child. Of course, they would train in the area that interested them...ice skating, skiing, soft ball, tennis, swimming....but the Watcher would then convince them of the importance of other skills, martial arts, weaponry and.... demon mythology. As a rule the girls were never particularly strong academically and thus accepted the ruse with little objection and were gradually enlightened as to their new role.

Naturally, all that’s changed now. Like a population explosion, hundreds of young ladies suddenly found themselves trying to cope with newfound talents. Many of them had not yet even experienced some of the expected pubescent changes. They were running to their parents or teachers, anyone they trusted, with wild stories of amazing abilities appearing out of nowhere and they in turn went to doctors and clergy desperately seeking answers. Some even went to the government. Needless to say, there was no help to be found there, only suspicion. Then, regretfully there were the girls who came from less stable homes. They were immediately labeled as delinquent or incorrigible, all the while being just as frightened by what was happening to them as those around them.

The clock striking half five startled Giles and he realized he better get to it if he meant to have a brief meal before his appointment. He turned off his computer, locked his desk, turned off the light while grabbing his jacket, and shut the door. He was starting to worry about time and decided to take the stairs rather than wait for the lift. In the lobby, Binne, Eamon Binnemon, the evening desk guard sat thumbing through a pictorial history. He finished his duties for the hour and allowed himself his favorite pastime. Giles was aware that Binne fancied himself quite the local historian. He raised his hand in a mock salute as he watched Giles exit the building.

“G’nite sir,” he said in his full rich brogue, “I’m surprised to see you leaving. I have it here in the log that you have an appointment tonight.”

“Right you are, Binne, I’m just off for a quick bite to eat. Can I bring you something?” he offered.

“Not unless you bring it in a bottle shaped brown paper bag,” he laughed. “Hah! Listen to me talkin’ like that to the Headmaster, himself. A sure way to find myself out on my ear!”

“Don’t worry, Binne, you’re a good man, and I know it.” Giles said.

~~~~~~

Giles crossed to his parking spot to his mini, no fancy sports car for him here. Here, he intended to be the very definition of practical, not cheap! He drove the short trip to The Riderless Horse, a local pub that made a fine thick stew. By this time in the evening the stew would be so thick the spoon would stand up in it. He had just enough time to eat and enjoy a pint of ale.

As anticipated, the meal was thick and hot and rich. As he ate, uninvited, the thoughts of the last few years continued. He remembered that terrible day that they closed the Hellmouth. He caught himself in the second time he made that error today. It was easy enough. It wasn’t really they who closed the Hellmouth. It was that damned vampire. He didn’t know what upset him more, the very fact that Spike had done it or that he had to acknowledge it. Buffy would have it no other way. To hear her recount the events of that time, Spike had done it alone. God, it galled him.

Taking a long slow pull on his ale, he took a deep breath and let his thoughts take him away once again. There actually was a time when he…. it was hard to admit…. almost liked Spike. There were things about him you just had to admire. He was what he was. He made no excuses. He wanted to be a liar, but he was so awfully bad at it. When he liked you, or attached himself to you, he was the very definition of loyal. Giles wanted so much to hate him.

No matter how hard Spike tried to hide it, somewhere inside there was an educated and cultured man with much to offer, a person Giles would have dearly loved to know. It ate away at Giles because it forced him to consider that the vampires he dedicated his life to eradicating were not always monsters and he didn’t like considering that there might be gray in a field that should be black and white.

Still, he was gone now and Buffy told him, like it or not, she understood what Spike was trying to tell her all along. They belonged together. She loved him and she would never get over his loss and furthermore, never intended to. Spike was in her heart for all time. She was his world and he was now hers. He was the only one….the….only….one who stood by her. Giles hung his head in shame as he remembered.

Nothing had changed, she told him. It was still her destiny to die young and when she did, she was confident she would be reunited with him. No, she was not suicidal. There was no fear of that, just an understanding and acceptance of reality. Hers was a mystical world. Thoughts of being normal were gone. She laughed when she said it, the very idea of a real life with a vampire…. Absurd, but it was the only thing she wanted.

She endured so many losses and still she coped. She threw her shoulders back and did whatever had to be done, because she was THE chosen one. And now she was back at work and giving it her all…. She tried to be a real girl, she said. She really tried when she went to Rome with Dawn and engaged in what was supposed to be a new and different life. After the better part of a year, Giles remembered, she called him and told him she wanted to work in one of the schools. She wanted to stop pretending and get on with what she knew she was meant to do.

Giles thought about how he suggested that perhaps she might find a niche working with Angel at his investigation agency. She laughed out loud and said, “That ponce?” Clearly, she was channeling Spike..

~~~~

“That it, Mr. Giles or can I get you another pint?” Martin, the innkeeper asked.

“What’s that? Oh, no, no, thank you Martin, I have to be on my way. I have a meeting in a short while,” he said pulling bills out of his pocket and handing them over. “Will that do?”

“More than do, sir. You have some change comin’.”

“Not necessary, Martin, it’s always a pleasure to have your good wife’s stew,” he said as he prepared to leave.

“I’ll be sure to tell her you said so. G’nite, Mr. Giles.” Martin watched the headmaster take his leave as he cleared away the dishes and wiped down the table and thought to himself what an odd man he was. The local merchants often talked among themselves about what the business of The New Council could be. They came up with some pretty wild ideas in the year or so it was set up in the old Harcourt Estate. Great imaginations, his neighbors, Martin thought, as he drained the last few ounces of Mr. Giles’ ale.

~~~

Giles made his way back to the Council Offices and parked a little closer to the building than usual. Evening was fast approaching and old nighttime habits die hard. He no longer carried precautionary stakes with him since he was rarely, if ever, out after dark. He recognized what cars there were in the parking lot so he assumed his appointment had not yet arrived. “Good,” he thought aloud, “it will give me a moment or two to tidy up my desk and check to see if I have any information on this fellow.”

Binne nodded to him giving him a quick thumbs down which, he thought, meant to confirm his suspicion that his guest had not arrived. On a full stomach, he decided to treat himself to the lift instead of the healthier climb up the stairs.

The building was deadly quiet. The business day ended and the cleaning staff wasn’t due until 9 p.m. He knew who was still here by the cars in the car park. Mr. Poole from the business office was still here as was Emily Hemple, the librarian. Not unusual, their cars were usually there when he left every day at six or seven and of course, Binne was on duty. Odd that he felt as though he needed to do this inventory, he thought as he went about tidying his desk. He was never particularly afraid of the dark and rather relished alone time as a rare gift.

Finished, he sat at his desk, drew a deep breath and looked around enjoying the solemn quiet of his richly carpeted dark mahogany paneled office. He never before noticed how warm and comfortable it seemed in the glow of evening lamplight. He smiled, content.

He glanced at his appointment book. There it was, 7 p.m., Mr. W. Sanger. No. It didn’t ring any bells and Adele hadn’t left any notes alongside as she often did. He chuckled as he glanced at the comment that was next to an earlier appointment he had with a mother of one of the girls. In her cramped handwriting, it said “pinched voice, whiny, watch out!” Bless her, she meant well and often her instincts were spot on. He looked at the name again.

“Sanger,” he said out loud, his brow furrowed.

He looked up suddenly, his face aghast. Ripping off his glasses and rising to go to his bookshelf, he cried, “O, good Lord. It can’t be.” He went to his French-English dictionary to look up the word sang.

Sure enough, the word meant blood. Mr. W. Blood. Surely this must be some sort of sick joke. Spike was dead. Incinerated in the closing of the Hellmouth. He gave new meaning to the phrase ashes to ashes, dust to dust. At that moment he heard the outer door to his office open. He looked out the window and saw no new car. Perspiration began to show on his forehead. He chose to sit for a moment to compose himself before opening the door. After all, it seemed he may be about to have a meeting with a ghost.

~~~ Chapter 2 ~ Auld Acquaintances

Giles opened the door slowly, not at all sure of what to expect and realized how silly he must look. Thankful that there were no security cameras recording his bizarre behavior, he tried to peek through cracks in the doorframe prepared to see something right out of Dicken’s Christmas Carol. More likely a real Mr. W. Sanger as the appointment book announced and it was just an unusual coincidence, but in his heart, he knew that when he looked he would see what he thought he was certain to never see again.

There he was sitting in the middle of the large, leather couch. perched on the edge with his elbows resting on his knees, legs sprawled, head lowered with a large brown paper bag on the floor between his legs. From what he could see, he looked very much as Giles remembered him. His hair was longer and going more to his natural color, which apparently was brown, but the ends were still bleached. He was dressed, as always all in black topped with the ever-present leather duster. He raised his head as the door opened and said, “Hello, Rupert.”

Giles was shocked. He didn’t know what to expect, but certainly not this. He always believed that vampires couldn’t age….forever young, as they say. Apparently it wasn’t entirely true for before him sat a man who, though he looked to be alive, appeared truly dead inside. He bore little resemblance to the vibrant creature he knew before. Spike once fairly bounced with energy, annoyingly so. Not so the man before him.

“Spike,” he answered simply with a nod.

“Long time, Rupert,” pausing as each studied the other. “I’ve brought you something.” Spike said, lifting the apparently rather heavy brown bag and handing it to Giles as he rose from his seat.

Taking the bag, and looking perplexed and if truth be told, a little frightened as he wondered what was in the package. Giles said simply, “Oh, really,” while stepping aside he added, “Won’t you please come in?” acting ever the gracious host.

He led Spike into his office gesturing for him to take a seat and placed the bag on the desk “My mind is reeling with too many questions,” Giles said. “So I’ll just get to it straight away. What is this all about?”

A low growl erupted from Spike’s throat sending a chill down Giles’ spine. “For once in your life try not to be such a prat, will you?” he said, his tone disgusted. “Just look.”

Giles reached inside where there were two packages, both nicely wrapped very sedate fashion, plain matte black wrap with wide plain gold ribbon bands around. As Spike took his seat he smiled as he saw the look of what? surprise? confusion? on Giles face. He was pleased. It was the reaction he hoped for. Giles looked at him, mystified.

Even better, thought Spike. “Well, go on then, open them.” Spike purred.

Inside the first box were two 6-oz brandy snifters. Giles face shown with a knowing smile as he now knew what the other box must contain. It was as he suspected, a bottle of brandy, but was taken aback when he saw the it was L'Esprit de Courvoisier, top shelf cognac. Much as he hated to admit it, he always knew there was more to Spike than met the eye.

A sly smile came across his lips as he said, “I expect I’m meant to share?”

“Clever fellow,” said Spike, returning his version of the same sly smile as he stood and took the gift glasses to the adjoining washroom that he noticed to rinse and dry them.

Giles had already cleared a space on his desk and opened the bottle before Spike returned with sparkling glasses…..a fine beverage deserved fine crystal. Giles poured a generous three fingers of the cognac in each glass and offered one to Spike.

There was a long moment of silence as each man considered his glass, swirling the contents to help warm the light brown liquid and release some of the seductive bouquet before taking a long sip and holding the nectar in their mouths before swallowing. This moment of old English civility savored, they began their discourse.

“Nice digs you’ve got yourself, Rupes.” Spike offered, “Fine old estate out here in the country…. former owner some sort of Duke or something? You weren’t all that easy to find. I’ll venture that helps out with all the demons and such trying to find you and the girls.”

“As a matter of fact, the property was actually owned by the Council. It was bequeathed to the Council upon the death of a Master at Arms, one Lord Henry Harcourt. Fortunately the Council saw fit to store their important and irreplaceable documents and books and such in an underground vault at Council Headquarters. After the rubble was cleared away the last few of us were able to recover them,” said Giles, gazing into his glass and pausing to savor the warmth spreading over him.

“So this is it then? All of it? This is the Council?” Spike asked with raised eyebrows. He reached for his pack of cigarettes and lighter, and in what seemed like the same moment, thought better of it and rested back against the comfortable chair and took a deep swallow of his drink.

Giles noticed his gift disappearing down Spike’s throat and said, “Let me guess,” he said in his dryest tone, “we’re intended to finish this tonight,” gesturing toward the bottle.

Spike chuckled as he replied, “You always were quick.” He raised his glass to Giles in a gesture which clearing meant more please. Giles huffed and puffed a bit and poured another three fingers.

He returned to the subject at hand after pouring himself another bit, “To answer your question, yes, this is it…..and no, there’s a good deal more.” He paused and reflected, why on earth am I sitting here with Spike, of all people, chatting like we’re pals when during my last encounter I did what I could to see him really dead? He was to puzzle over that one for some time before he came to an answer.

Spike just gave Giles one of his looks, the one that says, "Get on with it, you stupid twit."

“Yes, this is the Council,” His tone was firm as he added, “I am the Council,” and after a moment, “for all intents and purposes. ……” He interrupted his commentary for a sigh and then said, “There are others, of course, but none with my knowledge of recent events, so the direction of the New Council falls to me.” He took a deep breath, a deep swallow and continued, “There are a number of other buildings on the grounds. We’ve put them to good use. We have dormitories for the girls, gymnasiums, classrooms, a pool, a track, a football field and a library. There are thirty here now, more coming nearly every day. Kennedy….you remember Kennedy?”he asked.

With a sour expression on his face, Spike said dully, “I remember Kennedy,” while gazing into his brandy.

“Kennedy is our resident Slayer and …. uh…..housemother,” he said, chuckling into his glass. They shared a moment of good humor and then Giles went on to fill Spike in on the very things he was musing over earlier.

“So, if I’ve got this straight, you’re Headmaster and the Board of Directors of a very select girls school, that about it?” Spike chortled as he fought to complete the sentence without spitting out the brandy.

Considerably more mellow as the brandy seeped into his bloodstream and muddied his thinking, Giles laughed out loud at the irony, “So much for Ripper, eh? But surely you didn’t travel home just to learn what became of the Council of Watchers, et al?”

Mood suddenly somber, Spike drew a deep breath and while staring at the ceiling he muttered, “So, you’ve found me out.”

The old, well-oiled paneled office seemed suddenly very quiet. One could hear the clock ticking and the groans and creaks of the old building as the moist evening air settled around it. They sat that way, neither wanting to be the first to speak for what seemed like an eternity.

Spike finally straightened himself in his chair setting his shoulders as if to brace himself and said, while clearing his throat, “Well, yeah… actually, I’ve uh….come to you for help.” He gave a brief laugh as if amused by the depths to which he sank and continued, “I’m alone, Rupert. I’m all alone.”

Giles couldn’t quite wrap his thoughts around what Spike said. In typical Giles fashion he fumbled his words, “ What? I…I..I don’t understand. What are you saying…..you’re alone? Spike, you are, by definition, a loner. At least you have been as long as I’ve had your acquaintance. I’m still not used to the fact that you’re here at all. You went all up in flames and what dust was left is supposed to be at the bottom of the crater that was Sunnydale.” His tone now showed concern as his words slowed when he said, “Now, what, in heaven’s name is this all about?”

Spike chuffed, “ See, I knew this was a mistake.” And stood to leave the office.

“Wait,….Spike….give me a chance,” Giles said. “I really don’t understand. Here now, sit down again….Let’s start again, shall we? As a gesture of good faith I’ll even let you have more of my cognac.”

Spike stood still and looked at Giles….after several minutes he offered his glass to be filled and retook his seat.

His voice was barely a whisper. “There’s so much you don’t know. I guess I thought you’d know…..”

“Just get on with it, Spike.!” Giles demanded growing increasingly impatient and increasingly apprehensive.

Raising his eyes and looking into Giles’ eyes, Spike said, “Angel is dead.”

Giles snorted, “Humph! Yes. Of course he is! What… what are… you talking about?

Never taking his eyes from Giles, “They’re all dead.”

Giles’ raised head and bewildered expression spoke louder than anything he might have said. By now Giles was apprehensive, his heart racing. It became obvious that this was not some sort of demon prank. Spike was possibly the most vexatious man ever to have lived, but in all of his dealings with the man he never knew him to play this sort of game. Giles was genuinely on edge, a feeling he was usually able to control…. but this….this…..

“So much has happened, Rupert.” Spike’s choice of the familiar was soft and sincere, Giles noted. “You do know that Angel had aligned himself with Wolfram and Hart? Yeah? And you are aware what Wolfram & Hart is?” Giles nodded. Spike figured they were legitimate questions since Giles was sequestered all those years in good ol’ Sunnyhell dealing with small time apocalypses…. wrinkling his brows, he finished the thought, Is that right? What IS the plural of apocalypse?

Spike went on, “I think everyone was as confused as I was when that all came down. You know the ensouled poof selling out an’ all? Well, I’ve been in the unique position of observing what actually went on there. Much as I hate to admit it, it was all bloody noble.” He paused for his comments to begin to sink in, stood and wandered around the office, picking things up, touching others. This sort of thing might have sent Giles over the edge any other time, but he was too interested in where this story was going and did not interrupt.

Spike went on to tell Giles the whole story of his death and resurrection having been engineered by Wolfram & Hart. He explained that the amulet he wore to the Sunnydale Hellmouth Closing was intended for Angel. The law firm made an arrangement with Angel and now wanted to end it and ending him was their modus operands.

Giles already knew that Angel gave the amulet to Buffy and in turn, Buffy gave it to Spike as her champion. He remembered his distaste over the whole situation at the time and now remembered it with shame. He did everything in his power to separate Spike and Buffy and in so doing alienated himself and the others from Buffy by taking a stand against Spike. Spike was her champion. He could no longer deny it.

Spike explained that upon Wolfram & Hart realizing what happened they sought to undo the error and brought Spike back to the law firm confident that Spike and Angel would kill one another. Problem solved. He also shared the bit about the very difficult time he had as a ghost before he was re-corporealized. They laughed together about that, but Spike admitted it was the first time he was ever actually and truly afraid.

By this time, Giles was basking in the comfortable glow brought on by the brandy and warmed to Spike’s storytelling. He never realized what a pleasant voice Spike had even if he did have to endure that ridiculous affected accent. He knew something of his background and knew his natural tongue was that of a well-bred Victorian Englishman.

Spike continued, explaining that the evil agency failed to consider that blood was truly thicker than water and no matter how much mutual contempt ran in their stagnant blood streams, Angel and Spike were family. They shared nearly a hundred years in each other’s company and the old adage that brother could whip brother but God help the outsider who brings harm was never truer than in the line of Aurelius. Thus, the two souled vampires banded together with the others of Angel Investigations to destroy the masters of the demon world. The plan worked with the precision of Michael Corleone’s installation as Godfather, but not without serious losses.

It was at this time that Spike, shrunken and hollow, took his seat, poured another round of brandy and sat back for a moment, the silence deafening. Not wanting the story to end but recognizing that the evening had become night and night was yielding to early morning, Giles broke the silence. “Spike, it’s late. We don’t need to go on tonight. You are obviously distressed and need some rest. Have you arranged a place to stay tonight?”

Spike looked up with watery eyes and answered that he planned to take a room at the Inn.

“Nonsense,” said Giles, “I have a cottage here on the property with a very comfortable sofa.” He smiled, “I even have heavy draperies to ward off the evening chill that we can draw against the morning sun.”

Giles was trying to read Spike’s expression without success when finally his face softened and he said, “I’d be honored.”

What a strange turn of events. What started out to be a very ordinary day had become extraordinary indeed. If anyone ever suggested that he would be happy….yes, happy to continue fellowship with Spike he would have called them mad, but here he was, turning off the lights, locking the office and leaving with Spike in tow, heading home, chatting about the weather and Man U like old chums. There would be time tomorrow for the rest of the story. Giles found he wasn’t the least bit anxious to hear more. Not tonight.

“Oi! Tryin’ to sleep here!”

The sound was painful to Giles’ ears that had grown so accustomed to quiet, pastoral sounds as he greeted his day. It reminded him that he had a houseguest.

“Ah, ....yes....good morning, Spike.”

“Yeah, whatever….you know I’m not what you’d call a day person, right, mate?

With a small smile, Giles stated, “Yes, I remember. In fact I remember everything about having shared a flat with you in the past….,” he continued, bristling a bit, “I could very well see to it you have the same accommodations you had then, you know? Fancy resting the day in my nice comfortable bath again? I think this one is a bit smaller, actually.” He shuffled some things around as though searching, “I’m quite certain I have chains here somewhere.”

Spike sat up and gave Giles a feigned hurt look, “I thought we’d gotten past all that, or are you just making your usual inadequate attempt at humor?”

He replied, “Yes…. very dry British humor. We're known for it actually!"

The solemnity of the night before forgotten for the moment, Giles prepared a pot of tea and some sliced bread with jam for breakfast while Spike saw to a most welcome shower. Giles was surprised to find that Spike had a large satchel that he left in the outer office last night and was prepared with a change of clothes and his toiletries. Imagine that, it made him wonder...were all vampires that civilized?

Spike's return took the thought straight out of his head. He came back to the small kitchen looking exactly as he had before taking the shower except perhaps for some dampness in his hair. Giles said, “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any blood, this morning. It’s not the sort of thing an English Schoolmaster keeps on hand, you know.”

Spike, who had been taking care of his own needs now for nearly a century and a half answered, “No worries, Rupert, brought my own. Wouldn’t mind a Weetabix for dipping though, if you’ve any handy.”

To which Giles made a face and replied deliberately, “I am delighted to report that I’m fresh out,” and continued, muttering under his breath, “I was never able to tolerate that disgusting habit anyway.”

“What’s that you’re goin’ on about, then?” asked Spike.

“Nothing! Nothing!” came the reply.

“Ah…..huh…..So, what’s it to be then? Are you up for the rest of my sad tale or shall we put it off to the damp of the evening, a time more suited to horror stories and nightmares?" Spike asked, squeezing the blood from the pouch into one of Giles cups to put in the microwave. “All right if I put the rest of my stores in your ‘fridge, Giles? I have those freezer pack thingys, but they only hold the cold for just so long…”

Giles considered for a moment how very unusual his life was. The things he took as normal everyday conversation would rattle the soul of any average man. Things like, well, first of all, having a somewhat friendly relationship with a vampire who could discuss with him, with first hand point of view, the events of the last 150 odd years…and how many people have acquaintances that keep blood on hand? Spike was looking at him, eyebrow raised, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course.”

“Thanks,” he answered. For the first time since they’d met the evening before, the silence was awkward as both men were taken away by their own thoughts as they quietly continued their breakfast.

It was Giles who spoke first, somewhat louder than he intended, especially on the heels of the quiet, “O Lord! PLEASE, don’t dip your bread into that cup, I shall never be able to eat bread again if you do that!”

Spike looked up, startled, “Wot? It’s my tea!” And after a pause, shaking his head, “I really think you may be losin’ it, old man.”

“All right, all right, it was an honest mistake,” he said as he glanced at his watch, grabbed his cup and downed the dregs of his tea. “Better get going, I have several appointments this morning I really can’t put off, especially with such short notice. What are your plans for the day, then?”

“I don’t have any. Didn't expect we’d bond so well and figured I’d be on my way by now. … Listen Rupert, there are things you should know, and being the only figurehead I have any respect for, I don’t want to leave without the tellin’ of all of it.” Spike said.

The comment about bonding in the same sentence with respect uttered by Spike caused Giles to raise an eyebrow. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he thought. “So then, stay here for a bit. I’ll make arrangements for you to tour the school and meet the girls and…. um… reunite with Xander and Kennedy.” After a beat, he continued, “Do you think they should be here to hear what you have to say…. Xander and Kennedy, I mean? If you think so, I’ll make arrangements for us to dine here, together.”

All this was more than Spike had planned on. He expected to have a brief visit with Giles and move on, although to where, he did not know. He traveled the world, seen pretty much everything he ever wanted to, but now that he was really alone he was very much at odds and was willing to go more or less where the wind blew. He paused on that thought and shivered…. where the wind blew carried with it the idea of dust, and he died way too many times already to want to consider what would probably be the ultimate end.

“Gimme a mo’ to think it over, Giles. You be off now and call me when you’ve come up with a plan for the day. There’ll be time enough to make dinner plans later,” he said in a fairly dismissive tone.

“Right, then,” said Giles, “I’ll ring you with the time to expect Xander to come by. He’ll escort you around the school and bring you up to speed on our operation. Goodbye, Spike.”

~~~

Spike sat alone and sipped his tea. One could learn a lot about a chap by poking around his flat. The house was quiet and very, very Giles. This pleased Spike. It was good that the fellow found himself a modicum of peace, found a niche. He never had to sell out. A man couldn’t rightly ask for much more, he thought. True enough, he knew a lot of suffering in his time and lost some very close friends, even lovers, but in the end, here he was, still making a difference in a world that dared men to try. And, he was still a young man, for all that was worth. Perhaps fate had something in store for Giles somewhere down the road after all.

He should hate the bastard. He tried to have him killed. Really killed, completely dead. Not just that he was a vampire and he was bound to kill them all, but have him killed! Giles was sometimes too smart for his own good and always knew he was more than the average vampire, more than an Aurelian, more than the huff ‘n’ puff Big Bad he professed to be which would make his death on Giles’ head even more awful. Giles was around him enough to know that inside, hidden deep, he was a gentleman and Giles was a gentleman and to die at his hands would be a sin against ….well, England…yes! By God, a sin against the Queen and all that being an Englishman stood for.

Still, he couldn’t hate him for the most basic of reasons. Giles loved Buffy. Everything he did, every decision he made, every choice was in her best interest, or so he thought. How could he hate someone whose life motivation was precisely the same as his own?

He spent a few minutes clearing the table of the breakfast dishes and doing a quick wash-up and then checked out Giles’ stores to see if there was something he might prepare for the evening gathering. Pathetic. It was plain that Giles would die if he were unable to get to the cafeteria or the local pub. There was little more in the cottage than what might sustain a rat. On that thought, he chuckled.

Drawing himself up, he realized that sometime during his ramblings he made a decision. Include the others. Yes, that was the thing to do.

It occurred to him that his place was what a small cottage on an old English estate should look, right down to the leaded glass windows, dark wood beams and low ceilings. There was a hearth and fireplace rather too large for the room with a busy floral overstuffed couch and chairs. It was easy to guess which was Giles favorite by the great pile of books and papers on every free surface within comfortable reach of the chair. Add to that the fact that every other surface had a noticeable amount of dust as anything near the chair was handled often and therefore dust free.

Bloody hell! There’s no telly, he discovered. Oh, this IS tragic.

Walls that were not lined with bookshelves had some rather ordinary artwork and crafty items on them with the exception of one piece. It was a small watercolor of a meadow with long grass and tall yellow and blue wildflowers and one shade tree under which sat a girl with golden hair tied away from her face with a blue ribbon matching the ribbon around her waist the same color as the flowers. He thought the dress fabric was of the kind his mother would call white handkerchief cotton, soft and filmy with a cut lace trim. Resting along side with his head in her lap and her hand resting on his chest was a slender young man in shirtsleeves and trousers. Because of its size the faces were not in detail, but he knew they were in love. The entire mood of the scene was peace and serenity and for a moment to break his own heart.

The jangle of the phone roused him from his reverie. He cleared his throat….no, he was not crying. “Wot?” he shouted into the phone.

Even he was startled by the tenor of his voice. It was several hours since Giles left and there had been no sound to disturb the silence until the wretched phone rang. He gathered himself as Giles shouted into the phone, “Good God, man, have you given up all attempts at civility?”

Spike apologized, “Sorry… Fuck! What am I sorry for? You caught me unawares is all.”

Yes, this is the Spike he remembered. “Xander should be there in just a few minutes. He’ll bring you straight to the dining hall. We’ll all meet there and get reacquainted and then you can have your tour. Have you decided about this evening?” He said, rushing to get it all out before Spike interrupted him, or hung up.

“Yeah,” he said, “in fact, I was gonna offer to fix something here, but you don’t even own a bloody egg!”

“Really?” Giles asked with a definite air of incredulity.

“Really what? That you are such a tosser with barely a crumb in your home OR Really? You can cook?” Spike said. “For your information I been around a long time and I learned one or two things in my time. I can cook…and damn well, I might add. You’re still a soddin’ tosser though.” He sighed, “Whaddya say, I have the whelp run me to market to pick up somethin’, you know, as a sort of thanks for puttin’ me up an’ all? You won’t be sorry.”

Giles was touched, shaking his head, amazed once more at this undecipherable creature, for creature he was, he couldn’t forget. “Are you quite sure?” he asked.

“Quite sure, Rupert,” he said, affecting his most proper English tone.

“Well, then, I guess I should say thank you and ask if I should do anything, and what time would you like our guests to arrive?” he said. “Oh, perhaps you should market first as all the good produce goes quickly and there will be little left to choose from.”

“I’ll take care of all that and let you know what I’ve decided when I see you. That’s it, then.” he said and hung up.

Giles stared at the dead phone in his hand, smiled and shook his head.

~~~

“You want me to what?…who?….what?….” Xander was incredulous. “Giles, he’s dead. Gone!…… Pfffft!” Xander posed the stream of questions to his mentor-friend-boss.. OK, he thought, madman, on the phone in answer to the request just made.

Giles waited until Xander stopped his nonsense. “Xander,” he said calmly, “Spike is alive…. Well, Spike is back would be more appropriate. He’s …um…. himself again.”

“But, but, what?..how?….but….” muttered Xander.

“I understand your reaction, and I’m truly sorry to give you this information this way, but this is the first moment I’ve had free and I need you to collect him at my cottage and bring him to the dining hall. Furthermore, I don’t have time now to talk, so please just do as I say…..Oh,” he added, “he’s going to ask you to take him to market to pick up some things so you best bring your car.”

“Well, isn’t that special?” Xander whined. “I get to be his gofer. I didn’t like him before, and guess what, Giles, I’m not thrilled with this reincarnation business. What the hell is going on?”

Giles found himself begging, “Not now Xander, there’s a new girl here and she and her parents are waiting. Please just try to be a grown-up this time. Spike will probably fill you in and we’re having dinner together tonight.”

“Probably? Probably?” His voiced raised again. “You’re damn right he’s gonna fill me in. All right! I run your little errand and babysit the Evil Undead. I’ll even take him walkies. There! How’s that for giving all for the team?”

“Jolly good. Thank you, Xander. I’ll see you at the dining hall,” said Giles as he rang off.

~~~

“Well, isn’t this just dandy?” Xander said out loud to no one. Over the next few minutes he ranted in his head over the injustice of the whole thing. It infuriated him. Anyone within hearing distance at that moment would know there was something very, very wrong in Mr. Harris’ office.

“Office” is probably an overstatement. Closet with a student desk would be more correct. At least they removed the hooks that used to hold the drying mops. The sound of desk drawers being opened and then slammed shut, papers being thrust about, all a clear indication that he was extremely vexed. One of the secretaries that served the school overheard and opened the door a crack and was nearly clocked by a book flying across the tiny room.

“Oh my god, Oh.. oh.. I’m sorry. Oh.. I’m so sorry.. oh, god, are you alright?” The words tumbled out of Xander’s mouth like gum balls out of an old fashioned candy machine. He stumbled over himself trying to reach the stunned woman who was backing away with a terrified expression on her face.

She wouldn’t let him touch her, just held her hands out in front of her to keep him away and seemingly unable to speak, she turned and ran to the ladies room.

Xander stood there with what had to be his “stupid look # 19,” hands held out in front of him wordlessly asking forgiveness from the group of secretaries who were stationed in the proximity of his office and were now standing watching to see what would happen next.

Xander cleared his throat and mustered his sternest voice of authority, straightened his shoulders and said, “Ladies, I assume you have work to do?” Gathering courage, he continued, “I’ll be leaving now to attend to other important matters, please see to it any messages are left on my desk. I’ll tend to them in the morning.” He walked, out of the building, never looking back. When outside, he took a desperately needed breath before stopping and collapsing on the front step. Fortunately for him, by then he was out of earshot of the laughing group of secretaries.

Spike already checked Giles pantry and found little he could use for this dinner he offered to make, so there was choice but to make a list and ask Watcher Boy to take him to market. He looked around for a good wool blanket and was relieved to find one. It was an unusually pleasant day in what at least today was sunny old England; lovely for the English, not so for him.

He was rummaging around looking for a notepad when the doorbell rang. It was one of those twisty ones that sound like a bicycle bell. It reminded him of home…his first home…when he was a boy. Funny how little things like that can trigger instant memories? Trigger! Ah, yes, he remembered that word too. Eight more bodies to add to the list of regrets. He shook his head and pushed the thought to the back of his mind where it belonged and went to the door.

Standing in the doorway stood another memory: the boy, looking perhaps two stone less than the last time he saw him. The term boy no longer suited him either. There was an immediate air about him that spoke of someone who saw hell and survived. Spike fought the urge to pull him into a hug. He remembered there was no love lost where Xander was concerned, but he made it through the night without Giles staking him and he tried to kill him once but at least Xander never tried to follow through on his threats.

Xander’s face showed a look of pure astonishment as he said, “Jesus! I mean, Holy Resurrection Batman, it IS you! You.. You..” He gave in and wrapped his arms around a totally stunned Spike, “you’re.. back.. damn you! “ He pushed him away and looked long and hard at him and then pulled him again into another hug. This time his voice was barely a whisper, “You’re back.” Xander’s mind raced through years of hating Spike, really hating him and here he was pulling him into a manly hug. He guessed it must have been something about him having been gone. Forever gone. Dead. Eternally dead and now here he is. Miracles gave a person a different perspective on things.

Spike was overwhelmed. He thought he knew what kind of emotional roller coaster the evening might bring and now he was certain he no longer had the strength to handle a whole day of it. He was going to have to gather himself into a semblance of Big Bad for now otherwise he’d never make it and they’d all see what a poltroon he really is.

He pulled out of the hug and said, “Yeah man, I’m back! Ol’ Spike is back, just connecting with some old fr.. um, associates. He crossed the room, gathered his duster, and checked his pockets to make sure he had his cigarettes and lighter as he continued, “Can’t believe I’m gonna say this but you look damn good for a loser! At least you’re dressin’ a little better. Finally gave up the sweat pants and flowery shirts, eh? Traded them in for tweed. I guess there’s no accounting for the taste of some folks.

Xander shrugged and answered, “Yeah, there’s a dress code over here. It’s Giles’ school and he insisted on a dress code.” He went on as they exited the cottage, “something about(he affected a terribly exaggerated British accent) setting a good exahmple for the stewdents.”

Spike checked to make sure there were no lights on or anything plugged in and locked the door on his way out. There was an overhang above the door and Xander parked close enough so Spike had no problem getting to the car when he remembered the blanket. “Sod it all, I’ve forgotten the blanket. I’ll go back and get it.” Xander waited in the car.

Spike went to open the door and realized he locked it. “Fuck! It’s locked.”

Xander hollered in his most sarcastic tone, “Of course it’s locked Doctor Death, you locked it!”

“I know, I know…..no need to point out the obvious!” Spike yelled in return. “Well, make your bloody self useful for once. Open it!”

“Open it? Hah! Whaddya think I am?” Xander said, “You’re the criminal here!”

“A key, you twit. I.. thought.. you.. MIGHT have a fucking key!” He paused, and feigned a breath in frustration. “Shit! I can’t go anywhere without a blanket!” He turned to the car and took out a cigarette and lit it. “I’ll have to give you a list and put off the tour ‘til another time.” Taking a deep drag on the cigarette, he went on, ”I’ll just have to wait it out here!”

“Oh no you don’t,” said Xander, “I’ve been sent on a mission and a mission I will complete if I have to tie you to the bottom of the car to get you around town.”

“That sounds like a grand plan.. don’t mind if I decline, do you?” he said as he settled himself cross-legged in front of the door.

“No way, man. This is not happening.” Xander got out of the car and slammed the door. He shoved Spike out of the way as he started running his hands around the doorframe.

“Oi! Watch the leather! You do realize me and this coat been to hell and back and don’t fancy being pushed around?” Spike said as he dusted himself off.

“I’m searching for a key, genius. I would of thought a great criminal mind such as yours might have thought of that yourself!” Xander said.

“Oh,” said Spike, only slightly embarrassed. True to form though, he bounced up and said, “ah, breaking and entering, now that’s something I’m good at.”

~~~

The building used for the Kitchen and Dining Hall was surrounded by rich, full shade trees so exiting the car to the building was no trouble at all for Spike. Not so the trip to the market which turned into a stuttering, muttering fiasco with Xander explaining why the young gentleman was wrapped in wool on such a fine day. Spike kept insisting it was none of anyone’s fucking business and glaring at the other patrons threatening to go into game face concluding that then there would be no one cluttering up the aisles and they could finish the job in no time at all. Xander whined that he had to live in this town and the school had enough trouble with rumors about it and they didn’t need that kind of.. incident! The single most irritating thing was that after all that fuss, Spike turned on the charm at the checkout and had all the ladies fawning over him. He said he didn’t use thrall……Bullshit!

~~~

Spike and Xander entered the dining hall and all eyes turned. Partly because it was a closed campus and partly because Xander was still ranting about the shopping trip and came in gesturing and yelling but mostly because he threw open the door with such gusto that it slammed against the wall and then slammed again as it shut. He stopped. The room had gone quiet and all eyes were on him.

Sheepishly, he said, “H-hi guys.. Um, remind me to have maintenance check the spring on that door. It opens way too easily.” The secretaries who witnessed his earlier outburst continued eating, sharing mutual knowing glances. This one was definitely off his nutter.

Giles stood and motioned for them to join him at his table. As they made their way, he called for everyone’s attention. He cleared his throat, “Ahem.. May I have your attention please?”

All present put down their utensils and looked to Giles. He continued, “I’d like to introduce our lunch guest.. Um.. he’s an old fr.. Um.. acquaintance whom we knew in California, America. He’s an informal sort of gentleman and likes to be called Spike. Let’s all finish our meals now so he and Mr. Harris can get something to eat and we’ll tell you more afterward.. thank you.” He took his seat.

Spike sat between Giles and Xander and mouthed, “Mr. Harris.” Xander shot him a look as he settled in for his lunch. Meals were family style here. No standing in line with trays unless you were late, then you had to beg at the kitchen door.

Instantly, the room was buzzing. The girls were aflutter speculating the newcomers story. Sotto voce comments drifted over to the Headmasters table.

“God, he’s hot. Who is he?”

“What kind of a name is Spike?”

“His hair is tipped, how cool is that?”

“Did you see the color of his eyes?”

“Did you see how he looked right at me?” Followed by giggles all round.

Spike and Giles pretended not to hear and Xander found himself fuming. He was getting a dose of what he thought was ancient history. He choked on Buffy’s tears and constant reminders that Spike had really come through in the end. They all had to thank Spike for their lives and of course, that they were all wrong about him, for once he sucked it up and kept his mouth shut. No use causing bad blood with Buffy. Spike was history and eventually the crying would stop and the hero would be forgotten, but NO! Like the proverbial bad penny, here he was mucking up his life again! “What is it with my life? He thought, nobody stays dead!”
~~~

The meal finished and the table cleared, Giles once again took the floor. “All right then, let’s get started. Girls, I’m interrupting your schedule today to introduce you to the person seated on my right. It’s a very unusual set of circumstances and some of you may already have an inkling of what I’m about to tell you, especially those of you who have particularly acute slayer senses.” A tittering of voices could be heard. Spike looked at Giles as though he grew two heads.

“Where are you going with this, Rupes?” He whispered, furrowing his brow. Some of the girls heard the nickname and giggled. Such blasphemy was endearing this Spike to them even more.

“I’m doing my job, Spike,” making the familiar gesture of removing his glasses and polishing them as he spoke, “like it or not, these girls need to know who and more importantly, what you are.”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant plan indeed. Giles, am I to be attacked by,” he quickly looked around and did an approximate head count, “thirty odd pubescent and pre-pubescent females? Don’t think I haven’t noticed they all have a leg pocket with a wooden stake in it at the ready? And lord knows about the staff.. I thought we were passed all that!”

Xander was enjoying this little drama at his table. Once the girls found out about Spike, he was confident that he would once again be “Cock of the Walk!” The girls had been all googly-eyes over Mr. Harris…young Mr. Harris since the school opened.. He was young! He was funny! And by Jesus, he was COOL! He considered for a moment, what was he supposed to do if they tried to stake Spike? They could…heck, they should. He’s a vampire, right?

The girls listened in rapt attention as Giles considered his words carefully and continued, he decided to jump in with both feet. “Spike is a vampire.” Unexpectedly, the girls laughed.

A relieved Spike smiled, leaning back in his chair. Oh yeah, he was the Big Bad. He assumed his most charming, alluring smile, tilted his head and sought to make eye contact with every one of the girls. He saw this before. They melted.

“See? Thrall! I just knew it!” Xander said. Spike glanced at him and laughed.

Giles raised his voice slightly to bring the gathering back to order and continued; “He is over 150 years old…”

“Not quite that,” Spike puffed.

“Oh…please!” Giles shrugged, annoyed, “whatever!”

“…and is a member of the Order of Aurelius.” An audible gasp was heard. Giles raised his voice as though he were speaking to a much larger forum and assumed a very formal tone. Unfortunately, it did little to support his stance and he came off looking and sounding pompous. “You may have already learned something of the family orders in your classes. This family is known to be the most powerful and vicious of all the orders of vampires. Spike was formerly known as William the Bloody, and then took the name Spike for himself, allegedly because he enjoyed using railroad spikes in his tortures.”

“Um.. no, that’s not true,” whispered Spike, leaning over to correct Giles again.

“What are you going on about?” Giles asked obviously annoyed at another interruption.

Spike whispered, “Actually, there was a little dog that Dru and I killed. The name was on the collar… Spike. Dru had me wear the collar when we shagged. She liked it and called me her Bad Doggie.” He looked wistful for a moment and said, “One of our favorite games, that was.”

Giles looked at him with absolutely no expression on his face whatever and said, clearing his throat again, “As I said, he enjoyed using railroad spikes in his tortures….

“Now, I’m going to ask Spike to do something for us. I know you’ve all been here for a bit now and are still not comfortable with what we’re telling you in your Demonology classes. You have never seen a vampire and you believe that they are only a myth. Spike, if you would, please.. show the girls your true face.”

Gob-smacked, there was no other word for it. He worked so hard to be what they wanted, he denied himself everything that he was to get along in this human world. He kills his own, for Christ’s sake! Spike was insulted. Ironic really, he didn’t think he would have any trouble at all going into game face as the anger was rapidly rising to a boil and it would take all his strength to keep his demon from taking hold.

Suddenly, before anyone else could comprehend what was happening, Spike rose from his chair, swung around and turned towards an attacker. Behind him Kennedy rushed wielding a sharpened stake in her right hand . She wasn’t at the luncheon and her absence went unnoticed. Her highly tuned slayer senses recognized the presence of a vampire and she jumped into action first, there would be time to ask questions later. Spike did morph into game face, but hardly on request. It was evident to all that she meant to dust him. He roared a feral roar and kicked the stake from her hand. She parried with a kick to his chest that didn’t stop him. He’d fought bigger battles in the very recent past and was at the top of his game. She had been “training” with baby slayers and was inflated about herself and her skills and no match for him. He moved forward and in one move dropped her to the floor and with a four-point pin and allowed his fangs to loom over her face.

“I thought you were dust already!” she spat in his face. “I knew it was all a lie.” Her voice was loud and coarse and filled with hatred. “You never were a hero,” she declared. “What did your honey do?” her voice snarling. “Let you run out the back way…or did you just go straight through hell, have a chat with your pals and then leave out the side door?” Adding with the ultimate bravado, “Hey, anyone know if there is a side door to hell?”

Pandemonium had broken out in the customarily quiet hall. Stunned staff, screaming students, and a horrified Headmaster were all shouting at the same time. Chairs were tipped over and beverages spilled as everyone either ran to, or away from, the scene in front of them.

The shrill sound of a whistle caused all movement to cease.

Giles blew the whistle bringing the action in the hall to a halt in time to hear the sharp sound of Spike’s hand slapping Kennedy’s face echo in the otherwise silent room. Spike had long returned to his human visage. It was the Spike, the man, who was devastated by the venom of Kennedy’s words.

He could have killed her then. The new Spike, the souled Spike, the good Spike, the.. hero wanted more than anything to kill this vicious little bitch. Never.. never in all his human life had he ever known such righteous indignation. He withstood many an insult over the years. William took more than his share of abuse as a pampered favorite son with a poet’s heart and sensibility. Spike suffered through every sort of degradation at the hands of Angelus but never in his whole existence had any words burned so into his soul.

Spike released his captive, stood and left the building.

For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. When the girls began speaking to each other, it was in hushed tones, the general feeling that no one really understood what had happened, but were sure of one thing. They saw a vampire.. and vampires were real.

Xander reached to help Kennedy stand. Giles stayed his hand.

She got to her feet and sneered at Giles, “What the hell is your problem anyway?”

Xander had never seen Giles face look so hard. His voice was quiet, firm and deadly. “Kennedy, be in my office in fifteen minutes.” He then addressed the students and staff. “I regret this disturbance. Please proceed with your regular schedule. I will be in contact with you shortly with regard as to how to proceed for the remainder of the day. Thank you for your understanding. Mr. Harris, please come with me.” Giles and Xander left the building to find Spike.

It is helpful when the weather suits one’s mood. The beautiful sunny day had become dull and overcast, so much so that Spike wasn’t concerned with sudden immolation. He was down, farther down than in a long, long time and that was saying something since there were more than a few bad days recently. He leaned against the old stone building and pulled out the ever-present pack of cigarettes, lit one and took a long, deep drag, pulling himself together. He had seen evil in his day, all kinds, all species. He knew humanity was full of evil, but in the past several years, he had found himself a pocket of humanity that gave him hope. People who were flawed, but tried their best. They tried harder than anyone he had ever encountered in all his years; didn’t always get it right, but kept on trying. And here, in their midst was evil and it was pretending to be one of them. It scared him.

As expected, the former Watcher and Watcher Wannabe came looking for him. Knew there was no use in hiding, sulking somewhere. They’d only find him and pry into his feelings anyway. Might just as well face the music and get it over with.

Xander looked small, and weak, and a little frightened, leaving Giles to carry the full weight of the encounter. He began with a deep sigh, “Spike, I… I don’t know what to say…” Spike tried to interrupt and Giles stopped him. “I’m deeply ashamed. You came here in good faith with olive branch extended….” It was difficult for him to speak, his words hesitant, faltering. “What Kennedy said is an abomination and I am horrified. What can I say or do to make amends?”

Spike had regained his composure and smiled his charming smile and said, “What about Xander running me back to your place and I’ll get started on making that nice dinner we talked about? We can talk and laugh and stymie the whelp here with your vinyl collection? How’s that?”

Giles didn’t expect Spike to gloss over the terrible scene and said, “I was rather hoping you might meet the girls and talk to them. I’m learning that everything is not always what it seems and I want the students to learn that now, not when their in their dotage as I am.”

“That’s a nice idea, Rupert, but something tells me that today is no longer the best time for anymore real life lessons. I’m just guessing here, but Kennedy has set herself up as ‘Miss Perfect Slayer’ and seeing her attacked by the lunch guest might just have buggered that up a bit.”

“Just between you, me, and the lampost, I think her own mouth did her more harm than your counter attack, Spike,” said Xander.

Spike glanced at Xander, somewhat awestruck, “Thanks for that, Harris, I appreciate it.”

Giles observed the exchange between the two and was, as ever, amused at this love/hate relationship they had. Of course, love is too strong a word, but the analogy works. It was more a mutual respect resulting from shared experience they were finally willing to expose. Accepting Spike’s suggestion,
Giles asked Xander to bring Spike to his cottage and then return to his usual routine until dinner at seven.
~~~

Giles returned to his office with a heavy heart. He climbed each stair slowly, dreading his next encounter. The lift might have been faster but he was in no hurry. Mrs. Reed caught sight of him and immediately set about preparing a hot cup of tea and arranging a plate of biscuits. Miss Kane had presented herself a quarter hour earlier with her usual ill-mannered attitude stating that Mr. Giles was expecting her. She migrated to Mr. Giles office to wait for him.

“Excuse me, Ms. Kane, you may wait for Mr. Giles here in the outer office,” Mrs. Reed said sternly.

Kennedy replied, “What?….Why?” Her tone and her body language were rude. “I told you he was expecting me.”

“That may be so, Miss Kane, but he DID NOT tell me, and so, you will wait in the outer office,” she finished. “Please take a seat.” The air was electric with the tension between the two women.

Giles walked directly to his office, speaking to no one. Mrs. Reed followed him with the tea and biscuits. She watched as he slumped in his desk chair and put his head in his hands. Although they were together little more than a year, Mrs. Reed came to have an understanding of Mr. Giles and knew when to simply stand silently and wait. Of course, she heard of the incident in the dining hall and all at once she was sympathetic toward his problem, sharing his embarrassment at the behavior of one of his charges and angry that he was placed in this awkward situation. She knew that his thoughts would return to her in good time and if he had to call out to her or ring her on the intercom it would have been an irritation for him, and so, she stood and waited.

After some time, he raised his head, pulled the tea tray toward him and said, with a defeated voice, “Thank you, Adele. Have their been any calls?” he continued, “Any urgent business?”

“No sir,” she replied. “Nothing urgent. Notes of all the calls are just inside your desk appointment book.” She placed them inside to protect confidentiality, even though there was nothing of an intimate nature.

He took a deep swallow of the sweetened tea, raised his eyes to Mrs. Reed in approval and said, “Please send her in.”

He opened the file on the center of his desk. He hadn’t even asked for it. Adele was a blessing.

“Kane, Kennedy,” he read. “DOB 15/08/1983. Kensington, California. Second daughter born to Kenneth and Kathleen Kane… how cute..” he thought sardonically as he reread his pinched handwriting. He began a similar dossier on each of the girls as they were identified and joined the others in Sunnydale so long ago. He read comment after hastily noted comment.

Skilled in martial arts. Trained with masters during high school years. First noted enhanced abilities at 12 years.

Each notation of some conflict or event ended in a negative summary.

Willful. Bad mannered. Rude to superiors and peers. Disrespectful. Unkind.

Natural leader, but leads through manipulation and intimidation.
Identifies weaknesses in others and preys on them. Uses as a means of manipulation. Identifies self as lesbian.

He read the word and chastised himself for his negative feelings as though the word itself offended him. It did not. In fact, he let his mind drift to the painful hole in his heart left by the lovely young Wicca who captured Willow’s heart, and for that matter, everyone’s heart.

The more recent entries included notations of unnecessary roughness with the new potentials in what seemed to be a demonstration of her physical prowess. Several of the girls actually needed medical attention despite the fact that they already demonstrated they were in possession of Slayer healing powers.

She was overheard embellishing the tale of the closure of the Sunnydale Hellmouth with suggestions that Buffy Summers had weakened the line of the Slayer by her acquisition of friends to carry out her slaying duties. Further commenting that without those friends, Buffy was unable to do her job.

There were more comments each more damaging than the next and at the end of each, more damning statements in Giles’ own handwriting.

Now, as he read the file and considered his duty, he was ashamed that he had not the gumption to do something about her before this. He remembered all his excuses. She was strong, well trained, experienced. She seemed to be a natural leader. He ignored the disobeyed orders, the failure to carry out drills as ordered, and the lack of concern for her sister slayers, and blinded himself to her attitude regarding Buffy fearing that where Buffy was concerned he was much too sensitive.

Now he would do what must be done.

The door opened and Kennedy Kane swaggered in with all the confidence of one who really believed she was a hero. Her attitude only fueled his anger.

He gestured for her to take a seat. “I’ll stand,” she said.

“Fine, then,” he began, “As a result of your outburst today, you are barred from participating in any activity here at the school. The facilities, to be specific, the pool, the gym, the steam room, the track and the classrooms will no longer be available to you. You may remain in your rooms until I’ve made arrangements for your next assignment.” Giles went on in his most formal tone, “A gentleman of my acquaintance, Carlisle Cheswyck, formerly of the Watcher’s Council, has been traveling the globe in search of more girls that may have gone undetected. He is currently in the vicinity of Cape Town, South Africa. I’ve received several letters from him telling me of a strong demon and vampire presence there. He has asked for help, you see, and until now I was unable to find a way to help him.”

Mid-speech Kennedy decided to take the seat that had been offered. This was not going the way she imagined. Just as Giles mentioned Cape Town, she began to speak, “Giles, I…”

“You will refer to me as Mr. Giles. Don’t interrupt.” Kennedy looked as if he slapped her. It didn’t go unnoticed and Giles was inwardly pleased that he hit his mark. “You have a decision to make. You may take the assignment I am offering you in Cape Town, or remain here in the capacity of ancillary help, which is to say, you may work in the secretarial pool, or as a guard or custodian…or you may leave the Slayer program altogether.” He realized he was taking a tremendous risk. She was a slayer. It would be criminal to unleash someone with her abilities upon an unsuspecting population without some kind of supervision. He was gambling that much of her bravado was a defense.

Kennedy gasped and stood placing both hands firmly on Giles’ desk. “What?…You have got to be kidding.”

“I assure you I have never been more serious.” His voice was chilling.

“Let me get this straight,” she said, with all the certainty in the world that she was being wronged, “I’m being given a lose/lose proposition? For what? Trying to kill a vampire?”

“That’s right,” Giles said with equal certainty, “For trying to kill that vampire.” He stood up and walked around the desk. She collapsed in her seat and he stood to loom over her. “There will be no discussion. You may return to your quarters now. I will expect your answer in the morning, in the meantime I will contact Mr. Cheswyck and discuss the possibility of your transfer.”

Face red, jaws rigid, Kennedy stood and turned to leave.

“One more thing, Kennedy, I truly believe you are a talented young woman. Frankly that and your history in the Sunnydale incident have been the only reasons I haven’t dismissed you already. I sincerely hope that you choose the Cape Town assignment.”

He went on, ”Despite your privileged upbringing you seem consumed with jealousy and rage. You need a safe outlet for that rage or you will get into serious trouble and I honestly do not wish that for you.” Giles observed her for a moment, looking for a reaction of some kind. There was none.

After a moment he continued, “Should you accept the offer, you will be working as a partner with Mr. Cheswyck. He is young and talented, and wise far beyond his years. I’m certain that in an atmosphere where you do not feel as though you are in competition, you may find peace.” He took a deep sigh, looking Kennedy squarely in the eye, and thought he noted a hint of surrender. “You may go,” he finished and returned to his seat.

Giles placed his head in his hands realizing that today it was becoming a habit and thought he had never felt so old, not even in Sunnydale. He found he had fallen into the trap of complacency. He imagined a bright new future with his only problems being budgets and the occasional uproar caused by one of the girls bringing a boy into the dorm or a finding they had alcohol stashed for a party. Now he had to consider the offer he gave Kennedy.

He knew full well how bright she was. Would she realize the trump card she held? He did not want her outside of the New Council’s influence. Considering the depth of her anger, should it be turned toward the Council, they would have a much bigger problem on their hands. With all she knew already about the developing plans for the potentials she could be very useful indeed to the forces they were pledged to fight. He hoped that he made the Cape Town offer sufficiently attractive that it would be her choice. And he really did believe it would be good for her. Poor Cheswyck. She’d be a handful, but he was confident it would be a good match.

~~~Chapter 6 ~ Anticipation

Spike wondered where the baby spinach leaves he bought came from, he knew they must be imported. It was too late for spinach to do well in Gloucester, so he was certain it wasn’t local. Very nice, though. He washed and towel-dried them so the dressing would cling. He found canned mandarin oranges at market and drained them, then put them in the fridge to cool. The dressing was simple with honey and balsamic vinegar and an herb or two. He certainly never ate the like when he was a young man in London. Cook, while having a kind heart, did not come by the title honestly. She couldn’t cook worth spit. After his father died, his mother was a sucker for anyone with a sob story and if she couldn’t give them money, she gave them a job; not much pay, but it always came with a roof over their head and a warm bed.

When he checked the kitchen in the morning he found that Giles had a working broiler and decided a nice rare steak was the way to go. He would season it and let it rest. The fine cut cost a bundle but it was worth it. If he kept a section rare enough it would help his blood supply last a little longer before having to make a trip to a blood bank or a butcher.

He smiled as he looked over the table. They thought he was a monster? They’d find out tonight that he was a monster with very fine taste. Giles’ dinnerware left a lot to be desired so he exaggerated the mismatch and it looked fine. He remembered to buy candles and it turned out that Giles had some. Of course, the kind he had were utility candles in white, but they burn nice enough so he used them too. What would dinner with a vampire be without candles?

The glassware was another matter altogether. There were plastic glasses that he summarily dismissed and tumblers. No stemware at all. Bloody heathen! He needed glasses for three kinds of wine not to mention the brandy later and Giles didn’t have that many …so, he would rinse them between the salad and dinner and again between dinner and dessert. “Make nice chit chat at the same time and impress ‘em both with my domestic skills and clever banter,” he thought aloud. With a little time until sundown and guests not expected until seven, Spike settled himself for a kip in Giles’ favorite chair.
~~~
Buffy wasn’t herself. Oh, she wasn’t sick, or mopey, or bitchy…well, she wasn’t any bitchier than usual, but there was something not right and that was definitely not of the good, thought Dawn. She had three calls from her this week and that in itself was weird, but the reason for the calls was even weirder. She just wanted to talk.

I think I’m scared.

Something must be up and she just hasn’t reached her quota of talky-talky before she can really get to the meat. I’ve been away at school more than I’ve been home for two semesters and she called me exactly…not at all…until now.

Yup, I’m scared.

Buffy is like that. For all her big, important “I’m the boss-Slayer of all Slayers” decision making, she can’t come out with a simple statement without beating it to death with meaningless blah, blah, blah first. So, I guess all I can do is put on my headset when the phone rings and paint my toenails while I wait for her to get to the point. I hate speakerphones.

Of course, I could just not answer…but then I’d never find out what’s up until it’s too late…also not good. Probably another apocalypse… coming at mid-term…just what I need, another distraction. All this Core Curriculum crap is getting to me. Thank the gods that I was able to take one elective to keep me interested. Shit! If all you’re doing is Core Curriculum, college is nothing more than High School, Part 2! I mean…how many times do you have to study English Composition and frigging World History? Oh yeah, excuse me…it’s Anthropology, the Study of Man Through the Ages…which, if you don’t mind my saying so, is frigging World History! And Math? Puleeze!

The phone rang and interrupted her internal rant. She jumped at the sound and spilled the nail polish.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” She hissed, hopped off the bed to grab some tissues and knocked over the nail polish remover too… “and yet again more shit!” she yelled this time. The phone kept ringing and ringing it’s cute little electronic Toccata in D theme as she tried to mop up the damage thinking she would sincerely like to pitch the thing through the window.

She grabbed the phone, flipped it open and said a loud, harsh, “Hello!”

“Hi!” answered Buffy, in a tone that was both cheerful and suddenly cautious. “Um, this a bad time?”

“No,” Dawn sighed, “Not a bad time, the phone just made me jump and I ….oh, never mind…you had to be here. What’s up?” She walked over to get her headphone off her desk to make ready for what was surely going to be a long, boring diatribe about nothing.

“Giles called last night. Left a message in my voice mail. He’s sending Kennedy away. Wants me to go over there.”

Four blunt sentences, more information in four blunt sentences than she had in three half hour phone calls. “Holy Shit! What happened?”

“Dawn, your mouth is getting like a sewer. Is that what you’re learning at college?” Oh God, Buffy thought, I am turning into a mother. She was careful not to say, my mother, even though it was true. She never wanted to have any negative memories of her mother. She was rapidly turning her into a saint. She had to remember, her mother was a wonderful, whole, live woman, not a saint, but she felt as though remembering being pissed at her was somehow disloyal. Can’t ever escape Mom issues.

“Yeah, Buffy, I’m taking the advanced class considering I grew up on the Hellmouth! Besides, I think Kennedy getting fired deserves at the very least a Holy Shit!”

“Not fired.” Buffy emphasized. “Sending her away, two very different things.”

“You’re right! She said abruptly. “Very different. Fired would have deserved a FUCKIN’ A!! … My bad.” Dawn said as she smiled knowing full well that she was sending her sister right over the edge…. her purpose in life after all.

“DAWN!” Came the expected reply!

Dawn appealed, “Look, can we just get on with it? What happened?”

Buffy began with a deep sigh, “To be honest, I don’t know. I tried to call this morning, which is this afternoon there, and I spoke to his secretary who said he was unavailable. I reminded her WHO I was and that he would be available to ME. She was really nice and said he was unavailable to anyone. He was only in briefly in the morning, asked her to cancel any appointments for the rest of the day and said he would have his cell phone turned off. So I can’t talk to him. I did leave a message on his cell, but he hasn’t called back and its night there now.”

“Wow,” came Dawn’s hushed reply.

“A definite wow…anyway, I’m gonna go. That’s the real reason I’m calling this time…to let you know I’ll be out of the country for a while. Don’t know how long. I’ve booked a flight tomorrow afternoon for New York. My flight to London leaves at midnight. What I’ll do when I get there will depend on whether or not I can get hold of Giles between now and then…you know,… whether I’ll stay in London or go right to the school.”

“Buffy…..(a long pause) Buffy, what’s going on?” Dawn said in a conspiratory tone.

“I wish I knew, Dawnie. I never thought I’d say this, but I wish I was having Slayer dreams. At least then I’d have a puzzle to work on….all cryptic and metaphory.” Buffy said. “I have been having something, I don’t know…feelings…. senses….tingles….. That’s why I’ve been calling.”

Hah! I knew it, thought Dawn while Buffy continued, “I thought talking to you might help me tune in, you know? I’m sorry if I’ve wigged you.”

“Well you did, you know? Wigged me, I mean. But I’m glad you tried to get help from me even if you couldn’t figure out how to say it….”

“So, OK! Um, I’ll call you from New York to let you know if I have any more info. I love you, Dawn, bye.”

“Wait,” Dawn cried urgently. “Buffy….”

“Yeah, Dawn?”

“You want me to go with…?”

“Aw, that’s nice, Dawn, but no. I don’t know what I’m walking into. Something funny is going on and I’m equipped to handle funny. I know you’re strong and smart and experienced, and all that and I promise if I need you, I’ll call. You’re only just a few hours away,” said Buffy.

“Promise?” Dawn asked.

“Promise.” Buffy said.

“OK, then. I love you, Buffy, even if you are the skankiest sister anyone could ever have.”

“Thanks Dawnie,” Buffy smiled. “I love you too.”
~~~
After he dropped Spike off at Giles’ place, Xander headed back to his (cough, cough) office. The secretaries were all busy at their jobs engaged in some sort of work. He never could figure out just what it was they did. He guessed it was important and he did notice that the pile of stuff he went through every day sort of appeared and disappeared every day. It had to come from somewhere and go somewhere but he had no clue where. He hadn’t yet gotten to the point where he could say, “Get me that file on so ‘n’ so!” So nobody ever brought anything back.

He smiled and said ‘Hi’ to them, but none of them so much as raised an eyebrow.

What’s up with that? he thought.

He spent the rest of the afternoon reading Watcher stuff and mostly wondering what was happening with Kennedy and how what seemed like a pretty cool, out of the ordinary day could go so wrong so fast. Apparently all this wondering made the day go by pretty quickly and he realized the office outside was getting quiet.

Finally, the oldest (at least he thought she was the oldest…she sure looked the oldest) and probably most senior of the secretarial pool gently knocked on his closet and said, “Mr. Harris, we’re all leaving for the day. Was there anything else I can do for you before I go?”

“Um, no thank you. Everything locked up OK? Anything you need from me?” He said. He never knew what he was supposed to do when they asked that. There ought to be a manual, he thought.

“No sir,” was all she said.

No help there, as usual. Nothing left but to say, “Goodnight, then.”

She smiled, so that must have been the right thing for him to say. Good. Got it right. Yay me!

He cleared his desk. This only took a moment. After all, all he had to do was put the magazine away in his bottom drawer under the files, locked the drawer and his office door and zipped down the stairs, waved a “so long” to Binne and stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn’t Binne.

He turned and approached the desk, “Hi there,” he said.

“Good evening, sir. Is there something I can do for you?” the buff looking fellow in the security uniform said. He had a really, really, really thick Scottish accent…what do they call it?…a brae?…burr? something like that.

“You’re new! Is Mr. Binnemon OK? I’m just used to seeing him here in the evenings,” said Xander.

“You’re American!” the guard replied.

Xander answered with a long drawn out, “Yes,”…. “and you didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh. Yessir, I apologize. I’m what you call a temp. The name’s MacGregor. I’ll be here through next week.”

“Nice to meet you MacGregor, I’m Xander Harris, but you still didn’t tell me about Binne.”

“Well, I don’t know, do I? I was instructed to come here for the remainder of this week and into the next. I’m sorry I’m no’ more help,” the man said.

“OK, well thanks anyway, Mac, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Xander said as he turned to leave.

“It’s MacGregor, sir.”

“Right.” Xander exited the building. Touch-eeee…..he thought! Why is it night guards are always older guys? Makes noooo sense whatever. OK, so this guy was buff but no spring chicken. What can they do in an emergency except get hurt and let the bad guys go? If these guys had any clue what kind of a place this was we’d be doing our own guarding. Nobody in their right mind would work here…..Well….that’s not true, he went on. I’m here…he paused…realizing where his train of thought was taking him…. he quit right there!
~~~
He heard them long before he saw them. He was just rounding the corner into Giles’ driveway when he heard Giles shouting and pointing at his entryway. Uh-oh…

“Surely you could have called me. Done something other than breaking in the door?”

As calmly as he could manage, but still yelling, Spike said, “I could’o done a lot of things, but THIS is what I done. Got the job done dinnit? What’s the fuss? The boy’s a carpenter by trade…he can fix it!”

Barely containing his anger and working to lower his voice, which had the effect of being even more menacing, “I would have told you where I have a key hidden,”. …. and finally muttered a frustrating, “Anyone could have walked right in.”

“Oh, come on Rupert, what have you got worth stealin’….a teabag?”

Clearly affronted, Giles said, “Never you mind,” and stormed through the gaping entrance.

Xander and Spike shared a conspiratorial glance and followed him in, Spike pitching his half-smoked cigarette onto the lawn.

“Giles, it’s an easy fix. I even brought the wood. I thought I’d get here before you did. You never told me you had a hidden key,” Xander said.

Deflated, Giles said, “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?”

Spike snickered as he lit the candles and Xander looked sheepish.

Spike poured Scotch on the rocks for Giles and Xander while he had his neat; he sipped his drink as he tossed the salad. Giles had given up his anger. He realized it wasn’t worth holding onto it considering the other events of their day. Winding down with a drink before dinner was just what the doctor ordered and from the looks of things, Spike was quite the host. It made him wonder about how and when Spike learned this sort of thing….Probably as a boy….Maybe after he was turned with his family?…which led him to thinking about that menu ….ewww. Better not go there.

Apart from comments about the dinner and the attention that had gone into wine selection there was little discussion at the table. Playing softly was a recordings of chamber music. It lent a perfect touch to the quiet dinner party. Spike picked a French Chardonnay to go with the salad. Nothing to do but to finish the bottle. It would be a waste not to, nobody would want to drink it tomorrow. By the time they were moving on to the steak, steamed asparagus and garlic-buttered French bread, they considered finishing each bottle a duty, but that’s what four fingers of Scotch followed immediately by Chardonnay will do to you.

Spike broiled the steak to perfection with a nearly raw piece set aside for himself, just browned enough to look cooked out of deference to his squeamish dinner partners, and served it with a robust burgundy. As he poured a second glass around, the mood was mellow with conversation kept to light matters. They brought Spike up to speed on the plans for the current schools and development of others.

“Well…. There are three schools now, Giles said rather proudly, in between bites. The New Council Academy for Exceptional Girls: one in Los Angeles, California housed in Angel’s Hyperion Hotel; one in Cleveland over a still somewhat active Hellmouth in an old hospital building that had lain waste which we acquired from the city after accessing the monies hoarded by the previous Council. Giles pulled himself up short, “oh dear, that sounds bitter doesn’t it? I suppose, invested carefully would be a kinder expression, and I should be grateful. Thanks to their frugality, we have no lack of ah…um…. fundage….to quote Buffy……”Giles paused and smiled tenderly, “…and one here in the west of England.

“Yes,” he said, “we’ve come a long, long way” and then suddenly, “bah,” he said, “shame on me. It’s been too long since I gave a thought to the …ah…Scoobies.”

Xander, who was doing a fine job on his second helping of the steak, said, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, G. We may not like it, but life does move on.”

Frowning at Xander, Giles said, “I’d prefer you didn’t call me G, Alex.”

Xander raised his brow and Spike quickly covered his mouth as he nearly spit all over the table at the snarky comment. “Point taken,” Xander said.

Giles went on, “But…thank you, your gaff reminds me of Faith. I know she was never really a Scooby, she was, nonetheless, one of the final team, and is now Slayer in Residence in Los Angeles with Andrew. Like a dog with a bone, once he sets his mind to something, there is no stopping him.” He stopped and lifted his glass toward Spike indicating he wanted a refill. Spike complied. He nodded in thanks and continued, “Buffy is in Cleveland and Kennedy, here in Gloucester”. He opened his mouth as if to continue, and paused to consider Buffy.. So lonely. So sad. Nothing left of the delightful young girl he met so long ago and now thought of as a daughter. She had seen more sorrow and darkness….he took off his glasses to polish, and sighed a deep sigh, it was difficult even to consider. He chose not to share those thoughts and cleared his throat and went on to speak of Kennedy. He cringed. He so thoroughly disliked her. “It is a rare day when we don’t clash over some point or other… and finally,” he sighed, …Xander is here as a Watcher in Training.” Giles smiled at Xander and went on, “ Whether he realized it or not, he honed his skills as a buffer during those critical years in Sunnydale and did an acceptable job at keeping me from sending Kennedy to somewhere in the darkest part of the Congo…” and then concluded, reaching for another piece of garlic bread, “until now.”

Spike, seeing Xander’s face taking on the glow of pride took the opportunity to take him down a peg, “Oh, yeah. If I remember correctly, Harris helped buffer the Slayer right out of her own home.”

Not being one of Xander’s stellar moments, he looked stunned, dropped his eyes and hung his head. Giles quickly sought to defuse the moment and said, “Yes,…we all made a lot of mistakes back then.”

What had been a mostly pleasant evening thus far took on a decided chill. The three men remained speechless for a time while each considered events long past.

“What about Red?” Spike asked, seeking to change the mood. “Don’t tell me you couldn’t find a spot for her in your little empire?”

“Quite right, Spike. Willow is a key figure amongst us. She is assigned to Cleveland with Buffy. Honestly? She would be better placed at the Council, or here, but I wanted to make sure Buffy had a friend nearby. I know Buffy would have no trouble making new friends but I felt she needed someone who witnessed the remarkable events in Sunnydale. One who understood… as much as anyone might understand, and I knew Willow had a good heart and would stand by Buffy and support her, even if she occasionally disagreed with her.” He beamed. “And I recall, she may have been hesitant setting Buffy straight, but she always saw it through.” He felt good about that decision. “Oh, I suppose I should mention that she isn’t idle there. She serves as liaison to all our offices and satellites. I assure you we keep her very busy.”

Xander interjected, “And…it got her away from Kennedy, which I, for one, raised my hand high when the vote came up.”

“You voted? What? Just the two of you, or the whole bleedin’ council?” Spike asked, surprised.

Giles shook his head in disbelief, “Of course there was no vote.”

He started to go on but before he could finish, Xander said, “That was a joke… sarcasm?…or literary license or something. You, Captain Peroxide…being bereft of humor,… didn’t. get. it! Apparently funny didn’t appear in history until after you died.”

Spike’s eyes glowed yellow and the table shook with the vibration of a low growl. Giles made haste to continue, “I abhorred how Kennedy attempted to dominate Willow. The foolish girl had no idea of Willow’s power. No…I preferred Willow be in the company of a comfortable, loving friend, not a volatile, nefarious lover.” Then he went on to boast of his plans for Xander and admitted that he really was quite proud of his progress. Xander actually blushed and the talk turned to happier times in Sunnydale. It slowed the pace considerably; there weren’t that many happy times in Sunnydale.

Just before dessert Spike changed the music to an earthy New Orleans blues quartet, very visceral music. The last of the dinner Spike served at the table was a large bowl of strawberries with crème fraise and a New York haut Sauterne, quite sweet, but very light and fruity. A port would have been much too heavy against the fresh berries.
~~~

The table was cleared. The dishes stacked. A tray of grapes, with sections of apples and oranges and very sharp cheddar was placed on the small table in front of the couch and each man had a tumbler of brandy when Spike began to weave his tale.

He spoke slowly and deliberately in his deep velvet voice, the sultry music quietly continuing as a background lent gravity to the mood. “Angel is …gone…dusted,” he said. “So is Wesley Windham-Pryce, Fred Burkle, a beautiful, kind, little scientist, Charlie Gunn, part of Angel’s AI team and a whole lot of innocents. I figured you knew all about this bein’ the new sovereign of all things mystic, an’ all. Didn’t reckon on havin’ to do the tellin’ myself.”

Somewhat drowsily, Giles said, “Establishing the schools and organizing the Council has taken every moment of my time, Spike.” He heaved a sigh, “To be honest, Sunnydale had been THE most active Hellmouth and with its collapse, I believed I could relax on the issue of another imminent global apocalypse. Evidently I was wrong.”

Something in Giles’ tone rankled Spike so he stood and menaced at Giles, “You self-inflated, pompous son of a bitch. You really do think the world revolves only around you. People died…good people …my friends…your…friends…Christ Almighty, I’m a fuckin’ vampire and I care more about …mankind…than you do.”

Now he was pacing, muttering to himself, searching for words, deciding what to say and what not to say. Giles and Xander watched, each cognizant of how much he resembled a ferocious panther and feared he would strike. “I happen to know that Angel called you….to ask for help…you blew him off…” He was primed now…these were wounds that wouldn’t heal until they were cleansed and now was as good a time as any to cauterize the festering anger that had been building in his soul. He dropped to his knees in front of Giles. Xander jumped expecting an attack.

“Settle down, Harris, I’m goin’ to say my piece now…there’s a score I mean to settle with the old man here and you might as well hear it. You need to understand what a right bastard he can be.” Meeting Giles square in the eye, he began, low and threatening, “There was a girl. A tiny, sweet, brilliant girl who was part of Angel’s team. She was everything that is good and a very bad thing happened to her. She got caught up in a crazy scheme only made crazier by one of Wolfram & Hart’s lackeys. She died, but she didn’t just die, you see. Her life essence was sucked out of her to make room for someone else …SUCKED OUT!” He roared into Giles face.

Throughout this diatribe, Giles sat and met Spike’s gaze not willing to have his spirit broken by Spike’s furor. He knew he had more things to contend with on any given day than any man ever should and he could not be held responsible for what happened somewhere outside his radar. His absence of response didn’t surprise Spike, not really. He remembered vividly how easily Giles bought into Wood’s plan to kill him. This little sojourn up until now was agreeable, but he must always remember that Giles was nearly as dangerous a predator as he was. It occurred to him that maybe that was why he came to Giles now…he recognized in the Watcher a soul nearly as depraved as his own and in need of redemption as much as he was himself.

He stood and seized the bottle and took a swig straight from the bottle, “Parched,” he said. His voice was hardly above a whisper as he said, “You were in a position to help, Rupert. You had knowledge and resources that Angel didn’t have. He believed you were a white hat and would help in a righteous cause. He was wrong.”

“Spike, Angel was affiliated with Wolfram & Hart, a syndicated network of evil,” Giles said in his driest English tone.

Feeling the need to defend Giles’, Xander chimed in reminding Spike that Angel moved on years earlier.
They were worlds apart and then came the accusation, “Where the fuck was he when Sunnydale came crashing down on you? I thought Buffy was the “love of his life” yet he didn’t bring his team around to help when things got tough?”

Spike raised his eyebrows in disbelief, “He did come, you dolt. Did that preacher poke out part of your brain too? How do you think I came to wear the amulet?” He shook his head in frustration and waved his arms, spilling some of his drink…”Shit! This isn’t about Angel…,” he turned and faced Giles, “It never occurred to you that Angel would rather give up a limb than ask for help? Shouldn’t that have given you a clue?”

Giles sat rigid at Spike’s fury, still certain his decision was just.

