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Author's Chapter Notes:
Beta by Deibirchen.
*Saturday night*

The atmosphere inside the Summers’ home was stifling. Joyce was trying to keep herself from thinking about the danger her daughter had insisted on facing head-on and alone by cooking enough to feed an army for the coming week and making kettle after kettle of tea and hot chocolate for her erstwhile guests.

Giles had brought over more of his ancient tomes for them to look through, but both he and Hank were paying more attention to their watches than to whatever it was they were supposedly reading. Each man was trying to keep a cool and calm demeanor, while failing completely to hide his nervousness. Having made a surprise appearance alongside Giles, Jenny, the computer science teacher who was apparently aware of the supernatural goings on in the town, was also helping with the research, and she seemed to be the only one to actually be doing anything of the sort.

Also present were Willow, Xander, and even Cordelia Chase, who seemed to feel a bit out of place in the group, but was putting on a brave face, nonetheless. The teens were all supposedly doing their homework; although they all had yet to turn a page for the past three cups of hot chocolate they’d absentmindedly sipped at. Nobody spoke in the house, except for a few remarks by Cordelia that she was “missing Bronzing time,” which had stopped after a snide remark by Xander that, “Nobody made you come.” All in all, everyone was trying to pretend that it was just another regular night of research while Buffy was out on patrol, but they were all failing miserably.

When the shrill ring of the telephone broke the oppressive silence, it came almost as a relief to her mother. Then again, Buffy wouldn’t have just called. She would have showed up, maybe covered in dust or other demon gore, possibly with wounds of her own, but alive and safe nonetheless.

“Summers residence, Hank Summers speaking.”

Joyce thought fleetingly that her ex could give somebody the wrong impression by answering the phone like that. This was not his home, nor had it ever been, despite the name. His next words drove all such thoughts from her mind, and made her rush to stand next to him and hold his clenching hand.

“Yes, this is her father. Do you-”

He was listening to whatever it was that was being said to him while visibly blanching and Joyce felt that her heart was about to break into a million pieces.

“I understand, thank you.” The words were spoken as if on auto-pilot, his voice hollow and weak. He put the receiver back in its cradle and turned to look into Joyce’s eyes, seemingly ignorant that everyone else in the house had gathered around them as well. “Buffy’s at the hospital.”

The news brought the blood rushing up to Joyce’s head, her vision getting darker around the edges, the ringing in her ears making her almost miss the rest of her former husband’s words.

“She’s been badly hurt and almost completely drained of blood in what was described as a climbing accident, but the doctors gave her meds and put her on transfusions and they have very high hopes that she’ll pull through just fine.”

Joyce collapsed sobbing in Hank’s arms, while he delivered his final bombshell.

“They also told me that the one who brought her in just in time to save her life is wearing almost all black, save for a red shirt, has bleached-blonde hair, and is claiming to be her boyfriend.” He made a strangled gulping sound. “He’s also refusing to leave her bedside.”

