A/N:
I got a bit ahead of myself in last chapter or one before.
For this to work assume that Buffy's visit to 'The Magic
Box' took place first thing in the morning, not towards
the end of the day. Keeping track of this time difference
is a bitch. Whose idea was it to have ball shaped planets,
and all this curvature of the earth and time zones crap
anyway?
Chapter 19
Giles picked up the phone on his desk and
dialled the number for Quentin Travers office.
Back in Los Angeles a sombre group discussed
the situation.
Cordelia was the first to speak up. "I
don't get this whole thing. Surely if the Powers said it
was time for the chip to come out then we shouldn't be getting
with the freaky visions."
"I don't get it either." Lorne replied.
"When I read him, it was plain as day that he loves those
two girls. He'd do anything for them, so why would he lose
it, when he's so close to having a chance at what he wants?
And why didn't I pick up on there being anything wrong with
him before we packed him up and sent him off to England."
"I could give you a theory." Everyone looked
over to where Angel gently bounced Connor up and down in
his arms. Angel tried to work out how to put into words
the idea that was in his head.
"When I lost my soul back in Sunnydale,
I basically lost any control I had over the demon. The feelings
I had for Buffy were totally alien to it. They made me feel
human, so when the demon was in the driving seat, I did
everything I could to destroy Buffy, to destroy the feelings
I had for her. Anything to free the demon from the feeling
of humanity. Without a soul, my demon basically has anything
in me that was ever human beat.
Spike is a totally different animal. Always
has been. Maybe when he was turned, his demon was never
that strong. Dru was never exactly going to be the best
sire. More likely, William was just too damn stubborn to
lie down and let the demon win. Dru said something about
Spike's worth lying in his head and his heart. That was
why she turned him. William was a good man. He was quiet,
painfully shy, overly sensitive, a total romantic. No one
except Dru would have looked at him and seen a potential
master vampire. If I'd had a use for him I might have turned
him and kept him around like Spike did with that guy Dalton.
It can be handy to have someone around that's a bit bookish,
but you wouldn't make him strong. Only Dru would have looked
at him and seen a potential mate and I only let her because
Darla was fed up of her being around all the time. I'd had
enough of looking after her, so if she wanted her own man
and if William was the one she wanted then I just thought
let her get on with it.
I don't think Spike's demon has ever totally
been in control. There has always been a lot of William
in Spike if you know what you're looking for. Spike has
always. I don't know whether he has more control over his
demon than I have over mine, or whether they've reached
some sort of accommodation between the demon and who he
used to be. I do know Spike has always worked to keep whatever
makes him feel human. He smokes, he drinks and he eats human
food even stuff with garlic in it. He reads. He watches
TV. He listens to music; goes to gigs. He'll do anything
that makes him feel more human. He'd even rather endure
constant emotional pain, than block it out and lose the
ability to feel.
Back in the day, if anyone other than us
hurt him then, he'd absorb the pain into himself, and then
he'd kill the person who caused it, normally messily. That
was his catharsis. If it was one of us, he'd go in for some
sort of self-mutilation. He couldn't free himself from the
pain by killing us. Darla and I were a lot stronger than
he was, at least to begin with, and he doted on Dru from
the minute she turned him. He'd punch walls, mirrors, cut
himself, whatever it took until he could use the physical
pain to distract away from the emotional pain. It was as
if by healing the physical scars, he healed the emotional
ones with them.
He refused to harden himself to the pain.
I'd lay bets he still cries when he reads poetry.
I'd also lay odds that since he's had that
chip he's had a lot of self-inflicted injuries. Everybody
puts up mental barriers. They condition themselves so that
the more abuse they take, the less it hurts, they toughen
themselves up. Everybody except Spike, he's never let himself.
For a hundred and twenty years he's fought to keep what
was left of his humanity. He won't often let it show that
he's been hurt, but he won't allow himself to become inured
to the pain either. While he was chipped, in a way I think
it would make it easier. There was no one except himself
that he could hurt. Now, he's like a child lashing out when
something hurts him, but for the first time he's going to
regret what happens afterwards.
The thing is, if I'm right, it's that same
way of holding on to all the human baggage that means he
can do this whole "good" thing without having a soul.