Xander was now moved to stand also and jump into the rapidly deteriorating conversation, “Hold on, Bleach Boy….Angel is dust? I mean, really dead?…dust?” He dropped down on the couch, utterly deflated. “God, Wesley too?….Spike, what the hell happened?…Does Buffy know?”

~~~

It boggled his mind. He hadn’t even begun his tale and already he was knackered…in a good way. He carried that anger around for a long time and it was damn well time he unloaded it where it belonged. He knew Giles wasn’t accepting any responsibility for those lives…yet…but he knew he would have to before this night was done.

It hurt though, bringin’ it all up again. God, how it hurt. He knew it would be this way and still he came ahead. He lived it once, and he was reliving it all over again; it was becoming more apparent every day that he really did need his head examined. When it was over he should have just disappeared into the mist, found something different….let it all go. If the Council really needed to know these things the Powers would have seen to it.

Suddenly, and without warning, it was all clear. He squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head. How could I be so thick? The Council does need to know and here I am doin’ their biddin’ again. He fisted his hands and roared at the ceiling, “When are you wankers goin’ to leave me alone? Just let me be,” he pleaded.

Xander and Giles froze in their seats. Spike had been quiet for a time and seemed to be having an internal conversation when it erupted into a shouting match with the ceiling. “What the fuck?” Xander aptly said followed immediately by Giles, “I concur!”

Brought back to the moment, Spike glanced at both men and laughed. The watchers met each others glance and tried to read his thoughts and wondered if now was the right time to run. This was all too weird. Spike smelled their fear, settled down and said, “No worries, mates. I just had a funny thought.”

“…and you felt the need to yell at it?” questioned Xander.

“Yeah. Don’t tell me that never happened to you?” Spike said as he rearranged the cheese and fruits to make the platter appealing again.

Xander conceded to himself that he spent a lot of time talking to thin air and decided to let the issue go. Giles wasn’t admitting anything and sought to change the subject with patter, “Great cheddar, Spike. Did you get it in the market in town?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I transported to Wisconsin just a few minutes ago. Didn’t miss me then? (pause) Of course I got it at the market in town you pillock! I’m fine. Just let my mind wander a minute is all. I’m drained. This talk is bringin’ it all back and it’s damn unpleasant. Listen up, now. I’m gonna go outside and have a smoke. You two talk about me all you like, maybe put some notes in your Watcher Book, Rupes. Harris, you watch how he does it so you can learn. Howzat, then?” and out the door he went.
~~~
The two sat quietly for what seemed like a reasonable amount of time and when Spike still hadn’t returned they got up and went to the kitchen to do the wash up. They were silent except for the occasional exchange as to where things were stored and whether or not to save some of the leftovers.
They were just finishing and at the point of some concern over Spike when he pushed aside the still broken door and came in. He noticed what they did and started with, “Thanks for that, gents. Shall we get on with it then?” He poured himself another drink and settled himself on the couch opposite Xander.
The others made themselves drinks and settled in as well.

Spike went on to tell the tale of Angel’s involvement with Wolfram & Hart. Giles was unmovable until Spike explained that Angel convinced his team that they actually could effect a greater good with the resources of the infamous law firm. The feeling in LA was that they did make a difference until they came to realize that for all the good they did, evil was still flourishing.

“The way I hear it, it was a pretty cushy lifestyle over there.” Xander said with something of a sneer, siding with Giles.

“Yeah, it was.” Spike remembered. “Be lyin’ if I said it wasn’t. And I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t like the Viper I have stored in a parking garage in the States or the Swiss Bank account that Angel set up for us before we made our move. Figure it’s payment in advance and dosh to continue the good fight. Couldn’t do evil if I wanted to anymore…” he met each man eye to eye, “soul weighs too heavy.”

He lowered his head and stared into his near empty glass, threw his head back and downed his drink… after a pause he included, “and don’t think I wouldn’t like to do the occasional evil, y’ know, I AM still Big Bad!” He grabbed the bottle and poured himself a generous drink and topped off the others glasses too.

“It seems you have a moral dilemma, Spike. Taking the money and the luxury car from Wolfram & Hart? Doesn’t that give your soul a twinge?” asked Giles with disdain.

“Ye..ah,” sing-songed Xander. “What would Buffy think, dead one?”

“Buffy doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t even know I’m back.”

“What? I’d have thought you’d hop on your scooter and find her ASAP?”

“Yeah, me too….and I did…hop on my scooter….but I didn’t. It’s complicated.”

Giles listened to this exchange and decided to keep his call to Buffy to himself for the moment. He would wait to hear the rest of the story before deciding whether or not to let Spike know she was coming. Spike would probably be leaving by nightfall tomorrow and even with good connections, there was no reason why their paths should cross. He said, “Get on with your story, Spike.”

“You ever hear of the Circle of the Black Thorn, Watcher?” Spike asked. With the mention of that organization, Giles sat up and pondered Spike’s face, trying to read it.

“Ye…es. It’s a fraternity of demon Lords, for the want of a better description….ancient….some of it is believed to be mythical. Sort of…a demon Mafia.”

“That’s a good description, Rupert. It wasn’t mythical…and it’s gone! Well, bloody well damaged anyway.”

“Gone? What do you mean, …gone?” cried Giles.

“Gone.” Spike said simply taking another deep draught of his drink and reaching for the bottle again.
“We took ‘em out just like Al fuckin’ Pacino in the Godfather…all at the same time. We took ‘em out…we did…paid a helluva price though” he said as he poured another four fingers of the liquor into his glass.

“How…for god’s sake, man…?” Giles stuttered. “THIS is why Angel wanted help? Why didn’t he say that? We had troops, supplies, magics. We might have helped!” said Giles, his voice becoming barely a whisper, “We might have saved lives….”

Spike retorted, “…and don’t you think I said so to the great Poof? Ho…no! He’d have none of it…besides, you refused him once, you really think he’d come crawlin’ to you again? You’re daft if you do….No, HE had a plan.” He repeated after a time….in barely a whisper, ”He had a plan,” he said, gulping the drink down.

The enormity of the thing was beginning to dawn on Xander and Giles and they could only sit in silent respect and do their own damage to the alcohol.

“Listenin’ to Angel tell it, it was like some kind of soddin’ epiphany. He’d seen that the team was driftin’ apart and he was itchin’ from sittin’ behind a desk. Vampires can’t sit for very long y’know.”

‘We know, ” Xander chimed in, …”we know.”

“Yes, Spike, we’ve noticed that without a regular opportunity to vent energy that vampires tend to get restless.” Giles added in agreement speaking slowly. He made this comment without intending any irony. The scotch, wine, brandy and what all was starting to muddle his thinking.

“Bloody right!” Spike went on. He had the peculiar feeling that they were being snarky, but couldn’t quite tell. He decided to let it go…this time. Maybe the alcohol was starting to get to him too.

The evening wore on. Spike told the whole tale of the orchestrated elimination of the Circle of the Black Thorn. He explained each members assignment. Wesley’s death had been witnessed by Illyria, the god-King that was inhabiting the body of the sweet young lady physicist. Spike himself saw Gunn go down, and finally Angel as he burst into dust on the back of a dragon as a zambroth, a creature that looked like a parrot on steroids with a double horned beak, came down and ripped his head off.

Spike’s voice cracked with emotion as he continued his tale. He said as soon as Angel was gone, the alley they were trapped in went silent. No sound…no sound at all and the legions of demons and Hell spawn sent to destroy them faded. Really…faded like in a movie. Not so the knee-deep blood and gore they were left standing in.

“I saw that Illyria was still standin’ too. I went to her and we hung onto each other for a bit. Neither one of us knew what to say…. or do. A soddin’ strange one, that one…. she called me her pet.”

Xander looked up and snorted, “Like your honey, right?”

“No, mini-Giles. Like a sod all, fuckin’ cat, or dog or bird”. Spike replied through the foggy mist of alcohol that was enveloping all of them.

“Ohhh,” Xander answered with a huge smile on his face. Giles lifted his eyes and appreciated the idea too.

Spike went on to say that they figured they needed to get out of there while they could. They stopped and considered the bodies of their friends and sadly understood there was nothing more they could do for them. More to the point, they knew that Wes and Gunn and Angel would want them to get out while they could and get on with whatever life had in store for them.

Illyria was the first to leave, he explained. She said she couldn’t stay in this realm any longer. She was willing to “keep” me…if I wanted…..until she decided which dimension she would conquer.

He admitted that in dealing with a god-King it was just easier to go along with her misconceptions of this world, so he respectfully declined, with strong emphasis on the respect. He confessed to Giles and Xander that while he didn’t like to admit it, she was known to seriously and repeatedly kick his undead ass and didn’t want another go round.

She agreed to set him free, he said, and Giles and Xander couldn’t let this one go. Giles giggled and slid right out of his chair. Xander tried to stand and give Giles a high five, tripped over the tea table and landed on the floor…both of them nearing tears in their laughter.

Spike simply stood swaying, watching them…enjoying their laughter at his expense waiting for the moment to end. It took just long enough to piss Spike off and he yelled, “Oi! Enough!”

The two Watchers composed themselves after a time that included giggles that came back in waves with phrases that included words like “kibbles’n’bits” and “choke chain” and “litter box.”

When they finally quieted down they realized they’d killed the bottle of brandy and it was time to move on to scotch, or rye or bourbon…whatever the watcher had in stock. Fresh drinks poured, Spike became solemn again.

“So that’s it, mates!” Spike whispered. “That’s why I’m alone now. Comin’ on a century and a half and I never been alone before…not really…Always had someone to go with or someone to go to.” He continued, “Dru’s still out there, but there’s nothin’ there for me. Not even friends anymore. Just two vampires with some common memories. She’s mad as a hatter, worse ‘n ever… Once takin’ care of her was my raison d’être…No more. Couldn’t deal with that kind of insanity anymore. No…not anymore… Not since….”

“Of course, you’re talking about Buffy, I suppose, “ said Giles.

Spike considered Giles’ comment and looked at him long and hard, trying to decide what to say to the watcher. The old record player had stopped long ago and the silence in the room was ominous. “Buffy looked past the demon. She saw the man. I’ve been walking on this planet for generations, but she made me understand what life is.” He paused for a long time. When he finally spoke tears welled in his eyes, “I stayed with Dru for over 100 years. I worshiped her. She released me from the pinched, stuffy, pompous Victorian shell I existed in. As a vampire I could see colors I never knew. I could sense every scent in the universe. I was alive in a way that I’d never known…a way you’ll never know.” His voice slowly rose to a near roar, “I could hear the soddin’ grass grow.” …and then dropped to a whisper. “She let the poet in me be free. I never thought I could go on without her. I adored her.” Stopping once more to gain his composure as the tears streamed down his face, and he choked as he said, “But what I felt for Drucilla was nothing at all. It pales in comparison to how I love Buffy”.

Xander realized that the Buffy fixation was still on the vamps mind. This time was the first that he heard him use the word “love” aloud. Sure, this had been a nice reunion and all, and he was willing to put aside what had gone before, but it never occurred to him that Spike was still thinking about Buffy. His first instinct was to stand up and punch the vampire in the nose….he didn’t want to go through all that again and he wasn’t afraid to say so…but there was a bigger problem….his legs weren’t working …and his mouth was all fuzzy …and why were there two Spikes now?

Giles, being a more seasoned drinker than Xander was able to hold his alcohol better and listened to Spike’s comment and slowly nodded his head as he kept repeating, “Yes….yes,” as his glass tipped and fell from his hand when he passed into oblivion.

~~~

Xander couldn’t close his mouth. His tongue was so dry it was hard, sticking half out of the gaping orifice. He tried to swallow.

Nope. ‘s not gonna happen.

He went to move his right arm and realized it was completely numb. He opened his eye (a feat in itself) to look at it and his fingers were purple.

Oh God! I’m dead, he thought. No….wait…that can’t be true, I opened my eye.

OK. …he was relieved…I’m not dead.

He moved his left hand over to see if he could feel the fingers of his right hand. They were ice cold….and he looked again….and they were still purple.

This isn’t good. Shape up, Harris, he said to himself. I don’t think I can, he heard himself answer in his head.

He heard a sound…an awful sound…a familiar sound….the sound of retching.

Good, he thought. I can hear, and it’s not me doing the retching. Get a grip, Alexander. Think. Think hard. Where are you? …Dunno…..OK….OK…..What’s the question again? Right…where am I? ‘s a good question. Think…..Right…..Hard….I’m on a hard place….Cold…..I’m cold…..Aaagh! I’m dead! I just know it. I’m dead….

Stop it! You’re not dead..

He closed his mouth around his dried out tongue and tried to make some spit to soften the cotton ball that someone had put into it. It was work. It was hard work. Once he got his mouth working he lifted his head to look around. His head was a lot heavier than the eight pounds the kid with the glasses in Jerry McGuire said..

The fog was lifting….slowly….and painfully, he was becoming aware. The full weight of his body was on his right arm….no circulation….blue…then purple. Aaaagh! I might lose my arm…..no circulation….it’ll fall right off like a skin tag with a string around it!

Roll over, dumb ass, he internalized. He did. His head hit the little tea table. Ow! Aaah…hah! I’m on the floor.

Just as the little ice pick tingles were starting to crawl up his arm as the blood tried to get back to his fingers he noticed a gray form shuffling in the periphery of his clouded vision. He turned his head toward it. OW! And ow! Again! That hurt!

It was Giles. Ewwww. He’s all gray. What the hell happened to us? Wake up! You dolt! …. …. ….

Spike….. …. ….

Spike happened to us.

There, on the couch, right next to him, lay Spike, looking all corpsy. Colorless. Still. At least he doesn’t have his arms crossed over his chest like they do in the Vampire movies. Humph! Not Spike. HE has his hands resting protectively over his “bits.”

“Giles? You OK?” squeaked Xander.

“OH?…Xander. You’re still here,” said Giles. “Um, …. Yes….Why do you ask?”

“Except that you’re moving, you look just as dead as Captain Peroxide here.”

“Quite.” Giles answered as another wave of nausea passed over him. “I think something disagreed with me…perhaps a bit of a bug.”

“Yeah…right. The bug that was preserved in the bottom of the bottles we polished off,”
said Xander. He kept his movements to a minimum and was amazed that Giles was actually up and about. He heard him run the water and light the stove. Evidently English Breakfast Tea was a certain cure-all…at least he hoped it was because he was frankly in need of a cure.

He allowed his mind to wander. He wasn’t going anywhere…not for a good long while. He now knew that…1. He wasn’t dead. A good thing…maybe. 2. He was on the floor next to Giles’ couch. 3. He was cold. 4. His arm hadn’t fallen off…yet and …. What was the next number? … Who cares? And he knew one more thing…. Good Xander… don’t need numbers…he knew that last night had been a wild ride.

~~~

“Come on, come on Dawnie…I’m under a little pressure here….Pick. Up. The. Phone,” impatient Buffy said as she rushed around her room making final checks on her luggage. She was only packing essentials…three bags. If she was going to stay longer than a couple of days she would just have to call and ask Willow to send over the rest. That’s what friends were for, right?

After seven rings Buffy heard Dawn’s voice, “Dawn, I’m call…” Buffy stopped when she heard Dawn’s voice droning on to leave a message at the beep. Instead she said, “Damn!” and threw the cell phone on the bed. She had broken too many things by pitching them in anger and she didn’t have time to buy a new phone. Her cab would be here any minute.

OK, OK, Buffy, calm down, she thought. This is OK. You have plenty of time to call Dawn, just get yourself downstairs to meet your cab.

Fifteen minutes later she was still sitting on her luggage waiting for the cab. Dawn star sixty-nined her and Buffy gave her the flight numbers and times. She was going to have a 6-hour hold over at JFK and once she was through customs she would have plenty of time for another call.

Waiting in airports was not Buffy’s favorite thing. Waiting anywhere was so not something she did well. In truth, there was only one thing Buffy did well and that was beat up and then kill demons and vamps. There wasn’t too much of that happening in this so called active Hellmouth in Cleveland …maybe the Sunnydale implosion had caused the First and all the other assorted nasties to think twice about taking on this Slayer and her minions. “Heheheh,” she giggled. Wouldn’t Giles and the Scoobies just love to hear I was thinking of them as minions?

~~~

In this pleasant mood, after her only slightly bumpy flight from Cleveland, Buffy walked around JFK and checked out the shops and food vendors. Waiting in one of the biggest international airports in the world however was not without it’s perks. She planned to eat before getting on the plane, but with so much variety available, she thought a tour of the place to find what suited her mood best was a good plan. The time went quicker than she thought when she realized as she finished her Chinese food in a neat little sit down restaurant called Chow Now that she still had to speak to Dawn before the flight. She tried her again. After three rings, Dawn came on, “Hi, this is Dawn!”

“Hi back! This is Buffy!” she laughed.

“Hey there, you. You almost missed me. I was just about to jump into the shower. How’s the airport.”

“Big…really, really big.” Buffy said, “But I’ve been here long enough now and I’ve got it figured out. Checked my bags already so all I’ve got weighing me down is my carry-on and the magazines I picked up. I’m gonna try to sleep on the flight, but I don’t have much hope for that one.”

“Yeah,” Dawn replied, “I’ve only flown a couple of times and ‘alert Dawnie’ was present and accounted for. Have you talked to Giles?”

“Nope. Keep getting his voice mail or his secretary. I’ve left messages. I think the secretary is getting annoyed at me. She had a veddy firm British accent when she told me that he said he would contact me as soon as he was able. So there will be no more calling from me.”

“Oh, well, he left a message on my cell and said to tell you that he’d lost your cell number and I should tell you that he would have a car meet you at Heathrow. Your flight is due in at ten minutes to eleven in the morning and he left instructions for the driver to be there at half ten.” She laughed, “That means ten-thirty.”

“Gee thanks, Dawn, I didn’t know that,” Buffy said dripping with sarcasm.

“Duh!” Dawn said, her voice rising, “….God, are you in a bitchy mood, or what?”

“No, no bitchy me. Just nervous about flying me, I guess. Flying…in the dark…over the ocean…all night… Nope…. Give me a half dozen fledglings surrounding me smelling all dead and earthy and wanting my blood and me with no back up. That I can handle. Night flying?…not so much.”

“You’ll be fine, Buff and you haven’t been to this part of England before, so that’s all good. Right?”

“Right! Feeling the sisterly cheerfulness and support right over the phone. I’ll be fine, Dawn. Just a momentary lapse of courage….It’s getting to the time I should head over to my gate. I still have about a half-hour before boarding time, but it’ll give me a couple of minutes to check out the ladies room and change to my comfy shoes. I’ll call you when I get to the school. It should be about three in the afternoon provided I don’t get strip searched in customs.”

“Ooh, I hope the customs official is cute, for your sake. All right Buffy, have a good trip and promise you’ll call when you get there.”

“I promise, little sister. I love you.” Buffy said, preparing to hang up.

“I love you. Bye!” said Dawn.
~~~
Giles held the phone away from his ear. Mrs. Reed had a loud voice. “Ah, yes, Adele…good morning…..Oh….is it really? I had no idea it was nearly noon. My guest and I have been so busy going over some business matters I’m afraid we lost track of the time…Oh? Oh dear. I hope they were not terribly upset. Had they traveled far?… Oh good. I trust you turned them over to one of the brighter girls for a tour and a complimentary lunch in the dining hall?… I can always count on you. …Well…. Actually I need to ask that you cancel my afternoon appointments. I will not be in at all today. …What is that?… Oh dear. Did you arrange for a driver?… Good…and a room in the dorm? Good…..No, wait….change that….Put her in The Harborage…and make sure it’s freshened and supplied with some staples. Thank you so much Mrs. Reed…. Yes. I will be in tomorrow morning. Ta.” And then quickly before she hung up, “Adele…oh good! One more thing…. Kennedy Kane?… Yes…? Yes. As I expected. Thank you again. Goodbye.”

“Got somebody’s mommy mad at you Rupes?” asked Spike.

“Could have, I suppose. Mrs. Reed is very competent and handles slip-ups like this with such grace. The parents leave feeling so pampered they don’t even know I blew them off.” Giles snickered. It had been a very long time since he had had such a reckless night as last night and he was almost enjoying the remnants of his hangover. He would never admit it, that’s certain, but it reminded him that it felt good to misbehave every now and then.

Spike raised his eyes over his cuppa and smiled as he savored his tea. Giles saw the look and felt as though Spike was reading his thoughts. Now that was unsettling.

Xander was not faring so well. He’d gone from numb to nausea and now was sleeping in Giles bed with his arm wrapped around a large bowl lest he need to empty himself yet again. The last two episodes had only produced dry heaves. He was asking to die.

“So, what’s it to be then Giles? We stuck here until the whelp heals?” queried Spike.

“No, I think we’ll leave him in peace and go on with your tour. We’ll head over to my office first. I have one matter to attend to. Actually, you will want to know.” Giles said.

“I’ll want to know?” Spike asked incredulously.

“Yes, it’s about Kennedy.” He replied.

“Can’t think of anything about her bein’ interestin’ to me. Didn’t like her then. Don’t like her now.”

“Well, this might be of interest. She’s been a thorn in the side of the program from the start. She and I have had words more than once. She has no respect for authority and evidently is unaccustomed to rules of any kind. She made many attempts to undermine my authority with the girls and generally made my life miserable. However, even with all that evidence, I believe the girl has talent and has just been misled so I made exceptions.”

“Sorta like Faith, then?” said Spike.

“What?” said Giles with utter surprise on his face, “No, nothing at all like Faith. Faith had a horrible upbringing but she was a survivor. She went over the edge because of low self-esteem. She was told from her earliest memories that she was no good and a burden on her alcoholic mother. No… fixing Faith was easy compared to finding a fix for Kennedy. That young woman has a superiority complex unlike any I have ever seen. It is my feeling that the very fact that she has placed herself in the hands of the program suggests that on some level she understands she needs a strong hand to guide her. I hoped that I could provide that help here. It is apparent that I have failed.”

Spike saw that this was troubling the watcher and talking about it, even to him, was constructive. “Turnin’ her loose then?” he said.

“No, quite the contrary. I have a member of the council in Cape Town, South Africa who has been writing me about an alarming increase in the vampire and demon population there. He has been asking for some additional staff. I am afraid I haven’t had anyone to send him.” Giles paused as he sipped his tea and then continued, “After Kennedy’s outburst yesterday, I realized I could no longer allow her behavior to go unchallenged. I gave her an ultimatum. I offered her a position in South Africa with this fellow or to pack her bags and be gone!”

“Humph, whoever said your stones had shriveled all up was wrong, eh?”.

“You have no idea, Spike. This girl is willful. I only hoped that she would accept the offer. I must say I feared she would not. It would have been a dark day for me if I turned her loose on an unsuspecting society with no checks or balances. This way at least, she is still somewhat under our control.”

“You’re daft if you really believe that Rupert. You’re forgettin’ I know that girl. If you’re not very careful she’ll go over all dark. She’s a lot smarter than Faith ever thought of bein’. She could be real trouble.” Spike finished, and then after a moment continued, “Oi, you want me to go there and ride herd on her?”

Giles was stunned.

“I got nothin’ else on my plate just now.” He hung his head as he spoke, “I came here to tell you about Angel and what all with no other plans besides. I need somethin’ to do Rupert. I told you. I’m alone…” he finished, letting that phrase just hang in the air.

Giles was touched. He had no intention of taking Spike up on the offer, but to dismiss the idea entirely would be an insult. The vampire had come to him a day ago (it seemed like a lifetime) and bared his soul to him. He would give him the courtesy of letting him think he was considering the offer.

“Well, that is a surprise. Do you really think you might consider doing something like this? I mean it’s Kennedy, after all.” Giles said.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ live forever, watcher, I need somethin’ to do with my time.” Spike replied.

“Well then, thank you, Spike. Let me give the matter some thought.” He took the cups from the table and rinsed them in the sink and put them in the drain. “Now though, let’s get on with the tour of the school.”

“Right! I’ll just leave a note for the Watcheroo.” Spike took up a pen and paper and wrote in his most careful and elegant handwriting…

Went to the school- - left you to drown in your own spew,
Regards,

At the bottom of the paper he drew a railroad spike as a signature.

~~~

Giles and Spike met Xander at the Dining Hall for dinner toward the end of the dinner hour. The students were finished and went on to their evening activities leaving Spike to enjoy a conversation with the two watchers without pubescent young ladies staring at his zipper and accidentally brushing their developing breasts against him. Spike usually welcomed the attention of women and certainly was no stranger to it, but these girls took it way over the top. When one of them spilled a glass of ice water down the front of her tee shirt, the three men agreed it was not a mistake.

They actually discussed the phenomenon over dinner. They suspected that along with the slayer powers the girls developed perhaps they were also gifted with an extra boost of hormones. Spike smiled at memories of a certain slayer and her ….um…appetite.

Xander was explaining that after dinner the girls had a little over an hour of free time during which they were encouraged to do whatever pleased them and it was encouraged that it be something utterly mindless. The rest of their time was consumed with training, classes, and study. In the short time that they were in operation, they learned that with these girls, any idle time led to trouble. These girls were bursting with strength and enhanced senses. Too often all that energy turned toward each other in negative ways. Anyone who knew anything about teen-age girls knew that catty behavior, possibly inherent to the female of any species was honed during the teen years…multiply that many times and you have a apt description of young slayers.

Giles took over explaining that the girls were using this time to call home, read girly magazines and paint their toenails. From seven until nine they would be busy Team Training, one on one sparring with the Slayer in Residence supervising. It was a good exercise. The girls defend themselves against one another and are encouraged to hold nothing back.

“Yeah, and there’s a brand new problem with that!” said Xander.

“And that problem would be?” asked Spike.

“No Slayer in Residence!” Giles added.

“Ahhh,” said Spike, nodding, “Kennedy…Slayer in Residence. Got it!”

Giles added, “They are not at all ready to go out on any sort of real patrol, although we do take them out in teams, one small group each evening, even weekends. They might as well learn due vigilance now. What they really need is to learn to defend themselves against unexpected moves. It’s very helpful and a good opportunity for the girls to blow off some of that steam that builds up. Every night they rotate to a different partner and the Slayer circles the room and watches each pair and suggests moves….both offensive and defensive.”

“So without a supervisor what sort of mischief will they be up to tonight then?” Spike asked.

Clearing his throat, Giles said, “Yes, well…um…Xander suggested….um, and I agreed that…a…”

“That I should be the Slayer in Residence Substitute? Right?”

“Well,…it would be…um…a good…opportunity for the girls, afterall.” Giles went on gaining courage in his request, “There doesn’t happen to be a wealth of friendly vampires in the neighborhood, you know!”

“Oh! Fine! Why not just call me Casper?”

Giles voice raised to the same level as Spike, “Now, you know that’s going a bit far.”

“Why?” asked Xander, “I like it!” and ducked from the feigned blow Spike was just about to deliver.

After what was a pleasant day learning about the school, Spike was disposed to be as helpful as he could. Besides, the last couple of days had been an emotional whirlwind and he felt like letting off a little steam himself. He laughed, “All right, all right, I’ll do it, but I’m NOT going to be the only bloke in the room with those girls,” he added quickly, “To be honest, I think my virtue might be at risk with the lot of then,” and then, “I do have one demand though.”

‘Uh oh, here it comes, Giles, watch out.” Xander said. “He probably wants the school named after him or something.”

“What do you want Spike?” Giles said suspiciously.

“Nobody calls me Casper.”

Small talk filled the time as they completed the meal with tea and cake. Xander returned to his quarters and Giles took Spike to the cottage to freshen up a bit before the Training Class. It was a busy day and all three needed some time alone to gather their thoughts.

~~~

Interestin’ turn of events, this.

Cape Town….with Kennedy…bugger that….

Then again, it might be nice makin’ her life bloody miserable. The last time he saw Cape Town it was May 1914. There was a push on to get ready for the local unit’s involvement in WWI. His demon self remembered it fondly. All those fresh faced young men coming into town to enlist so that they could fight and die for God and country. With that, he and Dru had been more than happy to help out. That is, except for the ones that Drucilla had some sort of vision or whatever about….he remembered, he glanced at her and tears would be running down her face…a reminder that there was something of the innocent young girl still left. Then he thought about the young ladies that came to say goodbye to those young men…well…they were special too…in more than one way. He smiled his sly smile as he lathered his soapy hand over his now hard cock.

He was a sexual being. Just taking a shower was a sensuous entertainment, thinking about old times just added to the pleasure. He reached his hand down and wrapped it around his balls making the lather even thicker and bubbly in his dark curls…then reached further down to tickle his arse hole and then back up to stroke himself. The warmth of the water, the bubbles….it was a good thing. He repeated the motion and moaned mournfully as his thoughts began to wipe away the demon pleasure. Ever since the soul he got better at putting the demon down.

After those first few months of near insanity when he got his soul back he decided that he wasn’ goin’ to spend all his time mimicking Brood Boy. What happened before was done. There was nothin’ he could do to change it. No dwellin’ on those faces that washed across his conscious. No denyin’ ‘em either. He’d learnt to kind of embrace them, let their memories keep him from ever giving into the demon again. Worked most of the time. Every day was a struggle.

Every moment of every day she filled his senses. He looked at the events of the past couple of years since Sunnydale as the price he had to pay for loving her, knowing her …and he did know her…he knew every hair on her head, every shade of color in her eye. He knew the scent of her cheek was different than the scent of her neck, he knew how her muscles of her belly fluttered under his hand….the sweet smell of her arousal….he knew….

He hastened the speed of his lathered hand and finished himself off as tears mixed with shower water and spilled seed.

~~~

Had it really only been forty eight or so hours? Could so much happen in so short a time?

Two days ago the world was stable. Things were neatly tucked into place. Everything was running quite smoothly. The schools were succeeding and growing. The girls were adjusting well and the Scoobies that remained found purpose in their lives. There was money enough for all to have a comfortable living. He found a niche and was no longer under the thumb of the long out of date Council of Watchers.

His Slayer had changed the world.

He dearly wished that he could take some, no…he wished that he could take a good deal of the credit for the events that changed everything, but he knew too well that everything that was wrong with Buffy was what made this brave new world possible.

Slayers were alone. “She alone in all the world…” He remembered the phrase so well. His slayer was never alone. Well, except in the very beginning of her calling, before he was assigned to her. By the time he was involved, she decided that she was going to be a normal girl and despite all his efforts to convince her that it wasn’t possible, she kept trying. Were it not for her friends, the Scoobies, (he laughed at the name) she might not have had the strength to continue. It wasn’t so much that they saved her life (although they did AND brought her back to life) but that they gave her life tangible meaning. She wasn’t saving the world for a world of people she didn’t know. She saved the world for her friends; all the others were a bonus.

Slayers followed rules. Not his Slayer. Rules were to be broken…or at least rewritten.

Slayers did not make friends with vampires. Dear Lord, his slayer not only made friends with them, she slept with them…and she fell in love with them.

Which brought him to his current dilemma.

What am I to do?

What was it Buffy said? It didn’t matter. He knew the gist of it.

Spike ‘n’ Buffy 4EVA, but Spike had unwittingly given him an out.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Yesterday when he called Cleveland and left the message that Buffy was needed here in England; it all seemed so simple. Through some action of the gods, Spike was not as dusty as once thought and it was out of his hands. Not to allow the lovers to be reunited would be hateful.

He wanted so much more for his Buffy, but it was not to be. She herself would never allow another man, alive or dead into her heart. If Giles knew anything he knew that.

But wait….maybe it wasn’t such a dilemma afterall. Spike was back among the living for nearly two years and did not attempt to contact Buffy. Who am I to think I have the right to act against Spike’s wishes? Breathing a sigh of deep relief, he realized there was no problem after all. He would simply defer to Spike’s wishes.

He had to act fast though. He had to call immediately. What time is it? Damn! He was going to have to interrupt her at something. The call went through with no trouble at all except that no one answered. Then he called Dawn’s cell phone. She answered on the second ring.

Seeing the caller ID, a frightened Dawn answered. “What? Oh God, what’s happened?”

With sickening charm oozing, Giles said, “Hello Dawn, how are you, dear?”

“Giles! Giles? What’s happened? Oh God. Buffy’s plane went down, didn’t it?” He could hear the tears breaking her voice.

“What? Oh, she’s left then?” said Giles.

“Giles? It’s two o’clock here. You got me in-between classes. Why are you scaring me like this? What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry Dawn. I’d hoped I might prevent Buffy’s leaving. You see, the situation here has changed and her presence is no longer needed. I tried to reach her at her quarters but there was no answer. I’d hoped you would be able to tell me how I might reach her to tell her to cancel her flight.”

A very pissed off Dawn said, “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen movies where they get the government to cut into pilot’s radio or something. Why not do that Giles? Maybe they’ll turn the plane around just for you!”

“Ah, it seems I’ve angered you.”

“Duh!” Then silence.

“Yes! Well then. I’ll be sure to have Buffy call you when she arrives.”

Only silence, and then the line went dead. So… Perhaps it is in the hands of fate.

Giles called to Spike who had showered and was resting a bit on the couch and told him it was time to go to the gymnasium. He gathered his jacket and went to wait in the car.
~~~

Stepping out of the shower, Xander thought about how lucky he was that his head wasn’t
hurting anymore until he realized that was because everything else hurt so much. He thought a nice hot shower would loosen up his sore muscles, but apparently when your body lays in one position on a hard surface for hours in the cold it does some damage. Who knew? You learn something new everyday.

Another lesson? Hot showers don’t ALWAYS make you feel better. Another myth shot down. He thought maybe he should start writing this stuff down. Make a list. Post it on the Internet or something. People should be warned.

They should be warned about mixing three kinds of wine with brandy and gin too. For that, there should be a law. He smiled. He was surprised he could smile about it, but the evening at Giles’ had been…OK..

He let his mind wander free.

Never thought he’d say it, but the world felt different with Angel gone. He never liked him, but there was no denying that Angel had been a big part of his life. Life’s funny like that. Someone he hated so much being gone mattered more to him than….his parents, alive or dead. Oh yeah, that’s one of life’s little jokes for sure…and Wesley, he wasn’t anything to Xander at all, but he was sorry he was gone.

…and Spike’s still in love with Buffy…..

The dead man died and came back and died again and he’s still in love with Buffy. How much love is that? He stopped. Sat down and tried to think.

How much love is that? He tried to wrap his mind around it.

He found he couldn’t.
~~~

By the time they got to the gym the girls were already doing warm up exercises. They learned the hard way what kind of injuries occurred when you pushed cold muscles too hard too fast.

Giles interrupted them to find out how long they were warming up and re-introduced Spike to the gathering. He was in and out of all their classes and activities all day and they knew him….Oh, they knew him alright. He was downright wigged by the attention. Flattering an’ all, but it was a bit much.

The girls paired themselves and Spike nodded his head for them to begin their sparring.

He studied them for a few minutes, watched as they telegraphed punches and when he had enough Spike hollered, “Oi! You lot lookin’ to get yourselves killed?”

The girls were stunned. Giles bristled. He was insulted. He oversaw the lesson plans for their training himself. He did well with Buffy afterall. What on earth was Spike going on about?

It turns out that Spike is a natural born teacher. Oxford trained, very well read and informed plus he has several life times experience that he brings to his charges. Another of his gifts is his capacity to stay young. Now that may seem an overly obvious point, but deserves some consideration. True, he is forever young, thanks to his condition in life, but more to the point, he is young at heart, almost childlike sometimes. He is very sensitive to young people. He never speaks down to them. They trust him, (now there’s a scary thought) in a way they never trust adults. The ultimate irony, of course, is that everyone walking this earth are children and children’s children to him.

Spike asked the girls to sit for a moment. After grabbing a chair and turning it back to front, he took the seat and glanced into each girl’s face. For a moment it was looking like he was using thrall. He insisted that it wasn’t in his repertoire, but one never knows.

He began by telling them that just observing their moves for a short time, he was impressed with their strength and skills. He saw some things that needed some work, but his concern tonight was that the girls make no attempt to use the other gifts they were given, some along with the recent changes they experienced, but also those that were part of their human existence.

He asked them to be still. Very still. He glanced around to Giles and Xander and asked them to be still as well. They did as they were bid. The room was silent.

After a few moments there was movement and shuffling as the girls adjusted themselves in place. Again, Spike asked them to be still. The room returned to silence, this time a few more minutes went by before the rustling began.

Finally, Spike once more asked for stillness.

This time, the room went absolutely still.

Spike spoke just above a whisper, “Tell me what you hear.”

A voice came from the back of the room. “I don’t know…. Nuthin.’” Followed by tittering laughter.

Spike did not laugh, only said, in that velvet patient voice, “Tell me what you hear.”

Voices came one by one using the same hushed tone as Spike.

“The clock ticking.”

“I hear my heart.”

“The breeze blowing outside, and leaves rustling.”

“Peepers?”

“I hear everyone breathing…someone’s a little congested.” One of the girls said in sing-song. More giggling.

“I heard the bell ring in town…God, that’s three miles away.” Ooohs and aaahs.

“I hear Mrs. Clifton’s dog barking.” Their voices began to speak over one another and he heard their excitement growing.

“Right then, now you’re getting it.” Spike purred.

Giles was smiling. Xander, as usual, looked confused.

“What else then? I think you can tell me more.” Once again the room fell silent.

After a bit came the first tentative, “I smell things….but that’s no big deal is it?”

“Oh, it’s a big deal all right. What do you smell?”

The small girl, she looked to be one of the younger ones, said, “Perfume. I smell the perfume the other girls use.”

“Good,” He stood and walked to her and squatted in front of her and spoke directly in her face, “Tell me more.”

She concentrated, feeling a little embarrassed at having been singled out. Then she sat up straight at looked right at Spike and smiled, “I smell…lavender. Rita wears that. …And I smell Windsong; that’s Sherry’s perfume. And I smell Obsession…she lowered her eyes…you’re wearing Obsession.” The girls laughed.

Spike stood. “So, what’d you learn so far?” Hands shot up. He was overwhelmed. This kind of classroom exercise was lost somewhere in his Victorian history. It was easier when they just called out answers. “OK.” He pointed to one girl with bright red curly hair pulled back so it was a big red puffy ball at the back of her neck.

“I learned that there’s a lot going on around me that I don’t pay attention to.”

“Give the little lady a cookie! That’s exactly the right answer. You lot have been concentratin’ real hard on learnin’ how to fight. Looks to me like you’ve got that bit figured out, but fightin’ and winnin’ takes a bit more than punching and martial arts.”

He walked around the room. “It’s knowin’ your enemy. Mr. Giles probably already talked to you about research. Ya gotta know what you’re fightin’, what it’s wants. What’s it fightin’ for?….A newly risen fledge is the dumbest rock on the planet. It knows nothin’ but it wants to feed. Preferably on you.” He paused, as the girls tittered nervously at his last remark, “But a ratnarthk demon may be a mother protectin’ its eggs. These two would fight different now, wouldn’t they?…Now I’m not sayin’ you shouldn’t kill the ratnarthk because it’s a mother…or a father…both sexes can reproduce in their species….I’m sayin’ that a fledge is just dumb and will go at you all fists and fangs, no thinkin.

“That ratnarkh, on the other hand is fightin’ for a reason, it’s protecting it’s progeny. It’ll go careful like and watch you and study to consider the best way to keep you from killin’ the babies or itself…. it knows the babies need Mom or Dad when they hatch.

“That demon knows you’re warm blooded and young. It can smell you. It sees your pretty pink fingernails and knows you’re no warrior. It sees your skin all fresh and soft and vulnerable with no horns or scales, wings or armor. It probably heard you talking on patrol and knows your voice is a little squeak with no roar or growl It watched you move barely displacing the leaves on the ground….and it tastes your fear on the wind.”

The lesson continued, “What do you know, given the scene I just laid out to you?”

Around the room heads lowered and silence prevailed.

“Yes,….um…well, Spike. Well done”. Giles said. “You’ve given the girls a lot to think about.”

In his best stage whisper, Xander offered, “Ya scared the livin’ shit out of ‘em.”

To which Giles quickly said sotto voce, “That’ll be enough Xander.” Then he continued, “So then, ladies, pair up again and begin your sparring while letting your senses tell you all they can about your opponent. Let’s see how it goes.”

Remarkably, there was a noticeable difference in how the girls went about their task. They were considering one another’s faces and expressions, their stance, their breathing. They noted whether or not they were sweating, whether they were silent or chatty.

All those things taken into account each combatant approached the exercise with greater attention. They found they were less able to land blows. Just one lesson and they were fine-tuning themselves to all around them. All they needed now was to take that lesson with them whenever and wherever they went. Their lives will be richer and maybe longer for it.

There you go little Slayers, Spike thought, a life lesson from a vampire.

They continued for one half hour more when Giles blew his whistle to end the class. The exhilarated girls gathered their towels wiping sweaty faces calling goodnight, asking if Spike was going to be their trainer all the time and offering particular thanks to Spike. Spike feigned humility, muttering, “No problem, S’my pleasure, and Think nothin’ of it.” All the while secretly reveling in the moment….while Xander wallowed in self pity and Giles dreamed of possibilities.
~~~

They waited outside while the guard secured the building. Spike lit up even before the door closed behind them. The night breeze was cool and fresh and carried the threat of longer, darker, colder nights to come as autumn turned to winter.

To all but a vampire’s ears it was quiet as a church at midnight.

“All locked up sir,” said the guard. Giles didn’t know his name. Just one of a half dozen hired for each shift. The property was very large and the girls were housed in several buildings.
They were in and out of their quarters throughout the day as they maintained several different schedules. This was their home now and Giles felt it very important to insure their safety until they could take care of themselves. The rest of their lives would be spent in protecting others. This small respite before they took on their life duty was a small gift he was happy to give.

Giles offered thanks and signaled to Spike and Xander to load up into the car when the officer called out in a thick North country accent, “Oh, sir, one more thing. MacGregor said you should have a word with him before you went home this evenin’.”

“Thank you.” Then after a pause, “I’m sorry, who is MacGregor?”

The guard went to speak and Xander cut him off, “He’s the guy who’s filling in for Binny.”

“Binny’s away then, is he?” Giles asked.

“Guess so!” said Xander. “I ran into this MacGregor fellow earlier. Said he was a temp. Didn’t even know you English used that term. It sounded funny. Come to think of it, he wasn’t English. He was Scotch…at least he had that kind of accent.”

“Really, isn’t that unusual? I’d remember a Scot. While I don’t recall all their names or shifts, I have made a point of meeting all of the guards and substitutes. I would not like the nature of our school becoming public knowledge and I need to make sure these men are the sort who would be duty bound to secrecy…and I like to be up front about the possibility of some element of danger. I can’t imagine Mrs. Reed would approve him on her own…..This is a puzzle. I don’t like it.”

“Smell a rat, Rupes?” said a delighted Spike sniffing for an adventure.

“I’m afraid that may be so. Of course your visit has broken up the routine around here. There may be a perfectly logical explanation. If you don’t mind, we’ll just stop by Masterson and see this MacGregor.” They loaded themselves into the small car for the short drive.

Spike asked, “Where’s this Masterson we’re headed to?”

Giles answered as he shifted gears, “Masterson Hall. Oh…sorry, I guess I didn’t tell you the names. It’s the main building, the administration building where my office is. Buffy named it. Insisted, in fact, said it sounded important. If it weren’t for Buffy…and you I suppose….none of this would have ever come about so I deferred to her wish. Why not? Lots of important Mastersons in our history. I expect she read the name in a book, or saw it in a movie. Guess I should be happy she didn’t want to name it Hornblower.”

Xander laughed. “Hornblower Hall. Oh yeah, lots of credibility there.”

Giles continued, “You jest. Pardon me, but he is a favorite literary hero. We could do worse. Of course, we went the easy route with the rest of the buildings.”

“Right,” Spike noted, “named ‘em after soddin’ royalty. I got it, Rupes.” He glanced at Xander and grinned, “Looks like the game’s afoot, Watson?”

“I was going to suggest we stop by the local pub for a pint anyway, who’s Watson?”

Spike and Giles rolled their eyes, “Never mind. The pub, eh? They got a pool table?” Spike was almost cheerful. He saw an opportunity for a little evil sans carnage. It made his demon happy.

“No pool table, but they have a dart board.” Xander smiled. “I’ll take you on. I’ve gotten pretty good since I’ve been here.”

“Spend a lot of time at the pub, now, do you? Watcher know? He might not approve, y’now.”

“He approves. We go together.”

“Ah!” said Spike. “You think you’re settin’ me up, then?”

“Could be,” grinned Xander.

“So, wot?….. You been practicin’ for 6 months, maybe a year? How d’ya think that’ll hold up against a century? Don’t wanna scare ya or nothin’….just make sure you have pen and pad to write out your I.O.U.s.

~~~
As they pulled up in front of Masterson Hall, Giles said, “If you two will wait here please, I’ll only be a moment.” He felt uneasy about this new guard and wasn’t able to concentrate on the conversation between Spike and Xander. Spike’s visit was leading to one conundrum after another. Once the hiring was done and all departments were in place and functioning, apart from quarterly reviews he paid no attention to how things went, unless, of course, there were problems. Now he was feeling as though he had been remiss in his duties. Damn vampire, he thought. Is he destined to forever be a thorn in my side? I don’t like being reminded of my shortcomings by my sworn enemy. As he made his way to the lobby he reconsidered the plans for protecting the school.

In creating the Academy, Giles and the Council spent endless hours coming up with a plan that would ensure secrecy regarding the true nature of the school and providing protection to all the staff and students. All the teachers hired, even those teaching only academic courses were connected to the former Council in some fashion…former field watchers, family members of watchers and family members of the Council’s ancillary staff…all of whom had been sworn by blood oath to secrecy under pain of mystical retaliation since the origin of the Council itself. The tales of the very few who had violated the oath were legendary, but those are stories for another time.

The teaching staff and students were responsible for the cleanliness of each classroom since the only time they would be unlocked would be when they were in use therefore eliminating any casual exposure via the housekeeping staff. The classrooms appeared completely innocuous. In the event that a lay person were to enter a classroom during class there was nothing visible to the naked eye that might indicate they were used for anything other than reading, writing and ‘rithmatic. Intricate and overlaying glamours were created by wicca from many different covens to conceal the sacred circles set into the patterns on the floor and the pull-downs of important symbols as well as the posters of significant demons so that even if someone were able to see past one, they would never be able to penetrate the woven layers. According to Willow, if one layer should fail another was there. These shifts could conceivably cause some momentary disorientation or perhaps some fleeting dizziness. Nothing serious. The person might think it was a trick of the eye or something. No worries.

The guards did not have keys to the classrooms. Their duties demanded that they walk every floor of every building and check the locks on each door. If they were to find one unlocked there was a keypad to the right of the door and a code particular to that door only to be entered to set the lock. They were instructed that if they entered the code incorrectly (implying that they might try to gain entry) they would encounter an electrical charge that would stun them and leave them unconscious. They were advised that they could contact Mr. Giles or his second (a list was posted) any time if they found a door unlocked and they didn’t want to risk electrocution. So far none of the teachers left a door unlocked so the system’s only test had been during installation.

The building was quiet…church quiet. Giles footsteps as he climbed up the few steps to the lobby echoed around him. They had taken so many precautions, worked and reworked the plans for the protection of the girls and the Council, there should be nothing to worry about. So why was he so worried?
~~~

There was no one at the desk. Giles checked his watch; it was 7:15. The next rounds would normally start at eight, which meant that the guard should be here at the main desk. Careful planning had gone into the security guards scheduled rounds. They were designed so that even though one had to leave his post for a period of time, each of the other guards would pass all the other empty posts in a kind of Olympic circle pattern leaving no post uncovered for more than 5-7 minutes. No one at the desk at 7:15 was an ominous sign.

While Giles pondered the problem he heard footsteps on the stairs. “Canna help you, sir?”
So… this must be the Scottish guard. He was followed shortly by all the ladies from the secretarial pool, their high heels click-clacking on the marble stairs, Mrs. Reed among them. “Good evening, Mr. Giles,” she called in her cheeriest voice. We are just finishing our monthly staff meeting. I didn’t expect to see you here at this hour.”

”Yes, good evening to you as well, Mrs. Reed, ladies… I didn’t expect to be here. I received a message that MacGregor wanted to see me. Do you know MacGregor?” He asked this hoping that she would offer some explanation as to how a security officer had been hired without his knowledge and knowing that the fellow who just greeted him was likely the very same gentleman.

“I know a MacGregor family in the village sir, but I don’t believe any MacGregor has been hired here. As you know, I do payroll and there is no MacGregor on staff of which I am aware.”

“As I suspected. Do we hire ‘temps?’”

“Oh, no sir!” She answered emphatically. “I am very aware of your feelings about being familiar with all staff. Is there a problem?”

“Perhaps, Mrs. Reed, but nothing for you to concern yourself with this evening. Your meeting went well, I trust?” Giles asked more as a means of ending the conversation than interest.

“Quite well, actually. We’ve formed a hospitality committee to make sure we don’t overlook birthdays and special events among the staff. We’ll collect dues for the kitty and….”

“Yes, Mrs. Reed, that sounds wonderful,” he said interrupting, “You’ll see that I get the minutes of your meeting?”

“Of course,” she answered, slightly offended at his brusque manner.

“Well then, I’ll read them through and if I have any questions you can fill me in. How’s that?”
He said, aiming for a courteous but dismissive tone. Judging by the expression on his secretary’s face, it was just dismissive.

Abruptly, she said, “Goodnight Mr. Giles,” turned on her heel, gathered her coworkers and left the building herding them to their cars.

Giles turned to talk to the man calling himself MacGregor and found he was alone.
~~~

Spike and Xander watched the little parade of clerical help as they boarded their cars and left the parking lot. They offered confused glances to each other. They were expecting Giles to be meeting a guard there, not the Watcher’s Council’s Quilting Bee. Without a word they got out of the car to find Giles.

Giles was looking over the security desk as Spike and Xander entered the building. Xander said, “Hey Rupert, the Watcher, what’s goin’ on?”

Spike followed him in, glancing around for abnormalities. His vampire senses were bristling and he just needed to hone in on the aberrancy.

Giles scowled at the overly personal, possibly disrespectful title and glanced around to make sure none of the secretaries heard Xander, “I’m looking for that fellow MacGregor.”

“And you think you’re gonna find ‘im in the desk drawer?” commented Spike still scanning the room.

Giles heaved a deep annoyed sigh and said, “My secretary wasn’t aware of any temporary guards.” Distracted, Giles continued with his train of thought, “I suppose he might have left on rounds, but why would he do that if he left a message that he wanted to speak to me? Looks like this MacGregor may be an imposter. Just what his motives are and how dangerous he may be, I have no idea. I thought perhaps I might find some clue here at the security desk where at least Xander had seen him.”

“Hey, you should have a little conflab with the guard who just locked up the gymnasium. He knew who he was ‘cause he gave you the message.” Xander said.

“Yes, Xander, thank you, I thought of that too. You didn’t catch his name did you?”

“Um no,” …..casting eyes downward, “sorry.”

“Sorry gents, looks like this is one of those times you’ll be grateful for my special skills. I can track this fellow. No need to say thanks. You blokes wait here and I’ll bring ‘im round..” Spike said as he took off out of the building.

Once again, it looked like Spike held the trump card. The lobby was quiet as they fell into private thoughts. They both wanted desperately to hate him and were finding it increasingly difficult. They would never know how remarkably similar they thoughts were.

~~~

Malcolm MacGregor was ashamed of himself in a way he never was in his entire existence.
Why in the name of all things did he choose to run away? Hadn’t he left a message that he wanted to see the Headmaster? Now what was he to do? Think man! He commanded himself. There’s got to be a way to fix this.

All right. I’m smart, I’m agile, I’m strong, I’m educated, I’m experienced…all important qualities…the sort of person any headmaster would want to hire at his school….right?

Right. I can just imagine the interview. An impressive resume. Oh, yes I have my Ph.D. I earned it forty years ago. Yes I do look young. My family ages well. Just how old am I? You’re not allowed to ask that, are you? Isn’t that discrimination? You think I’m 75?Well, you’re close. …. Didn’t I mention I’m a vampire? Immortal you know, that’s a good thing in an employee…longevity and all that. Uh huh, this is a girl’s school. Wouldn’t do to have a vampire work here. Yes, I understand.

I will not become like the vampires I studied all these years. I will not live in a graveyard or a hole in the ground. I never was in a hole in the ground, I’m not about to start now. So much for that tradition.

He clicked on his walky-talky and paged Enfield to tell him to get to the Main Hall and tell the Headmaster he would be right there. That way it would look like he just went on his rounds and missed him. Of course that was bollocks. As the guard in Masterson Hall it was his duty to inquire as to who the man was entering the building before leaving on rounds. Hopefully that little detail would escape the Headmaster’s observation.

~~~

He walked through the woods, over sticks and leaves dry from days without rain without making a sound, no creature able to sense his coming… if it weren’t for his incessant talking. “Lookie here! A cemetery.” Spike said. “Watcher didn’t include this on his grand tour. Makes sense though. Should o’ thought of it m’self. This place goes way back…all the way back to the soddin’ Romans. Bound to be lotsa burial grounds through the centuries.” Spike stalked along talking to himself, letting the scents of the night fill his senses, “Bloody stupid wankers didn’t used to think of preservin’ history back in the day. Just tore down the old to put up the new. Fools. ….. Ha! I’d o’ been one of them m’self if I hadn’t been walkin’ the earth all these years. ’ello! What do I spy with my little eye?” He smiled as he came upon what once upon a time would have made a tasty meal, but now was only the very prey he was hunting.

The hapless guard was strolling along the path on his way to the next stop on his rounds totally unaware of the danger stalking him. Spike’s demon was reveling in the hunt. It didn’t know it wasn’t for real. Spike knew it would be seriously pissed when he didn’t go for the kill. “Ah well, doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun!” he said aloud as he shook away his human face and sped after the man.

The earth shook as the roar stopped the man dead in his tracks. Fortunately for Spike, in this case, dead is a relative term. It would not do for him to be killing the guards, even if he’d just scared him to death. The man just passed out cold and ….pissed himself as well. “Oh, ain’t that embarrassing for you, mate?” He said as his demon face receded, “Fine guard you are! Wonder if you’re one of the guards Giles hired personally.” He picked up the fellow, threw him over his shoulder, and made his way back to the Hall where the others waited. “Lucky you are I’m in a decent mood….I usually just drag my kills back to my lair.” He snickered as he heard the man stir.

~~~

There they sat…the Grand Poo-bah Watcher and the Watcher Wannabe waiting for the vamp to bring back a clue. What a bloody fuckin’ irony, that, thought Spike as he laid down his capture on the desk ...nicely…di’n’t need any comments about not treatin’ him kind.

“Great! You killed him.” Xander noted flatly.

“Did not! He just passed out…he’ll be comin’ round in a minute.”

“Where did you find him Spike?” Giles asked.

“Leaving the cemetery you never showed me on our tour, Mr. Giles.”

“There is no cemetery on the grounds, Spike. You must be mistaken.”

“Beg to differ there, Rupes….I think I recognize a cemetery when I see one.”

Giles smug reply, “Yessss, of course, Spike, but I think you may have stepped beyond the estate’s boundary. There is a cemetery on adjacent land. The entire property was surveyed when it was willed to the Council and it was determined that it was not ours. Too bad really, we thought it had been the estate’s private burial ground.” Giles noticed the man stirring, “Oh, here, let me help you. Xander get the fellow a drink of water, would you?”

Xander bowed as an imaginary hump appeared on his shoulder and exited the room backward, saying “As you wish, master,” in his best imitation of Boris Karloff and then remembered his tour of duty as Dracula’s butt-monkey and said, “Nevermind.”

The fellow glanced about warily, clearly shaken, “Some beast or other in the woods, scared me right out of my mind.” His eyes were wide with confusion. “Here, how’d I get here?”

Giles turned a scornful eye at Spike who turned away and said,“I was out taking my evenin’ constitutional and heard something in the woods. Next thing I know, there you are face first in the dirt. Good thing I got there, mate. No tellin’ what’s lurkin’ about out there. Right? Mr. Giles.”

An annoyed Giles answered, “Quite….Now, sir, do you recall seeing us at the gymnasium a short while ago?”

“Yessir, I do.” The man gave every indication that he was anxious to be of help, almost overly so.

“Good. You told me that Mr. MacGregor wanted to speak to me. Is that right?”

The man looked frightened like he was afraid he might say the wrong thing. After a moment, he finally answered, “That was the message I got, sir.”

Giles looked puzzled, “...the message you got? You didn’t speak to him?”

“No sir, never saw the man m’self, just a note left at my post to pass that information on to you when I saw you.” He should have been calming under this benign interrogation, but instead he seemed more agitated as the moments wore on. “Do you need me anymore, sir? I’ve got my rounds to finish.” He made to move off the desk and be on his way.

Spike stood in the corner of the lobby reached for his cigarettes and lighter and watched the encounter. There was something off with this fellow, he was sure. After taking a deep drag, he leaned back against the wall and cupped his hand over the end of the cigarette as he held it at his side.

Giles told the guard that he could take his leave and asked to be reminded of his name in case he thought of any other questions. The guard put his cap back on his head and backed out the door answering, “Enfield, sir. Charles Enfield’s m’name,” pronounced with the accent on En.

For a vampire that did not need to breathe, he did an excellent impression of a man choking on smoke at his answer. Still sputtering Spike said, “You’re bloody well jokin’, right?….Oh, this is rich! I love a good mystery ‘n’ all, but this is too much!”

Xander, returning too late with the water, wearing his usual out of the loop expression asked, “What? What’d I miss?”

Still choking Spike said, “Enfield, the man’s name is Enfield!”

As they watched Enfield’s retreating form, Giles commented, “Really, Spike. You have such an imagination. What are you suggesting? Are we going to meet your friend Dracula again?”

“Dracula? What? Dracula’s here? No! I’m NOT going through that again!” he said slamming down the cup of water and making a watery mess of the papers on the desk. Spike and Giles snickered at the recollection of Xander rushing to his ~master’s~ assistance.

Giles led off, “It’s just a coincidence…and not a very good one, I might add. As I recall Dracula’s assistant ….that is …before Xander …was Renfield, not Enfield.”

Spike shook his head and offered, “’m just saying, is all….a disappearing guard then a mystery guard and a henchman named Enfield?…I think somebody’s got a sense of humor is all.”

The three men waited a few more moments not wanting to leave the building unattended, finally Giles called to the Office of the Guards to report that a post was left uncovered and a replacement would be needed immediately. The Sergeant on duty told Giles he would lock the main office, notify the rest of the guards to contact him by beeper in the event he was needed and he would cover the post himself. Thus relieved the three men went to the car and continued the conversation.

“Fine, well you’ve had your fun, Spike. The fact remains that this MacGregor is a mystery. I’ve been running this place for a while now without any trouble let alone something like this.”

“Like what, Giles, my man?” said Xander. “No disrespect here, but I think you may be letting your imagination go wild…. I mean, think about it. What do you know? Binny wasn’t at work. OK. Did ya ever stop to think the man might be taking a vacation day? Or have a bit of a stomach bug? Just ‘cause you’re Watcher Man and used to dealing with monsters and demons and things that go bump in the night doesn’t mean that everything is world ending.”

Spike piped up, “The whelp’s right…and just ‘cause your Queen Bee back there didn’t know of this MacGregor doesn’t mean someone in charge of your Light Brigade doesn’t know about him.”

“Yes, yes, of course you’re both right.” Giles said as he climbed into the driver’s seat and put further thought of the puzzle away for the remainder of the evening. “Everybody settled then? Next stop The Riderless Horse for some rest and recreation. Xander and I thought you might fancy a few pints and a game of darts at our local pub.”

“Right then, we’ll put a few quid on the game eh? Just to make it interestin?”

Xander and Giles exchanged conspiratorial glances that caught the vampire’s eye. He smiled and raised an eyebrow as Giles went on, “Oh….yes….I suppose that would be alright…if you insist.”

Xander thought the old man was pouring it on a little thick and wasn’t as sure of his success as he had been earlier. He’d had time to remember Spike’s prowess at pool and Giles didn't know that he and Spike had discussed the matter earlier. He was glad the cagey conversation ended as they arrived at the pub.

Like so many English pubs, this one seemed to be lost in time. It had undoubtedly served farmers and artisans looking for a bit of camaraderie for centuries. The smell of beer soaked wood and plain old English cooking, and polished coarse wood tables and booths placed far enough apart to afford each patron some privacy but close enough to be able to get as many patrons in as possible at any given time. Of course there was always room at the bar for someone like Spike who was used to blokes moving out of the way to accommodate him. For Spike, places like this were a comfort zone. He raised an eyebrow and smiled his darkest smile mentally counting all the money in Giles and Xander’s pockets.

He bellied up the bar, set eyes on the barkeep and said, “Three pints of yer best for me ‘n’ me mates m’ good man and a set of your darts. We have a little wager! I’ll buy, as I expect it’ll be the last time tonight.” Spike’s smooth, slick sense of surety rattled the two would be con men and left them afraid …very afraid.

All thoughts of MacGregor and his henchman Enfield left as their thoughts gave way to the dart board, football and ale.
~~~

The three sat enjoying this round of drinks on Spike. It only seemed right. He’d cleaned them out fair and square and he made more than a few friends at the pub since there were some side bets on him as well. The one’s who lost did so in good fellowship. It was an all round pleasant evening here at The Riderless Horse. The locals would be talking about it for some time to come. They were already asking when Spike would be back for another round that turned the conversation at the table around.

Giles picked up his pint of Boddingtons’s and took a deep draught, wiped his mouth and asked, “Well Spike, perhaps it’s time we talked about your plans.”

Spike folded the bills he won and put them into his pocket, tapped his pack of cigarettes to free one from the pack, placed it in his lips and tipped his head to his lighter. He lit his cigarette and took a deep drag, and blew the smoke into the already smoked filled air without ever making eye contact. He finally spoke. Smoke spilled from his mouth with the words, “I was hoping you might tell me, mate.”

Nothing could mask the look of surprise on Giles face. He waited to swallow some peanuts before he answered, “Tell you what?”

Xander looked from man to man trying to read their eyes, sense their feelings. True, he’d never been the most perceptive fellow, in fact, he was usually the last one to catch on to the nuance of a moment, but this time he felt like he was spot on. Oh God, he thought, I’m even starting to think like a Brit. When the moments stretched out and no one broke the silence, he finally said, “Giles, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but Spike has been part of the team for a long time now. You’re not gonna leave him hanging, are you?”

“Oi, Whelp, I don’t need you speakin’ for me. I’ve been takin’ care of myself for a right long time now and I reckon I can keep on just fine. I just figured that before I began my next Grand Tour of Europe I’d check in with the Watcher….y’know? Find out if any beasties needed killin’!” God, he thought, what a loser I’ve become, nearly come to beggin’.

The barkeep called out “Last Call” just as another customer came into the pub. “I’m sorry sir, I’m closin’ up now.” Spike took special notice of the stranger as he waited for Giles to answer Xander.

“Actually, I was hoping you might point out Mr. Giles, the Headmaster at the New Council Academy to me.”

“Aye, Constable,” he answered since the fellow was dressed in what looked like a police uniform, “He’s at the table in the corner with his friends.”

The handsome dark haired stranger followed his gaze and offered thanks and went over to the table. Spike never took his eyes off the man. As a vampire he already knew quite a lot about him…all those handy predatory skills.

“Excuse me, would one of you gentlemen be Rupert Giles,” the man said a nearly incomprehensible Scot accent. Xander raised his eyebrows at the strange sound of the accent and shot a glance to Spike while stifling a giggle. Spike met his gaze with utterly no expression on his face. That puzzled Xander. It was creepy, like Spike was up to something.

Giles turned his head to the stranger and said, ”Yes, I’m Mr. Giles.”

Continuing in the thick accent, the man said, “Mr. Giles, I’m afraid I owe you an apology.” Giles raised his hand to interrupt which the man did not allow, “I’m Malcolm MacGregor.”

“Ah, Mr. MacGregor,” Giles reached for his hand to shake and was taken by surprise as MacGregor made a sort of salute. Somewhat startled by the show he went on, “Ahhh…,” suppressing a smirk, “It’s good of you to seek me out, although completely unnecessary. I would have been happy to see you in the morning in my office.”

Still standing ramrod straight, MacGregor replied, “Yessir, that’s exactly why I came to find you tonight. You see, I’m not available during the day.” Then after a pause, “I have a day job.”

“Oh, I see. Well then, is there a problem?”

“Perhaps sir. Mr. Enfield is a friend of mine and he asked me to fill in for Mr. Binnemon at the last minute. I told him I was uncomfortable just puttin’ in hours at a place without bein’ properly hired and all but he said you were a stickler for makin’ sure all the guard posts were filled every shift and as how he knew Binny wasn’t comin’ in and I needed the money he figured it’d be alright with you and when he told me you had him brought back to the Hall and questioned him I di’n’t want him to get in no trouble and that’s why I came lookin’ fer ye.” He said all this without once gasping for air, a fact that went unnoticed by all except Spike.

Giles hesitated before he answered, “I see…and do you know how it is that Enfield knew that Binnemon wasn’t going to be on the job tonight?”

“No sir, I don’t.”

“Alright, Mr. MacGregor.” Giles began.

“Just MacGregor, sir, if you don’t mind.”

“MacGregor, then. Will you be working tomorrow evening?”

“I’d like to, sir, I need the work.”

“Fine. Report to the Academy Constabulary at 6:00 p.m. Can you manage that with your schedule?”

“Yessir.” He replied remaining at attention.

“When you’ve finished the necessary paperwork tell the Duty Officer that I wish for you to come to my office. I’m often there until after 7:00 and will make certain of it tomorrow.”

“Very well, sir. Thank you, sir.” He turned and left the pub as abruptly as he arrived.

~~~

Watching MacGregor’s ramrod exit, Xander stood and did a ~changing-of-the-guard~ jump and an exaggerated mock salute. “Sir, yes sir, sir….did I say Sir? Sir”

“Alright, Xander, that’s enough. The man does seem to be a bit over the top but that’s no reason to be rude.”

“What rude? The last time I saw something with an accent like that it was in the 1939 rendition of Gunga Din. Victor McLaughlin. Oh yeah, I’m the man you want on your side when you’re playing Trivial Pursuit.”

Giles’ chuckle was cut short by the slow deadly tone in Spike’s voice, “I have something to tell you, Rupert. I think we should leave now.” Giles’ face hardened. He knew the tone implied no threat to Xander or himself, but someone or something raised Spike’s ire.

“Yes, quite. It is getting late and we should be going.” He gathered his things and stood to leave following Spike who was already half way out the door.

Xander sat there, momentarily feeling abandoned.

He changed so much over the years. He applied to the Council to enter the program for Watchers after they closed the Sunnydale Hellmouth. He figured there would be no better time. His one valuable credential was that he was part of the team that did the job. Convincing them he could do the job was a battle, and Giles never let him forget that he “stuck his neck out” for him, but he proved to Giles and the Council that he did have the right stuff. He was doing surprisingly well academically and Giles complimented him on it more than once …but some things never changed.

Xander feared that he was destined to never be more than “the faithful sidekick.” He would never be taken seriously and here he sat …proof of the truth of that fear. Something just happened that escaped him and now Giles and Spike were off discussing a plan of action and he was left behind. Forgotten…but even more painful than that was the knowledge that they were right.

They were never off duty. Every moment of every day their senses were tuned to all things around them. The sights, the sounds, the smells…the subtlety of every gesture, every word. Every encounter held the possibility of danger or threat or an opportunity to learn some important intel. These things were never lost on Giles or Spike and were invisible to him.

He sighed, head bowed, lost in thought. He slipped on his jacket and pushed in his chair and bid a good night to the bartender and slowly walked out of the pub to meet the others.

~~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t bad enough that the flight was held up until the weather cleared, a fact that always instills confidence in passengers, and that they flew out at 2 a.m. instead of midnight. No, she was ensconced between two very large, over perfumed women with swollen feet who hoped she didn’t mind if they slipped off their shoes. Mind? Why would she mind? Maybe because they must have used Gorgonzola foot cream to pamper their little sausage toes! She was stuck in the middle because “those are our assigned seats, dear. If we switched and there was a crash, they wouldn’t be able to properly identify our bodies. Besides, Hilda wanted a window seat and I wanted an aisle seat. You should have booked earlier if you had a preference.”

And to make matters even more intolerable, the young mother travelling with the 7 month old and the three year old were in the aisle across from them. Of course, Granny GoodWitch and Granny Fanny Nestlerode wanted to take turns snuggling the baby. That would have been fine if it worked and the baby stopped squirming and whining when they held her, but she only became more enraged and the mother had to take her back.

She was just going to plug in the earphones and listen to some quiet classical music and pretend she was anywhere else than where she was and go to sleep. Sleep didn’t come easy. Her mind was racing between concern over the request from Giles and then Dawn’s call about his hasty turnaround…that was fishy…and concern over the fact that it was the middle of the night and she was thousands of feet in the air over a very cold ocean.

Every time someone got up and walked or rearranged themselves in their seat she got nervous. She knew about science and physics and stuff. She remembered sitting in her Mom’s car waiting while she ran an errand kicking in time to a song on the radio and realizing she was rocking the whole car. A little bitty thing like her could move a whole car! A whole plane full of wiggling people could send it off course and they could end up going out of control. She wanted to stand up and tell everyone to “SIT STILL!”

But still, she had to try to sleep…and it almost worked until the Grannies started snoring in loud, sputtering spurts and snorts, even the earphones couldn’t block them out.

She finally did drift off wondering if a jury would convict her of murder. No. No reasonable person could be held accountable after dealing with all this. It must have been a comforting thought though because it lulled her, at long last, into blessed, welcome sleep.

~~~~~~~

Giles and Spike were waiting in the car for Xander. He took his keys out of his jacket and hoisted himself into the driver’s seat. He adjusted his rear view mirror and started the car. No one spoke…at all. It was surreal. Xander had no idea what to do. Should I say something? Break the ice?…

What the hell happened here?…

Why does the ice need to be broken? Weren’t we just playing darts and having a few pints together?….

God, I hate this.

Hang out with a vampire and weird things are bound to happen…..

OK, let me think this through…if I ask what’s the what then they know I have no clue and they think I’m stupid….right…because I am stupid!

No! I am NOT stupid, just out of the loop….right. ….

Maybe I should lead with an open ended comment and one of them will pick up on it and give me a clue? Something like, “Hey, how about that?”…

But what if they don’t take the bait? What if they say, “How about what?” Where do I go then?

He pulled into the driveway….Before he could say a word, Spike and Giles got out of the car and closed their doors, each saying goodnight , see you tomorrow in their own particular way.

Well…thought Xander, …that went well.

~~~

“Rupert, I think I should be at your office this evening when this MacGregor comes by,” Spike said as he put the morning tea to steep.

Giles was bustling around the cottage preparing to leave for work. “Spike, I’ve been dealing with vampires for a good while now and I doubt there’s anything remarkable about this one. He’ll dust as easily as the next one.”

“Like me, then?”

Giles stopped dead in his tracks, “Easy, old man, getting a bit dramatic, what?”

“You didn’t even recognize that he was a vampire. That makes him special, what.” Spike said with raised voice and with all the sarcasm he could muster. “He’s smooth…and I’ll tell you what else…he’s been a vamp for awhile…no fledge, this one…”

“Yes, and you know all this because you have centuries of experience in vampire clannish ways.” Giles was thrashing books and papers about looking for something as his voice rose, “Give me a break, man. I never even took a good look at him. If you recall he stood at my side when he delivered his address.”

“Ah, and you’ve spent your entire academic life in the study of vampires and their clannish ways,” Spike smirked holding up Giles keys.

Bursting with indignity, Giles grabbed his keys from Spike’s hand and left the cottage, slamming the broken door behind him. It toppled off its hinges and nearly hit him as he went to his car. The sound of Spike’s laughter followed him all the way down the long drive.

~~~

Funny thing, being a busy vampire, but as Giles screeched out of the driveway, Spike realized he had quite a lot to do today starting, he thought, with repairing the door. It would have been far better to have the carpenter do it, he supposed, but over the years he acquired more than a few skills, one of which was simple household repair. Dru kept breaking things in her little flight of fancy and he kept mending them.

She often popped into his head, he realized as he went about realigning the doorframe. Sometimes she brought pleasant memories of good times and sometimes memories followed immediately by overwhelming self-condemnation.

It was going to be a pleasant day. There was a soft breeze wafting its way through the gaping doorway and it brought with it the scent of a crisp country morning. He allowed his mind to continue its random journey as he went about his work. After nailing the boards into place he found some white paint to patch the areas where they had been torn away.

He discarded the tea he fixed for Giles…that the sod never drank…ungrateful prat….reheated tea was just not the same…and set the kettle to boil for a fresh pot as he waited for the paint to dry. His blood supply was getting precariously low and he needed to find a butcher to buy some pigs blood …bugger…too bad he couldn’t just drain the butcher…Those days long gone, old man, he thought…and laughed aloud. It sounded hollow in the empty cottage.

With the tea steeping, he picked up the clutter that he and Xander created in Giles’ home. The William in him didn’t like an untidy room, he was thinking when Buffy wandered into his thoughts…warm skin, even her scent was warm…and welcoming, like ….home….warm enough for both of them. Much more pleasant than thoughts of Drucilla. He sometimes thought he was betraying Buffy when his thoughts turned to Dru, but then realized one couldn’t spend a century with someone without having a memory or two….and afterall, he had spent a century with his dark princess. He loved her….. He did….he thought, and he believed then that it was an eternal flame….no, it was a raging inferno that was destined to extinguish itself.

With Buffy, it was golden embers, always burning deep within…with a sense that it has always been there….even before time. Would he ever have the courage to tell her he was back? Would he ever have the courage to tell her Angel was gone? No….he doubted he would ever see her again and could only warm himself with memories.

~~~

~~~Chapter 14 ~ Gumshoes

After passing through the secretarial pool and feeling the chill in the air Giles deduced that he should call Adele in and do some damage control before he handled any of the myriad things on his plate.

He used the phone to call her rather than the intercom…it seemed more personal, less dictatorial. “Mr. Giles office, this is Mrs. Reed. How can I help you?” came the professional tone.

You can act like a mature adult instead of a spoiled child, he thought, but said instead, “Yes, Adele, would you please step into my office for a moment.”

In the matter of minutes it took for Mrs. Reed to enter his office, Giles mood shifted from penitent that he was rude to Mrs. Reed the night before to indignant that she would take umbrage at his brusque manner. How dare she imagine herself so important? He knew he wasn’t rude to her, just abrupt and she was just being a ridiculous female and he’d had just about enough of it. So, when she walked in the door head held high and feeling very powerful indeed because she no doubt had the support of the entire secretarial staff in her misplaced outrage, there was nothing left for him to do but squash her like the annoying female bug she was.

Mr. Giles had forgotten about females and their ability to manipulate a situation in subtle ways. He went ahead with his tirade, “Mrs. Reed, I will not have the business of this office interrupted with petty outbursts and demonstrations of solidarity among the secretarial staff over such a trivial issue. This unpleasant reaction to our encounter last night is childish and unacceptable.” There, that ought to do it, he thought.

As he spoke, though, Adele’s lower lip started to quiver and her face took on a peculiar color and she looked like she might erupt in some fashion. As he finished, the tears large and heavy began to roll from her eyes. Then came the sob, “Oh, Mr. Giles,…” and he was lost.

He rushed from his chair with hanky in hand and led her gently to a chair. “Please, Mrs. Reed…um…Adele, this isn’t something to cry over.” He rolled his eyes in dismay as he patted her back and she continued gasping with great sobs. He was truly out of his element.

“It’s just that….” Her phrases were interrupted as she took deep, sobbing breaths, “…we just had such a pleasant meeting and it was so nice to see you so unexpectedly…..We thought perhaps you were arriving late to our meeting…you know, you’ve always been invited….and then you just cut me off like a ….well, I don’t know what…but it felt like a slap and …..” Then there were more sobs, “…and I was so embarrassed, that I didn’t know anything about that Scottish fellow and I thought I must have been remiss in my job. I was so upset when I got home that Mr. Reed wanted to come and punch you in the nose…” she looked up at Giles eye to eye, “but I stopped him.” She was calming now as she continued, “He wants me to quit my job.”

“What?” said Giles. “Quit your job? Over this?….Have you gone mad, woman?”

At that her face began to screw up and take on that odd color again and he quickly backed off, “Now, now, Adele. Enough of this nonsense.” He went and took his own seat and their meeting took on a whole new tone.

Giles prepared a pot of tea as they went over their misunderstandings of the night before and this morning and before very long they returned to the very pleasant working relationship they enjoyed for well over a year. In the end, he managed to convince her that he was entitled to have a bad moment too. They apologized to one another and by the time she left his office, her tears were gone and her face returned to its usual rather bland color.

He asked her to arrange for a driver to meet Buffy at the airport and reminded her to make arrangements for her to have one of the private cottages, preferably The Harborage freshened up for her stay. “Really, sir? I know that was what you said yesterday, but she seemed to enjoy her stay in the dormitory with the girls during her last visit. I was going to suggest she stay in Stuart Hall this time.”

“No, Mrs. Reed. Please undo those arrangements if you’ve already gone ahead. I’m sorry if the girls will be disappointed but I’ve determined that it would be better for Buffy to have some alone time during this visit.” Then he added, with a small smile, “She’s a grown woman now and entitled to some privacy.”

Mrs. Reed couldn’t help but return his smile. It was such a warm and loving expression. She didn’t think the smile had anything to do with her, but everything to do with Buffy. The Watcher/Slayer relationship must be a very special one, she thought….
~~~

Buffy felt badly for the driver who waited more than two hours longer than he had to because of the delayed flight. She comforted herself with the thought that someone should have checked with the airport regarding delays. My God, she thought, you can do it on-line. Oh well, maybe he napped or read a good book…he’s getting paid anyway. Now that she thought of it, she had no idea what his regular job was…maybe it was something distasteful or really grueling….then he’d be happy to be paid for this down time. That made her feel a lot better.

