Spoilers:
Story started just prior to As You Were and runs through
to the end of Hells Bells. From there on the story goes
AU, so Normal Again, Entropy etc. haven't happened and won't.
For purposes of Angel characters, it's assumed Cordelia
and Groo are still on holiday and Connor is still living
with Angel at the Hyperion, just because it makes my life
simpler.
Disclaimer: I
own nothing. Joss and his friends own everything and everyone.
A/N: I'm quite
stunned. I had a bit of a head cold last week and was still
suffering the after-effects when I wrote and posted the
last chapter. Immediately I posted it up, I decided I wasn't
happy with it, and spent a day trying to decide if I should
delete it off the site, and then all you wonderful people
say really nice things anyway. So thanks to all of you who
reviewed. As to it being a cheat to have all the stuff about
the possible consequences about the chip being removed and
then have him be okay, a) I did point out that the odds
were better than even in his favour, b) I'd had a email
request not to make the chip bit all long and drawn out
(Who wants to know what fantasies and memories being chained
up in a bed are going to cause Spike to have? - actually
that one might be worth reconsidering) c) I left it at a
point where he was lucid but if you compare Buffy receiving
the letters, I meant to imply that he had about another
week after that where he would alternate between being himself
and being delusional, it just had the potential to be all
very much more of the same, so I thought it was better to
move things along.
Another fairly short
chapter, but it seemed like a good place to stop, and it's
our turn to finally get to see Seeing Red so I wanted to
be finished early.
Chapter 14
Spike was sure the Watcher was trying to
hit every pothole possible and while the coffin he'd chosen
was comfortably padded, it didn't actually help much when
the whole thing was sliding from side to side in the back
of. whatever he was in the back of. Suddenly Spike had a
vision of Giles driving through central London in a car
not unlike his old Citroen with a coffin loosely strapped
to the roof rack. 'Not even Giles, I hope.' But then
Giles was a man with a past, and he could be ruthless when
it was called for, if he thought someone might have taken
advantage of his charge, for example.
Spike tried to remember exactly what information
he had given the other Englishman when he originally asked
for his help. More to the point, what might he have heard
from Willow or the other Scoobies? It would be just Spike's
luck to be in the middle of a transatlantic flight when
Xander finally realised why Spike had been doing "nude push-ups"
and the bricklayer would waste no time informing the Watcher.
Just because he'd finally got Buffy to agree to make a fresh
start with everything out in the open, didn't mean that
the rest of the group were okay with it, (if they knew).
He pressed a button to illuminate the dial
on his watch. It was fifteen minutes since he'd thought
he'd been transferred from the plane to his latest mode
of transport. Surely, if he'd wanted the Watcher could have
found somewhere quiet to pull in and let him out by now.
Instead of which he seemed to be taking up rally driving,
causing Spike to rattle around in his ever so slightly claustrophobic
padded cell.
He decided he was going to just have to
make the best of it at least until they stopped moving.
Giles cast another glance in his rear view
mirror. He'd changed lanes three times and taken several
unnecessary turnings but the white van with tinted windows
was still following, hanging back far enough that they could
duplicate any sudden manoeuvres Giles made.
Finally, Giles found himself first in line
at the traffic lights. Just as they were about to change
he slammed the van into gear, cut through the filter lane
and swung across in front of the oncoming traffic taking
the right hand turn with a second to spare. The white van
was still boxed in several cars back and its occupants were
unable to see Giles next sharp turn. Once he was sure the
van wouldn't be easily spotted he moved round to climb in
through the rear doors. He unscrewed the brass plated wing
nut fastenings on the coffin and finally released a slightly
battered vampire.
"Bloody hell, Watcher, you could have taken
it a bit easier on the bends."
"Come on, someone's been following us since
the airport. I think there's an underground station a couple
of blocks that way. The van's hired so if we leave it unlocked,
it's a pretty fair bet to report it stolen."
Spike paused to rip open the cardboard
box that was used to transport his "personal effects" pulling
out a black duffle bag. He rummaged around until he found
his lighter and a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he said
to Giles, "I guess that means that flying out of Reno instead
of LA didn't help."
Giles, looked the vampire up and down.
