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Chapter 38
 
The Council’s lift seemed to take more time than usual in its ascent to the 6th floor. Although he thought he was doing a bang-up job at not openly displaying his nervousness, Spike couldn’t avoid the tension in his muscles or the singing of his nerves. A kinetic energy coursed through his body, leaving it coiled as if he was backed into a corner. That had always been fun in his old ‘fists, fangs and fuck all else’ days, but this time so much more was at stake. This time he had Buffy to lose.
 
Trying to stave off the sinking feeling that was settling in his gut, he replayed the hours that preceded this elevator ride like an 8mm reel, looping it over and over again in his mind.
 
Every sight, every scent, every sound, Buffy’s soft body beneath his, her warm breath whispering against the sensitive skin of his neck, more, harder, faster, loveyouloveyouloveyou, had to be committed to memory. One doesn’t live on the dark side of life for one hundred and twenty years without being able to distinguish true-to-God apocalypses from paler version wannabes. And this, that they were about to face on a warm June evening, was definitely of the former.
 
They had dressed in silence afterwards, neither caring to wash up, to remove the scent of their coupling from their bodies. An air of finality hung heavily in the hotel room, leaving both blondes to dark fears and bittersweet memories. Escaping their mission, running as far away as possible from the Council, Evan Blakeford, baby Dawn and her fate was an option, but neither had considered it.
 
Champions just didn’t skirt their responsibilities.
 
For the first time since their arrival at the small hotel, Hetty was in the lobby as they were leaving. She waved them off from her post behind the desk, smiling as always, but Buffy caught an underlying sadness in the older woman’s eyes. She knows, the Slayer thought to herself. She knows she won’t see us again.
 
She had shared this with Spike as they sat in the car, both knowing that there was so much left to say, but neither feeling like doing much talking. Her words were an affirmation of Spike’s state of mind, but he refused to let her see it.
 
“Don’t think like that, pet. We’re gonna win this; we’ll be the ones walkin’ out in one piece. You an‘ me--we‘ll be unbeatable.”
 
If only he could convince himself as well, then maybe he could push away the feeling of dread that was numbing his spirit.
 
“Spike?” Her voice was timid as she took his hand in hers.
 
“Yeah, love?”
 
“If... if anything happens to me,” she touched her fingers to his mouth “please don’t interrupt, this is hard enough already--if anything happens to me, I want you to make sure Mom’s ok.” Buffy’s voice wavered as she fought to keep her emotions under control. “Tell her I love her and that I’m doing this for her. Tell Giles not to blame himself, that I’ve never listened to him anyway.” The car’s occupants shared an uneasy chuckle before the young woman took in a deep breath and continued. “Tell Willow, Xander and the others to finally have a normal life that doesn’t include figuring out how to get the latest demon goo off their good shoes.”
 
“That’s a nice speech, pet, but...”
 
“But I’m not done.” Truth was, now that she’d opened her mouth, the words just flowed. The Slayer had never been known for her verbosity but, in the confines of the BMW, she was giving it her best. Spike knew, by her avoidance of his gaze, that this next bit was going to be about him. About them. And he didn’t want to hear it, wanted to assure her it wasn’t necessary, but wouldn’t that involve believing it in the first place?
 
Sure, he was being all noble and cocksure of a positive outcome, but that was on the outside. On the inside, doubts flittered about him like pesky little butterflies, never getting close enough for him to shoo away, but making their presence felt nonetheless.
 
Her first words, though, caught him off guard.
 
“I loved Angel like nothing else.”
 
The vampire’s brow furrowed and his mouth opened as if to protest, but he bit his lip. It was up to Buffy to deal with this however she felt necessary. Even if it meant bringing up the poofter.
 
“At least, that’s what I thought, back then. And when he left me, I swore off relationships. Buffy and guys were not mixy and that was it. Falling in love was messy and only led to heartbreak, right? I mean, look at Mom and Dad, Willow and Oz, heck--even you and Drusilla. So why set myself up for the inevitable?” Finally, the young woman’s face lifted and her hazel eyes turned to gaze upon him.
 