The ride was pleasant and the two hours plus went quickly the last time she visited. It was just after five in the afternoon and the sun was already setting before they were underway. All the extra security took so much time not counting having your luggage ransacked in customs. She giggled to herself as she thought about the expressions on the custom clerk’s face when he saw her panties. She’d made sure the more outrageous ones were right on top. Her favorites were the wine colored ones that had “lickilicious” written on the front. Still, she was sorry they hadn’t gotten done sooner because most of the ride would be in the dark. She’d grabbed some cookies…biscuits, I’m in England now…and a container of hot tea before leaving the airport, but she was hungry and hoping there would be something to nosh on when she got to Hogwarts…ooh…she’d better stop calling the Academy by that nickname. Giles probably wouldn’t be amused.
~~~

Xander stewed over the situation all day as he literally closeted himself in his office/closet. It was nearly impossible to study ancient symbols with his mind reeling over events at the pub last night however; he was on duty and being paid and didn’t dare skip out during the day. He decided he’d check things out after dinner. It didn’t make the studying go any better, but at least now he had a plan.

He ran his mind over every cliché about how time can drag when you want it to fly when finally the time came to close shop, bid goodnight to the ladies in the secretarial pool and get some dinner at the refectory.

He checked his pockets; he was well armed with holy water and stakes. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself…he learned early on that the secretaries were snitches…so he couldn’t bring any substantial weaponry. He knew he was probably nuts doing this, but he was tired of being the one left out and he had to prove he could handle the tough stuff when necessary.

Dinner was great, it always was, but he hardly tasted any of it. The cooks here were spectacular and they were just like the secretaries, if he didn’t eat his usual hearty meal with two desserts they’d probably be on the phone to Giles telling him there was a problem. Man, it sucks when you must eat; even the best stuff tastes like paste.

He cleared his tray and put his silver and plates in the proper bins and bid a cheery goodnight to everyone who caught his eye. Any more than that would have been suspicious too.

He decided to drive out the way he would ordinarily go to get to his quarters and once he was over the hill and the car was no longer in sight of the dining hall he turned toward the woods where Spike said he saw Enfield last night.

He was thinking it gets dark quick this time of year. He checked the glove compartment and was glad to find his flashlight…yeah, yeah…torch. He pulled off the road and doused his headlights and then parked the car, locked it and pulled some brush around to hide it a bit. He didn’t plan on being more than a couple of minutes, but he didn’t want the car to be obvious either and then set off on foot as quietly as he could toward the old graveyard at the edge of the schools land.

The night air had taken on a chill as he thought he’d “clocked loads of field time” (Geez, he loved that phrase) but he’d never patrolled alone. He wasn’t sure if he could hear anything over the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

The thought was answered almost immediately as he heard a crackle of leaves and branches behind him. He stilled and crouched, glad that he didn’t switch on the flashlight. His eyes adjusted to the dark and while his night vision wasn’t great, it was better than he expected and he had a good sense of the surrounding terrain.

It was Enfield carrying something and walking with purpose toward the cemetery. Xander remained quiet and watched him walk farther into the cemetery and out of Xander’s view. He followed and was almost spotted as Enfield, empty-handed, came walking back toward him just as purposefully. Xander dropped as quietly as he could and watched as the guard strode by just a few feet from where he crouched. What the fuck? He thought…he’d almost said it out loud. That would have been grand…OK, what’s he up to? I don’t think he’s a vampire…wouldn’t he have sniffed me?

~~~

There was no guard on duty when Spike entered the main hall to join Giles in his office. At first he was startled and then remembered that there was a brief time each hour when one post was left unattended. Still, his shift into game face was automatic and despite his understanding of a reasonable explanation he decided to stay that way. His always-sharp senses were even more feral when the demon was in the forefront.

He decided to use the stairs to do a quick check of the whole building. The motor of the lift would be a dead giveaway to any suspicious character. He chuckled to himself…he’d make a damned fine watchman himself…however, tonight he was only watching the Watcher. He found the building to be mostly deserted at this hour with the exception of the odd librarian (he chuckled again) and a secretary or two to whom he offered a pleasant greeting. Sometimes he really did wonder if he had a bit of thrall the way women just accepted him so easily. He was certain they had no idea the potential danger they were in ….he was the Big Bad after all.

All right, they were in no danger from him whatsoever….but they didn’t know that now did they?
His mind wandered back to earlier that day when he went on an investigation in the gray of a rainy English afternoon. His life had become so pitifully tame he needed to dare the sun to come out in order to feel a little danger to keep his blood moving. He went back to the road where he first spotted Enfield the night before and just as he thought, it was the road to the cemetery.

It was an old little used cemetery. The most recent graves he noted dated back to the 1970s and there were precious few of them. The rest dated back to mid 19th century through to the 1890s. There were several ornate crypts and one in particular had a well beaten path to its door. A closer look was definitely in order, but not without due caution. It was a graveyard; after all, all sorts of beasties and ghoulies might be about. It was quiet though, no sense of anything amiss, no tinglies. The critters hadn’t even stopped their chattering as they often did when a predator was about. How was that for a clear indication of how pathetic he was?

He pushed open the door to the crypt listening for the expected creak of the hinges and none came…what the ….? ….it had been oiled. It was dim inside but he was able to see well enough. Someone had set up camp in a crypt!…..This was too much. Nice little cot with a puffy sleeping bag on it…all nice and neat. A little table next to the cot with a camp light and a stack of books. Gloucestershire, A History and England’s Ancient Roman Ruins and Exercises in English Pronunciation. Hmmmmm….

There was a footlocker with an assortment of men’s clothing and toiletries and against the other wall was a cooler. He could go for a cold one right about now…..


~~~
Entering the grounds of The New Council Academy for Exceptional Girls was like something out of a gothic romance. The grounds were misty and all the buildings were lighted with decorative lighting throwing beams onto the impressive features of the structures. If you preferred historic buildings to modern architecture, this was the place for you.

Nigel Pinthistle, the driver, pulled up in front of a smallish stone cottage that Snow White probably shared with the seven dwarves.

“Why are we stopping here?” Buffy asked.

“This is where you’ll be staying, miss,” Nigel replied as he exited the car to gather her bags from the boot.

“No, Mr. Pinthistle…. is it? That’s not right. I usually stay in one of the dorms.”

“Pinthistle, miss. Just Pinthistle.” Mr. Pinthistle had a lisp and said Pinthithle. “I’m afraid that’s not so this time, miss. This is where I was instructed to take you.”

“Well, thank you Pinthithle….oh, I mean Pinthithle…..oh.” Buffy made a squinched, embarrassed face.

“It’s alright, miss, you’re not the first,” he said. He lugged the baggage to the front door and stood waiting. “Here’s the key, miss.”

Buffy reached out and took the key and turned the lock. “OK, but this is definitely odd.”

“I can only guess miss, but there are new students arriving almost every day, perhaps there isn’t room for you in the dorms.”

“Good guess! I’ll bet you’re right….just give me a hand getting these things inside, would you? Thanks.”

As he lifted bag after bag, he grunted, “So you’ll be staying on for good now, then, eh?”

“No. Just a few days. Why would you think that?”

Nigel Pinthistle glanced at the luggage he carried in and said nothing.

Observing his glance with understanding, Buffy sheepishly said, “Oh.” After a moment she reached in her pocket and offered Nigel some cash while again offering thanks.

He just smiled and said, “No thanks, miss, a tip isn’t necessary. There’s a phone inside if you need anything. Have a nice stay. Goodnight.” Pinthistle watched as she unlocked the door and switched on a light inside. Buffy waved to indicate all was well and watched him drive away, closed and locked the door and looked around.

It was a charming cottage right out of an old movie set with an overstuffed couch and chair, a couple of dark wood…(mahogany?) straight chairs and floral chintz drapes. Against the far wall was a fireplace in the small sitting room, but no fire. Too bad, she thought, that would have been nice. She turned on lights as she walked to the back of the room. It was along room so behind the couch there was a narrow sofa table that doubled as a buffet for the dining room area. The table had a crocheted doily with a vase with fresh flowers resting on it. There was a door on the left that led to a small old-fashioned kitchen with one of those double sinks with a yellow gingham skirt and an old, clean but worn linoleum floor. At the other end of the kitchen was a short hallway with a bathroom on the right. It had a footed bathtub and one of those showers with a hoop to hang the shower curtain. The toilet had the tank on the wall with a pull chain. Wow! Just imagine…modern conveniences!

The doorway on the left across from the bathroom was the bedroom. It was beautiful in a homey old-fashioned way. The walls were covered with white wallpaper with tiny pink roses with green stems and crisp white woodwork. Crisscrossed sheer Pricilla curtains covered the windows over the cushioned window seat. She’d bet anything that the sun will come streaming in that window in the morning so she checked to make sure there was a shade…she was hoping to sleep in a little in the morning. Good. There was. Heavy one too…probably a blackout shade from WWII. England was so old fashioned, she thought.

The furniture was highly polished maple with what looked like hand embroidered doilies on the nightstands and dressers. The bed was an ordinary double bed. She didn’t think they even made them anymore. She could only recall seeing twins, queens and kings. The bedspread was rosy pink chenille. White ruffled hand embroidered throw pillows were on the bed too. There must have been eight of them and an envelope marked…Buffy.


Buffy,

I’m sorry I am unable to meet you this evening. I have some evening appointments that I am unable to reschedule. Having made the trip so many times myself, I know how weary you must be so I thought an evening alone in the cottage might allow you the rest you need.

I suspect you are probably hungry so I ordered a plate of some nice local cheeses with fresh cut fruit and bread. You’ll find it in the refrigerator. The cheese is best at room temperature, so perhaps you might take it out of the fridge and set it on the counter while you take a relaxing bath. By the time you’re finished the cheese will be just right.

There’s also some white wine in the refrigerator and red in one of the cabinets in the parlor, if you prefer. You’ll also find various staples in the kitchen, tea, milk, bread, eggs, biscuits…that sort of thing.

Feel free to make a fire if you wish, just be sure to remember to open the flue (lever inside the fireplace on the right…pull it out toward you.) If you don’t do that the cottage will fill with smoke. OR, heat operated by a thermostat just to the left of the kitchen door if you are chilly.

I’m afraid there is no telly, but there is a radio and lots of books. I’ll call in the morning. If these accommodations are not satisfactory, we can see about some other arrangements tomorrow.

If you need anything just dial 0 and the operator will locate me immediately.

I’m glad you’re here.


G

Humph, thought Buffy…I’m glad I’m here too. She grabbed her bags and unpacked. She already fallen in love with the little cottage and it would take an act of Congress …no…she chuckled, remembering where she was… Parliament … to get her to move out of here now. She took her toiletries into the bathroom and gave them homes on the shelves and in the drawers and hung her robe on the hook behind the door. After fiddling with the water controls and the tub stopper she found a nice temperature and left the tub to fill while she put the rest of her things away. The closet wasn’t too roomy so it was good she decided against a lot of things that needed hanging. Shoes on the bottom of the closet floor and she was done.

A quick look to make sure that the tub wasn’t going to overflow and she went to find the red wine…if letting the cheese come to room temp was good, letting the wine breathe was even better. The corkscrew was right in the cabinet with the wine….how convenient….and it was the kind she knew how to use…somebody was watching out for her….thank you, Giles. Wineglasses on the top shelf made everything perfect. She seriously considered going ahead and pouring a glass to take in to the tub with her, but decided she was a sophisticate now and as such wouldn’t drink wine that hadn’t caught it’s breath. She giggled all the way to the tub.

~~~

~~~Chapter 15 ~ 40 Year-old Scotch

It was nearly seven and Giles was thinking of packing up and heading home. MacGregor hadn’t shown and neither had Spike. He made it quite clear what time he expected to leave. It surprised him that MacGregor, who seemed to think what he had to say was so important and Spike, who named himself his bodyguard failed to be present.

Then he heard movement in the outer office and gathered it was MacGregor. He stood to get the door when Spike stood up and said, “You really think that’s wise, Watcher?”

Giles jumped at least six inches and let out what came devilishly close to a girly scream. Raising his voice considerably more than he wanted, he said, “Where the bloody hell did you come from?”

Spike’s face was nearly angelic in its innocence as he answered, “Been here since around sixish. Saw you were busy with your paper shufflin’ and figured I’d sit and be quiet.”

His face red and his breath coming hard and fast, Giles said, “You might give a chap some warning, you nearly killed me. How did you get in anyway?”

Spike only smiled. “I walked in. Vampire……stealthy!” he said, wiggling his fingers to demonstrate how spooky he could be, “Is this your guest comin’ now?”

“I expect. Now will you please return to your seat and let me conduct my business.” Giles said as he opened the door. “Please come in Mr. MacGregor.”

“As I said last night, sir, just MacGregor will be fine,” he said as he entered the office, “Good evenin’ to you.”

“Please take a seat, Mr….ah…I’m sorry…MacGregor.” Giles indicated a chair across the desk as he took his own seat.

“Thank you, if you don’t mind I’d like to get right down to it, sir,” he said as he settled into his chair. “I have something important to report to you.”

In his most stern, official voice, Giles began, “Well! MacGregor, I’ve got something to …..”

Spike interrupted, “Why not let him have his say, Giles.” At the sound of Spike’s voice MacGregor screamed (like a girl) and jumped out of the chair knocking it over.

“Wha…who….where the hell did you come from?” MacGregor was yelling, now, “Jesus Christ, man, you scared me to death!” He was visibly shaken and was grasping his arms around himself in a protective posture.

Giles looked puzzled at Spike’s comment until MacGregor’s hysterical outburst.

Spike offered his hand to MacGregor, “William Sanger, people call me Spike.”

MacGregor took his hand, paused for a moment, meeting Spike’s gaze and said simply, “MacGregor.”

The situation back in control, Giles said to Spike, “Let him have his say?”

“Yeah, I’m sure whatever he’s got to tell us will be ….. interesting…you know? Informative.”

“Yes, uh…yes, Spike…of course…I defer to your instincts.” Giles pointed to the chair MacGregor previously occupied.

MacGregor nodded and took the seat. “Yes. What I’ve got to say is quite shocking. Terrifying, in fact.”

Jointly, Spike and Giles said, “Well, get on with it then!”

Startled, MacGregor jumped a little and then spoke, “You’re probably not going to believe me, but I swear it’s true,” he paused, turning his head to look each man in the eye, “Vampires have access to your campus!” He sat straight up and waited for the hailstorm of comments that were sure to come.
Only silence.

Giles and Spike glanced at each other and then again at MacGregor. Spike said, “That’s it?”

Dumbfounded, he said, “Well, yes. Isn’t that enough?”

“Look mate, I don’t know what your game is, but we know you’re a vamp,” Spike said. “Wot?…are you turning yourself in?” He looked at Giles and said, “Are you as confused as I am?”

Before Giles could answer, MacGregor insisted, “Vampires, real vampires…..” and then stopped, “Wait…you know I’m a vampire?”

They both looked somewhat bored as they nodded in unison.

“Not me,” MacGregor whined, “other vampires….a whole group of them…and I think they’ve got plans to….um….” his face contorted, “… your girls.”

Spike began, “You really are THE dumbest vampire I’ve ever come across, mate.”

MacGregor stood suddenly, Spike…even quicker, grabbed him by the lapels and was about to slam him across the room when MacGregor shouted, “I BEG your pardon, unhand me….now!” as he shifted into game face.

Spike never released his hold, “Oooooh, lookie here, watcher, he’s a vampire!” as he shifted into game face.

MacGregor’s eyes grew round as saucers just before they rolled back in his head and he passed out cold.

“What the bloody hell?….Did you see that?” Spike said to Giles who looked every bit as astounded as he as he plopped the vampire back in his chair. Giles poured a small glass of water from the pitcher always ready on his desk and splashed some water on MacGregor’s face.

“Are you sure he’s a vampire? ….He fainted! What sort of vampire faints?”

“Check his pulse…or lack of…” Spike shouted in disgust. “I told you there was somethin’ odd about him. Vampires instinctively recognize one another…the demons sense their place and defer to their betters. Only the newest fledge wouldn’t recognize a master vampire and this fellow is no fledge…but he acts like one. I don’t get it. ………and why am I telling you this? You’re a bleedin’ Watcher. You’re supposed to know this stuff.”

MacGregor started to come around….he sputtered, opened his eyes, saw Spike and recoiled in recognition. “Oh God, I’d never seen one before….not in person.”

“This is bollocks! Let me dust him, please let me dust him….he’s an embarrassment to our kind.”

Giles raised his hand, “NO!…where’s your curiosity Spike? Even if whatever he has to tell us IS bollocks, don’t you want to know about HIM? He’s an enigma!”

“Yeah, enigma…right.” Spike grabbed him again and said, “Fess up! What’s yer story?”

“Will you PUT HIM DOWN!….” Giles said, but Spike hesitated, and so he added, “NOW!”
Spike dropped him back in the chair like a stuffed bear, “Argh…..” turned his back and receded to a chair in the corner.

“Now then, Mr. MacGregor….”Giles began while removing his glasses and polishing them. Spike was surprised it took him this long.

“Just MacGregor, sir.”

“Yes, yes….MacGregor. Would you like a drink?”

Spike piped in, “Well I bloody well would , ta ever so,“ and got up to pour drinks around. When he stood, MacGregor flinched. “So, Enigma, what’s your story? Did I hear you right? You’ve never seen a vampire?”

“Well…” MacGregor answered slightly embarrassed, “no.” He glanced at both men and understood that his secret life was over and told them a condensed version of his life story. He extended his glass for a refill indicating he reached the end of his tale.

The room echoed with the sound of silence. Both Spike and Giles were speechless, their minds reeling with questions and no idea where to start.

MacGregor seized the moment, “Now will you let me tell you what I came here to say?”

Torn from his thoughts and questions, Giles nodded while pulling off his glasses.

“Vampires have designs on your campus. They mean to feed on your girls.”

“Yes, so you said, but what you don’t understand is that this is a campus of vampire slayers.
In your studies you’ve no doubt come across the lineage of the slayers. I’m certain that you have not had access to the most current events in the history of the Watcher’s Council and therefore are unaware that many hundreds of girls have been empowered as slayers. In fact, this school and two others exist to acquaint the girls with their legacy. New girls are being identified every day and brought to the schools and there are plans in the works to open more schools to accommodate them. So, you see, even if what you say is true, there’s not reason for concern as our girls are trained to handle the situation…not to mention our twenty-four hour guards.” Giles really did try not to sound condescending, but he failed miserably.

MacGregor sat back and assumed a smug smile. “Your twenty-four hour guards are vampires.”

“What?” Giles dropped his glasses and Spike spilled his drink. Completely flustered, the two set about cleaning up the mess and grabbing Giles’ glasses before Spike stepped on them.

MacGregor knew he had their attention now. “Binnemon is the master.”

Giles turned on Spike, seething, “Why didn’t you tell me that Binne was a vampire? I thought you said you recognize one another.”

“Hold on there, Capt’n…I never met the man. The only guard I ever laid eyes on was that Enfield chap and I told you there was something odd about him, but he wasn’t a vampire.”

“He’s right, Mr. Giles. Enfield is my ….helper. Look, I haven’t been around here all that long, so I can’t give you all the details, but what I’ve been able to gather is that his specialty is hypnotism….thrall. He’s teaching his fledges. Mesmerize the victims and then drink. They’re under strict orders not to turn anyone….and not to kill anyone. The victims have no recollection of the encounter and the vamps revisit their victims once every couple of weeks. Basically, they turn their victims into cows.” He looked to Spike, “That’s the right term, isn’t it?”

Spike only nodded, quite literally speechless.

Giles shoulders sagged. “Our girls?”

“No sir, not yet. The neighboring towns though. Have ye not seen the articles in the papers about the increase in the frequency of anemia? The local doctors and hospitals have seen a spike in their statistics. There’s no panic or anything. Just a few short articles hidden on the inner pages. Most people never read beyond the headlines anyway.”

“But surely the marks are distinctive….someone should be suspicious.” Giles observed.

The Scot shook his head, “Only me, and he’s teaching them to bite the brachial artery and to lick the wounds clean when they’re finished. They don’t need to bury their fangs near as deep to draw blood and the cleaning helps seal the wound so they’ll heal faster and a bite on the inner arm is a lot less visible than one on the neck.”

“Is this true, Spike? Could this work?”

“It’s bloody brilliant is what it is,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief…and awe.

“So, MacGregor, if he’s got you on the team why are you here? This sounds like a pretty sweet deal for you too, according to Spike.”

“I am a decent man, Mr. Giles, caught in indecent circumstances. I have coped for forty years and have never bitten a human. The very idea repels me. I am an educator and have lived one lifetime already in my field. It is impossible for me to get another job. Believe me, I’ve tried. My credentials don’t match my appearance. The schools to which I’ve applied assume that they are forgeries.”

Spike had been pacing, considering MacGregor’s story and interrupted, “There’s a flaw in your story, mate. Vampires aren’t only about blood, now are we? We crave a bit of violence from time to time. The demon needs the exhilaration of a kill. How does your pal deal with that aspect?”

“I honestly don’t know, perhaps the same way I do. I am a hunter. I hunt big game bare handed…um…what’s the phrase?…Fists and fangs? It gives me the thrill of the chase although the blood is disgusting.”

Giles wiped his forehead with his hanky and returned his overly polished glasses to his face, “Do I understand then that you are looking for a teaching position?”

“Exactly.”

Spike snickered, “I’ve gotta give you this, mate, you’ve got balls of pure brass.”

“Actually, MacGregor, your proposal has some merit but I’ll need some time to think it over. How may I get in touch with you?

Spike jumped, “You can’t be serious! Bloody hell!”

“Quite serious. The idea is worth consideration at least. Now, how can I reach you?”

“Your friend here knows where I’m staying, he helped himself to several bags of blood from my place today.”

~~~

By the time Buffy got out of the tub her fingers were puckered, but Giles was right again. The bath was just what she needed. She felt fresh and pampered in her little country cottage as she padded out to the kitchen to get the plate of fruit and cheese. She poured a glass of the red wine and sipped …mmmm …not too dry….guess I haven’t grown up that much…I still like things sweetish. The bread was fresh and crisp. It was still pretty warm like just out of the oven….nah….couldn’t be…unless Giles was resorting to magic…or elves.

The only napkins she found were fine pressed linen…Such luxury. She gathered everything onto a tray and carried it into the parlor and set it on the small table in front of the couch.

The radio was tuned to a classical station…no surprise there. She moved to change it…and then pulled her hand back. No….classical music it is. It was beautiful…. slow and quiet and …sad….strings….it suited her mood. She knew she should call Dawn to let her know that she arrived but she was enjoying this quiet time too much. She would call tomorrow sometime.

The fruit was sumptuous. Juicy strawberries, slices of melon, peach sections, red and green grapes…and the creamiest mild cheddar she’d ever tasted. This was perfect….except it wasn’t ….and it never, ever would be again.

She wondered if all it took was one glass of wine to make her morose as she refilled her glass. She smiled as she remembered what Spike said. He told her she was in love with death. He was right….not so much then….but now….yes. She’d be twenty-five in January. She’d already lived longer than any slayer.

She was changing. She felt it. She knew it….She wasn’t as fast as she once was….and she wasn’t as strong. There was no need to tell Giles. It would only alarm him. Nope! It’s just the natural order of things….if there is any such thing where a slayer is concerned.

She wasn’t worried and she wasn’t afraid and she wasn’t going to be careless. It wasn’t that she wanted to die, exactly….she just wanted to be with him. She was never more certain of anything….they would be together one day. It was the only thing that kept her going. Not her friends, not Giles, not even her sister….they would all get along fine without her….after all, they’d done it before. She giggled as the juice ran down her chin and she quickly grabbed a napkin to catch it.

The last of the small bottle of wine gone, she rested her head back and closed her eyes and let the music enter her soul. In moments, she was asleep.

~~~
As a youth, MacGregor was a man so intent on his future as he imagined it, he spent every moment making it happen. His plan never included a woman. He liked them well enough, but he never felt drawn to them and an involvement might interfere with his future. Instead he concentrated on studying English Literature at University. He fancied himself a Richard Burton type, big, burly, and… sexy. He was a fine fit figure of a man with a slender waist and broad shoulders. He had black hair and ice blue eyes and he was just 6 foot tall. He had the Scotch trait of full eyebrows but at least he had two and they were only a little bushy. He could quote Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets as easily as others could recite nursery rhymes but he had a Scottish accent that was so thick people did not understand him. It was an embarrassment. He tried to change the accent. God knew he tried, but despite study with linguists and coaches, his burr was a thick as ever.

The hurt that occurred when he spoke was always the same. People expected a Scot and that he was, in spades. All those positives and it didn’t mean a thing. At auditions he was repeatedly told, “Come back when you lose the accent!”

He wasn’t a quitter. Never a quitter. He became an expert in reinventing himself. If Fate denied him a future as an actor, he would use his education to help others achieve their dream and live vicariously through the. So, he went back to University and took courses in Education. As with every other endeavor he ever undertook, he excelled and was always at the head of his class. After obtaining his doctorate he was offered a position at the University at Edinburgh. Characteristically, he immediately threw himself into his work, teaching English Literature and one drama course. Though it was only one course at least he had a foot in the door of the Drama Department.

He was content. Things were going well, until mid-year when he was called into the Provost’s office. It seems, there were complaints. His students were not doing well, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by him, but he just felt that since his courses were taught to mostly second year students they were falling into the familiar slump that so often happens second year. After completing one year of study, students tend to be know-it-alls and study be damned.

No, the Provost said. The complaints came from the parents. They said their sons and daughters were struggling with the classes because the professor was so difficult to understand. What? He was a Scot teaching at University in Scotland, for God’s sake! Ef ye canna be oond’rstud by yer oown cauntrymen, then what’re ye todo?

Well … as colleagues, they were sympathetic to his dilemma. After all, he was a brilliant scholar and an asset to the University in every other way, so they offered him a position in Administration. It was unprecedented for a first year teacher, doctorate, or no, to be allowed a position in Administration. For all but the most informed, it looked very much like a promotion. Another dream bashed, MacGregor held himself together long enough to tell his superior that he was most grateful for the offer and he would need a few days to consider it.

The Provost said that he understood and would expect to hear from him by the end of the following week. He was certain he would accept. What else could he do?

He remembered standing outside that office barely able to catch his breath. Trying desperately to hide his pain, no…his shame, from the eyes of those in the hallway, he gathered his dignity and left the building as quick as he could, sure the very walls would suffocate him if he remained a moment longer.

His mind was racing and he was shaking all over. He actually thought he might be having a heart attack. He wanted to run….but felt frozen in place. He wanted to cry….but he was a man and men don’t cry. He wanted to hurt something, someone …. He wanted to scream.

As the sun left the sky and evening approached, he realized had been sitting in his room in the same position for hours. He never went back to his classes not wanting to face his students. He wanted to hide. He wanted to die. Taking off his robes, he changed into a sports jacket, checked his pockets for money and left. MacGregor wanted to get drunk, numb. He drove five miles. He figured he could walk five miles if he had to and parked the car and started walking, looking for a pub. He was never a drinker. He was too focused for that sort of thing. In his bitterness, he considered that he would have all the time in the world now. Tonight he would learn about the lure of demon rum…he expected it was the only way to ease the pain.

Everything about him screamed civilized man, he looked every bit the professor he was. The first bartender was a gentle fellow and was able to read his customers very well. This fellow needed a drink but lacked experience. He suggested a nice sherry, on the rocks. It was sweet and warm and smelled of nuts. Very nice indeed, but he wasn’t in the mood for sweet at all. He wanted to burn. He asked about the draught beers. The bartender, amused, obliged. All right he thought, bitter…better than sweet and so…he had a few…and a few more. Feeling more buzz than pain, he thanked the fellow behind the bar and left. He wondered as he walked to the next pub if he should have left a tip. Is it proper to tip a bartender? He resolved to go a little slower at the next place and observe the others to see what was proper.

The night saw him warm barstools and booths alike in every pub within walking distance of his rooms on campus. There was not enough alcohol in Scotland to drown his pain. Over the course of the evening he rarely spoke to anyone but the bartender. He was wallowing in his misery and found solace in the drink. Never one for self-pity, with every disappointment he braced himself and stood tall and faced his troubles head on and was the better man for it but now, he reached the end of his tether.

As the night was coming to a close, he took a seat next to a man who looked like he might be a fellow academic. By this time, MacGregor moved on to hard liquor and discovered he liked the smoky sweet taste of bourbon. He struck up a conversation with the man and even in his inebriation he saw there was something sinister about this fellow. The man conducted himself with undue familiarity. He kept touching him, but the more he drank, the less he cared.

~~~

Malcolm MacGregor will never recall what happened the rest of that night, or the next night, or the night after that. His first recollection was opening his eyes and seeing nothing. His mind was reeling, trying to gain his bearings. It reeked. He reeked. Was it night? Was he still drunk? What in hell had happened? His mouth was thick and dry. He tried to move his hand to his mouth and found he was unable. He could hear…. everything…a cacophony of sound….sirens…a baby crying…no…make that babies crying….crunching….tires….pounding…make that heartbeats….WHAT THE HELL WAS HAPPENING! He moved his fingers so there was no paralysis. As he pushed the rubble fell away…it lifted…parted like the Red Sea. As he gained his footing and looked around he saw the sign…COUNTY WASTE FACILITY. Buried in trash. He had been buried in trash, garbage, waste. The rubble pushed away was dirty diapers and empty tomato tins, cereal boxes by the ton and despite this disgusting environment, he was hungry, ravenously hungry?

As fate would have it, what happened to MacGregor that night was just a mistake. By the time the vampire drained him, he was so intoxicated himself he never realized that as his victim was taking his last breaths his lips fell to the nasty laceration the vampire sustained in their scuffle and he drank. The unknown sire passed out along side his victim. As dawn approached he awoke to the sound of the garbage truck dumping a full load of the trash into the dump and burying the body of his victim. All he thought about was getting out of there before the sun rose over the mountain. MacGregor’s body would have simply decomposed and then combusted as the sun rose had he not been “buried.” He would have been just one more poor sod who fell into bad company on a drunk and had been mugged and left for dead. his remains discovered by some poor bloke on his own way home from a drunk, but his body covered with tons of trash constituted a burial albeit anything but a Christian burial. What is trash afterall but compost in it’s earliest stage.

The first he realized he was dealing with something different than the mother of all hangovers was when he went back to his quarters and showered. After stepping out of the shower he stood before the sink and wiped the mirror to shave. There was nothing there. He laughed…this must be madness, he thought, but instinctively went to the marks on his neck. It was supposed to be an epiphany moment…and it was …more or less. In that instant, he knew the truth but it would be a bit before he believed it.

He was thunderstruck. His senses were sharper than ever. Over the years he watched the odd horror film, he read Dracula before seeing the movie. Vampires are a myth, an invention of a storyteller. Still, he was moved to check his pulse. None. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, he was never any good at finding his pulse anyway. He felt his forehead. He must be feverish…not only was he not feverish, his skin was cold…his forehead and the dresser he was leaning against were the same temperature. There was no fever, there was nothing. He remembered the times he was lying in bed and couldn’t fall asleep because he could hear his heartbeat and feared he would hear it stop. He lay down on his bed and made himself still, listening for the regular rhythm that unsettled him as a boy. Only silence. So this was where his life was going…it was insane. He knew he must be insane…so he called on inner reserves. Skills that had gotten him through life’s trials.

His panic was short-lived. Allowing his resourceful mind to study this new situation, a plan germinated. He would accept the position in the Administration Department. Why not? It would give him access to the Medical School and all the whole blood he would need. (How much blood would he need?…he didn’t know…he needed to know.) New plan…He would accept the position in the Administration Department and he would spend all his spare time researching the Occult, most particularly, Vampires. Cook always said she learned to cook by reading cook books….he would adapt to his new life through study as he had every new challenge.

~~~Chapter 16 ~ Reverie

The meeting was over. MacGregor was dismissed and Spike and Giles were once again alone in the office considering how very strange their lives were over a dram or two of Scotch. It was fitting. Giles admitted that he finally must concede that the world was not black and white and no one should know that better than Spike. They would have to come up with a plan to deal with Binnemon. Damn it all, he really liked Binne but evidently he was a very bad man, a very bad man indeed…or maybe not. Maybe he was another ambiguous vampire caught up in something over which he had no control and was doing his best to remain decent too. Giles was suddenly feeling very old. Life was certainly easier when everything was black and white.

Footsteps in the hall? They glanced at each other. Now what?

There was a firm knock on the door before the door crashed open, “Come in, why don’t you, Xander. “ said Giles.

“Thank God you’re alright.” Xander was out of breath from taking the stairs two at a time.
“I got here as fast as I could. My car wouldn’t start…I think I flooded it…so I ran all the way here…almost five miles…..OK…three….but a lot of it was uphill.” He stopped to catch his breath, holding a stitch in his side, finally he announced, “MacGregor’s a vampire!”

He was answered only by silence, cross glances and Spike and Giles’ rolling eyes.

“What?”
~~~

Giles sent Xander down to start the car. The night turned chill and it would be nice to get into a warm car. It gave him time to speak to Spike.

“Spike, I need to talk to you. I wanted to find just the right words, but …words fail me. I’ll make it simple.”

At that moment , Giles thought Spike looked like he must have when he was a proper English gentleman. His sharp features were gentle and kind and his eyes shone with a sincere concern as he waited to hear what he had to say. Giles was grateful, it made things so much easier for him.

Giles took a deep breath and said, “Buffy is here, Spike.” If Spike was shocked, his expression gave no clue. “She’s staying in The Harborage, a cottage about a quarter kilometer beyond the Training Hall on the same road. Here’s the key.”

“Rupert, I…”

“Just go to her. She needs you.” He slipped on his jacket and sped out the door calling over his shoulder, “Lock the door behind you when you leave the office, will you? Thanks.”

~~~

Spike collapsed in the chair as Giles shut the door. His mind was reeling. Buffy is here?…and Giles is telling me to go to her?….gave me the soddin’ key? The man hates me, hates what I am, what I’ve done….what I’m capable of…he tried to kill me. He can’t be serious. He was half out of his mind with worry when we were just friends.

He lifted the key in his hand and stared at it as though it was going to tell him something….help him understand. Buffy is here. Abruptly, he was overcome with worry. I can’t do this….what can I say to her…She thinks I’m dead, gone…she made peace with it. Why should I go muckin’ it up now?

She’s goin’ to be pissed is what. She’s goin’ to kick my undead ass halfway across England and back again, sure. Maybe that’s what the watcher wants. Here I was thinkin’ we came to an understanding. Maybe this is his idea of a new and creative way to get me killed….

~~~

MacGregor was pensive when he left Mr. Giles office. They listened to him. They hadn’t killed him. Maybe his luck was holding out. Forty years…for forty years he had lived his lie. It was a good life. He knew more about Vampires than the average vampire. He laughed at the irony. If they offered it, he would hold a doctorate in Vampire Mythology. He approached his need for knowledge systematically. He actually drew up a study guide for himself and gathered material and studied vigilantly until he could quote chapter and verse of vampire lore. He learned about bloodlines and families and the most important historical vampires, and critical battles, causes and victors. He studied the skills and feeding habits and tribal hierarchy. Despite all inclinations to dismiss vampires as demons and only demons, he knew that he was part of a highly sophisticated society full of ancient traditions scrupulously observed under pain of…well …. pain.

For all his understanding of ritual and tradition, he never moved among other vampires. His was a sedentary life. He never even met another vampire until tonight. MacGregor was a dead man walking forty years among the living. For all he knew…he knew nothing as he remembered shaking hands with the heads of all the departments and accepting gifts and thanks and good wishes from students and staff and alumni as his retirement dinner was drawing to a close.

His retirement should have been a time of joy but there was no joy now for Malcolm MacGregor. Since his turning he knew no home but his quarters at the University. In all that time the only real problem had been his forever-youthful appearance and not even that until he reached 60 human years. Then it became the talk of the campus and so he reached back to his knowledge of theater and each morning began using whiteface on his comb to lightly gray his hair. His face was unchanged but silly humans accepted the hair change as at last a sign of aging and he was no longer the center of college gossip.

Even his peculiar eating habits had never been discovered. He arranged for his position in Administration to include overseeing the Medical School budget so discrepancies for human blood ordered and human blood delivered was never noticed. He was a vampire for forty years and had never known blood lust except for the morning of his awakening.

Curiosity about his vampire visage was maddening. He would feel the ridges on his forehead and prick his finger on his fangs and rant in frustration at the mirror that showed no reflection. He finally took photos of himself in true face with a Polaroid camera that he studied carefully looking for some sign of the face he remembered in them. Still not satisfied he decided to make a plaster mold of his demon face. At least it had form and texture. He painted it with flesh tones and glowing amber eyes. He had so successfully separated his sense of self from this monster that he was able to examine it with purely academic interest. One of his colleagues noticed it one day and he told him that it was a souvenir, a Devil Mask from South America.

Appeasing the demon in him had been a greater challenge. He found it harder to keep his demon from surging forth at minor aggravations and so he became a sportsman in his spare time. He bought all the necessary accoutrements, camping supplies, climbing gear, rifles and hunting knives and set off at every opportunity into the woods and hunting grounds of the British Isles and Europe and never used the gear. He would park his car and with nothing more than a backpack and a knife he would run like the wind all the while fine tuning his vampire senses taking in the sights and sounds and scents of all that was around him. He would locate the presence of large game and track it and hunt it down finally engaging it in beastly combat to release the rage of the demon.

If he came upon humans he would play with them as a cat plays with a mouse. Using his speed he would allow them flashing glances, just enough to confuse and frighten them. He would laugh as he listened to their chatter as they tried to decipher what they thought they were seeing, hearing. Mostly, they thought he was the wind in the trees, or a bird aflutter. Sometimes they broke camp and left convinced they’d been haunted. Whenever that happened he would wait until they were well gone and then rip their lodge to shreds, evidence for them upon their return that they had been stalked and were lucky to escape with their lives. The violence satisfied a need.

Over the years, he found that his need for these escapes became greater at changes of season and the waxing and waning of the moon and for that reason he planned to hunt more often at that time. It was critical to his continued well being that he keep control and for all those years, he was successful. Malcolm MacGregor was a civilized vampire.

He never killed a human, never knew a grave, never lived in squalor, never had a barroom fight. And now, here he was …never one to give up….trying to see a way to a new future. After the retirement it was necessary for him to give up his quarters. Fortunately, the University had been generous in allowing him time to search for a suitable flat. He passed as living among the living for forty years. Continuing to do so was the only acceptable option. He needed to find something that would provide lodging and a blood supply.

Of course, another option would be to really embrace his vampire self. He played at it regularly over the years, but a romp in the woods once a week hardly compared to becoming a creature of the night. He couldn’t get past the fact that he never killed a human. He hunted and killed animals, big animals, but they were dumb animals and were unable to plan a counter attack. He did not survive for forty years using his wits to die at the hand of human having one good day.

He knew he couldn’t consider subsisting on animal blood. The very idea was revolting, after all, he was above that.

MacGregor was an actor, he could be anything he wanted to be…a doctor of English Literature, who had forty years experience in the Administration of one of the most prestigious Universities in the modern world, he ought to be able to find a job. It was a new challenge and he needed to ponder the problem. He knew a solution would present itself.

He traveled south through Scotland searching the schools for an available position. The academic life was the only life he knew. Any headmaster would be thrilled to hire someone with his resume except that he obtained his doctorate in 1965. Even if he was a prodigy and was twenty (ridiculous) when he earned his degree he’d be 60 now and he still looked just over 30, a fine figure of a thirty-year-old at that! The future wasn’t going to be so easy after all.
~~

Xander never quieted for one moment during the short drive back to his car. Giles wondered in amazement at his capacity to go on without breathing. He left out no detail as he described his encounter with MacGregor. He told a tale of what was clearly gothic horror. After he narrowly escaped being spotted by Enfield as he left without his parcel, he decided to creep up on the crypt and try to see in the window.

Giles smiled as he envisioned Xander dressed in a mid nineteenth century constables uniform “creeping” with CAT LIKE TREAD up to the mausoleum.
Xander went on to tell of the well-worn path to the crypt…he was sure that was important. This looked like an abandoned cemetery, why would the walk be cleared? After listening to make sure he was alone, he took a chance and went around to the side and peeked in the window…which was clean, by the way. It looked lived in! Really, lived in. Well-worn books on what looked like a writing table…. from his viewpoint they looked like the kind of stuff that used to be in the Council’s library…when there was a council, of course. There were clothes hanging on nails or spikes that had been driven into the cracks where the drawers were.
“Drawers?”
“Not drawers? You know what I mean. There a sections for several coffins in the walls… aren’t they drawers?”
“No Xander, when you bury someone you expect them to stay buried. Drawers would imply that you might want to take them out from time to time. Those sections are supposed to be sealed.” Giles explained.
“Oh.”
But that wasn’t the worst of it. While he was looking through the window, he noticed movement…on the cot. By now his breath was fogging up the window and he wanted to wipe it to see but knew if he did it might draw attention so he just squinched up his eye to try to see better. Sure enough, when he was able to see what moved, he was able to make out a bumpy forehead and fangs. He forgot all about being armed with a stake and holy water and opened his mouth in a silent scream and fell back on his backside. He scrambled to gain his footing when he tripped over the cooler that Enfield delivered and knocked it over…out fell several pints of blood in bags, labeled like they are in hospitals.
He ran back to his car and jumped in the driver’s side and turned the key in the ignition and started pumping his foot on the gas when he saw the vamp heading out of the cemetery. He dropped down in the seat hoping not to be seen with his foot still pumping the gas pedal. After several minutes he found the courage to lift his head and saw no one. He tried to start the car and was met with the sound of the little engine that couldn’t. He realized he’d flooded it. He had to warn Giles and ran to the Administration Building.
Now, that was what really happened. Xander’s version sounded more like a scene from a James Bond film with Xander playing the lead.
“I was half way here before I realized the vampire I saw was MacGregor. So, from your reaction, I guess you and Spike already knew.”

Giles’ voice was compassionate as he said, “Yes and no. Actually, Spike had him spotted straight away…vampire senses and all that. So don’t be too hard on yourself Xander, although I do wish you’d told me what you intended to do. You’re too valuable to the team now, it would be a shame to lose you over something so trivial.” Of course, in part Giles was thinking that a great deal of time and money had gone into training Xander and it would be a waste of resources. Xander took it to mean that he was really good at his job and too valuable to lose…and that was all right with Giles.

~~~
An apprehensive Spike walked to the cottage trying to pull himself together. After a century and a half he still remembered anxiety so intense his shirt shook with each heart beat and the only sound he heard was the pounding rush of blood in his ears. The memory was so vivid he stopped and checked for a pulse. The lights were on in the cottage. Was his lady afraid of the dark? Not bloody likely….careless, more like. Did Giles tell her that he was here? Damn. Why didn’t I ask?

Can’t just unlock the door and walk in…if Giles didn’t tell her the sight of me could scare her to death, she still thinks I’m a goner. He thought a minute…I’ll knock…..No…if she answers the door and I’m standing there and he hasn’t told her… same bloody thing..

Shit!…settle down, Spike… He sat on the doorstep, took out his cigarettes and lit one up. His hand was shaking. Oh yeah, he thought, I’m the Big Bad, I am…. and laughed.

The cigarette smoke drifted into the air circling his head and floated into the partially open window. Call it Fate, call it Kismet…it doesn’t matter. The familiar smell of cigarette smoke drifted into the cottage and into Buffy’s sleeping senses. Buffy was always a dreamer. Slayer dreams were vital. She once asked Giles if being a dreamer was prerequisite to becoming a slayer. He laughed and told her it probably was and she should be glad for her dreams, they saved her life more than once, but all her dreams were not Slayer dreams. Her dreams of Spike kept him alive for her. She welcomed them, even wished for them. Sometime the dreams were so vivid she would wake half expecting him to be lying alongside her. They would make love and she would fall asleep in his arms. Sometimes they would just talk. In the morning, she would remember everything. She always knew he knew her better than she knew herself. Dream Spike gave her insight and it didn’t matter that she understood that now, in the dreams he was just a tool her mind used to keep her on an even keel. She was happy to have Spike any way she could have him.

Spike peeked through the curtains…maybe I’ll spot her.

Through lace curtains, he saw her curled in an old fashioned chair. She was so tiny and she looked so vulnerable. Just looking at her….made his chest feel heavy and he stifled a sob. Watcher says she needs me. Never thought I’d see her again. He stood up, straightened his shoulders…All right, you silly prat. Here it is, everything you ever dreamed of…

He turned the key and entered the cottage. Taking off his duster, he hung it on the coat tree by the door and walked over to where she slept and dropped to his knees beside her and closed his eyes … taking in her scent. For a moment he was afraid to open them….afraid she’d be gone…afraid that this was just another dream.

She was alone. Only the sound of her soft breathing and steady heartbeat filled his senses. He took a turn around the cottage taking in its ambiance of another time. Then he gathered her tray and carried it to the kitchen and then went into the bedroom and turned down the bed. After extinguishing all the lights, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. She stirred, and muttered something but did not wake. So much for slayer senses, he thought, then again, maybe somewhere in the recesses of her mind she remembers that I’m no threat. He laid her on the bed and drew the covers over her. Settling himself on the window seat, he rested, never taking his eyes from her. He watched her breathe, listened to the steady thrum of her heart.

Buffy mewed in her sleep…he sat up …She was muttering….something garbled…he couldn’t make it out. She must have upped the thermostat. The room was uncommonly warm. It didn’t surprise him when she kicked off the covers. Her scent … drifted to him. In her restlessness, her nightgown pulled up. He could see the swell of her breasts and her hand resting across her flat belly. This could be enough, he thought…just to see her…to watch her. Not enough for the demon though. It was consumed with want, punishing him with desire. His love for Buffy was so much more than just lust, he thought, as he reached into his pants to adjust against the pressure building there. Spike watched spellbound as she moaned and slipped her hand beneath the silky white patch that covered her curls and watched as her fingers moved caressing herself….and whispered, “Spike…”

Bloody hell. He stood and walked beside where she lay and saw a small smile came to her face….he tilted his head and furrowed his brow in confusion…she was asleep…he knew…her heart rate was unchanged. When she spoke and her voice was husky and low, “Don’t just stand there, Spike, come to me.” He didn’t move. She was asleep…he knew….but she was dreaming. Buffy beckoned to him and said, “William. Don’t make me beg.” Without a word, he moved to sit beside her. She pouted, her voice never above a whisper, she said, “No William, come to me…, please.”

Rising to her knees on the bed she knelt next to him, raised her arms around his shoulders and gently pulled him to her. Speechless, he returned the touch. He was afraid to speak lest he wake her. Her hands slid down his shoulders and along his arms and locked hands as she directed him to kneel with her, face to face. Spike, the Big Bad…the great lover with years of carnal experience was helpless how to respond….so enchanted was he. Her fingers danced along his face and brushed against his lips. Finally she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his in a sweet kiss that teased with a lick and nipped as she pulled away.

She broke the silence as she reached to undo his belt buckle when she said, “I don’t remember if I ever called you William before…and if I did it was probably just to be cruel. I need to make up for that.” Spike opened his eyes and started to speak. She raised a finger to his lips and said, “Shhhh,” and then kissed him again as her hands undid each button of his jeans. Spike gasped, wondering how long he could restrain himself from releasing Buffy from this spell. “Did you know that I know everything there is to know about you William Chesterfield Masterson?” she whispered as she slid his pants over his hips.

Spike froze. No one had spoken his name since he died.

“After you…(her voice caught in her throat)….after I…lost you, the ache was unbearable. No one understood. No one. The others told me to move on, find another life and I tried….I’m sorry, Spike …..but I did try….but… you would never leave me alone. You were always there. Everywhere. Silent. Watching. Never judging with only love in your eyes.” She raised her eyes to meet his and said, “At least, like this, we can be together.”

He was completely undone. He crushed his lips to hers as they twined arms around one another and fell to the bed. One kiss followed another as their hands stroked over familiar territory seeking those places that gave such pleasure in the past. Spike ran his hands up her sides, his thumbs teasing her nipples and slipped her nightgown over her head and moved to position himself over her when he realized his pant legs were still stuck at his boots….he roared, “Bloody hell…why do I wear these bloody boots?”

The sound shattered the sanctity of the moment as Buffy laughed and Spike tried to stifle a laugh as he untied the offending footwear and flung them across the room. He turned to her again and their eyes met. “No more talk,” he said. There would be time for talking later.

As they kissed his hand slipped to her breast. He squeezed tenderly and then moved his mouth to the hard little nipple. He took it in his mouth and swirled his tongue over it as Buffy moaned in pleasure. His hand slid down her leg and between her legs. She was so moist…so bloody hot….so swollen….so aroused and Spike never stopped telling her so. Buffy cried out as his fingers stroked the length of her opening in the sweet slippery essence and met her clit that was as hard as he was. She raised her hips to his touch, but he denied her and continued the slow torment with his hands, his tongue and his words. She wanted him so badly she grabbed his long, hard, thick cock with hunger and brutality. The skin felt like velvet under her hand as she pumped in a swirling movement up and down his length. Her clasp was just tight enough to make him groan as her hand slid up and down over the now weeping head.

Buffy whispered, “No more teasing,” and turned to Spike to take his face in her hands. She kissed him tenderly and pulled away only long enough to run her tongue over his lips and then resume with a deeper kiss as her tongue sought his. Her fingertips scrolled down his cheeks as she slipped her finger between his lips. His throat rumbled in a deep feral growl. She smiled around the kiss and in hushed tones said fervently, “I … love … you,” as her fingers continued their journey down his neck to his chest where they passed over hard nipples to his waist.

“Buffy….this really is just a dream, isn’t it?” He whispered into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him and turned her head to lead her into another passionate kiss. His cock slid between her slick thighs and she squirmed to press her favorite spot against his favorite spot. She set the rhythm and he followed her lead. Slow and sweet and completely maddening. He needed release and if she kept up these ministrations, he’d finish first…and he wasn’t even inside her yet…. When he could take no more, he rolled her on to her back and poised himself above her. His prick was throbbing with urgency. He wanted more than anything to be gentle, but he could wait no longer. With his arms and legs quivering with need he pushed himself into her wet, hot folds as she raised to meet him.

He stopped, “Fuck!” Buffy raised her legs to wrap them around him and pulled him in deeper. Spike begged, “Oh god, Buffy, please….I’m gonna….agh, DON’T move…Bloody Christ, just for a second…please, don’t move.”

She felt the delirious pleasure of him filling her…pushing his hardness against her womb, his coarse curly hair brushing against her clit, his balls tight against her bum. She knew he was fighting to keep control and she thrilled at her effect on him…it only brought her closer. He began to thrust again. He filled her so completely that each forward thrust rubbed her clit even more and she cried out in pleasure.

No longer slow and sweet but frantic and pounding as both craved climax.

Buffy got there first crying out in squeals and mews of pleasure as she felt the indescribable thrill begin somewhere deep inside and spread down her legs as her orgasm began. The rhythmic throbs inside her massaged Spike’s own vibration and he paused as she rode out her climax. The contractions were so intense; she fleetingly lost control of her limbs. As they lessened in strength she writhed against him to keep it going for as long as she could. Two more strokes and he spilled himself into her as he growled his release. He relaxed on top of her and buried his face in her neck planting kisses everywhere tasting her sweet saltiness. She returned the kisses and stroked his back, her hot hands pleasuring wherever she touched.

As he rolled off of her she curled into his side and cloaked her leg over him resting her hand on his belly. He wrapped his arm around her drawing her closer yet and his hand alternated between stroking the swell of her breast and running his fingers through her wiry hairs. Her knee rested against his wet still half-hard cock. She kept moving in a slow rhythm soothing them both as they came down from their glorious ride.

“You are always with me Spike,” Buffy said, “in my heart…in my imagination, you’ve always been with me….we will be together for real one day, I know it…..I tried to explain it to Giles….you know?…why I’m content now?….to wait? He doesn’t understand.”

Spike listened as she went on explaining how much she loved him and had finally forgiven herself for not telling him until it was too late and her plan to go on the best she could without him until it was time for them to be together again. He was so filled with happiness he was sure he could feel his heart beat, but he couldn’t let her go on thinking she was dreaming. He pulled away from her to get out of bed. Buffy held him close, “Where do you think you’re going?

“I have to leave, pet. It’ll soon be morning,” he replied.

“No, Spike, please don’t go. Let me fall asleep in your arms. Please don’t end this perfect night.”

“If I stay you’ll wake with a big pile of dust, luv….that’s an Eastern window.”

“No! See! It’s an old fashioned World War II blackout shade…., during the war they had to keep all the lights out or use….”

He laughed as he interrupted her, “I know what a blackout shade is luv, ….was there at the time, remember?…

She scrunched her face at him and pulled the shade down. “There!” She came back to bed obviously intent on not going to sleep and said, “So much fuss from my dream man, but anything to keep you happy and keep you here. You know we always fall asleep together in my dreams.” She crawled into the bed and pushed him onto his back and straddled him. He was already hard but she didn’t let him inside. Two can tease. Instead she rubbed herself against him, his little vixen, grinning as her breasts dangled in his face. His hands rested on her hips, his thumbs stroking down her belly to between her legs as his tongue reached to lap at her nipples…even more erotic as they drew into hard little points that were easier to reach and suck.

Buffy dropped down and devoured his mouth with her own. Spike grasped her hips firmly and lifted her enough to let her know that it was time to get down to business. She raised herself higher on her knees, never breaking the kiss. With Buffy raised, his cock sprang up and with a wiggle here and a wiggle there, Not-So-Little Spike found his way home. The moment he filled her stunned them both into stillness. Awesome. It just felt so right. They were connected; completely, utterly bound to one another…and again they began another slow ride to oblivion.

Their bodies were soaked in sweat. She came first and then he flipped her over to finish on top. They reveled in each other’s secretions, laughing, sliding, and talking about it being time for a shower. She snuggled against him again as before and again told him how much she loved him, needed him, wanted only to be with him.

Spike was serious now. “Buffy…” he began…”you have to know that this is real, luv. It is not a dream…. I’m real, pet…I’m really here.” As he spoke, he felt her breathing become more regular and realized that as he talked she was drifting to sleep. He suspected that she was having talks with him for some time now just as he had been having talks with her… in dreams. The shower could wait until morning. He kissed her forehead and whispered, "I love you,” and settled into a peaceful slumber too.

~~~

~~~Chapter 17 ~ Thickening
Binne was their leader and as such he never expected his charges to do anything he hadn’t already done himself first. See? In some ways he was soddin’ noble. He hated the words like minions and fledges. That was tradition and he wanted no part of it. He had tradition shoved down his throat and beaten across his back too many times to want anything to do with it. Besides, he thought, minions and fledges carried with them the idea of a kind of a contract…you take care of me and I’ll take care of you. Well, he didn’t want anything to do with that either. Up until not so terrible long ago he was part of a pair.

Two only. That was enough, he thought. They watched each others back and grifted together. Him and Fiona done all right that way but now he was alone and the thought of joinin’ up with any of these losers sickened him. So, what were they then? Employees? He snickered to himself. If one dusted, no loss. It only meant there were more spoils to go around. The plan was brilliant and he only needed them long enough to help him test out the plan…work out the kinks using their worthless hides with less danger to himself.
Patience. That was the real brick and mortar of his plan. Hell, they had all the time in the world, didn’t they? Back when he got this job, he was down on his luck. There were some hard times. After Fiona was gone he hooked up with a gang that made their way here from Ireland and the pickings were few and far between, mostly because the one who called himself Master was a dolt. So Binne took off on his own…figured it was better that way, and then he saw an ad in the paper for guards at a new girls school. Turned out they weren’t looking for muscle. What they really wanted were gentlemen who would really take an interest in the girls and their safety. Mr. Giles wanted everyone to take a personal interest in the school and he was hiring older fellows, mostly widowed and living alone who missed contact with their own children. He could do that! Patience.

It was fuckin’ genius. He was an old man when he was turned and had been a vampire a good long while and now, at last, he had it made. What better life? Immortal, regular meals and pretty young things to look at…taste…and more if things went the way he wanted. Things had gone well so far. Some anemia among the locals…nobody remembered the bite…or the fuck… and if they did, they weren’t telling. He laughed. He hadn’t got any in years, now he fucked regular even if it was with a limp fish…it was still better than a wank anyday. It was a kind god indeed who gave the vampire thrall. Yeah…patience. Take your time old man…and everything falls into place.

One by one he turned the others. Nobody missed them. Now he had an even dozen…and they all worked at the school. He needed to take care and be mindful not to get his victims mixed up…didn’t want that anemia to become a problem. He might even start keeping records of who was drained when and establish a rotation schedule. He laughed as he thought they were doing so well and they hadn’t even tested the waters with the girls at the school yet. The school was his primary goal. The school with its closed campus and isolation …and if one school was perfect, maybe one day they could branch out to others. If something did go amiss it would be relatively easy to contain. Ah, ah, ah…Binne m’boy…don’t be getting grand ideas now.

He grew pensive. The thing was…these girls were different. He didn’t understand how exactly…strong …mystical.

Even working evening and night hours when no one was about, it was hard to find out what it was that made school any different from other girls schools. He poked around plenty but he could never find anything.

Tonight he was going to make the first contact with one of the girls… find out if they were susceptible to thrall. He felt skittish about it; he didn’t know why, but something … something….

He circled around to the front of Tudor Hall and checked that there were no cars parked around the building. Sometimes one of the teachers would hold evening club meetings at the dorm and occasionally the students had visitors…although it was after 9 p.m. and it was against the rules. Still, he needed to make sure…..Good…all clear.

He unlocked the door to the lobby, walked in and heard girls chattering and music playing down the hall. He went the other way….toward the parlor, really just a room that used to be an office, now it was the room where the girls were allowed to accept visitors. Only one light was on and there in the dim light, curled in one of the cushy armchairs was Jemima Armstrong… alone.

What luck, he thought….now he could make his roster alphabetical as a wide grin spread across his face.

The girl looked up from the book she was reading, “Mr. Binnemon, what are you doing here?”

“Miss Armstrong…are you the one who called about a prowler?” he said in his most protective and grandfatherly voice…
~~~
Spike was in that netherworld between sleep and wakefulness comforted by the warmth of his slayer and thoughts of possibilities. He sensed it was close to sunrise, and instinctively he became more alert. He contemplated how Buffy might react to him in the full light of day but for now he was content to rest in this WWII blackout shaded room (he couldn’t help but smile) with his arms around her until she woke.

Abruptly, the serenity was vanquished by an official sounding version of “God Save the Queen” blaring from a radio somewhere in the house. Buffy startled and thrashed about the bed for a moment gaining her equilibrium when she realized she wasn’t alone. She jumped from the bed, quite literally and grabbed the sheets with her as she backed away from the bed. In her flailing, she’d managed to smack Spike square in the nose with all her slayer strength. He grabbed his face and yelled “Oi!’ as he fell out of the other side of the bed not in the least concerned about his nakedness as blood poured from his nose.

Buffy was screaming, not the high pitched, blood curdling scream one associates with scenes from horror films. No, there was nothing dainty or girlish about Buffy’s scream. It was more of a harsh sounding war cry that wreaked terror in the hearts of any demon or vampire within 20 kilometers, AND wild life, insects or any living creature. Spike responded in kind…and there they stood screaming at each other, eyes ablaze.

Spike reached for the light.

Buffy, hoarse from the scream, yelled, “I saw that. Don’t move, whatever you are!” as she reached and yanked the finial from the headboard and came away with a sharp pointed stake with a well polished pineapple carved at the other end, “I’m armed.”

The light went on just as Spike was yelling, “Bloody hell woman, have you gone mad?” trying to be heard over the blaring anthem.

She let out another war whoop, this time in shock, for before her stood her soul mate. This was not how she imagined their reunion. She had a mental picture of a slight head tilt and brilliant blue eyes gazing at her full of love above a fully clothed vampire. Maybe even some music in the background, certainly not the news, weather, jingles and “God Save the Bloody Queen” on a British radio station.

This one had blood dripping from his nose smearing whatever parts of his naked self he touched in his scuffle and his climb onto the bed to get closer. His face was screwed up in an expression forged somewhere between love, hate, rage, disbelief and…. terror …as he tried to keep his equilibrium on the very old, very soft, very springy mattress and spring set.. “For the love of …Buffy, it’s me! I know things were a bit dodgey between us when we parted, but you did say you loved me. Had a change of heart then, have you?”

The sight of him standing there in all his Michaelangelo’s David perfect body glory with his Willie dancing as he tried to balance, she finally caved and started to laugh, “Oh God, I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I’m still in the institution and everything is fantasy… making my dreams my reality.” The laughing stopped and abruptly turned to tears as she wrapped her arms around herself and rocked in despair.

Spike ran his forearm across his nose to wipe the blood and climbed off the bed to approach her slowly…warily. He hesitated as he placed his hand on her shoulder. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said “Buffy,”…, it’s me….”as he reached to take the stake from her hand. She jerked away from the touch.
She lifted her head, shook her hair and threw her shoulders back as she steeled herself against this fantasy.

“No, you’re not!” she said and dropped the sheet as she began to walk around the bed.

Spike stopped her and put both hands on her shoulders, turned her to him and looked her square in the eye, or at least tried to…she averted his gaze and tried to pass around him. “No, Slayer, not after what you said last night. I’m holding you to your word this time. I know you meant it.”

Buffy lifted her eyes to meet his and she was able to see his soul in that deep pool of blue, filled with love. There was no bottom. “You called me Slayer….. Spike? Spike, can this be true?” still shaking her head, “It can’t be true. You were lost in the Hellmouth forever.” As her knees gave way, Spike wrapped her in his arms and sat her down on the bed. They rocked together saying nothing. It was she who broke the silence when she asked, “How? When?”

There they were, the very questions he had no good answers for. He so didn’t want to go there. It was the whole reason he didn’t try to find her sooner. What could he say to her that wouldn’t hurt her? Make her angry?…and not sound like a lie?

Spike filled his lungs with air as he prepared to speak. “Always been an impulse kind of guy….well, not always – always…but you know what I mean. Sometimes it worked for me…got me what I wanted…what I needed. Sometimes it got me in a whole lot of shit. Yeah?” He paused and looked at her trying to gain the strength he needed to go on. “Buffy, I love you. I know you know that so please…”

“Spike….if you are Spike,” Buffy interrupted. “Tell me. How is this possible?” she pleaded. “Please convince me I’m not insane.”

So, he told her the sometimes amusing, sometimes tragic tale of his reincarnation, Buffy stared at him. Stared at him so hard and so long that he became uncomfortable. The kind of staring that makes you wonder if you have something stuck on your teeth…or worse. Not able to stand it anymore, he just came out with an aggravated, “What?”

“If…and understand this is a big IF, I believe you, it means you’ve been back since three months after we closed the Hellmouth?”

He nodded, “Yeah, more or less…”

She rephrased, sounding more like his Slayer every minute, “You’ve been back for two years?”

He nodded again, “Somethin’ like…maybe a little longer.” He realized what was coming one nanosecond too late.

Buffy hauled off with a roundhouse right straight to his nose! “Oi! That hurts!” he yelled as he licked at
the blood dripping toward his lip. “…always my doze! Why does it always have to be my doze?”

Buffy gave him a handful of tissues and said, “I’m sorry! It’s the one thing I knew you’d understand. That’s all I have to say on the subject! Consider it closed!”
~~~~
They shared stories of their time apart over a leisurely breakfast of toast and tea interrupted only by long, slow wet kisses. For all and all, Buffy led a very normal girly life since Sunnydale fell. She admitted she missed the occasional apocalypse, but patrolling with the young slayers was fun. She got to be really bossy and she knew she was always at her best when she was bossy. That got some snickers from Spike. Then she told him she was teaching the girls the techniques that he taught the first potentials and made sure they knew the lessons drawn up for them were written by a Master Vampire…HER Master Vampire, who chose to fight on the side of good. She paused and waited for him to raise his eyes to hers. When their eyes met, she said, “I was so proud of you….” After a moment she wiped her eyes, laughed and said…”I AM proud of you!”

There were stories of what Dawn was up to and what was happening with Willow and Oz. Buffy thought it was funny that they always link their names. They’re not…linked, that is, but they do work well together when he’s around. The rest of the time he travels the country trying to be a musician and yes, he still lives in his van.

When the conversation made its way to Dawn, Buffy jumped and said, “Oh Geez! I’m in big trouble!”

Spike gave her a confused look.

“I forgot to call Dawn to let her know I arrived safely.”

“Ah!” Spike nodded. “You ARE in trouble. Bit is a force to be reckoned with. You’d better call right now.”

“Right. What time is it?”

Spike tried to answer, but Buffy kept running on. “OK, it’s 5:20 here which makes it somewhere around noon/1 o’clock there. That’s good. I’ll call her on her cell…she always has it with her.” She was talking as she rushed around the cottage looking for her purse and her own cell phone to speed dial the number. She was quiet for a minute listening for a ring as she climbed onto Spike’s lap and ran her fingers through his hair as he possessively wound his arms around her waist. Then she nodded and smiled and silently mouthed the word “ringing.”

“Oh, damn. It’s going over to voice mail. I should leave a message. She’ll want to know that you’re here!” Buffy said.

“Yeah, and she’ll think you’re off your nutter. We should wait to tell her until she can see me in the flesh.”

“Are you crazy? We don’t have any idea how soon that will be. She will kill me if she found out you were with me and I didn’t tell her.”

“You think? …Yeah, I suppose you’re right. OK. We wait to tell her until we can both talk to her. Agreed?” Spike smiled.

“Agreed.” Buffy closed her phone and put it back in her bag.

What neither of them realized was that the whole time they were arguing they were recording a voice message. It may be a bit garbled, but Dawn was in for a big surprise.
~~~
Out of the blue, Spike commented his nose was feeling a little better and Buffy gave him a puzzled look and after a moment, she had an inkling of where he was going with his comment and said, “Um…didn’t I say the subject was closed?”

“Yeah,” he said, drawing out the single syllable, “you did, but maybe I’m not ready to close it.”

She blinked at him and said, “What’s there to talk about? You came back and then your body came back and you didn’t call me or try to contact me and today I find out that you even swore Andrew to secrecy, for which, by the way, I am so going to hurt him. What? You want me to punish you some more? The bloody nose wasn’t enough?” She stood up and spread her legs slightly apart as though she were bracing herself for a little rough and tumble without the nice ending. She was on a roll. “OK then, I’m ready….”

He wore that self-satisfied, look of certainty that he was so good at that said, “You lose” before he even opened his mouth. She held her ground, but looked guarded. “So,” she said, “out with it. What’s on your mind.”

He sighed and said, “Well, I did try to contact you.”

“You did not!” she said, “I’ve been dying inside ever since you….died!…Don’t you go trying to turn this around, mister.”

He answered, “I cannot deny that I didn’t do it in a timely manner. Of that I am guilty and you have every right to your self righteous attitude.”

“Damn right I do,” she chimed in.

“However,… I did try to find you in Rome,” Spike said. Buffy looked wary. “Went to your place and Andrew led me to believe that you were heavily involved with a man…well, the man part, that’s a matter of opinion, I suppose.” Buffy was starting to look like someone had poked her balloon and the air was leaking out. “I was not to be denied though and traipsed all over Rome until I found you.”

“You found me?” Buffy said weakly.

“I most certainly did.” Spike was playing this scene up to the hilt, he was just hoping it didn’t backfire on him. “I found you shaking your booty all over a dance floor with the greasiest grease ball ever to exist.” Buffy started to speak, but Spike held up his hand and went on, “I tried to get your attention, but you only had eyes for him.”

Buffy stared at him trying to gauge the right thing to say. “I…Spike, I…,” she stumbled over words trying to find an explanation.

Of course, Spike failed to mention that he was there with Angel and they were actually on a job for Wolfram & Hart…and that Peaches went and started a brawl so there was no chance to connect with her, and while he knew it was cruel, in the game of life and love you can’t always play fair. Evil afterall.

He let her squirm a bit and then reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her to him in a tender hug and rubbed his nearly ever-present erection against her and said, “Tell you what, Slayer. You really will consider the matter of my error in timing in getting back to you closed, and I will try not to think about “he who shall not be named” having his hands and what-all else all over your beautiful little body.” Spike was satisfied that he won this poker hand.

Then Buffy threw down an ace. She cocked her head and said, “You’re right Spike. We do need to put all these things to rest. Just need to get a couple of things straight.” She ground her groin against his. “I’m forgiving you for letting me think you were truly dead for two years.”

Now it was Spike’s turn to look wary. “…for letting me cry myself to sleep every night and wish myself dead so that I could be with you.”

He was beginning to understand he might have made a teensy mistake. “For fighting at Angel’s side all that time when you so completely hated him and for not coming to fight at my side when for all you knew I could have been facing another apocalypse.”

This was so not good. “and you’ll forgive me for letting a slippery lothario spend gobs of money on me and take me to see wonderful things all over the world and stay in the finest hotels and inns and dress me in the most beautiful and expensive clothes and NEVER TOUCH ANY PART OF ME BUT MY HAND, and then, rarely.”

Shit! He overplayed his hand and now he was cleaned out! He started thinking about letting go of Buffy and protecting his nose.

He decided to take a chance, “Buffy…now, I know you very well….and I know you are a woman with…um…needs. You really went all that time without having him…um… touch you? I may hate the bastard, but I have to concede that he might be pleasing to a feminine eye in a slimy sort of way.”

First Buffy’s face turned a kind of pink and then deepened to almost purple. She ground her teeth so hard her jaw twitched. “Arrrrgh!”

Next thing, Spike was on the floor clutching his bits wishing she punched him in the nose. It never occurred to him that she would knee him.

“Stupid fucking vampire….like I could ever do that with ANYONE after you,” she said as she stormed off into the bedroom and slammed the door.
~~~
Giles was almost cheerful as he wiped the crumbs from his toast and jam off the table. His cottage was quiet. No overnight houseguests. It was a brilliant October morning, so brilliant that he decided to walk to the Administration Building. He solemnly chastised himself; admitting that he really should walk it every day. A brisk two-mile walk in the morning was not unreasonable and would be good for him.

He realized gleefully that it would play right into Mrs. Reed’s little joke. She had the secretaries all thinking of him as the typical stodgy English gentleman and teasing him about it. He would just tell them he was taking a morning constitutional. That ought to keep them going for weeks. He smiled as he stepped out of the door and locked it behind him. He liked giving them fodder for delight. It never interfered with their work and it was certainly good for morale.

As he strolled along, he wondered how Buffy and Spike were making out….ooh, poor choice of words.
How they were doing…then his thoughts considered what they were doing and decided to think about something else…evidently thinking about them at all just now would only lead to thoughts he never wanted to have. He considered Buffy the daughter he never had and to think of her with the vampire ….ooh …again! He would think of something else…

It was a beautiful day and the sun was full up. Once he left his driveway most of the walk would not be shaded. No matter….but he was glad he wore a lighter jacket instead of one of his wools. What IS in this briefcase? Why is it so heavy? Maybe he should pare down what he brings home from now on, after all. He didn’t need everything with him at night.

MacGregor….he would think about what he was going to do about MacGregor.

It used to be so easy. Well, once he got over his rebellious period…then, it became easy….black and white anyway. Good guys in tweed suits and bad guys had fangs. Then the bad guys went all weird and came with souls…even fought for a soul. Insane. Nothing to do but accept them…and now he was sanctioning one living with his slayer.

Doomed. He was doomed.

By now perspiration was starting to run in rivulets down his back, fortunately there was a bit of a breeze so his face wasn’t dripping yet. Don’t want to see anyone and not look fit…need to set an example and all that.

Funny, he never realized that the Administration Building was up hill before. It might even be more than two miles, but he clocked it once. Hmmm, have to check the speedometer or whatever the thing is called that counts mileage…odometer… that’s right.

Maybe I’ll just stop and admire this garden for a moment….give me a chance to catch my breath.

MacGregor. Remarkably well educated. Never bitten a human yet he subsists only on human blood. Damned clever. I could certainly use the help. Of course, I couldn’t let the other members of the Council know. They never understood the alliances with Angel and Spike…to find out that I’ve found another “good” vampire would be too much for them to handle.

Oh good, there’s a bench there under that tree. I’ll sit for a minute.

Binnemon. What a disappointment he turned out to be, but here we go again, another remarkably clever vampire. If it weren’t for MacGregor, I dare say it would be a very long time before he and his minions were found out. Now I’ve got to think of what to do about that. Good Lord, my entire staff of night guards is vampires. This is a nightmare. I can’t let this information get out. There would be a panic among the girls….the rest of the council would shut the school down.

Hmmmm, wouldn’t it be nice if someone came driving by. I could say that I was walking because there was a problem with my car…no one needs to know that I am in terrible shape. He took out his hanky and polished his glasses that had steamed up.

This wasn’t a good start to the day.

He trudged on working his problems out as he walked. He found that the more he concentrated on the problems the less he thought about the walk, his stride evened out, he relaxed and he began to enjoy himself. By the time he reached his office he was invigorated albeit very moist and met Mrs. Reed with a cheerful smile, “Good morning, Adele.”

She looked surprised at his chipper mood, “Good morning to you, sir,” she said returning the smile.

Yes, I think it is going to be a good day after all.

“You’ve got quite a pile of correspondence to go through and ….let me see…yes, five…no… six calls to return before you start the business of the day.” Her voice was cheery.

Maybe not.
~~~

Many thanks to beta: melanie

Chapter 18

Buffy was furious. She hadn’t been this angry since before they closed the Hellmouth. Except for Giles betrayal, no one got her mad like Spike. She paced back and forth frustrated at the lack of space in the small room. She was grinding her teeth and making fists angry at herself that she backed herself into a corner. If her brain was working right she would have gone out the door. At least then she could have run twenty or thirty miles to blow off this anger. As it was now, she was trapped and she so needed to punch something, kick something….BREAK something. Spike!…No, she would never go there again. She did that once and lived with regret ever since.

What the hell is wrong with him? She yelled in her head. Why would he do such a stupid thing? It was all gonna be OK. He explained his insecurities about calling me…I told him it was over. I’d forget it…

She stopped and spoke to herself in the mirror. “He doesn’t believe me,” and then went on with the internal discussion…He thinks he still has to play these silly games with me to prove something to himself…or me….whatever. GOD! He is such a stupid vampire.