"That's a new look for you." Spikes hair had been cut shorter,
both on top and at the sides, to blend in the partly regrown
shaved section. Lorne had touched up the mid brown hair
dye to cover both where it had washed out and the root growth.
Most startlingly, as a concession to his mode of transport
he was actually wearing a suit. It was a black suit, with
a black shirt and a deep bluish violet tie, but it was a
suit. Instead of his normal boots he wore a pair of black
dress shoes, and Giles was sure that whilst he couldn't
place it there was something different about his face.
"Just in case customs at either end decided
to open things up and have a look. and it's the eyebrow.
It's called make-up." The distinctive double scar through
Spike's eyebrow had indeed been disguised, or at least made
far less noticeable.
The pair made their way via the underground
to the area of London where the lawyer who had visited Spike
had his office. They found a couple of hotel rooms since
Giles thought it was unlikely that he would manage to get
a train home by the time they finished their discussion.
They did make a slight detour on the way to call at an off-licence
and pick up a bottle of good scotch.
Soon the pair were safely ensconced in
Spike's room with a generous glass of whisky each and their
respective ties loosened off.
"You're paying all the charges for that
van, by the way," said Giles.
"Never expected anything else."
"How much money have you got in those accounts
you sent me details of anyway?"
"Enough to clear all their debts, put both
of them through college, pay for a couple of weddings and
have plenty left over. not that they would accept it if
they thought it came from me." Spike raised an eyebrow in
Giles' direction. "If something does happen to me, you'll
see it all goes to her and Dawn, won't you?"
"I'll make sure they get it."
"Good. So, did you manage to get that information
I asked you about?"
"Yes, I did, though I don't know where
you think it's going to get you." Giles pulled a piece of
paper with a name and address from his jacket pocket.
"If anyone outside that firm of lawyers
knows who bought that contract, then it'll be her, and if
anyone can convince her to talk, it'll be me. There's no
point breaking and entering if I can find out what I want
with a couple of questions."
"And then what?"
"Then I see if it was sold on again, until
I find out who had it last."
"And."
"And I make sure that whoever it is, isn't
going to be making any payments to any assassins."
"I feel I should tell you that I can't
condone murder."
"Oh, this isn't going to be murder. When
someone comes after me the way they did, it's suicide."
Spike's eyes were deep blue, so dark as to be almost black.
"No-one uses the people I care about to get to me and gets
away with it."
"Haven't you used that as a means of persuasion
yourself in the past?"
"I can't say I haven't. Let's just say
I plan to provide an object lesson for anyone else who wants
to try threatening my girls." Spike reached in his bag and
withdrew several objects of the type that gave him his name.
He looked across at Giles. "If Riley Finn
hadn't turned up when he did, I would be dead, so would
Buffy and Bit would be left on her own. That's why when
I find out who's behind this, it's going to get messy and
if you tell me you would do any less to someone who would
hurt them, then you're not the man I think you are."
An hour later attired in a rather more
casual manner than before, Spike was checking out the lawyers'
offices. Even at half past eleven at night there still appeared
to be people working. A security guard was seated at a desk
in the main foyer where he could see everyone entering or
leaving the building. Nevertheless, Spike noticed that every
so often someone would come out onto the fire escape at
the back of the building, smoke a cigarette or two, and
then go back in. You just have to love these no-smoking
buildings.
Spike kept watch on the building for another
couple of hours, noting that almost all the staff left by
twelve-thirty, and after they had gone the security guard
was joined by a colleague who had evidently been patrolling
the building earlier. The two talked while they drank coffee
from plastic cups that the second guard had brought with
him and when they finished the first guard left to do his
rounds of the building and the second guard took over at
the front desk.
Spike suspected that the smokers had probably
temporarily disabled the alarm, which should have sounded
when the back doors to the offices were opened, or the alarm
system was not switched on until all the legal staff had
left. Either way Spike could make it work for him.