“But I forgot one really important thing, Spike. I forgot the ‘during’ of relationships--everything that happens between the meeting and the leaving. Having someone to share jokes with, to hold hands with, to snuggle up to when you wake up from a bad dream. Sharing your life with someone, going through experiences together; that’s what’s great about being in love. Dad cheated on Mom, left her high and dry with me to take care of, but she still smiles when she drinks a certain wine or watches a certain movie; I know she’s reliving some of the good times they had together. You can’t delete those any more than you can erase the hurt.”
 
Spike watched his love as she sighed and melted back against the lush car seat. Although she hadn’t covered their own relationship yet, his heart was already swelling with her words. And, by her body language, this tête-à-tête was doing her a world of good.
 
“I know it’s only been about a week or so, but I already feel like my good memory container is filling up. The stuffed animal, that night by the Tower and our first kiss, the strawberries... It’s all been about feeling good about ourselves and being happy. I’m not used to that, you know. I’m more familiar with the heartbreak and the angst and the having my heart ripped out. I...” She let out a dry chuckle. “Geez, listen to me, all talky. Point is, I love you and it’s not something I say cause it sounds neat or grown up. I really, really love you and I want you to know that just in case... just in case tonight doesn’t go so well for me. You’ve made me truly happy, Spike.”
 
Before he had time to respond--he was astounded, to say the least, by her frank words--her lips found his for a searing kiss. When she pulled away her shoulders were stiff again and her eyes set out ahead of them. “Now let’s get out of here before I wuss out.”
 
***
 
The ding of the elevator brought the vampire back to the present and he took a step back, allowing Buffy to leave its stuffy confines first. His Victorian manners were of constant amusement to the young woman, who wasn’t really accustomed to having men put her needs ahead of their own. She’d even teased him once, a twinkle in her eye, about old chauvinist habits.
 
The Slayer looked around and, seeing no one, became perturbed. “She did say the sixth floor, right?”
 
His duster swirled as Spike did a 360 on the spot. “Yeah, that’s what she said alright. Maybe we’re supposed to...”
 
A loud ‘shh!’ interrupted him and both blondes turned towards the sound. They spotted the young watcher about twenty feet down the corridor to their left, her head peeking out one of the doors.
 
“Get your asses in here and stop making so much noise!” Amelia craned her neck, checking the length of the hallway for any other Council members. If anyone found out about what she was up to, well, she‘d most likely find out just what ‘up to your ass in alligators’ really meant. Probably in a literal sense, too, knowing this lot.
 
Hunching their shoulders and stifling a chuckle, the two crept towards the room as stealthily as possible. When the door closed behind them with hardly an audible click, Buffy caved.
 
“Ok, so what’s got you all cloak and daggery? You sneaking behind Travers’ back? Cause that would be so funny--really, it would.”
 
At least she was honest enough to look abashed. Amelia took in a deep breath and released it. “No. And, yes. Although he told me to do what I could to help you, I doubt he meant bringing you here.” With that, she took a step back and allowed her guests to take their first good look at the room in which they were hiding.
 
Spike let a slow whistle escape his lips as he glanced around the room at the myriad weapons adorning the walls and tables. He was about to take a step forward--damn, but that was a nice axe--when he was knocked off balance by an eager Slayer.
 
“Oh, God! Look at them all!” Completely ignoring Amelia’s call for quiet, she picked a dagger up off one of the tables. “Ooh, pretty...”
 
The vampire righted himself, straightening his coat. Nearly knocked over by a five-foot nothing girl. That‘s my Slayer for ya. “Well, we’ve lost her. No gettin’ the Slayer back now.”
 
Amelia shook her head at the almost orgasmic sounds Buffy was making as she picked up various weapons, testing their weight in her grasp. Slayers were no doubt in a class of their own. “Yes, well, I’m sure you find all of these quite fascinating, Buffy, but we do have business to attend to.”
 
It was as if she hadn’t spoken. The young woman’s attention remained focused on the large sword she was twirling, a wide grin spread across her face. Only Spike’s too loud “Slayer!” was able to roust her from the personal moment she was sharing with the weapon.
 
This only seemed to aggravate the watcher, who stormed over to the Slayer and grabbed the sword from her hand, giving both blondes dirty looks. “Will you please pay attention!” Realizing that she’d lost her cool, Amelia pinched her lips and concentrated on replacing the weapon in its proper place. When she turned back her companions, she couldn’t believe their ramrod stances or the properly-chastised looks on their faces. Good, she thought to herself, maybe they’ll start taking this seriously.
 