“Good Lord!”

~~~***~~~

*Sunnydale General Hospital, later that night*

He was dimly aware that the nurses and the rest of the hospital staff had stopped trying to get him out of the Slayer’s room after he’d told them that the next person to touch him would get a broken limb, “dealer’s choice.” They’d also stopped nattering on about how he also needed medical attention after he’d flashed just a bit of fang to the pushiest of the nurses. He really didn’t care what he was doing for the town’s usual extra-thick blinders when it came to all things demon, but on the one hand, he figured that nobody in the medical profession could be completely in the dark about what had been really going on in that place for too long. So letting them know that the things that go bump in the night were watching over the Slayer could only ensure prompt and extra-special care. On the other hand, he just didn’t give a fuck. All he could care about was listening to the Sl—Buffy’s heart as it beat with ever increasing steadiness and watching intently at the color spreading back into her cheeks. The rest of the world could just go and bugger themselves silly for all he cared.

He wasn’t really sure how long it had been since he’d burst through the hospital doors, the Slayer in his arms, with him hollering like a man possessed that he needed “a transfusion for the lady.” They’d tried to take her away from him, but he’d insisted he take her and put her in a bed himself. Okay, so maybe he’d barked it at the orderly. He’d told them some story about a midnight rock-climbing date and had been thankful that he’d memorized her phone number before she even returned from LA. It pays to know your enemy!

Of course, that probably meant that the racket coming towards him was probably the chit’s family and friends, most if not all of whom probably knew who and what he was and how to put a stake through a heart. Time to talk to your loved ones, love. Don’t worry, they’re off the menu. Giving her a wink and a half-smile, he turned around just in time to see the Watcher striding purposefully his way, one hand hidden in his jacket.

“You can stop right there, Napoleon. We’re doing this all civilized like, you hear?” He allowed his gaze to travel over the rest of the group when he saw the man slow to a halt. “We don’t really want to find out who the fastest in the land is, do we? I can see the whites of their eyes.” He felt like shaking his head at the lack of recognition on the faces of the Americans of the group. “Wellington’s orders when he defeated Napoleon at Waterloo? What exactly are they teaching kids these days?”

They were still looking bewildered, so he decided to drop the history lesson and just deal with the current situation. Before he had a chance to say anything else, the woman he’d found out was the Slayer’s mother from his minions launched herself at her daughter’s bedside, ignoring his presence there altogether after she pushed him out of her way. The way she was currently standing left her back completely exposed had he been willing to attack her, which only increased the tension in the others, while giving Spike a new sense of respect for the woman. Turning to the rest of the group, but still keeping the bed with the Slayer, as well as her mother in his peripheral vision, he decided to clear the air.

“Look, all this posturing about isn’t worth rot. You should know that I am currently the Master of this little burg, and if I’d ordered it, none of you would have gotten out of the Slayer’s home alive.” Taking a deep breath, he went on the path that could very well damn him for all eternity. Well, more than he already was damned, anyway. “I admit I’m the one that did this to B—the Slayer, but in my defense, she pulled her stake out first. So while I was happily draining away my third “Chosen” bird in a century, I realized that I don’t want her dead anymore than I want to spontaneously combust.”

“Yeah, like we’re gonna believe anything you say, Blood Breath. I say stake first, ask questions never.”

Spike was tempted to either admire the young pup or rip his bloody head off, but the fact that he wasn’t moving to attack told him that it was mostly male posturing, maybe even laced with a bit of inappropriate feelings towards the Slayer. It paid to learn about your enemies, indeed. By the look on the Slayer’s dad’s face, he wasn’t too happy with the whelp either. “I’ll let that one slide, seeing as how I might technically be to blame for the venue we’re having our little chat in, but you better keep your yap shut from now on, if you still want to have a tongue in it to flap.” There it was, fear was evident in the boy’s eyes.

“So what. . .” The watcher didn’t get to conduct his interrogation, as the Slayer’s father spoke over him.

“What do you want?”

Spike’s grin turned feral. There’s the lawyer in him acting up! This will be fun. “I want a truce.” That shut them up good and proper. He drew up to his full height, putting on all the pomp and fanfare he usually hated with a fiery passion in his voice and demeanor. “I, William the Bloody, also known as Spike, also known as the Slayer of Slayers, currently Master of Sunnydale and acting Overlord of the Order of Aurelius do hereby solemnly swear that under the conditions of this truce neither I, nor my followers will kill or seriously maim any human either living in and around Sunnydale, or simply just passing through. The exception to the rule being, of course, self-defense and human criminals such as rapists or murderers—such persons being deigned unworthy of the Slayer’s protection, and therefore being exempt from the conditions of this truce. Also, it is not to be considered as a breach of said truce if third parties outside my control do not comply with my promise, such instances remaining to be dealt with on a case-by-case basis. In return, you won’t try to harm me and my followers in any way, shape, or form. Exemptions for forces outside of the Slayer’s control also apply.”