With this insight she lost some of the steam from her rage and sat down on the bed. “Now what do I do?” she said aloud.
She laid down and put her hands over her eyes… “Is this going to be our life? Will we never trust each other?” She kicked off her shoes and settled in. She wasn’t going to open that door for him for a long, long time.

~~~
Laying there on the floor waiting for the pain to subside gave Spike time to think…something he probably should have done before. She was right. Damn it, she was always right. No, she wasn’t…but this time…

He knew she wouldn’t come out of the bedroom anytime soon and he knew he didn’t dare go near her. Not for awhile anyway. It had been a long time, but he knew when she was fired up it was best to steer clear. It had all been so perfect …well, except for the near staking…but he understood that…and now he went and fucked it all up by being a Class A jerk.

When the sun cleared the front entry of the little cottage Spike stepped out for a cigarette. There on the doorstep lay a rather large wicker basket that tickled his nostrils with the pleasant aroma of roast chicken. He lifted the cloth covering it and saw several dishes carefully covered and two bottles of wine…and one, two…four bags of human blood. There was a note in the basket as well.

Your evening meal. Please return the dishes to the basket and leave outside the door. The basket will be picked up in the morning and another delivered at that time. If you have questions, call Millie at Ext. 2103.

“Giles, you old romantic. Wait until Buffy sees this.” He said delighted, until he realized they were still in the middle of their row. After a moment, he smiled to himself, carried the basket to the kitchen and said, “Thanks, old man. I owe you one.”

He put the bottle of white wine and three bags of the blood in the fridge and turned on the oven to a low 200degrees and put the dishes of vegetables and roast chicken in the oven to keep warm and warmed up the blood for himself while he tended to his plan. Then he tinkered around the kitchen finding dishes and glasses and …. “Fancy that, real linen napkins.” He set the little table in the living room and went out side the cottage, took out his knife and cut a bunch of flowers and brought them in and arranged them in a vase he found under the sink. While he was puttering around, he heard Buffy go into the bathroom. Progress, he thought. She ran the shower and after a few minutes went back into the bedroom. While he was making a nice fire in the fireplace he wondered if she wanted him to go to her in the shower. That brought back some very dark memories and he decided to stick with the current plan.

Happy with the fire, he stopped and looked around the room. Yes, pillows on the floor by the table in front of the fire was a nice touch. “I’ll light the candles when I get out of the shower, and then I’ll call on my lady… and hope to God she’ll still have me.”

~~~
Binnemon was euphoric. Never, in life or death had he ever felt like this.
He was an old man when he was turned and the turning made him feel young and vibrant and strong. No… it did make him young and vibrant and strong in every way but how he looked. Once he’d gotten over the shock of what had happened to him he was angry. He learned that except for fire, sunlight, beheading and unexpectedly bumping into a stake, he was immortal and had regenerative and healing powers. They allowed him to recover from all manner of injuries. They would just go away in time. He even grow back some parts if they were cut off. Skin would grow back, bones would mend. Still, it was a completely rotten thing to happen to a fellow.
Rotten because it would all grow back and regenerate…just like it was when he sustained the injury which meant that his liver spots would grow back, his paunchy belly would grow back …but his hair would not. He was balding when he was turned and he would always be an over 60 year old, paunchy mostly bald man. Vampires didn’t diet. They didn’t gain or lose weight. They lived on blood and without it they looked like skin and bone, but they weighed the same. It was one of those mysteries of the universe. They didn’t develop muscles that weren’t there before. They were strong, but that was supernatural strength or demon strength and had absolutely nothing to do with muscle tone. He could exercise himself silly and he would still be an over 60 paunchy, mostly bald man.
But THIS! He never knew anything as glorious as the taste of that girl’s blood. He felt infused with vigor and strength. He didn’t want to stop. Thank the powers that he had enough sense to leave off. He wanted to drain her. The effect of her blood was so potent that he was instantly aroused and came right then and there. He was an old man when he was turned, his sexual appetite wasn’t what it once was, so this instant arousal and consummation was too much to expect. He wanted more.
His dilemma now was what to do about his minions who were expecting to have their rounds include the school. They accepted his decision to be the first to ‘test the waters’ so to speak and ascertain the risks in going to the dorm, but now everything changed. There was no way he was going to share that girl …Then the thought occurred to him….what if the other girls had the same extraordinary blood…. No, no minions would ever be allowed to sip of anything so potent. His authority was tenuous at best and this elixir would undeniably give them the fortitude they would need to challenge him.
This blood was like a drug…it was making him reckless…now was not the time for intemperance. He found the secret treasure and meant to keep it concealed. Mulling over the puzzle, he made his way back to the lair. The abandoned winery with its foot thick stone walls and below ground caverns for storing casks was the perfect place for a nest of young vampires. He would sleep well today, he thought, better than he had in some time.

~~~

Spike lit the candles, grabbed a couple of flowers from the vase and went to the bedroom door. He felt tolerably fresh after his shower even though he had to put the same clothes back on. Giles was so cool about sending them food baskets. Too bad he didn’t have the sense to send over his bags. Oh well, maybe tomorrow. Of course he did smell sort of girly after shaving with Buffy’s shaving stuff and using her deodorant. Shaving for nigh on to one hundred and fifty years tends to make a blokes beard tough. He didn’t want his kisses to turn into a dermal abrasion.

Some Big Bad I am, Spike thought. Look at me, my hands are shaking and if I could sweat I just know my palms would be dripping…Well, here goes. He knocked on the door very gently. More than a minute dragged by and he heard no movement in the room. It was a small room and he was panicking, What could be taking her so long. Did she escap out the window and go to Giles? Were they going to come back here with stakes after all? Shit!”

Just one moment before his trepidation turned to anger the door opened. He gasped audibly. Buffy was gorgeous. She glowed. Her hair was pulled up in some kind of intricate way that she would insist was just carelessly piled up. She was wearing a brown peasant skirt and a cream colored camisole that snugged her middle and exaggerated her décolletage and on her feet were brown suede boots. Around her neck she wore what looked like a thin black cord with small wooden beads at each end that was just wrapped freely around her neck with the beads falling seductively just at the juncture of her breasts drawing his eye. He knew he was staring and half expected her to either smack him or say something cutting. She did neither. Her eyelids were heavy and she lifted them slowly as she smiled and said, “Hello Spike.”

Spike had to clear his throat before any sound would come out. “Evenin’ Slayer.” Damn, he thought. Shoulda said Buffy. Too late. Hope she’s not pissed. “I brought you flowers.”

“Thank you,” was all she said as she tucked them into her hair.

Bugger, she’s not going to make this easy. “I’ve made a fire. I thought we might talk a bit,” was all he said. He didn’t want to give away the surprise of the dinner, although he knew she must have smelled the warming food. Spike offered his hand and she took his arm. OK, he thought. Not sure what this means except she means to keep me guessing.

They turned from the kitchen into the dining room and the living area and she tried to hide her surprise and pleasure. There were candles everywhere giving the room a warm enticing glow. She took her place on one side of the table and Spike stepped away to pour the wine. He sat just long enough to share a toast with her. He thought for a minute and then said, raised his eyes to meet hers and said, “Forever.”

Buffy lips raised in a small smile. He was so beautiful with candlelight twinkling in his eyes. She knew they still had to resolve this thing. It would be easier but unwise to gloss over it. For now though, this was a peaceful respite and a marvelous gesture that she was not going to ruin. She said, “Forever.”

They took their meal and enjoyed the wine. It had little effect on Spike, if any at all, but it did put Buffy at ease. Alcohol did funny things to people. The thought crossed Spike’s mind that Buffy has an aggressive nature and he might be heading into dangerous territory, but inasmuch as he hoped to spend an eternity with this woman, now was as good a time as any to find out. They made small talk about the weather, the food, and Giles’ generosity. When finally the meal was done and the table cleared, Spike put a small bowl of mints that were included in the basket on the table and decided that now was the time to talk. “Buffy, I’m so sorry.”

At the exact same moment Buffy said, “Spike, I have to apologize.”

Startled, they laughed. The started together again and laughed and Spike said, “Know it’s polite to let the lady go first, but since I’m the biggest offender here, I wish you’d let me say my bit.”

Buffy said, “I don’t know that what you said is true, but by all means go ahead.”

“Right then…I’m a complete arse and I wonder how you can even consider lovin’ me. I don’t deserve you…really, I don’t. For all you knew we would never, ever see each other again and you had every right…even a duty…to move on. To be honest, I don’t approve of your choice, but you should be dressed in the finest and stay at the finest places because there is no one who deserves it more and I’m a bloody arse for sayin’ the things I did. Can you ever forgive me?” He crawled around to her side of the table and sat with his back against the couch and pulled her over to sit between his legs and lean against him.

She considered what she wanted to say. She had it all figured out when she was just going to blurt it, but now that he went first it wasn’t so easy. “Spike, when we were in the Hellmouth and you were glowing with all the light of heaven I told you I loved you….I meant it. I meant it then and I mean it now. That day when I lost you….I lost me. All I did after that was go through the motions….a thousand times worse than when Willow brought me back and you were the only one who understood how lost I was.” Great salty tears started welling in her eyes. “Everyone kept telling me how happy I should be, how I should start my new life, the life I was always wishing I could have.” Buffy turned her head to meet his gaze. “No one understood. No one knew how I felt about you. That was my fault. They should have known all along. You were right Spike. You were always right.”

Spike wanted to say something but Buffy, who by now had tears rolling down her face went on, “The Immortal treated me like I was a queen….took me to all these amazing, exotic bazaars and wouldn’t let me spend a cent. He tried to make advances but I made it plain that wasn’t part of the deal. If he wanted, I was happy to be the flower on his lapel for awhile, but there would be nothing else. I could never love again. I’d found my love….,” she sobbed, “and lost him.”

“Buffy, I…”

“Just one more thing….you never left me Spike. Do you know that? You were in my heart and soul every moment after…. I could hear your voice telling me what to do, advising me….taking care of me.”

“I know baby,” Spike said tenderly.

“No, you don’t know. How could you know?” She said, not understanding.

“You told me….last night…in your dream.”
~~~
The time Spike dreaded most was at hand. He had to tell her soon…to wait would show him to be the same coward he was in not coming back to her. When he told her he worked at Wolfram & Hart he was surprised she didn’t ask. He supposed she knew he’d get around to the details sooner or later. She understood his reluctance to speak of anything Angel related.
He reached into himself to find the poet for the words to tell Buffy about the final battle but they wouldn’t come. Bugger, he thought, I can wax poetic at the most importune times but not when I need it most. So he waited until there was a lull in the chat, took a sip of his tea and took her hand.
She looked at him and her eyes filled with tears. “I know,” she said.
He gave her a puzzled look.
“No, I don’t know, not really except that something made you leave L.A. Something you haven’t included in your stories. I know that you didn’t come to me. You found Giles. You needed help…not love…”
He tried to interrupt but she stopped him, “It’s OK, baby…I understand….I think. Like always, you were thinking about me. You convinced yourself that a life without you was what was best for me.” she said tenderly, “You were wrong.” She smiled, “Miserably, pitifully wrong….but you did what you thought was right.” He raised his eyes to hers. “It’s something bad, isn’t it? Something very, very bad,” she nodded slowly as she looked into his eyes. He lowered his head to avoid her gaze ….she touched his chin ever so gently and lifted his face to see great heavy tears rolling down his face as his nod mimicked hers.
The words choked out, “Yes pet, very, very bad, “ and he sobbed.
Buffy straightened her shoulders. She never stopped the tender caresses that her lover needed so badly while she steeled herself for what he had to say. After losing him and so many others in her young life, she really believed that there wasn’t much left that could hurt her and now she knew she was wrong. “It’s Angel, isn’t it?”
Spike nodded, “…and all the others.”
“Others?”
“The whole team. Gunn, Lorne, Fred, Wesley…Connor.”
“Wesley too?”
“All of them. Even Connor.”
”Who’s Connor?”
It seemed like minutes went by before he spoke and so she urged him on. “Spike, talk to me. Tell me what happened?”
And Spike haltingly told the story of the final battle.
He started by telling her what little he knew about Connor. After all, it all started with him. Even Spike didn’t know all the details, but he knew enough. Wolfram & Hart seduced Angel into believing that he could make a difference from the inside. Connor was the bait all along. Connor was a miracle created by evil people with evil intentions, but their plan back-fired. The Senior Partners and the Circle of the Black Thorn underestimated a father’s love….and the love of a son.
Angel realized that he’d been duped and no matter what they did they would always be puppets in the hands of the firm. He set out to destroy the network of evil that bartered in the destruction of souls. His original intent was to strike a lone blow, but his team had already been to hell and back with him and they wanted a piece of the action too. Everyone went into the battle expecting to die….
And die they did. All…all except him. He saw Gunn fall. Blue told him about Wes and Angel burst into a cloud of dust before his eyes. He’d slain the dragon but fate played a part. In its death throes, the tail’s razor sharp points swung around and beheaded Angel. He never saw it coming. As Spike keened, he was struck down, knocked cold. When he came to, the rain had stopped, the alley was empty and there was no sign that a battle of epic proportions had ever taken place.
Buffy turned in his lap and wrapped her arms around him and hugged his head to her breast as he wrapped his arms around her. Her heart broke for her loss, but more for the pain of her vampire. She knew he would die a thousand tortured deaths rather than bring her one moment of pain.
Buffy was surprised she didn’t cry. Once upon a time, she was certain that Angel was her destiny. She loved him once. She did… really…with the all consuming ardor of a sixteen-year-old…and now he was gone. She hadn’t seen him, talked to him…or even thought of him since they closed the Hellmouth …and now he was gone.
She sighed and held Spike even tighter.
~~~

Chapter ~ 19 ~ Villains

Eamon Binnemon was never the sharpest tack in the drawer, but in life he was a solid hard working citizen and a thoroughly disagreeable man. He married right after his high school graduation to the only woman who ever paid him any attention. She died after 40 years of marriage of a sudden and fatal heart attack. They never had any children and they never had much of a life, so when the opportunity came for early retirement from the postal service, he took it. With no family left, he traveled the countryside to find some small village to live out his days. His ancestors weren’t particularly long lived so he figured he would never make old bones. He thought maybe he could find a small property and run a little truck farm, or maybe make crafts if the real estate had a barn or garage. He wanted a solitary life. He was never one for making friends; he enjoyed his own company best.. The older he got the more he turned into a crusty old curmudgeon, set in his ways and intolerant of change.

With no particular destination in mind and only a few personal mementos and two large suitcases of clothing, he set out to find a new life. He rarely stayed more than a few days in one place, usually finding lodging at an Inn, a Pub or small hotel. He had no interest in what was happening in the world. Honestly, the beat generation scared him. Everyone high on something or other and all dressed in black. They all looked like they were starving. He learned quickly that small inns were everywhere but he wasn’t interested in those….they were too personal. The proprietors sought to draw one in. He just wanted to be left alone. If he found a place that intrigued him, he spent some time in their local library to learn more. Following his nose he covered quite a lot of territory and learned that for all their differences, the communities were all the same and anyplace would do. He stayed several days in The Saddle and Tack just outside of Gloucester. The room on the third floor was small but the bed was cushy and the innkeeper was an old retired postal worker too. What little conversation there was usually consisted of complaints about their former employer. The evenings had taken on the early autumn chill and he was beginning to think that this village might be the place to settle. He was comfortable at the Inn and could stay there until he found a small dwelling to purchase. The locals were quiet and kept to themselves too and the soil was fertile if farming was to be his choice.

He took supper in the pub every evening. The innkeeper’s wife was a good cook. The food wasn’t fancy but tasty and filling. He was content in his own company and usually brought along something to read. People usually understood the silent message one gave when they hid their nose in a book. If they didn’t get the idea right off, it was easy enough to say, “Sorry, if you don’t mind, I’m at a particularly good part in my book.”

One evening, a young woman that he saw there almost every night came to his table. “Excuse me, sir, but I can’t help but notice that you was takin’ your supper alone every night. Me too,” she bubbled, “and I was wonderin’ if you wouldn’t mind if I joined you at your table? Food always tastes better while you’re talkin’ I always thought.”

For a moment he just stared at her…in surprise. He knew there was nothing about him that might suggest he wanted a dinner companion. He most certainly did not. He was content alone, but he searched his mind for some way to say that without being rude and could find none. He hadn’t opened his book yet, so that ploy was out. Trapped, he gestured for her to take a seat across from him in the booth. They exchanged introductions and thus began an unusual and unexpected sort of friendship.

She told him her name was Fiona McDermott and that she lived alone about a kilometer down the road and it was too much bother to cook for only herself and that was why she came to the pub for supper most nights. Binnemon found conversation with her easy. He told her of his plan for his future and in the weeks that followed they enjoyed their evening meal together nearly every night. They talked of their lives and experiences. He was starting to feel an attraction to her and found himself altering the truth from time to time to make himself more interesting and wondered if she was doing the same.

Poor thing. He had no idea.

~~~

Fiona spent a good deal of time thinking about Eamon Binnemon after they became well acquainted. He was alone. Nobody would miss him or wonder about him and more importantly, it was unlikely that anyone would recognize him later. That tends to muck things up. She’d seen others deal with fledges only to have a neighbor or distant cousin see them months after they buried them. If they didn’t get to off them right away to shut them up they talked up what they saw and wild stories about demons and vampires spread throughout the community, panic settled in and it became very dangerous for the real vampires and demons. Definitely an unhappy outcome.

As near as she could tell, Binne, as he liked to be called, was the perfect candidate.

She was alone for a long time. She and Des traveled across England and Europe until after WWII. They were patient and smart and they lived well. Des had no patience for minions, as his childe, she was the closest thing to a minion he could abide. Just the two alone, they were able to maintain a low profile and move about as they chose. It was Desmond who stumbled upon the idea of drinking from the brachial. He learned about pathetic humans who offered themselves in vampire brothels. Something so mundane had no interest to him. He would have to be desperate to sink so low, but those people didn’t want to have their necks interfered with….just the brachial or even femoral…especially if some vampire sex was on the menu too. Of course, the jugular was the best choice for a quick kill, but if time wasn’t an issue….why not the arm or the groin.

Then Desmond was dusted in a stupid accident….

She turned Eamon Binnemon and she taught him about eternal life and how fragile it is. The price for eternity was unrelenting hunger and vigilance. Nowhere in creation were there more perfect examples of survival of the fittest. The lazy, the stupid, those disrespectful of their heritage never lasted very long. The old ways were the best ways, plain and simple. When vampires became creative there was a tendency to be careless and that way lay only dust.
~~~

She thought back to her own turning. Fiona was a small, plump, full-breasted woman of 33. Widowed with no children. She has suffered three miscarriages and two stillbirths before her husband died in France while fighting in the Great War. She was bitter and lonely and living with her sister Delia and brother in law Michael and their three redheaded little girls in 1918. Sometimes she was so angry that her sister was happy while she lost everything, until her nieces came and threw their sweet, warm little arms around her and told her how much they loved her. That was enough to extinguish her sorrow and help her face each day.

Tom McDermott had seen to it that she would be taken care of in the event of his death. There was a savings account and insurance that if managed properly would take care of her for as long as she lived. Not in any grand fashion, mind, but comfortable; she didn’t come to her brother-in-laws home empty-handed. She was able to contribute in a material way.

Michael Mackey worked with the butcher and while his pay was small, he came home with fresh meat every night, not the best cuts, but good enough to make fine soups and stews. With a wife, her sister and three growing girls to feed he was grateful in what were hard times.

Life had been a struggle since the war and now the influenza was all anyone talked about. Delia and Fiona worried every time Michael and the two older girls walked out the door, he to work and they to school, exposing themselves to the coughs of others. Jane, the middle girl, only eight years old had been “off” the last several days. They checked her nearly constantly for fever, but so far none was apparent. Jemima, the oldest was a hearty ten-year-old. They were constantly reminding her to behave like lady. She much preferred running and playing in the neighborhood to learning about baking and sewing and such. Julia was the baby. She was just three with chubby pink cheeks and bouncy red curls.

Fiona noticed that Delia wasn’t quite herself either and wondered if she might be with child. She always said she wanted more children. It was Michael who was the practical one denying his urges from time to time. Having the room next to theirs and the walls being thin, Fiona knew that they had a healthy intimacy in their marriage that had slowed down some.

As time passed through the summer months, more and more people were getting sick…and dying. They were no longer anonymous names on a list, but co-workers and neighbors. When news came home with Jemima that several of her classmates weren’t in school one day and Jane confirmed that the same was true for her class, there erupted an argument in the small family. The ladies no longer wanted the children to go to school. Tom, working hard and struggling to make a living understood the importance of an education. He had dreams for his girls of a better life. The women reasoned that sending the girls to school might take away any life at all. Hearing that, the girls fell to tears with wails coming from Julia. She didn’t understand at all, but knew if her sisters were afraid, she should be too.

By the time the local government began having men spray the streets with disinfectant, only Michael was leaving the house to go to work and he told them as he left one morning donning his mask that he didn’t think he’d be going to work much longer. No so much because of his concern that he might become ill, but because fewer and fewer people were coming into the shop….he added as he closed the door that Mr. Gibson, his boss wasn’t looking so good.

He came home early that day just as a large wagon with four burly men with masks were carrying out the bodies of the next door neighbors. It looked to be all of them. He stood stock still, stunned. Two adults….that would be Jim and Tess….and then six more smaller bodies….the kids. Then he saw Sadie. One weeping form stood in the doorway and watched everyone in her world thrown into the back of a wagon wrapped only in sheets. The truck pulled away and as the canvas cover ruffled in the wind behind the truck, he saw that the wagon was stacked to the top with bodies.

He went into the house, sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. Janie was coughing. The sound was like a knife in his heart.

That evening, a gentleman knocked at the kitchen door selling bread. Fiona stood at the door and refused him entry but he was a most charming fellow indeed. She certainly would not let him in the house lest he be infected; she went out to talk with him. In less than a heartbeat later, Fiona was to become immortal.

With uncanny speed, the man she later came to know as Desmond shifted into a demonic visage and sank knife like fangs into her throat. Before her life force left her, he pulled away and opened a vessel in his wrist and put it to her mouth. Instinctively she pursed her lips over the open wound and lapped at what would become the only thing that mattered for the rest of her existence as her heartbeat weakened, slowed and finally stopped.

In the days that followed her sisters and nieces wept nearly constantly. Michael left the house in search of Fiona against the cries of his family that it was too dangerous. His ladies were alone.

~~~

Desmond was waiting for her when she rose. Fiona was terrified. She was overcome with a need that she could not identify. He was gentle and kind to her and opened again the wound in his arm and pressed it to her lips. She drew the nectar deeply and felt relief. Calmed, he was able to explain the change she had undergone. He was patient with her questions and answered them with as much information as she needed much as one might explain deep philosophical concepts like life, and death and good and evil to a small child. She was, he made clear, very much like a child now….reborn to a new life…an eternal life and she needed to take the first step to all her tomorrows. He took her home where she would relieve her thirst. When she started to understand what he meant, the little bit of Fiona that was left balked. Desmond told her they were all sick. Hadn’t she heard Jane coughing when she left the house? Didn’t she know that they were in for a certain, slow, agonizing death? She could release them. He convinced her that it was the right thing to do.

She knew he was right, of course….didn’t she? Such was the power of the demon now dwelling within.

They went late in the night, when she knew they would all be asleep. He stood by to support her. She went first to Delia and Tom and found Delia alone. Alone? No matter. Delia awoke immediately. “Tom? Tom, where have you been?…..” She saw Fiona, deathly pale, her eyes sunken. She reached for her sister’s hand and grasped cold dead clay. Her own face changed from puzzlement to comprehension to disbelief to horror in a matter of seconds. Before she could scream, Fiona’s mouth opened wide and revealed jagged teeth and great long fangs. Fiona pushed her back down on the bed and latched on to Delia’s throat with such force that instead of just puncturing her jugular vein she crushed straight through to carotid artery and was showered in blood pushed free in great pressure due to the panic of her rapid heartbeat.

Fiona was desperate, most of the precious fluid was escaping. She glanced at Desmond who was watching with a smile on his lips and a gleam in his eye. “Relax, little one,” he purred, “take your time.” She returned his smile with blood and bits of flesh stuck in her teeth and dripping from her mouth and turned back to lap the blood now flowing more slowly as her sister’s life ebbed. When she had drunk her fill and her sister was dead, Fiona stood and kissed Delia full on her cold dead lips and looked deeply into her eyes and saw no one there. She gently closed her eyes and positioned her back on her pillow and drew her blankets back up to her neck. Desmond smiled, “Oh, that’s lovely, kitten.”

She turned and saw little Julia, eyes wide, standing in her crib. Desmond looked at the motto on the crest he wore around his neck, Juvenis Dulcis est and smiled. What a perfect initiation for his new fledgling. “Auntie? Auntie? Where have you been? I missed you.” She said in her sweet, fresh, little girl voice. Fiona looked again to Desmond, wide eyes questioning…..after a pause, he nodded.

As Julia reached out for her aunt to lift her, Fiona wasted no time in going straight for her throat. This was a learning experience. Her little neck was so small, Fiona nearly bit right through her. When she looked to her mentor this time, it was in disappointment….she emptied so quickly, and it was so good. Unspoiled. It tasted of something special…what was it? She asked Desmond what it was that made it so different. He replied, “Hope.”

She was especially quiet when she went to Jem and Jane’s room. She didn’t want any fighting. She was hungry and not interested in fighting for her dinner. They were sumptuous, although Jane was a little off. She guessed that Desmond was right….she was sick and Fiona could taste it. Jane must have known too because there was no hope in her. Fiona made up her mind right then and there that she would only dine on the young.

After that night, Desmond was never gentle and kind again and Fiona learned what it was to be a vampire childe. Over the years she realized that Desmond had taken his position as sire seriously. He was a master vampire in the line of Lamia, one of the twelve great orders dating back to the earliest times with a particular taste for children. He’d been a hard taskmaster but she learned the old vampire ways. They may be demons, but theirs is an ancient and dignified society with more rules than Parliament and more rituals than the Vatican and as she grew in vampire years she was held accountable for learning it all and woe to she who was unprepared when her master demanded. She was beaten and tortured and raped until she got things right….and get things right, she did until at last she was a master vampire.

~~~

Binne proved to be an apt pupil. Eager to please he thus avoided a good deal of the traditional torture necessary in the instruction of a fledge, not because Fiona was a woman. She was a ruthless as one could imagine and had the strength of ten men, but because Fiona was faithful to heritage of the family Lamia and would put him in his place with chains, ropes, handcuffs, whips, crops….anything handy actually for relatively minor infractions just to make sure he understood how tenuous his existence truly was.

But Binne was headstrong. He had ideas of his own and lacked the sense to think them through to the probable outcome. As a result, Fiona had been spending much of their time together cleaning up the messes he made. She was so sure he would be a good candidate. An older man in retirement should have gained the wisdom that comes with age and experience. Not so in Binne’s case. Evidently he wanted to make up for years of caution by using his eternity frivolously. His eternity would be over sooner than later if he continued in the same reckless manner. Fiona taught by example in her cautious ways and attention to detail. She did not like to use stories of mistakes made by great vampires that had gone before, but the time had come to tell Binnemon of how his grand sire met his end.

~~~

She and Desmond had been stalking a theater group. People spending long nights at their little theater getting ready to put on a presentation of Dracula. They struck up a conversation with the director at the deli-restaurant across the street from the theater and led her to believe that they were specialists in the paranormal….it was true….and they agreed to sit in on a rehearsal and give them some advice regarding their authenticity. Eighteen people counting cast and crew and three weeks until opening night. If they were careful, Fiona and Desmond could stay at the theater and take them all at their leisure, one by one. They would start with the lighting crew. Good idea, but it didn’t work out.

During the very first rehearsal, Desmond was taking his role way too seriously and was displeased with the way the actors were attempting to use the stake. It was one of those fake prop retractable stakes, but it was only 1948 and the technology of that sort of thing was sketchy at best. Desmond climbed into the open casket…full of good humor and gave instructions as Fiona looked on. The actor playing Von Helsing brought the stake up and plunged it (as instructed) into Desmond’s chest. Desmond opened his eyes in a brilliant moment of realization. The stake hadn’t retracted and had broken the skin above his sternum. Before Desmond could open his mouth, Von Helsing raised his mallet and drove the stake home. Desmond of Lamia, the master vampire vanished in a cloud of dust.

Fiona only had a moment and acted quickly. In the chaos that followed, she was able to kill all five on stage and exit the building through the stage door dragging one of the stagehands after her for a snack later. Not bad, she thought. It wasn’t a total loss, too bad about Desmond. Good thing he taught her well.

Vampires aren’t likely to mourn over one another. They are only concerned with the “now.” Their motto, it’s been said, is Ut Volo Sumo Habeo, to want, to take, to have. They invented instant gratification. As long as they stay out of the sun and get a good meal at least every couple of days not much will trouble them and even then, not for long. Not even the loss of one who was a partner for thirty odd years.

Desmond didn’t teach her everything she needed to know though. Not by mistake either. He chose not to pass on what would later be vital information for Fiona and her childe. Over the years he heard legends about vampire slayers. Always a young girl with superhuman strength who was endowed with abilities to sense vampires and then hunt them down to kill. It was a legend. He never believed it. He never saw a slayer himself and never knew anyone who had. Why clutter up her mind with tales of a monster’s monster. She couldn’t teach what she never knew; all she knew was that she and her childe were doing just fine.

Chapter 20~ Maturity

The reunited lovers spent that night comforting each other in their sorrow and loss in tears and passion. The giving of oneself in passionate and needy intercourse is the ultimate means of comfort in times of loss.
In the days that followed, time was spent in learning about each other. Long ago, Buffy accepted the fact that she would never have a normal life. In fact, she came to understand that even if she were not the Slayer, an ordinary life was not for her. She was the Slayer though, and as you grow, you learn to stop complaining about the things you cannot change. Nevertheless, she knew regret.
In what had to be the strangest courtship on record, she fell hopelessly in love with a man about whom she knew very little. During the time he was gone, in an attempt to be close to him, she did research to find out who Spike really was. She learned a great deal and it wasn’t awfully hard causing her even more disappointment with the Council that held domain over her life for so long. They claimed they knew nothing of a vampires life before being turned, when in fact it was like searching a family tree. Armed with only a few known facts, and having an idea of where to look, she learned Spike’s name, where he lived, went to school and worked as a young man. What she wanted to know and could only find out from him, were the details of his life. The things that lovers discover about each other in an ordinary courtship.
“I want to get to know William,” Buffy said to Spike on their third evening alone together.
“No you don’t, pet.” Spike said. “He was a bore, a Mama’s boy. Trust me, you wouldn’t like him.” He pulled her closer to him and went on, “I’m not him…and it’s me you love.”
She had to think for a moment. “I do love you, Spike. I love everything about you, and William is a big part of you, no matter how hard you try to deny it.” Spike began to interrupt, but Buffy turned in his arms to face him. Clearly, she had a germ of an idea and it was bursting to get out. She took a deep breath and said, “Without William, you wouldn’t have a knowledge of Latin and Greek!”
Spike arched his eyebrow! Buffy smiled. She knew she was on the right track. “Without William, you wouldn’t have been able to talk with Giles using all those literary references that used to make me crazy. You two might just as well have spoken Russian. It was all Greek to me.” That one made Spike laugh out loud, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Without William, you wouldn’t have been able to win over my Mom so easily. You were always so courteous and gentlemanly with her.” They both felt the need for quiet for a moment, stilled by Joyce’s memory until Buffy went on, “You know, I think she would have approved. Anyway, it was William who scored with Mom.”
“Oh, I could have scored with Joyce all on my own if I wanted,” said Spike the Naughty.
The smack and the “Ewww!” were simultaneous and he was ready for both. “All right! I give! What do you want to know?” he said as he tickled her and nuzzled into her neck breathing in her special scent.
Thus they began hours of questions and answers about each other. Buffy wanted to know what it was like to grow up in the 1800s and Spike wanted to know all about the Valley girl that Buffy once was. They shared school stories and family stories and legends, ordinary likes and dislikes and fell asleep in each others arms on the couch exhausted from so much exposition. They woke several hours later only to crawl right into their bed and go back to sleep.
~~~
Buffy stirred next to him and Spike readjusted himself to pull her closer, nestling so that they were spooned like an old married couple. Spike rested his right arm comfortably over Buffy so that his hand could cup her left breast and tease her nipple. He wasn’t trying to wake her up although he knew that her body would respond to the attention and then her mind would follow shortly thereafter. Honestly, he wasn’t trying to wake her up. This was one of his favorite times with her…of course; any time with her had become his favorite time. He so loved the warm sleepy scent of her. His body absorbed her warmth so he could nuzzle his face and nose into her neck and hair. He breathed deeply and thought about it. It was a combination of clean sheets and shampoo and sex….
Ever so slightly, Buffy shifted her bottom to press against his erection. He smiled and pressed a kiss against her neck and abandoned her breast and moved his hand to her lips and ran his finger over them and then between them and then returned his moistened finger to her nipple. She moaned. Yes, this morning would be like the one before it and the morning, evening and night before that.
This was their fourth morning together. They had neither seen nor talked to anyone but each other in that time. A fresh basket of food and beverage (and blood) had arrived twice a day. The meals were sumptuous and elegantly prepared with bottles of the finest wine to complement each meal. The couple had lost count of the times that they made love. Each had explored every inch of the other with exquisite tenderness. While their passion was all consuming, there was no need for the crazed urgency that had been part of their coupling in the past. They had forever.
After breakfast, Spike found a deck of cards and taught Buffy three different kinds of solitaire. At first she objected telling him she never intended to be alone again. As far as she was concerned there would be no more alone….ever! He agreed, but persisted and told Buffy that solitaire was a great game for teaching concentration and patience, two things she seriously lacked, a comment which ended up in a bout of rough and tumble.
~~~
Buffy pulled the towel off her head as she took the seat in front of the mirror in the old fashioned bathroom and Spike took the comb and began working the knots out of her hair. He loved the task and she loved him doing it. “Well, luv, not that I wouldn’t like to go on in this cottage forever, but don’t you think we should give your Watcher a call?”

She smiled at her own reflection. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to this scene out of and old Topper movie with the “ghost” running the comb through her hair. Her smile turned upside down, “Really? So soon?”

“It’s been four days. I suspect Giles is worried and besides, I didn’t tell you, there’s a bit of a situation going on in the world outside our love nest.”

“An apocalypse? Again?…Ouch!”

“Ooh, sorry about that, pet. No, not quite that, but something that may need the help of a Slayer and her trusty fanged companion.”

“So, spill.”

“Rather not, let’s give Giles a call and get together with him. We can share it all then. No point in repeating ourselves, right?”

“If you say so,” she said as she pressed her back against him. “Is that a brush in your pocket or are you happy to see me, Mr. Masterson. “ She reached her hand around and grabbed his round perfect bottom and pressed into him harder, “Oooh, …no pockets!”

“You…are…insatiable!” he chuckled as he pushed the hair away from her neck and planted a kiss there.

“Yup!”
This time the union was quick and passionate. Buffy turned, wrapping her legs around Spike as she impaled herself on him. No need for foreplay this time, they could barely keep their hands off each other.
After they showered and dressed as Spike waited for Buffy to do the final touch ups that women are wont to do, Spike was overcome with melancholy. He knew this miracle wouldn’t last…couldn’t last…truth, beauty, peace, happiness…eventually it all turns to rot. He hung his head in sadness…he knew he just had to wait, it was only a matter of time.
~~~

Xander sauntered down the hall toward Giles’ office. They were busy the past couple of days and had little contact. He had a few moments and decided on an impromptu visit. Of course, it very well might backfire on him. Giles never really thought of him as a pal….and it was a minute or two with a pal that Xander sought.

Mrs. Reed sat at her desk with head phones on. Busy typing important stuff for Giles. Maybe someday he’d have something important to say that someone else would type for him. Right now his time was mostly spent in study and flipping pages in an empty appointment book. Hey, the pay and the perks were good, so not complaining, here….He said these words in his mind and hoped that the Powers were listening and realized that he wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth….then he wondered if they understood the reference. He decided he thought too much.

Mrs. Reed lifted her eyes from her work and looked at him. It was evident she’d seen him, but there was no change in her expression and she never missed one keystroke. He understood the body language now. That meant stay put and shut up although probably using terribly proper words in an English country accent. He was beginning to get the fact that everyone over here didn’t sound the same, like not all New Yorkers sound alike. In that no speak moment she said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Harris. I’ll be with you in just a moment. Have a biscuit, won’t you?”

That was a good idea, so he reached for one of the shortbread cookies on a plate on her desk. Like lightning, her hand swept away from the keyboard and smacked his hand….hard! “No! Those are for Mr. Giles tea,” was all she said before her hand returned to the keyboard and her eyes returned to their work. It was so fast he doubted she missed a key.

After what seemed like an hour but was really only about three minutes, she removed the headset and glanced at Xander smiling and said, “How may I help you sir?”

Sir? He stood up straighter. “Is Giles….um, Mr. Giles in?”

“Yes,” she answered. Nothing else.

She wasn’t going to make this easy. She never made it easy.

“May I see him?” Might as well play her game and get it over with. No point in antagonizing the old bi…. gal.

“I’ll check,” she said, picking up the phone piece from the intercom set and turning her back to him. What? Was she afraid he was going to read her lips? Maybe he’d see her mouth move to the words, “Dumb dork is here…shall I get rid of him?” and God forbid she use the intercom speaker…but then he realized he’d probably hear Giles say, “Tell the Dumb Dork to come back later.” So maybe the subterfuge was to protect Xander’s fragile ego.

It turned out that this was his lucky moment. Too much to hope for a whole lucky day. “You may go right in,” Mrs. Reed said with a wide grin on her face like she’d just learned some very amusing secret.

Fragile ego kicked in!

“Giles! There you are…Master of your own universe, king of your own kingdom, president of your o…..”

“Yes, I get your point, Xander. What is it?”

Confused, Xander said, “What is what?”

Giles took a very deep breath and looked Xander square in the eye and said, slowly …deliberately
…”Why…are…you…here? Or if that isn’t clear enough, What… do …you …want?”

Danger…danger, Will Robinson, Giles possessed by evil alien being. Retreat! Think fast!

“Oh, I’m sorry, I guess I’ve caught you at a bad time. This is nothing critical….I’ll just leave now.”

Xander’s “deer in headlight” expression made Giles realize how very abrupt he’d been. He sighed and said quite sincerely, “I’m sorry Xander. I’ve had several very busy days with some very difficult problems….” He called out to Adele on the intercom (no phone piece equals comment suitable for dork ears) “Mrs. Reed, I’ll have my tea now, if it’s convenient. Two cups, please.”

“Certainly, sir,” was the return comment. Then, several moments of silence. Funny, it had never been awkward with Giles before. What was this about? At least the old one-eyed dork had enough sense to hold his tongue when it really counted.

Finally Giles broke the silence, “Do sit down, Xander. Tell me, then, what’s on your mind?”

“Gee, Giles, nothing particular….it’s just we haven’t seen each other in a couple of days, which is kind of unusual in itself and I wondered what’s the what!”

“Ah, yes….the what…” Just then Mrs. Reed brought in the tray with the tea and cookies. Before she put it down, Xander reached over and grabbed a cookie. He smiled around the morsel as he stuffed it in his mouth. It was an amazing thing….with no visible change in expression, Mrs. Reed managed to convey certain death if he tried it again. Fortunately, she didn’t hang around and left as soon as Giles thanked her.

Giles poured the tea for both of them. Taking cream and sugar in his, he left Xander to prepare his own. He couldn’t help noticing and thinking that four sugars was a bit extreme in a six ounce cup. Not his business, nonetheless.

Xander was antsy and finally said, “OK, I’ll start! What happened to Spike? We were spending practically every minute with the bleached undead and now he seems to have disappeared.…and what about MacGregor?…and what did you finally do with Kennedy?” He was on a roll now….”And what about…?”

“Enough!” Giles sincerely did not want to get into the Spike/Buffy situation with Xander just now, so he ignored that question and went on to the next. “This may come as a shock to you, but I do have other matters to attend to.”

Properly chastised, Xander apologized and offered his help. “You know G, I’m really not as stupid as I look, and I have “clocked field time.” (There it was again, his favorite phrase…even if he had to say it himself) “There are probably some tasks I could take off your hands.”

“Xander, that’s very generous, but you are still a student yourself.”

“Beg to differ, old man…um…I didn’t say that, OK? …the old man part.” Giles smiled. “So, I get that you don’t want me interviewing new employees or meeting with the girl’s parents, but I can add columns of numbers and compile data reports and stuff like that. Admit it, the only reason you don’t have the secretaries do it is because it’s “sensitive” information. I’m sensitive and I have Top Secret Security clearance….you said so yourself…and what about research? I’m Sensitive-Secretive-Research Man! I’ve even got the cape!”

This last line got him a chuckle at least and Xander felt much more at ease with the man who had been like the father he wished he had. He had come to terms with the issues surrounding his parents in the years since Sunnydale. They weren’t as awful as he thought.…Yes they were… But they had their own demons to fight. Demons like having married too young because they “had to” (that was a shocker when he finally did the math.)

Dad quit college after three semesters to get a job…he always wanted to be a journalist so he went to work for the local paper….in the Circulation Department …which meant he drove the truck that delivered the papers to the paper carriers and stores. His last stop every day was next to the Last Chance Saloon. He figured it was an omen and made sure he had a couple of drinks. After all, it was his last chance before he went home to a crying teen wife and crying baby. Then the paper downsized. He didn’t lose his job. He wasn’t that lucky. He got another job added on. Now he could take the papers off the presses and bind them into stacks and load the truck before he delivered them. After all that, a man needed a drink. It got so that first drink was the only part of the day he looked forward to.

Xander’s Mom never even got a High School Diploma. He remembered that embarrassed her. There was always a fight when they were supposed to go to Open House at school. She was too ashamed and Dad was too drunk. It finally got so that he told the teacher that his parents were sick that day. Not so funny thing was…they were….except it was every day.

Giles just continued to smile. “Sometimes you can be almost as refreshing as tea, Xander, and if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll have to kill you. Now, let me fill you in on the MacGregor situation.” Giles explained most of what they’d learned from him several nights ago and that he was waiting to hear back from Giles. He explained that he put an enormous amount of thought into the matter and thought that the had devised a rather clever contrivance, but after all those years working with a team in Sunnydale, he was hesitant to move forward without sharing his plan with others for some feedback.

“Share away, old man.”

Giles pursed his mouth in a hard line and looked annoyed….Xander thought it was mocked, “Enough of that, now! I will share, this evening at my cottage.”

“Ah, that must mean our undead drinking buddy is still around. What’s he been up to anyway?”

“Just seeing to some personal business, I believe. His is British, Xander.”

“Oh, I get it! He’s making the rounds of the cemeteries visiting relatives, huh? Look, if you don’t want to tell me, it’s OK. What time do you want me at your place?”

Giles thought a moment and said, “Around seven, I think. Will that be alright?”

“As if it matters what I think. Yeah, seven will be fine.”

“Xander, before you go,”….he hesitated. “I want to thank you for your offer. That was quite noble. You should know I have someone in mind for just the sort of work you describe, but I will take your offer under advisement and get back to you, alright?”

Xander was touched by Giles professional tone, not that he hadn’t heard him speak professionally before, but to him….about him. Wow, an idea of his was being taken under advisement. He was definitely moving up in the world. He wanted to bubble a bit, but decided that he would seem childish again and since he was being given an opportunity to rise to an expectation, he decided on a simple but forthright, “Yes, thank you. See you at seven.”

As the door closed, Giles sipped his tea and reached for a biscuit. The plate was empty.

~~~

Chapter 21 ~ Strategy

As sundown approached, Binnemon and his men awoke. The cellars of the old winery was a perfect lair. It had running water…cold…but vampires aren’t particular about water temperature. Cleanliness? Not a top priority either, but those were Binne’s rules and so far life had been sweet. He taught them that in order to move among the living without raising suspicion they had to make a good appearance. Vampires naturally have a rather off scent about them… He told them, “Dead don’t smell good.” Showers, meticulously clean clothes and cologne were a must.

Binnemon remembered how quickly he tired of Fiona’s endless tales of the old ways. She delighted beating him until he understood that he was one of the lucky ones connected with a master vampire but he learned his lessons well. A careless vampire had an extremely short life span. Nevertheless, Binne had ideas of his own. He began working out details the moment Fiona dusted. Finding the job at the school was a stroke of luck and after a year of scouting local towns and villages for likely victims, he began turning the guards. The headmaster hired them because they were older, lonely men without ties and would make the school their home. They fit perfectly into his scheme. With the minions, he could test his theory without placing himself in harm’s way.

Binne made a schedule for them written in coal on the wall of one of the large vat rooms. He permitted let them to feed every other night, with human blood that was more than adequate. Half of them would patrol the campus where any biting was strictly off limits. The other half would run, literally run. It appeased the instinct for the hunt calming them for the delicate encounter to come. He selected good targets from hundreds of small towns and villages within a fifty-kilometer radius. As long as they followed his instructions and stuck to the plan, they would be able to go back to a town about every three weeks. By training his fledges to hunt in this manner, he proved to himself that his plan worked.

The minions had been hunting under his rule for a little more than six months, he thought as they all readied themselves for the hunt. They knew he set himself to be the one to test the girls at the school, and were waiting for the day when it would be their turn. Sensing unrest, before they left the lair, Binne called a brief meeting. He needed to remind them that biting was strictly off limits on the campus. He was clearly agitated. Low muttering and foul language filled the room. Butler lifted his brow, and looked thoughtfully at Binnemon, as did Miller and Duffy.

The problem was that Binne was upset with himself. He was afraid he was losing control. That girl’s blood set him on fire. He could think of little else. He wanted to get back there and taste another girl. He needed to know if it was just Armstrong. What if they all that powerful blood? He sat down to ease the pressure in his trousers just thinking about it. It had been two days since biting Armstrong and he still felt the effects of her blood. He wanted her again. He wanted another. He wanted them all.
~~~

Still busy with late afternoon work, Giles heard his office door open. Without lifting his eyes he said, “Adele, please, no more interruptions. Mr. Harris’ impromptu visit has set me back considerably.” When there was no comment in return, he looked up, and there stood Spike and Buffy. Glowing. Beaming. Now Giles knew he had made the right decision. He hadn’t trusted it until this very moment.

“Buffy,” he said as he stood and rounded the desk for a hug. He held on to her long enough for Spike to clear his throat, which made him laugh out loud. “God it is so good to see you. Let me look at you.” Never releasing her, he leaned back and studied Buffy’s face. “Rested? No, that’s not it…something…”

“Better leave it at rested, Giles.” Buffy said, chuckling. Spike just stood back and watched with a pleased expression on his face, something akin to a cat with a full bowl of cream.

Taking a chair while Spike stood behind her, hand on her shoulder, fingers caressing her neck, Buffy said, “Thank you so much for these days, Giles. The cottage, the baskets…it’s been a …oh, you know…only better.”

“As I expected, Buffy. You see, I do listen. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little concerned. After spending several days visiting with Spike before you arrived, I realized the matter was entirely out of my hands. It was time for me to do whatever I could to make it perfect. I do have a romantic side, you know.”

Spike spoke up, “So it would seem. Any more of that brandy around, Rupes?”

“A smidgen, but enough to share…brandy for you too, Buffy?”

“No thanks, Giles. Maybe some wine. I’ll bet you have a nice stock of it somewhere.”

“Actually, no, but I have some cream sherry. That will be to your liking, I think. Sweet.”

“You called me Sweet. That’s nice.” Buffy said.

“No, I meant the sherry is quite sweet, but, “ Giles said, clearing his throat, “you are a sweet girl, it’s true.”

“Right, you know me, all about the sweet stuff…sweets for the sweet…!”

With drinks poured, Buffy raised her glass. Following her lead, both gentlemen raised their glasses and waited. Buffy smiled and said, “To the Scoobies.”

The two men nodded and repeated, “The Scoobies.”

The buzz of the intercom interrupted the awkward silence that followed. “Mr. Harris on line three, Mr. Giles.”

Giles was amused as he thought, saved by the bell. He picked up the telephone and acknowledged Xander. After listening for a few moments he said, “No, that’s not necessary. We’ll still meet at seven this evening. In fact, why don’t you dash over to my office now? I have something I want to show you.” He grinned and winked at the couple as he hung up.

Buffy and Spike exchanged glances when the call came. As Giles replaced the phone in it's cradle, Buffy asked, “You think he’ll be OK with this…with us?”

Spike interjected, “He’d bloody well better be,” as he moved both hands firmly to her shoulders. She brought her hand up, caught his, and kissed his palm.

Giles observed the tender moment and felt like a voyeur. Then he realized that his business day was over and started straightening his papers and said, “He may be startled at first. I had hoped that we would deal with this situation this evening over drinks and snacks at my cottage, but since he called, it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up.”

Giles sighed with relief when Mrs. Reed’s voice announced that Xander had arrived.

Before he could respond, Xander came bounding through the door with his usual gusto. “Something to show me? You never want to show …! His jaw dropped as he spied Buffy.

“Buffy!”

He grabbed her, hugged her and swung her in circles, “Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy….”

He slowed. “Spike. Spike…Spike with Buffy?"

He shrugged, “OK, then, Buffy with Spike!” He grabbed Buffy again and gathered her into a tight hug.

Giles exhaled the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding and chuckled. Xander never ceased to surprise.

Buffy broke in on what she hoped was a positive note, “Look at you, all Watchery! So, how are the studies going? You think you’re going to like it?” She furrowed her eyebrows, “You do remember that Giles was the grown-up?” and then she whispered, …”The enemy? Are you ready to be somebody’s grown-up?”

Spike snickered in the background.

“I heard that bleach boy.” Then, in an affected mature voice, he said, “Quite ready.” They all laughed. Xander added, “Yeah, Giles has my back and he says it’s going good.” He looked to Giles for confirmation.

Giles cleared his throat, removed his glasses and said, “Apart from his misuse of the English language, Xander is doing very well indeed. Of course, he has many years training ahead of him.”

“Years?” Xander said sounding like Scooby Doo.

~~~
All was right with the world. Giles leaned back in his chair and savored the moment. It happened so seldom, he was determined to enjoy it while he could. Xander suggested they all go to The Riderless Horse for a beer and something to eat. Buffy jumped at the idea. It did his heart good to see her so happy. He begged off, pleading his work. They agreed they would meet at his cottage at seven.

~~~

“So,” Xander queried, “let me get this straight. Binne is a vampire.”

“Yes, Xander, for the third time, Mr. Binnemon, our cheerful night guard at the main building, is a vampire as are all of the night guards, apparently,” Giles repeated.

“And we know this because MacGregor told you….MacGregor, who is also a vampire….”

“Right again.”

“OK, this may seem like a silly question, but am I the only human on staff? Wait!" I’d know if I was a vampire, right?" Xander's eyes widened, "And hey, come to think of it, Giles, I haven’t seen you in daylight lately, either.”

Giles sense of humor was waning. “Yes, Xander, you’re quite right, YOU are the only human on staff and I too am a vampire! Grrr Arrgh! Now, if you don’t mind can we get this Pseudo Scooby meeting moving along, please?”

Spike and Buffy held their tongues although they were both dying to jump in and continue the fun. They didn’t dare meet eyes lest they burst into laughter.

Giles was no longer in the mood for laughter. Something else was weighing heavily on his mind and he wanted to get to it. “Binne has submitted his resignation. He cited health reasons.”

”…or terminal lack of it,” said Xander.

“He may suspect we’re on to him but I rather think not. I mentioned before that I make certain to interview all the employees.” As he spoke, Giles went to the kitchen and carried out a carefully prepared tray of fruit, cheese and fresh crusty bread and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm.

“Right Rupert, and we all know how well that went,” said Spike.

“Ah, very clever, Spike. Your wit astounds me. Please go to the kitchen and bring in some wine glasses, thank you.” He sat on the edge of the couch and opened the bottle of wine. “I’ve thought about that. MacGregor said that all the night guards are vampires. Even conceding that I may have made a mistake, which I sincerely doubt, I refuse to accept that I hired vampires. I propose that Binne was turned after he was hired. I’ll give him this, he’s a clever fellow, he’s little more than a fledge himself.”

Spike, banging around the kitchen hollered, “Giles, do you want me to bring in the jelly jars with Charlie and Lola on them, or the old set with the WB characters?”

“Look more carefully Spike, there are wine glasses in the cupboard.”

“Well, would you look at that! See? Living with a vampire brought a little class into your pitiful life. Keep this up and you may actually have a shag one of these days.” Spike said as he returned to the living room with the glasses. He put them on the table, curled himself up in Giles’ favorite chair, and pulled Buffy down onto his lap. She wriggled, he growled, and Xander and Giles looked very uncomfortable.

“So what’s the big deal, Giles?” Buffy asked. “We’ve taken out bigger vamp nests than this every day in Sunnydale. What’s so special about this one?”

Giles went on to explain that the fact that they infiltrated the school had huge implications for the entire network of schools. He was not going to let on to them that the problem probably wasn’t quite as big as he was implying, but the possibility was there and it terrified him. He brought out a dry erase board. Xander and Spike broke into whoops and whistles, and then agreed, gravely, that Giles was spending too much time with Andrew.

Giles frowned as he chose between four colors of marker. "Ah, but never forget one picture is worth a thousand words and I'm man enough to admit that he proved to me that illustration works."

He explained that as of yet, there was no evidence of any attacks on campus, however, it was safe to assume that was Binne’s goal. So he wrote School in red on the top of the board. He underlined it twice.

With that as a given, he surmised that they could assume that Binne knew the girls were slayers and their blood had special properties. He wrote Slayers under School, also in red

Spike raised his hand.

“Yes, Spike.”

“I think I see a problem”

“All right,” Giles said, eager for input. He readied his marker.

“You should have started with the black marker. You want to stress a point with the red, right? Shouldn’t ‘have started with red.”

With his jaw muscles twitching, Giles said, “Thank you, Spike. May I go on?”

“Please.” Spike answered and never cracked a smile.

Giles erased the board, put down the markers and sat down. His tone was near pleading as he went on, “People…this is not a joke. The time for joking is over. Don’t you see how far reaching the implications are? Good Lord, how far has this gone?” He stood and began pacing. “This is not an apocalypse…it’s worse. Binnemon isn’t the Master, or the First. He's a common, ordinary vampire…and from what MacGregor says, not even a particularly astute vampire.” He looked each of them in the eye. “The Council, an organization pledged to protect humanity from vampires has allowed a clever vampire to gain a foothold right under our noses.” Giles slumped to the couch, “I...allowed it.”

Considerably subdued, the team listened as he went on with his tale of doom, gloom and disaster.

Perhaps it was because Giles sat behind a desk distanced from any real danger for so long that he was so quick to panic. Time was, his level head had made the team so effective. Now, already in panic mode, he was outlining plans to deal with an attempted annihilation of the slayer line. They hadn’t even started research.

~~~

“Good morning, Boss," Xander said blowing into Giles office with the chill morning air still rolling off of him despite a ride on the lift and navigating several hallways. His hands were full and he used his butt to bump the door open and kicked it with his foot to make it swing wide. "I brought doughnuts." He spied Spike and smiled, "Dead Thing." Putting the box on the desk, he pulled off his cap and stuffed it in his coat pocket and said, "I figured serious research needed fuel. Sweet and chocolatey goodness counts as nutrition." He caught Buffy's eye and his smile widened, "Buffy. Sorry Giles, no jellies!”

Giles, who was already engrossed in trying to find something on vampires who didn’t bite necks looked up, clearly disappointed, “No jellies?….A blueberry scone, then?”

“No! I keep reminding you, scones are not doughnuts. I think you’re slipping old man.”

“Yes, slipping. That reminds me….that evaluation I was working on….the one that relates to the possible increase in wages for student watchers….I have to remember to note that the budget really won’t allow…..”

“OK, OK, I get it….I just wanted to turn the clock back to a time before tweed.”

“Xander!”

“Right… So… I brought coffee since this is a tea only zone and I even brought a steaming hot cup of congealed A neg in a thermal mug for our team member without a heart….”

“Oi!”

“Heart…..beat. Heartbeat…you interrupted me.”

Giles cleared his throat and took off his glasses to polish. He confessed he had no success in discovering more about these vampires. Buffy scolded him for researching when he had promised to wait until morning. He admitted that once a puzzle was set before him it was nigh impossible for him to let it rest. “The good news is that I fashioned a game plan that I think will work and I’d like to fill you all in.

Spike leaned back in his chair and said, “Whoa, looks like the watcher grew a pair overnight!”

“Yes, I did.” Giles said firmly, which brought quiet to the room and permitted him to outline his plan.

The first was what to do about the night guards. He conceded that it was very hard for him to sleep knowing the girls were being guarded by vampires. What kind of a person would allow demons to continue unfettered access to those innocents in his charge?

Buffy was the first to speak. “I understand what you’re saying Giles, and honestly, I was having the same problem.”

Spike interrupted, “Really? Your snoring and sputtering struck me as s a pretty good sign of sleep.”

“Too Much Information for the oupgray,” Buffy sang. “Seriously, I thought about it and realized there were lots of nights we chose not to patrol for one reason or another…and……and lots of nights we decided to quit early and we KNEW there were still lots of bad guys out there with access to the whole population of Sunnydale. See? Not really that much difference!” These girls are slayers…right? Not exactly innocents…. OK, yes, innocents, but trained innocents with special skills. It’s not exactly like they’re without defenses.” She finished standing up with her hands on her hips looking every bit the self-righteous thunderbolt that she was.

Spike watched her in awe. He wiggled in his seat to…adjust himself.

Giles shrugged and raised his brows, “Point taken." He wiped cream filling from his chin.

Spike spoke up and admitted that he’d put a little thought into the matter too. “Bein’ all Big Bad an’ all, I just want to take ‘em out, but I realized if we did that we wouldn’t know any more than we do now…research notwithstanding. Besides, I been around a long time and got my ear to the ground, and while I don’t know everything about my kind, I sure as hell would have known about vamps that are dainty with their kills. So,” he hesitated, “I have to think all the time you’re spending in books is likely to be a bloody waste of time. Capture one and we’ll learn what we need to know….and just to show how much I want to help, I’ll offer up my services to do the torturin.’”

“What a guy!…You’d do that for us? Wow!” Xander leaned back and put his feet up on the desk. Giles glared at the offending size twelves. Xander put his legs down and planted his feet on the floor. His tone became serious. "Honestly? I think Spike has a good idea. OK, not so much the torturing part, but capturing one of the minions to gather intelligence has merit."

Spike said, "I knew it. See that, Giles. Even Xander agrees with me."

"As it happens, I am in complete agreement," said Giles. "Let's put that down as the first phase of our plan. Now, I've already contacted Willow. She's checking the Internet to see if she can find anything on Binnemon.”

Xander said, “I can help with that. Since I’ve been here, I’ve gotten good at navigating the information highway. I told you I wanted to help. Better jump at it, Giles, I may not be so willing when I get busy Watching.”

Giles was stunned. “Really. My haven’t you suddenly become assertive.” He took a deep breath before continuing. He was dealing with an internal struggle. Chastise Xander for his tone or recognize that he was no longer dealing with a child. As he studied Xander, the answer was apparent. “This is hard for me Xander, but I suspect an apology is in order. I have to start thinking of you as more than just help in the field. To be honest, I was thinking you might work with Spike and Buffy in capturing the guard.”

“Bait, huh?”

“Well, yes. You’ve already proven your…numminess. Need I say, Dracula?”

Xander rolled his eyes, “I thought we agreed that we would never say that name again. OK, I’ll be the worm on the hook, the salt lick in the woods, the hooker on the corner…”

“Enough,” said Giles.

Xander pointed at Spike, “and don’t you be getting any ideas.”

Buffy wrapped herself around Spike and said, “No worries. I’m all the nummy he needs.”

Hanging his head, Xander said, “Awww, I walked right into that one.”

Wearing a sly, lusty smile, Spike shifted his hold on Buffy so that her bottom pressed flush against him. His voice was a low growl as he said, “So, we about ready to wrap this up? I have things to do, places to be.”

There was little doubt what Spike had to do and where he was going to be. Grateful for a change of subject and knowing full well it could be explosive, Giles removed his glasses and said, “One thing more. "I've made the decision to hire MacGregor as my assistant."

Xander paled.

"You bloody fool. You're planning to hire someone you hardly know--a vampire--when we're besieged with vampires? He could be behind the entire thing for all we know. Meanwhile, you've got the boy… ." Spike stopped and looked at Xander. "The man over there, whose mettle has been tested more than once. Who's saved the world. Who's got the scars to prove his courage. Have you lost your mind?"

“Perhaps you are forgetting that Xander is training to be a Watcher. That is where his true value lies.” Giles answered. “We need Watchers. I’m hiring a number cruncher. His chief qualification, ironically, is that he is a vampire. I can trust that he understands the sensitive nature of our work and the danger in exposure. Why would I waste Xander as a glorified secretary” After a conciliatory glance at Xander, he went on to explain that they actually did know a considerable amount about MacGregor.

Giles held up a manila envelope with MacGregor’s transcripts and a glowing letter of recommendation from the University at Edinborough. MacGregor was in fact Doctor MacGregor with PhDs in English, Theater, Education and Administration. He said that when he called and inquired about MacGregor he spoke with the Chamberlain who was delighted that MacGregor was going to keep working and was in good health.

The discussion continued a while longer, Giles citing MacGregor's relationship with Enfield, and insisting that Binnemon was quite likely to recognize MacGregor as a vampire, and be moved to act. Giles said, "We'll be waiting for him when he does."
Finally Spike and Xander both agreed that Giles' decision was sound.

Buffy crossed her arms, and began tapping her foot.

"You have a concern that hasn't been addressed?" Giles removed his glasses again.

"Yes, I do. Who's MacGregor?"

~~~

They spent the rest of the morning working out a plan. The first thing was to contact Willow and let her fingers do the walking through the Internet. They decided that what she could do in a few hours it would take them days to find out. Buffy and Spike would take over the guards’ duties until Giles could hire some new people. With at least an outline of a plan, the group was satisfied and prepared to go their separate ways.

As they filed out the door, the last thing Giles heard was Spike muttering to Buffy, ““I had to save the world consumed in Hellfire before he’d hire me. Why the fuck didn’t he ever ask me about my degrees?”

~~~

In the days that followed, the little band kept their operation as covert as possible to avoid spooking Binnemon and his minions.

Willow was doing the Internet research for them as surreptitiously as possible. The Council monitored Internet activity regarding paranormal and metaphysical searches and they certainly did not want them to get wind of the situation.

She was unable to find any documentation on Binnemon at all. From that, they deduced that he either he was a young vampire or had been extraordinarily cautious. Her best source was newspaper articles wherein the reporter speculated that the deaths were mysterious and noted a link due to a loss of blood far greater than the wound would imply. When the victims were found, they appeared to have died from a somewhat natural (well, not demonic) cause. Usually the trauma would be the assumed cause of death. The so-called accidents were random, separated by distance and time. Hence, the bodies would not draw the attention of lawmakers, demon hunters or watchers. There were no articles indicating that an official investigation took place.

Willow started with a worldwide search and now she would narrow it to England and most specifically the Gloucester area. Perhaps she would learn something from the news and obits. Since they were theorizing that Binnemon was not an elder vampire, she would do a reverse search.

~~~

Spike and Buffy remained quartered in the cottage and during the day, they accepted teaching duties at the school. They patrolled each evening after sundown and were eliminating the guards one by one to avoid making Binnemon unnecessarily suspicious. They knew it was risky to leave the vampires patrolling but since there had not been any attacks, it was a calculated risk they felt warranted. They also encountered a number of demons. Giles was ashamed and embarrassed because he was completely unaware of that sort of danger in the area. He knew Gloucester had history dating back to ancient times, but there were no records in the Watcher’s Libraries of specific demon activity.

MacGregor acclimated to his position as an evening guard without any problems. So far, he had not encountered Binnemon, but met several of the other guards. His business with them had been purely professional as guardians of the school. They seemed like innocent, friendly chaps. It disturbed him when he learned of their staking. He realized increasingly each day that he was the innocent. He kept himself quartered in the crypt in the old cemetery. His had been a solitary life and wished it to remain that way. Enfield was still getting his blood. They changed his shift to avoid putting him in danger.

Buffy worried about Spike. They always came home from patrol with cuts and scratches. She noticed his wounds were slow in healing. She was glad that MacGregor was sharing the human blood.

Xander became melancholy as weeks went by. Seeing Buffy and Spike together reminded him of his loneliness. He was hard at work studying and spending more time in the library helping with the research. His Internet connection was too much of a temptation. He found that submerging himself in research was like the old days.

~~~

It was after midnight when Spike and Buffy returned from patrol and heard Buffy’s cell phone ringing as they unlocked the door. She answered without checking the ID and had to pull the phone away from her ear.

Dawn screamed out of the phone, “Spike’s alive?”

“Hi Dawn.” Buffy rolled her eyes as she hit the mute button.

Spike smirked. “She knows? How the hell did she find out?”

“I am so gonna kill Xander. I’ll bet Xander sold us out.” Buffy hit the mute button again.

“You muted me? You….muted me? You bitch! Spike is alive and you didn’t tell me? When did you find out? How is he alive? Where are you? Are you really in England with Giles or on some exotic island with Spike? You’re not dead again are you? No…that’s just silly….besides, you wouldn’t have answered your phone….”

“Dawn. Stop. Just give me one minute.” Buffy was able to get the words in between the questions. When Dawn finally stopped, Buffy spoke, “Spike is with me now.”

“He is? Let me talk to him.”

“In a minute. Let me explain first.” Buffy was exasperated.

“No. Let Spike do the explaining. Like I can believe anything out of your duplicitous mouth.” Dawn was proud of her big words. Duplicitous = lying, sneaky. Yup, that’s Buffy.

“Duplicitous? I’m gonna have to look that up. Oh, right. You go to college and I pay for it!”

“Hey, so now you know what you’re getting for your dollar.” Dawn finally stooped to begging. “Put him on…please.”

Buffy smiled and handed the phone to Spike. She knew there was something very special between them. Dawn was a little in love with Spike. She couldn’t blame her now, could she? But she was secure that their relationship was somewhere between sibling and friend. No…more than that. If she let herself think too much she’d be jealous. She understood that Dawn had a place in Spike’s heart that would never be hers. She took a deep breath and thought… S’OK, I get the rest!

They were on the phone long enough for Buffy to shower and change. God only knows what on earth they talked about but half the time Spike was laughing….not something you expect from William the Bloody Scourge of Europe. He hung up before giving her a chance to say bye but he told her that Dawn (aka Bit) would be coming for Thanksgiving.

“I told her we don’t do Thanksgiving, but she told me that you and Xander did and she was coming to join you….oh, and Giles.”

“Good. It’ll be fun. She’ll stay at the dorm.”

“Why can’t she stay here?” Spike asked.

“Because I’m not sharing!” Buffy said as she pinched his bum.

~~~

Binnemon watched as the guards straggled in from work. One short again tonight. Were they taking off on their own? He considered questioning them but already knew they would give the usual answer. "Don't know. No. Nothing unusual happened. Business as usual." Stupid minions. Did they really think he believed their bullshit?

"Bastard, starving us when all those plump little girls are ripe for the pickin’." One of the vampires lagging behind groused to another.

Binnemon heard and backhanded him to the ground. The other vampires scattered, and gaped, wondering how a fat little old man could move so fast. Binnemon jerked the victim to his feet.

"Son of a Bitch." Binnemon said, smashing the vampire's cheek. Bone cracked. Binnemon carefully planted another blow in the same place. Again. And Again. He dropped the battered vampire, and hissed, "You need me, Matthew. I, on the other hand, don't need you, no way, no how."

He rounded on the other vampires. "I don't need any of you. You're worthless, dead-meat, idiots that would be ash in the wind if I didn't tell you what to do."

"Mark."

Binnemon swung back to the vampire on the ground, incredulous. "What did you say?"

"Name…Mark."

"No." Binnemon ripped a slat of wood from a nearby rack and plunged it into Mark's chest. "It's Ash."

The minions backed against the wall and tried to look small.

"Anybody else got somethin’ to say?" Binnemon grinned savagely, satisfied with the chorus of 'No!'s. "Get to your duties or I’ll forget to be nice.” He grabbed the bottle of wine left exposed when he broke the rack. He leaned against the broken rack. Stupid sods wouldn’t be comin’ near him anytime soon. He pulled the cork and poured the liquid down his throat, grateful it hadn’t turned to vinegar but thinking about the glorious drinking he planned for later.

He watched as they got busy with their chores. When they were absorbed in what they were doing, he’d go and make damn sure none of them followed when he left.

~~~

Many thanks to beta: myfeetshowit, the very best of the best!

Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. Original characters are mine.

Chapter 22 ~ Crux

Binnemon walked around the back of Tudor Hall. On the way, he spotted the new blonde with the guy all done up in black. He had noticed them walking the grounds at night before. Funny, that. Thinks she can ignore the curfew and her with a lad that looks to be a punk. Probably likes violence and horror. Could show him some horror, he thought. He leaned against a tree, watching the lights go out one by one. Not all, though. There were always a few night owls busy studying or doing girly things to their hair and faces and fingernails. He was around so often now that when he appeared in a doorway after a gentle knock the girls hardly noticed. Those that did would even greet him; happy to know they were well guarded and safe. He was the chief night guard making rounds. What could be more normal? Too bad Fiona couldn’t see him now. She always thought he was headstrong. Too bad she wasn’t around to see how clever and patient he was.

Tonight was to be his payoff. He felt like a king with Armstrong’s fire still in his veins. He was a king, a god. Tonight, he would shut up the demon that tormented him to find out if Armstrong was the only sacred cow. If the others were like her, he could look forward to a whole alphabet of that precious nectar.

He had already chose his quarry. Chastity Baker was one of the youngest girls in the school at fifteen. An orphan. Lost her family when she was six in a motor accident. Her extended family was all gone as well. Her foster family was thrilled to be rid of her, said she was ‘difficult’ and had a violent temper. Nobody would miss her if anything did go wrong. She was a tiny thing with a peaches and cream complexion and naturally curly blond hair and from the same part of Ireland as Binnemon. They had the same accent and she took a particular liking to him. She said she welcomed his visits and laughed telling him he looked like her Granddad but she remembered her Granddad had more hair. He laughed too because tonight the joke would be on her. After all, he wasn’t quite the good man that Rupert Giles once called him…
~~

In mid November, the evening air was chill and damp around the hills of West Gloucestershire where the Academy was located. Eerie mists formed in the valleys and moved with the air currents as the sun went down. “Sorta creepy, huh?” Buffy giggled nervously.

“What’s the matter Slayer, going soft?” Spike said, walking along beside her, pacing his stride to match her shorter one.

“No… it’s just different. Foreign. I know that doesn’t make any sense, but the vibes on this side of the ocean are different. Vamps are vamps and demons are demons, but these speak with your accent. It’s way weird.”

“Not my accent. I’m from London. Born and bred. I can sound like the proper Eton and Oxford trained Englishman that I am or I can sound like a tough from North London…. This, by the way, is what I choose. Whatever you hear around here is something else altogether, innit?”

“You’re right. It’s silly, it’s just that my tinglies are super tingly.”

With eyebrow raised and patented lewd sneer he made a move to tackle her. She anticipated the move, slipped away, and ran laughing all the way. “Hey Slayer, did you ever stop to think that your tinglies are all about me?” He yelled as he caught her around the waist, spun her around, and dropped her to the ground landing on top of her between her spread legs.

“Mmmm, home at last!” Spike said growling as her heat spread to his loins.

She laughed and tried to catch her breath as he settled himself in place. They locked eyes and he captured her mouth in a thorough kiss. Buffy stroked her hands along the length of his arms and wrapped them around his shoulders. Making yummy moans, she tangled her fingers in his curls, and deepened the kiss while Spike’s hands found their way under her shirt.

Buffy squirmed at his cold touch and squealed into his mouth, “Eeeee! Cold!”

His mouth, never leaving hers, spread in a broad smile as he teased her erect nipple. The touch triggered a response deep inside Buffy and she wiggled her hips beneath him. Now it was his turn to moan as she encircled her legs around him.

He groaned and she said, “We’re supposed to be working here. It’s not like we don’t have a bed at home.”

He sighed and took his hand from her breast. She took it to mean he was angry, but before she could speak, he thrust his fingers inside her pants. “The law demands workers get a break from time to time…. Just think of this as a break,” he whispered in her ear as he sucked and nibbled her ear lobe. He growled. All she could think was, “talk about tingles!”

Suddenly Spike stilled, a predator sensing prey.

“Oh, don’t be mad,” Buffy whined.

He didn’t answer as he lifted his head alert to everything around him. He whispered, “It’s a demon, Buffy. Run, Buffy. Run.” Lifting himself off her, he helped her up in one incredibly fast move.

“Have you lost your mind? You want me to run?” Buffy said, brushing the grass and dew from her clothes, confused and unaware of the danger he sensed

“Jesus Christ, Buffy. Shut up. You’re in danger. Run”

“Excuse me? I don’t run. I kill demons.” Her tone hardened. “I kill vampires,” she said.

“It’s got this thing…” Spike balled his fists and growled. “Nevermind. Will you please do what I say? Don’t stop until you get to the cottage. Call Giles. Tell him it’s a gnarvole. Bring help. Run! Now!” Spike roared.

She startled at his tone. He frightened her…. For one moment, one moment only, she hesitated. She had to trust him. She turned and ran. At exactly that moment, the air filled with a strange smelling mist. Suddenly her chest felt tight making her cough. The earth rumbled beneath her. Spike was yelling, goading the ‘What was it…gnarvole? Right.’ and using some new words. The sound of pounding flesh filled the air along with the roar of battle. Abruptly Spike fell silent followed by the weird wail of the creature. A sickening thought entered Buffy’s mind and she tried to push it away. “No…He’s OK. Oh God, let him be OK,” she prayed. She wanted to go back. They were a team. Together they could beat anything. Buffy felt her eyes fill with tears. “Stupid vampire,” she said pumping her legs to go as fast as they could. She had to get help.

~~~

The girl was nothing to him, Binnemon thought, except perhaps a particularly tasty meal; still, her death was likely to cause him problems. His plan had worked perfectly for six months without a kill. He did not intend to have all he worked for go down the toilet just because these teachers and professors finally got their heads out of their asses long enough to figure things out.

With all the blood loss, it had to look like a murder…it would have been so much easier if it could have seemed like a simple suicide. The girl had no family, few friends in school…he had no idea how her grades were, but that didn’t matter…kids killed themselves all the time for failing… or just not succeeding enough. Shit, they lost hope if they broke a nail. Kids didn’t think about eternity.

His plan to fake a suicide didn’t work out…not when she started fighting back. She was no bigger than a minute but fought like an Amazon.

At first, it all went well. Binnemon chatted her up a bit. She told him once that he reminded her of her Granddad which made her sad, and he lent a sympathetic ear. That was the easy part. Then, the trance. She had no idea. None of them ever did. One minute they were there…and the next they weren’t.

When he was doing his…research…to work out his plan, he learned that women were horny. He found that once you take away the inhibitions, they were all horny. On that account, when he pulled off her pants and stuck his hand in her panties and she moaned…that was all he needed to hear. His fangs dropped and he went for her groin and that great big throbbing femoral artery. She didn’t object. She liked it…and so did he. And what do you know? It was just like he thought…more of that mind-blowing blood.

The thing is, Binnemon hadn’t been with a woman in over twenty years. Oh, he fucked plenty of undead …they were there for the taking anytime…and Fiona had as sweet a quim as a man could imagine. No, he hadn’t been near a warm wet cunt in a long, long time. His wife was dead long before he was turned and there was no sex for years before that. So when this one started moaning as if she was
enjoying it, he couldn’t resist. He pulled out his amazing, hard dick that had never been like that in life and made ready to mount her.

With his hand wrapped around his cock, he slid it up and down her opening to get it wet and almost came right then and there…she was ready all right! He spread her thighs, positioned himself at her opening, and began to thrust when suddenly she reared up and pushed him off. He flew across the room like a rag doll. She screamed and called him a filthy, fat pig and it occurred to him that maybe there were things that thrall didn’t mask after all.

He tried to talk her down, but the spell was broken. She kept screaming about the grandfather- look- alike trying to fuck her. Angry, ear-splitting shrieks rang. Maybe it had something to do with how strong she was.

Binnemon didn’t want to kill her. He had no choice. He had to shut her up. With vampire speed, he crossed the room and reached for her head. One quick snap, he thought, and the room would be quiet again, but it didn’t happen that way. The whole thing was beyond him…how was it that this tiny child gave him the fight of his life.

Finally, it was over. He got banged up but he managed to get the better of her and ended it with a quick twist.

Quiet.

He waited for the sound of shouting and sirens or alarms, but they never came. The whole thing felt like a lifetime but was over in seconds.

…and then, he looked around the room…this didn’t look like a suicide. This wasn’t how the way he ran his neat little operation. This was a disaster. He sat quiet for a moment to think… It seemed impossible that no one heard…were the rooms soundproof?

Slowly, a smile spread across his face. That blood made him invincible. He was a fuckin’ potentate. He just had to think and his mind was working like a computer…only faster.

He hadn’t bled her dry.

Binnemon ripped the torn panties off her lifeless body and threw them on the floor. Now the scene looked like a rape gone bad.

The bite marks…there would be an autopsy. They’d see the bite marks…

He stood slowly and pulled his Swiss Army knife out of his pocket…He opened it, ran his finger along the blade, and smiled. In his moment of panic, his demon face had receded. Now, he looked even more terrifying than a vampire. His eyes had gone black and his smile became a sneer as he relished the crime he was about to commit. He drank her blood, he broke her neck and now...he would desecrate her body.

Binnemon sat on a chair pulled off his shoes and pushed them under the chair. Then he removed his clothing, carefully folding each piece, never taking his eyes off the prize. There was going to be a lot of blood. What a terrible waste, he thought.

He began by slitting her throat resisting another taste and then randomly stabbed at her breasts and abdomen, finally slicing her groin where he’d bitten her. He calmly stepped back and surveyed his work…yes; it would be all right…the savage wound in her groin would hide the fang marks. It looked like all the others-- inflicted in rage.

He reconstructed the whole thing in his mind and was sure he muddled the evidence sufficiently to keep them on a wild goose chase for a good long time. He glanced out the window and saw no one. He picked up the dead rag doll that Chastity had become and threw her body through the window. Poking his head out through the shattered glass, he saw her broken, twisted body lying in the bushes and was pleased.

Lucky for him, there was a sink in the room. He washed the blood away, rinsed the sink, and dressed. He left the room quietly, exiting the building without seeing another person. Pity it had ended so badly, he thought. She was delectable, and there were so many more to be tasted. He felt like whistling.