“I’m sorry I lost my patience, but perhaps I haven’t projected the extent to which I’m sticking my neck out for you two. If any of us get caught here by Stewart or those who support him, I don’t know what could happen. Quentin would no longer be able to assist us--that much I know.”
 
Buffy’s voice squeaked as she spoke up, voicing what was--to her, anyway--a very important point. “But isn’t Travers the head cheese around here?”
 
“Yes, he’s the Head of the Council, but the combined powers of the other members can override his if he’s deemed unfit to govern.”
 
Spike snorted. “And since Stewie has more than half the lot on his side...”
 
“Exactly.” Amelia sighed. This assignment had become a much bigger undertaking than she could ever have imagined. Her head was pounding, her stomach ached and she was jumpier than the time she’d watched the black and white version of The Haunting on her own. “Which is why we have to be as covert as possible, and that involves not turning the weapons room into a playground.”
 
Feeling unfairly singled out--how the heck else was she supposed to react to all these cool weapons?!--Buffy mumbled a petulant ‘sorry’.
 
“I’m sorry, too. Under better circumstances you could play to your heart’s content, but right now we need to put our heads together and decide how you should arm yourselves.”
 
The next half hour was a futile effort in reconciling two different schools of thought. Buffy and Spike both argued that in order to walk out of the abbey alive, they needed to be armed to the gills. Amelia, on the other hand, tried to convince them otherwise.
 
“First of all, you’ll be bogged down by the weight of all these...” Her hand waved over the assortment of weapons surrounding them. “Furthermore, how will an axe or a sword fare against a Warlock’s magic? Your wits will be your biggest asset; you’ll have to rely heavily on using your brains.”
 
“But what...” Spike stopped pacing at the dirty look Amelia threw him. Lowering his voice, he continued his line of thought. “But what about the Pelorak? What the hell am I supposed to do against them? Ask them not to hurt me?”
 
“You’re forgetting my promise, William.”
 
“Will it prevent me from feeling pain? Is it going to stop me from getting my limbs hacked off?” When the watcher slowly shook her head, he chuckled humourlessly. “So tell me again why I shouldn’t bring as many sharp and pokey things as I can carry.”
 
“Look, how about if...”
 
“Hold on, here. What are you guys talking about?!”
 
When Amelia opened her mouth to respond, Spike spoke up. “S’nothing, love. The watcher just promised that we’d make it out alive.”
 
Buffy pursed her lips--she knew the vampire was lying. But they’d already wasted enough time bickering and Amelia was right--if anyone caught them in there, they could kiss Dawn goodbye. This had to be resolved as quickly as possible. “Ok, then--we’ll go easy on the hardware, me more so than Spike.” The thrall of the weapons subsided and the seriousness of the situation once again caused the Slayer to take control. Turning to Spike, she was all business. “Take whatever you can hide under your coat without weighing you down. If we walk in there with a sword in each hand, we might as well have a neon sign above our heads saying ‘here comes trouble’.”
 
Impressed by the young woman’s take-charge attitude, Amelia watched her in silence as she chose a dagger and a sai. The Gem of Amarra, which she’d managed to ’borrow’ earlier that morning, was a slight weight in her coat pocket. Her fingers were constantly toying with it, feeling the power that emanated from it. She cleared her throat, getting both blondes’ attention.
 
“Ruth and I have done some research, based on the descriptions provided by Buffy, on the location of her dream. At first we believed it to be the Franciscan monastery, but the courtyard is still well tended to. The only viable option after that is St. Monica’s Abbey, which has fallen under neglect these past decades; it fits the description--the tower, the colour of the stone, the courtyard--almost to a tee.”
 
A brief pause was followed by a giggle. “St. Monica’s Abbey?!” Buffy couldn’t help but be incredulous. “Aren’t saints supposed to be called Mary, or Teresa, or... Mary?”
 
“St. Monica’s the patron saint of wives and abuse victims, you ninny.”
 
Both women stared at the vampire, slack-jawed. Before either of them had time to say anything, he raised a finger, daring them to speak up with a glare. “Mum used to go there after Da died, spent some of her time helpin’ the women who stayed there. Said she was doin’ her bit, having been lucky enough to marry a good man.”
 