I think, he should be able to learn to
control it. It never came up after the operation because
the only contact he had was with Lorne. Emotionally, that
probably the least hostile environment you could find. Even
when we were setting up for him going to England, Cordy
and I are the only ones with issues. Cordy stayed away while
he was around and I guess I came to terms with the fact
I've probably done far worse to him over the years than
he's done to me. Like I told Giles regardless of the past
we're family. You heard Lorne say how Spike is going to
interpret what Giles has been saying. Under the circumstances
I think what's happened is understandable, but if Giles
can't stop him in time, Spike won't be able to forgive himself,
especially if it costs him..."
". if it costs him his chance with Buffy."
Lorne finished for him.
"Buffy?!?! What is it with her and all
the cute dead guys?"
'Cute?' thought Angel, his smile reaching
a new level of radiance. 'I think Cordy just called me cute!'
Spike passed his room keys to the
clerk at the reception desk.
"Thank you, sir. Is everything to your
satisfaction?" When Spike found himself appraising the male
clerk to see if the question was less innocent than it might
first seem, he knew that the demon was exerting more influence
than normal. As long as things didn't go any further than
looking, he really couldn't bring himself to care. His appetite
currently ran to vengeance and any other desires he or his
demon might have came a very poor second. He knew that he
was really angrier with the watcher whom he'd once hoped
to call his friend, but that would keep. First he'd deal
with the one who threatened his life.
"Yeah, everything's fine and dandy. I have
to go out for a couple of hours, but I'm going to need a
car later on. I was wondering whether the hotel had an agreement
with any of the car rental firms. I'd like to rent a car
or actually a something like an escort van might be even
better. I'll need it for a day and I wondered if it would
be possible to have it dropped off and picked up at the
car park downstairs."
"I don't think we normally offer that sort
of service, sir, but I could make some phone calls and see
if something can be arranged."
"Thank you." Spike pulled a fifty-pound
note from his wallet. "That should compensate you for your
troubles, and these should cover any reasonable deposit
and the rental." He pulled out several more bills. "I'll
need a receipt from the rental company for my expenses.
I'll be back in an hour or two and if you can I'd like it
to be ready then. If you have a—" Spike had been about
to give the clerk his mobile number in case he had any difficulty
making the arrangements, but then remembered his actions
in the room. "If you have any problems I'll see you when
I get back. Will you still be on duty?" Spike made a mental
note of the name shown on the man's nametag. Apparently
he was an assistant manager.
"I'll probably be in my office," he indicated
a door behind him. "I'm just covering for a break, but if
you ask the person on the desk, they'll fetch me. I'm probably
going to need you to leave your driving licence here as
well, they'll need to see it when they drop off the car."
"Good point." Spike found the relevant
forgery in one of the side pockets of his bag. "Oh, if there
are any options on the insurance, go for the most comprehensive.
As I say, something like an escort van would be ideal, but
nothing smaller, and in the unlikely event that you can
get something with tinted windows, that would be good. Thanks
again."
Spike pushed his hands into his pockets
and headed out through the hotel's revolving door. By the
time he had walked as far as the small neighbourhood super
market. The receptionist had come back from her break, allowing
the assistant manager to return to his office. By the time
he had selected several rolls of tin foil, three bottles
of Jack Daniels and combed the shelves top to bottom in
an abortive search for duct tape, Giles was on the phone
to the hotel.
"No," the receptionist replied, looking
at the key for Spike's room resting in its cubby-hole. "I'm
afraid he's not in at the moment. Would you like to leave
a message?"
"Do you know when he's expected back, at
all?"
"I'm sorry, someone else must have been
on duty when he left, and he hasn't left any messages."
"I'll try again later on then, rather than
leave a message. Thank you."
'Damn it all!' thought the watcher. 'Why
do I get stuck with trying to find the one vampire that
would be out and about in the midday sun?'
Giles decided it was time he called in
at the hotel.
It took Spike just under an hour to find
a shop that did sell duct tape. Since the shop in question
was two doors up from a small dark looking pub, that appeared
to be a free house, he decided to postpone his return to
the hotel, long enough to see if he could get a pint of
decent beer and a sandwich.
