The Protectors
By Heather Martin
Rated – R
Summary- The monks gave Buffy and Spike one night of fake memories. That would have been enough to change their lives. But when you add a glowing key in the form of an unborn baby, well . . . things wouldn’t just change, they would be turned completely upside-down
Disclaimer- Joss Whedon owns Spike’s eyebrow scar, his bleached hair, his crystal blue eyes, his manly arms, his muscular chest, his tight . . . *cough* Too bad isn’t it? But a girl can dream, right?
Spoilers- Starts during Out of My Mind. The entire Season 5, although I changed it tremendously to suit my own purpose
Chapter 8
Ever since her confession Giles had become cold towards her. He never spoke to her about anything except slayer business. She was relieved when he left for England in order to seek answers from the council about Glory.
On a positive note, Buffy had spoken to her mother and school guidance counselor. They had discussed her options and she had chosen one. She’d be able to complete some basic courses over the internet until after the birth. Her mother even bought her a laptop. It wasn’t like there weren’t pregnant girls all over campus, but Buffy thought this was the easiest choice. She’d be able to set her own hours to do the work required.
She was reading over a sociological article when the phone rang. She groaned and picked it up. Her mother was at the gallery so she couldn’t rely on anyone else to answer.
“Hello, Summers residence. Buffy speaking.”
“Buffy? Good, I caught you.”
Buffy shifted in her seat. Her attention focused on the conversation. “Giles? Did you find anything?” She feared that whatever he had found was urgent news. Why else would he call instead of waiting until he got back?
“It seems the council has found some information that can help us,” he said.
“About Glory?” she asked.
“Presumably. We'll find that out when we... arrive. Could be very important.”
“We? You mean . . .?”
He sighed heavily. “Yes, they’re coming back to Sunnydale with me. I’m sorry, Buffy. I thought I should give you fair warning so that you can prepare yourself.”
“Now? Why do they have to come here?” She could hear panic in her voice. “Giles, I don’t want them to come here. I don’t trust them. Especially now. What will I do if they find out about me? Make them not come here.”
“I can’t, Buffy. They may have valuable information and refuse to share unless they can deliver it in person.”
“They put me through that test, and it almost killed me. And then, when I was Faith, they almost killed me again. Honestly, I really don’t want them around my unborn baby.”
There was a long pause. “Despite my reaction to your uh . . . circumstances, I do care. I won’t let them hurt you or your child.”
Buffy shut her eyes. “Thank-you.”
* * *
Buffy was sure to change into a baggy sweatshirt. It was the biggest one she had, gray, and ugly. She usually wore it to lounge around the house in on a Sunday. With any luck the watchers wouldn’t even notice any change in her physique.
She had no idea when they were supposed to arrive. She wasn’t going to wait around for them to show themselves. She had important things to do.
Spike was actually waiting outside his crypt for her. He quickly discarded his glowing cigarette. He smiled and she returned it. Weird. She actually didn’t mind him around. Not that he was a talking-buddy or anything, but he wasn’t bad as a combat partner. She could rely on him to keep help her out if danger arose.
“Come on, Spike, let’s go see what we can find,” she said.
“Only an hour this time, pet,” he said.
She pouted.
“You know, there will come a point when you won’t be able to come out at all. Enjoy it while you can.”
She almost snapped at him that he had no right to dictate her life. But she didn’t because she knew he was right. She would have to stay off the battle field eventually.
Buffy was amazed had how in-synch they had become. Their movements complimented each other. She wondered if he could sense her the way she did him. His presence not only tingled on the back of her neck (like regular vampires), but consumed her entire body. She was too aware of every thrust he dished out. It unnerved her.
Suddenly voices filtered into the night.
“I must protest! This is outrageous, to confront her without any warning.”
Buffy would recognize that voice anywhere. She quickly staked the last remaining vamp. She braced herself for what was to come.
“Bad day,” she murmured.
Spike gave her a curious look.
“Miss. Summers.”
Buffy let her hand fall to her side, still clutching her stake. She took in the man before her. He definitely had gained some weight. He also had a goatee that wasn’t there before. He showed his age, sixty she guessed.
“Mr. Travers,” Buffy replied.
Spike dug into his pocket and took out a cigarette. He lit up and smirked. “Well, well, well, by the smell of tweed I’d have to guess watchers,” he remarked.
Buffy shot him a glare. He was a good lil vamp and discarded the smoke.
Giles stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Buffy, I tried to convince him to wait for you at the shop. But he wouldn’t have it.”
“That’s all right. I understand.” Her eyes scanned over the six people that stood with Quentin. “Friends?”
