Disclaimer:
Okay, this is a little bit late, but I never said I was organised.
For those of you not on the mailing list, this is to let you know
that the whole Angel quandary/ phone call idea didn't come from
my imagination, but from that of my beta reader t_geyer. It was
her email entitled "A silly idea" that brought so many
of you so much enjoyment.
Chapter 2.13
Friday, May 17th, 2002
Buffy was thinking that this could rapidly become
one of her favourite pastimes. There was something both restful
and arousing about watching Spike at work in the kitchen. His
movements were so concise and efficient, not to say that they
were without his usual flare, but he always seemed to be in perfect
control of what was going on around him. It was a total contrast
to the bombsite that the kitchen became when she endeavoured to
cook.
"Earth to Buffy! Tara was trying to tell you
something. if you can take your eyes off Spike long enough to
notice that you're being spoken to."
"Wh—what? I was listening. I just— I mean—" Buffy
stuttered in her confusion.
"She said, pet, that Doc's shop had been cleared
out and that the watcher thinks my newest baby brother is responsible,"
Spike informed her as he brought a plate of pizza garlic bread
through to deposit it on the coffee table. He snagged a single
slice to munch on as he made his way back to the kitchen.
"I thought vamps and garlic weren't supposed
to mix?" Tara asked a question that had been troubling her for
some time.
"That does seem to be the general consensus.
I mean, to a vamp, the smell can be pretty overpowerin'. Peaches
used to have a fit if he smelled the stuff. Thing was, I got into
all the spicy food. Chilli, curry, piri-piri, buffalo wings, you
name it. Then, when I had a go at cookin' for myself, I realised
that every single one had garlic in. Go figure. Never bothered
me, yet."
"Wait up, galloping gourmet. Doc's shop is empty?"
Buffy asked as the conversation finally permeated her Spike-addled
brain.
Tara nodded. "The shutters were ripped apart
and the shop was totally emptied, except for the cash register.
They left it. And there were two envelopes, one marked William,
which Wes has, and one marked Angel, which he left."
"What about the body and the apartment in back?"
Buffy asked
"The body was gone, and they left the sort of
day to day stuff, groceries, clothes and stuff, but it looked
like they took any books or papers they could find."
"Guess we're goin' to manage two LA phone calls
in one day then, pet."
"Why?" Buffy asked, sure from Spike's smile that
there was more to the answer than just letting her ex know of
the letter's existence.
"Well, if there's some nasty trick on those envelopes,
I'd just as soon Peaches opened his first," Spike responded with
a smirk. "We've got a guinea pig. Might as well use him."
"Spi-ike. That's..."
"Evil? Unscrupulous? Downright naughty?" The
vampire cocked an eyebrow at her, his tongue running across his
upper teeth before he went back to stirring the pasta sauce he
was making.
"You can't set Angel up like that."
"Can't?" Spike asked in a tone that plainly wanted
to know if that were a dare.
The discussion, however, was interrupted by the
doorbell.
Dawn dashed for the door with Rogue following
behind, barking her head off at the interruption.
"So did the— Wes manage to load everything in
one trip, or is he going to have to head back up there?" Spike
managed to change the topic of conversation to something more
suited for general consumption before Dawn ushered in her boyfriend.
Rogue immediately proceeded to try to lick the newcomer to death.
Spike tossed his head in disgust at the dog's perfidy.
"One life, all packed up and space to spare."
"Hi!" the youth greeted the others in the room.
"Dad's just parking the car and getting Dawn's assignments." He
gave Dawn an apologetic glance. "He said he'll be in in five minutes,
just that there's some guy trying to reverse a trailer into the
driveway across the street and not having much luck so he's kind
of blocking the road."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Glinda, can you keep
an eye on everythin'? Make sure nothin' sticks, but no testing
the sauce in the small pan. It's got my secret ingredient in.
Me and Buffy best see if we can give our new neighbour a hand.
Niblet, mind your manners and take Brandon's coat for him. We'll
be back in a minute."
It didn't take long for the two superhumanly
strong beings to uncouple the trailer and manhandle it to the
far end of the driveway, though Buffy was more grateful than she
would have liked to admit that she had the orbs. Soon, both the
trailer and Wes's car were safely parked on the driveway of his
new home, leaving space for Mr Michaels' pickup on the street
outside Buffy's house.