~~~

The apelike beast had arms, legs, and a head. After that, all similarity to humanity ended. It was round and taller than Spike. Rusty colored and covered with a hard shell like scales. Its hands were equipped with curved blades that receded into the joint above the thumb and the many-fingered hands cupped into tongs.

Spike wasn’t about to wait for it to take the first blow. He leapt and twisted flinging his legs at the beast. It sidestepped to avoid the blow. Spike laughed and said, “Well aren’t you the nimble fucker. Knew about your kind, but never met one before. Are you all that round or are you just well fed?”

It never spoke, but emitted a misty spray from its face that engulfed Spike. Raising his hands to his face, he dropped to his knees, grabbed his throat and fell to the ground. With Spike still on the ground, the beast took its place over his shoulders, the thumb blade out and ready. Spike forced his elbows out and knocked the creature off balance.

“Points to you, beastie. I knew about that spray thing you got. Didn’t think it would bother me though,” Spike said. “See, it don’t make me helpless like you was expectin’.” He raised his hands to his throat again as his voice decreased to a whisper and then disappeared altogether. His expression went from startled to understanding to angry in the blink of an eye. The mist was supposed to render the victim helpless, that is, if the victim isn’t undead. The creature looked bewildered. Spike sneered and said, “Have I spoiled your day, then?” He went right on talking even if he was the only one listening. “Thems you spray don’t get up again, eh? Well, I guess that’s all the better for me. I reckon it’s time you learned what it’s like when somebody fights back.”

Spike barreled at him with every thing he had. He wasn’t going to take any chances with this one. He knew they traveled in packs and more would be coming along sooner rather than later. The thing fell back but remained upright, its scaly skin ripping Spike’s ear. “Right then, mate,” he said as his hand went to his ear. It was still there.

“Just fist and fangs, suits me. Pity you don’t get the pleasure of my rapier wit. Doesn’t mean I can’t entertain myself while I tear you to pieces for ruinin’ my evenin’. I was about to be talked into a very nice shag.”

He bounced on his feet shifting his weight from side to side, as he decided where to strike this time. Shifting into game face, he heard the creature make a noise that might have been a gasp. “Damn right, you smelly fat fucker. You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”

He ran into the monster again, but this time down low like a football tackle and sent him rolling down the hill. “Well now, look at you! I wonder if you’re like a turtle on its back. Damn funny, that. You, trying to right yourself. Picked the wrong bloke to start a fight with this time, eh?”

Spike followed his opponent down the hill and kicked him in the head making it spit out more of the stinking mist. The monster took advantage of the momentary distraction as Spike instinctively covered his face and wrapped his hand (tong) around Spike’s ankle bringing him down. Now on a level playing field, Spike tucked his hand inside his sleeve for protection and delivered a roundhouse right directly into the spout on the thing’s face. The sound it made was more a howl than a roar. Different from the sound it made before, Spike worried that it was a distress signal.

Quickly, Spike got to his feet. He wanted the advantage of height. In a split second, the rusty colored monster rolled between Spike’s legs, raised its arm and slashed the curved blade between Spike’s legs. It cut through his pants tearing a gash in his leg, and ripping open the sac that held his balls. Only Spike could hear his own scream as blood poured from his wounds.

He dropped to his knees and tried to ignore the searing pain as he watched the thing regain its footing. “That’s it, then. I admit it. Made a big mistake, I did. Shouldn’t ‘a’ played with you. Shoulda just offed you right at the start. Shame, shame on me. Well, say goodbye, ‘cause I’m the last thing you’ll ever see.”

Spike lunged at its legs and dug his fingers into scaly skin as deep as he could, ripping off his own fingernails on the way. The thing was single minded as it grabbed onto Spike’s balls and snapped its claw shut around them. Spike howled a silent scream, seized the beast’s head and twisted. Lifeless, the monster fell with Spike’s jewels locked in a death grip.

“Right then,” Spike thought, “ in 150 odd years I’ve been stabbed, shot, drowned, choked, punched, flipped, thrown off roofs and out windows. I thought I knew every kind of pain…but this is new.”

In an instant, the realization hit him.

“Bollocks, I’m gonna die. I can’t even cry out. That spray shit took away my voice. It’ll be sun-up in a bit and I’ll fly away in a burst of embers unless its mate, brother, or sister finds me and finishes me off first.” He winced, “Fuck, this hurts.”

Spike turned his thoughts to Buffy.

“Aw luv, done it again, haven’t I? Fucked things up permanent, I think. No more miracles for me. I know you did your best, but by the time you get to the cottage and call the watcher and he called the boy…it’s just too much time. The rest of those beasts will have come and taken care of business before you and your cavalry get here. Hell, I don’t want you to see me like this anyway. Jesus, it hurts.” He tried to move but it only pulled against the monster’s grip “Aaarrrghh…’S my fault. I got cocky. I really thought we were gonna make it this time, baby. I was starting to believe the Powers were on our side. Guess I was wrong. Shoulda been smarter, more vigilant.” His words came in grunts and squeaks now. The paralytic mist was starting to wear off. Spike was nearly bled out and he knew it. Even if he had his voice, he didn’t have the strength to yell. “No blood left in me. Maybe I’ll be gone before sunup. ’m sorry, pet. I love you. Oh Buffy, ’m so sorry, I love you, pet.” With those words as his mantra, the pain became unbearable and Spike lost consciousness.
~~~

Chapter ~ 23 ~ Deliverance

Buffy ran as fast as she could. She hated leaving Spike to fight alone. “Oh God, let him be all right.” At Slayer speed, it only took a few minutes for her to reach the cottage. Her hands shook as she tried to turn the lock with her key. She dropped it twice and cursed using Spike words. She had no idea what they meant, but nobody swore better than Spike. “Oh God, let him be all right.”

Once inside she flicked on the light, grabbed the phone, and asked the operator to get Mr. Giles immediately. “It’s an emergency.” And she waited. “C’mon, c’mon…Giles, where are you?” She shouted into the phone unable to keep still. Her face was wet with tears and her clothes were soaked with sweat. She thought of Spike out there alone with ….that…..knarlock thingy and yelled in the phone again. “That’s not right! Gnarly, nervy...something. Whatever it was… it scared Spike and he isn’t afraid of anything. Oh God, oh God, oh God”…it had become her litany.

Finally, Giles came to the phone sounding the essence of the calm professional, “This is Mr. Giles. How may I help you?”

“Where in God’s name have you been?” Buffy screamed into the mouthpiece. She was frantic, “Help," she begged, "I need your help! It’s Spike.”

Giles tone became deathly serious. “What has he done to you? Where are you?”

“Giles, he may be hurt…he may be dying…oh God, he may be dead. Haven’t you gotten it through that thick British skull of yours that he will never, ever hurt me?” she wept. “Just come get me at the cottage, no more talk. Now…quick…” with that, she hung up.
~~~
Giles was stunned. Her tone terrified him. It wasn't like her to lose control.. It always seemed the greater the danger, the greater her resolve. He called Xander and told him he was coming by to pick him up, then snatched up his car keys and ran out of the house. With heart pounding against his chest and echoing in his ears and sweaty and shaky hands, he turned the key, slammed his foot to the pedal and screeched out of the driveway. ‘What in hell has happened? She would never talk to me like that. This is bad. Damn! I didn’t even stop long enough to grab a weapon.’ His thoughts continued along the same line for the minutes it took him to reach his destination. Xander was standing outside with no coat on and a sack over his shoulder wearing only his pajama bottoms and a tee shirt. The brakes squealed complaint as Giles applied them sharply.

“What the fuck is going on?” Xander said as he climbed into the car. Giles pulled away before Xander closed the door. “Jesus Christ, Giles…” he said, pulling the door closed against whatever force was pulling it open. ‘...another addition to the list of stuff I should have learned in high school.’ He clicked his seatbelt and feared for his life.

“Just get in…..It’s Buffy. Something’s happened to Spike.” Giles was clearly not in the mood to fill in any blanks.

Xander wisely decided to wait and see what happened and then on second thought said, “I’ve brought weapons.”

Giles didn’t answer, just nodded.

As they approached the cottage, Giles caught sight of Buffy in the headlights. He could see her face was dirty and tear stained; there were grass stains on her jeans. She looked frightened and small. She ran toward them barely giving him time to stop before climbing in the car.

“I could hear you coming.” Buffy said, catching her breath. “Thanks for hurrying.” She told them where to go, and filled them in on what happened as they sped in the direction she indicated.

As Giles listened to Buffy’s story, he felt himself begin to calm. Perhaps the situation wasn’t as bad as he originally thought. He even slowed down a little. “It’s a gnarvole,” he said, “Not a knarlock.”

“A what?” both Buffy and Xander said.

“A gnarvole demon. Nasty creatures. I had no idea there were any around here. We’re going to have to find them and destroy them. If they multiply, the entire region will be in mortal danger.”

“Oh great…just great. We’ve been here nearly two whole years living a peaceful, quiet, academic existence and Spike and Buffy show up and all of a sudden we’re up to our k-nees in k-nasties.”

“Thank you, Xander, that will be enough,” said Giles. “Buffy, in all likelihood, Spike saved your life.”

“I saw the look on his face when he told me to keep running. I knew it was serious. We’ve taken out plenty of demons together, all kinds of demons and he never chased me away from a good fight. Giles, he has to be all right. I don’t think I can handle losing him again.”

“I wouldn’t worry Buffy; Spike hasn’t been around this long without knowing how to handle himself. We’ll probably see him walking along the road any time now.”

“Well, why did he chase me away then?”

Giles took a deep sigh. “You know, Buffy, if you’d ever taken the time to learn about demons as I asked you to, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”

“Right. So the real Giles is still alive and well,” Buffy's voice rose, “and bugging my butt. Answer the question.” After a stern look from Giles, she said, “…please.”

“All beings have a means of self defense given to them by God, if that is your belief. Or, all creatures have evolved with a means of self-defense against the kinds of enemies they might encounter. Sometimes that means of self defense is also used as a tool for survival of the species,” said Giles, settling into teacher mold.

“Same thing!” Xander said and tried to imagine himself one day having all this stuff in his head. The mental image was fuzzy.

“Not necessarily,” Giles continued. “The gnarvole perpetuates its race by eating the sex organs of other species. Without it, they do not have sufficient hormones to reproduce themselves; thus, during the mating season, the gnarvole, which by the way are hermaphroditic, collect gonads from other species,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “These organs are rich in the material they need and consequently, they are able to procreate.”

“That is just gross,” snarled Xander. “So they just wander up and bop their victim on the head and take their parts?”

“Actually, and this is the reason I say Spike saved your life, Buffy, they emit a gaseous spray from a sinus on their forehead that seals the airway of its victim. Being unable to breathe, the prey loses consciousness very quickly and dies. The gnarvole then uses a curved knife that springs from its thumb…rather like a tool to open clams…It incises into a woman’s abdomen to collect her ovaries or opens the scrotum and squeezes out the testes.”

Xander crossed his legs.

Buffy never took her eyes from the road as she scanned for Spike. She couldn’t help thinking they should have seen him by now. “And that’s why you think Spike is not in danger?”

Xander supplied the answer, “Duh. He doesn’t need air so he wouldn’t lose consciousness.” After a beat he said, “Sometimes it pays to have a vampire around. Bet you’d never thought you’d hear me say that!”

Xander hoped his feeble attempt at humor would bring a smile to Buffy’s face, but when their eyes met, all he saw was worry. “Then why haven’t we seen him?” she said.

“You’re right, Buffy,” said Giles. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“Positive. Here! Stop the car.” Shining a flashlight on the ground, she said, “See? There! You can see the grass all torn up where I ran.”

“Then he should be here somewhere.” Shutting down the engine, he climbed out of the car and called out, “Spike!” Buffy and Xander followed suit listening after each call but the only sound was the rustling of leaves under their feet and their own voices. Even the night music was silent.

Giles gave them torches from his boot and Xander passed out weapons. They spread out a little and followed Buffy's lead, calling Spike’s name. Buffy spotted something at the bottom of the hill. She called out to Giles and Xander and took off at a run down the steep incline. Giles and Xander followed. Xander went head over heels and Giles stopped to help him up just as Buffy shouted out, “He’s here.”

She knelt at Spike’s side, caressed his cheek tenderly and said softly, “Oh God, what’s happened to you?” Spike made no sound. His face was so cold. ‘Of course he’s cold. He’s dead. He’s always cold. How do you tell a dead vampire from a cold vampire?’ Buffy felt her eyes well up with more tears and a sob caught in her throat. “Oh, please don’t be a dead vampire,” she cried. She saw that the gnarly-thing lay next to him. “I knew you’d get him,” she said. She pulled at Spike’s thigh to roll him over. He moaned and her hand came away wet with blood. “Hurry!” she yelled to the others. “Oh, please hurry.”

The two men picked up their pace sidestepping down the hill and turned their torches on the scene. They saw that Spike was apparently unconscious and the gnarvole was dead next to him. Spike’s pants glistened with moisture in the light. Giles gave Buffy a questioning look.

“It’s blood,” she said.

Xander bent over at the waist with his hands on his knees gulping air, “Jesus, it took his ‘nads,” he said.

Spike groaned, “Didn’t take ‘em. Just has a grip on ‘em.”

Buffy caressed Spike’s head and face and showered him with kisses. “Thank God. You're not dead... Yes, you are but you're alive...No, you're not. Oh... Let’s just get you out of here.”

She grasped him under his arms and told Xander to grab his legs. Spike screamed, “No! Christ no! The bastard’s got its paw locked around my balls. I can’t move.” He pleaded with them, “Please don’t try to move me. I don’t think I can take it.”

Xander said, “Man.” Spike sounded pitiful. Scary.

“What are we going to do?” Buffy asked.

“Surgery,” Giles answered.

“Hey!” cried Spike and Buffy.

“What? We will saw the beast’s arm off and get you to the school’s infirmary to separate you from your captor. Xander you stay here with Buffy and Spike. I’ll go back to my place and get a saw.”

“What kind of saw?” Xander asked.

“A saw, Xander. You bloody well know what a saw is.”

“You’ll need a reciprocating saw if you don’t want to do damage to Spike.” Xander offered.

Suddenly Spike spoke up, his voice weak, “Bloody hell, listen to the man, watcher. He’s a carpenter.”

“But he’s not a surgeon.”

“…and you bloody well are?” whispered Spike.

Giles waffled. Xander was an experienced carpenter. He would know the right kind of thing to use. “Very well, then. Xander you go back and get what we need and make it quick, Spike’s in pain and losing blood.”

Xander jumped to attention, did an exaggerated salute, and said, “Aye, sir!”

~~~
Xander maintained control by taking deep cleansing breaths. Now he was close to hyperventilating. ‘Wrong! It was just wrong. Doing that to a guy? Man...it shouldn’t happen to nobody, not never, no how, no way. It’s just wrong.’ Xander’s mind was racing as he tried to gather every ounce of smarts he had so that he could get the things he needed and get back to that crime scene as fast as he could. ‘OK, sort it out. Prioritize. The easiest thing is the right saw…That’ll be in the groundskeeper’s tool shed. I have Giles’ keys and he should have a key to everything on the property. Yeah, right. He should. That’s how a carpenter thinks…a tradesperson…practical. Giles is a fucking headmaster. What does he know about practical?’ He nodded as a thought came into his head, ‘It’s OK though, I have my ax. I can bust the lock if I need to.’

He drove recklessly. ‘Man, if a squirrel jumps out in front of me, me and the squirrel are finito! I’m gonna need a tree limb attachment if I want to do this thing with as little pain to Spike as possible. It’ll grasp the gnarly dude’s arm and hold it still while the saw does the work. Shouldn’t cause too much movement in the hand…that’s holding on to Spike’s nuts… Aaagh! Christ! I can’t stand to think of it!’
~~~
Giles lost himself in thought as they waited for Xander. ‘How unusual it is for Spike to be so quiet. I’ve been through very nearly every kind of hell with him. Hated him. Contrived to have him killed and now I’m terrified we might lose him. It’s...unsettling.’

Giles looked down at Buffy as she gently cradled Spike’s head in her lap. He thought that she looked helpless; all she could do was pet him and tell him that she loved him. Giles ran his hands through his hair. It felt damp from the night air or maybe he was sweating, he wasn’t sure. He listened to Buffy coo to her lover between sobs. He knew he had brought the couple back together but being witness to this intimacy was uncomfortable. He felt like a voyeur.

“Buffy,” Giles said, taking off his jacket, “Perhaps we should try to warm Spike. Here, take my coat.”

“Of course,” Buffy said, “thank you, that’s a good idea.” Buffy threw Giles coat over Spike’s shoulders and then took off her own and covered his torso.

Spike didn’t bother to tell them it made no difference to him. He smiled despite the pain as he thought he was the definition of a “cold-blooded” creature. They wanted to help and he found himself pitying them. No, not pity, he empathized with them. He remembered too well, what it felt like to be unable to help.

Giles tried offering comfort, paced and polished his glasses as he wondered what was keeping Xander. He folded his handkerchief to return to his pocket. He thought for a moment and then offered Spike his handkerchief to use as a compress against his wound. Spike met the watcher’s eyes and muttered about movement and pain. What Giles saw in those eyes filled him with sorrow.

He wanted to reassure Buffy that Spike would be all right but he didn’t know that. Giles feared that Spike was beyond help. In the torchlight, he could see that Spike had lost a great deal of blood. The wounds were still oozing. He couldn’t recall any documented cases of vampires dying of blood loss, but he knew it couldn’t be good. Spike was rambling incoherently at times and it sounded as though the grasping hand was not the only concern. He was talking about a stab wound as well. It hardly seemed possible, but the situation could be even worse.

Giles worried at what was keeping Xander. 'The boy took charge in such a commanding manner. I'm ashamed. He's not a boy anymore. He's even man enough to let me continue treating him like one. Perhaps it suits us both,' he thought. 'He needs a father and...' his thoughts trailed off as he heard the sound of a roaring engine and screeching tires.

“Thank God.”
~~~
The scene Xander beheld as he drove up did nothing to lift his spirits. His task was grim and he steeled himself to face it. Handling dead things was never on his to-do list. Neither was dismembering dead things. Buffy was sobbing as she tried to comfort Spike who lay curled on his side with that thing’s hand between his legs. Giles, the rock upon whom they all depended looked old and weary and defeated.

Xander stood tall, threw his shoulders back and took a deep breath. “So, looks like I get to be the take-charge guy.” He met his team eye to eye and set to work. “Alrighty then, I think I’ve got everything we need and a job for everyone,” he said as he lit a Coleman lantern and set it on high. “No use you guys just sitting around here watching the master carpenter at work.” He made a halfhearted attempt at a smile and got blank stares in return. “Buffy... I brought blankets. I think one under Spike’s head and one over his shoulders and another over his legs. That will leave the... area... we’re working on… open.” What he didn’t say was that he wanted to hide what they were doing from Spike and Buffy. “You can manage that, right?”

“Um…yeah. I’ll do that... but listen, Spike doesn’t want to move. It hurts him too much.” She met Xander’s gaze and saw that he would brook no objection. She nodded in quick assent, bent over, kissed Spike on the forehead, and said, “I’ll get you fixed up fine. I’ll be right back.”

“Just let the man do his job, Slayer,” Spike said.

Xander admired Spike at that moment. “Thanks, man,” was all he said. He turned to the Headmaster, “Giles, I grabbed a coffee mug with a cover….”

“You stopped for coffee?” Giles interrupted, incredulous.

Xander was already out of patience but remained calm, took another deep breath and instead of being his usual smart-mouth self, he just said, “The mug is for blood….it has a mouthpiece so Spike can drink it lying on his side without moving much.”

“Oh,” Giles cleared his throat and sputtered, “well done.”

“There’s a bottle of Jack Daniels over there too. The blood is cold, so add a little to the blood to dilute it. It’ll help warm Spike up from the inside.”

“Add a lot,” was all Spike said.

That got a smile out of Xander. “Hey Spike, the Xandman is in control.”

“Sounds like…” he answered.

“Buffy, here’s what I need you to do. I know Spike is weak, but I have to believe that neither Giles nor I could hold him if he moves, so you have three jobs. You’re all about the multi-tasking, right? It’s a woman thing, I hear.” He tried another smile and got no response, just a frightened vacant stare.

“Right... You have to keep Spike calm, feed him his cocktail and hold him down if necessary. Can you do that?”

She answered in a very small voice; “I can do that.”

“OK then….Giles?” He held up an apparatus and showed it to Giles. “This is a tree limb attachment. We’re gonna fasten it onto the creature’s arm to hold it steady so the arm won’t move when I make the cut.” He handed Giles a pair of work gloves and put on a pair himself. “These should keep our hands from getting slippery from the blood and whatever that thing oozes. You good with that?”

“What? Oh, yes... I can do that.” For just a moment, Xander thought he was losing Giles too. ‘How weird is this? I’m the one with the backbone. Who’da thunk it?’
~~~
"Buffy, would you reach over and turn up that light, please," Xander said, sweat dripping in his eyes.

"Of course," she said. "Which knobbie? This one?"

Xander, not wanting to take his eyes from his work, glanced quickly at where she pointed. “Yeah, Buff, that’s the one. Just turn it slow--”

Before he could finish what he was saying, Buffy twisted the knob and the light went out.

“--ly, be...cause it’s sensitive and it might go out.” Xander finished as they were thrust into utter darkness.

Buffy shrieked, “Aaaak! What’d I do? I can’t see. Fix it! Do something!”

“Swell. OK. I’m cool...No. I’m not!” Xander said, trying not to lose control. “I really want to stand up and throw something and say lots of rude things to my best friend but I can’t because if I do that...I may castrate the object of her affection...and then I’m next on the Bobbit trail.”

Giles sighed. “Buffy, just get the damned light working again. Xander, tell her what she needs to do.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh God, I’m sorry. Tell me what to do. I’ll listen, I promise. I want to help. You know, it’s hard being the helpless one.”

“Yeah, I get that. I'll tell you what would help," he said. "Daylight. This working in the dark is for the birds." He cringed as he realized what he said.

“Oh, right then…. That would make it easier. I just bloody well turn to dust and problem solved.” Spike’s voice was thready and barely audible raising Xander’s concern several notches.

“You knew what I meant. Look, I’m trying here. Do you think you could shut your yap for just a minute?” was Xander’s retort. He realized how harsh that sounded and added, “Only thinking of you, honey,” and hoped the joke softened the remark.

“All right, Buffy, here’s what you need to do.” Xander gave Buffy explicit step-by-step instructions for relighting the lamp and returned to his grisly task with renewed vigor.

Suddenly Xander yelled, “Yes!” He raised his hand in cheer. “Spike, my man, you are no longer connected to Mr. Gnarlybutt.”

The joy lasted only a moment. Once the hand was severed and it released its grip on his parts, Spike screamed. Roared! A horrible, wounded animal sound. A sound that reminded them of what Spike was and in a way that was unforgettable. Giles stepped away, his thoughts turning to the behavior of wounded animals. After an attack like this, he had to wonder how much humanity was left in Spike. It made him shiver with worry for Buffy.

Spike slowly reached down to check himself out. He needed to see if he was still whole. “Damn, my hand is numb. I can’t fuckin’ feel anything.” He pulled his hand away and saw it soaked in blood. His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

Giles decided to keep his fear that they may still have to neuter Spike to himself.
~~~
Giles was grateful that Spike lost consciousness as they moved him to the car. His ears were ringing with the memory of the screams. "Buffy, you get in first and take Spike's head and shoulders and Xander and I will lift him onto the back seat...."

“’s right, luv, just lay my head in your lap. You know, the way I like.” Spike said.

Giles rolled his eyes skyward and said, “So much for unconscious.”
~~~
No one can deny that the scent of fresh coffee brewing is a most welcome thing. Xander and Giles relaxed as the homey aroma filled the room. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and Giles and Xander busied themselves about the cottage. Xander started a fire in the hearth and Giles was making tea. Xander said he didn’t trust Giles to make the coffee. The two of them rummaged through the kitchen for food. Considering the night they had been through, it was a wonder anyone had an appetite, but evidently a modicum of success made people ravenous. In truth, they were killing time while Spike and Buffy were in the bathroom tending his wounds.

The situation was awkward at best. Neither one of them was particularly comfortable with Spike and Buffy’s relationship. Oh, it was accepted enough in theory, but coming face to face with it…sitting in what had become their home…with the two of them in the bathroom…while she tended his wounded parts, well, it created a visual with which they were…well, uncomfortable.

Giles and Xander cleaned up as best they could in the kitchen. They both felt a little gamey but no one was going anywhere until they were sure Buffy and Spike were OK and didn’t need any further assistance. Besides, this situation definitely called for a debriefing and the best time for that is always as soon as possible after the event.

The sounds coming from the bathroom colored the imagination. The occasional scream and muttered conversations peppered with “Bloody hell, woman! Leave some skin.” and “I can make it all better in about one second with a STAKE!” were actually entertaining. Xander and Giles knew that if he was yelling he was probably OK; and if Buffy thought she was in danger of losing him she wouldn’t be threatening him with a stake.

After the better portion of an hour, the bathroom door opened, steam poured out and Buffy emerged looking somewhat the worse for wear. Her clothing was damp and clingy, her hair was wet and stringy... but she was smiling.

“I smell coffee,” she said as she made her way to the kitchen. “Thanks guys.”

“Yeah, and we put out some of the leftover croissants with butter and jelly. I’ve got some eggs all scrambled and ready to cook when you’re ready.”

“Aw Xander, that’s so nice.”

Giles and Xander exchanged glances. She was positively cheery. Go figure.

“Just give me a couple of minutes and I’ll bring the patient out. Um...I might need some help…I’ll let you know,” Buffy said heading back to the bathroom.

Xander turned to Giles, “You think I should start the eggs?”
~~~

Title: Goodbye, Mr. Giles
Author: Aamah
Pairing: S/B
Rating by chapter: Chapter 24 ~ R
Genre: Post NFA ~ General
Warning by chapter: Chapter 24 ~ Adult Language

Many thanks to beta: myfeetshowit" – beta extraordinaire
Banner by spikeshunny

Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. Original characters are mine.

~~ Chapter 24 ~ chary ~ [chair-ee]–adjective - cautious or careful; wary

Spike settled on the couch. He felt exhausted and embarrassed. It was bad enough he had to accept help from Buffy, but when Giles and Xander offered to give a hand...well, it was the final insult. He was extremely weak due to blood loss. Moreover, he looked and felt like a corpse. Spike insisted he had had worse injuries and did not want to be coddled. He raised his legs on a pillow and gingerly put an ice pack between his legs. Buffy offered him a blanket, “Thanks, luv. I feel like a right fool laying here with my bits for all to see.”

“I wish you’d let Giles take a look at that gash, Spike,” Buffy said. “I really think it needs stitches.”

“Spike,” Giles said, “I think I’d defer to Buffy’s judgement on this. She’s had a lot of experience in these matters and I don’t mind.”

“Hello? Vampire here! Over a century of experience! Buffy can’t top that! And I’ll just bet you’d like to get a look at the Big Bad’s Package.”

Giles stood up, righteously indignant, “Really, Spike. You are a child.”

“Don’t nobody be asking me to check out anything. No sir!” Xander commented from the kitchen where he was plating the scrambled eggs.

“Don’t worry!” Spike and Buffy said simultaneously.

In fact, Spike was being extraordinarily difficult because he didn’t know how to deal with Giles and Xander. He had them both pigeonholed for years. They learned to coexist peacefully (more or less) because of Buffy; neither of them really liked the other. He doubted any of that had changed for them. As far as he was concerned, he tried hard not to think about it. He was sure he didn’t like them…but if pushed, he would have to admit that they had become important to him. Now…he owed his life to them.

Harris was the most puzzling. If he hadn’t taken charge of the situation Spike was sure Buffy would have cried until he burst into flame with the sunrise. Maybe she would have staked him first…for his own sake…like you shoot an injured horse. The Watcher acted as if something had snapped in his head. No, he owed his existence to…Alexander Harris.

“Right then,” Spike conceded, “I am chastised. Rupert, you may look at the wound. If you deem it needs stitches I’ll drink myself stupid and let Buffy fix me up. Fair enough? She’s stitched me up before in less delicate places. The wound is clean now. Buffy sat me down in a hot tub of water with some kind of brown disinfectant in it and washed the gunk out. The bleeding is mostly stopped and it’s done up nice and tight.”

“Ah…well…I’m honored.”

“Breakfast is served.” Xander said carrying a tray laden with eggs and bacon and croissants.

Giles asked, teasing, “No kippers?”

“Yeah, right! That'll happen! You English...weird.”

“Get it while it’s hot.” Buffy fixed a plate for Spike and slipped to the kitchen to warm a mug of O- neg for him.
~~~
Breakfast finished, dishes cleared, Giles stood and said, “It’s time I was on my way. I’ve got to get cleaned up before going to work. Xander, you’ve a full day ahead of you too. Buffy, I’ll notify the staff and students that you and Spike will not be teaching today.”

“Much appreciated, Rupert. I promise I’ll be a good little vampire and get some rest. Maybe Buffy and me'll take another soak,” Spike said with a lecherous grin.

“Yes...um...you’re forgetting something, I’m afraid,” Giles answered.

Buffy gave Spike a knowing look that said, ‘Be a good boy now and don’t give me any grief.’ He understood perfectly and made a sour face and said sharply, “Oh…all right,” and pulled off the blanket covering his legs.

Xander tried not to look, and in fact only glanced before looking away. What he saw made him hop from foot to foot as he said, “Oh God, oh God, oh God!”

Spike’s entire genital area was a deep purple, that is, what wasn’t an open wound. His scrotum was swollen to several times its size. Buffy reached down, loosened a bandage, and showed Giles a gash on the inner aspect of his left thigh seven inches long. It was a clean slice probably caused by the blade in the demon’s hand. His penis, which Buffy knew was admirable, was almost lost in the swelling of his scrotum.

Giles was silent. He couldn’t look at Spike or Buffy. As a man, he couldn’t help but be empathetic. Men, being particularly fond of their own parts, share a fellowship of understanding about groin injuries. “Yes,” he said, clearing his throat, “this looks like something that Buffy can fix."

Buffy covered the wound over and stepped aside. "As you said Spike, it’s clean, not jagged. It looks like it will suture easily. I do think the swelling is an issue though and I’m not sure she should try to stitch it while it’s so swollen. Keep it moist and suture it in a few hours when the swelling starts to go down.”

Buffy looked at Spike with a questioning glance that he returned with a reluctant nod. “There’s more, Giles,” she said. “Roll over please, Spike.”

“What? More?” squealed Xander abruptly sitting down. He put his head between his knees.

Spike rolled over and grabbed the back of the sofa for leverage. The area looked so swollen. It was hard to determine what was what. Tucked between his legs was a clump of bandage material. Buffy pulled it gently away. It was evident that the blade had opened the scrotum and left a gaping hole.

“Ah, I see,” said Giles swallowed nervously and sucked in a deep breath. “Right.” Then, in a no-nonsense voice, said, “There is a doctor in the village...”

“No doctor!”

Giles plowed ahead as though Spike hadn’t spoken, “... in the village who was formerly in the employ of the Council and left to go into private practice. The doctor has a complete understanding of things paranormal and mystic and knows of vampires. I’m afraid I’m going to insist, Spike. This needs a doctor’s attention.”

“No doctor,” said Spike.

Buffy assumed Slayer position with feet spread apart and arms folded over her chest, chin lifted and said, “No choice.” She looked Spike squarely in the eye. “Make the arrangements, please Giles.”

“Done,” he said. With that, he and Xander gathered themselves, bid farewell wishing Spike a speedy recovery, and reminded Buffy to call if they needed anything.

Spike waited until they were gone and in a quiet voice commented, “Just like that…”

“I’m not going to lose you or any part of you again, Mr. William T. Bloody and if making a decision over your head is what it takes, then so be it.”

He laid his head back against the couch, closed his eyes and sighed. After a moment, he opened his eyes and saw the face of everything he ever wanted looking back at him. He held out his arms and pulled her to him. Buffy squeezed along side him and rested her head on his chest. Neither of them spoke. The last few hours reminded them how fragile life is. They stayed like that for a long time and then Spike said, “Then so be it.”
~~~
Mrs. Reed stared ahead with tears welling in her eyes, the phone still at her ear, the line now dead. Mrs. Patel stood at the copier and sensed something terribly wrong. She turned and saw the color drain from her supervisor’s face. She stepped over to Adele’s desk and gently took the phone from her and put it to her own ear and heard nothing. She spoke into the mouthpiece and got no answer. Whomever Mrs. Reed had spoken to was no longer on the line. Adele raised her eyes and met Mrs. Patel’s. “It’s one of the girls. There…there’s been …a fatality.”

Shocked, Pretti Patel started to speak. Before she said a word, Adele gathered her senses and was once again in control. “Pretti, until I’ve had a chance to talk to Mr. Giles not one word of this is to be spoken to...anyone.” She spoke slowly and emphasized each word, “Do you understand?”

Mrs. Patel nodded and returned to her task at the copier without another word.

Adele sat with her head in her hands taking deep breaths trying to gain control. Her heart was pounding. She broke out in a cold sweat. She dialed Mr. Giles private number and felt a moment of relief when there was no answer. She didn’t want to be the one to give him the news.

When she had arrived that morning and checked the office answering machine, there was a message from Mr. Giles explaining that he would be in late. She realized that not being able to reach him probably meant he was still on his way. She closed her eyes and dropped her head into her hands. She wasn’t off the hook yet.

Adele turned off the busy office sounds around her and concentrated. She never forgot the advice of her favorite high school teacher. ‘Planning. Consider what might be coming and plan for it. If you never need to implement the plans, so much the better, but if you do need to act, you can act quickly.’ It was good advice and it served her well over the years. It would help her now.

The student’s personal files were locked in the bottom drawer of Adele's desk. She withdrew the file on Chastity Baker and checked to make certain it was in order. It was. She took pride in being thorough and efficient. She stood up and held onto the desk to steady herself, gathered the folder and went to Mr. Giles office. Placing the folder on his desk, she opened the drapes and squinted as sunlight filled the room. She stood and let the warmth soak in and was grateful that the day wasn’t as black as the circumstances. Flipping through the Rolodex, she located the cell number of the Constable to whom she had spoken and wrote his name on a sticky note along with the number. With her hand on the doorknob, she paused to check she hadn’t left anything undone. Satisfied, she prepared to have Mr. Giles’ tea ready as soon as he arrived. Returning to her desk, she took her seat and waited.
~~~
Physical fitness at the Academy is key. The curriculum provided classes in martial arts, gymnastics, yoga, spinning and other organized forms of exercise. All were courses taken at some point during the girls’ tenure at the school. In addition, the students participated in other forms of aerobic exercise of their own choosing. They were free to decide the when, what and how. The Council wanted the students to develop a program that would become a life long habit. Their calling gave them strength, power and speed. They needed stamina.

One group of the girls rose at dawn each day and ran not less than five miles before breakfast. The others chose a different time for their exercise. As long as the girls checked off the activity, they were free to do as they wished which meant the many of the girls never crossed paths until after breakfast.
~~~
So it was that Chastity Baker wasn’t missed until the first morning class at 0900.
~~~
The two gardeners assigned to Tudor Hall pulled up in front of the building and unloaded their equipment.

“Oi, Dev, we can get this done twice as fast. You work the front and I’ll go round back then I’ll help you pick up your leaves and you help me wiv’ mine,” Joe Conlon said as he put his cigarette butt out on the bottom of his shoe and put it in his pocket.

“Listen to you soundin’ like a bleedin’ boss. Who died and left you in charge?”

Joe shrugged, “C’mon, mate, quit being a sod. Let’s just get the job done, right?”

“Yeah, yeah...I’m on it!”

Joe walked around the building with his rakes thinking he would love his job if he didn’t have to deal with Dev’s pissy attitude. ‘Ach, what the hell,’ he thought, ‘I can’t stay mad on a brilliant day like today.” He continued on his way whistling. As he rested one rake against the wall, bent and broken shrubs caught his eye. “What the fuck? The princesses pitchin’ their trash out the window now?” He glanced up and saw a broken window. Disgusted, he trudged through the ground cover and stopped dead in his tracks.

Joe saw the blood first. When he realized what he was seeing was the body of a girl, he jumped back and lost his footing, landed on his ass, he crab crawled backwards away from the scene. He retched losing his morning tea. He spit the bile out of his mouth and wiped it with his sleeve. He yelled, “Dev, Dev! C’mere, Jesus, call the coppers.” He pulled himself together and went over to the body to see if she was still alive although he was sure she was dead. Her head was at a funny angle. She looked gray, her skin was cold...and her eyes were open...and empty.

Dev finally came round. Joe told him to go call somebody for help and he stayed with the body.
~~~
Mr. Granger, the Head Constable arrived within minutes and surveyed the scene. He was a retired London police officer and no stranger to scenes like this. Theirs was only a very small force so he had only one other officer with him. He had Kinsey cordon off the area while he checked with the housekeeper to close and lock the girl’s room without touching anything and then he called Mr. Giles office. His first instinct was to call the Police, but considering this was a private school, he saw no harm in a few minutes delay.
~~~
Giles stood with his head bent and both hands leaning against the wall as the water beat down on his head in the shower. He was bone tired. The First was the enemy the last time he was up all night. Ironically, it was the last time he felt this alive. He chuckled as he smeared his hand over his face rubbing his eyes.

Quiet, solitary, academic. That was his life now and it was all right with him.

He soaped his washcloth and washed himself vigorously hoping it would get his circulation going. His body wanted very much to climb into bed and catch a few hours sleep but that was not to be. There was too much to do. He was making a mental list of things to be done while he mechanically scrubbed every bit of the night off. Even after a good scrub, he still sensed the goo from the gnarvole and Spike’s blood on his skin. During his final rinse, he thought he heard something. Turning off the water, he listened. Someone was banging on his door.

“Good Lord, now what?” He rushed out to his bedroom, grabbed a pair of jeans, and pulled them on. With bare chest and feet, he hastened to the door shouting, “I’m coming. Just one moment.”

Giles pulled back the latch and opened the door. Standing in the doorway were two uniformed officers from the school constabulary.

“Mr. Giles?”

“Yes,,” he said, his eyes shifting to both men. Although it had been years ago, Giles was no stranger to the law and knew to keep his mouth shut and volunteer nothing.

“I’m Sergeant Carver and this in Mr. Smith,” the larger of the two men said. “Mr. Granger called us in early to help. There has been a...tragedy, sir. One of your students is dead.”

Giles looked and felt punched in the gut. Blanching, he reached back for a chair. He worried he might faint. He bent and put his head between his knees.

Carver moved to help Giles and instructed Smith to get him a glass of water.

Regaining composure, Giles asked all the likely questions: who, when, where, how. His hands were shaking and he was finding it hard to breathe. Sergeant Carver recognized the symptoms as possibly being serious and told Smith to call an emergency squad.

Hearing that, Giles pulled himself together and said, “No, thank you, sergeant. I’m fine. It’s just such a shock...I’m afraid I’m not thinking clearly. Tell me, what comes next.”

“Yes sir, I understand. You’re needed at the scene…to identify the body."
~~~
The cottage was quiet. Spike was resting on the couch and Buffy was tidying up the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. Buffy and Spike exchanged a questioning look and both their minds raced along exactly the same path. The first basket delivery of the day had already come. It wasn’t as if they had a wide circle of friends dropping by. For that matter, they already had just had breakfast with the only friends they had in England. Buffy gestured to Spike to cover himself. The pressure of the blanket against his wounds caused pain. When it was just the two of them as a matter of decency, and because he couldn’t stand the sight of his pecker all squashed into his swollen balls, he kept himself covered with a napkin. Buffy opened the door.

Standing at the door was a smiling young woman. She thrust out her hand in introduction as she said in a crisp, refined British accent, “Good morning. I’m Doctor Bingham. Mr. Giles called me earlier and asked me to look in on Mr. Sanger.” Buffy and Spike must have looked confused because she continued, “It happens that my surgery is open for evening hours on Wednesdays so since I was free now I came right over.” She stepped into the room not waiting for an invitation and still, no one spoke. Dr. Bingham took a deep breath and went on, “Mr. Sanger, I know that Mr. Giles explained that I am familiar with your particular...um...condition. The fact is that I am probably the only physician in the world who is expert in vampire and slayer physiology. My current practice is in Family Medicine, but I am also Board Certified in General Surgery. So now, if you will please let me see your injury, I can determine if you need medical attention or if your own healing abilities will be sufficient.” By now she had removed her coat and moved toward Spike.

Buffy’s mouth fell open. Who did this woman think she was? ‘Dr. Bingham. Tall…well, a little taller than Spike and for a woman that’s tall… Slender, with long, what-looked-like-natural blond hair in a loose French braid all the way down her back and dressed like she stepped out of some expensive English catalog.’ That sweater was cashmere. She was sure. ‘Dr. Bingham…I hate you.’ “Excuse me, uh, Doc-tor Bingham, if that’s who you really are… can you show me some identification? I’m sure if you are so familiar with vampires and slayers then you know that all kinds of kinky weirdos walk into our lives everyday.”

“Buffy, don’t be rude,” Spike said as he favored the doctor with his most seductive expression.

“Oh no, she’s quite right to be cautious, Mr. Sanger,” the doctor said, smiling as she handed Buffy her drivers license.

‘Oh, look at that…even her teeth are perfect…super white. They probably sparkle in the sunlight. Hah! Something you’ll never see…Mis-ter Sanger.’ Buffy, who barely scratched five feet, suddenly felt shorter and positively stubby. She needed to change into something with 10-inch heels. “Everything seems to be in order,” she said as she handed back the ID. “If you’ll excuse me, we weren’t expecting anyone. I’d like to freshen up and change into something more suitable for guests.” She sneered at Spike who was grinning and loving his Slayer in her current shade of green-eyed monster. “I’ll just leave you in the doctor’s capable hands,” and to the doctor she added, “If he misbehaves, doctor, just call me. I’ll be more than happy to restrain him for you,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I’ll be fine, luv,” Spike called after her. “No need to hurry,”

‘Yup. If he weren’t already dead, I’d kill him.’

~~

~~ Chapter 25 ~ Devil’s Own Luck

Giles stood with Granger and stared in disbelief at the body. That she had been beaten and slashed was evident. When the constables came and told him of this latest nightmare, they said it might have been suicide. Giles suspected they must have been trying to protect him until he could see for himself. This was no suicide. Just a short while ago he was thinking that the vicious attack on Spike and learning of gnarvole demons in the area were the worst things that could happen. Now his mind was alight with hundreds of terrifying scenarios.

“Mr. Granger, is it possible to keep this quiet?” Giles saw the constable’s eyes go wide and quickly added, “It’s not that I wish to conceal a crime but rather find a way to keep it...um...contained. I know that sounds dreadful but so much is at stake. It would be a far greater crime to have to close this school…for the girls’ sake; for the sake of the staff…do you understand what I’m trying to say, Mr. Granger?”

Granger was a retired police officer. The idea of any kind of cover up was criminal. His suspicious mind immediately went to wondering if Mr. Giles was somehow involved, and just as quickly dismissed it. He learned over many years of interviews to allow people to talk. Offer a sympathetic ear…most often, given time, if they were involved, they hang themselves. In a murder, time was rarely an issue. The dead were gone; a speedy solution wouldn’t make any difference to them. “What was it you had in mind, sir?”

Giles explained that the school had a local doctor who was familiar with the special needs of the school on retainer.

Granger wasn’t aware that the school had “special needs.” He wondered how much learning was taking place when they were always running or competing at sports, but special needs? He once thought maybe it was an Olympic-training site. Mr. Granger smiled inwardly and decided to let out his line. He might just catch himself a big fish. Giles found the smile odd, but went on and asked if it would be possible to have her examine the body…without disturbing the evidence…before calling in the official report. He smiled openly when he learned that the local doctor was Leah Bingham and wondered if Mr. Giles knew she was also the local Medical Examiner.
~~~
Buffy was pulling on her high-heeled black boots when she heard a stream of foul language coming from the front room. Her first instinct was to think, “Serves him right,” and then immediately felt badly. If he was swearing like that, it was because he was hurting and trying to be brave in front of this woman. Standing up, she straightened her skirt and checked herself in the mirror. She had decided on the ‘I’m-a-grown-up- too’ look, a basic black knit dress, mid-calf length with a mock turtleneck, very feminine. Demure while making her seem taller. She fastened the clasp on a long liquid silver necklace and checked herself one more time. Hmmm, hair down – sexy. Hair up – dignified. Definitely up! Yes, she was satisfied... A splash of perfume and she was off to see what was going on.
~~~
Nothing could have prepared her for the scene that met her eyes. The doctor was wearing one of those headlamps, not the old reflecting type but a flashlight. Don’t look so hot with that thing on your forehead, do you? Spike lay over the back of the sofa with his naked backside in the air. Ordinarily he has a magnificent ass, but on this day, at this time, under these circumstances it was just gross. Dr. Bingham was kneeling down with the light shining up his butt. Oh, for a camera. Spike looked very uncomfortable. He liked being naked with beautiful women, but not like this. Buffy bit her tongue and listened.

“It’s not good Spike,” she said. So, it’s Spike now…no more Mr. Sanger.

Then it dawned on Buffy what she said. “What’s not good?” she asked.

“Oh, there you are. The wound. Spike told me how you insisted that he soak in the tub to clean the wound. Excellent.”

Buffy blushed, “Thank you.”

“Yes, it cleaned the injured area well enough for me to make a thorough examination. Ordinarily it would be just the right thing to do, but this time...I’m afraid the soaking, rather than just cleansing, may have introduced some bacteria foreign to his vampire constitution.”

Buffy was horrified. “What?” She did something to hurt Spike?

The doctor went on, “As you know, vampires have accelerated healing powers…as do slayers…actually their physiology is remarkably similar. Anyway, in a host with that kind of metabolism, bacteria flourish as well. As I understand it, there have only been a few hours since Spike sustained this injury, yet the infection is quite advanced.”

This was grim. “Oi, since it’s my arse you’re sniffing, how about looking me in the eye when you talk to me?” Spike piped over his shoulder.

“Quite right.” She threw a blanket over his backside and walked around front. “Here’s the thing. Ordinarily I would just suture the wound closed, recommend ice packs for the swelling and warm saline compresses twice a day. Antibiotics are worthless to a vampire, but I’m going to prescribe some anyway. It certainly can’t do any harm. In your case, I recommend we keep the wound open. In fact, I think I should extend it, trim the edges some to allow it to drain properly. It will allow the wound to heal from the inside out. It’s really not that compli...”

“Spike? Are you OK?” Buffy asked as she rushed to his side.

When the doctor uttered the words trim the edges, Spike hung his head and became paler than usual as his knees gave way. Buffy dropped to her knees next to him placing her hand on his shoulders and caressed his face regretting every evil thought she had. She helped him steady himself.

“Thanks, pet.”

Dr. Bingham continued, “As I was saying...”

Spike interrupted, “Right then,”

Startled, the doctor said, “but I wasn’t finished.”

Spike sighed and said, “Yes you were. So let me see if I’ve got all this straight. If I don’t let you do this, what’s likely to become of me, seeing as how you’re the ‘only doc in the world’ that understands the likes of me?”

“Ah, well…your body will try to heal itself and generate new tissue which the bacteria will consume…so you’ll drink more blood and generate new tissue... which the bacteria will consume. In short, you will live forever and never get better!”

“Never?” Buffy asked.

“Oh the swelling will likely go down and your scrotum will return to its normal size and the discoloration will go away, but the open, draining hole in your scrotum will not. Eventually its contents, your testes and accompanying anatomy will be eaten away as well. I apologize if this is disturbing. I’ve never been known for my bedside manner.”

A stunned Buffy said, “Ya think?” She stood up and began pacing. “Well, that’s it then. Let’s get started.”

“Whoa! Whoa! Hold on a mo’, …We’re talking about my bits...my turn to bid.” Spike said as he stood and walked round the sofa to lie down again. He was feeling a bit queasy and since his image had been shattered already, he didn’t want to compound the situation by falling flat on his face.

Buffy’s voice went up several registers, “What is there to talk about? You can’t stay like this.” She toned down her voice, knelt along side him again, and looked into his eyes. “Spike, you’re talking eternity as an invalid….that’s not you.”

His eyes were so sad. “Yeah, but how much has to be cut away?… and I’ll just bet there are no guarantees that that will do the job…I’m right, aren’t I, Doc?” Spike looked into the doctor’s eyes.

“In medicine, there are never any guarantees.” She answered, her tone solemn.

“Can I have a little time to think it over?” Spike said and Buffy interrupted.

“Spike… ?” and then whispered, “Spike.”

The doctor wasn’t finished. “It is not my job to talk anyone into anything. All I can do is present the information as I see it and then leave the decision making in the hands of the patient…Spike?” She directed her question directly to him. “You know that I was formerly connected with the Council so it should come as no surprise to you that I know a good deal about you.” She gave him a warm smile. “From what I know, you would be pleased to know that a great deal of time and money has been spent in the study of William the Bloody.”

Spike furrowed his brow, “From what you know?” He raised an eyebrow.

Her smile widened, “Well…I know that you are vain. I know that you like being something of an enigma. I know that you have embraced every moment of this existence with relish,” she paused for effect, “whether you were being a vicious killer or man in love fighting for his soul.”

While Dr. Bingham was speaking, Buffy got up, went to the chair across from Spike, and observed the scene. She wanted so much to hate this woman, but she was being so gentle….and so honest with Spike, she knew it was best she stand aside. This was between doctor and patient. She had a lot at stake too, but ….well, there was no but…

“Buffy, can I ask you to get me a drink, luv? I think I’m gonna need one. Something for you too, Doctor?” In the midst of all this Spike was trying to be gracious. Maybe I don’t know him as well as I think I do.

The doctor declined and Buffy went to the kitchen to get the drink. She poured him a generous dollop of Jack Daniels and took a seat in the cheerful old-fashioned kitchen. She guessed that Spike wanted to speak to Dr. Bingham alone and although he would welcome the drink, the real reason he asked was to get her out of the room. The cottage was small and the rooms were adjacent. She needed to know what was happening, but she respected his privacy more. She turned on the radio.

Strains of one of the Brandenburg Concertos filled the rooms. Spike smiled. He closed his eyes for a moment while he felt his heart grow warm. Christ, he loved his Slayer.

Spike’s expression was one of determination. He adjusted himself to make himself more comfortable and commented that the doctor should take a seat. He wiped away any thoughts of graciousness when told her he was getting a crick in his neck from looking up at her. Once she took her seat, Spike met her gaze with a look that would freeze the blood of an enemy. Dr. Bingham wasn’t an enemy and she wasn’t impressed with Spike’s bravado.

“Right then, you say you know about me. Then you know that never in my whole existence have I wanted to live more than I do now. When I was a lad I believed in God and I prayed…then there were a lot of years when I didn’t pray…” he lowered his eyes and paused. “Since Buffy…I dreamed of a life with her….I never believed it could be, but you could say, it was a prayer. Then, after everything that happened, I find her again and learn that she wants the same things I do….I don’t know what you think, but I’d call it an answer to a prayer.” His expression was earnest. He needed to know that she understood. He could see it in her eyes. Satisfied, he continued, “My dream includes me being able to make her life easier…lighten her load…she’s strong and she’s carried the world alone for too long…I hoped I could help.” Tears welled in his eyes. “I need you to be straight with me, doc. If I can’t be all that, then I don’t want to be at all.”

Dr. Bingham nodded, she wasn’t surprised at his comments, but she had more to say. “First of all Spike, I think you are selling Buffy short. I know as much about her as I know about you, and I know she loves you. She will not let you give up.”

“It’s not her decision.”

“Isn’t it?” Did you ever stop to think that she doesn’t want a life without you either?”

Spike’s face was revealing. “Not much of a poker player, are you Spike? You never looked at things through Buffy’s eyes, did you?”

Things were happening too fast. There was no time to think…and thinking before acting was never his way.

“I know that she’d say it wouldn’t matter…that she would want me any way she could have me…and that’s all well and good, but if I couldn’t be all that she needs I’d rather die.”

“You should consider that without you, she may not want to live either.”

That gave him pause. “That may be true, but here’s the way it’s gonna be. If you’re going to do whatever it is you do, I need a promise from you that if things don’t go well, you won’t string me along. You’ll be honest with me about the chances of ever getting better…and yes, if you tell me I’ll never get better… I will take an early morning walk…you have to believe me; it would be for the best. Dr. Bingham was shaking her head and about to speak. Spike interrupted her one more time, “Look, you’re presenting yourself here like you’re my doctor….right?” She nodded. “Then you’ve got some kind of sacred oath that binds you, right?” Again, she nodded. “Then, that’s how it will be. Do I need to wave my hands over your head and say “I bind you” three times or something? I haven’t been to a doctor since 1880, I’m not sure how it goes.” He finished...smiling, his tone firm.

“Dr. Leah Bingham chuckled and said, “I’m tempted to tell you that you have to do the ritual, I think Buffy could use a giggle right about now...OK, Mr. Sanger. I’m your doctor and yes, I am bound. I’ll respect your wishes.”

“Thank you.” He sighed then raised his voice and said, “Hey, what’s the holdup out there…I’m parched!”
~~~
Buffy grinned as she slapped her hands on her knees and then stood up. She made the right decision. She made so many mistakes in all their time together, it was cause to celebrate when she got it right. “Don’t be so impatient,” she giggled, “… im-patient… I made a pun.” She carried the drinks into the room on a tray with some crackers and cheese and napkins and saw their blank, unappreciative stares and her face fell. “C’mon…it wasn’t that bad. Loosen up a little, people. Besides, I had trouble breaking the seal on the new bottle. I’m not as strong as I used to be. I can’t believe you finished off two bottles in two days,” she directed the last comment at Spike.

“You can’t believe…? Right.”

Dr. Bingham explained that she had time to do the procedure now. She went outside to get her bag with the things she needed. Buffy and Spike were silent. There was nothing to say. Even though Buffy had given him his privacy with the doctor, she knew if it had come to a discussion, she would have disagreed with his plans. There was no point in making things any more difficult.

When Dr. Bingham came back she behaved as if she did this sort of thing everyday, but was sensitive to the fact that it was not so for them. They positioned Spike on the small dining room table so that he was at a good height for her to work. Spike wanted to drink his anesthesia, but Dr. Bingham said that she carried local anesthetics with her and a few small injections would render the procedure painless. She warned him that it would not remove the sense of touch however, just the sense of pain. He would feel her touching him, and hot and cold, but she promised that she would talk to him throughout so there would be no surprises.
~~~
Dr. Bingham used special scissors and cut away the edges of the wound. “Are you cutting me now?” Spike asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“I can’t feel it.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “Swallowing down a whole quart of whiskey in one gulp is an amazing feat. I’m left wondering why I bothered to use an anesthetic.”

Buffy stood at the table opposite the doctor. “I tried to tell you.”

“Yes, you did. Thank you, Buffy.” She continued to work while she spoke. “Before meeting you and Spike this morning and spending some time with him, I thought one should not necessarily believe everything one reads.” She stopped what she was doing and looked at Buffy. “I’ve changed my mind.”

She said she was almost done when she opened a jar and with a set of tweezers, stuffed six yards of yellow ribbon into the hole until his poor balls looked like they might explode. She told them the ribbon was Iodoform gauze and the yellow was special stuff that would help keep the wound clean. The whole procedure took less than fifteen minutes. The doctor packed up her bag, cleaned up what little mess she made and helped Buffy get Spike settled again.

She promised to visit every day to check the wound and remove some of the packing. Finally, she gave him medication for the pain…the packing would be uncomfortable. And while she knew there was no way she could tell him what he could and could not do…she asked that he not drink himself senseless. She wasn’t just being mean, alcohol converts to sugar in a normal metabolism and in a vampire metabolism with an increased capacity to heal, and the sugar provides a treat for the bacteria. In a somber tone, she added, “If you have any hope of beating this thing, we need to slow your healing capacity down a little. I know you enjoy regular food. I’d like you to go as long as you think it’s safe without blood and satisfy hunger only with food...”

Spike interrupted her, holding up his hand to silence her. “You’re an expert on vampires and you think that hunger has something to do with food?” Spike’s tone was menacing. “You’re asking me to put Buffy in danger. I won’t do it.”

Buffy was startled at the vehemence of his reaction. She smiled and said, “Spike, I’m the Slayer, I can handle myself. I know you won’t hurt me.”

“You don’t know anything, Slayer. You take out fledges. You’ve never come up against the likes of me when I’m hungry.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows in shock and smiled, “Oh really, Spike, aren’t you being just a little melodramatic?” Her smile turned into a sneer, “Ubervamp? Ring any bells?”

Spike roared! Buffy and Dr. Bingham froze in place. When he spoke, his voice was deadly. “Right. ‘m not gonna play tit for tat with you, Slayer. ‘m tellin’ you that you don’t know me.” He sighed, hung his head, and wondered if he looked as bad as he felt. “Buffy, I love you. I’ve tried to be a good man...”

“Spike, you are a good man”

“For Christ sake, woman, let me finish,” he yelled. After a moment, he went on; quiet again, “I’m a disgusting, undead thing. I’m a predator. Ask the doctor here, ask her about me.” Spike wished he felt better; he wanted to stand up and pace and wave his arms and roar, “Why do you think I drink, Buffy? Huh? Do you know?”

Buffy was frightened. She wasn’t afraid of Spike but she was afraid of what was happening. He smelled the fear. It was tantalizing. He laughed, an ugly, evil laugh.

“Do you?” He yelled. “Every minute of every day I want to kill something. I want to torture, destroy. If I’m fed, I have control and alcohol dulls the need.” Spike lowered his voice and looked at Buffy...into her eyes. “I can’t do this. Without blood, I’m a threat to you. With blood, the doc says the healing is fucked. It’s lose/lose, Buffy.”

~~~

Chapter 26 ~ Investigation, Interrogation, Insinuation

Constable Granger paced as he watched Mr. Giles head to his office. He opened his cell phone and signaled to Kinsey as he keyed in the number for local information. While he waited for the operator, he told Kinsey to get the crime scene tape up across the whole back of the building. The operator answered and he asked for the number of Dr. Leah Graham. He repeated it and Kinsey, ever the faithful servant, pulled out his notepad and wrote it down. Before Granger made the call, he said, “Kinsey, find the girl’s room and seal it too. Then conduct a search of the building. Report any findings to me.”

“Aye, cap’n,” Kinsey said and went to do as he was told.

Granger waited for Dr. Graham to come to the phone and considered this the luckiest day of his life...of his retirement, anyway. A case of this magnitude dropped in his lap? He grinned as he realized he wasn’t destined to fade into obscurity after all.

“Dr. Graham? This is Jim Granger, Chief Constable at the New Academy for Exceptional Girls. I’m afraid there’s been a tragedy here at the school. You’re needed immediately. Yes, ma'am, you're needed here as Medical Examiner.”

The doctor assured him she would be there as soon as she could. She had just seen a patient and wasn’t far. Granger thanked her and called the local police. They treated him like shite until they heard what he had to say. All hell broke loose and then they put him on hold. The minutes ticked by and his blood pressure shot up. He retired after twenty-five honorable years with the London police force and these small town amateurs treated him as if he was a nobody. The locals finally came back on the line.

“Granger?”

“Yeah, I’m here! I been here! You got one hell of a nerve keepin’ me hangin’ like that!” Granger roared.

The desk sergeant roared in return, “Shut your gob and do what I tell ya!”

Granger thought his head would explode. He started to speak when the sergeant interrupted him.

“Don’t open yer stupid mouth. Just secure the scene. A...hold on a minute...a Detective Inspector David Arthur and his team will be there in a little over an hour. Don’t touch anythin’...Don’t talk to nobody. D’ye understand?”

Granger grunted. He never had a chance to say aye or nay before the sergeant hung up. Securing the crime scene turned out to be a chore. Granger saw Mike Casey, a reporter from The Picayune, the local paper. Casey told Granger he was at Police Headquarters when Granger’s call came in an he headed right over. Within minutes, the school was overrun with local cops, reporters and photographers. The number seemed to grow exponentially with the broadcast of the crime over the police band radio.
~~~
DI Arthur and Sergeant Caruthers ran into a traffic jam as they neared the school. DI Arthur was a patient man, but after five minutes said, “Enough! Put the damn cupcake on top of the car and let’s get moving.”

Caruthers happily obliged. They arrived at the school amidst a chaotic scene involving shouting, waving of press passes and credentials. Caruthers meant to deliver his superior directly to the scene by driving directly into the crowd with his hand laying on the horn. One of the guards, intent on stopping the commotion and possibly making an arrest, had a brief conversation with Caruthers. Somewhat embarrassed, the officer stepped back and waved them through. The crowd roared their resentment.

Stepping out of the car, DI Arthur had a private word with Caruthers and then made his way to the crime scene. Caruthers walked over to the officer and explained he needed to make a brief statement. The officer called the crowd to order and Caruthers introduced himself and explained that the press would be briefed shortly.

With the tact of one who had done this sort of thing frequently Caruthers said, “We understand your interest and the urgency of deadlines, ladies and gentlemen, but the case has been turned over to Scotland Yard. It is imperative the crime scene remains undisturbed until Detective Inspector Arthur can observe the scene for himself. He begs your indulgence for a short while longer.” Caruthers knew Arthur had occasion to make use of the press and preferred a congenial relationship.
~~~
Constable Granger approached the DI, made to introduce himself, and was warned off by Caruthers. Granger was insulted and was about to say so. Detective Inspector or not, he had no right to be rude to brothers in arms. Caruthers read his intentions and explained that it was the DI’s practice to review a scene with his own eyes before hearing any particulars and there was no slight intended. Constable Granger huffed, muttered something about the DI being a cheeky bastard, and turned away. Caruthers smiled. He had seen this scene played out many times before and the reaction of the locals never varied.

After several minutes, when the DI was content with his first perusal of the scene, he turned to Granger and extended his hand. “Detective Inspector David Arthur. I expect you must be Constable Granger. Thank you for securing the crime scene. You’ve been a tremendous help.”

Granger took his hand in a firm handshake and though gob smacked at the inspector’s gracious greeting answered only, “It was my job, sir.”
~~
The Inspector was a patient and cautious man. Some of his colleagues found it tedious. They would survey a scene for themselves but mostly they relied on the observations of the other officers at the scene. They listened to their comments and observations, arrived at their conclusions using the collective information gathered, and did well with that approach.

The department used statistics as the ultimate measure of success. Obviously, in Homicide, the time it takes to solve a crime and whether or not they make the charges stick were the most important measures. Cases overturned quickly were impressive to the department and the public alike; however, speed in solving a case often rested on assumptions and hearsay and could not withstand the scrupulous investigation needed to bring in a conviction. Consequently, what seemed like a successful arrest could fizzle and die from lack of supporting evidence. The good thing was that the fizzle was rarely as visible as the original arrest. The release of the innocent wasn't nearly as newsworthy. Those stories most often were relegated to page six.

Detective Inspector Arthur rarely made an arrest until two or even three weeks after a murder made the front page. The department, the press and the public were bored by then. The fact that he had a nearly perfect conviction rate didn’t impress anyone but the small staff that worked directly with him. They understood that the care they took in their investigations resulted in not only the satisfaction of a job well done. They were also security in the knowledge that they would never have to do it all over again when a conviction was overturned. Others in the department took pleasure in teasing Arthur’s team for being too slow but team had the last laugh.

The first order of business would be for DI Arthur to just stand at a scene and make quiet comments as he made observations. It was Caruthers job to write down whatever Arthur said. They would stand in one place at a scene until the inspector was content that he’d seen all that he could see and then they would move to observe the scene from another angle and do the same thing.

Other detectives commonly relied on the police photographer to capture all the nuances of a crime scene. Arthur wasn’t stupid; crime scene photos were an integral part of his investigation but more to have evidence to prove what he already observed. He relied on only one police photographer, Tommy Martin. It was often a fight to get him on his team but he would settle for none other. When Caruthers got the call to clear Tommy at the gate, DI Arthur was content.
~~~
The quiet peace of the cool late autumn morning was an incongruous backdrop when DI Arthur set eyes on Chastity Baker. The sun had been up for a few hours but never reached the back of the building until afternoon. Dew still glistened on the crushed shrubs and plants surrounding the broken body of the girl but there were no dewdrops on her body. DI Arthur stood and surveyed the scene. He understood he was going to investigate a murder or a suicide. This was no suicide. He gazed at the girl and saw the brutally beaten face of a child and the slaughtered body of a blossoming woman. She lay on her back; her eyes open staring back at him. For all the times he looked into the eyes of the dead, he never got used to it. He was glad of that. If it ever became routine and stopped affecting him, he would know it was time to quit. He looked into her vacant eyes and thought; I need to see what you saw.

She had curly blond hair and an angelic face. Today, her skin was the grayish blue color of death, a few hours dead and bloodless. She wore only a blood stained pajama top. In some of the wounds, the blood was deep red and pooled.

Arthur looked at the position of the body and then walked over to the wall and looked at the body again. Her body was ten to fifteen feet from the building. A jumper would have landed five or six feet closer to the building. Then he walked back to the body and glanced up at the broken window on the third floor of the building. The center of the glass was broken through but glass remained around the perimeter of the frame. He told Caruthers to be sure to get accurate measurements of the relationships of the body to the building. There were no footprints around the body and the only shrubs that were disturbed were the ones on which her body lay. Drops of blood and broken glass twinkled around the body.

Kinsey led the interested parties to the room where they believed the assault took place. Sergeant Caruthers stayed behind to instruct Granger to contact the head of the school to inform him that the Detective Inspector will be going to his office as soon as he finishes his review of the crime scene. Then Caruthers double-timed to catch up to his superior.
~~~
Tudor Hall was a modern stone building, cold. No doubt, it was an addition to the estate to provide efficient space for servants and staff. There was a center hall with doors to offices and classrooms on either side on the first floor. Kinsey explained that all the floors were identical, even the basement. There were communal bathrooms and a shower room on each floor except the first floor, which housed the estate administrator’s offices when it was a privately held property.

There were marble stairways in the north and south wings of the building. As they climbed, Arthur told Caruthers to oversee a search of the whole building. Kinsey spoke up, said that he had checked all the rooms, and found nothing amiss. The inspector smiled and lowered his head and thought, ‘Oh, Lord, deliver me from helpful local police.’ He sighed and told Kinsey he appreciated his efforts but he preferred his own team did the search. Then, in keeping with his wish to keep things amicable with this small constabulary, he added, “I’d appreciate it if you would accompany them, Officer Kinsey. Your knowledge of the grounds and of the school will be invaluable.”

Caruthers choked back a snort. Sometimes the inspector could overdo things a bit.

There was an officer posted at the victim’s door. Crime scene tape blocked entry. Kinsey reached to tear it down and the inspector stayed his hand and then stepped in front of him to study the room before entering. “First impressions, Mr. Kinsey, first impressions can sometimes solve a crime.”

Sergeant Caruthers flipped his notebook and read aloud the information they had on the girl. “Chastity Catherine Baker, 14 years old. Born Lisdoonvarna, Clare, 13 December 1991. Both parents and two siblings killed in MVA, June 1995, Manchester. Only surviving relatives, maternal grandmother suffered a heart attack and died on receiving news of the accident. The girl was then placed in county care,” he finished, flipping his notebook to the current page. “Evidently she was quite a handful. There’s a long list of foster homes she lived in before coming here in May of this year. That’s it, sir”

“We’ll be wanting to talk to those families, Sergeant,” the inspector said, “You’ll get that going, won’t you?”

“That I will, sir,” answered Caruthers.

“Right then,” the inspector said with an air of authority, “We may be able to assume that what we see before us represents all that is left of Chastity Baker. Since May, this place has been everything to her, her home, her family, her friends, and her life.” After a deep sigh, he tore back the tape and entered the room.
~~~
Giles managed to get away at lunch for a brief visit to the cottage. It was important that Spike and Buffy be told about the crime. He was pleased to learn that Xander had already broken the news. He had dreaded it all morning. He knew Spike would be full of guilt because this young girl died while they were busy saving him. How do you convince a vampire that his being had as much worth as the girl's? An absurd concept, but he was beginning to understand Spike’s peculiar brand of morality. Then, of course, Buffy would feel the guilt too. After all, she put the safety of her vampire above all others. Xander? Xander was something else altogether. Although Spike died to save humankind, and although he seemed to have made peace with the vampire, learning that an innocent girl died while they were saving the dead thing. For Xander, this would be a real crisis of conscience.

Buffy had taken the contents of the afternoon basket and provided a luncheon spread for the group. It was as if she was sure they would have visitors. Giles was amused at her domesticity. There was tension in the air though. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The lovers had undoubtedly endured another night of misery, but it seemed they came through it, hanging on to one another, as any lovers should. He was sure they would share their troubles eventually. For now, he would settle for seeing them safe. Giles was pleased that Leah Graham had made seeing Spike a priority. He feared that having separated herself from the Council, she would not be willing to have anything to do with vampires. His fears were allayed when both Buffy and Spike spoke highly of her. Still, he sensed something more was going on. Of course, with everything else that was going on, Giles didn’t need to know that the situation was anything but fine. Giles didn’t need to know that they had maybe twenty-four hours of peace before Spike got “peckish.”
~~~
Back at the office, Adele helped him set up meetings with the staff and then the students. Far better, they learn about the incident from him than a rumor mill. It gave him the opportunity to develop a plan with the teaching staff for handling the girls’ questions. He knew that each question would only generate more questions. They would just have to handle each one as they came up.

Because the school was still quite new, their enrollment was about half capacity. This allowed the students the luxury of having private rooms even though each dormitory room could accommodate at least two students. Some rooms could accommodate as many as four. Because Tudor Hall was a crime scene, all students housed there relocated to Hanover House where two or three girls would share a room. The move would provide safety in numbers and the school would be able to provide twenty-four hour guards. For the most part the students were cooperative. They were so shaken by the loss of one of their own that there was relatively little grumbling about the inconvenience of it all.

Then he contacted Willow. Before the schools opened, she collaborated with the Covens to provide otherworldly protection, so he called on her to contact them to check that none of their spells were breached. Then he added a special request. He explained that he was certain everyone on campus could expect to be interviewed. While he did not want anyone to lie, he needed to be certain that the true nature of the school remain secret. Willow understood perfectly and assured him they could come up with something. She promised to call as soon as they had some ideas. He was not comfortable with the use of magicks to manipulate thought. It never turned out well. Still, desperate times call for desperate measures.

As Giles watched the afternoon sun casting its last rays on the buildings across the expansive lawn in front of the Main Hall, Giles sipped at the brandy he’d needed all day and finally allowed himself. What a day it had been! Since leaving Granger with the body, he hadn’t stopped doing what he could to contain this disaster. Weighing heavily was his guilt that despite this horrific tragedy, he was still able to “take care of business.”

He spent the day fielding calls from the other members of the Council. It mortified him to think that this happened on his watch. In his position as head of the Council, if this happened at one of the other schools, heads would roll. Now it would be his head rolling.

Giles looked out his window at the NEWS trucks with their satellite dishes raised in the air. They were broadcasting about his quiet little world and it infuriated him. They would take this terrible event and turn it into a media fiasco with only the smallest percentage of truth. Night was falling but at Tudor Hall, floodlights were turning night into day. He poured another brandy. Giles pressed his intercom.

“Mrs. Reed, would you come in please?”

Adele saw no need to answer, just rose from her desk, and went to Mr. Giles office. “Sir?”
Giles knew he would have to meet with reporters eventually. “Ah Adele, I think it would be wise for me to have a press conference first thing tomorrow morning. Will you make the arrangements please?”

Mrs. Reed raised her eyes and put her hand to her chest, “Oh, thank God.” Giles started at her reaction.

“Oh, Mr. Giles,” Adele said, her face twisted with worry, “the telly in the break room has been running reports all day. They are saying ‘the Headmaster was not available for comment’…well, of course, that’s what I’ve told them. You’ve been working non-stop.” She took a deep breath. Giles could see how upset she was. “But their tone suggests you have something to hide.” What she didn’t realize was that it was true.

~~~

Giles thoughts turned to the mid-morning visit from the Inspector from Scotland Yard, a meeting he would likely never forget. He had just hung up from speaking to Lydia Chalmers, still a pompous self-righteous bitch. He was completely unsettled after the conversation and jumped when the intercom rang out with Adele’s voice advising him that the inspector had come to call. He needed a few minutes to gather his thoughts.

Adele explained to the Inspector that Mr. Giles was in a telephone conference with a member of the school’s Board of Directors and in light of the circumstances, she begged his indulgence in waiting until the call was over. DI Arthur was nothing if not accommodating, and leaned against the wall to wait. She offered him a seat and he politely refused. When she noted the light go out on Mr. Giles extension, she used the intercom to alert him to the Inspector’s visit.

Mr. Giles voice boomed over the intercom. “Thank you, Mrs. Reed. Please tell the Inspector that I’m just finishing up on a call and will be with him in a moment.” The inspector had seen the light go out the same time that Adele did. As he heard, Mr. Giles comment his eyes met Mrs. Reed’s.

Giles cleared his desk of everything except Chastity Baker’s file. He stood and straightened his tie and jacket, cleared his throat and walked to the door. Opening it, he said, “Won’t you please come in, Inspector…..?”

“Arthur. Detective Inspector David Arthur,” he said, offering his hand. “Thank you for making time to see me. I’m sure you have a very full plate today.” He could see the headmaster looked frazzled and his interview would go much better if he could put him at ease. Mr. Giles would be more likely to be forthcoming with someone who didn't present himself as an adversary.

“Yes,” Giles sighed, “very full indeed.” He took the inspector’s hand in a hearty handshake. Giles learned many years ago that a man is judged by the strength of his handshake. He hoped his gave the inspector the right impression. “Please, won’t you take a seat,” he said as he rounded his desk and settled in his chair. “This is a nightmare. How can I help?”

“Actually, Mr. Giles, meeting with you is largely a formality at this time. You and your secretary have been most helpful. At your direction, she has provided lists of all your employees and students and is arranging for my officers to meet with them. We need an accounting of everyone’s whereabouts at the time of the crime, and in order to plot out the sequence of events, we’re going to ask everyone to account for their time all day yesterday.”

Giles appeared a bit ruffled. “All day? That seems a bit much. The staff is working and the students are in class. Simple enough, I should think.”

“So it would seem. Please trust me sir, daily life is never simple when you see it plotted out. We will create a spreadsheet that will tell us who was where, when and with whom, how long they were there and what they were doing. You’ll be surprised what kinds of things help people in their recollections. Sometimes the smallest detail can make the difference in finding the culprit. This method is particularly useful in a controlled setting such as yours.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. What makes us so special?”

“Really? Being an educator and all, I’d have thought you would see the advantages right off.” He paused for effect…. Your campus is closed. There is nothing to muck up the investigation. Everything we need to solve the crime is here. It may take some digging, but we’ll ferret it out,” he finished, meeting Giles gaze with a serene smile.

Giles was stunned. “Are you suggesting that…that this is…what?…an inside job?” His voice raising steadily as he asked.

Arthur was just a little surprised at the vehemence of Giles’ response but revealed nothing in his expression or tone as he replied, “Well, it has to be, doesn’t it?” He turned and walked to the door. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back and said, “You know, of course, we’ll need your time accounted for too, Mr. Giles.” He smiled and exited, saying, “Good day.”
~~~
Giles felt his heart rate pick up and his face flush as he recalled the smug attitude of that insolent man. He tossed back the brandy. He wanted more. Bloody hell, he needed more, but he didn’t dare. He saw the hoard of reporters lurking about the front of the building. He knew there was no escaping them when he chose to leave. All he needed was to have one of them smell the alcohol or for him to be a bit tipsy. What a grand headline that would make.