"Hello, I wonder if you can help me?" Giles
spoke to the receptionist. Technically it was his lunch-break,
but he didn't think he would be returning to work somehow.
"I don't know if you remember, but I stayed here a couple
of nights ago in the room next to my son's. I think I may
have dropped my mobile phone when I was in his room. I've
tried ringing it, but I think the battery has gone flat.
I rang here a little while ago, but he was out. Since I
was passing, I thought I would see if it was okay to check
his room?"
"Which room number is your son in, sir?
And do you have any identification?"
Giles pulled a couple of bank cards from
his wallet, saying a silent prayer of thanks that Spike
had been perverse enough to get all his false documentation
under the alias William Randolph Giles. "He's in Room 216
and I was in Room 215, but I'm sure that my room was empty
when I left so it must be in his room."
The girl skimmed through the register until
she found the relevant bookings and checked them against
Giles' ID. She looked intently at Giles, trying to spot
a family resemblance. Unsurprisingly, she remembered Spike.
She thought there was perhaps a vague similarity in their
bone-structures, but then Giles' cheekbones wouldn't look
quite so pronounced given that he was carrying a fair amount
of extra weight compared with his "son".
"I'll just be a moment, sir." She knocked
on the door marked "Duty manager" appearing to discuss the
matter with someone in the room. When the girl came back
out she pulled Spike's room key from the rack. She was followed
by a young man who took over from her on the desk. She moved
round the counter and resumed her conversation with Giles.
"I'm afraid we can't let you go up to the room without someone
to accompany you, but if you can give me a detailed description
of the phone before we get to the room then we can have
a look for it together." The pair moved over to the lift.
Giles was soon looking round Spike's room.
"We never used to be able to get him to tidy his room when
he was a little boy either," he joked when the receptionist
opened the door. Giles knew that mere hours before the room
had been perfectly tidy. He quickly took in the smashed
phone, the empty bottles and the remains of the photograph
in the ashtray. Giles was pleased that he had made the decision
to ring Quentin's office.
He had considered tracking down Spike and
then getting Buffy to speak to him over the phone, but the
photograph if nothing else showed that Spike was currently
not his normal self. Knowing how cutting some of his remarks
could be, Giles was glad that his final plan meant Buffy
wouldn't have to speak to him. If the two were becoming
as close as it might appear, it just meant that Spike would
be better equipped to hurt her. If he'd felt compelled to
burn her picture who could even make a guess as to what
he might say if he were put in contact with her.
Spike entered the reception area of the
hotel, noticing the assistant manager from before was back
on the desk. He smiled as he saw Spike approaching, and
opening the door behind him he picked up an envelope from
the shelf next to the door.
"There you go, sir. The keys, your licence,
the insurance documents and your receipt are in there. The
firm doesn't actually do deliveries and pick-ups, but we
sent a couple of the porters down to get it, and they'll
take it back tomorrow. Opening the envelope, Spike saw that
they had actually managed to get a small van like he'd asked
for and that his change was also in the envelope. He pulled
out a couple of ten pound notes.
"When they get back from dropping it off
tomorrow give them that."
He was just about to head for the garage
when he noticed the key to his room was missing from the
rack. He immediately tensed suspecting that somehow the
Tarakans might have found out where he was; though he was
unsure as to how they might have done so. Taking a deep
breath he checked to see if he could pick up any non-human
scent trails. When he was rewarded with a faint residue
of Giles' cologne he relaxed again and headed for the garage.
It didn't bother him that the watcher was
in his room, although some tiny part of him was briefly
concerned as to what he might say to Buffy, but this was
soon swamped by the knowledge that it didn't matter anyway.
So what if he'd cornered her into saying they might have
a chance. As soon as she decently could she'd make some
excuse to dump him. She wouldn't be able to cope with the
watcher and monkey-boy both telling her she was sick. If
she hadn't already changed her mind before he got back,
it would be a miracle. This is the little chit who'll shag
you blind for six hours and then go crawlin' to her ex,
callin' you worse than muck, sayin' that you're too stupid,
too incompetent to do anything but be her bloody fuck-toy.
The watcher could tell her whatever the fuck he wanted to.