Spike hung back to speak to Wesley, informing
him that if he cared to leave the unpacking for an hour or two,
then he would be able to eat along with everyone else and most
likely get a helping hand when people were done.
Buffy meanwhile moved to intercept Mr Michaels
as he climbed out of his pickup truck, offering to carry the books
and papers he had with him.
"It's really good of you to come, Mr Michaels,
and it's a huge help picking up Dawn's assignments and her books
from her locker. Thank you."
"It's Andrew and, the way I see it, I brought
Brandon here knowing it wasn't an ordinary town. I owe it to him
to tell him, but it would be pretty difficult without exposing
him to sensitive material. I guess with your help I can bring
him up to speed without him thinking that I've gone too crazy."
"We just want Dawn to feel like she doesn't have
to be ashamed of her family and their friends. She was pretty
disappointed when we wouldn't let her bring him to our engagement
party because some of the other guests were demons. Since then,
from what we've seen, we think Brandon will probably take our
friends as he finds them. We think he's earned a degree of trust,
and it's not fair to him if he's going to find himself in certain
situations because he's dating my sister for him not to have any
understanding of what's happening. And, Dawn's got an invite to
a party tomorrow night and she wants to take him. But, I guess
before we get that far we get to have dinner. And by the way,
I'd pass on Spike's 'special' sauce, unless you're keen on pigs'
blood."
Spike gave a derisive snort and Buffy turned
to find that he and Wesley were just behind them. "As if I'd offer
my special recipe to just anyone? That'd be right."
"It didn't stop you getting Dawn to taste it."
"Served her right for putting extra salt in the
other sauce before it had reduced down."
"I sometimes wonder which one is older, him or
Dawn." Buffy commented. "Sometimes they make me feel about a thousand.
You must feel the same living alone with a sixteen-year-old."
"Well, I would, if it weren't for the fact that
Brandon's eighteen."
There was a sighing as Spike drew in a huge breath,
but instead of bellowing like he wanted to, he exhaled again quietly.
"That girl is going to be the death of me. So help me, if she
knew he was three years older and didn't even tell us, I am going
to..." Spike paused, his eyes looking heavenward for inspiration
as his nails bit into his palms.
"Yell at her for five minutes and then end up
cuddling on the back porch?" Buffy suggested.
Spike hunched his shoulders. "Probably... Come
on, if we don't get back in there, Bit'll feed all the garlic
bread to that bloody dog. He is in her year at school,
though, right?"
"Yes," Brandon's father agreed. "What with getting
dragged all over between me and his mom they ended up placing
him a couple of years behind most kids his age."
"Well, at least she didn't flat out lie about
it, then. That's something, I suppose."
"Spike, we're hardly in a position to complain."
Buffy tried to make a case for the defence.
"No, you and his serene Angelicness were in no
position to complain. We are two adults. There's a world of difference."
Spike turned to Brandon's father. "Look, actually, against my
better judgement, I quite like the kid, though I'd never tell
him to his face. I can't say I'm happy about the age difference,
but I can see that, in his position, it's probably difficult to
find common ground with girls his own age who're looking to go
off to college, but if he does anything to encourage my Bit to
grow up too fast, I will tar the living daylights out of him.
I'm sure you understand where I'm coming from."
"I think any father would."
"Right then. Welcome to Casa Summers." Spike
pushed open the front door of the house and stepped back to let
Wes and Mr Michaels through ahead of him and Buffy.
The meal passed with a nervous anticipation as
everyone waited for the main entertainment for the night, or rather
everyone except Brandon. Even the teenager was aware of the tension
in the air, however. For once Dawn was eagerly clearing away
plates, almost before people had finished with them, in her effort
to have the meal over as soon as possible, only to be thwarted
when Spike announced that dessert would be another ten minutes.
Finally, everyone had had their share of baked
Alaska with fresh raspberries and then coffee, and Spike excused
himself for long enough to top up the nicotine in his system before
"the talk". Buffy helped her sister and Tara to clear the table,
leaving Wes to entertain their other guests for a few minutes.
When she slipped onto the porch to wrap her arms around her vampire
from behind, he simply sighed and leaned into her touch.
"So, you're happy with what we all discussed
earlier? No last-minute second thoughts?" Spike confirmed the
limits of just how much information the group were currently prepared
to share with the Michaels men.
"Nope. For now, at least."