The intercom buzzed announcing the arrival of his last appointment of the day. “Send her in, Adele. Thank you.”

Giles came around his desk to take the hand of his visitor. He’d forgotten how very lovely she was…quite a pleasant turn to his day. He led her to a chair and returned to his own. “It’s good to see you again, Leah,” he said.

“And I, you, Rupert. Thank you for staying to see me. I’m sure your hours are usually long over by now but I did have patients to see and couldn’t reschedule on such short notice.”

“I understand perfectly. I’m guessing you’re here to discuss Spike and…the other matter, am I correct?” he inquired.

Leah looked surprised. “Oh, well…yes, I suppose I could give you an update on that too, but I’m really here in my capacity as Medical Examiner.”

“I’m sorry, did you say Medical Examiner?” Giles said as he removed his glasses and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket.

“Yes. You didn’t know?”

“No! I called you as the school’s doctor. You are the Medical Examiner? Doesn’t this present a conflict of interest?”

Dr. Graham lowered her head and sighed. “I don’t know…I don’t care…ah…of course I care. It’s just that I’m in a unique position to understand all the implications of my findings. Honestly Rupert, I don’t want to be involved with Council business anymore, but I can’t ignore what I know to be true, can I?”

Uninvited, Giles poured a brandy and handed it to her. “Perhaps if you started from the beginning…”

She took the brandy gratefully, “Quite right,” and after a deep swallow, continued, “I know that you saw the body, so you must know that Miss Baker’s death was not an accident and most definitely not a suicide.” She looked to him for a reply.

He nodded but said nothing.

“The multiple stab wounds do not account for the amount of blood loss,” she said.

Giles raised his eyebrows in surprise and retook his seat.

“I expected that upon autopsy I would learn that there had been extensive internal injuries and I would find blood filling the abdomen.” Her glance was telling. “I did not.” She went on, “It is true that the broken neck is the cause of death, but there was significant blood loss prior to that.”

Giles postulated, “Yes, of course, …the stab wounds…”

“Were post-mortem,” the silence was ominous. “So I started looking for another reason for the blood loss…. I found fang marks in the groin almost obliterated by one of the slash wounds. Mr. Giles, this was a vampire attack.”

“Good Lord.”
~~~

Title: Goodbye, Mr. Giles
Author: Aamah
Pairing: S/B
Rating by chapter: Chapter 27 ~ PG
Genre: Post NFA ~ General
Warning by chapter: Chapter 27 ~ language

Many thanks to beta: myfeetshowit whose patience is infinite


Chapter 27 ~ The English Patient

Henry fed on even nights, so tonight he had the 2 p.m. watch. He didn’t complain. The fledges bitched and bellyached about feeding every other day being unfair, but he’d been on his own long enough to remember what hungry really was. Binnemon may be a right bastard, but it was plain to Henry that his plan worked and moaning only got the shit beat out of you… if you’re lucky. More likely, you end up dust in the wind.

Anyway, if his internal clock was right…and it always was…it would soon be sundown. Henry put down the book he was reading and began his rounds of the winery turned vampire lair. All was still except for the roaring snoring. He approached the great wooden doors that led outside and puzzlement spread across his face. His sensitive nose picked up the sweet descent of evening but there was daylight streaming through the cracks in the door. He stopped for a moment to find his center. His body told him the sun was going down. “What the fuck?”

He opened the door and sure enough it looked like noon. He shook off the anxiety and realized he must have dozed and gotten mixed up. Then, from deep within the recesses of the underground caves, he heard the rumblings of the other “evens” who were waking and getting ready for their night on the town.

“Bollocks,” he whispered. “If the old man wakes up and sees it's still day...Shit!” Henry took off at a trot to the sleeping quarters and squeaked, as loudly as he dared, “Shut up, you bloody wankers. You’ll wake him up.”

“Who you callin’ a bloody wanker? It’s nigh onto sundown and I want to be fed.” One of the others said, “’s my turn tonight and I mean to take it.”

"My turn too, ain't it, you fat fucker. It's day out there! I'm tellin' ya!" Henry bellowed in anger and frustration. The door swung open and slammed against the wall revealing Binnemon himself, his grotesque belly hanging over open pants. Henry was closest and took the full brunt of Binne's rage. Binne grabbed him by his longish beard with one hand and raised his other arm as if to punch him but instead drove his elbow into his jaw. Henry's head snapped back with a sickening crack. For a split second, Henry's shell hung in the air, then all that was left of him drifted to the ground. Chaos reigned as the others scattered to escape Binnemon's wrath.

“Stop! The next wank that moves is the next one gone.” Binnemon bellowed. The rooms fell silent. “Now, what the fuck is going on?”

A small voice from somewhere at the rear of their ranks, one vampire spoke, “Daylight,” was all he said.

Binnemon opened his mouth…and then stopped, turned and went to the great door. He saw the same light that Henry warned of. It made no sense. Every fiber of his being told him it was dusk. He opened the door and went outside to the collected gasp of his troops. For a few moments he was stunned, disoriented, then slowly, the awful truth dawned on him. The night was made bright by the world watching the scene of his crime. The girl’s blood had been so intoxicating that he’d lost control and now it was possible that he could lose everything. He had to think fast. These dullards behind him were only loyal because he got them fed regular. He turned and faced the vampires, some who gathered courage moved closer. They stepped back as he turned.

“Looks like the law has moved on campus,” he said. I gotta look into it. Somethin’ musta happened. I think the light is from floodlights used by the coppers or maybe news people. It can’t hurt you, but for crissake stay away from it. Go ahead on your runs. Head for one of the farther targets. Remember, the school is off limits, now more than ever.” Then he turned to the odds, the returning vamps, and yelled at them to get to bed.
“You don’t want me findin’ out you went nosin’ around.”

Without another word, not even a threat, Binnemon went to his quarters to think.

~~

Dr. Graham was true to her word and returned to see to Spike’s wounds. Only a short time into it, the treatment plan was working, she thought on the drive over to the Academy campus. There were no signs of infection and the wound was draining well. But now things were starting to get ugly. Spike’s churlish behavior was difficult to deal with, to say the least. She couldn’t tell him to numb himself with alcohol because the bacteria would flourish as it turned to sugar in his system, and his vampire healing would simply seal the bacteria in place, creating an unending nightmare of disability. She knew she needed to come up with something or this remarkable vampire would walk into the sun and disappear forever. The whole plan depended on limiting his feeding to slow his healing.

There was another option, she knew, one that could possibly cause her to lose her license to practice medicine. If that happened, she would have to return to work at the Council, something she dearly wished to avoid. Leah Graham knew she was facing a unique moral dilemma. Treat her patient as she was sworn to do? Or facilitate her patient’s demise, knowing what he was. Once upon a time she wouldn’t hesitate, especially when she was in the Council’s employ. Now, having met the infamous William the Bloody and finding him a most engaging fellow and witnessing first hand the genuine bond between he and the Slayer, she realized she had no dilemma at all. Her patient came first. This union, however bizarre, came first. She reminded herself again that this Council is very different from the Council she had known and she would take her chances. If she lost her license, she would work for Rupert Giles…not an altogether unappealing idea. She smiled to herself and waved as the officer monitoring traffic on the campus waved her onto the grounds.

Leah lifted the knocker to announce her arrival at the cottage and was interrupted by Buffy swinging the door open. “Dr. Graham, you’ve come.”

“Yes,” she answered with a puzzled expression, “I did tell you I was going to make daily visits, didn’t I?”

Before Buffy had a chance to answer, Spike volunteered, dripping with sarcasm, “Yes doctor, do come and relieve our poor downtrodden, overburdened slayer. She seems to be suffering. We tried to warn her that I might be unpleasant if I’m not fed, didn’t we?”

Buffy’s swollen eyes betrayed the truth of it. As he continued to berate her, her eyes welled up again. It was no surprise that Spike was not a cooperative patient. She glanced over at Spike and instead of a handsome man, she faced a snarling, yellow eyed demon. It caught her by surprise and a chill run down her spine.

Spike sneered and growled, “Fee-fi-fo-fum, I smell the blood of an English...uh...person … And may I say, you smell …tasty.” Spike was clearly enjoying this game. “You never seen a real vampire before, have you, doctor?” he said as he made to rise from the couch.

Instantly, Buffy stood between Spike and the doctor, tears welling in her eyes and her arm raised, holding a stake and ready to use it. Her voice was cold and deadly and did not betray her emotions as she said, “You know I’ll do it if I have to.”

No one moved or spoke for what seemed like an eternity…

The doctor broke the tension when she said, “I think I have a solution.”

~~~

Giles was at his desk hours before the regular start of the business on the day after Chastity Baker died. Sleep wouldn't come despite several ounces of scotch. After tossing fitfully for several hours he decided to get up and shower with the hopes of clearing his head. If ever there was a time for clear thinking, this was it. Giles was not surprised when Dr. Graham told him Miss Baker’s death was at the hands of a vampire. He stared back at the forlorn face in the mirror while shaving and realized it was exactly what he feared most, and now he knew the blame lay only with him for his terrible decision to go cautiously in stamping out Binnemon and his henchmen. Too often Buffy and her little band of friends had moved ahead without all the facts and there had been serious consequences. With so few to help and so much at stake he wanted to make sure they did it right the first time…and it cost that sweet girl her life. Once, Buffy was his only concern… but this time there was the Council itself to consider, the schools, the employees and girls in the schools and the girls yet to be found….yet to be born. It was so important to get it right…and...damn it all, he’d bungled it. Now, as he prowled around his office like a caged cat, he devastated as he considered all that was at stake.

Today he would have to meet with the others and tell them that the murder came at the hands of a vampire. Spending the time before dawn to jot down every thought that popped into his head, he was relieved when the clock had finally crawled around to a decent hour to call the cottage. The phone rang only once.

"Buffy here.”

"Ah, yes. Good morning, Buffy," Giles began, wanting to sound cheerful. "I hope it is a good morning. How are things going?"

"Hello Giles," Buffy answered sounding tired. "Um...pretty well, I guess. What's up?"

Giles noted in her "hello" that she was lying and caught herself in letting it show. He decided that telling her on the phone would accomplish nothing and went on with his plan to ask when it would be alright to visit. "I have some news. I'd like to ah...convene a ... scooby meeting." Before she had a chance to answer, he added, "as soon as is convenient."

Buffy turned to the wall and put her hand over the mouthpiece and said, "Gee, Giles, I don't know...um, Spike's not feeling so good and..."

Spike interrupted, "I'm a vampire, you stupid bint. I can hear your fucking hair grow. Not much use in covering up the phone. Tell the old prat to come whenever he wants to. True, I'm not at my best, but talking to him will be better than listening to your simpering mouth running off."

"Buffy? Is everything alright? What is Spike going on about?"

Buffy was grateful that Watchers didn't have vampire hearing. Since he was going to be coming over anyway, she would wait until then to fill him in on the latest developments in Spuffy Haven. She amused herself as she mentally connected their names and was amazed at her own resilience. Her world was coming apart...again...and she could still smile. "I'll tell you all about it when you come over, Giles. They're gonna deliver the breakfast basket in a few minutes. I'll put on a pot of coffee and boil some water for tea. Come on over anytime."

"Afraid to be alone with me, Slayer?" Spike sneered.

"Shut up, Spike."

“Oooh, aren’t you the..?”

“I said shut up.” Buffy pulled her hair back and headed for the kitchen ignoring whatever Spike was going on about and thought about Dr. Graham's visit. Things were a bit dodgy there for awhile. Spike said he was in a lose/lose situation and it was really starting to look that way. No blood, no alcohol equals a very testy vampire. Fortunately for everyone concerned, narcotics don't convert to sugar to feed nasty bugs. Before she left a little over an hour ago, Leah injected Spike with five ampoules of morphine. It was all she carried in her bag. It worked pretty well. Spike could barely lift a finger, but it didn't do anything about his mouth. Too bad, that!

Leah promised she'd be back in a couple of hours with more. She said she had no idea how long the effects would last. It was enough drug to kill a human, but she had no clue how it would effect a vampire metabolism. Buffy knew that Giles would go ballistic when he learned how precarious the situation with the recovering vampire was.

Spike called from the couch, "Buffy, don't bother making the tea. Wait and let Giles do it. You couldn't live long enough to learn to make a decent cup of English tea."

She could hear him laughing quietly, obviously pleased with himself. For about one second she felt a wave of pity... the Big Bad reduced to making snarky comments to the one person who loved him enough to allow him to get away with it. Then it occurred to her that there was something she could do that would make them both feel better. She threw her dishtowel over her shoulder and marched over to where Spike lay.

"Listen you. I've had enough." She held up her hand and pinched her fingers together and said, "This is what is left of my patience. One more crack from you, this stake (appeared in her hand as if from thin air) WILL find itself in your heart putting both of us out of our misery.

Spike glared at her but said not a word.

Buffy turned heel, whipping her towel off her shoulder and smiled as she returned to the kitchen. There, she thought. I blew off a little steam and he was dressed down by the Slayer. All's right with the world.

~~~

When Giles and Xander arrived, the table was laid with fresh linens and set for four with the aroma of fresh brewed coffee filling the cottage. Giles told Xander on the way over that this was to be a business meeting. There were developments he wanted to share with everyone and he preferred to tell the story only once. Thus, the mood was somber as they greeted one another and settled at the table. Idle conversation filled the first few minutes while they poured drinks and chose their breakfast. Spike remained on the couch, unable to sit on a hard chair. Buffy served him tea and a scone with butter and jelly without words. Giles and Xander merely took note of the tension between the two lovers, completely unaware of the most recent crisis.

Nourished, the group brought their drinks into the parlor area in deference to Spike and with little fanfare Giles explained that Leah Graham was not only the school's physician, but apparently held the position of Medical Examiner for the local county. He told them of her visit to his office to disclose information that she was not going to include in her autopsy report. Chastity Baker was killed by a vampire.

Xander said, "Binnemon."

Giles replied, "I'm certain." His tone revealing self-recrimination at the decision to delay the capture of the vampire.

Buffy and Xander understood his caution, but Spike was not so kind. With the demon already eating at him, and hungry for blood, all he needed was one small excuse for mayhem. He condemned Giles actions with all the upper class self righteous superiority he could muster knowing that it would hit home harder than the North London slang. Spike assured Giles that he had thousands of souls to account for and he would not accept culpability for this girl’s life too. It was all on Giles.

"I'll leave her to you, Watcher. You can see her face every time you close your eyes. I already have plenty of my own." The fact of it was that they had all agreed on the safer course of action and as a result would all bear the burden of guilt.

The group fell silent. Suddenly, Xander stood and said, in a voice a little too loud, “OK! What’s done is done, huh? The way I see it… and you all know I have a different view of things these days…” he said with a nervous laugh, “anyway… we could spend more time trying to place blame, or we can come up with a plan to get rid of the bastard and his troops now. Right?” Blushing, Xander looked around the group and sat down.

Stunned into silence, they considered the wisdom in Xander’s words. Giles cleared his throat, “Yes…well…jolly good. Buffy, do you think I might have a fresh cup of tea?”

Buffy jumped up, “Oh…yeah…sure…right away,” as she scampered off to the kitchen. Spike muttered something about growing a spine and stating the obvious that nobody acknowledged and after a few more awkward moments, they began to make a plan.

After a good deal of discussion, much of which was not pleasant, or even civil they decided on a strategy. Things were said that would take some healing but they’d been there before. It was a simple enough plan, in fact it could be said in one word. Buffy.

Giles volunteered that ordinarily, with vampire healing, Spike would have been good to go in a couple of days, but the nature of this wound was different.

Buffy and Spike exchanged glances as they thought about Dr. Graham’s wish to slow his vampire healing. Of course, Giles and Xander had no clue about that and the couple wanted it to stay that way.

Xander wanted to put the young slayers to work but Giles slammed the door shut on that one right off. The school full of slayers could not help. It was too risky. True, they were Slayers, but they were young and had not yet learned the value of holding one’s tongue. If they got wind of what actually happened they would spill everything to the first willing ear and that would mean certain death to the Council’s dreams for the future.

No…Buffy, she alone in all the world, would make it safe for everyone….again. Spike was beside himself with rage and new rants began. Things might not be perfect for he and Buffy just now, but that didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t stand the thought of her in danger when he couldn’t be there to watch her back. Once they realized that Spike’s objection was based only on his concern for Buffy, they agreed that she would never patrol alone, one of them would always accompany her.

“Not exactly the same as me, eh? Shit! Both of you together still can’t make up for me not bein’ there for her,” Spike said.

“But you’re not gonna be there are you?” said Xander giving in to his inner adolescent.

Giles and Buffy both stood to interrupt what was about to turn into something ugly. Buffy cried out, “Stop it! Now!”

The room was silenced. “Xander, Giles,” Buffy said. “Go home. Spike needs his rest and so do I. One of you come by later and we’ll patrol.”

Giles said, “But Buffy, we need to finalize some details.”

Buffy was so tired. “Just go. We’ve said enough.” Buffy closed the door behind them.

“Good riddance, yeah?” Spike said.

Buffy couldn’t stop the words as they sprang from her mouth, “Shut up, Spike.”

Many thanks to beta: myfeetshowit

Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. Original characters are mine.

Chapter ~28 ~ New Horizons ~ Lost Hope

Binnemon sat on his cot, head in hand, listening for the others to settle. He was so filled with rage, he knew if he moved he would smash something and alert the others. Their bellies were full and they would sleep. If they knew what happened, and what it meant, they would turn on him. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he tried to think. He began to pace. The more he tried to calm himself, the angrier he became. Think it through, he told himself. Stupid, worthless lout! A low growl escaped his throat as he tore at his own skin in frenzied rage. Unable to stand still another moment, Binnemon crashed out of his quarters and tore through the great door into the night slamming the sentry against the wall. The minion’s head and bones were crushed with the force of the blow. Mortally wounded, but undead, the minion could only lie behind the door unable to alert the others of their Master’s actions.
~~~
In light of the current circumstances and understanding how difficult things were for Mr.
Giles, Adele started coming in early to work. She thought about the argument she had with her husband the night before. He reminded her that just a short while ago she was ready to quit because of her boss and now she was going to work early to make his life easier. He accused her of having an affair. "An affair! Really!”

Adele had stopped at every store that sold newspapers on her way to work and bought every copy she could. She knew it wouldn’t make a difference. People would still follow the news on the telly, but it just galled her to know that people thought her boss, the kindest man she’d ever met, had something to do with this horrible murder. She felt she just had to do something. So now, she worked up a sweat as she took the papers from her car and stuffed them into trash bags to haul to the dumpster. Adele brushed her hair out of her eyes and stopped long enough to catch her breath as she glanced around hoping no one saw her.

Renewed, she stormed into the office to get things ready for the onslaught of calls that would no doubt interfere with the usual business of the day. Protecting Mr. Giles from ridiculous calls from parents and thrill seekers was exhausting.
But right now, she had to get the list out to the classrooms for the schedule of interviews. The police were still meeting with the staff and students, some more than once. That set the rumor mill humming. Mr. Giles made announcements each morning and afternoon requesting that speculation about the event be kept to a minimum. He said he understood everyone’s curiosity and concern, but theories unsupported by facts only went to creating unfounded fears. He begged the cooperation of all. It was a pity that he would no sooner finish speaking than the murmurs began again.
~~~
Giles went out to start his car while his tea steeped. He picked up the morning paper on his doorstep and went inside to finish getting ready for work. The headline caught his eye. MURDER, BLOODY MURDER!

“ Bloody” was in red. The papers were taking full advantage of the increase in sales that comes with sensational crime; they kept the headlines melodramatic even though after the second day there was nothing new to report. Yesterday the headline read TEEN SUICIDE AT EXCLUSIVE GIRLS SCHOOL. By evening, they were printing special editions with SLASHER AT LARGE warning the public. None of the stories were completely accurate.

There was one truth that couldn’t be denied. Unretouched photography. There, under today’s headline was a photo of the crime scene…in full color. Even without the body, it was ghastly. The crime scene tape and crushed shrubs covered in blood told the story.

The car was warm as he climbed in and pulled out of the driveway. He wondered if there were ever a time when the fourth estate actually printed the truth.

The papers printed that the child was a ward of the county with no living relatives. The eight-foot hedge lining the school property was littered in thousands of flowers and cards. Sympathy for the poor child with no one to mourn her. When they first appeared it was a touching site. Unable to help himself, he decided to drive round to see if the memorial had grown. With the damp, cold weather in England’s late fall, the flowers and ribbons wilted and the ink ran on the cards and posters underlining the horror of violent death.

Giles heard himself sigh as he joined the procession of cars that slowed as they drove past the school. He clicked the indicator to make his turn into the Academy, took a deep breath, and prepared to face yet another extraordinary day.
~~
In a world of bad, quick healing is one good thing about having a demon share your skin. There’s some other stuff, thought Buffy. Speed, strength and no worries about funky eye wear. Never thought the super healing would have to be moved over to the debit column, even temporarily. She so needed this episode to be over. Four days felt like four months. Her vampire was not himself…or worse, maybe he was exactly himself and she really was the poster child for the world’s worst relationships. Stop it, Buffy, you’ll get through this…We’ll get through this, she thought as she opened the door for Leah Graham.


Every day, she came to remove some of the packing and bring the drugs that kept Buffy from killing Spike. Despite his cruel tongue, Buffy stood by him, held his hand, and cried with him. The pain must have been excruciating. Even though the healing was slower, Spike’s tissue would grow around the packing. This meant that every time Dr. Graham pulled some of the nasty stuff out she pulled out new pieces of him. Once, he insisted on inspecting what she’d taken out convinced that she’d pulled out one of his balls.

~~~

Buffy pulled on a pair of jeans. She wore a tank top under a sweater. The nights were getting really chilly. Giles switched her classes to early evening so she could teach and then patrol. She didn’t like leaving Spike alone and was on the phone arranging for someone to keep an eye on him when he overheard her.

He hollered, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Buffy, in innocence and not seeing things from his point of view, answered honestly, “I’m trying to get someone to stay with you.”

“Right. You’re finding me a babysitter,” he said, still yelling.

She smiled, still clueless to his concern. “No….not a babysitter, but someone to help you. I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone.”

The yelling stopped, replaced with sarcasm, “Because I’m a helpless cripple.”

“Stop it, Spike. You know I don’t think that.” The hairs on Buffy’s neck were starting to get itchy.

“Look, just put the bloody phone down and get on about your business and leave me here to mine,” and then, sotto voce, “I could do with a little peace and quiet.”

“What was that?” Buffy didn’t have super hearing, but she knew he’d crossed a line.

Feigning naivete, Spike looked over his shoulder at her and said, “What, luv?”

Feet spread shoulder wide and arms folded across her chest she answered, “OK, Nancy, what’s the problem here?”

If Spike were capable of turning red he would have, instead his features slid in and out of game face. He was every bit that angry but knew that showing his demon now would be a serious mistake. Just as he was about to speak, the phone rang.

Buffy grabbed the phone with such force she nearly pulled it from the wall. She calmed herself and said, “Buffy here.”

Spike tried to discern who had called, but Buffy's nods and smiles told him nothing. She responded in brief affirmatives that gave him no clue about the conversation. He knew he didn’t dare ask who called. If she wanted him to know, she’d tell him. He might be headstrong, but he wasn’t completely dim.

Buffy smiled…that awful, smarmy, “now I’ve got you” smile and said, “That was MacGregor. He’s been hoping to visit you and Giles told him that since you were going to be alone tonight, it might be the perfect time. He’ll be here shortly.” She made her way to the kitchen continuing, “I’ll just put on a pot of tea and lay out some cookies for you and your little friend.”

“No,” Spike roared. “Call him right back and tell him that I am not receiving this evening.”

“I will do no such thing. Now get yourself cleaned up. Have you seen yourself? You look terrible.”

“Really?…and no, I haven’t seen myself in well over a century.” Spike said, incredulous. “I’ve got an injury here, you know. Have somebody pull your balls out twice a day and see if you feel like sprucing up. I can’t take a bath, you know that…the last one I took resulted in me gettin’ my parts all infected.”

Buffy was furious. “Oh, that was a low blow…and I don’t have balls. But I do have some common decency about cleanliness. I thought you did too. Did you ever hear of sponge bathing?”

“No balls? Brass ones, more like…and yes, I know about sponge bathing!” Spike realized how pathetic he sounded. Big Bad reduced to verbal snarks…christ, he hated this. “Dru and I used to do it all the time…for fun.” There, that ought to get her. “Maybe someone should have offered to help me, that is if someone cared that much.”

Buffy gasped. “Ah, I get it. This is a pity party and you’re the guest of honor. Well here’s a news flash for you, mister. You have been an insufferable idiot. Our little circle of friends have knocked themselves out trying to be good to you and you have been a mean, nasty, selfish brute and yes, I speak for all of us, we are tired of it.

“Now, that man… vampire …whatever he is, is coming to visit with you… because …” it was getting harder to talk because of the lump in her throat, “...he thinks you’re someone special.” Buffy started to tear up. She didn’t mind the crying so much, but she hated that she was losing control. She sobbed, “…and so do I. Now please freshen up while I set out the tea.” She left the room.

Spike was stunned and utterly ashamed. He wanted to say something…but everything he wanted to say seemed so self-serving he thought better of it and remained silent. He gathered himself up and limped to the bedroom to collect a fresh tee shirt and a pair of Buffy’s sweatpants and made his way to the bathroom. When he returned to the parlor he was clean-shaven and scrubbed so clean his face was pink. Buffy watched him struggle back into the room and her heart nearly broke. He was so beautiful…and so penitent. No words of forgiveness were necessary. She stopped him before he sat down and placed both her hands on his now smooth, pink face and kissed him thoroughly.

“I thought maybe you’d like to settle in the big overstuffed chair instead of the sofa. Maybe you won’t feel so much like an invalid, she said as she took the throw from the couch and helped Spike to the chair.

Spike cleared his throat, suddenly thick, “Thanks, pet.”

Before they had a chance to say another word, there came a knock at the door. Buffy grabbed her coat saying, “That’s probably your company. Perfect timing.” Their eyes met and she said, “I love you,” and opened the door. “Mr. MacGregor?”

“Just MacGregor will be fine,” the handsome man in the doorway said.

“Please come in. I’m just on my way out.” She stepped back to allow him entry, smiled and said, “Have fun you two. Save some cookies for me," she said, and was gone.
~~~
MacGregor was by nature a quiet, genteel man; by circumstance, a monster. They were more alike than either of them knew. Spike channeled the inner gentleman he once was, quickly putting MacGregor at ease. They spent the evening sharing stories.

MacGregor was a vampire who thought he knew all there was to know about vampires until he actually met one. Since first meeting Spike, he was hungry to know more. He saw Spike as a authentic font of knowledge…and certainly not just about being a vampire. It tickled his academic wonder to think of how the world had changed in the last one hundred and fifty years…and Spike had been there. He was awe-struck.

No one enjoyed talking more than Spike and when he was the subject….even better. It was definitely a win/win. First, they each told of their turning. Spike explained that while Dru was his true sire, she was in no position to accept the daunting task of teaching a fledge the why and wherefore of being a vampire, so his education fell to Angelus. A hard taskmaster, to be sure…but one who taught him well. There was so much more to say about Angelus, but now was not the time.

MacGregor’s turning was a vampire’s worst nightmare. Spike remembered his first waking and the total disorientation. He had trouble imagining how awful it could have been had Drusilla not been there to take his hand and guide him those first few hours. He felt real sympathy for the Scot, and even more amazed that he survived at all.

As they talked an idea popped into Spike’s head. It seemed reasonable, but he’d have to talk it over with Buffy before he made any suggestions. Here, this MacGregor had been a vamp for forty odd years and for all intents and purposes, he was still a fledge. He could use some help.

Each being a man of letters, the conversation turned to literature and they argued amiably for hours and were surprised when Buffy was back so soon.

“Soon? It’s a little before five. I’ve been out all night…. I guess your visit has gone well then, eh?” Buffy said as she took off her coat, the cold night air billowing from it as she strolled through the room. “Excuse me, really have to wash my hands,” she said, and she was off.

“So then, MacGregor, my schedule is open at the moment and I’m free to entertain any evening,” Spike said, amused at his own joke about his current state of confinement. “If it wouldn’t be an imposition, I would welcome another visit at your convenience.” Buffy listened to the tone and timber of Spike’s request and wondered just when William had revealed himself.

“I’d be honored,” said MacGregor. “I don’t want to seem too anxious, but we haven’t begun to cover the areas I’d hoped to discuss with you. Would this evening be too soon?”

Now this is how a fledgling should behave, deferential and respectful. Spike thought, these new breeds of vamps are just brutes. No class at all. Pity. “I think that would be fine, but why not ring before you come over just in case…..Buffy? MacGregor is leaving now.”

She came out of the bedroom wearing a comfortable sweatsuit. “Thank you for coming, MacGregor.”

“Oh no! Thank you, miss. I’ll be going now. Goodnight.”

As the door closed behind MacGregor, Buffy glanced over to Spike who was busy stacking up some books by the chair. She beamed to see him looking so peaceful and satisfied. Sometimes when she looked at him when he was like this, she thought her heart might burst. She loved him so much. She took a deep breath to slow her heart and said, “Looks like it went well?”

“Very well,” he answered.

Her face twisted into a questioning squiggle as she tilted her head, “….and?”

“And what?” he looked up, still distracted by the books, seemingly not getting what she was thinking.

She answered in the frustrated tone of a child that hadn’t been understood. Tell me about your visit.” After a moment she bargained with, “And I’ll tell you what I’ve been up to!” She smiled and went to him.

“Oh,” he said, finally catching on. He smiled and lay aside the book he was holding in his lap. “Well, c’mere little one and sit by me and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Buffy pouted. “You’re laughing at me.”

“No.” Spike answered, “I’m enchanted by you.”

She settled on the arm of the chair with her arm around his neck twisting her fingers in his curls and listened to his account of his visit with MacGregor. He told her of his idea about taking a forty-year-old fledgling under his wing. At first she thought it was a great idea for both of them but decided she’d like to give it some thought. He was pleased with her answer and said his pet was growing up. They smiled together at that. Buffy stroked his chest and gently slid her hand down his belly to twist her fingers in his other curly hairs.

“Ah, ah, ah, pet. Little girls shouldn’t be playing with broken toys. They might get hurt.”

Her face was crestfallen, “Broken? ‘s not broken!”

He answered, “You’re right, it’s not broken, but it’s not ready yet…”

She grinned…noticing that he’d come to attention! “Oh, it’s ready.”

He sighed, his tone melancholy, “Not yet, luv.”

It was his manner more than his words that convinced her that it was too early for even this kind of play and so she said, bouncing a little, to change the mood and ease his sorrow, “Wanna hear about what I did tonight?”

His smile was tender and…grateful.

They talked until well after sunrise. Buffy said she needed some sleep and went to bed expecting him to follow. Spike watched her go and then moved to the couch and pulled an extra blanket over his shoulders.

Many thanks to beta: myfeetshowit whose patience is infinite

Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. Original characters are mine.

Chapter 29 ~ Tribulation

The team went on, as they always had, full speed ahead. Giles provided Spike with a laptop and an access code to the Council files. That way the work was divided between Giles, Spike, and Xander. Giles still had a school to run… a school in crisis. That left Xander…and now Spike to do research. They knew who the bad guy was, they just had to find him….and find out about him. The more they knew, the safer Buffy would be. Xander called Willow and assigned her an Internet assignment studying maps to learn all she could about the area to find places that might serve as a vampire lair. She was to consider all possibilities from vacant houses to caves and crypts. Each of the schools had extensive libraries, but none so complete as the one in Gloucester so the traditional tedious research would fall to those on the scene.

Buffy was training hard during the day between sessions with the students and she patrolled at night. There was always the off chance that Buffy would encounter Binnemon and the whole ordeal would end right then and there. She had an opportunity to study Binnemon’s employee record with his picture so she knew what to look for. “Fat bald man with fangs. Check!”

Every night before they went out they listened to Spike whine that he should be the one watching Buffy’s back. Every night they reminded him that until his balls were sealed, he wasn’t going anywhere. That shut him up.

Either Xander or Giles served as backup. Independently, they each concluded that it was different on patrol this time and they couldn’t decide why. This enemy was one vampire with some fledglings. There was less of a threat? No, there was something else. Lord knew they’d faced more threatening foes in the past.

It was different this time. Buffy was different. Buffy on patrol stood tall, head held high, literally daring vampires and all beasties encountered to show themselves. Now Buffy was cautious. She listened to the night sounds for clues and startled when she heard them. No more quips and puns. No longer did Buffy thrash through underbrush crushing it as she went, now she moved stealthily so that she might come upon an enemy before they came upon her.

One night when Xander was with Buffy, they came upon what must have at one time been a gardening shed. When the Council acquired the property, they built a Quonset hut to house the larger garden implements and tractors used so they expected the little shed to be vacant. Instead, they found a well-worn path with recent footprints leading to the road. Muddy tracks were visible on the dry pavement, and the scent of snuffed candles lingered in the air. Xander headed for the shed. Buffy became agitated and cautioned him to get away. The danger was too great, she said, adding, “We’ll come back tomorrow, in daylight when we have the advantage.”

Xander couldn’t argue the wisdom of the plan, but in all the times they patrolled together, this was the first time she was Cautious Buffy instead of a Full Speed Ahead Buffy. It was unsettling.

Xander puzzled over how to handle the situation and finally decided he had to talk to Giles about it. On arriving at work the next morning, Xander met Adele waiting for the elevator. They rode in silence. As they exited, Xander asked her to put him on Giles calendar for sometime that day.
~~~
Leah Graham was grateful that her treatment plan was working. The more time she spent with Buffy and Spike, the more she liked them. She smiled as she thought about the way they fought like cats and dogs, but even witnessing the battles, it was evident that they were so very much in love. It was a trying time for them and put a terrible strain on the relationship. She was happy that she could tell them that she expected to remove the last of the packing today.

Spike was losing weight, and it baffled her. She had asked Buffy to keep a diary of what he consumed each day for her to study. She was sure his survival needs were being met. Buffy admitted her concern, but the doctor offered no words of comfort. Leah wanted to do more testing, but with the American holiday upon them, she didn’t see any harm in waiting until after Buffy’s sister returned to America. After all they’d been through, this was a special family time. She didn’t want to cast a pall on the visit.
~~~
Buffy’s assignment was to spend more time in training. She knew that was what she needed better than anyone. In the classes with the slayers, she’d been bested more than once. She covered it well, at least she thought she did, with jokes and comments to let the girls think it was intended. She wasn’t nearly as fast and she wasn’t as strong as she once was. There hadn’t been any open wounds but bruises took longer to go away and a good hot bath wasn’t so much a luxury as a necessity. Spike teased her about her lengthy baths. She didn’t think he noticed that she was taking Motrin twice a day or that he wasn’t the only one losing weight.

Buffy hadn’t mentioned it to anyone and considered talking to Dr. Graham about it. She said she had a familiarity with vampire and slayer physiology. Maybe she could shed some light on what was going on. It wasn’t a concern until now. Of late, Buffy's life had become cushy. Her strength and speed were no longer needed except for demonstration purposes. Now her life depended on it. More than ever, she wanted to live. Maybe while everyone was in research mode she’d throw in a hypothetical question about slayer prophecies regarding diminishing powers. It would be tricky. Spike had a way of hearing things she never said.
~~~
The New Council Academy for Exceptional Girls was holding it’s own after a week of horror, loss, sorrow, and disruption. Everyone, down to the last employee knew the ordeal wasn’t nearly over, but at least things had quieted down a bit.

For all persons connected with the school, and most especially for the girls, the Council arranged a private memorial service. The girls needed to grieve. It was the best they could do until the body was released. The Council had assumed guardianship of Chastity when she came to the school and now held the responsibility for final arrangements. Giles asked Xander to investigate the “ownership” of the graveyard adjacent to the school. He hoped that the Council could take over its stewardship and provide a burial place for Chastity…. and others connected with the school, and the Council, for that matter….if they so wished, himself included. It wasn’t anything he’d ever given thought to before, but now, the notion seemed correct.

The Memorial Service was tasteful, open only to the staff and students. An invitation was extended to the parents of the other girls. Giles was grateful when none chose to attend but many sent condolences in the form of financial gifts for a memorial or a scholarship in Chastity’s name. Others sent telegrams expressing their support for the school. He was surprised that not one parent or guardian called in anger, demanding answers as to how such a tragedy could occur. It saddened him and reinforced the notion that they were relieved to be free of their vexatious daughters. Lydia Chalmers served as mistress of ceremonies.

After a non-denominational prayer service, anyone who wished said a few words. Funeral rituals commonly bring tears, Giles thought, for no other reason than they remind us of our own mortality. As the girls expressed their sorrow, he observed that their comments were devoid of emotion. Not cold, exactly, but stiff and forced. Chastity hadn’t been at the school long enough to make friends. The girls cried, but Giles felt their tears were more out of fear than sorrow. Unfortunately, the media sullied the whole event as they tried to get compelling photographs of grief. It sickened him.

~~~

Giles hung up the phone after a conversation with Willow when Adele’s voice came over the intercom saying that Mr. Harris was here to see him. A smile came to his face. “Send him in, please Adele.”

“Your timing couldn’t be better, Xander. I just got off the phone with Willow. She sends her regards.”

“Geez, Giles, you’re in a chipper mood. We have asteroids tumbling into our lives and you’re positively glowing. I don’t get it,” said Xander sitting down and taking on a serious tone. “Actually, I’ve got something important to talk to you about.”

“As do I, Xander, but the word from Willow was good and any good news these days is most welcome. Allow me to bask in the moment if you don’t mind.” Giles pressed the intercom and asked Adele to step in for a moment.

“Bask away, G-man, as long as I can bask along with you. There’s good news? That’s different.”

Giles took off his glasses and reached in his vest pocket for his handkerchief. “Yes….” Giles really didn’t want to share that he asked Willow to use her influence with the Covens to cast a spell on the staff and students. The good news had to do with their success and the reassurance that no lasting effects were expected. Now he had to think fast. Come up with something that Xander would believe. Thankfully, he had a reprieve when Adele came in.

“Mr. Giles?” was all she said. Adele was a changed woman. Where she had been chatty and cheerful before, now she was sullen and withdrawn. The events of the past few weeks had taken a toll. DI Arthur’s investigation had cast suspicion on Mr. Giles as well as other staff members and planted a seed of doubt in her mind. It hurt him deeply that she would even consider the possibility that he might have committed such a horrendous crime. Still, he understood that once an element of fear emerged, someone with only a casual acquaintance might allow that seed to grow. He wanted to shout at her to stop being ridiculous, but recalled that her husband wanted to poke him in the nose over nothing more than a little disagreement. If he thought that Adele was convinced that Giles was the killer, he’d come after him guns-a-blazing.

“Ah, Mrs. Reed. As you know, I wasn’t expecting Mr. Harris but as it happens there are some things I need to go over with him. Would you be kind enough to bring his file as well as Ms. Summers file… and one more thing….maybe some tea?” With her attitude of late he feared she was going to tell him to get his own damned tea. She agreed without a fuss, so maybe things weren’t as bad as he feared.

“My file, Giles? Should I be concerned? I came to see you, remember? You’re supposed to be wondering what I wanted, not making me wonder what you want…that’s the way it works.”

“Yes, yes, I know that,” Giles said, becoming impatient. “Let’s just wait until Adele brings the files and tea, alright?” After an awkward silence, Giles went on, “Tell me now, have you seen the inspector again? Do you know how the investigation is going? What about this damn spreadsheet he’s so proud of? Is it telling him anything we don’t already know?”

“Wow!” Xander said, sitting up straighter in his chair. “That was a boatload of questions…important questions. Did you ever think he might have your office bugged?” he said, glancing around the office with suspicion. “I think you’re the prime suspect. Maybe you should be choosing your words more carefully.”

“Bugged?” cried Giles. Adele brought in the files and the tea on a tray with biscuits.

“Bugs?” She said nearly dropping the tray. “Where? Should I call the exterminator?”

Xander jumped in for the rescue, “No, not bugs, Mrs. Reed. I told Mr. Giles he bugged me and he was offended. Do you know what that means, Mrs. Reed?”

“Indeed I do, Mr. Harris. It means you feel that Mr. Giles is getting under your skin. Making you itchy…bugging you.” She raised her chin indignantly and said, “I’m sure if that’s true, Mr. Harris, you needed a thorough bugging.” With that, she turned on her heel and left the room.

“Great G. I cover your ass and get mine whipped!”

Giles smiled. “I’m rarely that lucky.” Turning somber, he said, “Now, are you honestly concerned that this office may be bugged?”

“Stranger things have happened, my man… and if they got a warrant for surveillance, they can use anything you said against you.”

With a mouth full of cookie, Giles mumbled, “So, what do I do….um….sweep for bugs…that is the right term, isn’t it?”

“Sheesh, I don’t know.” Xander was stuck for a moment, it sounded like Giles really wanted his advice…this was unexpected. He thought a bit and then said, “What about calling Willow? I may have gotten you upset over nothing. She’s got all kinds of protection spells going right? Maybe there’s nothing to be concerned about…you know?…all lines blocked and all?”

“Right you are. I’ll call her now.” He picked up the phone and then paused, “But you wanted to talk to me about something important, something strange. Stranger than usual, I presume,” Giles said, reaching for another cookie.

For a second Xander was startled. He had come here with one purpose and had been distracted by at least three different things in the meantime. “Oh! Right…. um…. yeah….it’s kind of awkward.” He cleared his throat. “Um…I don’t know where to start.”

Giles put the phone down carefully and stared at Xander, expressionless. “Now I am concerned. Go on.”

“OK. Straight out with it. I’m worried about Buffy.”

Giles did not react at all, just said an elongated, “Yes.”

“Yes.” Xander replied as he squirmed in his seat. “I think there’s something wrong with her. When we patrol she is extra careful. She hasn’t fought with anything since…well, since I don’t know when. If we see tracks or signs that there is something around she just “takes note” and says she’ll come back in the daylight to check it out. She lets me take the lead… me!”

Giles took a deep breath before speaking. “Isn’t it possible there isn’t anything out there? We’ve been here almost two years and weren’t aware of any demonic activity…although, now I realize we were living in a fool’s paradise and chose not to see the signs.”

“No. A couple of times when her super strength was called for and she didn’t have the stuff. She made a joke and blew it off saying since Spike is here she feels all girly and lets him be the man! But that doesn’t wash because he’s laid up…so much for manliness.”

“Alright, this is to go no further than this room, do you understand?” Giles said, standing. He walked around his desk.

“What makes this different than anything else? Of course I understand. Geez , Giles, you act like this is my first time round the block.”

Giles stared him down. “I’ve noticed the same behavior myself. I even asked if she was ill. She denied it vehemently. The only thing I could get her to admit to was that she and Spike were having some difficulties. She refused to elaborate….” He paused, “for …which …I was eternally grateful. I do not wish to know the particulars of their relationship. I have a vivid imagination and prefer not to dwell on what they do in their alone time.”

“With you on that one, chief.”

Continuing, Giles said, “Still, I can understand that something wrong between them would take a toll on Buffy’s psyche. I remember a time in the past when she was so lost that I feared she no longer had a will to go on and as such was a danger to herself. Do you think something like that may be happening now?”

“Honestly? No. It’s as if she’s afraid of getting hurt. Maybe what happened to Spike has done a number on her.”

Giles returned to his seat. “Xander, I want to thank you for coming to me with this. I’m not sure how to handle it. Maybe I’ll talk to Leah Graham about it. I think the Holiday gathering and Dawn being here may help. At the very least, Dawn may get her to talk and find out what’s troubling her.”

“Hey man, you know I’ve always loved her a little more than I should. I worry about her.” Xander rose to leave. “I’ll catch you later.” Startled by the remark, Giles glanced up just in time to see the door close.

~~~

Thanksgiving was nearly upon them. Dawn would be arriving Wednesday evening. Giles had already arranged for Pinthistle to pick her up at the airport. In the meantime a small war was brewing regarding Dawn staying in the dorm.

Spike said: She shouldn’t stay in the dorm because it may not be safe.

Buffy said: What could be safer than being with thirty slayers? She shouldn’t stay in the cottage because you’re convalescing. She should stay in the dorm because there’s really no room for her in the cottage.

Spike said: She’s your sister, where else should she stay but with family

Buffy said: There’s no room in the cottage.

Spike said: She doesn’t take up much room. What about her privacy?

Buffy said: What about our privacy?

And on and on it went.

To the outward observer, life in True Love Cottage (named by MacGregor and turned into Twisted Love Cottage by Xander) was nothing short of Paradise. Buffy had become the perfect caretaker. She saw to Spike’s every need, and Spike was gracious in return. As the swelling went down and the discoloration ebbed, Spike was up and about as much as Buffy allowed.

Anyone who knew Spike at all knew that he was usually in a state of perpetual motion. The limitations of movement and blood restriction further agitated him. Dr. Graham left Spike in charge of his blood intake, as he was nothing else if not responsible where Buffy’s safety was concerned. Unable to prove his strength with smash and bash, he sought to demonstrate his strength through will power and allowed himself only six ounces of pig blood every other day. He quoted the doctor who insisted that slowing his metabolism would increase the probability of beating this thing. With too much time on his hands, the one thought that consumed his thoughts was that he might not beat this thing. Life was playing the cruelest trick of all.

He was a man of more than average intelligence. That was a truth even before he was turned. Now, with nearly 150 years of living and exposure to all that had happened to the world in that time, he was a veritable encyclopedia of knowledge and he knew how to use it. It all went for naught when his heart did his thinking. Spike knew he was hurting Buffy and he was helpless to stop. He loved her with all that he was, but he feared that he was no longer whole. Their relationship was so much more than sex but he couldn’t ignore that part of it. They were perfect sexual partners, all at once wild and tender, passionate and sweet. He worried that he could no longer….do his part….and was terrified to find out. Rather than deal with it, he avoided being alone with her…in fact, he avoided being alone with her at all.

Buffy never said a word about it. She didn’t need to. He saw the hurt in her eyes every time she tried to be near him. He would pretend to be asleep when she came in the room or keep MacGregor talking until she was too tired and went to bed. He made sure he showered when she wasn’t there. Showering together had always been a special time for them. Now, Dawn was coming and could stay at the cottage….maybe that would give him the time he needed to work things out.

Buffy knew well enough that they were in trouble, but she really didn’t have any clue what was happening. All she knew was that once again, she was alone. It was killing her, she was sure of it. She felt herself weakening every day and it was because she could not face another loss. There were too many losses in her life and now she was losing Spike. What was the point of going on if it meant going on without him? She knew the signs. She remembered when her parents divorced. Whatever room her Mom and Dad were in together was always cold, tense. Now, she felt it whenever she walked into the cottage and every night as she slept alone. As she frantically tried to reason why this was happening, she decided that he must have known he would tire of her and that was why he didn’t try to find her when he came back. Her one hope was that they could find healing in an embrace. Dr. Graham said that Spike’s wound was healed. Thanksgiving was coming. Dawn would be visiting but she was going to stay at the dorm. MacGregor wouldn’t come over the holiday. Maybe that would give them time alone to be in one another’s arms.
~~~

Many thanks to my betas: The amazing nightshift, from Elysian Fields, the brilliant cloviss, and the marvelous janet1867

Chapter 30 ~ Crimes of the Heart

Detective Inspector David Arthur stood at the window in his shirtsleeves, with his hands in his pockets, looking out from the office the school had made available for use as his temporary headquarters. Those who didn’t know him often made the mistake of assuming his personality was as nondescript as his appearance. He was actually quite a handsome man, looking younger than his forty-eight years. His complexion was pale and his eyes gray under a pate of thin brown hair. He was of average height and carried no extra weight. About the only remarkable thing about him was that his dress was always impeccable. He was never without a gleaming white shirt, French cuffs, matching tie clasp and cuff links, a knife-sharp crease in his trousers, and leather braces.

As he enjoyed the late afternoon sun on the expanse of lawn that separated Tudor Hall and the Administration Building, his thoughts turned again to Rupert Giles. The man was an enigma. When word of the crime first got out, his office was flooded with calls from people in high places…very high places, cautioning the inspector to tread lightly. Mr. Giles was an important man.

Investigation into Giles’ background revealed that he had, in the course of a rather sordid youth, thoroughly embarrassed his family, a family which had included several Members of Parliament. Evidently breeding will out, and when he was in his early twenties he had returned to his roots and entered into serious study with the Watcher’s Council. No amount of investigation revealed any information about what it was the Watcher's Council watched. Perhaps the most startling fact, among many other interesting facts regarding the Council, was that its original headquarters had been the target of a terrorist bombing several years earlier. The entire staff on duty at the time was killed, leaving the organization in the hands of the few that had been on assignment elsewhere. The organization had huge land holdings in Britain and throughout the world, but how they came into them remained a mystery. All of these dead ends led Arthur to believe he was right in being suspicious of the headmaster.

As the shadows lengthened, DI Arthur turned and studied the dry erase board showing the carefully outlined timeline, a simplified version of the spreadsheet. The crime scene photographs were posted on a corkboard next to it. The details of Chastity Baker’s horrible death were laid out for them, lest they forget. The investigators must never become complacent or matter of fact. He was sorry they didn’t have a better picture of her in life. They had her official school photo. It was very formal and she wasn’t smiling. Pictures of victims happy and alive, in contrast to the crime scene photos, create a powerful incentive for his team to get the job done!

The school itself had him puzzled. He thought he knew about exclusive girls’ schools. They were either academically superior, with outstanding reputations for guaranteeing their students went on to the finest worldwide universities, or they were incredibly expensive baby sitters for incorrigible daughters of wealthy and privileged families. He and Carruthers went through each student’s file and learned the latter was more likely to be the situation here. Some of the girls struggled to keep pace even at lower levels.

There were some from distinguished families, but only a few. As Arthur’s team compared notes, they found that there were some common denominators. Each girl had a troubled history, and had been under the care of professional or school psychologists. Those records were not available, protected by rules regarding doctor/patient confidentiality. Of course, with probable cause they could get a court order to gain access, but only on an individual basis. Another similarity lay in physical prowess. While interesting, neither man thought this information important. Private schools were full of troubled youth. Sports and exercise were tools commonly used to channel aggression.

Taking a deep breath, leaning back in his chair, stretching both arms out wide and finally folding them behind his head, Arthur said to Carruthers, “Well, any ideas?”

Jack Carruthers looked up to meet his boss’s gaze with what could only be described as an utterly vacant expression. The Inspector knew his Sergeant to be a dedicated police officer, married to his job. His mind was always on the job, even if he wasn’t, or so DI Arthur thought, until this moment. “Jack…Are you with me?”

Obviously startled back to the moment, Carruthers said, “I’ve been thinking about that Constable Granger and no.”

“No what?” the Inspector said furrowing his brow.

“No, I don’t have any ideas, exactly….except that I’ve been thinking about Granger.”

“Hmmm,” was all Arthur said as he studied Carruthers' dark, carefully parted military hair cut. He must use some sort of gel in it, he thought; it always looked wet. Why he was noticing these things now, one could not say. It occurred to him that the man never, ever loosened his tie or shirt collar. Being a portly fellow with a naturally red face, he looked the sort who would breathe better with his collar loosened. At least, Arthur thought with some satisfaction, I’ve finally convinced him that when we’re in the office and not in the public eye, it’s all right to remove our jackets. Even suggested he would be remiss if he didn’t. Need to keep suit jackets fresh and all that. He finally answered, “You don’t seriously suspect him of being involved?”

Carruthers turned to him, “Well, for one thing, the amount of time from the discovery of the body until the local authorities were called was overly long, in my opinion.” He rose to fix himself a cup of tea. “Seems to me that a man who identifies himself as a retired copper knows that you don’t wait to call in a crime.” He gestured with his spoon as he spoke, “Could it be that he was protecting someone? Your favorite suspect maybe?” As he poured his milk he went on, “Although I must admit when I spoke with him, I never had any sense that he and this Giles fellow had anything but an employer/employee relationship.”

Arthur sat up and shuffled folders; “I’m looking for the folder with the interview with the Constable, Jack. You don’t have it, do you?”

“No sir, but it might be on Nan’s desk. She’s been transcribing all our notes and getting the facts into the spreadsheets for us. Hold on, I’ll go look. She’s never bitten my head off for looking around her stuff.” He went to a cubicle on the other side of the room. Arthur heard some drawers opening and closing and more paper shuffling and then a hand waving a manila folder shot in the air, “Got it! I’ll just leave her a sticky to tell her I took it and gave it to you.”

DI Arthur stood up and reached for his jacket, straightened his collar and tie and gathered the folder, “I think I’m going to call it a night, Jack. We have some interesting days ahead. I spoke with Mrs. Reed. She tells me that another friend from America is arriving tonight and will be staying here at the school.”

“Mrs. Reed has a friend from America?”

That stopped Arthur short. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again deciding to hold his tongue. After a moment he said, “Mr. Giles has a friend coming from America. Evidently, he, and his American friends will be celebrating Thanksgiving, so he won’t be working on Thursday.”

“We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in England, sir.”

“Yes, Jack. I know that, but it seems Mr. Giles does. It strikes me that if he is in a holiday mood, he may lower his guard a bit. It might make for a good time for an interview. It’s still a workday for us. I’m taking the Granger folder with me to look over this evening. Barring unexpected events, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

“I don’t understand having a holiday on Thursday, sir.”

“Nor do I, Jack. Nor do I.”

~~~
Giles unlocked his cottage door. It was the first time he’d been alone with some time to sit in peace in his own place in what felt like an eternity. The silence was blissful. The cottage was unkempt, but he didn’t care. He was not going to spoil this respite by scurrying around tidying up.

He hung his jacket on the coat tree by the door and put his briefcase next to it. He did not intend to work on school matters tonight. He smiled as he considered the dinner he planned for himself. He could have gone to the dining hall and had a well-balanced meal, but he knew that meant being social. No, he knew there was a loaf of fresh bread in the bin. He was looking forward to thick slices of toasted bread slathered with butter and jam, with a steaming hot cup of tea.

Once the meal was ready, he opened his briefcase and took out the newspaper. It would keep him company during his meal. He flipped the paper over. When he has time to enjoy a leisurely perusal of the paper, he likes to start from the back. The habit began in childhood, when he would always read the funnies first. Giles still enjoys the funnies, but now he reads the adverts too. Once, when Xander made fun of the quirk, Giles countered that a community often reveals a lot about itself in ads. At the time, they were very new to the area and they needed all the help they could get. About halfway through, Giles started coming to the continuations of stories from the front page when a smaller headline caught his eye:

Continued from page 2, Gruesome Murders

“Good Lord, it’s over a week. Isn’t it bad enough that we endure a constant police presence? What now?” he queried aloud to the newspaper in front of him, as he flipped to the front page. Giles' mouth fell open.

Slaughter in Bishops Cleeve

'The bodies of seven people, four women and three men, were found in St. Paul’s car park in the early hours of the morning. The victims have not yet been identified. The church sexton, Timothy O’ Meara, alerted the Vicar, John Buckingham, to the tragedy and the police were subsequently notified. Both men declined comment to the press. The police have secured the scene and will not release any further information at this time. Story continues on page 15. Gruesome Murders.'


The picture under the headline showed a small church surrounded by crime scene tape.
Giles turned to page 15. The story offered no further useful information. “So it’s new murders, not our murder.” Giles dropped his head in his hands. “I should have seen this coming. It was probably foretold. This sort of massacre doesn’t happen randomly. I haven’t even been looking at a calendar.” He drank down the last of his tea as he pondered whether to call Willow or Leah first.

~~~
Binnemon was back at the winery lying on his cot. His belly was full and he was smiling. Chaos ruled. Screams, blood, torn flesh. He hadn’t been on a rampage like that since before Fiona. Ooh, she wouldn’t have been happy with him. He remembered the thrashings and smiled even broader and shrugged, “Well, it’s all shite now. Years of workin’ a plan and then makin’ it work…It shoulda worked…It woulda worked.” He sat up on the edge of the cot and found he was still smiling. “Ain’t nuthin’ like bustin’ and bashin.”

Binnemon stood and picked up his cigarettes and lighter, put one to his lips and took a deep drag. As he leaned against the wall, he remembered the blood of those girls. He knew there was no escaping it. He would have to have it. No more patience, no more takin’ care. Tomorrow night he was going to let the beasties loose. There’d be blood and bash like this place never seen. He snubbed out the cigarette and lay down again. He was tired. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep…with the smile still on his face.

~~~

They were going to be late. Xander was worried that Dawn would be waiting at the airport, disappointed that no one came to meet her. Pinthistle assured him that he’d met this flight many times and it was pointless to be there at the ETA and was proud that he knew the acronym meant Expected Time of Arrival. It disappointed him that Xander knew too. Pinthistle told him that Customs would detain her for a considerable amount of time. It made sense, but Xander would rather be waiting at the airport than still driving to it. He knew how lonely it felt when no one was there to meet you and he also knew the gratification in seeing a friend’s face light up when you came through the door.

It turned out that Pinthistle was right. Xander had drifted off to sleep twice in the connected, color coordinated, ergonomically correct airport chairs. Once, he awoke as a traveler dragged his luggage over his feet. Admittedly, his feet stretched out into the aisle. Still, the guy could have just tapped his foot instead of crushing it with the wheel of his American Tourister luggage. The second time, a tiny, elderly woman gently shook him awake. He had fallen asleep on her shoulder and she needed to get up. They had called her flight. Meantime, Pinthistle was asleep in the comfortable reclining car seat. Xander decided it was one more thing he would have to add to the “Lessons Learned” column of his Life Notebook.

Xander watched the passengers as they came through the doors from Customs. Several persons of the female persuasion caught his attention, but only one approached him. He was appreciating her considerable attributes, never glancing above her neck, when he heard a familiar voice.

“Hello? I’m up here,” Dawn said, smiling at the Xander she remembered so well. She was afraid he’d grown up. There was tweed, knit sweater and loafers, but the same old Xander.

Caught in the act, Xander twitched, and said, “Huh? Oh my God, Dawn,” cleared his throat and continued, “You’ve grown up!”

Laughing, they threw their arms around each other, then backed away; both embarrassed by the display of affection when each of them had changed so much.

Still shuffling backward, Xander said, “Well then, let me get those bags for you.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“So when’d you get your hair cut?” Xander said, leading the way to the car. “You could have given me a clue, you know. I was looking for a skinny kid with long hair,”

“I know what you were looking at,” Dawn replied. “Gee, it’s been so long, I forgot I ever had long hair. The first few inches were tough, and then I went wild and had it cut short…. Boy short. This cut has been around for a few months now. I think it’s the one.” Her hair was chin length, still straight, but shaped. Full and bouncy, like in hair commercials. She knew Xander was no stranger to different hairdos. Anya had been president of the Hairdo of the Week Club. She decided not to bring that up. “What about you? When did you go all tweed?”

Xander stopped to switch shoulders. Her bags were heavy. “How long are you staying?”

“Shut up! A girl needs a few essentials. Just answer the question,” Dawn said, pushing him along.

“It’s cold here,” he said.

“No. No changing the subject.”

Xander smiled and said, “Seriously, it’s cold and damp. The Academy buildings are mostly very old, stone affairs without central heating. Wool is wise.”

“Oh,” was all she said, as she tumbled into thought considering the clothes she had packed. Cool, she thought, looks like I may need to do some shopping.

~~~

“Spike? Spike? Where are you?” Buffy said, as she came into the cottage laden with bags and boxes. Looking flushed, she scraped her shoes on the doorstep. Something was stuck deep in the grooves and it wouldn’t come off. She dropped the parcels on the floor, glad to be rid of the burden. “Whew! I think I’m getting old! I used to be able to carry a lot more than that and never even break a sweat,” she said, laughing. “Spike, are you here?” He’d better be here, she thought. It was possibly the brightest autumn day she’d ever seen, aglow with color still on the trees and blowing on the ground and so not a day for him to be walking about. No sooner than the thought entered her mind it went straight to her solar plexus and she began to have a sick feeling. She looked down at her shoes. Oh God, no. With anxiety evident in her voice she screamed, a little too loudly, “Damn it, vampire, where are you?”

Stepping from the bathroom, Spike quietly said, “Right here, pet. What’s got your bustle all fluffed?”

“My bustle fluffed? Why in hell didn’t you answer me? You scared me to death.” She rushed toward him and went to throw herself around his neck. Just as quickly he sidestepped her move and walked over to the packages on the floor.

“What’s all this? Thanksgiving shopping? You do know that the Watcher has that all under control? All you have to do is the turkey, at least that’s what he said to me. His staff was going to take care of the rest. Oh, and hey, look at the table linens and decorations they sent over for you to make a nice table.” He was doing everything he could to change the subject from the hug that never happened.

Buffy’s heart was in a knot, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction that she even noticed the slight although there was a lump the size of a California orange in her throat. She waited to speak until she was certain her voice wouldn’t catch and give her away. “Actually, I’ve been shopping for you mostly, and a couple of things for me. Thanksgiving is kind of a dress-up holiday in my tradition and you’ve only been able to wear those sweat pants. I thought you might like having something a little nicer, but still comfortable for the day.” She was so off her game now. The shopping had been so much fun and now she just felt so deflated and stupid. Still she went on, “I’ve noticed you still haven’t tried to wear your jeans, so I can only guess the rough fabric still irritates …your …um…wound.” She stooped and sorted the boxes and bags, “So…I bought you a couple of pairs of fine silk/wool blend casual slacks. One in gray and one in black,” she said, eyes lowered to avoid his as she handed him the two boxes.

“Buffy,” was all that Spike said; he could feel the hurt rolling off her and it went straight to his soul. He took the boxes and placed them on his lap, making no move to open them. It appeared he was going to go on when Buffy broke in, she wasn’t sure she would be able to keep it together if he said anything nice…or anything mean…God, she had no idea where she stood anymore.

She tried to sound bright but it sounded forced, “Oh, and I got you accessories too. Two belts, both black, but one is braided and a pair of black braided braces too. I tried to imagine you wearing braces and it didn’t work, but I thought for sure if I didn’t get them, they would have been just what you wanted.”
She scrambled for more bags, “In this box is the softest orange cashmere v-neck sweater I’ve ever had my hands on. It just seemed to be the right color, seasonal and all, you know? And there’s a black one just like it and a light blue one too.” she said, still not meeting his eyes. “Um… and there’s three silk oxford shirts, one in red…” She lowered her voice, “I remembered you had a red shirt you used to like to wear,” then a long pause while she swallowed the lump in her throat, “and a black one and a deep purple one…I liked the colors.”

He still made no move to open anything. He wondered how anything so simple as looking over the results of a shopping adventure could hurt so much.

Pulling herself together, she said, “OK then, just a couple more things. Socks! A half dozen pair of good black socks and a pair of dress loafers, I just didn’t think of you as the “wing-tip” type. That’s it. Actually, I thought about some brown shoes or some sneakers, but decided no….” She spoke quickly so that she could move on, “I’ll just bring everything into the bedroom and you can try them on…if you want to, that is…um… I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to force anything on you…Um… I’ll just take them… you can do whatever you want.”

Spike just sat. Never made a move. Never said a word. He didn’t know what to say… Or do. He was afraid to follow her, knowing it would force a confrontation. He wasn’t ready yet.

After about ten minutes, Buffy came out dressed in work out clothes; face red and tear- stained. Her hair was pulled back into a quick ponytail. She passed through the room in a flash, grabbed her jacket and ran out the door. “Bye. Going for a run,” was all she said, her voice broken and sounding nothing at all like Buffy.

As she grabbed her jacket, she knocked something out of the pocket of the coat she had worn shopping. Spike picked it up to put it back but the box fell open. It contained a man’s expensive gold ID bracelet. Only one word was engraved on it. Mine.

~~

X-posted: spike_fics, spuffy_fics, captured_kissThis fic is archived at Elysian Fields, The Fonts of Wisdom, The Crypt,The Spuffy Realm and Aamah's Live Journal

Chapter 31 ~ Confession

This afternoon was supposed to be a moment to relax, take a breather. The past few weeks were a stark reminder that nothing ever stays the same. Giles recalled that it was just days ago his biggest worry was how to deal with the head of the Food Services Department about keeping within her budget. He was embarrassed now as he actually thought he could divest himself of involvement with apocalyptic events. Realizing he was exaggerating, he suspected this business wasn’t an apocalypse; but it was surely the next best thing. Now, who to call first? Ease himself into the nightmare…which call would be the least unsettling? Which news did he want first, the bad news or the really bad news? He knew the Coven maintained strict scrutiny on the calendar and prophecies. Talking to Willow might reveal that he should have been well warned regarding the murders in Bishops Cleeve…but maybe not. Leah would probably know if the killings were vampire attacks… maybe not. Resigned, he took his seat in his favorite chair and sighed, “Into the breach…,” as he picked up the phone and called Willow.

It wasn’t until he heard the first ring that he thought to check his watch. What time was it there? Early afternoon. Good. He wouldn’t have to start with an apology for waking her. Willow answered on the second ring. “Willow, it’s Giles.”

“Giles. How nice. I was just thinking of you,” Willow replied.

Oh no, he thought, she wanted to tell me about the prophecy. “Really? Something important?”

“No, just wondering about Buffy’s visit. Dawn flew out last night, so she should be there sometime soon too, right?”

“Um…yes…Xander went to meet her at the airport. I expect I’ll see her this evening.” He couldn’t hide the urgency in his voice as he decided to move on past the pleasantries. He talked fast to prevent her from jumping into the conversation. “Willow, some bad things have been happening here as you know and now there have been some brutal murders in a village nearby. I’m terribly worried that it might have been something I could have aborted.” There he said it. Just admitting his fears helped allay them. Now he just needed to muster the courage to hear what Willow had to say.

“Giles, there are witches here in the Coven whose only concern are the stars and the movement of the Earth, Moon and Planets. If anything important were happening I certainly would have contacted you.”

“Thank God…And of course, I know that is true; my apologies for even thinking anything else. It’s just that we are dealing with some strange events just now and I feared that with my attention on so many things, I would have to accept responsibility for having not paid attention to the signs.”

Willow was quiet for a time and then said, “I know how you feel Giles, but evil happens all over the world every day and it has nothing to do with recorded anticipated evil. With all the power we have, we are powerless.”

Giles smiled and wondered when Willow became so wise…and so old. “How true. I’m afraid I have to cut this call short. I have other calls to make. I’m sorry for worrying you. Everyone here is fine,” he finished, lying. He didn’t have enough time to go into all that had happened in the last few weeks.

Willow said goodbye and ended with a Wiccan blessing. He didn’t know what it meant, but he was glad for all the help he could get.

Giles poured another cup of tea, returned to his chair, and dialed Leah. Voice mail. “Damn.”

He left a short message. “Call Giles. It’s important.”

~~

Buffy was just getting out of the shower when she heard a huge commotion in the parlor. She wrapped a towel around her head and threw a robe on. She didn’t imagine her day could get any worse. After leaving Spike and going for a run she tried to use the time to make sense of what was going on in her life and it all came back to the same thought.. Spike never intended to come back and now he didn’t know how to bow out gracefully. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get any further. Each time she pulled herself together, she was right back at him stepping away from an embrace. They hadn’t touched even once since the night MacGregor showed up. He hadn’t kissed her, caressed her, held her hand…. He even took care not to sit next to her. She knew how adolescent it sounded, but she really wanted to die… And it wouldn’t be so hard to arrange, she thought, but now she was committed to this family Thanksgiving thing. The dying would have to wait… It didn’t make any difference, she was sure she was dying inside anyway.

Buffy walked out of the bathroom and saw Dawn completely wrapped in Spike’s arms as he swung her in circles like a child. Xander stood in the open doorway waiting for the merry-go-round to stop so he could bring in her bags.

“Spike, you really don’t hate me for how I treated you before.”

Spike nuzzled his face into her neck saying, “Grrrrrrr… I could never hate you, Bit! You’re my little sis.”

As he spun her around again, Dawn emitted shrieks of glee and laughed saying, “Stop! Stop it now! Put me down.”

Spike replied, “Never. This is too much fun.”

Xander went to stand next to Buffy who stood watching. “Quite a reunion, huh? This coming back from the dead thing seems to come with perks.”

Buffy didn’t answer, just looked at her friend, expressionless. Xander opened his eyes wide and said, “O--kay, is it cold in here?” He walked over to the fireplace and considered starting a fire… anything to get away from the chill that was blowing off of the Buffster.

Spike saw what Xander was doing, stopped playing, and said, “Here now, let a man help you with that.”

“When you find one let me know, I’ll be glad for the help.” Xander replied and ducked from the crack across the back of his head that he was sure was coming.

That left Dawn alone, trying to gain her balance after all the spinning. She spied Buffy and ran to embrace her sister. Buffy stiffly accepted the hug. Dawn pulled back, saw something in Buffy’s expression, and asked, “Where’s your room, I brought some goodies for you.” Buffy led her through the kitchen to the sweet old-fashioned bedroom. Dawn closed the door.

“Wasn’t exactly the welcome I was expecting, Buff. What’s going on?” She said leaning her back against the closed door.

~~~

Xander stared at Spike who looked back. “What?”

“Funny, that’s exactly what I was going to say. It’s friggin’ cold in here. I’ve never been Sensitiveman and even I can feel it.”

“What are you goin’ on about?” Spike asked.

“Cut the shit, Evil Dead. Don’t try to kid a kidder. What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin’ that’s any business of yours Harris.” Spike went out to the kitchen to bring in the snack trays that had been sent over for the impromptu Welcome party for Dawn and Xander followed close on his heels.

“I mean it Spike. There’s tension in the air here. This is the Chapel of Love; this is supposed to be a No-Tension Zone, so again I say, what’s goin’ on?”

Spike stopped what he was doing and studied Xander. Under the intense scrutiny, Xander became uncomfortable. “What? Is my fly open? Is there something in my teeth? What?” Then Xander saw a change come over Spike.

Spike turned to the coat tree and grabbed his duster and Xander’s jacket. As he rolled his duster over his shoulders he threw Xander’s jacket to him and said, “Let’s take a walk.”

A stunned Xander said, “But this is all so sudden, Spike. What will the others think?” giving him a rogue smile and wiggling his eyebrows.

To which Spike answered, “Just shut the fuck up and come on.”

“Wait, shouldn’t we…” Xander started to say as Spike grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the door.

The air was chill. Winter chill. It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago a light sweater would have been enough. Now there was even a crunch of frost under their footsteps. They went some distance before Spike spoke. “We have an unusual history, boy. You and me. Lots of feelings between us. Most of it pretty unfriendly.” The pace of the walk never slowed. Xander was able to see his breath billowing out before him. “I owe my life to you Harris.” No breath there.

That stopped him. “Now wait a minute Spike. Where are you going with this?”

Spike stopped too. He turned and looked Xander square in the eye and after a second, shook his head and said, “Shit!….can’t do this.”

Xander said, “Whoa, now you’ve got me wigged. It seems to me that after what we’ve been through over the last what? Five? Seven? Years? Not to mention what we’ve been through the last few weeks, it’s pretty clear that while we may not be bestest pals, but the hate thing is gone….at least on my side…Hell, I can’t see Buffy look at you and hate you anymore. Now let’s just get whatever the hell this is over with. What the fuck is wrong? Just tell me.”

Spike leaned against and reached into his pocket to pull out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. After lighting up, he considered Xander’s honest, open face. Xander was the closest thing to a friend he ever had, “Oh, what the fuck …I’m afraid, Harris.” Then a long pause in which Xander gave him no help…no lead lines. “This whole thing with the gnarvole demon has taken the spit and vinegar out of me. I’m healed well enough, but I don’t know if I want to put myself in harm’s way anymore. I believed I was immortal, and guess what? I’m found out I’m not.”

“Spike, you’re being too hard on yourself man. Geez, after what you went through, I’d think you were nuts if you weren’t a little skittish.”

“But that’s not all…..oh God, this is hard.”

“Look, Spike, just say it.”

“Right then, Buffy and I haven’t …been together…since the attack.”

“What’re you talking about? She hasn’t left your side”….Then the light went on. “Oh…..oh!”

“Buffy doesn’t understand.” He took a long drag from his cigarette, “Then again, I haven’t given her a chance to understand. I haven’t said a word, just been avoidin’ her.” He started to walk again and Xander followed. “I wait ‘til she goes to bed and then I sleep on the couch. Every time I see her, I want her.” Spike saw the look on Xander’s face, threw his hands in the air and said, “You don’t want to hear this stuff. Ah…nevermind. Let’s go back.”

“Oh no, you don’t. You came out here to say something. I’m no shrink, but if you don’t say it, it’s only gonna get worse, so spill.”

Spike yelled and the earth shook, “I don’t know if the equipment works anymore.”

Xander’s expression was blank. If he were really honest with Spike he would have told him that was the very thing he would have thought of after the attack. Shit, a guy can’t help but put himself in the same place as another guy with something like that. Finally, he said…”ah, so you… ah…haven’t taken it out for a spin, huh?”

Spike couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. He hung his head and said, “Oh, Little Spike stands up well enough… has to be talked down a lot of the time.” He smiled, “I’m living in the same house with Buffy, Harris. Little Spikey stands up almost all the time and what’s worse, I know Buffy wants it too.

“Oh yeah, Spike the Stud! You know she wants you……riiiight!”

Deadpan, Spike answered, “Well, yeah, she wants me.”

“Spike.”

“You really are as stupid as you look, aren’t you? Women signal their needs too y’know?”

“Oooh, oooh, I know this,” Xander said jumping and raising his hand like a kid in school, “Pheromones!”

“Yeah, there’s that and more. They get wet…” Spike said matter-of fact.

“Oh, please…” Xander said incredulously, “you don’t know that without a peek… What? She leaks?”

“You pitiful git! I’m a bleedin’ vampire. I can smell her arousal.”

“Can I just say, Ew?” Xander screwed up his face and then smoothed. “Wait a minute…you can tell when a woman is turned on? I mean really. Not just doing that bitchy teasing thing?”

Spike gave Xander a satisfied smile, and drawled, “Yeah.”

Xander was quiet for a minute, took a deep breath as if to say something….paused and did the same thing again. Finally, he said, “So let me see if I’ve got all this straight. You live forever. You never age. You have a building fall on you and break every bone in your body and you heal in a couple of days. You know when a woman wants you and you can do the deed for hours on end without….um…suffering…um…shrinkage and slumpage. I got all that right?

Spike considered the question and answered, “Pretty much.”

“OK. The next time I say Bite me, just go ahead and do it,” and then added, “Hey, can you grow back an eye?”

“Listen whelp, I’m glad I could bring you up to speed on the sex life of vampires, and thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind, but can we get back to the matter at hand?” Spike asked.

“Right. Where were we?” He thought. “You and Buffy are both turned on. This is all of the good, right? Mind you, I prefer not to think about it, if you don’t mind… but here we are. So what comes next?” He covered his mouth and tried not to laugh at his pun.

Spike looked at him and quietly said, “You know? I think I’ll just bite you right now. I’d be doing the world a favor.” He just closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief and then he shouted, “Nobody comes next. There is no coming. There is only pfft.”

Xander’s eye popped and after a minute said, “Come again?” When Spike’s deep feral growl made the ground beneath their feet rumble, he said, “Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Giggling, he went on, “I couldn’t help it…Come on…Oh…I can’t stop!” Finally, Spike showed his true face and Xander settled down. It took a few minutes and many deep breaths, gulping and swallowed snickers.

As Xander brought himself under control, Spike figured it couldn’t hurt to hear any advice Watcher Wannabe might have and went on with his story. “This is how it goes. I’m all alone and I try to “take it out for a spin,” as you say …and my balls tighten up. I’m…um…all set to fire …and then I start shakin’ all over…well…I would if I could, and pfft.”

Xander listened and then said, “uh huh, uh huh…” nodding his head like a doctor, considering his patient’s symptoms. “There it is again, pfft, you say?” Every adolescent cell in his body wanted to burst out laughing again, but he knew if he did, he’d have to bid a final farewell to his head. Come on, Xander, get it together. “OK, then. Did you talk to the lady doctor about it?”