“Colleagues,” he said dryly. “Here to help with the review.”
“Excuse me?”
“Review? You said nothing of the sort.” Giles’s voice rose. Then he addressed Buffy. “We don’t have to rely on their aid. I’m sure that if we persisted . . .”
“Giles, be reasonable.” Buffy crossed her arms. She met the head-council’s eyes. “Test, huh? All right. I’m up for it.”
“Buffy . . .” Giles protested.
Quentin’s lips lifted slightly. “Glad there won’t be a scene. You carry on with your patrol and we’ll meet up at Rupert’s shop.”
“I’m through here,” Buffy said.
“Very well then.” He leaned over toward a blonde watcher with glasses. He whispered something to her. She nodded.
“We’ll start immediately,” he announced.
* * *
The next day Spike began a binge of chain smoking. He had to get his fix of nicotine when the slayer wasn’t around. There was a nock at the door. He went to answer it with uncertainty. He had no friends and Buffy never was polite when visiting.
He opened the door to reveal a woman with glasses. She had her hair twisted upon her head with a clip.
“H-Hello. I’ve come to ask you a few questions in regard to the slayer.” She paused. “Do you help the slayer often?”
“Need to get my spot of violence somewhere. But yeah, time and again. Nothing concrete, didn’t sign a contract as her side-kick.”
The woman frowned. “You fight by her side? I would think you’d want to kill her. You’ve killed slayers before.”
Spike took a deep drag of nicotine. He tilted his head, intrigued. “Heard of me, have you?”
Though it was dark he could make out the woman’s blush. She smiled, shyly. “I wrote my thesis on you.”
“Well, well, isn’t that neat. Tell me, pet, seeing as that we’re such good friends and all, how’s the slayer doing? Is she in her prime? High marks in all categories?”
* * *
The watcher pressed his stopwatch. “Record time,” he said.
Buffy wiped the sweat from her face with a clean towel. She was exhausted. They had put her through three tests so far: speed, strength, and endurance. When would it end? She couldn’t believe she was letting them do this to her. But she had to. It was the only way she’d get information about how to defeat Glory.
“Now onto agility,” Mr. Travers announced. “Phillip, collect the knives.”
“Knives!” She began to panic. She shot a glance at Giles.
“Hasn’t she been through enough?” Giles asked.
“Glory is stronger than you. She's a more powerful instrument, if you will. We can help you. We have information that will help. Pass the review and we give it to you without reservation. Fail the review, either through incompetence, or by resisting our recommendations....” Traver’s gestured toward Phillip, who had collected six knives. “Now, all you have to do is dodge the blade. If you cannot move fast enough, deflect it. But the goal is to get out of the way. Simple enough.”
Simple enough? Normally yes. If she were stabbed her slayer healing would kick in and patch her wound up pronto. But there was no guarantee it would cure any of her baby’s injuries. She wasn’t going to allow a speeding weapon to be aimed at her.
Quentin stared at her with a hard expression. He obviously didn’t get what the problem was.
Pointing his finger angrily, Giles yelled, “She's not your bloody instrument and you have no right to do any of this!”
“How much do you want our help?”
Buffy’s heart beat wildly. The workout room spun around her. She distantly heard Giles say something to her but she couldn’t make sense of it. Too much, too much! She did the only thing she could think of. She ran. She sped toward the backdoor and outside. She kept her pace up all the way home.
Revello Drive waited for her as a quiet sanctuary. She let herself into the house. It was dark and quiet. Her mother must be at the gallery. She leaned against the door in relief, taking in deep breaths. After a few moments she rounded the corner. She abruptly stopped.
Glory sat in the recliner. She looked up from The Baby Book: Everything you Need to Know about your Baby from Birth to Age Two.
“Long day, sweetie?”
The slayer didn’t answer. She stared with alarm at the book in Glory’s hand.
“So, is this yours?” Glory questioned. “Gonna have a little brat? Wow, that must put a damper on things.”
Buffy searched violently for a weapon. She spotted a sharp poker near the fireplace. She quickly grabbed it. Before she knew it Glory snatched it away.
“Buffy . . . If I wanted to fight, you could tell by the being dead already.”
“What do you want?” Buffy demanded.
Glory grinned. “The key. Why else do you think I'd come here? See, I think you know where it is. And that’s a good thing.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Buffy said.
“Well, it's the only thing keeping you alive right now.” She pointed the poker at Buffy’s stomach. “And your little spawn there. I could crush the life from you as easy as you'd break a nail. But I need the key. See my predicament. S0- Buffy. . .” She sighed. “Just give me the key. You either have it or you know where to find it. Obviously, this is a one-time-only deal. Next time we meet, something you love dies bloody. You know you can't take me. You know you can't stop me. ”
Glory stood up. She dropped the poker to the carpet. Buffy watched her leave grimly. Just then Joyce entered the room.