The bint's goin' to ditch you faster than you could bring
up a donner kebab that you'd washed down with a bad pint.
And it probably wouldn't be a prettier sight to see neither.
Before he knew it he had reached the van
and he quickly taped foil to the windows, leaving just a
small strip to see out of and another couple of small holes
which let him use the wing mirrors. He pulled a London A-Z
out of his duffle bag and planned his route, getting out
of the city centre traffic and onto the ring roads and motorways
as quickly as possible. He'd never seen Giles' new car so
he paid no attention to the black BMW sitting near the car
park entrance, or to its occupant.
Giles made a show of noticing the phone
lying on the floor. Picking it up he examined the damage.
"I must have left it on the floor and he's stood on it."
Giles placed the totally ruined phone on the desk. "Oh well,
no point crying over spilt milk. I'll just leave a message
for him to give me a ring." Giles found some of the hotel
stationery and left a note for Spike to ring him as soon
as possible. Then he returned to the hotel foyer with the
receptionist where he was surprised at the greeting he received.
"Mr Giles. I hadn't realised it was you
that Elaine was talking about or I would have got your son
to wait for you. You've only just missed him. He just left
about five minutes ago."
"Did he say where he was going?"
"No, just that he needed to hire a car
or a van for a day. I'm sure he'll get in touch when he
gets back."
"I'm sure he will." Giles replied in a
grim voice.
From the way that the manager had worded
his reply, Giles imagined that he had left on foot to find
a car hire franchise, rather than leaving in his own transport.
So instead of rushing to the garage where he might have
caught Spike as he masked off the van windows, he mouthed
platitudes to make the staff feel better about not getting
him to stay. It was between five and ten minutes later that
he returned to his car.
"We just missed him."
"So what do we do now?"
"There's no choice. He's on his way to
the house. There's practically no chance of picking him
up on the way. We'll just have to head that way and wait."
Spike had had no problem finding Travers'
house. It was remarkably easy, in fact. It was one of those
huge rambling houses situated just outside a small village.
The sort of place you knew would once have been the home
of a local lord or squire or something. A single-track road
led from the village itself to the house. Spike had parked
so that he had an unrestricted view from the rear windows
of the van down that road, whilst at the same time being
one of a number of vehicles lining the street. Only someone
looking closely would wonder about the tinfoil obscuring
the van windows. He planned to wait until he saw Travers
arrive back from "the office" and then drive the van down
the lane, turn it ready in case he needed to make a quick
retreat and park so that he was blocking the driveway. Travers
wouldn't be able to get away by car and if an alarm were
raised then the police would be delayed getting to the house.
Spike wished he'd thought to pick up a
pair of binoculars, but he'd been out of practice for too
long to think of it. Instead he checked over the contents
of his bag laying them out on the floor of the van. Aside
from the duct tape left over from doing the windows, he
had a tin of lighter fluid, some strips cut from an old
cotton sheet, a crow bar, several "spikes" and a sledgehammer.
A pair of handcuffs, some manacles with chains, some lengths
of leather thong, a bundle of plastic cable ties and a small
selection of knives, which nevertheless covered the range
from scalpel to cleaver completed his range of accessories.
He looked over the things he had laid out and tried to think
of anything which might be missing. Okay, so he hadn't gone
as far as Angel's chainsaw idea, but there was enough there
to do the job. He opened the first of the bottles of JD
and waited.
"So, what do you think he'll do? Will he
go straight to the house or will he find somewhere and watch
for him?" Giles asked the watcher in the car's passenger
seat.
"I'd been led to believe that you were
working with him for a fairly extended period of time. Shouldn't
you be the one second guessing his strategy?"
"Yes, quite, I thought Council records
might have had something to say on the subject."
"On this particular subject all we have
are descriptions of the bodies."
"Are you saying that there are no records
of anyone surviving. "interrogation""
"If anyone did they had more sense than
to mention it to anybody. Besides, from the bodies that
were found killing them would have been the kind thing to
do."
"But, it was Spike who intervened when
Angelus was going to." Giles tailed off.
"Yes, but you hadn't given Will
any reason to want you to suffer. Why are you so sure that
Will wants to kill Quentin?"