“Yeah…sort of. No, not exactly…Don’t think I didn’t try. I just don’t think she understood. I know she’s a doctor an’ all, but…she’s a woman…she can’t properly understand the relationship a bloke has with his bits, you know?”

After walking for another good distance with silence prevailing, Spike spoke. “It’s really all about Buffy.” He paused and gave Xander a questioning look. “Look, Xander, I know this is hard for you, but the sex between Buffy and me is good, yeah? Fantastic. Earth shattering.”

“OK, OK, I get it. Get on with whatever point you’re trying to make. This is getting too weird.”

“What if I try and that’s all over? What if I can’t shatter her world anymore?”

At this Xander’s eye nearly bulged out of his head. “You’re a damn fool, you know that? How can you… Arrrgh…Are you really so fucking stupid that you think all you are is her sexbot? …Damn… just when I thought I was going to be able to stand you….You stupid…. Fucking… jerk!” Xander had clearly lost control. He turned to Spike and shoved him with both hands, never stopping his rant, calling Spike all manner of foul, rude names to tell him what a loser he was. Spike backed up from the shove, never raising a hand and Xander kept on…shoving and pushing until Spike lost his footing and fell flat on his ass.

Through all this Spike was saying, “Have you gone completely off your nutter? Think about what you’re doing, Harris! Dangerous stuff, here…GET your bloody hands off me!” Spike never lifted a finger in retaliation.

Xander stood over him and pointed his finger and said, “Now listen to me, you dead ass, stupid fuck, Buffy loves you. She loves you to hell and back. You are her morning and her night and all the minutes in between. After you went up in smoke, she only existed. I love her more than you’d ever care to know, and if I find out you bring one more moment of hurt to her, I will stake your worthless ass, soul and all. Do you really think that all she cares about is your …what do you call ‘em? your dangly bits? Shame, shame on you. Now get up. We’ve got to get back.” He reached out a hand to help Spike. After a moment, Spike took it, stood, and brushed himself off.

They walked back in silence. There was nothing more to say. Xander was right and Spike knew it. Of course, he couldn’t help but be a little amused at Xander being all ‘Jack the Giant Killer.’ The smell of fear cascading off of him the whole time he was giving Spike ‘what for’ was driving the demon mad, but the soul and the man in Spike could only smile.

~~~

Back at the cottage, Giles opened the door, “Ah, there you are. Dawn and Buffy are apparently having a sister moment. I expect they’ll be out in a minute. In the meantime, Buffy’s put out some snacks for us. Leah and I are having a glass of wine. Interested?”

Spike raised one eyebrow, “Excuse me, mate, when did you become lord of the manor?”

Without skipping a beat and chewing on a piece of cheese and cracker Giles answered, “When I ordered the tray be sent over.”

Spike replied, “Ah…yes…right then, I’ll have the red. Ta.”

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.

Title: Goodbye, Mr. Giles
Author: Aamah
Pairing: S/B
Rating by chapter: Chapter 33
Genre: Post NFA ~ General

Undying thanks to betas, nightshift and cloviss. They compliment one another perfectly, and their comments are like chocolate.

Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
No copyright infringement intended.
Original characters are mine.

Chapter 33 ~ Old Times, Old Friends, Old Problems ... with a twist

Meanwhile, back at the lair ...

If the boys were looking for a show when they sent Flavin in to talk to Binne, they were sorely disappointed. Even if he did want to rip the tosser’s head off just for existin’, he wasn’t going to give the lot of them the satisfaction. There was too much to think about now. If the others saw him angry, they’d figure they were on to somethin’. It was obvious that they had no clue that there was no new pack of vamps. Binne ran his hand over his unshaven face, dragging the loose skin from side to side as he pondered what he suspected was a bigger problem. What about this slayer? How to handle this situation? As far as he knew, the slayer was a myth. His sire, his only companion for most of his vampire life, had only mentioned the slayer once. She’d never seen the slayer either. So why was his skin crawlin’? He needed to get the others talkin’ to find out what they knew … or thought they knew and then … he would have a look at that bint stayin’ in the cottage.

~~~

“So,” Dawn said, carrying one of her suitcases to the parlor, “it’s always nice to get prezzies, and you all know how pitifully penniless I am.”

Dawn directed her smarmy tone to Buffy who interrupted with, “Pitifully penniless? Please! Perhaps proper penance for poor performance is a prerequisite to pack puny pockets!”

Everyone at the table roared! Spike put his arm around Buffy and pulled her close, “… and all this time I thought your American education sucked!”

“Wow Buff, practically perfect!” said Xander, wishing he knew more P words.

Giles smiled and raised an eyebrow as he said, “Buffy … have you been reading again? You know I’ve warned you about that!”

“Awww, now be nice, Giles,” said Buffy.

Dawn gained control of the conversation again, “Yeah, yeah, so the older sister bested the college student! La de fu … um … da …. Oops, boy, that was a close one! … OK, so I’ll get on with the gifts. Xander?”

“M’lady.”

“Really? That’s nice! I know you’ve been away from home and there’s some things you just can’t get over here that you wish were a part of your life.”

Spike interjected, “Women? No worries. None here, none there either!” Buffy elbowed Spike.

“Ow! What was that for?” Spike asked.

Buffy just gave him the look!

Xander shot in with, “Hey, I do alright with the ladies … I’ve just had a dry spell.”

Leah was having trouble keeping up with the constant banter that never seemed to get anywhere. She loved the laughter though.

Once again, Dawn called for order. “Xander, I brought you two things, a box of Fruit Loops and a box of Cap’n Crunch! I know it’s not much, but well … the sentiment is there.”

“Not much? Do you know what it would cost me to get this here? A friggin’ King’s ransom, that’s what. I guess you can get them someplace over here, but not in this little burg. Thanks, Dawnie.” He wrapped her in the big brother hug that she always loved.

“Giles, you are not easy. I realized that when you were living in America you did all you could to bring the UK to you, and spent a small fortune at import stores. I don’t recall there was much on our side of the pond that tickled you, but I did remember that there were some things that were precious to you, and you lost them. I can’t begin to make up for all that loss, but it’s a start anyway. I was able to find pretty good copies of Black Sabbath’s first and second albums, Black Sabbath and Paranoid, and one from Vanilla Fudge … it’s a little scratchy, but playable.”

Giles jaw dropped open. “Oh no, Dawn … this is too much. They must have cost you a fortune.” he said as he caressed each album.

“Not so much, really. I’ve got friends who have friends, if you know what I mean?” Dawn was obviously pleased.

“Looks like you’ve scored a goal, Bit.” Spike said.

She gloated a little, “Yeah, huh?”

Leah asked, “These old recordings are important to you, Rupert? I never would have guessed. We’ll have to take a trip to my Dad’s place; he has a roomful of those old things.”

Everyone in the room looked stunned. Giles choked out, “Really … yes, … um … we’ll just do that.”

Buffy, returning to her role as hostess, asked if anyone needed a refill on coffee or tea and Spike offered spirits for the coffee if anyone wished, and offered to help Buffy in the kitchen if she liked.

“NO!” … Xander shouted “we’d like to have our drinks refilled sometime in this century. The last time you two went to the kitchen we had time to read the Compleat Works of Shakespeare that we found on the shelf while we waited.”

Buffy turned a most flattering shade of pink as Spike preened. Then she begged everyone to eat more of the delicious desserts. She certainly didn’t want them lying around. They commented that she could use a few pounds but that the color had returned to her face--for some strange reason, and again the group enjoyed a laugh.

“Now, Spike,” Dawn continued, “I’m not sure about this gift.”

“Here now, Bit, I have all I want right here,” as he reached for Buffy’s hand.

“Yeah, I know, but this isn’t really from me.” Puzzled expressions met her comment. “When Faith heard that you weren’t dust and that I was coming over here for Thanksgiving she called me and asked me to bring something to you. She shipped it to me UPS and I got it the day before my flight. I didn’t even unwrap it.”

Buffy interjected, “Why would Faith send you something?” Her face took on a jealous cast, “Is there something I should know?”

Spike countered with, “Oh, you didn’t know about Faith and me?” With lightning speed, she went straight for his nose. Nobody saw it coming. “I was kidding. I was kidding … bollocks … why is it always my dose?”

Buffy handed him some napkins and said, “That’s not the sort of thing you kid about. I’m a little possessive, OK. Anybody got a problem with that?” she asked as she glanced around the table and was met by a chorus of heads shaking in the negative.

Spike unwrapped the package sincerely hoping that it wasn’t something that would cause more trouble. He had had a century and a half doing things that would piss Buffy off, and a lot of them were things that might set her off again. He wasn’t sure his nose could take another poke just now. Tucked inside the brown wrapper was a note in Faith’s scrawl.

Spike

Glad you’re back although I can’t figure out how you did it. We finally got the safe opened at the Hyperion and this box was in it. It was locked and belonged to Angel. I guess that makes it yours now. I sure as hell hope it wasn’t Pandora’s before Angel got it. Ha ha.

See ya, F
Oh, say hey to B

As soon as he read the words, he remembered the box. Why shouldn’t he? He traveled across continents with it strapped to his back. God forbid the great poof should carry anything when he had a nice strong lackey like him to do it for him. He even remembered some of the things it held. Well, it had been a fun evening so far, … this was definitely going to be a downer … no, he thought, this is going to be a wake. He closed his eyes for a second to compose himself. It was only right. Angel deserved a wake.

He passed the note around for all to read. As each one read it, the mood in the room became more somber. Spike reverently removed the paper. Revealed was a long, narrow, intricately carved wooden box with a sheen that only comes from hand rubbing. It looked priceless.

Giles, the librarian, the historian, the archivist was _ practically drooling over the box. He was beside himself at the thought of its contents; perhaps a journal, personal artifacts, memorabilia. Just what sort of things would the Scourge of Europe consider worth keeping? Things from his family? His times? His victims?

Buffy feared there was something about her in it and then quickly got over herself. In a lifetime over two hundred years she was just a blip. Still, she and Spike were finally in a good place that promised to get better as the night wore on. She hoped there wasn’t anything there that would cast even a moment’s doubt in Spike’s mind.

Xander hated Angel. He had always hated Angel and the fact that he was gone now didn’t change that one bit. He knew the others were thinking of him as some sort of hero now, and if he were entirely honest with himself (which he didn’t have to be if he didn’t want to, after all, this was a conversation in his own head. If he couldn’t lie to himself…) well anyway, if he were honest with himself, he’d admit that the guy did try, but only once he had a soul forced on him, not because he wanted to be good … but he did try.

Dawn never really knew Angel. Well, she did because the memories were implanted, but not really. Not really. She remembered thinking her sister was in love with this hot guy who was like older than their Dad and that was just gross. Then she remembered her sister’s broken heart. No, there was no love lost when Angel relocated. The couple of times he did show up it was too little too late. But I’m a grown up now and I can keep my thoughts to myself.

Leah found herself once again caught up in Council affairs, and tonight she thought she was just here as Giles’ date. She knew well enough that getting involved with him meant renewing her alliance with the Council. It wasn’t something with which she was comfortable ... for a lot of reasons.

Spike ran his hands over the carvings lovingly. Odd, that. After all those years of butting heads with the old pillock, here he was feeling emotional about the only thing left of him. The others watched and waited. Finally he said, “So then, it’s locked, eh? Well, I can fix that,” and reached over the table and grabbed a knife.

“NO!” cried Giles. “Have you gone daft? It’s a priceless antique … priceless.” He cleared his throat, calmed himself, and went on, “Really, Spike … you can’t be thinking of forcing it open … if for no other reason than that it’s a beautiful artifact. Not to mention its inherent value of having belonged to a VAMPIRE, now dust. Surely, there must be a way to open it without damaging it. You must recall Angel opening it one time or another in your time with him. What did he do? Did he have a key? Is there a trick?”

Spike considered Giles words carefully and picked up the knife again.

“NO!” Giles said as he stood and made as if to take the box away from Spike.

Spike arched one eyebrow and said, “Only puttin’ you on.”

A deflated Giles sat down. “Spike, will you never grow up?”

“Seriously, Watcher, your arguments are valid, but did you ever consider that this box belonged to Angelus and perhaps Angel had it locked away for a reason?”

“Oh…” said Giles, obviously turning the idea over in his mind. Glancing down he noticed that he was rubbing the fingers that had never healed properly after Angelus’ torture. “Yes, of course, you’re quite right, Spike.”

Spike nodded his head. “Look mates, this is my legacy and I remember it well. It’s no Pandora’s box as Faith feared. It’s pretty an’ all and it does, or at least it did once, contain things that had sentimental value for Angel … Angelus …” he shrugged and repeated the word, “sentimental … in conjunction with Angelus … now that’s a lark.”

Buffy chimed in, “So it’s harmless then? Right?”

“I didn’t say that, pet,” Spike said squeezing her hand. “Nothing about Angelus was ever harmless. You can bet your last farthing on that.”

Giles smiled in agreement. It had nothing to do with amusement. “Buffy? Is there more wine? Instead of more tea, I think I’d fancy a bit more wine.” He got up from the table and made his way to the large comfortable chair. The others took it to indicate that the dessert portion of the evening was over and rose to join him.

Buffy laughed, “There’s plenty of wine, Giles. You’ve been sending us not less than two bottles a day. Besides, Leah asked that Spike lay off the alcohol while he was recuperating …” Her voice trailed off.

The ladies helped clear the table leaving the box where it was. Spike went to the kitchen, got a bottle of white out of the fridge, and grabbed a red from the cabinet in the dining area. He handed them to Giles to open while he went to collect fresh glasses. Xander stoked the fire and put on a fresh log. It seemed this evening was not winding down as everyone originally thought. Once everyone was settled again and comfortably sated with sweets, stimulants and wine, Giles took the floor, “I’ve been considering our dilemma and have a sort of a plan that I’d like offer for consideration.”

Xander piped in with “Here, here!” They all looked at him. “What? … He sounded like he was taking the podium in Congress … or … or Parliament. It sounded OK in my head.”

Giles closed his eyes, took off his glasses as he reached in his pocket for his handkerchief, deeply sighed and said, “as I was saying, the box belongs to Spike. It is his to do with as he pleases…” Spike gestured as though he wished to speak. Giles raised his hand; “I’m not finished.” He looked around the room. “May I go on?”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, get on with it already,” Spike said.

“Very well, then, jumping ahead to my point.”

“Oh, do! Please!” again, Spike spoke.

Giles placed his freshly polished glasses back on and hurried, realizing he sufficiently tried everyone’s patience, “Let’s contact Willow and ask her to call the Coven. Perhaps one of them can come here and check the box for spells, or put some sort of protection spell on it lest it contain something of a harmful nature,” he concluded, looking quite pleased with himself.

The rest all looked at Xander. Spike said, “Now, Harris!”

Xander looked confused then smiled at the dawning, “Ah … Here, here!”

~~~

The welcome visit lasted longer than anyone expected and by the time the guests left, everyone was feeling rather merry. Spike and Buffy, playing host and hostess, helped everyone with their coats, sent them away with small bags of leftover goodies for a late night snack, and agreed to meet again tomorrow for the Thanksgiving feast. They settled upon two as a reasonable time for dinner with guests expected around one for appetizers and drinks.

The lovers stood in the doorway holding hands as they bid farewell to their friends, watching as they faded into the night on route to their cars. Buffy shivered, lingering in the evening chill. Take-charge Spike guided Buffy inside and closed the door. Buffy stepped away. Spike held tightly to her hand and pulled her back to him. Buffy was more than willing. The yummy sound she made got a growl in response from Spike. Their lips met in a sweet, perfect kiss. Spike pulled away first and whispered into her hair, “Are we really going to be able to put this latest nightmare behind us, Buffy?” Buffy started to speak but Spike put his finger to her lips. “I know you say you forgive me but I was such a dolt. I knew how much I was hurting you. How do you forgive that?”

The silence that followed seemed endless, finally Buffy spoke, “During the last days of Sunnydale, I was so alone. Everyone around me was against me. Everyone except you. It was no surprise that Xander was against me … Kennedy had Willow’s ear and it was obvious to everyone that she had no use for me. It felt like just a matter of time until Willow sided with her. Giles betrayed me and even Dawn refused to stand beside me.”

“Buffy…”

“No, let me go on. Only you, Spike.” Tears began to fill Buffy’s eyes. You loved me … the others said they loved me, but when things got rough, they weren’t there for me. Only you.” Buffy took a deep breath and led Spike over to the table where they each took a chair. She never let go of his hand, never let her gaze stray from his eyes. “With everything that was on my mind … you know, trying to save the world and all?” She laughed. “I kept having flashes of other times with you, not of the good times, but of the times when I was so horrible to you. Saying you were a thing, a disgusting thing. Calling you nothing. Sneering at you, hitting you, beating you … using you. I wondered when you would turn against me too. You had every right.” Buffy lifted his hand to her lips and kissed it, held it close to her cheek. “But you didn’t walk away. You said you loved me, and you stayed by me and comforted me and held me and believed in me.” She took his face in her hands, heavy tears now streaming down her face and said, “Spike, you died for me.” Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck and slid from her chair onto his lap. They stayed like that, neither speaking until Buffy broke the silence, “My point, my love, is that I ask myself every day how can you ever forgive me?”

Spike tried to speak, and again was hushed. “Yes, you hurt me, but I doubted you … and for that I am so ashamed. I’m the one who needs forgiveness, Spike. Not you.”

The couple sat together in the silence of the cottage, enveloped in each other’s arms as they each considered their journey thus far. After a time, the weight pressing on them lifted as they turned their thoughts to the journey ahead. Spike stood and brought Buffy with him and drew her into a lingering kiss. Spike's hands roamed, hesitant at first, then remembering every glorious inch, became emboldened as the kiss deepened. He wrapped his hands over her bottom and grabbed her thighs as she entwined herself around him. Buffy’s hands reached between him to hold the raging erection that was pressing into her when suddenly Spike pulled away, “Mm … no! Not like this.” There was panic in his voice. Buffy looked hurt.

Spike saw her confusion immediately and sought to relieve it. “No luv, it’s OK.” Then continued after a pause, “I’m just a little scared and I want it to be right. Maybe if we go slow?”

Relief filled Buffy’s eyes, she smiled and said, “Yes, I understand,” while she rearranged her clothing and segued to a different subject, “Besides, there’s some washing up to do before we go to bed.”

Gratified, Spike said, “I’m gonna step outside for a cigarette, luv. I’ll only be a minute and then I’ll give you a hand.”

Buffy grinned and took a deep breath, “Don’t be too long.” She kissed him gently, “I need you near me.”

Spike grabbed his duster and had a cigarette to his lips before he stepped out of the door, “I’m always near you, luv.”

~~~
Spike stood outside the door and took a deep breath, taking in all the evening smells. First and foremost, he was a hunter and his senses were alert to any prey. Nothing unfriendly, but then he was in a good mood, so it would take a serious threat to alert him just now. Buffy filled his senses. All the girly things she thinks she needs to be more beautiful. He knew she didn’t need anything, but there would be no convincing her of that, not his Valley girl. That was OK. He still knew her essence … and just now? He sensed her need … he breathed in again and reached down to adjust the tightness in his jeans.

Taking his lighter from his pocket, he flicked it open and took a deep drag to light the cigarette that had been dangling from his lips since he’d left the cottage. He decided to take a brief walk and think while he smoked. First he’d do a reconnaissance around the cottage and then settle for a few minutes on a felled log a few yards behind the cottage that he’d found on another evening. It gave him full view into all the windows at the back of the house. He would enjoy his smoke while watching his girl as she puttered around the cottage.

Spike made himself comfortable on the old log and let his mind wander. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched Buffy put the cottage back in order. He’d never admit it to Xander and definitely never tell Buffy, but his talk with Xander had helped him clear his mind. Everything Xander had said was true. Buffy loved him. He considered her reaction when he had finally found the courage to go to her in the kitchen. She leaned against me and said she didn’t know why I should be asking for forgiveness … I nearly lost my stones and ran. I don’t know what the next few hours will bring. I’m still scared to death, but I can’t close her out anymore. Christ, I bloody near lost her.
Suddenly, something distracted him. A sound? A scent? Just a gut feeling? All thought of Buffy fled, except the need to protect her. Spike sharpened his senses, alert to everything surrounding him. Whatever it was, it stopped … or was catalogued in some inner file cabinet under … not a threat. Still, he needed to see for himself and decided to take another walk around the cottage. As he came round the building, he caught sight of a long shadow and held back. There were no street lamps here and the moon wasn’t high enough to be casting shadows yet. He was not alone. Not human. He detected no human heartbeat other than Buffy’s nearby. Leaning his back against the cottage he glanced around to the front and saw a large lantern set on the path and a man coming toward him. Shifting to his true face to improve his night vision, he relaxed when he saw who it was. MacGregor.

“I thought it would be you,” MacGregor said in the thick Scotch burr, “but I decided it needed checkin’ anyway. How’re you doin’ man?”

“Fine,” was all that Spike answered. He feared if he said more, it would give away his alarm.

MacGregor nodded his head in his old country teacher manner, and answered, “That’s fine then, I’m just doin’ the rounds and always take an extra turn up here. Just to be on the safe side, y’know.”

“It’s appreciated,” Spike answered.

“Well then, I’ll be on my way. Tomorrow’s your big American holiday, eh?”

“Yeah, it’s a nice concept, Thanksgiving … for some. Awkward for us though. Funny when you think the whole thing came about because the English were such an oppressive lot.” Spike said.

“Yes, funny that.” MacGregor tipped his hat and went on his way.

Spike flicked his butt out to the grass, creating a tiny fireworks display, and went inside. Each sensing the other, neither of them sensed the other predator lurking behind the cottage.
~~~

X-posted: captured_kiss, spike_fics, spuffy_fics

Chapter 34 ~ Thoughts, A Penny’s Worth

Buffy was concerned that they might not be up in time to start the turkey. Since that was her only responsibility as far as the meal was concerned, it weighed heavily on her mind. With no alarm clock in the cottage, she remembered that the radio had been a great alarm on the first morning with Spike. Before she prepared for bed, she crept out to the little parlor and turned on the radio, volume full up. The station had gone off the air so it was a gamble, but it was better than nothing.
~~
After leaving the cottage that night, Giles was anxious to return to his office to begin research on the box. Originally, he had hoped that Leah might invite him in for a nightcap. It had been a long time since he’d had a romantic encounter with a woman. He was sure Leah was sending signals that she might be pondering an encounter herself. Not tonight, he thought.
~~
The drive over to the dorm was so short, that Xander suggested that they walk over instead. He planned to drive Dawn around the campus during the day when she could appreciate its charm. Honestly? Tonight he’d like to have a little alone time with her. Old friends, after all. She was the sister he never had…she was…Dawn. He wouldn’t admit to her, or anyone for that matter, that he was lonely. He knew he was an adult and life had moved on. Still, to connect with someone who was so much a part of his life for so long made him … warm. Yeah. Of course, this line of thinking led him to admit he even had warm feelings for Spike. What? No…no-ho no warmness for the dead thing. Friends … Spike was a friend now. Right! That’s it. Friends. Just friends. OK, where was I? Oh yeah, Dawn was a grown up too. Oh yeah, definitely grown up.
~~
Dawn pondered, it was funny being here with Xander. He acted all cute when he offered to drive me to the dorm and then decided to walk. Oh yeah … a chance to talk…. Right. Is he serious? I saw the way he looked at me tonight, and the concept of little sister never crossed his mind. I can remember when I thought he was the hottest thing on the planet … but then I was the only one noticing the hotness. I’m thinking he’s noticing now and I have no clue how to act. I don’t know what to think about him. After he dissed me for the bodacious Cordelia and demon Anya, I stopped thinking of him … at all … and now here we are … both totally adult. The eye patch is cool. Except he really has no eye, and I don’t know if I’m enough of an adult to deal with that? He has a whole new grown up body now too. He was always pretty buff … but then, (giggle) so am I. He’s clever and funny and a whole lot smarter than back then, but then, I always thought he was smart. It was just that nobody ever gave him a chance … same as me. I didn’t come over here looking for anything, but now … I’m thinking there may be possibilities. Too soon to go there though.
~~
Leah leaned against her door and kicked off her shoes. She needed to calm herself, take a few deep breaths, and gather her thoughts. In the kitchen she saw the two wine glasses on the tray and said, “Damn!” I was so sure that I would be able to have some time alone with Rupert, and now the sodding council is meddling in my life again. .I should have insisted on a professional relationship only. She sighed as she continued sharing her thoughts with the empty apartment. Nevertheless, he’s such a damn decent bloke. Behind his stuffed shirt there was this fun bad boy. I liked him then, dammit, and I like him now. She had the conversation with the furniture as she downed a couple of glasses of the expensive wine she had opened before he picked her up this evening. By now, with all the wine she had had at the cottage, and these two glasses, she was feeling very warm, very mellow, very horny and considerably annoyed that Angel’s box was the only one he was interested in. No point in letting the evening be a total loss. As the bathtub filled, she poured another glass of wine and removed her clothing piece by piece as she made her way to the bathroom with several candles and some matches. She’d just have to do the best she could to please herself without a man. With a wicked smile, she turned on soft music and went to fill the tub. .
~~
Xander and Dawn walked along the lighted footpath. They’d only just left the cottage and apparently, they’d already run out of things to talk about. Awkward much? thought Dawn.

They turned out of the parking lot and were met by one of the guards patrolling the campus. Xander recognized him immediately and said, “Hi MacGregor.”

“Good evening, Mr. Harris. Odd for you to be out and about this time of night. Anything I should know about?” he said, his accent as thick as ever.

Xander replied, “No, no. Um … this is Buffy’s sister, visiting for the American holiday.” Deciding to be formal, he turned to Dawn and said, “Dawn, this is MacGregor. One of the school’s guards … um … he helps with other stuff too. MacGregor, this is Miss Dawn Summers, Buffy’s sister.”

Dawn and MacGregor smiled at one another and shook hands. Nothing in her demeanor gave away that she knew immediately he was a vampire. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. MacGregor.”

“Oh no, miss. Just MacGregor will do.” They both laughed.

Xander said, “Sorry, I probably should have said that in the intro. It’s kind of a thing with him.”

Think you might have left out something else too, Dawn thought. They must not want me to know for some reason. OK. I’ll play. “Fine. Just MacGregor, that’s quite an accent you have.” MacGregor looked gobsmacked. Dawn saw it immediately and said, “What? What have I done?”

MacGregor answered, “Oh, nothing, miss. It’s just that I’ve always been a bit sensitive about my speech. I’ve spent a lot of time and study trying to rid myself of it.”

Dawn’s eyebrows shot up, “Why? I love it. It’s great.”

Both MacGregor and Xander were taken aback. Xander because he couldn’t imagine anyone understanding MacGregor that easily. The way he heard the story, even other Scots struggled. MacGregor, well, even his own kin couldn’t understand him.

“Don’t look so surprised Xander. Languages are my speciality,.” Dawn said, bowing her head to MacGregor as she accentuated the English pronunciation of specialty.

Xander countered, curling his lip, “Hello? Demon languages. Scottish is different, but not demon!”

“Technically you’re right, but its derivation is ancient. So there.”

MacGregor watched the exchange and was fascinated, jealous even. This easy camaraderie was a wonderful thing.

Dawn went on, “I’ve brought some of my textbooks and notes with me, I’ll show ….you … Oh … oh no. We’ve forgotten my bags.” She turned on Xander, “What were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking? Wait just a darn minute there, missy …” Xander retorted.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. Well, we just have to walk back.” Dawn said, not relishing the idea. They were half way there already and she was tired.

MacGregor was trying to keep up with this conversation without words that seemed to take place between the two. “Perhaps I could help, Mr. Harris. I can continue to walk Miss Summers to the dormitory while you walk back to the cottage to fetch her luggage, get your car and drive over.”

Dawn said, “Now that sounds like a great idea. It’s silly for all of us to walk back and for us to just stand here waiting for you. Go on, Xander.”

Bursting with reasons why he didn’t like the idea, Xander, the adult, held his tongue. “Fine!” Bending over and dropping one shoulder, he said in a thick Germanic accent, “I’ll just be Miss Summers’ butt-monkey and fetch her bags.” He turned and headed back toward the cottage laughing maniacally.

Dawn just smiled and MacGregor looked confused. “Odd sort, Mr. Harris.”

“Not really. That’s kind of normal for Xander.”

MacGregor saw Dawn to the dorm, their conversation brisk and dotted with humor. She had no trouble understanding MacGregor at all, a fact that filled him with wonder.

~~~ Second thoughts ~~~

Buffy stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror and thought for a minute. It was insane. How many times had they been together? Hundreds? At least! Why am I so nervous? You’d think I was a virgin … as if … or a … newlywed. She watched her face as it started to glow red. Quickly, she splashed cold water on her face. She heard Spike come in from having his cigarette and she felt the pitter patter of her heartbeat pick up as it always had when he was near. What now? Is he going to go right into bed? Maybe he’ll have a drink. He knows where I am … probably thinks I’ll be a while. She wrinkled her forehead as she thought. Why would he think that? Does he think I’m primping for him? She laughed at herself. Maybe because I’m primping for him.
~~~
Spike closed the door and took off his duster, hung it on the coat rack and stood a moment, listening to the quiet. He learned a lot as he listened. Being a vampire had its advantages. Buffy had finished the washing up, and put all the chairs back in place. Warm moist air wafted from the bathroom. All the fragrances in the world could not mask what was on her mind … and she was nervous. Ha! She was nervous? Some wise bloke said women had it easy. All they had to do was be there. That tosser knew what he was talking about. Pressure. So, what do I do now? Sit here all quiet and wait for her to get into bed? Shit! I’m hopeless. It’s William all over again. OK. This is it, old man. Chin up. You can do this. To bed.
~~~~
Giles stopped by the Main Building to pick up some books from the library. The box, or more importantly, its contents, were the only thing on his mind. He had a niggling feeling that it might be another portent of evil. It seemed over the years, that each time they had a rendezvous with an apocalypse or other life-endangering event it had come to them quite by accident. He knew that, in reality, it came to them by design. He had never quite decided whose design. They were pawns in a game. The question was whose?
~~~
Leah, fresh from her bath, and well-satisfied, decided to forego her nightgown and slipped nude between her satin sheets . She sighed and thought who needs men anyway?

*~~~*

Lying awake, next to Buffy, Spike senses told him that soon it would be dawn, the beginning of a new day … but not yet … Now was that in-between time just before the first gray light of day. The air is fresh, unspoiled, damp, smelling of earth, birth and renewal. For generations, he knew this as a time of desperation as he ran daring the sun to catch him before he found refuge for another day. Not today though, now his senses were filled with warm skin smelling of sleep and clean sheets and a very different kind of desperation. Buffy curled next to him, her bum pressed against his middle warming his very core. He pulled her close. She was too thin. This whole episode had taken a terrible toll. He sighed. More guilt. Everyone was worried about him. Who was worrying about Buffy? She had carried the load for far too long. He was the one who was supposed to ease her burden. He paused, understanding that if he kept up this line of thinking he would soon be wrapping himself in a cloak of self-pity all over again. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He needed to put his mind somewhere else.

Buffy was stirring and aware that Spike was awake and beside her. With the effects of the chasm that had formed between them the past weeks, they had been timid and cautious the night before and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Spike breathed in Buffy’s erotic aroma. He was terrified, but putting this off wasn’t going to help one bit. His greatest fear was that he would experience sudden pain, like when the chip went off … only this time in his bits. He remembered screaming like a girl when the chip fired. It wasn’t a happy memory, and he shuddered to think what Buffy’s reaction would be if he screamed like that when he came. Well, he thought, face your fear to conquer it.

A sleepy slayer murmured, “Hello,” as she wiggled her bottom against him and then began a slow turn to face him.

“Hello yourself,” Spike replied, his voice throaty, thick in anticipation. Little Spike was standing tall and at the ready. Standing tall was as far as Little Spike had gotten since the accident. One thing certain, when he finally did let ‘er rip it was likely to be something neither one of them would ever forget. He hadn’t gone this long without a wank since before he was turned. He knew he was a Mama’s boy, but what Mama didn’t know didn’t hurt her. He just didn’t want to fail Buffy.

“How’re you feeling this morning?” Buffy asked.

He nestled her neck and said, “Randy.”

“That was so the right answer. You get a cookie” she purred as she reached around and raised her hand to the back of his neck to pull him into a deep, soulful kiss. “Mmmm, I’m in charge here, mister,” Buffy said as she climbed onto Spike, straddling him. She pressed herself into the very erect rock hard cock that was nestled against her soft curls. She knew he was worried. She intended to take care of everything.

Spike, for what might have been the first time in his life, was speechless. He reached up, tenderly caressed her breasts, and lifted his head to take one nipple in his mouth while teasing the other with his fingers. Buffy moaned, the sound thrilling him. He grabbed her bottom to pull her onto him. Buffy gasped, groaned and poised herself over his rigid cock. She wrapped her hand around his shaft and ran her thumb over the head to his favorite spot. Now it was Spike’s turn to moan. Buffy was wet, swollen and ready. She moistened it using her own juices and slowly slid down onto him.

Buffy’s eyes locked onto Spike’s and they began a slow, sweet, slippery dance. As he filled her, she threw her head back and uttered unintelligible sounds. As slowly as she could stand, she slid up and down; taking him in completely as Spike’s hip rose and fell in the rhythm that she set. Driven with passion, Buffy squeezed hard with her vaginal muscles.

“Oh no, Buffy. Don’t! Don’t do that.” Spike’s eyes flew open, desperate.

“What? Am I hurting you?” she said, dragged out of her rapture.

“No! It’s just …”

All Buffy did was move the slightest bit and Spike cried out, with sucking breaths in between each expletive, “Fuck! Yes! Oh, fuck. Oh, I’m sorry. Oh, I couldn’t wait. Oh God. Buffy.”

For a split second, Buffy was terrified, and then as she felt his fluids seep from her, she realized Spike wasn’t broken at all. “Sorry?” she said. They looked at each other and laughed. She fell into his arms. He rolled her over and burrowed himself between her legs and told her he loved her again and again, covering her with kisses until he was hard again. She spread her legs and took his hand to slide his fingers over her slick opening. She moaned at the contact. His cold fingers just touching her hot, hard, aching clit brought her off and she cried out as she throbbed. Fingers of electricity stroked up and down her legs leaving them limp. He felt the strength of her orgasm around his fingers as they swam in her comings.

“Oh Buffy, my precious pet, can you ever forgive me?” he said as his fingers spread her outer lips and slid up and down her inner lips, his finger reaching under the little hood that covered her clit. “Hot, sweet pussy, once more like that luv and I’m done.”

Spike had finally known his sweet release. There had been no pain, only the thrill, the completion and then peace.

He took her face in his hands, and saw there were tears. When their eyes met, he pulled her to him and kissed her tears. “Oh, pet, baby, love, I’m so sorry,” he said.

A puzzled expression came across her face, “Sorry?” she giggled, confusing Spike. “Sorry? ...For the world’s most spectacular orgasm? I don’t think so. You silly, silly man, these are tears of glee, of relief, of delight. Spike,” she said slowly, tenderly, “these are tears of joy. Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? You’re all right. You’re well. We’re going to be fine … and … and I love you so much.”

He caught her in a bear hug that would have killed any other woman. Who said they weren’t meant for each other? “Breathing …” she squeaked, “Need to be breathing … Now!” He eased up his hold and they laughed. Their laughter turned into more kisses, sweet loving, adoring kisses and it was Buffy who suggested that they call the others and cancel Thanksgiving.

Spike smiled in agreement, “We’re in England. What have we got to be thankful for?” He no sooner said it than he stopped cold and their eyes met. As one their mouths met in passion. His hands caressed both breasts and teased her nipples. As they hardened under his attention, Buffy moaned. Spike filled his mouth with one pert breast then the other and said, “You gonna call or shall I?” when the chimes of Big Ben thundered out from the radio.”

“Bloody hell,” Spike said, “Slayer, what have you done?”

She jumped from the bed, “It’s time to put the turkey in the oven,” she said innocently, “We don’t have an alarm clock. It was the only way I could think of to be sure to wake myself in time.” She busied herself running a brush through her hair and throwing on a pair of jeans and one of Spike’s tees.

He watched her every move adoringly, “What, no shirts of your own, you have to nick one of mine?”

She grinned , “I like the way they smell.”

Feeling every bit the domesticated man of the house, Spike said, “Can I help you?” without really wanting to help. He wanted to lie in this warm bed and wait for his woman to come back and pick up where they left off. There was time to be made up for.

Buffy came back over to the bed, climbed over Spike, and kissed him on his nose. “No, you beautiful man. You need to rest up, this won’t take me long and I’m coming right back,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “Besides, if what the kitchen sends today is anything like they’ve been sending, all I’ll have to do is turn on the oven and put the turkey in.”

Spike returned her kiss, trying to turn it into a deeper kiss. She was not to be diverted and so he finally said, “Don’t take too long,” and closed his eyes.

~~~

DI Arthur gave Carruthers a wake up call at 0630. They had a few errands to run before they began their interrogations today and he wanted to get an early start. Carruthers was his right hand man, and he could count on him for anything, but he was a slow starter in the mornings and was rarely, if ever, on time. Arthur had gotten to the point of lying about appointment times. The same way some people set their alarms ahead so they can use the snooze alarm and get extra forty winks. It rarely worked.

~~~

Buffy opened the door and found several baskets, one with a note attached. It explained the size of the turkey and how long it needed to be cooked and at what temperature. It was already brined and seasoned and aluminum foil was included to prevent the skin from becoming too dark. The rest of the “fixings” would be delivered around half one.

She opened the basket and found a lovely, largish turkey, all ready to go and in the right pan. She lifted it and found she had to struggle. It was heavier than she thought. “And I’m the slayer … who lifted this thing into the basket? Don’t want to meet him … or her in a dark alley.” She wasn’t going to let worries about her health spoil this day.

Spike got out of bed, freshened up, climbed back into bed, and listened to Buffy puttering around the kitchen. She was even singing … not one of her strong suits, but symptomatic of a mind at ease, and only slightly off key. He smiled and thought about what she was doing. He knew she cooked some in Sunnydale, but the kitchen there was very modern. This little kitchen, while being efficient, was designed and built in the 1940’s. He thought about the old gas ovens and how temperamental they could be and was overcome with a sense of impending doom.

No sooner did he have the thought than the little cottage shook with the force of the explosion. He ran to the kitchen and found Buffy on the floor, stunned but intact. Her face blackened and her hair singed. The little kitchen window had blown out but nothing was on fire. The force of the blast must have consumed the oxygen, preventing a fire.

Buffy looked up at Spike with tear filled eyes looking for all the world like a naughty six year old and said, “Oops.” It melted his heart.

Spike took a place on the floor beside her. He wanted very much to tell her how stupid she was and that he thought for sure she’d killed herself. Instead he draped his arm over her shoulder, pulled her close and in a quiet, tender voice, he said, “Are you alright? Nothing broken? Nothing bleeding?”

She nodded, “Mm hmm.”

He nodded in response, “Good. I’m glad you’re not hurt. Now, you know you did a very bad thing, right?”

Buffy replied, “Mm hmm.”

“Good.” Spike went on, “Have you learned anything?”

The answer came again, “Mm hmm. You’re not supposed to turn on the gas until you’re ready to light the oven.”

Buffy started to get up and found she hurt herself more than she thought and groaned, “You can stop talking to me like I’m a child anytime now.”

“And I will, as soon as you stop acting like one,” Spike replied. “It was a bloody stupid thing you did, Slayer. You might have been killed. Wouldn’t that just be a hell of a note after all we’ve been through, you go and blow yourself to bits? I’ve half a mind not to forgive you for this one.”

“You’re right about one part.” Buffy said.

“And that would be?”

“You’ve got half a mind,” she laughed aloud and bolted out of the kitchen.

He caught her at the door to the dining room where they both caught sight of the turkey. It had landed right in the middle of the dining room table. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.

Spike rolled his eyes and wrapped her in his arms. “OK, Slayer, now you admit you needed my help?”

“Yes,” she answered as she noticed his state of undress and said, “Maybe you should put some pants on, as much as I enjoy the view, there’s something icky about cooking a turkey in the nude.”

He looked down at himself. “Icky?”

~~~

The jangle of the telephone woke Giles at the point that his dream was about to be most satisfying. He let the damned thing ring while he reached for his glasses with one hand as he consoled his rapidly deflating erection with the other. “Pity,” was all he said. He grabbed the phone to end the infernal ringing and was determined to sound civil. “Yes.”

“Giles? Is that you? Did I wake you?”

“’s a matter of fact you did. Hello Willow.”

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry. It’s a workday. I called your office and got voicemail. I never imagined you’d be sleeping in on a workday.”

“Yes, thank you. Ordinarily, that would be true, but surely you know that today is Thanksgiving.”

“You don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, Giles, you’re British.”

However true that might be, the comment annoyed him. “You do if your American friends are visiting.”

“Riiiight. Well then, I have some news to report and I think it might be important,” adding quickly, “which is why I kept trying to find you instead of leaving a voicemail,” Willow went on in defense. If Giles wanted to be pissy, let him. She knew she was right.

Giles slid over and sat on the edge of the bed, now interested. So far, Willow had put in hours of work trying to learn something about Eamon Binnemon and it had all gone for naught. “Really, what have you learned?” He pulled on his boxers as he spoke and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on preparing himself for the story Willow would have to tell first. Dear girl, she found it so hard to get to the point. He heard her take a deep breath before starting and rolled his eyes.

“Well, …” and off she went, describing in painful detail how she’d hacked into all manner of highly secure sites, looking for birth records, addresses, friends, neighbors, co-workers … anything at all to do with Binnemon. She’d sent out countless emails and snail mail letters to anyone who seemed even marginally connected with the man. Nothing. Except some rather rude comments about her being a nosy- parker . “Finally…”

Thank God, thought Giles.

Willow said, “I was able to get into his employment records, which told me nothing. I swear, these documents are so annoying. Lots of blah, blah, blah and no substance. If an employee is an asshole, you ought to be able to say that … oh, I know, in nice words and all, but …”

Giles set his tea to steep. “Willow. The point, please.”

“Right.” Excitement bubbling in her voice, “This is the good part. The employee record had the names of the actual co-workers. Up ‘til now I’ve only been able to find out who worked the same shift. I mean, really. The London Postal Service? Huge! It would have taken me forever just to get through the ‘A’s.”

“Willow …”

“Oh, keep your shirt on,” she giggled. “Oops. All right. Once a year, or more often if warranted, a co-worker is allowed to enter comments in an employee’s record. It seems that Mr. Binnemon was not a nice man.”

Giles felt like his head would explode. He stirred the milk in his tea and sipped. “This is what you’ve been rambling on about? Willow, we know he’s not a nice man.”

Willow answered, sounding very smug, “Yes, but you don’t know that his co-workers, many of his co-workers, went on at length about how slippery he was. One questioned if his wife’s death was natural, and one suggested he dabbled in the dark arts.” She paused, waiting for Giles’ reaction.

When none came, she shouted into the phone, “Giles?”

“Yes, yes, Willow. I’m here. No need to shout.”

Clearly miffed, Willow said, “You might have said something, you know.”

Giles replied, “Yes, sorry. I was thinking.” He took a deep breath. “Do you really think this is relevant? So he’s a dabbler. So am I and lots of other people.”

Willow felt absolutely deflated. After so many dead ends, she finally thought she had something to offer. She wished she had gone to England when this whole thing got messy. She didn’t like being on the outside. Well, not outside, but definitely peripheral. “Giles, I think this is important. This may not be an ordinary vampire. He may have skills the others don’t. He’s already proved himself to be ‘smarter than the average bear’ with his whole drinky without a kill scheme.”

Giles interrupted, “Um … ‘smarter than the average bear?’”

“Oh, sorry. Pop culture reference. It just means smart,” said Willow.

“Ah!” said Giles.

“So, he could have all sorts of magical weapons to thwart your attempt at capturing or killing him, or even messing up his dandy little network. I just think you all need to be extra careful, y’know? I’m not there to take care of you.” Of course, she thought whether or not she watched a football game affected the outcome.

Willow’s voice was so sincere, Giles couldn’t help but smile and feel the warmth from over the sea. “Willow, I don’t quite know what to say. I’m ashamed at being so abrupt. You were quite right in contacting me as soon as you did. Things could break at any moment.”

“Oh Giles, I knew you weren’t really mad. So, listen, when you see the others, wish them a Happy Day for me. Oooh, I wish I was there.”

“Thanks Willow. I’ll pass along your message, and you and yours have a happy day too.” Pause. “Willow?”

“Yes Giles, I’m still here.”

“Please, never think that you aren’t still an important part of the team.” Giles took a deep breath, for his heart was heavy. “I miss you.”

“Thank you for that, Giles. It means a lot. Gotta go. Love to all,” and she was gone.
“Ta-ta for now,”Giles said to the now dead line. He turned off the phone and thought about their little lonely witch.
~~~

Chapter 35 ~ Interrogation

Thanksgiving dinner was over. Their chairs were pushed back and Buffy was take-charge gal. “OK, gentlemen, we’re proceeding with a time honored tradition here. Well, almost anyway…we’d like you to retire to the library…in this case the other side of the sofa….but no cigars…Spike will get you small tumblers of something appropriate…while we ladies clear the table and retire to the kitchen to talk about you.”

It took Dawn all of one beat to protest, “Oh-ho no! I did not travel to England to do dishes.”

“No dishes Dawnie. OK, not exactly true. We will clear the table, scrape the plates, and put leftovers away, but there will be no washing. Giles really hooked us up here. We just stack the dirty dishes back in the baskets and place them outside the door. Tomorrow morning, just like magic, the basket reappears with a scrumptious breakfast. You, my precious baby sister will be eating cafeteria food,” Buffy said, smiling the smile of a sarcastic older sis.

Xander jumped in, “Which is way above average and to make it even better, you’ll be taking your meal with Giles and me! What could be better?”

As Spike was about to bring the drinks into the others he passed behind Buffy and whispered into her ear, “Methinks Bit shouldn’t count on Giles for that breakfast. It looks like he might get lucky tonight.”

Buffy kept her smile frozen and poked at him with her elbow.

“Watch it, Slayer, I almost spilled the drinks!” Spike said as he did a quick step away from her.

In her inimitable fashion Dawn whined, “When am I gonna get lucky?” To which Spike raised an eyebrow … thought about saying something and then thought better of it. The rest just laughed and decided … wisely … to leave it at that!

Leah had half the table cleared by the time Buffy and Dawn started helping and the three made short work of the task. They readied the coffee and filled the teakettle. When the time came for dessert, Buffy would only have to turn them on. It was agreed that no one was in a hurry for dessert.

Just as the ladies finished in the kitchen and were drying their hands, there was a knock at the door. They all glanced around at one another. Their entire little group was here … except MacGregor and it was too early in the day for him.

Spike got up and went to the door. Detective Inspector Arthur and his sergeant stood in the doorway looking grim. Before Spike could say a word, Giles leapt up and went to the door, “DI Arthur, this is a surprise. Won’t you please come in?” He stepped back and led them into the room. “Please have a seat. I think you know everyone. We’ve only just finished dinner and are having an after dinner drink, can we offer you something?”

The inspector looked at his watch and saw that it was a little after four in the afternoon, looked at Carruthers who returned his glance but remained without expression. “I think that sounds like a capital idea,” he said.

Spike took over as host and said, “What’ll you have, mate?”

Arthur replied, “Whatever you’re having will be fine, thank you.”

“And you?” Spike asked the sergeant.

“Nothing for me, thank you.” Carruthers said, taking out his notebook and reflecting with amusement again how well his superior managed people. They were here to roust out a murderer and for all these people knew they were here to become friends.

Buffy followed Spike to the kitchen to get the drinks. She decided that she would give the sergeant a glass of ice water, at least. Spike noticed her troubled expression and said, “What is it, luv? You worried?”

“Well, duh! I may be a superhero and fight for truth and justice and the American way, but me and cops?… unmixy.”

“We’re in England, pet,” said Spike, enjoying her discomfort. For him, tangling with the law was his idea of fun.

She glared at him, “Shut! Up!” He couldn’t help but laugh and made his way to the other room with the drinks. As he passed the drinks to the new visitors, he said, “So, what brings the law to our humble home interrupting our holiday celebration?”

Giles glared at Spike. “Um … eh … I suspect the inspector may have some news about Chastity’s death.” He glanced at the inspector and finished, “Am I correct?”

“Straight to it then, I like that,” said Arthur. “Actually, we’re here with some questions.” He lied as he went on, saying, “We tried you at your office and were advised that you were here. I apologize if we’ve caused you too much inconvenience, but we’re closing in and anxious to get this wrapped up. It’s taken too long already.” He paused for effect and then continued. “This has been an unusual investigation for us. True, some cases are more difficult than others, but once we gather all the facts, the solution most commonly falls into place.” As he spoke, Carruthers opened his notebook and flipped to a scribbled page. He would only fill in blanks if DI Arthur asked.

“Let’s start with the school. We cannot find your mission statement.”

Giles looked startled, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Yes, that’s precisely it, you see. We don’t understand. Your students are of all ages, and to put it mildly, not particularly … scholarly.” Giles gestured as if to interrupt. The inspector stopped him. “No please, there is more. Some of your students are from wealthy homes and pay fees commensurate with similar institutions. Other students seem to pay no fees at all. I suppose that may be explained with the admission of some charity students. The problem, sir, is that your books do not balance.”

“May I speak, Inspector?” Giles said, using his most authoritative voice.

Spike cautioned, “Perhaps it is best to not to say anything just now, Rupert.” His tone was that of the cultured English person he once was, but his comment stemmed from a century of dealing with people on the seamier side of life. It was best to hold your tongue lest you say something incriminating. Giles may not realize it yet, but Spike was fairly certain that Giles was their number one suspect.

Taken somewhat by surprise, Arthur gave Spike his attention. The inspector was known for his keen eye and powers of observation. Very little ever got by him. Often, one glance was all he needed to sum up a person. In Spike he saw a remarkably handsome man, very well dressed in expensive casual slacks and a purple silk shirt open only at the collar. Black loafers, very posh, and no socks. He had longish curly hair with bleached tips. Arthur suspected that he was gentry … had been through a rebellious phase and now had come to his senses. The lack of socks supported that too. His soul was still rebellious but he dressed to please convention. He likely had a doting father with lots of cash he was careful not to disappoint. Perhaps Giles wasn't the fool he seemed to be. Maybe this fellow was his barrister.

"I'm sorry," said the inspector. "I don't believe we've met. I thought I'd gotten around to everyone on campus. I'm Detective Inspector David Arthur of Scotland Yard." He extended his hand.

Spike stood and reached to take his hand and knocked over one of the wineglasses, which ended the possibility of any handshake as he fumbled to pick up the broken glass. He apologized for being clumsy. "Oh, how embarrassing. I do apologize. How do you do, I’m William Sanger.”

The reaction of the others in the room, while silent … was varied. Buffy was amazed again at her quick thinking, handsome lover. Giles was grateful. Xander wondered who the hell this William Sanger was and what had he done with Spike. Dawn was wholeheartedly amused. College life wasn’t nearly as much fun as being with these people. Most people considered themselves lucky when they had an adventure a day. With them, it was an adventure a minute.

The detective smiled at Spike and went on with his interview while Spike and Buffy cleared the broken glass and wiped up the spilled wine. David Arthur was a particularly astute man. He recognized immediately that this person was more than he seemed. He was most affable and one could hardly help but be drawn to him, yet, there was definitely something off about him. “And what is your position here at the school, Mr. Sanger?” he asked.

Spike walked across the room to get himself a fresh glass, “I’m just a guest,” he answered. “I’m staying here with Mr. Giles’ ward,” he said, smiling at Buffy. “Well, she was his ward when she was younger, now she’s a grown, independent woman. She and I were … friends … in America. Mr. Giles told me of her visit and I made arrangements to see her.”

“I see,” said DI Arthur. “And she invited you to stay?”

“Yes,” Spike said simply as if daring the inspector to take issue with the arrangement.

Changing the subject, Arthur asked, “Just what is it you do then, Mr. Sanger?”

The air in the room stilled as all held their breath.

“I’m in antiquities,” Spike answered without skipping a beat. “Actually, my work is similar to yours except I deal more with things than people. I do investigative work connected with antiques.”

“For whom do you work?” asked Carruthers, pencil in hand and ready to write down the answer.

“I’m an independent contractor.”

“An independent contractor,” the inspector repeated. “Have you ever considered Police work?”

That one caught Spike by surprise. His first instinct was to tell this fellow to sod off. It was his dearest wish that this portion of the interview was ending when he said, “Actually, I don’t think the Crown can afford me,” he said as he gave the inspector his most charming smile.

The inspector nodded his head in understanding and said, “Well then, where were we?”

Sergeant Carruthers consulted his notebook and said, “You were talking about our concerns regarding the school.”

“Ah, yes,” Arthur said, “Mr. Giles, I believe then that the ball was in your court.”

Giles cleared his throat to speak and Spike interrupted again, “Giles. Think about this.”

“Thank you, William. I have thought of little else since this nightmare began. I must go on.”

Carruthers poised his pencil. The smile on his face reflected his certainty that they had their man and a confession was imminent,

Giles began, “Gentlemen, do you believe in God?”

Spike stood up abruptly and said, “Right then. That’s it for me, I’m out of here.”

As quickly as Spike stood, Carruthers stood and blocked the door announcing,” I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, sir.”

Spike’s eyes flew open in disbelief. “You …?” He spread his feet and assumed a defensive position. “Well then, I’d like to see you try.”

Buffy jumped up and took Spike’s hand, looked at him imploring him not to make a scene and said, “Let’s just sit down and let Giles handle this.”

He looked at her thinking she’d gone mad, tried desperately to have a conversation with is eyes, but it was clear that Buffy was having none of it. Didn’t she realize that if Giles intended to tell the truth of it then HE would become the prime suspect. Once again, here he was looking happiness in the eye and someone was going to poke a stick in it! Jaw twitching, he said, “Bloody hell. Fine, I’ll sit!” He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Whatever happened, he intended to hold onto Buffy for as long as possible.

Arthur was surprised by Mr. Sanger’s outburst. He hadn’t considered him a player in this drama. Now he had to rethink things. “So, Mr. Giles, we were interrupted. What was it you said?”

“Um, yes. I believe I asked if you believe in God. It will make explaining things to you so much easier if you believe in the Almighty.” Giles began his tale of good and evil, of vampires and demons, witches and warlocks, and spells and magicks. He spoke of a secret organization that existed to study all these things and in the case of vampires and demons, to eradicate them. Giles explained that the organization (he didn’t want to mention it by name) had existed for centuries, worldwide. It was enormously wealthy and had connections with the most powerful people in the world.

Arthur and Carruthers exchanged glances as they remembered being cautioned by headquarters to tread lightly where Mr. Giles was concerned. Evidently there was some truth to this fantasy.

Relaxing a little as he warmed to his story, Giles explained that they suffered a tragedy a short time ago, but like all great and noble institutions, even against all odds, it would carry on.

Giles paused in his tale and Buffy said, “Perhaps I should start the coffee and put the kettle on.”

Giles smiled, “Thank you, Buffy.”

Xander stood and offered to help. Spike intervened, posh accent gone, “Ta mate, I’ll be helping my lady.”

Giles watched them go, took a deep breath, smiled and said, “I suppose now I should tell you of the Vampire Slayer.” He informed them of the pivotal role she played in protecting the world from dangers it is not willing to admit exists.

Buffy called in, “My ears are ringing, are you talking about me?”

“Yes, Buffy, I’ve gotten to your part of the story.”

Dawn said, “It was nice Buffy, too bad you missed it.”

Giles lifted his hand to stop them from going any further. He understood how this group handled tension with humor, but he doubted that the Inspector would find their banter humorous.

“Do you mean to say that Miss Summers is a vampire slayer?” Inspector Arthur asked,
his voice hesitant.

“Yes,” Giles nodded, taking off his glasses for the first time since they started. He pulled his handkerchief from his vest pocket and polished them as he continued, “THE vampire slayer, actually. Technically, ALL the girls here are slayers.”

Carruthers asked where he might find the loo. Arthur sat quietly, worried that his sergeant excused himself because he was ill. He would never tell his assistant that being left alone in this room with these people was disturbing.

When all were seated again, Giles recapped the collapse of the Sunnydale Hellmouth and the spell that enabled all potential slayers to be activated.

“This school and two others like it were opened to provide a place for the hundreds of girls around the world to learn to deal with their powers.” Arthur’s skeptical expression was not wasted on Giles. “You see, the girls have superhuman strength and dexterity. Some of them have enhanced hearing and vision, but no more so than you might find in the normal population.” Giles knew they thought he was barmy, but he was determined to tell all. “They also have what we have come to call “slayer senses” that allow them to know when vampires are near. Not all the girls feel this the same way. Some describe tingles, some have abdominal cramping and some hear ringing in their ears.” He thought for a minute and then added, “Perhaps other manifestations as well that we haven’t heard of yet.” He glanced around the room, making eye contact with his friends. No one interrupted him or challenged anything he said. Sighing heavily, he went on, “So, yes, your questions about our school are well founded. We hoped to keep the true nature of the school from public knowledge. For centuries people have turned a blind eye to the existence of the paranormal. I sincerely doubt that humankind will ever give up their delusions. I expect it helps them to sleep better at night.” Giles paused, smiled and raised his glass to Spike as a gesture meant for him to please fill it…and quickly!

With a fresh drink in his hand, and refreshed, Giles moved on to specifics … telling of the existence of vampires and demons in this community as they only recently and most regrettably learned. He explained that they had an informer who gave them reliable information about the vampire responsible for Chastity’s death and they were closing in on him and expected to have the matter solved before the weekend.

Carruthers stopped several times in his note taking to squeeze his cramping fingers. He wore an astounded expression as he documented every word.

DI Arthur held his mouth tightly closed. He’d spent years perfecting a blank expression no matter what he heard. Today he couldn’t hide his expression of incredulity and at least once, his mouth fell open. He was certain this entire story was madness and he was in a room of very sick people. Still, there was no question Mr. Giles was sincere. It was clear he believed this lunacy with all his being and it appeared the rest of the gathering did too. What shocked Arthur most of all was that Leah Graham, a most respected physician and the local medical examiner sat next to Mr. Giles prompting him when he lost his train of thought.

DI Arthur’s first impulse was to instruct Carruthers to contact the precinct to send officers to keep this group under strict guard and then to get to hell out of there. Unfortunately, duty demanded otherwise. He directed his next question to the room, “Exactly whom do you suspect?” Giles gave the name of Eamon Binnemon, a vampire formerly a guard at the school.

Carruthers head shot up. “I beg your pardon. I’m trying to keep up. I must have misunderstood. It sounded like you said the school hired a vampire.”

Giles answered simply, “Yes, that’s right.” Carruthers looked to Arthur. His facial cast screaming, ‘Help!’ Arthur gestured to his sergeant to remain calm.

Giles told his story quickly. Confessing all they knew and their plan to solve the crime was a relief. When he began to explain that if they were successful, Binnemon would be dusted and there would be no further risk as the crime spree would likely end with his elimination, Carruthers looked up from his notepad, clearly shaken, “I’m sorry sir, did I understand you to say you are planning to eliminate someone?”

The Inspector feared Carruthers was losing control and might even bolt. He had to take control. “Thank you, sergeant, I’ll take it from here. Mr. Giles, are saying that you and your band of … (he wanted so much to say weirdoes) friends intend to commit murder?” the inspector asked as calmly as he could manage.

“What?” Giles shouted, flustered. “Good Lord, no! Where did you get an idea like that? Have you heard nothing I said, man?”

Arthur’s tone rose in response to Giles’ comment, “Eliminate? You did say you intended to eliminate someone. I may not be up with all the current jargon, but in my book that means you have murder in mind.”

Spike held his tongue as long as he could. Quietly, he said, “Dust…he said dust. Giles said Binnemon would be dusted.” He adjusted Buffy on his lap and said, “It’s what happens to …um, it’s what happens to vampires when you off ‘em.”

“Ah, yes, vampires …,” the inspector said, sarcasm dripping. Better to show sarcasm than fear.

Buffy didn’t like that. Giles seemed to be the center of this investigation, and she had no intention of letting him go down alone. “Vampires are dead already, so eliminating them isn’t killing. It’s just correcting the natural order of things. When you kill a vampire, they burst into dust, presumably because if they had been permitted to decay their bodies would have turned to dust. So, you see, inspector, when you kill a vampire, you don’t leave any evidence … there is no corpus decaprio.”

She heard titters, but no one had the courage to correct her faux pas.

“No evidence … That’s very interesting. Thank you for clearing that up, Miss Summers.” The inspector stood up placing his glass on the table and said, “I’ve heard enough for today.” Sergeant Carruthers flipped his notebook shut and stood. “I’ve interrupted your day long enough. Thank you for your time and patience. Mr. Giles, I’d like to meet with you in your office in the morning.”

“Yes, quite right. I’ll clear my calendar.” Giles answered.

Spike stood and opened the door for the police officers saying, “Ta,” closing the door after them. He leaned his back against the door and looked over at Buffy, “…correcting the natural order of things?”

Buffy frowned, let out a great sigh and said, “Oh, now, don’t you start.”

Once the door closed the rest of the group began a buzz of conversation about the visit. Some were breathing sighs; some laughing and some concerned. With Buffy’s comment, talk ceased and all eyes turned to the couple.

Spike stepped toward Buffy with his cat like walk. “This isn’t your old song, is it? You know the one … where I’m an evil, disgusting thing?”

Buffy threw up her hands in frustration and cried, “Aaaaagh! I’m the Slayer, Spike. I kill vampires. You know that. Hell, YOU kill vampires. Why are you being all sensitive man all of a sudden?” She looked to the others for support; “Did I say anything that wasn’t true?” Their answer was a chorus of unintelligible groans. Buffy just rolled her eyes.

She spun back to Spike. Nearly shouting, she said, “Spike. I love you. I have probably loved you forever, but I’m a slow learner so I didn’t get it right at the start. I get it now. You’re a vampire. It’s crazy, but I love you.” Then she brightened, “I love you no matter what … I’d love you even if you were a … a … fyarl demon.” She heard the audible gasp from the others and then added with a tone of finality … “With a cold.”

All their eyebrows raised in shock and the tension broke with laughter.

~~~

DI Arthur left the cottage and paused at the end of the walk. The sergeant didn’t question his superior, just took his place alongside him. Experience told him there might be orders, or a comment. In any event, they were together long enough that he understood it was his to stand and wait.

The inspector took a deep breath as he stared straight ahead into the fading purple horizon. He slowly pulled on his gloves. The air was cool, damp, and refreshing after being in the cottage. His voice was all business as they turned to walk to the car. “Place a twenty-four hour guard on the cottage beginning immediately. Four, I think. Two in front and two in back. Tell them to make sure they aren’t detected.” He scanned the area around the cottage. Then, meeting Carruthers eye, to insure there comprehension, he said, “And arrange to have six men on standby as possible replacements. If any one of them should leave, I want them tailed.”

As they buckled the seatbelts, Arthur said, “One more thing, sergeant. Look into electronic surveillance, please. Maybe we can hear what they talk about when they are alone. Let’s find out if this story of theirs is some kind of game.” They stayed in the car until they saw the guards arrive. Carruthers flashed his headlights in acknowledgement as he pulled out of the car park.

Carruthers finally felt it was alright to speak, “So what do you think sir?”

“I don’t know what to think, sergeant. I guess Granger’s spy school idea wasn’t so strange after all.”

~~~
By six o’clock, the unmarked police van was in place just the other side of the hedges bordering the school property. It was close enough to get good reception from the remote disposable microphones that were fired into the bark of trees surrounding the cottage. Those assigned as guards were reporting their positions and observations and the six others on standby were in a caravan parked at a nearby petrol station. They were used to this kind of assignment and were comfortable passing the time. They would get extra pay for this duty whether they were called into action or not.

Carruthers stopped by to make certain everything was set up as he had requested. He recognized the voices of the people he’d met that afternoon in the chatter from the planted mikes. Behind him, he saw a computer making a transcript of everything that was said. If their conversation was as bizarre as it was earlier, he expected he’d be seeing some startled expressions on his colleagues before long.

Suddenly, the voices took on an edge of urgency. “Anchor, this is Flounder. Tall man in school guard uniform seen approaching the cottage. Advise. Over.”

“Stand down, Flounder. Ears are in place. Monitoring in progress. Over.”

Carruthers and the team listened carefully as the man Carruthers recognized as Mr. Harris said, “I’ll get it. I expect it will be our other undead friend.”

The man Carruthers knew only as Anchor said, “Did he say undead?”

Carruthers said, “Shhh.”

Spike said, “Good, I’m a bit peckish for my favorite snack. I hope he brought some O negative with him.”

Carruthers told the team, “I think that was Mr. Sanger’s voice.”

Anchor noted the name and time for the transcript and said, “O negative? That some kind of designer wine?”

Carruthers repeated, “Shhh.”

Xander said, “MacGregor, my man. Welcome to our Thanksgiving dessert.”

The electronics team could hear the rustling of chairs. Then, a new voice, “I’ve brought something special for you too, William.”

Mr. Sanger answered, “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, mate. I could really get used to this you know. In the States, I have to settle for pig blood. Otter if I’m lucky.”

The conversation turned to multiple overlapping exchanged pleasantries. Anchor turned and asked, “What the hell? Blood?” The sergeant’s coat slipping through the closing door was his only answer.
~~~
Binnemon watched from his perch in the oak tree behind the cottage. He counted himself damn lucky for not having been hit by whatever the peelers all done up as commandos were shooting into the trees. He’d come to rid himself of this so-called slayer and found the cottage full of people … threw a nasty wrench in his plans. Ah well, he thought. Patience got me this far, it’ll serve me well tonight as well. These others can’t stay all night. They’re drinkin,’ sure … that’s to my benefit too. Drink makes ‘em stupid and it’ll add somethin’ to the flavor. And who could have guessed I’d have a floorshow before the main course? He snorted and quickly slapped his hand over his mouth. Didn’t want to give himself away now, did he?
~~~

Title: Goodbye, Mr. Giles
Author: Aamah
Pairing: S/B
Rating by chapter: PG
Chapter 36 ~ Puzzles
Genre: Post NFA ~ General

To quickly bring you up to date: It’s Thanksgiving. Buffy and Spike are entertaining Giles and Leah, Spike’s doctor. Dawn is in England for the occasion and Xander rounds out the guest list. Inspector Arthur stopped by believing that Giles could be coerced into confessing to the murder of Chastity Baker. Instead, Giles gave up all the secrets of the Council leaving the Inspector convinced they were insane and gave an order to put the cottage under surveillance.

We join our friends later that evening, unaware that they are under a microscope. MacGregor has joined the party.

Based on characters created by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. No copyright infringement intended. Original characters are mine.

Chapter 36 ~ Puzzles

Giles pushed his chair back from the table and said, “That’s it. I’m stuffed.”

Comments around the table echoed Giles’ remark. No one dared bring up the visit from the inspector. Giles had already made his position perfectly clear. He simply could not go on living with the lie. His entire adult life he’d worked for a subversive organization. He understood perfectly well the need for secrecy, but keeping a secret was very different from an out and out lie. He had hardly slept since the whole episode had begun. Tonight, he knew he would be able to lay his head on his pillow with a clear conscience.

Besides, there was another proverbial five hundred-pound gorilla in the room. When MacGregor arrived, Dawn beckoned him to get a chair from the kitchen to sit next to her, displacing Xander. Xander’s new level of maturity kept him from making a scene, but it was apparent to all present that he was not happy. Throughout dessert, while the conversation was otherwise lively, Xander muttered one-word comments when he spoke at all.

Buffy felt badly for him. She had information to which only Spike was privy. Dawn had been the first guest to arrive for dinner, ostensibly to help Buffy, or so Dawn told Xander when she called him telling him not to bother picking her up. She was going early and would walk. Dawn was in the mood for some girl talk. The kind she couldn’t have if Xander were around. Buffy recalled the conversation.

***

“Have you even looked at him?” Dawn asked.

“Who?”

“Who? Who do you think?” Dawn said rolling her eyes. “MacGregor! I mean, how cool is it that he only goes by one name. Have you seen his eyes? They’re so dark. Almost black … and he’s so tall.”

“And so dead,” Buffy said as she opened the oven door and basted the turkey.

Dawn spun so quickly, the little stack of paper napkins they used as coasters fluttered and drifted to the floor. She bent to pick them up and said, “And your point would be …?”

Buffy refused to buy into Dawn’s indignation. “My point, my dear sister, is that MacGregor is a vampire. That is not a road you wish to travel,” she said as she took two coffee cups out of the drain.

Eyes wide, Dawn shouted, “You hypocrite. It’s OK for you but not for anyone else, is that it?” Dawn saw that Buffy was pouring coffee and added, “No thanks, none for me.”

“It’s not for you. I’m the Slayer, Dawn. Not a hypocrite,” Buffy said calmly.

“Exactly what has that got to do with it?”

Spike appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. He was shirtless, his jeans slung low on his narrow hips, top button open. He reached for the cup Buffy extended to him and said, his voice even deeper from sleep. “She’s a supernatural being, Niblet.”

Dawn looked totally exasperated. She threw her arms up and stamped her foot. “I’M a supernatural being. I’m more supernatural than she is.”

Spike looked thoughtful, arched one eyebrow, and said, “She’s got you there, Slayer.”

Buffy refused to be rattled. This was too important a day. “We are not discussing this any further. I agree, Dawn. MacGregor is hot … in a young Sean Connery kind of way. Not my type.” She paused here, grabbing at Spike’s unbuttoned jeans and pulled him to her. “He’s way too stiff for my taste. I need my man a little naughty.”

Picking up on her comment, Spike leered at her and said, “I’m not stiff? I can be stiff. Just move your hand a little lower.”

Buffy started to answer when Dawn rolled her eyes and said, “Don’t! Just don’t. OK?”

“Seriously Dawnie, you just met the man.”

“Exactly. I just met the man. Can’t I drool a little over the hotness? Sheesh, you’d think I said I was going to marry him.” Dawn said.

“What about Xander?” Buffy asked.

“What about Xander?” Suddenly stern voice Spike parroted. “The whelp makin’ moves on you, bit?”

Dawn took a coffee cup, sat down at the table, and motioned to Buffy to fill the cup. Heaving a great sigh, she said, “I don’t know. I always had a crush on him but he was too old for me … then. Now that age isn’t an issue, it’s like we’ve forgotten how to talk to each other.” She looked troubled. “I mean, he notices my chest, and I notice his pecs but I don’t get it … we never had trouble talking to each other before.”

Spike, always sensitive and aware, understood her discomfort. He searched for the right thing to say. Maybe this is the time to say nothing, he thought. Before he had a chance to decide, Dawn pressed on.

“It’s so easy to talk to MacGregor.”

“Ha! That’s a laugh.” Buffy said. “I can’t understand a bloody thing he says. Why do you think I make such a fast exit when he gets here?”

Spike went to the fridge and rummaged around for his container of blood. “Listen to you, Slayer. Not a bloody thing, eh? Rubbin’ off on you, I am. We got any blood?”

“Only if there was some left last night. They didn’t send any this morning. They must have forgotten, what with all the Thanksgiving stuff.”

Dawn said, “Um … can we focus here? My problem?”

Spike turned a kitchen chair backward. Gingerly straddling it, he faced Dawn. “This is hard, bit. MacGregor is my friend and I know this is going to sound … surprising, but so is Xander.
And … you’re my Niblet. No man is good enough for you. No man will ever be right, and every time you start talkin’ like you’re interested in someone, flags are gonna go up for the slayer and me. Buffy’s just lookin’ out for you.”

Buffy pulled the kitchen towel from her shoulder and held on to it as she sat on the edge of the chair near Dawn. She placed her hands, still grasping the towel, in her lap and she leaned forward as if to lend importance to what she was going to say. It was such a typical Joyce move that it startled Dawn. “Dawnie, I’m not trying to be Mom, or your boss. It’s just that I’ve made pretty much all the mistakes a girl can make.”

Dawn smirked; Spike saw it and glared at her.

Buffy continued, clueless as to the silent encounter between Spike and Dawn. “God, if Mom ever knew the things … I just want you to be careful.” She felt like she had so much more to say, but she knew it would end up being the never-ending lecture, the one that all parents are so good at and kids switch off.

***

“Buffy … Buffy?”

“Oh … I’m sorry, more coffee?”

Spike laughed nervously, “No coffee, luv. Giles asked where you put Angel’s box. Daydreamin’?”

Startled, she blushed and said, “Um, sorry. Yeah, I guess I was. What was the question?”

Giles cleared his throat and spoke up, “You put Angel’s box away. We were just telling MacGregor about it. I thought he might like to see it.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll get it.”

While she was gone, Spike said, “I’ve been thinking it over, Rupes. I’ve remembered how to open it.”

Giles face lit up in anticipation. “Splendid!”

“Don’t go getting excited. I’m not entirely sure I want to open it.” Spike said.
Giles had been sipping his drink and sputtered at Spike’s comment. “What? Of course you want to open it. Think of it, man. We can learn so much.”

“Nothin’ I need to learn. I know all I need to know about Angel … Angelus. I’ve got the scars to prove it.” He realized what he had said and continued defensively, “Well, I would have … if it weren’t for the vampire healing.”

Giles, considering that all of Spike’s memories of Angel weren’t necessarily pleasant, tried another tactic. “Well then, would you consider gifting it to the Council so that we may learn from it? You need never know anything more about it.” Then, sheepishly, Giles said, “Needless to say, we’d need you to open it first.”

Buffy returned holding the box, her color slightly ashen. She’d overheard the brief exchange and understood immediately it’s implications. She directed her comments to Spike, her voice barely audible. “Maybe I need to see what’s inside.”

Spike met her eyes, “Baby, believe me, there’s nothing there you want so see.”

“So you know what’s in there?” Buffy said.

“Some.”

Buffy sat down, still holding the box in her lap. As she spoke, her hands caressed the carvings on it’s polished surface. “Spike. I love you. You know that now, don’t you?”

Spike’s look was puzzled, but he answered, “I know you love me, Buffy.”

“But Angel was my first. Angel was in my heart first. It’s hard to let that go.” Buffy spoke cautiously. “What I had with him is over. You are the only one in my heart now, but, maybe it would be easier to let the memories go if I knew who he really was.”

Giles broke in, “I don’t believe I’m hearing this. You knew exactly what Angel was, Buffy.” He pulled off his glasses. “Lord knows I tried to tell you often enough.”

“I know, but Angel was dark and sexy and alluring. I was sixteen. He was forbidden fruit. When I did meet Angelus, I just couldn’t … wouldn’t … put him together with the Angel I knew. Maybe I need to know what he was really capable of, you know?”

The mood in the room had turned somber and the others in the room weren’t entirely sure what was happening. They exchanged glances and it was Dawn who finally broke into what seemed like a private unspoken conversation between Giles, Spike and her sister. “I’m usually pretty good at reading between the lines, but I’ll admit I’m stumped here. What the hell is going on?”

Xander picked up the thread, “Yeah, who pressed fast forward? I think I missed a lot of important dialogue.”

Giles ignored their comments, sighed, and said, “It’s interesting, isn’t it? It seems like every time we find ourselves in some sort of comfort zone, something comes along … so unexpected … that turns everything around.” He smiled and mused, “I remember that was how I felt about earthquakes in California.” He looked around at the circle of confused faces. “I couldn’t even be sure of the earth beneath my feet.”

Spike, who was always so cocky, looked defeated. Flaring his nostrils and filling his lungs, he said, “I should have known it was all too good to be true. Might as well go ahead and get it over with.”

He was rough as he pulled the box away from Buffy and placed it on the table. He ran his hands over the carvings and raised his eyes as though he was searching for the answer to the puzzle. Twisting what looked like a carved rose caused a piece of wood from the bottom to spring out to the side. He took that piece, pulled it out further and turned it back on itself, sliding it back in place but backwards and upside down. When he flipped the box upright again, a round opening had appeared in the middle of the lid. Spike pushed his finger in and a lever pushed out on either side. He made the same rotating move he’d done on the bottom and they all heard a definite click. He reached his hand under the bottom of the box, did something with his finger and the top clicked open. “Welcome to the mementos of Angelus, Master Vampire of the Order of Aurelius. I’m going outside for a smoke.”

Xander pushed his chair back and said, “Hold on, Spike. I’ll come with. Come on, Dawn. Get your coat.”

“Get my coat? Why?”

“Because I’m leaving. I have no interest whatsoever in anything having to do with Angel slash Angelus.” Out of the corner of his eye he caught the expression on Giles face and realized he probably shouldn’t have said that. “Um, I’m not interested in it … tonight … um,” he stretched his arms and made a dramatic yawn. “I’m really, really interested tomorrow, but I’m just exhausted … right now … um, and I’m taking you home. Well, to the dorm.” Xander said.

Dawn bristled at his tone and said, “I don’t want to go.”

Xander retorted, looking and sounding very bossy, “Well, that’s too bad. Get your coat.”

“Xander, just who do you think you’re talking to?” said Buffy. “If Dawn doesn’t want to go, she doesn’t have to.”

Dawn, suddenly possessed by her former self couldn’t resist the urge to smirk. She had the good sense not to say nanny nanny boo boo.

Spike stuck his head back in the door, “Hey whelp, you comin’?”

Before Xander could answer, MacGregor spoke up and said, “I’d be happy to see Miss Summers to the dormitory.”

“What’s this?” said Spike. “Bit? You need an escort?”

Xander said, “Whoa there now, she doesn’t need an escort. I’m taking her home. Now.”

As if Xander had said nothing at all, Dawn looked at Spike and said, “No thanks, Spike. MacGregor said he’d see me home.”

Xander’s hairline lifted about two inches, his mouth falling open. He started to speak, but all he uttered was, “Aaaarrrrgh….” Spinning on his heels, he pushed his way past Spike in the doorway.

Outside, Xander stood at the end of the walk. Spike flicked his lighter and put the flame to the tip of the cigarette already hanging from his lips. It was the first indication Xander had that he wasn’t alone. Damned vampires, he thought.

Many thanks to betas: nightshift and cloviss

Chapter 32 ~ Confidante

“Damned vamps, eh?” Spike said as he followed Xander to his car.

“So what? You a mind reader now?” Xander asked.

“Nah, I just figured that’s what you were thinking when you jumped two inches and your arms went spastic.” Spike snickered.

Xander stood outside his car with his hands on the hood just trying to compose himself. Taking deep breaths wasn’t doing it. He was just so pissed. Vampires bad, right? Here I go again thinking what life would have been if I’d never known about vampires. They were crawling all over Sunnydale and only a handful of people even had a clue. Sometimes I wish I was one of them. Of course, I’d be dead by now, a tasty treat for some stupid, just risen vamp. That’d be just my luck too, wouldn’t it?

He hit the automatic lock and the car beeped. At the same moment, Spike said, “What’s troublin’ you, mate? You got one of your short hairs stuck in your knickers? ”

“Jesus Christ!” Xander bellowed. “Are you following me?”

“Maybe I thought you looked lonely,” Spike said, as he flicked his butt off into the weeds. “Um, you were telling me about how good the sound system is this old clunker. How about givin’ me a listen?”

“What?” Xander said, glancing around looking for someone else as though this was a come-on for some kind of joke.

Eagerly, Spike went on, “No, seriously, how about you pump up the volume!” Spike smiled and did a little dance thing.

“What is wrong with you?” asked Xander.

Spike shook his head, opened the driver side door, and slid in. “Gimme the keys, Harris.”

Xander’s keys were just hanging in his hand as he stood dumbfounded watching Spike. This was just crazy. Disgusted, Spike grabbed the keys and started the engine. Then he flipped through Xander’s CD collection. “God, you are pitiful, y’know that?” He finally found a Drop Kick Murphys CD, put it in, and cranked it. The sound was deafening.

“That’s it! You’ve gone completely over, haven’t you?” Xander yelled.

Spike unlocked the passenger side door and pushed it open then got out of the car, leaving both doors open. As the raucous tunes shattered the quiet campus, Spike beckoned Xander round back a couple of feet away from the car. Cautiously, Xander went to him.

“I don’t want us to be overheard,” Spike said.

“Overheard? I can’t fuckin’ hear myself. Who’s gonna hear us?”

Spike answered, “The bobbies. As soon as I walked out of the cottage, I felt this weird buzzing that threw me right off-kilter until I figured out that it was all their electronic doodads messing with me.” He shifted from foot to foot as he spoke. “I’m guessin’ the Chief has got eyes and ears on us. They’re all about.” He did a little circle dance. “I can smell ‘em.” Spike popped his eyes at Xander and said, “Do something, you dolt! Act like you’re groovin’ on the music or somethin’. Laugh! A couple of guys, you know?”

Finally catching on, Xander threw his head back and laughed.

“That’s more like it, chum.”

Xander said, “We coulda done this in the car, you know.” He lifted his hands as part of his dance move. “I wouldn’t feel like such an ass having this phony conversation.”

“Like I’ve ever worried about how you felt. In fact, pissin’ you off is one of my favorite things. The car is bugged, m’lad. I’d bet on it.”

Xander, gestured with his chin and said, “Don’t look now, but here comes the=Calvary.”

“Cavalry.”

“Right.”

“No, you said … oh, forget it.” Spike turned and saw Buffy marching full speed ahead in his direction, waving her arms and saying something he couldn’t hear over the music. The rest of the party followed behind. He braced himself.

“Have you lost your mind? This is a quiet, serene place … and you’re … dancing?” Buffy said. Spike laughed. Didn’t she get that screaming at the top of her lungs had nothing to do with serenity? She lifted her hand as if to smack him. So much of their relationship was physical, after all, but then she thought better of it. The threat was enough. He sobered himself quickly, pulled her close, and spoke directly in her ear sharing what he knew. Instantly aware, Buffy turned to scan the trees. Spike grabbed her face in his hands bringing her into a quick hard kiss through which he spoke. “Don’t! Better they don’t know we’re on to them, yeah? I’d wager they been listening to us since Arthur and his lackey left us.”

Buffy met his comment with alarm. Spike threw his head back, chuckled, and then walked her over to the car where he turned down to music to a tolerable background level. “Don’t worry, pet. They think we’re mad. If they wanted us locked up, we’d be enjoying their hospitality already. We got nothing to hide … anymore,” glancing at Giles as he said it.

In the meantime, Xander clued the others in and the group almost became festive as they played out their charade.