"You do know that Bitty could probably carry
this off better than either of us?"
"Rogue could probably carry it off better than
either of us, but since we didn't brief Wes, we're all we've got
unless you fancy making Tara do it."
"I guess not. Think she'll float a pencil or
something to help make the point when we tell him about magic?"
Spike threw his half-smoked cigarette across the yard and turned
within the circle of Buffy's arms, a gentle hand pushing her hair
back from her forehead so that he could press his lips against
her temple.
"If you ask her nicely," Buffy assured him. "I
think she might."
The vamp pulled back from her embrace, tilting
his head to either side until his neck clicked and then he rolled
his shoulders back, straightening to his full height. "Okay, love...
I guess it's time to do this." He took a deep breath and made
his way back through the kitchen to where their guests were now
congregated in the living room, drawing Tara and Dawn from their
kitchen chores en route. "The dishes will still be there in the
morning, ladies. Time for Doctor Spike and his travelling medicine
show. Performances twice daily, Monday through Friday and three
times a day on weekends." All of a sudden the bombast of Spike
at his evil best was back with a vengeance. Buffy didn't even
complain as Spike lit a fresh cigarette one-handed as he swaggered
into the living room with his other arm still wrapped around her
shoulders.
Tara took up position in an armchair flanking
the blonde couple as they took centre stage in front of the fireplace.
Dawn moved Rogue out of the way so she could sit next to Brandon
on the sofa.
"Alright, kiddies. Time for show and tell. Who
here believes in magic, real magic not David Copperfield, Siegfried
and Roy bullshit?"
Tara tentatively raised her hand, Dawn raised
the hand that wasn't attached to one of Brandon's like an arrow,
Wes raised a casual forearm from the arm of his armchair and Anya
nodded her head emphatically. Brandon looked around the occupants
of the room as if they had all sprouted extra heads, finally turning
to where his father sat beside him.
Spike gave Mr Michaels a sardonic glance. "Guess
you didn't tell him what happened while he was unconscious at
the hospital, then?"
Mr Michaels tilted his head on one side, raised
an eyebrow and shrugged. "He thought he must have got hit on the
head and imagined being shot. I couldn't really come up with a
better explanation. I guess later tonight I'll tell him the truth."
Brandon looked at his father as if he were speaking some strange
foreign language.
"But I did get hit on the head. I have the lump.
What's going on here?"
"I guess we have a sceptic in the house, so maybe
it's time for a little history lesson. This little burg wasn't
always known as Sunnydale. The first settlers here were Spanish.
They called it Boca del Infierno. How's your Spanish, Brandon?
You know what that means?" The vampire raised a questioning eyebrow.
"The Mouth of Hell?" the teenager asked, still
unsure where this was going.
"Well, I guess the education system isn't totally
up shit creek. So, back in the day the locals called this place
the mouth of hell. These days the Anglos stick a pretty name on
it, and try to pretend they don't know what happens here. Sunnydale,
sounds like some nice leafy meadow where it only rains if the
people living there give their permission, but there are some
of us who remember the real name, some of us know that the forces
of magic, good and evil, are stronger here than almost anywhere
else on the planet.
Glinda, care to give our guest a demonstration?
Doesn't have to be big or flash, just a little something he can't
explain away."
Tara shrugged and levitated an ashtray from a
side table to hover in mid-air by Spike's hand. The vampire's
cheek muscles tightened on one side as his eyes gleamed with amusement
at the witch's choice of demonstration. He moved his cigarette
to his mouth drawing deeply on it and incidentally freeing his
hand to take the ashtray from the air and place it within easy
reach on the mantelpiece. He drew the cigarette from his mouth
and flicked the sizeable quantity of ash that had accumulated
at its tip into the receptacle. "Thanks, pet, couldn't drop ash
on Joyce's rugs."
Brandon looked from Tara to the vampire, and
then at all the faces around the room, seeing that he and his
father were the only people in the room who didn't seem to regard
floating ashtrays as a run of the mill part of life.
"I think we finally have his attention, Niblet.
Better hold on tight to that hand of his or he might be about
to make a run for it.
"See, the thing is, it's not just magic that's
stronger. There's an energy to the Hellmouth. It draws to it those
demons and creatures of the night who have evil in their blood.