Relaxing his posture, he took out a cigarette from his pack and was about to light it until the Slayer’s mother picked it from between his lips and put it in a glass of water on the bedside table, with a look that clearly stated any other attempt at smoking would meet the same fate. Can see where the Slayer’s gotten her fire, and it’s got nothing to do with her calling.

“You said kill or maim, leaving a whole range of physical and mental attacks still at your disposal.” The Watcher now had his arms crossed over his chest, although his hand was still gripping the stake he had hidden inside his jacket.

“Look, I’m offering you more than any other Master has probably offered to anyone in his domain, especially with the Hellmouth in his power. Don’t like the terms? Fine, we’ll discuss them all once the Slayer’s up and about, ’cause no offence, but this is supposed to be a truce of equals, and with all your bluster and tweed, you’re not my equal. Understand that, Watcher? For now, let’s just agree to leave one another in peace, and we’ll let the rest be sorted out later, yeah?”

“Wait a minute. Are we actually listening to what this thing has to say? He doesn’t even have a soul, like Angel does, and look where listening to him almost brought us—the Master got out after nearly killing our Buff. So I vote no, hell no, and still say we should stake him and be done with it. There’s just one of him and . . .” the Whelp looked around once, trying to suss out whom he thought he could count on “well, more of us. Right, gang?”

Spike started to laugh, low and ominous, with each sound that he emitted purposefully designed to make the blood run cold in his enemies, just like Angelus had taught him all those decades before. He wasn’t usually one to resort to such mind tricks, but then again, by the terms of his own truce, he would have to be more flexible in his dealings with humans, this group in particular. “Attack me, and I will find myself in the need to practice self-defense, which is a perfectly acceptable kill, as per the truce. I seriously doubt anyone would miss an empty noggin like yours once you’re drained and gone.” The slap on his shoulder was not what he expected, and he turned confused eyes on the Slayer’s mother.

“All of you, stop it! This is a hospital, a place of healing, and I won’t have you fighting each other anywhere near my daughter’s sickbed.” Once she set the ground rules, she pinned the vampire with an icy glare that would have made a lesser man run for the hills. “You stop it with all the big talk nonsense. Stop with the threats and the baiting; otherwise, I will personally throw you out of this room, and don’t think for one second you can intimidate me with the ‘supernatural being’ bullshit. I’ll tan your hide with a fire axe if I have to, so watch it, mister!” She then turned her eyes on the male support group. “And you, if you can’t be civil, get out of this room, this building, or even this town, depending on how upset you make me. You do not want to see me get angry with you. Especially you, Hank, should know better. And what I said I meant for you in particular, Xander. If you want to be permitted to interact with my daughter anymore, you will abide by my rules and hers; you got that? I talked to Hank about you…” Her words were met with chastised looks, mumbled apologies, and the young bigot turning a shade of red that should not have been physically possible. The other women were nodding wisely at the display by what could safely be called the matriarch of the group.

Spike really liked the woman. He was even more impressed, since he’d found out through his sources that the Slayer’s mother had been kept in the dark about her daughter’s calling until just a few days before. She was now taking charge, making sure that the people that were there to help her daughter were indeed going to do just that. Maybe getting her on his side was the key to smoothing things with Buffy and her merry band of miscreants. Feeling a lot lighter on the inside, he allowed himself to actually relax for the first time since he’d arrived in the bloody room, leaning against a wall—a picture of indifference.

Of course, the peace couldn’t last for long. A nurse came in to check on the patient, throwing a surreptitious look his way that held a bit of fear. She asked that only the family members actually stay, preferably just one. She amended the number to two, three tops after throwing one more look at the vampire who had raised his eyebrow in challenge. A bit of shuffling, a bit of glaring from the staff and Joyce, and Spike found himself with just the Slayer and her parents present. The Wanker—’cause only a wanker would have walked out on such women—was still uneasy, but trying hard not to show it for fear of his ex.

The Mama Bear had taken a seat in the chair Spike had vacated on their arrival and was holding her daughter’s hand, not unlike the vampire himself had sat just minutes before. “Now, William, you’re going to tell me exactly what happened between you and my daughter starting with when you first met and all the way to a few minutes ago.” Her voice was soft and calm, but the steel behind her words was still there. “And don’t you dare lie to me about anything, or I promise you’ll regret it.” She wouldn’t even look at him, which only added to his feeling of being chastised by his own mother. “I’m listening.”


Chapter End Notes:
I'm sorry I forgot to update here, but I've been having some busy weeks. Next updates should come in a couple of days apart, until I catch up.



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