The next day was dull and forecast to remain
overcast and wet. This let Spike indulge himself and he
toured the shops of Camden and Carnaby Street. He deliberately
avoided buying another coat similar to his duster, but he
did get a leather jacket cut like a blazer and another pair
of New Rocks. He bought a couple of shirts and a couple
of pairs of black jeans. To top off the purchases he bought
some black hooded tops. Then because he couldn't resist
the idea he bought a little mini-kilt, some hooped black
and red tights, a black T-shirt with Union Jack print and
some knee-high DM's, all in Dawn's size. The kid would just
look so cute all in punk gear, even if she made him wait
till next Halloween before she'd wear it.
Before he headed back to the area where
he was staying he called into a florist and left with a
large bouquet of pink and white roses. He headed back to
the hotel to get changed. He was almost ready to leave when
there was a knock at his door, immediately followed by Giles'
voice.
"Spike?"
Spike opened the door. "You gave me a bit
of a scare there, Watcher. I thought you'd headed off home."
"Well, I went home and picked up my car,
reported the van stolen and so forth, but I decided it might
be better if I was more readily available if you were in
need of assistance. Anyway, I've arranged to stay in town
at a friend's while you're here. If you need to get hold
of me, this is the number. I must say, it doesn't look as
if you're planning on doing anything larcenous tonight.
In fact, appearances would seem to indicate that you're
going on a date."
"Sort of, hopefully, except the only thing
I'm trying to score is information. You on the other hand."
Spike looked pointedly at the name Olivia, which was written
above the phone number Giles had just given him. "Here,
you take these, I'll pick up some more on my way." He passed
the bouquet to Giles as he left the room. As he walked down
the corridor ahead of Giles, back towards the hotel reception
he couldn't resist a jibe. "Old guy like you probably needs
things like that more than I do anyway."
"I say."
After a tube journey, a visit to an off-licence
and a visit to another florist Spike arrived at his intended
destination for the evening. The apartment block was rather
plush and though he was out of touch with London property
values he knew that something like this would run well into
six figures. Either her family had money, or Giles was making
a lot more than he let on. Given Buffy's financial difficulties
he suspected the former. He wondered if his little plan
was going to work as well as he hoped, but decided to brazen
it out. He'd timed his arrival for seven-thirty, reasoning
that if she had a date, she hopefully wouldn't be getting
picked up until at least eight, but by seven-thirty she
should definitely be back from work.
He pressed the button for the intercom
through to her flat. "Delivery for Miss Macallister." He
lowered his head slightly so that the video camera above
the door wouldn't show a clear picture of his face. He needn't
have bothered. A buzzer sounded and when he pushed the outer
door he found it open. He made his way up to the third floor.
When he reached the apartment the door was slightly ajar.
He knocked lightly on the doorframe.
A young woman came to the door, dressed
in a robe with her dark hair still wet.
"Hiya. D'ye need a signature?" The Scottish
accent confirmed that this was not the girl he was looking
for.
"Actually, pet, it's not really a delivery,
just me some wine and some flowers. I thought it'd be a
bit of a surprise. Is she not in?"
"Ronnie?" The name he'd been given was
Veronica, but he reckoned that was close enough.
"Yeah."
"She'll be back in a wee while. She's just
gone to get some videos. Come in and have a seat while you're
waitin'."
'That'll do very nicely', thought
Spike, crossing the threshold unimpeded.
"So how do ye come to know Ronnie then?"
The girl continued the conversation as she moved through
to a bedroom, closing the door over, but not quite shutting
it. He could hear sounds of her getting dressed as they
continued.
"Well, it was when she was in America a
couple of years ago. I just thought I'd look her up while
I was over here for a visit."
"So when you said surprise, ye meant really
big surprise."
"I think so."
The girl reappeared wearing jeans and a
vest top. "I must say ye're an improvement on that creep
that's normally hangin' 'roun'. I'm Isobel, her cousin,
by the way."
"Will. Which creep's this?" Spike had an
intuitive feeling this was something he needed to know.
"That auld guy she works with or for or
whatever. Always wantin' to give her lifts. Sendin' flowers,
supposedly 'cos she's so good at her job. No' that she isn't,
but anybody other than her would know he's just an auld
perv."
She picked up a card lying next to a vase
of carnations. "See."
'In appreciation for your efforts above
and beyond, Q'
"Yeah, definitely, pervert."
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