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Chapter 6

Quentin sat behind his desk in the dark. In front of him sat a thick file of information on the covert multi-governmental operation nicknamed the Initiative. The behavioral modification experiments they had done in the past did not please him. Not because demons like Spike who happened to escape from their clutches did complete their behavioral transformation, but because the operation, the government, and the scientists had no right to meddle into that world. They had no clue into what they were messing with, the power of the balance between demon and mortal. The covenant that the Watchers agreed to should be held in the highest regard. The ability to protect the mortals on this plane should be revered, but it wasn’t. These humans, as technological advanced, as they were, still held no candle to the Watchers Council’s abilities.

The precarious balance between demons and mortals were supervised by a higher power. The prophecies and loopholes written into the works of their fate were carefully orchestrated millenniums ago and should not be meddled with by mere mortals; civilians that had no right, no insight into the bigger picture, no education and training to decipher the deeper meaning behind the words. The mystical pact between the upper and lower worlds to share the paradise known as the Earth was forged years ago, leaving a plane of existence that was balanced with good and evil, light and darkness, mortal and immortal. No one mortal or immortal could maintain the balance of Earth, creating the triumvirate commonly called the Powers-That-Be.

Quentin threw the file across the room, scattering papers and photographs on the floor. Vibes of disgust and frustration flew off the head Watcher in waves. You didn’t have to be clairvoyant to know that one Quentin Travers was angry. The support staff, secretaries and pages, didn’t dare go into the inner sanctum of his.

‘The Initiative,’ Quentin thought bitterly. ‘Armed and trained militia with the intents and purposes to eradicate the demon population from this realm. Damn them! Who did they think they are?’ Quentin grabbed a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer of his desk. Pouring a glass of the stiff liquid, Quentin sat back and thought about the situation around him. The Slayer, her Vampire, and her Watcher trying to make changes they wanted and the new threat of the Initiative. Everything bottled up within him shook violently. Today was not a good day.

~*~*~
Night fell on England once again. The cold wind blew across the nation, closing windows and doors as it swept through the fields. Spike watched the greens in the gardens dance around in the bitter wind. Blowing and cursing around the evergreens the wind tried its best to kill the remaining life on the earth. Spike exhaled smoke and watched the blue/gray pollution dissipate in the atmosphere. The white stick with a glowing tip he held in his hand gave comfort to the vampire. Bringing it to his mouth, he took a puff, inhaling the plumes of thick smoke into his dead lungs, letting the death seep into his body as if he wasn’t dead enough. Slouching his shoulders forward, he nestled himself deeper into his leather duster, trying to stay a bit warmer than the air outside.

Buffy stepped out on the veranda behind Spike, watching him puff away on his cancer stick. Not that Spike could get cancer, what with no living cells, but a cancer stick to everyone around him. Pulling her wool coat closer to her body, she stepped out from the under hang towards the love of her life. His white hair sparkled in the moonlight, shining silver in the deep dark night. She coughed a bit, alerting her presence, ‘Knew you were there, love.’ His voice popped in her head.

Smiling, she walked to him, wrapper her arms around his middle. Spike switched the hand that held the cigarette and wrapped his free hands around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him. Finding his jacket was open, she insinuated herself into him, telling herself that they were sharing body heat. ‘Yeah, so, I had to cough.’ Spike snorted out loud, breaking the silence. ‘Like, I’d warn you, fang face.’

‘Hey, what’s with the old names, pet?’ Spike looked down at her, her eyes shining with love and trust.

‘Don’t know, just popped in my head. What are you doing?’ Buffy snuggled closer, grimacing as Spike continued to smoke.

‘Saluting the Queen’s mum, what does it look like? Smoking a sodding cigarette, is that all right with you?’ Buffy felt Spike’s anger, but didn’t understand it.

She stepped away and bundled herself up in her coat, ‘Geeze, chill there. I was just asking a question; don’t have to get shirty with me.’

‘Shirty?’ Spike’s eyebrow rose. ‘Do you even know what that means?’

‘What is your problem Spike?’ Buffy looked over at him, something or someone set him off and it wasn’t her.