Buffy knew better than to press Spike for any details about his past, so she just nodded and mouthed an ’oh’. “Okay, then. We go to St. Monica’s and punch first, ask questions later. That about it?”
 
“Sounds good to me.” The weight of the situation was beginning to get to Spike. He’d never been good at the planning, the waiting, the minutia of a well thought-out attack. Fists first, questions later; that was the best plan they could have come up with.
 
The vampire’s fidgeting was really beginning to get on the Slayer’s nerves. “That’s it. We’re getting out of here before Sparky implodes.” She turned to the watcher and tried to smile. “Any last words of wisdom? Cause I’ve never been up against a Warlock before.”
 
Amelia returned the young woman’s smile. “Only to be on your guard. We don’t know the extent of Evan’s power, Buffy, so I need you to expect the worst. Don’t let him get your goat, don’t let him touch you. If possible, try to turn the tables--if you can make him lose his concentration, that might buy you some time.” She walked over to the Slayer and wrapped her arms around her affectionately. “Best of luck, Buffy.”
 
Spike’s eyes followed Buffy as she left the room. He turned to Amelia and they stood there, awkwardly staring at each other, both waiting for the other to make the first move. “Bloody hell,” he said as he walked over to her and held his hand out. “Suppose this is it, eh? Remember what we talked about in the pub; I wasn’t kidding. Somewhere sunny--she deserves no less.”
 
The watcher’s handshake was firm, and her gaze steady as she replied. “William, you’ve a stout heart and have proven to be more of a man than most who work alongside me. You won’t let her down; I believe in you.”
 
It was the second time in the span of a week that someone had said those words to him, and they meant just as much now, coming from the mouth of this woman, as it had from Buffy. He remained glued to the spot, unable to say anything, until she handed him the Gem. It fit snugly on his finger and he immediately felt its energy flow through him.
 
His strong embrace surprised Amelia more than if he’d hit her. She was left there gobsmacked, watching him as he left, duster billowing behind him, wondering what part of what she’d told him had merited his choked “thank you”.
 
***
 
For the fourth time that evening, Evan pulled a knapsack from under his bed and pored through its contents, making sure that everything he’d need was in there. Tonight was the night that would change everything. The world was finally going to take a turn for the better. Well, for him, anyway.
 
A sound in the hallway caused him to jump, nearly spilling the bag’s contents out onto the floor. He shoved it back under the bed as the footsteps got closer; he let out a sigh of relief, however, when the sound went past his door and straight to the bathroom. The last thing he needed was for his mom to present him with another list of chores. Cinderella is my middle name...
 
Not that it would matter after tonight, of course.
 
“Are you upstairs?!” Victoria Blakeford’s shrill voice called out from behind the bathroom’s closed door.
 
Gritting his teeth, the young man pulled himself from the sanctuary of his bedroom. “Yes mum.” Stay calm, this will all be over, then you’ll be free...
 
The door opened, and the older woman stepped out, commanding attention even in the narrow hallway of her bungalow. Her white blouse and light grey skirt were immaculate and not a hair on her head was out of place. Piercing black eyes settled on her child as her lip curled with disdain. “Tonight’s meeting is scheduled to last late, so don’t wait up for me. I’ll most likely be back after midnight and I don’t want to see any lights on--you know what your bedtime is.”
 
Evan watched his mother slip on her boots and coat, thoughts of hellfire dancing through his mind. The cruel bitch was going to get what she deserved. Years of putting up with snide remarks, constant put-downs and right-out abuse had culminated in this one act that was going to change things for good. Her shrill voice shook him from an image of hideous demons dancing around her broken and bloodied body.
 
“Are you listening to me, child?!”
 
“Yes, mother...” Damn, think fast! “I’ll make sure all the plants are watered.” He almost let out a breath of relief when she nodded. Lady luck was with him--this had to be a good sign.
 
Not another word was uttered between the two, not a good-bye or a good evening. Evan simply shut the door after her and watched her get into her car and leave. He turned from the door and went to his room to fetch his bag, singing under his breath.
 
“This is the end of the world as we know it...”
 
 
Author’s Note: A great big thanks to Christie for her better than ever beta-ing duties on this one. She cut out a lot of unnecessary words/filler, and the chapter flows better because of her. And thanks to my readers, who I hope haven’t forgotten me or my little story :)





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