I mean, compared with humans there really aren't that many demons
in the world. Some of them live in seclusion in the forests, in
the mountains, in the seas where they don't have to deal with
the ever-spreading tide of humanity. These guys, they don't bother
anybody. They live their lives and some of them probably have
never even heard of the Hellmouth.
No, the ones who come here are the vampires an'
the other evil bastards, the ones who want to open up the Hellmouth
and destroy the world. You don't find too many friendly demons
in Sunnydale. To most of them, human equals food or prey of one
type or another..." He let his gaze travel slowly up Buffy's body.
"Or most humans. Wes, I think this would be your cue. You know
the speech we're lookin' for."
Wes gave a sardonic smile at being drawn into
the carnival, but at the same time the speech was one he had learned
by heart in childhood and never yet had the opportunity to use.
He didn't so much speak the words as orate, but his amusement
at Spike's overblown production number never left his eyes.
"Into each generation a slayer is born, one girl
in all the world, a Chosen One, one born with the strength and
skill to hunt the vampires, to stop the spread of their evil."
Spike took a last draw on his cigarette as the
watcher spoke, stubbing it out as he neared the end. "So, one
girl, in the whole damn world... Why, you say, are we even bothering
with this? Chances are she's off in the Philippines
or sipping wine in Paris. No such luck. See, that one girl is
right here in front of you. She's got the strength, she's got
the skill, she's got the sacred duty and she's also, like it or
not, got us.
She's got Watchers, guys like Wes here, big with
the languages and the demon lore and she's got Anya here, who
probably knows even more about demons than Wes does, seein' as
how she was one for a little over a thousand years, so you know
who to speak to when you're havin' problems with your history
assignments.
She's got Glinda an' Red with their magic. An'
she's got me." Spike finally shifted into game face. "I watch
her back. Actually, I watch as much of her as I can any chance
I get, but you've probably already noticed that." Spike gave a
rueful smile and extended a hand toward the younger Summers, slipping
back into his human visage as he did so. Dawn released her grip
on Brandon's hand and rose to her feet, slipping under the outstretched
limb and wrapping an arm behind his waist. Her changed position
gave her the perfect view of Brandon's shocked face and she smiled
softly at him, mouthing the words, "It's okay. Promise."
In contrast, Spike gave a deliberately unsettling
grin before continuing in his oratory. "Now you know why I'm not
about to insist that Buffy here demonstrates her demon-slaying
talents for you. So, this all brings us to the stuff that Bitty
here really wants us to tell you. Like I say, most of the demons
hereabouts aren't exactly nice guys. Hell, I'm not a nice guy,
but there are a few who are. Bit's got an invite to a party tomorrow
night, and she's kind of hopin' that you'll accept what we've
told you, and that you'll act as her escort for the event so you
can meet some of our friends.
There's one other thing she wanted explainin'.
She didn't feel right 'bout the fact you've leapt to some conclusions
that might not necessarily be the right ones.
Last year, we ran across some trouble in the
form of a hellbitch called Glory. She decided to use the Niblet
here as a sacrifice in this big ritual she had all set up. Buffy,
bein' Buffy, showed up in the nick of time and saved the day,
but you get someone who's lost their marbles or someone with second
sight an' to them Bitty here looks like a great green light. To
us, she's the same annoying smartass she always was." Spike's
teasing grin took the sting out of his words. "People like the
woman who kidnapped her see her as... Well, who knows how their
minds work? But if anyone or anything is different from them,
as far as they're concerned, it's fair game to treat them however
they want. Sometime, Bit or your dad will explain why I have my
own little grudge against people like her, but that's beside the
point.
If you think Bit here looks like an angel, then
no one in this room, with the possible exception of the lady herself,
is likely to argue with you. Personally, I feel that way about
every woman in the room. They're all something special.
Now, I know this is a hell of a lot to take in,
but what I want you to really understand is the amount of trust
that we're putting in you. In a lot of ways, we've just put ourselves
at your mercy. I just hope I read you right and Dawn read you
right.
Bit, there's some sodas in the fridge. I reckon
maybe you might want to take your fella out to the back porch
so he can see the stars while he thinks his big thoughts. Help
him keep things in perspective. See if you can answer any questions
he's got, within reason." Spike flashed from solemnity to wicked humour in an instant. "But just remind him if he tries to run
off that we're holdin' his dad hostage an' it's a long walk home.
So, Andrew, fancy a beer?"
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