‘Nothing, just go inside, love.’

‘No, something is wrong. Did I do something?”

‘Go inside, Buffy.’ Spike reiterated.

‘Spike, please, baby tell me. I’ll fix it.’

“Go inside Slayer.” This time Spike didn’t use the bond, he spoke out loud. The message was clear and she obeyed.

With one final glance at him, she headed inside. Before she shut the door she turned around, “Don’t shut me out, Spike.”
~*~*~
Spike stayed outside in the garden a bit, something was off with Captain Cardboard and his little wife’s visit. Why did Quentin stick up for Buffy? Announcing she was in charge? That was strange. Something was off, something smelled off. This house, mansion, the people in it. The stench permeated the marbled wall, leaving traces of something. Spike reached out in the bond, trying to find Buffy. She was sitting in the library, talking to Giles. She was safe, but something told Spike that she wasn’t as safe as they thought.

Spike threw his last fag away, littering the veranda littered with the burned cigarette butts and headed inside. Ignoring the Watchers and Watchers-in-training, Spike headed straight for the library. He stopped and took a breath, inhaling her scent. He heard her melodic laugh through the door and walls. Stepping forward, he pushed through the heavy wooden door.

Buffy looked up as Spike entered, only to look back down at the book she was reading. Spike sighed, knowing she was hurt and angry with him. He felt it, even if she refused to talk to him over the link. In fact, she tried shutting down the link a couple times as he headed up here. Spike slumped down in the chair next to her. ‘Sorry, love.’ Spike looked at Giles, his nose in one of the ancient books that was supposed to contain the secrets of the Slayer line. Buffy didn’t answer his apology, but she didn’t try to shut him out. ‘I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.’

He saw Buffy’s lips twitch, trying to repress a smile. Her anger ebbed away as he talked. ‘Taken what out on me?’

‘Is nothing, love. Don’t worry about it.’ Spike grabbed a text in front of him, staring at the Latin words, Spike tried to help.

‘That makes me worried even more.’ Spike looked over at Buffy, her lower lip jutted out in a pout.

‘Don’t do that! You know what that does to me.’ Spike smirked over at Buffy. Their eyes met and both knew it was pointless to stay mad at the other.

‘Spike, what is it. Don’t shut me out. I know you are worried about something. I can FEEL it.’

‘Something just bloody isn’t right here, Slayer. First, Quentin treats you like a second, wait third class citizen and then he’s spouting off about how you are in charge. Doesn’t make a bit of sodding sense to me. And Captain Cardboard? Come on! His damn bird starting the Initiative without his knowledge? Sounds fishy at best. I know he isn’t the brightest crayon in the crayon box, but you can’t be that oblivious.’

‘Spike, he seriously was shocked as we were.’

‘I know, but it doesn’t make sense.’ Both stopped pretending that they were reading and looked directly at each other, having a silent discussion. Giles stopped his pacing and reading to stare at them. Spike’s eyes rippled amber every now and then while Buffy’s rippled from yellowish brown to green. He knew they were talking, probably something important if they weren’t using their voices. Giles noticed that when he was around Buffy made a conscious effort to not talk through the bond. ‘How can he not know that she’s been heading a revamped version of the Initiative while good ole’ boy Travers does?’

‘I didn’t know about you, Doctor.’

‘Oh, sodding hell! I wasn’t the Doctor. I was holding those eggs for someone. I told you.’

‘Uh huh, honey, pull my other leg.’ Buffy crossed her legs, jiggling one in front of him.

“I was not the DOCTOR!” Spike roared. Everyone in the library turned and looked at him.

“Spike, come on, admit it was one you your hair brained schemes.”

“It wasn’t a scheme, those eggs weren’t even Suvolte. They were… oh sod it, it’s not like you’ll believe me.” Spike stood up and headed out the door, his duster blowing behind him.

“He sure likes to make his entrances and exits, doesn’t he?” Giles mused.

“That he does.” Buffy answered, still looking at the door. “Guess I better go after him.” She got up to follow him, leaving Giles alone, once again, to continue the search of the Slayer secrets.





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