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52. What are friends for?


“You’re getting a promotion and a raise. And so am I.”

“What’s that Jonathan? Aren’t you a little old to go to the Prom?”

“Not Prom you nitwit, I said promotion. As in a better job. Both of us.” Jonathan stuck his head into the bedroom the two of them shared, but it was empty. “Where are you Andrew? I need to tell you what’s happened.”

“I’m in here Jonathan. In Warren’s old room,” the blonde stuck his head out the door down the hall and waved at his friend.

His first thought was that they’d both be in big trouble if Warren caught them in his room, before he remembered that Warren wasn’t likely to cause problems for them anymore. Still, it was an odd place for the other man to be. “What’re you doing in there?” Jonathan puzzled.

“Warren called, and asked me to pack his things. He’s gonna send someone over to pick them up later.”

“Well, then you’d better put them down outside the gate then. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. With Warren gone, Spike, I mean Thorndale, needs some new to head up security. That someone is me and you.”

“Me? Jonathan, I don’t know anything about security. Mostly I’m just a glorified housekeeper. Like Mr. Belvedere, or, like Jeffrey from Fresh Prince.”

“Yeah, well not any more. Thorndale said he didn’t want to hire someone he didn’t already know. So we’re it. Between the two of us, we watched most of what Warren did. I mean, I have so ideas of what to do. We’ll manage. And the first order of business is that Warren is not getting back inside this house ever again, for any reason. I already called the locksmith to change all the locks and combinations in the house. I’m serious, Andrew. If Warren wants his stuff back, he’s gonna have to pick it up from outside the grounds."

“He’s gonna be mad, Jonathan. I’ll tell him you made me.”

“Fine. Whatever. So long as he doesn’t get back on the grounds.” Jonathan finally looked at the odd assortment of stuff Andrew had spread out on the bed. “What is all this stuff, anyway?”

“Women’s clothes,” Andrew giggled. “I mean, who ever would have thought Warren would have all this freaky stuff in the back of his closet? I wonder what he did with it.”

“I don’t care. He hurt Buffy, and that’s all I need to know. She was always nice to me, even back in high school when I was the class zero. Give him back his stuff if he wants it, but you’re not to see him again, Andrew. It’s too dangerous. I thought he was our friend, but he’s not. And he’s liable to do anything to get back at Spike. No matter who he has to hurt in order to do it; including us.”

“If you say so, Jonathan. Still, I don’t think Warren would ever do anything really, you know, bad.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention. The next thing we need to do is wait until Spike goes out and get rid of the cameras in his bedroom. All Warren’s tapes need to go too. We should burn them. I don’t want Spike to ever find out we knew about any of this. In the mood he’s in now, we’d be lucky if all he did was fire us. This is our chance, Andrew. Our chance to show how smart we are. Let’s not screw it up.”

“If you say so,” Andrew prevaricated. “Do you think maybe we could keep one or two of the tapes? Just, you know, to watch in private?”

“No. No way. It all goes. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Spoil sport. Do you think Warren would miss it if I kept one of his girlie outfits?”

“I don’t care what you do with his stuff. I’d just as soon burn it all too, but there’s too much of it.”

“Oooh, how to choose. Do you think I would look good in the blue dress, or should I stick with basic black?”

Shaking his head in disgust and amazement, Jonathan headed off to the records room to gather up the surveillance records that he wanted to destroy. They had gotten away with it until now, so it seemed unlikely that Spike would catch on at this late date, but Jonathan had learned early on that somehow Warren was able to get away with things that he never could. With his luck, Spike would inspect the surveillance room first thing, and he and Andrew would get blamed for Warren’s indiscretions. That was not going to happen. This was the first time he had ever been entrusted with anything really important, and he wasn’t going to screw it up.

~ * ~

At Rayne’s suggestion, the three men met at Glory’s establishment. That way the meeting could be put down to chance, should anyone ever question it. Of the three, Warren was the only one who had never been there. He lacked the funds necessary for the type of high priced hookers Glory employed.

Rayne met them at the bar, setting his whiskey down hard on the table between the two younger men.

“I hear we have interests in common,” he began.

“Somewhat. Warren tells me that you are interested in the girls that Thorndale shelters. I’m interested in Thorndale. So it seems that our interests align but do not coincide or conflict. If I help you destroy the girls, Thorndale suffers. I’m not quite ready to put him out of his misery yet.”

Rayne smiled. “Warren is correct. We do think alike. I too have another target in mind, and the girls are merely a means to an end. It is so much more satisfying, when the pleasure is drawn out as long as possible. When each little twist of the screw hurts just a little bit more, until the man you’ve been plotting against for fifteen long years is finally utterly destroyed, almost hoping for death.”