~~~

Binne figured his best bet was to stalk this Chosen Slayer. If the stories were true, she was the only real slayer. The others were just pretenders to the throne. Spending a few nights at the local pubs was worth the investment of the price of a few pints. He’d found out that she was quartered at one of the private cottages on the campus and that she had a bodyguard. What the fuck does a slayer need with a bodyguard? He learned that this so-called guard was a skinny fellow with an attitude. Didn’t look like much, but gave off enough vibe that nobody was willing to challenge him.

So, he found the cottage, scoped out some trees where he could settle himself, watch, and wait. Patience. It always worked for him before and he could think of no reason why it wasn’t going to work now. Luck was with him. This girl was being well taken care of. The kitchen staff brought a basket of food every morning before dawn. He checked it out and damned if it didn’t have blood too. What the fuck? Maybe the slayers were blood drinkers too. Ain’t that a kick?

At first he was amused as he saw the troops setting up at the cottage too. Then he realized he was trapped there unless something happened to distract them. Binnemon started to worry about his legs falling asleep. A furtive exit from a branch in a tree wouldn’t be so stealthy if he landed on his ass. He had never trained as a hunter and had no patience for stalking. He hoped the blood he had found in the basket would be enough to keep him on top of his game. Things started looking up when two men left the building and the electronic chatter around him increased. Unfortunately, they walked around to the side of the cottage so he couldn’t follow their movements.

Suddenly, the night was shattered by loud rock and roll music startling him. He lost his balance and the earth shook when he hit the ground. Binne sat still as stone bracing himself for the infantry to surround him. Binne couldn’t believe his luck. Whatever the folks inside were up to was enough to keep the coppers busy and they never noticed him. It only got better as those still inside left the cottage too. Maybe now is the time to go inside and hide. That would keep the noise and the mess inside. No, he thought, once they’re on the other side of the building, I’ll use my speed and position myself as close as I can.

~~~
Dawn approached Buffy and Spike with MacGregor at her heels. “Buffy, I’m heading back to my room now. Thanks for a great day. With all the weirdness it almost felt like home.”

“MacGregor walking you?” a shivering Buffy asked.

Spike tugged her in close and wrapped his coat around them. “Smart slayers remember coats in November, Buffy.”

“Smart slayers don’t sweat the small stuff when they have a Spike all their own,” Buffy said as she wriggled against him.

Dawn had had enough and said, “When will you two just stop? And yes, MacGregor is seeing me to my door.”

“And no further,” said Spike. Buffy gave him an elbow to the ribs.

Spike jumped back and said, “What?”

Dawn ignored them. “On that note, we are out of here. See you tomorrow,” she said as she turned to join MacGregor on the path. Xander watched as they greeted each other snuggling their heads together. Xander hoped it was only so they could hear each other as they walked away from the “party.”

~~~

Binnemon overheard that this little one was going to break away from the rest of the group. He realized he was purring. This is delicious, he thought. He could have the slayer anytime now that he was sure where she was camped out. This one was going to the dorm and she was one bird in hand he was not going to pass up. Binnemon watched as the atmosphere became festive and when he saw his opportunity, he took off for the dorm complex to wait for his prey.

~~~


Giles stepped up, “Quite right, Buffy. We’ll be leaving now too, just need to gather our things.” His phrasing was awkward as he spoke and tried to act naturally. The watcher didn’t like being watched.

Buffy wiggled out of Spike’s coat and said, “I’ll go with you.” Glancing back at Spike she added, “Don’t be long,” and winked.

Spike nodded, turning back to Xander. “Now I’m cold.” Lighting the next cigarette, he queried, “So what is it then?”

Xander was busy going over his car for microphones or cameras. Spike saw and said, “Could you be a little more obvious, asshole?” Then, after a beat added, “And turn the music up a bit while you’re at it.”

Xander, still searching, stopped long enough to look straight at Spike and say, “Fuck you.”

Spike grinned and said, “Yeah. All right, fine. Fuck me. So, what’s your problem?”

Xander paused, took a deep breath, and stood up. “What’s my problem? What’s my problem?” He slammed his trunk. “I’ll tell you what my problem is … and understand, this is no pity party. Everything … I mean everything about my life sucks. Shit, I don’t even know where to start. Oh! Here’s one. Let’s try it on for size. An evil-worshipping priest poked my eye out. That’ll start putting things into perspective. Or, how about this one. My hometown was sucked into hell with anything and everything I ever knew. And then there’s the lunacy of trying to compete in a job where I’m up against candidates that already have more degrees than Einstein and I barely made it out of Sunnydale High. No pressure there. And … and,” Xander stepped into Spike’s space and yelled, spittle frothing from his mouth. “I’m a healthy male, with healthy … you know … urges … and finally, I get a chance to maybe reconnect with a woman that I might actually have a chance with and I get bested by a vampire.” The word vampire echoed in the chill night air.

Spike stood straight, lifted his chin and took deep breaths of the evening air. Vampire senses, he loved them. He had known immediately that Dawn wasn’t showing that kind of interest in MacGregor. He noticed there was something else lurking in the wind, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe it’s the surveillance team. He threw his shoulders back and said, “Wanna take a walk?”

Xander looked suspicious and asked, “What’s this all about?”

“A while back, I had some troubles and you did me a kind turn. Thought maybe, I could listen to your troubles this time, maybe tell you somethin’ about yourself that you don’t know. C’mon, watcher wannabe. Let’s walk.”

Xander considered Spike’s offer, not sure if he was sincere or yanking his chain.

Spike saw the look and said, “Look mate, I’ve got me my beautiful girl waiting for me right now with the sweetest, hottest, wettest …”

“Stop right there!”

“I’m just sayin’ I don’t have to be here playin’ Father Confessor to you. I’m making quite a sacrifice here.”

“Yeah, OK. Just don’t give me any more visuals of you and Buffy, OK?”

Spike smiled, paused and said, “Right then. Um, you don’t mind if I take a moment for a visual of my own from time to time, do you?”

“Shut up, Spike.”

Thus, the two strangest of friends strolled in the direction of the dorm. Xander decided to let go and really be honest with Spike. After all, Spike shared some pretty deep stuff with him and he honestly felt like he helped the undead pain in the ass.

Xander revealed a lot of baggage about his family and home life. Some school wounds. Spike made jokes about most of it, but Xander appreciated that he had a way of making sarcastic remarks funny without necessarily being cutting. Spike admitted that he’d known some of the same kinds of wounds when he was a boy. He reminded him that he went to school in Victorian times when if you’d gotten beaten by sixth-form boys, you were more than likely going to feel the rod of the Headmaster as well.

Xander’s eyebrows shot up. “The rod?”

Spike shrugged and let Xander draw his own conclusions. “Sometimes, Harris.” he said, his expression fading to a grim smile. “So listen, not that I haven’t hated every minute of this walk down memory lane, but I sincerely doubt that your foul mood today was brought about by old news.”

Xander laughed and said, “You’d be surprised how far back it goes.” Xander stopped and took a seat on one of the benches that peppered the paths around the campus. “All right. It’s Dawn.”

Spike feigned a look of shock and said, “No. Really?”

Xander rolled his eye and gave him a look of disgust. “I always thought she was cute. Shit, my memories go back to when they moved to Sunnydale. The summer before we started high school. We were all freshmen. Buffy too. Dawn was maybe nine or ten? It doesn’t matter. It was all a figment of our imagination anyway. Sometimes I wonder if it still is. She sure looks like flesh and blood, but then, she did then too.” He glanced at Spike, expecting some sort of reaction or comment. Spike only gestured for him to go on. He waited while Spike pulled another cigarette from his pack, lit it and took a deep drag. Spike muttered something.

“Huh?”

“Nothin’ mate, just need more cigarettes soon. Go on, then.”

“Right. Where was I? Oh. I saw them both around, you know? Sunnydale is a damn small town. New teen beauty followed around by a kid sister doesn’t go unnoticed very long. Willow and I spent hours speculating about her. She had a real polished look about her. No small town chick, this one … fancy tan, nice clothes. We made up dialogue for them as we watched them shopping together in town.” He laughed. “We were cruel, man. We were sure she was a Valley Girl and Willow and I could do Valley with the best of ‘em.”

Spike said, “She was a Valley Girl. Shallow. Got over it quick when she found more vamp dust in her hair than glitter.”

“Yeah.” That stopped Xander’s soliloquy as they both gave way to private thoughts.

Continuing his story, Xander said, “Anyway, school started. Cordelia got her hooks into her right away, but Buffy dissed her when she was bitchy to Willow. We found out we were wrong about her. Well, not wrong, I guess. We just found out she was a regular girl. The rest, my friend, is history.”

Spike said, “I thought there was a problem we were gonna fix. So far, this has just been a history of a boring one-eyed bloke. I know the story gets interesting later because I’m in it, but that’s not what this is about, is it?”

“You really are a prick, you know that?”

“Well …duh! Get on with it, man!”

He took a deep breath and tried to remember that Spike was trying to help. “OK. So Dawn started growing up. It was obvious that she had a crush on me and so, yeah … maybe I took a little more notice of her. Her hair was amazing. Like a TV commercial. On hot days she’d put both hands at the back of her neck and lift her hair away from her neck to cool down, you know? The hair would lift and flow over her hands and just float for a second before it fell. God. It was gorgeous. And … and … the smell that it left in the …” Xander was smiling and looked over at Spike to share the experience and was silenced by the sight of Spike’s twitching jaw.

Xander stood straightening his shoulders and swallowed. He began walking back the way they came. Without a word, Spike fell in step. There was still story to tell, so Xander went on. This time he stuck to the facts. “Dawn grew up. Oh, she caught my attention. She definitely caught my attention, but every time I thought about her, I felt like a pervert. I mean, I wished I was Catholic. At least I would have been able to go to confession, maybe gotten some wicked … what do they call it? … penance? Maybe wear a hair shirt to cleanse impure thoughts.

“So now, she’s all grown up and not off limits anymore. How come I still feel like a pervert?”

Spike was about to answer when he stopped, turning his head as though listening for something. “’D you hear that?”

“What? I didn’t hear anyth …” Before he could finish, there was an explosion, the concussive force of which threw the both of them into the air. Xander lay stunned against a tree and Spike landed across a bench. Shaking your head to clear it always looks like the right thing to do, but it feels like shit, thought Xander as he made his way to Spike. Christ, he’s bent in half. It looks like his back is broken.

“Spike, can you hear me?”

Spike’s eyes fluttered open. He struggled to speak. Spike whispered, “Dawn”.

~~~

Chapter 38 ~ Peril

Binne’s eye was on the prize. He watched out the dorm hall window and saw the tasty morsel from the slayer’s cottage come up the walk. MacGregor was with her. He could be a problem. Men weren’t allowed in the dorm, but MacGregor was one of the guards and the guard on the door might let him see her to her door. All Binne could do was wait and see. He was never any good at sizing up the stuff of other men. MacGregor always struck him as a lightweight. Still, it never hurt to be prepared. He scanned the corridor. If this dorm was set up like the others, there should be a pay phone somewhere along the hall. The ever kind and helpful Mr. Giles, always considerate of the girls’ needs saw to it that there was a table, chair and notepad nearby each phone.

Binnemon strolled the length of the passageway until he spied what he sought. To avoid making an unnecessary ruckus, he gently turned the small wooden table over on itself and pulled off one of the legs. He then broke the leg over his knee and smiled as he came up with two very nice wooden stakes. If MacGregor showed any evidence of being a problem, he would dispatch him … one, two, three. Satisfied, Binne went back to the window to watch and wait.
~~~

Being a tall girl, Dawn wasn’t used to being dwarfed by a gentleman companion, but alongside MacGregor, she felt tiny, and she liked it. She remembered what it was like when she was a teenager and all the boys in her class were short. She felt like a giant. Even now, most of the guys she dated were average size and she nearly matched them at five foot, ten inches. MacGregor had to be at least six foot, four. If he put his arm around me, I’d just fit under his arm. Mmmmm. That must be how Buffy feels in Spike’s arms. Buffy’s right though. He is a vampire and I’m some kind of mystic essence … I mean, what would the children look like? Dawn giggled.

MacGregor smiled at her. Oops. I don’t even know what he was saying. Must … pay … attention!

“So meeting Spike turned out to be a grand thing for me, indeed. We’ve become fast friends, I think. I can’t seem to make friends with his lady though,” MacGregor said. Suddenly saddened, he continued, “I suspect it’s the accent. It’s been a problem all my life.” He brightened, “Not with you, though.”

Dawn smiled and felt supremely guilty. She did like him. He’s all sorts of good, but he’s way old. The age thing is really weird. Chances are I’m actually as old as time, but any memories only go back about seventeen years … around my third birthday. Thanks, monks.

“Well, Miss Dawn, looks like we’ve reached our destination. Do you want me to see you to your door?” They were standing on the front steps. He saw Dawn glance at the front door of the building and added, “I mean your inside door.”

Dawn chuckled. “You are just so cute. If you could blush, I think you would.”

MacGregor had never been called cute or anything even approaching it. “I’m afraid I don’t know what to say.”

It was weird to be the experienced one. As if … “You don’t have to say anything, MacGregor. You’re sweet.” She took a deep breath, glanced in the window and saw the guard at the desk in the lobby and said, “No, the guard is at his desk. I’ll just check in with him and go to my room. Thanks much for seeing me home.”

MacGregor leaned in for a kiss (he was expecting to settle for a peck on the cheek) and was surprised when Dawn deflected even that chaste good night. Disappointed, he accepted the hug and enjoyed the moment. “It was a pleasure to have some time alone with you Dawn. Perhaps we may do something like this again sometime.”

“Maybe, but I’m leaving Sunday. You’re pals with Spike now, so you’re part of the family. I’ll see you again. Good night, now,” Dawn said as she disappeared into the dormitory.

“Good night,” answered MacGregor. He watched the door close and waited until it clicked in finality. She was gone. MacGregor pulled his collar up and thrust his hands in his pockets. Who said vamps don’t feel the cold? He shook his head and thought, just different kinds of cold.

~~~~
Binnemon was bored near tears. He could almost taste that sweet, warm, human blood and was primed for a fight with that silly Scot. It was torture sitting still in the stairwell waiting for the girl’s footfall as she began her ascent.

Finally! He stepped forward. “Good evenin,’ miss. Can I be helpin’ with anything?” Binnemon said, thickening his Irish accent.

Dawn was startled. Where did this guy come from? She stopped abruptly and said, “Good evening,” and raised her hands showing him she didn’t need help. “No. Thanks anyway.” Dismissing him, she brushed past him down the hall.

Close on her heels, Binnemon said, “I don’t mean to be a bother, but sometimes the doors stick and all, and I thought I could help you with it.”

Annoyed now, Dawn said, “No help. No problem last night. Don’t expect one tonight.” God, this guy is creepy. She started toward her door and then changed her mind as she started feeling the little hairs standing up on the back of her neck. Something isn’t right about this guy. Something I should be remembering. I’ll walk briskly down the hall, down the stairs at the opposite end of the hall right back to the guard on the desk downstairs. It was a good plan. One moment too late.

Binnemon blocked her way, raised his arm and pointed the way to her door. No longer the friendly old gent, he said, “Open it.”

Properly indignant, Dawn said, “Excuse me? Just who do you think you are? Do you know who I am?”
She thought that might be a bit pretentious, but what the heck, this seemed like the right time to let this guy know who her sister is.

“Oh yes, miss. I know exactly who you are. All the more reason to eat you, my dear.” He laughed at his own little joke. Big Bad Wolf, indeed! His fangs descended and Dawn heard the familiar crunch as the bones of his face changed. Enjoying the sudden shock on her face and breathing in the fear she couldn’t hide, his voice became a predatory growl, “Open it.”

“Oookay, then. Whatever you say.” Great! The monks couldn’t have given me a little sisterly slayer instinct so at least I’d know a vampire before it was too late? Dawn recollected the things she had heard about the suspected killer. Too bad she hadn’t paid attention. Shit! … Memo to self, she thought. A little less thinking about myself and a lot more listening. OK, think fast, Dawnster.

“See now, isn’t that better? I thought we might have a nice chat?” This time his voice was a soft brogue.

As she opened the door, her mind was scrambling. She switched on the light and glanced around looking for something to use as a weapon. Metal fucking furniture? Not a piece of wood in the place. Come on, Dawn. It’s not like you haven’t seen a vamp before. OK, no weapons, Buffy always said I could talk my way out of almost anything, let’s see if she was right.

“Chat? Just what do I have to talk to a stinking, fat, undead thing about? I know something about vampires. They don’t all smell like three-day-old fish heads. Have some pride, man.”

Binnemon’s eyes glowed yellow. Dawn had seen lots of vampire faces and this was one pissed off vampire. Tone down the insults. Think Dawn. OK girl, start talkin’. “Um, alrighty then, there’s a chair over there. Make yourself comfortable. I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to offer you.” Dawn threw her purse on the bed and sat on the bed. She kicked off her shoes and said, “What can I do for you?” That sounds like I’m in charge of the situation, right?

Binnemon had to admit this was a clever girl. He was in no hurry. He casually closed the door and locked it. “I’m a vampire, but you know that already, don’t you? I been hearin’ that there’s a slayer in the area. I guessed she was the one who was livin’ in that cottage, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe you’re the slayer.”

With the door closed, the odor of decay was overwhelming. Dawn gagged and tried breathing through her mouth. Just great, now I know what death tastes like too. Dawn couldn’t help the dripping sarcasm, “Oh yeah, I’m the slayer.”

Binnemon jumped up. “I knew it!”

Oh God, this is worse than I thought. He thinks I’m Buffy and he thinks he’s going to be the vampire who offs the slayer. She reached for her bag for a tissue or a hanky. Anything to cover the smell. Then she remembered. Pencils. I have pencils in my bag. Dawn reached for her bag.

Binnemon was quicker and eased himself toward her knocking the purse to the floor. She’s already on the bed, no where to go from there. The girl will have to go through me to get to the door. “This is too delicious,” he said. “You want to know the funny thing? I never knew there was a slayer until a short while ago and now I’m gonna be the one to kill her. You have nothing to lose, or gain for that matter, so why not answer a question for me. Are you the only one?”

Fuck! Just my luck to be killed by the dumbest vampire ever. Dawn slithered away from him, backing against the wall. Sounding as fearless as she could, she said, “And wouldn’t you just like to know?”

“Ahh, so we’re not going to be friends … All right, straight to it then.”

Dawn squirmed.

“Now, now my pretty, little thing, this need not be unpleasant.” His icy hand caressed her ankle and crept slowly up her leg. “If you relax, you’ll feel a warm, erotic surge as your life begins to ebb.” He slid his hand under her skirt and stretched his fingers to stroke the silk of her panties as he just kept talking. Binnemon’s voice was soft and lilting. It didn’t matter what he said. It was mesmerizing and Dawn was falling under his spell. Worse yet, she knew it. She felt disconnected, calm and peaceful. She tried to focus. C’mon Dawn, shape up … but his hands are cool … it feels good.

Binnemon lay down on the single bed and gently pulled Dawn away from her position against the wall. Dawn was pliable in his hands. He placed his hand behind her head and gently lay her down beside him. He pulled himself up to position himself for the final approach. He wanted her blood but her sweet young quim was calling him too.

This can’t be happening. Don’t let this happen, Dawnie …have to do something …where were those pencils? God, Buffy … where are you when I need you? How could I be so stupid? I can’t let this happen … There must be something. Dawn reached inside herself.

Binnemon slid his hand farther into her panties. They troubled him and with one quick grasp, they were gone. His nails were extended and he sought her clit to tease her as he opened his mouth and prepared to bite, his fetid breath on her face.

In a heartbeat, the air was still, compressing, molding into something intangible. Binnemon felt it and lifted his head and looked around the room. Something was amiss. No one else was there. The room began to glow in a greenish tinge as the weight of the air pressed down on him. “What the fuck?”

The explosion rocked the whole of Gloucestershire.

~~~

Buffy stood in the door and watched Giles and Leah as they made their way to Giles’ car. It was heartwarming to see him so comfortable with a woman again. To her knowledge, there hadn’t been anyone since Jenny. That’s a long time for anyone. Although he was alone as long as she’d known him … except for Jenny … which was ridiculously brief, she knew in her heart that he was never meant to be alone forever. She smiled and wondered if it really were true or just that she and Spike were so happy, she wanted to believe that there was someone out there for everyone. Buffy watched Giles open Leah’s door and carefully tuck her coat in behind her. It was such a sweet gesture. She turned and went back into the cottage, closing and locking the door behind her. This has to have been one of the longest and strangest days of my life … she laughed … and for me that’s saying something. Somebody is listening to me … well; I’ll just give them something to listen to. She thought for a minute and then burst into song as she puttered around clearing the table and doing the washing up. She smiled as she struggled a little to remember all the words to the “Star Spangled Banner.”

She was carrying an overstuffed tray with all the dessert things to the kitchen when the blast from the explosion blew out all the windows in the cottage. Buffy dropped the tray and threw herself to the floor, covering her head with her arms. She lay for a moment, waiting for more. When it didn’t come, she got up, carefully dusting shards of glass and pottery from her clothing. It was pitch dark. All the lights had been blown out and it sounded like every siren and car alarm in the world was screaming.

~~~

Carruthers was startled as he saw Inspector Arthur approaching him outside the command vehicle. “Sir, is there something new? The lads inside knew that I was out here and haven’t said anything.”

“No Jack. I couldn’t settle myself after leaving. This whole thing has got me bumfuzzled. I decided I needed to be here in case anything breaks.”

“I understand.” Unbidden, the sergeant decided to give Inspector Arthur a report on what was happening. “Well sir, it hasn’t been boring. They’re an interesting lot, I’ll give them that.”

“Go on, sergeant.”

“Right then. The girl is the only one left in the cottage. The rest have all gone off. Each of them has a member of the patrol on their tail. Nothing unusual, so far. Before they parted, there was talk of opening some sort of relic and studying it.”

“Perhaps something that might hide evidence?”

“Oh no, sir. It didn’t sound like that at all. Of course, I could be wrong.”

“I rather doubt it, Carruthers. Your instincts are spot on.” Arthur said. “Anything else?”

“Yessir, the tones of the voices indicated that there was a squabble between a few of them. Straight away then, two of them left. Then there was a loud ruckus in the carpark. As near as we can surmise, one of them was showing off his new sound system in his car. It was loud enough that it kept us from hearing what they said. Then the whole lot came out, danced, and laughed a bit. They only broke up a short while ago.”

“Clever lot. They’ve made us, sergeant.” The inspector stepped toward the command vehicle. He asked, “Tea inside?”

“Yes sir!” Carruthers replied as he opened the door for his superior.

The earth shook. Arthur and Carruthers were slammed together away from the caravan. It flipped over onto its side, the men and women inside screaming for their lives. Electric sparks, beeps, and whistles of every sort emanated from the vehicle. The world went black. Every light was extinguished in the blast and adding to the confusion, sirens and alarms were singing in a cacophony of noise.

~~~

Having checked himself for broken parts and finding none, Xander said, “Jesus Spike, you look like hell.” In the darkness, Xander was glad he always carried his pocket flashlight. He’d taken a lot of ribbing for it. Holding his hands at the ready, scanning Spike’s wounds, he felt helpless. “What can I do for you? I’m afraid to touch you.”

Spike’s face was contorted in pain, his jaw twitching as he tried to maintain control. Blood bubbled and streamed from his mouth as he lay slung backward over a park bench with his arms splayed out as if he were on a cross. Blood puddled in his ears. Xander noted that he was no longer pale, but gray.

With clenched teeth Spike said, “Go to Dawn. Dawn needs you.”

“MacGregor is with Dawn. He’ll take care of her.”

Spike slowly closed his eyes as though it were an effort to keep them open. Xander gasped, thinking Spike was dead. Damned vampires don’t breathe. If a person dies, they stop breathing. In the same second he remembered Buffy’s mantra. If he’s not dust, he’s not dead.

Spike groaned, “MacGregor isn’t a warrior. Dawn needs you.”

“Thanks, man. That’s nice, but I can’t leave you here like this. Tell me what to do.”

Spike struggled to understand why Xander just wouldn’t listen to him. Mustering what little strength he had, he said, “Buffy will be here any second. I know that, and you know it too. Xander, something bad is happening to Dawn. I can feel it. Christ, I can smell it.”

“OK, OK. I get it. I’ll go.”

Spike struggled to say one more thing. “If it’ll make you feel any better, I can hear Buffy coming. Now GO.”

Xander was at odds with himself. It didn’t feel right to leave Spike. God knew there was a lot of baggage between them. One thing certain, he didn’t like the idea of this being goodbye. He took one last look at Spike whose eyes met his. There was unmistakable mutual understanding. Xander nodded, turned and ran.

Most folks didn’t realize that Xander was in good shape. He’d fallen off the wagon, so to speak, when Buffy and Spike arrived. Before their arrival, he worked out with the slayers three days a week, ran with them once a week, and had gotten to the point where he could keep up with them. No super powers, but he was fit. Shit! He was a warrior. Spike said so.

~~~

Chapter 39 ~ Blitz


Settled in the car, Giles and Leah relied on small talk as they pulled out of the carpark. They were surprised to find Xander’s car still there with no sign of Xander or Spike. That led them down several avenues of conjecture, none of which involved the possibility of worry. They were relaxed enough to even enjoy a few chuckles over the Inspector’s visit. As they neared the campus exit, Leah was laughing as she made a comment and very deliberately placed her hand on Giles’ thigh. Nothing changed in her tone of voice. Nothing suggesting that it was anything more than an accident … until her fingers began to knead the muscles of his leg, her fingers spread and sliding toward his fly.

Giles was certain his heart had stopped. He’d forgotten how to breathe. Get hold of yourself, man. It took him less than a second to act. Turn left to bring her to her home. Turn right to bring her to his cottage. He flicked his indicator and nearly lost control of the car as he made the right turn.

Leah threw her head back and laughed. She said, “At last, I finally figured out what it would take.”

Giles wrinkled his forehead, cleared his throat, and said, “What it would take?”

“I have been giving you signals for weeks,” she said. “Did you know that you are very difficult to seduce? I know you’ve had a lot on your mind, but seriously, if you ever hope to settle in a relationship, you’ve got to learn to pay a little more attention.”

“Then it’s my good fortune that you are a persistent lass,” Giles said as he gently lifted her hand and placed it firmly over his very needy erection.

“Oh! Oh my!” Leah uttered a throaty giggle that Giles hoped meant glee and pushed the pedal to the floor.

Without any warning, it felt like the world ended. The car, speeding down the road, was stunned by a violent jarring of the air around it sending it careening off the road into a grove of trees. The air bags deployed saving their lives but leaving them shaken.

Giles remained still for a moment doing a mental inventory of life and limbs. Some things were hurting, but he found himself basically intact. His turned to Leah. Reaching over to him, she was checking for a pulse until he spoke. Together they said, “Thank God,” followed by a nervous laugh.

“Well then, what in bloody hell was that?” Giles asked.

“Something big would be my guess.” Leah answered.

“Aren’t you just a master of understatement.”

It was pitch dark. No moon, no stars and not so much as a candle burning anywhere. At the same time, the quiet of the night was torn asunder by every sort of siren and electronic alarm.

Leah had to yell to be heard, “Giles, do you have a torch?”

“What?” he said, straining to hear, “Oh yes, in the boot. Give me your hand; I can’t see you and I don’t want to lose you.” She did as he asked and they made their way around to the back of the car. Giles’ keys were still in the ignition. He told Leah to stay where she was as he went to get them. While making his way round, he focused on what happened. Dear Lord, is this an apocalypse? Had he been so involved in other things that he failed to be tuned to the portents of evil?

His hands shook as he struggled to remove the keys, ultimately bruising his hand when they gave way with an angry pull. “Damn!” Making his way back to Leah, he tuned his senses to all the evidence around him. There was a peculiar odor in the air. Difficult to identify. Perhaps once I get the torch I can “shed some light on the subject” Giles laughed aloud.

Leah was sitting on the ground by the car when Giles got back. “My dear, are you alright?” He asked, warmth and concern in his voice.

“Just tired,” she replied, “and maybe a little sore. I’ve checked myself out. I think I may have some abrasions and contusions. I picked some glass out of my hair. If we ever get lights back again, I suspect we’ll look very bloody, but I don’t think either of us have any serious injuries.”

“I agree that our injuries are not life threatening just yet, but I’ve had a moment to think. Things like this tend to make me think apocalypse.”

Leah was aghast. “You don’t really think …?”

“I don’t know, but it pays to be on the alert. Ah, there it is,” he said as he found the torch. “Now, where is the other?” Got it!” He said triumphantly! “Oh yes, and weapons. Leah, were you even instructed in the use of stakes, axes, knives or swords? Crossbows?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I have them all here. What would you like?”

Leah’s mouth was hanging open. “You’re serious?”

“Quite.”

“Very well, I’ll take two stakes and … um … a knife, I guess.” It was clear she wasn’t taking this at all well.

Giles switched on the torch and shone it on Leah’s face. There were small cuts all over her face and neck. His heart broke. “Oh, my dear.” He raised his hand to her face and gently stroked her cheek. Leah leaned into the gesture. Encouraged, Giles brushed his lips against hers. “Ever been to an apocalypse?” Giles asked as he grabbed her hand and started running in the direction they thought the explosion originated just now absorbing that in the torchlight, the air looked green.

“First time for everything,” Leah replied, kicking off her high heels. Giles glanced down questioningly. “The better to run with, m’dear.”

“Just be careful.”

~~~

MacGregor picked himself up from the ground, dusting himself off. He gave his head a shake as he tried to reorient himself. He wasn’t hurt, but whatever had caused that explosion definitely played havoc with his perception of the world around him. He waited while his eyes adjusted to the blackness. Night vision was a vampire perk. He never noticed that his night vision was green before though, like those night vision glasses you see in movies. He scanned the area. The greater concentration of green glowed from the dorm where he’d just left Dawn. Before he even completed the thought, he bolted to the scene.

~~~

The lads who had been assigned to tailing the occupants of the cottage became victims themselves. The two who followed Giles and Leah had overturned their vehicle and were knocked unconscious. The two who followed Xander and Spike were close enough to see what happened to them. Judging Spike to be dead, they both stayed with Xander as he ran toward the school buildings.
~~~
Buffy lingered long enough to slip on her sneakers. The door to the cottage jammed. She kicked it down and ran out of the building yelling for Spike. “Damn, where the hell are you when I need you?” Buffy was annoyed that she couldn’t just take off in the direction of the blast. Now she had to detour to the carpark to find Spike. Feeling as though she had to make up for lost time; she set off on her own as fast as she could. to catch up to Spike.

~~~

Xander was the first of the Scoobs on the scene. The nest of dormitory buildings was a beehive of activity. After running in total darkness, this was like a carnival. Colored lights on police, rescue and fire vehicles made the already chaotic scene somewhat disorienting. Too much stimuli. A couple of the girls are epileptic, the bright and flashing lights could trigger a seizure …Hmmph! … That’ll be the next crisis! Great, one more thing to worry about and why do I pick now to start thinking like a watcher. He scanned the area, suddenly even more aware of how limited his disability left him. At least he could be grateful that the bright spotlights were up, running and trained on the dorm where the blast occurred. Still out of breath he bent over with his hands on his knees to fill his lungs with crisp night air. He came up disappointed though. No crisp night air, just exhaust fumes from generators running the lights and engines. His one eye had good periperal vision and he spotted MacGregor coming up along side him. Unable to hide the irritation in his voice, Xander said, as he slowly rose, “Jesus, man, why aren’t you inside checking on Dawn?” He’d just assumed that with vampire speed, MacGregor would have beaten him to the scene.

“The place is crawling with police and civilians. I was afraid I’d show my true face,” MacGregor answered, looking ridiculously sheepish for a man of his bulk, let alone a vampire.

Xander rolled his eye, Deliver me, O Lord, from wussy vampires. Frustrated, he said, “Nevermind. Look, the front of the building is nothing but knots of shattered wood and broken glass making it a not-so-safish place for either of us. Can you do that leapy, jumpy thing that makes Spike think he can fly?”

MacGregor glanced where Xander was looking and said, “Spike can fly?”

Xander shrugged his shoulders and gave MacGregor a wilting look that couldn’t be misunderstood. He averted his eyes in embarrassment and said, “I don’t think I can fly, but I can jump to that second floor landing you’re looking at.”

“Great! You jump and then pull me up. Do you know the quickest way to get to that room?”

“What room?”

Xander shook his head and shouted, “You are hopeless. The power is out, Dead Man. Did it ever occur to you that the only room with a light in it might be the epicenter of this nightmare?” Then went on after a beat. “No!” Xander’s voice was rising even further, his face reddening as he continued. “And I’ll just guess that you didn’t notice that light was a kind of a creepie, eerie green which is one of the first rules of bad things are happening.” After taking a deep breath, he said, “Let’s just go.”

Xander pointed the way and they broke into a run, McGregor taking the lead.
~~~~

DI Arthur and Carruthers arrived on the scene and Carruthers immediately commandeered a bucket truck to lift him and the Inspector up to the glowing green window. They were dumbstruck by what they saw. Standing in the corner, the younger Summers girl looked to be frozen in some sort of catatonic state but inasmuch as she was standing, they assumed she was alive. Across the room, hovering above the bed was a green, gelatinous looking sphere undulating with one of the school constables apparently imprisoned within. What plaster that was left on the walls was shattered and crumbling revealing only the skeleton of the building. Why the outer walls hadn’t shattered one would never know. Mr. Harris and another guard arrived gingerly negotiating their way through the rubble.

The scene was surreal. The air was colored with the green glow from the orb and Arthur felt as though time was suspended as he and Carruthers assessed the situation. He observed that Mr. Harris and his friend were doing exactly the same thing.

Abruptly, all hell broke loose as Harris ran across the room to embrace Miss Summers seemingly oblivious to the danger. She collapsed in his arms; the orb instantly disintegrating, releasing it’s captive. Freed, he paused only long enough to emit a deafening uhholy roar. He dropped down onto the bed. Bouncing on it as if it were a trampoline and sprang onto the beams left visible from the blast. Then he leapt and swung himself through the debris with the skill of an acrobat with MacGregor, Arthur and Carruthers close on his heels.

Carruthers could be heard signaling the rest of the squad that a suspect was escaping out the other side of the building as he ran behind the inspector. The sounds of the police mobilizing to surround the building added to the confusion and Binnemon took full advantage. He vaulted onto the roof of the nearest vehicle and took only a moment to select his next move. One brave bobbie made an attempt to intercept him. The crowd might not even have noticed in the din were it not for hearing Binne’s hellish laugh. It drew their attention to the macabre scene just in time to watch the would-be hero fall from Binne’s arms like a rag doll, neck bent at a right angle to his body.

Here out of morbid curiosity, it was only now that the crowd realized they were in danger and pandemonium ensued. What started out as a case of nosy thrill seeking neighbors scurrying to the site of an explosion, turned into a life threatening mob scene. Men, women and children screamed and cried as they tripped and fell over one another trying to escape an unknown threat. Only a few had actually witnessed Binnemon’s attack on the bobbie. His enraged comrades moved to capture Binne and found themselves battling for their own lives.
~~~

When Giles and Leah reached the scene, the police barricades were up. Although Giles was Headmaster, he still had to present his ID to pass. No one seemed to know what had actually happened although everyone was offering opinions ranging from earthquake, bomb or maybe an electrical surge. Knowing no more than they did when they got there, they asked to be directed to the person in charge. The guard pointed at the window. Arthur and Carruthers were in the bucket.

Leah poked Giles and gestured to Buffy at the barricade waving her arms. The guard was refusing her entrance. Giles asked Leah to remain where she was to flag down Arthur and get details. Then he hurried over to the guard to arrange for Buffy to be granted admittance.

Giles took the moment to bring Buffy current on what they surmised had happened, quick to reinforce that what he said was pure conjecture. He explained that they would have to wait to hear from those involved what actually happened.

Together, they watched as Dawn clung to Xander when they stepped into the bucket to be transported back to the ground. Before Buffy could say anything, Leah came over and whispered to Buffy that Dawn was certainly in shock and needed to go to the Emergency vehicle. Leah volunteered to stay with her to oversee her care. Deferring to Leah’s judgement, Buffy stepped back and helped clear the way for the gurney.

With Dawn settled and Leah reassuring them that she was in good hands, Giles and Buffy turned to Xander for explanations. Constantly making backward glances to the emergency vehicle where Dawn was being treated, Xander fell into “Watcherspeak.” Dry and dull. Only the facts. Utterly without emotion. Giles was rapt.

Buffy knew she would have to wait to hear the real story. The one with colors and sounds, fear and … laughter. She was satisfied that Dawn was safe and if she understood the bland description he gave, Dawn … her sister …the key … used powers of which she was totally unaware, to defend herself against a master vampire. Powers that interrupted electric service for miles around, shattered windows, caused car wrecks and who knew what else. Just a tad overkill. This power was something they were going to have to learn about … and soon.

Xander’s voice droned on and Buffy’s mind wandered. Content that Dawn was safe and sound, she realized that she hadn’t seen Spike. She glanced up to the window that had been the focus of attention just a short time ago expecting to see Spike waiting for the bucket. It would be just like him to catch a ride in the cool machine … but the bucket hadn’t gone back up. There was no one else to rescue.

Xander reached the end of his report and Giles thanked him and advised that he get it all down on paper as soon as possible while it was all still fresh in his mind. Buffy caught Xander’s eye and said, “Where’s Spike?”

Before he could answer, they heard the commotion coming round from the other side of the building. People screaming and running from the unmistakable roar of a pissed off vampire. Buffy sprang into action and ran to the familiar sound, expecting to find Spike close on the heels of the bad guy and at the same time reaching for a stake in the pocket of her hoodie.

Like a sharpshooter sighting her prey, Buffy locked onto Binnemon. She’d seen MacGregor, but no Spike yet. With all the speed she could muster, she ran to catch up to the vampire. She was amazed how anything with that amount of bulk could move so fast. Her muscles burned and her breath was coming hard. She had to act fast. “Hey,” she yelled. “You! Short, fat and bald! How far you plan on running?”

Binnemon broke stride for only a moment and then continued his sprint.

Okay, this guy doesn’t want to engage … or maybe he’s heard about my snappy patter. She tried to fill her lungs before yelling and even that burned. “You know however far you decide to run, I’m still going to be right behind you.” She lied. She was running out of steam. She couldn’t let him get away. “You might just as well stop now. I’m guessing that even a thing that doesn’t need to breathe needs to get the knots out of his muscles from time to time … you must be binding up pretty bad right now. Too bad you’re not me. I can go for miles and miles and …”

“All right, all right. I’ll stop! Just shut the fuck up.”

Buffy smiled. I can always wear them down. “What? You don’t like talking to THE SLAYER? That’s right, fat man. You’re going to be dusted by the top banana.” Buffy watched as her words hit home. This so called master vampire was an amateur … a poser.
She just had to wait. This one would kill himself.

The air fell silent around them. Night sounds disappeared. None of the crowd had been able to keep up. Only she, MacGregor, and Binnemon had made it this far. MacGregor stood by, watching … learning.

Binnemon said, “You done talkin’?”

Buffy didn’t answer.

“You little bitch, who do you think you are anyway. Look at you. Shit! All I have to do is sit on you and you’re history.” Binnemon tried to sound menacing, but it was lost in his brogue. He just sounded silly.

Buffy held her tongue. She stood, relaxed, in slayer stance, waiting. Binnemon fired what he thought were terrifying threats … he truly had no idea who he was dealing with. Buffy just held her ground. The moment came faster than she thought. Binnemon lost his patience, he wasn’t into mind games and Buffy had learned from the best. He drew himself up, roared and lunged at Buffy. MacGregor braced to jump into the foray … but it wasn’t necessary. Binnemon ran full force at her believing that his size alone would tumble Buffy and give him the upper hand. Buffy never flinched, never moved … simply stood her ground … stake raised at the last moment when it was too late for Binne to change course. The short, fat, bald and stupid vampire ran right into the stake that Buffy held firmly. Time stood still as Binne’s face froze in disbelief just before it dissolved in a plume of ash.

Buffy coughed and spit, brushing the remains of one Eamon Binnemon, pathetic vampire from her hair, face and clothes. MacGregor went to join Buffy. He was speechless.

Buffy saw his look of concern and said, “It’s OK, Mac. I’m fine. Thanks for having my back.”

“Right. What now?” MacGregor asked.

Buffy smiled. “Now … we sit down and catch my breath.”

~~~

Inspector Arthur and Carruthers were close on Binne’s heels when Buffy joined the chase. Giles reached them and explained that ordinary weapons would be useless. Just then a Police van and driver pulled up and beckoned to Arthur and Carruthers to jump in. Arthur yelled, “Come along, Mr. Giles. Maybe you can help us understand what is going on.”

They sped along but lost sight of Buffy. Giles told them to just keep going in the same direction. It was unlikely they would veer off course. It was a chance worth taking. “Hopefully, your headlights will help illuminate things in the distance.” No sooner did he say that then the streetlights came on.

“Thank God,” Giles said. “Buffy works mostly on instinct, but night vision isn’t necessarily a slayer power.”

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to adjust to this paranormal discussion. After being witness to what happened at the dorm, it was a leap he had to take. “These powers you speak of …”

“Yes,” Giles was eager to help. “Well, the slayer has supernatural strength and agility … She often has senses that allow her to be aware of vampire presence without necessarily seeing them.” As he spoke, he frantically scanned the area. “There is some history of some having enhanced hearing and vision, but these things seem to be individualized. As I said, Buffy works mostly on instinct. A good deal of her … um … methods … are unorthodox … but she gets the job done.” Then, with great pride, he said, “She is, after all, the only slayer in history to live into adulthood.” Suddenly, he erupted in excitement, “There!” Giles pointed out the window. “There they are! Stop. Stop the van.” They were
about thirty yards from the action.

Carruthers said, “I can pull closer.”

“No. Leave her be. I think she’s got the situation under control. We’re close enough to intervene if necessary. Open the windows, perhaps we can hear them.”

Carruthers looked at Arthur for guidance. Arthur nodded and the automatic windows opened. They could hear bits of the exchange between Buffy and Binnemon and watched as Binne charged at Buffy while she stood fast. The streetlights provided just enough light to illuminate the end of Binnemon.

Carruthers gasped, “Holy Christ!”

Giles smiled and said, “Now, we can get out of the van.”

Buffy and MacGregor were involved in a conversation as Giles and the others approached. “Inspector, hello!” She grinned. “Got a cliché for you … about a picture and a thousand words.”

The inspector shrugged and said, “I suspect the hardest part of this investigation is … how in hell am I going to write up this report.” Carruthers stifled a laugh under a cough..

Buffy stood up, brushing dust and dew from her pants, “OK, so, job’s done Giles, where’s Spike? It’s not like him to miss this kind of fun. What kind of wild goose chase have you sent him on?”

Giles was about to speak when he was interrupted by the arrival of another police van; this one carrying Xander, Dawn and Leah. Xander jumped out and went straight to Giles. Breathless, he said, “Once we got Dawnie checked out and Leah was satisfied that she was basically OK, we couldn’t hang around and wait to find out what happened … So, what happened?”

Again, Giles opened his mouth to speak; this time interrupted by Buffy. “Never mind that. We can fill you in on this anytime. The last time I saw Spike he was going out with you, Xander. Where’s Spike?”

Xander was on the spot as all eyes were on him. When no quick answer came, the atmosphere grew tense. “Xander? What’s going on? Where’s Spike?”

His head lowered and his voice barely above a whisper, he said … “You don’t know? …
You don’t know.”

Through clenched teeth Buffy said, “What don’t I know, Xander?”

Xander scanned the group, hopefully buying time to find the right words. When he finally realized there were no right words, he blurted out, “He’s gone, Buffy. I’m so sorry, but … well … he must be gone.”

Buffy stood straight, silent, rigid. The color drained from her face as she allowed the words to sink in. Then, collecting herself, she spoke quietly, carefully, “Xander, tell me what happened.”

The others were curious as well. Giles spoke up, “I’m sorry, I’ve missed something here. Xander, is there a problem with Spike?”

Xander nodded, “There was an accident. We were just walking and then there was the explosion. We both went kaplooey. When I shook it off and found my wits I looked for Spike. He’d been thrown against one of the park benches and the bench broke, you know?” He looked around at each of them again. “I … I guess it was a wooden bench and it … um … staked Spike. He didn’t look good at all.”

Buffy’s face was frozen. Giles said, “And you left him … without helping him?”

“There was nothing I could do. Spike told me to go. He said that Buffy would be there any second. He was sure you would find him.” Xander hung his head. “I was sure you would find him too.” He raised his head and said, “He told me to go help Dawn.”

Buffy took a deep breath and said, “Where is he? Take us there, Xander. Now, please.”

Arthur and Carruthers were standing by. Arthur said, “Hurry, get in the vans. We’ll take you.” After what he’d just seen, he wasn’t going to miss this. He turned to Xander, “Can you direct us to the scene?”

Xander answered, hesitant, “Yeah sure …”

Arthur interrupted and said, “Good, you ride with me.”

Then Xander finished what he’d started to say, “ … but I don’t think we’re going to find him.”

~~~

Chapter 40 ~ Rescue

In the back seat of the van, the Inspector whispered to Giles, “What is she saying? Is she praying?”

Arthur was referring to Buffy’s lips moving in a silent mantra. Sitting on the edge of her seat, her face so close to the windshield her breath steamed the window, she scanned the view for the first glimpse of Spike.

Giles sighed and then answered, “I suppose you might call it a prayer. You saw with your own eyes what happens to vampires when they … die.” He was quiet for a moment and then went on, quoting the funereal admonition, “ ‘Remember man that thou art dust and unto dust you shall return.’ Vampires are animated dead flesh until they are beheaded, exposed to sunlight or stabbed through the heart with a wooden stake ... Oh, and they are extremely flammable. If I understood Xander correctly, the blast caused Spike to be impaled by a park bench.”

“Impaled? Well then, he must be dead, er … dust.”

“And that is Buffy’s mantra, ‘Not dust, not dead.’ If the wound didn’t kill him outright, there is a chance that he has only sustained a serious injury. She is clinging to Xander’s words and hoping she’ll get there in time.”

Suddenly, Xander cried out, “There he is!” His finger pointing to the right. On reflex, Xander grabbed Buffy to keep her from jumping out of the van before it stopped.

Carruthers swung the van to the right and slammed the brakes, leaving his headlights directed at Spike. Before alighting from the car, he activated the search light and aimed it in his direction as well.

“Good Lord,” said Giles. Just as Xander had said, Spike was skewered by a park bench. It looked as though the board protruding from his chest was supporting his weight. His arms and legs rested at odd angles and he was no longer pale, but a bluish gray … an exsanguinated corpse.

Carruthers bluntly observed, “He’s dead. He has to be.”

Buffy said, “No, he’s not.” She squared her shoulders and went to him. The others followed. As she got a closer look, she sucked in her breath, overcome by what she saw. With sunken eyes, Spike’s cheekbones were even more prominent with deep hollows beneath. His lips were dry, stained with blood and his mouth slack. Blood pooled in his ear. It had dried where it ran down his neck. The front of his shirt glistened with soaked blood and a jagged two by four with tissue and blood clinging protruded from his chest. A great pool of blood congealed under him.

She fought the urge to run to him. The rest: Giles, Leah, Xander, Dawn, MacGregor, Carruthers, Arthur and members of the tactical squad that had responded to the blast and accompanied the group on Arthur’s orders, waited and watched.

“Slayer,” said Spike.

“I’m here,” she said.

“Caught the villain … Good girl … Smelled the dust in the wind. You OK?” There was agony in his voice as he paused between each phrase.

“Don’t talk, baby.” Buffy said, her voice catching. She realized her folly as soon as the words left her mouth. Spike loved talking, thrived on it.

“Didn’t think I’d … ,” Spike was interrupted by Leah pushing ahead and taking charge.

“Spike, how can we help you?” Leah asked.

His eyes flew open and he raised his brows, “Arrrrgh … Christ, even that hurts.” It was obvious he wanted to yell but didn’t have the strength or breath. “Obvious ain’t it? Get this fucking tree out of my chest!”

Refusing to rise to his sarcasm, Leah replied, “Yes. Any suggestions as to how? Have you any idea of the size of this thing? It’s not your typical stake, Spike.”

“Cheeky bitch ... And it’s splintered. When I try to move, shards rub against my heart. I’m fucking dying in bits.”

Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth. She started to run to Spike.

“NO! Don’t touch me, luv.”

Buffy pulled up short and wailed, “Spike, I’ve got to do something.”

Leah raised her hand as though to gain control of the situation. By this time, the others had gotten over their initial shock and moved in. Eager to help, it started to look like too many cooks … She said, “I’ve looked over the situation and I have an idea. It’s simple, but I really think we have no other choice.”

Spike shifted his eyes to her. He didn’t dare turn his head. “If it has anything to do with shoving kilos of bandage into my chest, like you did with my bits, you can forget it. I’d rather die. Just give me a mo’ to kiss my lady goodbye.”

He gestured with his fingers for Buffy to come to him. The motion of his hand shifted the thing in his chest. Screaming with pain, he lost control of his visage and could no longer control his true face. Shocked, Carruthers and Inspector Arthur stepped back and the squad, acknowledging the danger, stepped forward, raising their weapons.

Giles was dumbfounded. “You fools!” He yelled, “You really think he’s a threat?”

Arthur said, “Stand down.” The soldiers backed away.

Buffy paid no attention to this little side drama. She couldn’t hear anything after Spike said he’d rather die. She stamped her foot and wiped tears and snot from her face and stormed to Spike’s side. “Don’t you DARE, say that. You will NOT give up. How dare you? After all we’ve been through? You would even consider giving up?” Buffy was shaking with anger. “Kiss you? I should stake you myself. God knows it’s not the first time I wanted to.”

The onlookers gasped.

Spike’s lips lifted in a smile, “There’s my girl.”

Giles stepped forward and gently rested his hand against Leah’s back to gain her attention. He merely nodded and she understood it was time for her to explain what must be done.

In her “doctor voice” Leah said, “Right then. MacGregor, you are the strongest of our party so I’ll need…”

Giles spoke up, “I beg your pardon. Buffy ~ The Slayer ~ is the strongest member of this party.’

Spike said, “I’ll second that. Then again, she never could kill me, but that’s a discussion for another time.”

Leah smiled. “I’m impressed with your bravado, Spike, but I have another job in mind for Buffy.” Then she turned cold eyes on Giles and said, “Don’t interrupt me again.”

Shuffling of feet and raised eyebrows signaled unease with the awkward moment.

“MacGregor!” Leah shouted. “Front and center. Buffy, you too. The rest of you, stand by and keep still.” Leah took advantage of the moment of silence to glare at the gathering to ensure control. Giles glared back.

“I told you this was simple. MacGregor, you go behind Spike. You will be pulling the board out. Buffy, you go and take Spike in your arms. Hold onto him as firmly as you can. It is vital that this be done in a fluid motion. Any hesitation is liable to allow a fragment of wood to dislodge. A well placed toothpick can kill a vampire.”

Giles had had enough. “Uh huh. That’s enough. I don’t think it was necessary for you to share that last bit.”

Leah and Buffy spoke together, almost as if rehearsed, “Shut up, Giles.”

“Let’s get this thing done, then. MacGregor, take your position. Don’t touch the board until I tell you to. Buffy, go ahead to Spike. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to be gentle.” Buffy tried to smile. She wiped away the tears that still flowed silently down her cheeks, nodded and walked to Spike.

“Slayer.”

“Where can I touch you?”

“An odd question, luv.” He smiled through his cracked, dry lips.”

“Spike, this is serious. I can’t believe you are being such a perv at a moment like this.”

“It’s a defense, Buffy. Allow me my survival tools. Now come close. Don’t touch yet. Maybe you could straddle me and put both arms under my arms. When MacGregor pulls, hold tight. Right?”

“That it?”

“Just one more thing….”

Buffy searched his face. “Anything, what is it?”

Spike lifted his eyes and met hers. “ I love you”

A sob caught in her throat, “… and I love you.” It was enough.

Leah, who had been having a “discussion” with Giles, stepped away and said, “All right! Let’s do it. I will say, ‘one, two, three, pull.’ When I say that I will establish a rhythm. You two must hear it and feel it so that when I say it, MacGregor you will pull and Buffy, you will hold tight to keep Spike steady. Do you both understand perfectly? Speak up now, because if you don’t, things might not go smoothly.” She took a breath and looked for the questioning glances or perhaps raised hands.

“We’re good then?”

Buffy and MacGregor nodded. Spike said, “For God’s sake, get on with it. I need a drink.”

Giles huffed, “Quite.”

A low anticipatory growl emanated from Spike’s throat.

“Here we go then. One … Two … Three … PULL!”

MacGregor and Buffy did exactly as they were told. The pulling of the board created a huge sucking sound as it came out of Spike’s chest, with a gush of serum and coagulated blood following. Spike howled a wounded animal sound, awful and sorrowful.

Spike did not burst into dust, but sank to the seat of what was left of the bench while Buffy still held him to her. A cheer went up from the onlookers. A moment later, he wrapped his arms around her. Then to everyone’s horror, he grabbed her hair and brutally pulled her head to the side. In the full glare of headlights and spotlights, Spike roared and buried his fangs in Buffy’s neck.

The attack was terrifying to the uninformed, disturbing to those who understood. Arthur raised his arm and suddenly, the clicking of assault rifles being locked and loaded broke the silence.

Giles ran in front of them, waving his arms, “No! For pity’s sake, stop!

The squad looked to Inspector Arthur whose mouth was hanging open as he stared at the scene before him. He watched as Buffy placed her hand behind Spike’s head and pulled him closer. She was whispering to Spike as he drank her blood. It was ghastly and erotic and seemed to go on forever.

When Giles couldn’t take anymore, he stepped forward and cleared his throat and said, “Ahem, um … Spike, I think it must be alright for you to be moved now, don’t you think?”

Xander and Dawn stepped forward to help. Spike needed to reinforce his “Big Bad” image … there were strangers watching … “Sod off. Do I look like I need help?”

The answer may have been obvious, but no one was willing to say it.



Spike took a moment to carefully inspect the bite marks. He licked them clean and watched for further bleeding while his face shifted. When satisfied he said, “You OK, Slayer?”

Buffy shook her hair out and pulled her collar up around her neck. She answered, “Yeah, you?”

“I’ll do. Let’s go home.”

~~~

Many thanks to betas: nightshift and cloviss

Chapter 41 ~ Aftermath

Arthur sent the tech squad back to the scene of the blast. He and Carruthers drove Spike, Buffy and Leah while the others walked the short distance to the cottage. Buffy and Leah took Spike to the bathroom where Buffy helped Spike into the shower and then Leah treated his wound. Inspector Arthur began picking up the broken china on the floor while Carruthers attempted to mend the broken door. Still in awe of the things they’d seen and heard in the last few hours, they couldn't help but want to stick around to see what happens next.

By the time the others straggled in, Spike was settled in the overstuffed chair with a cup of warm seasoned blood. Leah made coffee and set tea to steep as Buffy took what was left of the china to set out cups, saucers, and plates for the leftover desserts. She thought, Weirdness is no excuse to be a bad hostess. I wonder if they teach Slayer Etiquette here?


With the fire crackling and the drapes pulled tight against the chill November night, the room was cozy until Giles, Xander, Dawn and MacGregor burst in causing the curtains to flutter. “Oo-oo-oh that fire feels good,” said Xander as he went to warm his hands at the fireplace dragging the icy chill with him.

Giles piped in with, “I’ll second that,” and followed Xander.

He spotted Spike and was just about to ask how he was doing when Spike shouted, “Oi! Convalescing here. Shut the fucking door.”

Giles smiled and said, “Harrumph! Good to see you looking so fit, Spike.”

Spike gave him a sidelong snarl, “Mmmm,” and reached for his glass.

Buffy offered, “Tea?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Giles and then went on, “With a generous dollop of single malt in the tea.” Then, as an afterthought, “ … and another on the side.”

Spike should have just gone to bed, but he wanted to listen to the debriefing first hand. “Drink my good Scotch, Rupes, but drink it neat. You want flavoring for your tea, use somebody else’s cheap swill.”

“Quite right, Spike. I apologize to you and your Scotch. Join me? Or is that the seasoning in your mug?”

Spike’s sly smile was sufficient.

Affronted, Giles said, “No single malt in my tea but you’re adding it to blood? Good Lord!”

“It’s my Scotch. I’ll do what I please,” Spike said as he tossed back the last of this mug and held it up to Buffy for a refill. The effort was too much and Spike was overcome with a fit of coughing. He wiped his mouth. The cloth came away covered in blood. “Guess I can expect this to happen for awhile, eh?” His question was directed to Leah.

She went to him and examined the cloth. “With your vampire healing, Spike, not more than a day or two,” she said, returning the cloth.

“Well, that’s good news. Seen too many like that back in the day.”

Giles raised his head as though a thought just popped into his head. “Leah, I have a question.”

“Oh?”

“Spike has had two serious injuries of late.”

Leah nodded, “Yes,” and wondered where this was going.

“His … um, previous wound took weeks to heal with daily dressing changes and who knows what all. You raised all sorts of concerns regarding his quality of life in the future and generally give us all … well, shivers. This time, he has a hole through his chest I can put my fist through and you’re telling us he’ll be right as rain in a few days.” He scanned the group and then with a smug look said, “As Buffy would say, ‘What’s up with that?’”

Spike sat forward, the movement causing him to grimace. With a flash of yellow in his eyes, he fixed his gaze on Leah and said, “Yeah. What is up with that?”

Leah looked astounded.

“Coming back every day, sometimes twice a day, flippin’ me over to fiddle with my bits? Liked it, did you?” He lowered his eyes, “You’re not the first.”

Xander could take no more. “Your “bits” aren’t all that special, Spike. I know.”

Spike winked at Buffy and gave Xander a saucy smile, “Now don’t go givin’ away secrets, Harris.”

“Hey, cut that out!” Xander shouted. “You know perfectly well what I mean …” He raised his brows and opened his eyes wide, “When I plucked your nuts from the claws of the gnarvole? Huh? Remember that, Spikey?”

“I’ll never tell”

Everyone was giggling by now. Xander blushed as he realized Spike was pulling his leg. “Well, his bits are nothing special is all I’m sayin.’”

Spike got in the final word when he said, “Just ask Buffy.”

Buffy stepped up, “All right! That’s it. The food is ready on the table. Come get something to eat. There’s plenty of leftovers.”

With that, the tittering ended and they fixed plates and drinks before settling into a favorite spot to share their stories.

Giles spoke, “Just one more thing, Leah? You haven’t answered the question.”

“Thank you, Mr. Giles,” she said in a stiff sarcastic tone. She shouldn't have to defend herself. “It’s really very simple, children. The gnarvole introduced foreign secretions into Spike’s wound. It required special treatment to encourage healing without contamination.”

Carruthers couldn’t resist an opportunity to be part of the discussion. “Surely an old piece of wood from a park bench would cause contamination? There’s not much that could be dirtier.”

Leah smiled, “One would think that were true, sergeant, but dirt … in all its forms..." She noticed raised eyebrows as visuals appeared in thier minds eyes. Slyly, she said, " Yes ... all it's forms ... is quite natural to a vampire. They’re already dead, you see. They were buried and had begun the process of decay before they clawed themselves out of the grave A vampire can handle any sort of human bacteria or virus easily. Other demons, not so much.” It was her turn to look smug. “Now, aren’t you all embarrassed by your dirty little minds?”

With one voice, they said, “No.”

With the foolishness out of the way, they began the debriefing. One by one they outlined the evening’s events, asking questions and offering suggestions embellishing one another’s tales. Giles appointed himself recording secretary and final authority on the completed report. Inspector Arthur and Carruthers, by now comfortably known as David and Jack absorbed all the information and asked advice as to how to present it to their superiors.

Buffy laughed and said, “No worries David. We’ve been making bizarre tales palatable to the unknowing masses for so long, we’re experts at making the strangest happenings seem like business as usual. Apart from dealing with a few raised eyebrows and scratched heads, you should both come away clean.”

Arthur smiled weakly and said, “I certainly hope so … just in case, are there any openings in this Council of yours?”

Giles clicked Arthur’s glass and said, “I’m sure something could be arranged, Inspector. If absolutely necessary..”

Buffy never moved very far from Spike’s side, keeping his mug filled and petting him whenever he’d let her touch him. It was obvious to all that Spike was edgy and imaginations were brewing all sorts of scenarios ranging from the imminent death of Spike to his attacking them. Collectively, they accepted that Buffy was the only one he wanted near him and began gathering their things and bidding goodnight. MacGregor left first. Buffy thanked him again for having her back when she went after Binnemon and a sullen Spike said, “I owe you. It should’ve been me.”

Arthur and Carruthers invited MacGregor to join them for a pint at the pub.

Buffy collected blankets and pillows from the closet and began to set them out on the couch. “I’m afraid this is the best I can do, Dawn, on short notice. The extra blankets should keep you warm and I’ll check the fire through the night. OK?”

Xander, voice barely audible, said, “Actually, Dawn said she’d rather stay with me tonight.” All eyes went to Dawn. She stood next to Xander watching his face as he spoke. She said nothing; acknowledged no one.

Buffy stopped fussing and turned to her sister slowly, “Dawn?”

Xander snickered nervously and put his arm around Dawn’s shoulder, pulling her to him, “C’mon guys, it’s been one hell of a night. A makeshift bed on a couch in a room with no window isn’t likely to make a gal feel safe, huh? I’ve got the room and she won’t be alone.”

Spike answered, “And she won’t be alone here.”

Dawn avoided eye contact and remained silent. Shifting his feet, Xander said, “Yeah Spike, you may not realize it, but when you and Buffy are together you kinda make other people feel like they’re not there. Dawn doesn’t want to be alone. Can’t you get that?”

Buffy reached for Dawn who pulled away and turned into Xander’s shoulder effectively shutting her out. “Dawnie?” Buffy reached out again. Dawn’s response was to cling even tighter to Xander. Buffy looked around the room hoping to gain some input from anyone. Was she the only one confused here?

Spike said, “Buffy …?”

Giles broke in, “Um, yes ….”

Buffy raised her voice, firm and angry, “Yes, what?”

“This whole event has been a terrible shock and I suspect we’re being insensitive to how deeply Dawn has been effected by it,” Giles suggested. “Perhaps staying with Xander is the best thing for her tonight.”

“Giles! How can you say that?” Buffy pleaded.

“Buffy, Dawn is a grown woman. Like it or not, she is free to seek solace whenever and with whomever she wishes. This particular set of unusual circumstances including post-traumatic stress, cold, unsafe nighttime lodgings … not to mention having to settle for a couch …”

“All right … all right!” Buffy huffed. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.” Buffy shifted and stood with her hand on her hip. “What I don’t get it why Dawn is …. Is shunning me.”

There were no comments, because everyone was in the same boat. No one understood.

Dawn slowly pushed away from Xander and turned to Buffy. Her eyes were red and swollen with puddles rising and rolling from her eyes and down her cheeks. She stepped forward, put her arms around Buffy, tighter than Buffy ever remembered, and said, “I love you, Buffy. I do.” She turned abruptly and said to Xander, “Let’s get out of here.” She pulled Xander’s hand and started for the door. Xander glanced around with an apology on his face and followed.

Giles stepped up, “Wait, wait, Xander. Oh, this is awkward … can you give us a lift? My car is in a ditch somewhere and we have no way home.”

“Um, sure. How far is Leah’s place? I may need to stop for gas.”

Leah answered, “No need, Giles and I have some things to discuss so you can just drop me at his place. I’m sure he can get one of the guards to drive me home later. That’s all right with you, isn’t it, Rupert?”

“Oh!” said Giles, raising his brows. “Yes, yes ... yes! Quite all right. We’ll be off then. Buffy, Spike, thanks for your hospitality. I just get our coats.”

And then, the Slayer and her vampire were alone, listening to their guests making their way to the car.

Spike raised his mug for a refill and Buffy took it and said, “Think I’ll join you.” She prepared a mug for Spike, poured a merlot for herself, stoked the fire and put on another log before settling on the arm of Spike’s chair. They sat, linked to one another as much as his wounds would allow watching the fire.

~~~

The GQ, Gentleman’s Quarters, housed the Watcher Wannabees. Each school had several young men training to be Watchers. It made sense to have them training with the young slayers and when Giles had the opportunity to create his perfect world, he made it so; far better to have the Watchers fully aware of the girls, their capabilities and their foibles. Victorian notions of propriety were placed back where they belonged, in the Nineteenth Century.

They had the top floor of a great stone edifice that was thought to be one of the original buildings on the property. The rooms were large and retrofitted with gas burners in the old iron fireplaces and electricity with discretely covered wiring running along the baseboards and crown molding. These modern day extras did little to dull the charm of stone walls, fine paneling and colorful tapestries. It was doubtful that any of the gentlemen would have chosen this nearly medieval décor, but since their lodgings were free, there were few complaints.

Xander’s rooms, or room, if put more accurately, was huge. It was a corner room, which was choice, giving him a view of the campus and the surrounding hills. In summer it was well ventilated, but in winter … now … it was a nightmare. The little gas fireplace kept the ceiling warm … and his feet, if he put them on the grill. But the thing that truly made the room a gem was that it had a walk in closet, with built in drawers and racks for hanging items. It was also outfitted with an old fashioned velvet sofa for a gentleman’s comfort while changing.

Upon moving in, the first thing Xander did was move the sofa into the large room and his bed into the closet making it a suite. When his first winter came, his next big project was to go out and buy a ceiling fan to bring some of that heat down. It was altogether a wonderful arrangement. The only drawback was that there were shared bathroom facilities. Since the watchers had staggered schedules, there was seldom a conflict … until tonight.

Xander unlocked his door and guided Dawn in. In fact, he’d led her every step since they left the cottage. She didn’t speak. It was if she were sleepwalking or something and it creeped him out! Xander was often accused of talking too much. His accusers would have a field day tonight. The longer she was silent, the more he rambled.

“There’s a bed in there, Dawnie. That’s for you. I have my recliner here. That’s where I’ll sleep. I sleep there a lot. Not by design,” he laughed nervously, “I just doze off when I should be studying.” More nervous laughter, “I guess you know how that goes, huh?”

No answer.

“Right. OK then, um … Oh! You’ll want to know where the bathroom is. Right! OK … come with me then.” They left the room and Xander knocked on the door across the hall.

“What are you doing? I don’t want to see anyone.” Dawn said.

“She speaks! I was starting to worry there, Dawn. I thought you went somewhere else!”

“I did,” she answered, deadpan.

Giggle. “Uh huh!” He took a minute to try to absorb that, decided not to try and went on. “Um, no, I just want to tell the other guys that there’s a lady on the floor.” He waited a moment. There was no answer. “Of course!” he said, nodding his head. “They’re still at the scene … probably getting the girls settled in new digs. That’s what I should be doing, I guess.” The moment it left his lips, he realized his mistake.

Dawn raised her eyes to his.

“And … I’m here getting you settled,” he bubbled! “And after all, it all started with …” Silence. “Shut up Xander, just shut up,” he said outloud and then took his own advice. He directed Dawn back to the facilities without another word.

“This is the bathroom, Dawn.” He knocked first. No answer. He opened the door. “There’s one seat and one shower. Just lock the door when you come in and you’ll be fine. I’ll post on note on the other guy's doors. OK?”

No answer. “Right.”

They walked back to Xander’s room. “Just let me get some things out of the closet and the bedroom is yours.” Dawn stood where he left her. Expressionless.

Xander came out with an armful of sweatshirts and flannels. He offered a set to Dawn. “They’ll be huge on you, but at least you can get out of your own things and rest comfortably.” Dawn took the clothes, went into the room and closed the door without another word.”

Xander took a deep breath and said, “Well, yes! Goodnight to you too.” He said to the closed door. He changed quickly, lest Dawn come back out. He wore layers, a scarf and a hat. He didn’t have any extra blankets and the room would be freezing by morning. He glanced at his watch, “… in three hours.” He pulled the wool cap over his ears and climbed into his recliner, closed his eyes and promptly went to sleep.

~~~

Giles lay in his bed staring at the ceiling, the sleeping, lightly snoring, naked form of Leah Graham wrapped around him. He had a cramp in his leg, a kink in his neck and he desperately had to pee, but he was terrified of moving and waking her. He cleared his throat, and Leah made an unintelligible sound, pulled him closer and slid her hand down below his navel. Oh God … Giles froze. A moment later, Leah’s breathing became even again and the gentle snore resumed. Giles relaxed.

Giles and I have some things to discuss. He searched his mind to find any words that had passed between them, let alone a discussion. Xander and Dawn dropped them off, bid farewell and sped down the driveway to Xander’s quarters. Giles remembered, I closed the door, turned around and was just about to offer Leah a glass of wine when suddenly she was all over me. With one hand she was pulling off my jacket and with the other undoing my pants. Not that it was unpleasant, but … I usually like a little foreplay …this reminded me of my Ripper days.

Leah stirred, “Rupert,” she muttered as she stroked his legs with her own. “I’m sorry, I seem to have dozed off.” Her fingers worked their magic over his flesh.

“Just give me a moment.” Giles slipped out of bed. He returned in a moment, opened his nightstand drawer, pulled out a foil packet .

Leah saw it and said, “Oh, give it to me! I know a special way to put it on.”

~~~~

Xander’s dreams were vivid, Technicolor jumbles of experiences and ideas dating all the way back to Sunnydale complete with Dolby soundtrack. Sometimes they were puzzles, sometimes instant replays, sometimes lessons and occasionally prophetic. Tonight, something new, smellovision? Snapshots with aromas that brought him right back to the moment. Pancakes … an ocean breeze … Coppertone … popcorn … fresh cut grass … coffee … a graveyard … rain … snow … wind … cold … Cold. God! I’m freezing

Instantly, he snapped to! Yeah, OK … Dawn’s here. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus … An eerie light filtered into the room … green? What the …? Where’s it coming from? Xander sat up, ran his hand over his face and took a deep breath. I don’t smell anything now … Xander stood and listened. Out loud, he said, “Shit, what the fuck is going on?” He waved his hand in the air; it made the green light swirl. Frustrated and dismayed, he ran his hand through his hair, rubbed his face again, shook his head to rid himself of the cobwebs. When he looked again, it was gone.

~~~

X-posted: Spuffy-fics, Spike_fics, captured_kiss, The Spuffy Realm, The Fonts of Wisdom, The Crypt, Elysian Fields