“Buffy, who was that?” Joyce asked with concern.
“Pack a bag,” Buffy ordered.
* * *
Spike awoke with a howl. He shot up from the sarcophagus, dodging the beam of light that filtered in from the door.
“Oh, it’s the slayer. For a second there I was worried.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
The vampire noticed Joyce by the entrance. She held a small bag.
“What’s with the family outing?”
Buffy softly said, “I need your help.”
Spike scratched his brow. “Great, I need your cash.”
Buffy shook her head. “This is important, Spike. I need you to protect my mother while I’m gone. Glory came to my house today . . .”
Spike visibly stiffened. “You all in one piece? Didn’t lay a finger on you, did she?”
Buffy narrowed her eyes. Just a minute ago he was being a pain in the ass and now he seemed concerned.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I have to go settle things with the council. I can’t leave Mom alone. Just . . . keep an eye on her for me.”
“Well, that's a boatload of manly responsibility to come flying out of nowhere.” He paused. “But, sure. I accept.” He called over to Joyce. “Come on in. Plenty of blood in the fridge. Make yourself at home. But be quiet, Passions is coming on.”
He went over to the black-and-white television and played with the antenna. Joyce perked up.
“Oh, Passions! Do you think Timmy’s really dead?”
“Oh. No, no. She can sew him back together. He’s a doll for god’s sake,” Spike said.
Buffy shook her head. She turned to leave. She’d never understand that vampire.
* * *
It was beginning to get dark. Buffy dreaded her arrival back to the store. She didn’t know how she was going to explain her flee for all hours ago. She glanced at her watch.
“Crap,” she muttered. Four hours ago.
Suddenly a black figure jumped out from behind a trashcan. He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her to the pavement. She got up as fast as she could. They faced off. She was surprised to realize he wore knight’s armor. Another guy in chain mail appeared out of nowhere. The two circled her.
“Any way we can not do this?” Buffy asked.
The first knight swung his sword. She ducked to avoid it. The second attempted to hit her with a staff. She deflected it. She spun and kicked the staff-holder in the stomach. Then she blocked a swing from sword-guy. She kicked the staff-knight until he stumbled backwards. She disarmed him and hit him in the face with his own weapon. The man went down. She turned toward the other.
She dropped low in order to avoid his sword. She rose again and used the staff to knock the sword out of his hand. She got the man down on the ground. She held him down with the staff to his throat. She tore his helmet away.
The knight looked human. The only thing unusual was the blue symbol on his forehead that resembled a blazing sun.
“Who or what are you?” Buffy demanded.
“One soldier in a vast army,” he choked.
“What army?”
“The Knights of Byzantium, an ancient order. And now your enemy.”
She ground the staff into his flesh. “You work for Glory?”
“You think we align ourselves with the beast? You must be mad.”
“You’re the ones trying to kill me.”
“So long as you protect the key, the brotherhood will never stop until we destroy it and you. You are the Slayer, and we know what we must do. Now, be done with it. Kill us, and let legions follow.”
Buffy got off him. She tossed the staff aside and took the sword instead. “Go.”
* * *
The whole watcher gang was assembled when she entered.
“Miss Summers, so kind of you to make your presence known once again,” Travers greeted.
Giles stood up from his place on the loft stairs. “Was there an attack?”
“Yeah.”
“We can continue the review at last,” Quentin Travers said.
“There won’t be any review.”
“Sorry?”
“Glory ... came to my home today.”
Giles’s eyes widened. “Are you . . .?”
“Just to talk.” Buffy paced. “She told me I'm a bug, I'm a flea, she could squash me in a second. Only she didn't. She came into my home, and we talked. We had what in her warped brain probably passes for a civilized conversation. Why?” She paused. “Because she needs something from me.”
Buffy leaned over the table to get up and personal with the head watcher. “I have the key. I don’t know what she needs it for but I have a pretty good idea that it is something bad. Now, Mr. Travers, you may be a bitter old man but I don’t think you want the world to end. So, I suggest you tell me what I need to know. Otherwise I won’t be able to protect this key and the whole planet goes to hell. Understand?”
It took a moment for Quentin to answer.
“Understood.”
“Good. Now, tell me what kind of demon I’m fighting.”
“You see, that’s the problem. . . Glory isn’t a demon. She’s a god.”
_________________________________________________________
That seemed to be the chapter that never ends. Finally. Phew. Now we can get on to the good stuff, like Buffy and Spike.
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