“Fifteen years? It’s been longer for me. Not that I haven’t had my pieces of revenge over the years. Stealing back his wife – that was nearly enough to drive him over the edge, but not quite. Somehow I don’t think he’ll survive it a second time. And Dawn, if the child is really as dear to him as Warren tells me, that’ll probably be enough right there. You help me get my hands on either of his women, and I’ll make sure that he knows what happens to them. Did I tell you that I already popped the blonde’s cherry? It was years ago, but I am sure that he knows it by now. Sometimes the best laid plans are the longest to come to fruition. But I don’t mind.”

“choSuvchugh ‘oyIlj Daghur neH.” When the other two looked at him like he’d suddenly gone insane, Warren translated the Klingon saying, “Struggling only makes it hurt more.’’

The random ramblings in Klingon had gotten worse over their short acquaintance. Maybe Warren thought he was impressing someone with the gibberish, but it was hard to tell. Warren was turning out to be a very strange lad – but it seemed like he certainly had his uses.


~ * ~

It only took a few days for Buffy to figure out what Xander had done. Dawn had been sullen and upset for days, but it took her until Sunday to figure it out. Buffy had refused all William’s phone calls and messages, but she still expected Dawn to meet Spike as usual. She had even asked Willow to make sure that she was available to go with the pair to chaperone. She didn’t process what it meant about her feelings that she was willing to let Spike see Dawn at all after what had happened.

Buffy was stunned as the day progressed and not only did William fail to appear, but Dawn didn’t complain about his being late.

“What’s up, Dawnie? You’ve been all bad moody lately.” She hadn’t been feeling too well herself lately, and having to deal with Dawn’s moodiness was just the last straw.

“You’re one to comment. You’ve barely spoken two words to me all week – not even the ones you should have.”

“What do you mean?”

“Spike. I told him that I had other plans this weekend, he didn’t seem surprised. You didn’t tell me about Spike. What he did to you. You were all set to let me just go off with him, and not even warn me!”

Then, in one of those weird twists of logic teenagers are so prone to, Dawn did a complete about face. “Well, you know what? I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that anything happened at all! I think you made the whole thing up.”

“How did you hear about…” A mortified Buffy turned to her best friend, “Willow, you didn’t say anything, did you?”

“No. Neither of you did!” Dawn huffed. “Some protectors you are. It was Xander. He told me all about it. How Spike supposedly put something in your drink …well, I’ve decided that it’s all a lie. You made it up because your relationships with men are so sucky and you don’t even know how to handle the fact that you actually gave up the blushing virgin act long enough for him to touch you, and now you regret it. I’m sorry I even bought your lame excuse for one minute. I’m leaving, and don’t you dare send Willow after me. I’ll get a cab to take me over to Spike’s house. That’s right, I’m going to visit him at his HOUSE. Not some lame safe place like the zoo, with Willow along as a chaperone, as if I were five. I know what you were planning. Well, I’m not going to stand for it. I’m going to his house, because I trust him. And nothing you can say can stop me.”

Staring at the door slammed in their faces, the two girls looked at each other for a few minutes before speaking.

“Well, that went well.”

“You do think she’ll be all right, won’t she? I mean, it’s hard to say what to expect. But if you really think he raped you, shouldn’t we go after her?”

“Now you’re doubting me too? I know what I saw, Willow.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not really acting like it. You claim that he raped you, and then you just calmly sit there and let Dawn go off to find him?”

“I didn’t let Dawn do anything, Willow. She did it. I couldn’t stop her if I tried. Have you missed the fact that she’s taller than me?”

“No, but you’re not even really that upset about it. About what you say happened, or about Dawn leaving to go see him. I mean, you haven’t spoken to a counselor, or a lawyer, and it sure doesn’t look like you’re thinking of pressing charges. Sometimes it is kinda hard to know what is going on in your head.”

“It’s not easy for me either, Willow. I mean, sometimes I really like Spike. I admit, I do. But then other times, times like this, I’m just not sure that he’s trustworthy. I mean, he seems to have a good excuse for everything. But that’s just the problem. If he was really who he appears to be, he wouldn’t need to have excuses. I’m almost afraid to talk to Tara, because I am sure that if I do she’ll tell me whatever pat excuse Spike has this time, and I’m afraid that I’ll fall for it again. That I’ll just accept it because somewhere inside I really want to believe that he is innocent. But really, you’ve got to think that there’s something going on. I mean, the art investigation, New York, the creepy paintings and mysterious journals, to say nothing of those poor dead girls that he conveniently explained away. At the risk of sounding cliché, Giles isn’t far off with his “smoke and fire” remark. I can’t keep on doing this, Willow. It’s killing me.”





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