"Let's just say that I have inside information."
The BMW pulled to a halt at the edge of
the village-square.
"Let's take a walk. See if we can see anything
without tipping him off. Do you know if there's likely to
be anyone else at the house?"
"He has a gardener who works a couple of
days a week, but I don't know which days and his housekeeper
will probably be there about now, but she'll be gone before
he gets home. She normally leaves a casserole or something
for him, so that he just needs to heat it up."
"In that case perhaps we should make this
a brief walk. I wouldn't like to think about Spike keeping
some poor old dear tied up while we're out for a stroll.
I trust you're wearing a cross and you have a stake on you
somewhere."
"I do, but I doubt that I'm likely to need
them."
"From what he'd done to his room, I wouldn't
be too confident."
Giles mobile made the small double beep
that intimated he'd been sent a text message. "What now?"
Giles muttered under his breath, as he tried to open and
read the message whilst maintaining his sedate walking pace.
"Hi G. Sps fn off. Cn u pas on plan.
Anya sez QT dun enuf for ven dem. Cud send to alt real?
A sez best dem cald Fernak. Words for summ to cum next mess.
Buffy."
It took Giles some time to make the necessary
adjustment to his brain patterns to decipher the mangled
almost English of Buffy's message. Giles wondered if sending
a summoning ritual via transatlantic text message would
have the same effect as saying it out loud. He hoped not.
Releasing one demon into the Internet had been bad enough.
He wouldn't like to explain how he came to be involved in
a second similar event.
He passed the phone to Ronnie. It looks
like we have some good news anyway.
"Why don't we see if you think that means
the same in English as I do?"
"Hi Giles. Spike's phone is off. Can you
pass on plan? Anya says Quentin has done enough for a vengeance
demon? He could be sent to an alternate reality? Anya says
the best demon is called Fernak. Words for the summoning
ritual to come in next message. Buffy.
What exactly is it that Quentin is supposed
to have done?" Ronnie passed the phone back to Giles. Almost
as soon as Giles had cleared the first message from the
screen, the double beep sounded again.
"I hope she hasn't butchered the words
for the ritual like she did that last message.
The evidence would suggest that Quentin
set up a ploy to kill Spike and discredit his efforts to
turn over a new leaf. When that failed, he then appears
to have hired the Order of Taraka to kill him instead."
"Oh dear Lord." Ronnie unknowingly mimicked
the man walking alongside her. "Quentin got me to research
them. I gave him the information on how to contact them."
The two had been moving gradually from
the centre of the village toward Travers home.
"He's here. He's watching the road to the
house. Giles pointed toward a white van in the middle distance."
"How do you know?"
"The windows. He did the same thing with
the van we took when we tried to outrun Glory.
I suppose we'd best go pass on Buffy's
message."
The pair walked on until they drew level
with the van. At this point Giles rapped sharply on the
roof of the van with the flat of his hand and Ronnie moved
round to the rear of the van so that she could be seen in
the limited field of view which the gaps in the foil afforded.
Spike almost hit his head on the roof of
the van when the sound echoed through the rear of the van.
Then he saw Ronnie and flung open one of the van's rear
doors.
"What the hell are you doin' here, woman?"
"Someone gave me a lift. He seemed to think
you might listen rather than hit first if it was me talking."
"So is he going to show himself, or is
he just going to hide round the corner in the sunshine?"
Giles moved round the side of the van until
he came into view.
Spike slid sideways towards the front of
the van. "Well, are you two going to get in and shut the
door or do you plan to be standing there for our friend
to see when he comes home?"
Giles hesitated, unsure as to whether he
wanted to join Spike in a confined space when the tone of
his voice was so much colder than was normal.
In contrast Ronnie took a seat on the floor
of the van and then swung her legs around into the vehicle.
This done she slid along until she sat next to Spike. Her
easiness with the vampire made Giles wonder if she actually
knew about Spike's chip being removed but now didn't seem
like a good time to bring the subject up. Out of Giles'
line of sight, Ronnie took Spike's hand in hers and gave
it a quick squeeze. Spike looked over at her in surprise
at the supportive gesture, his eyes mirroring his confusion
but he didn't pull his hand away.
Giles finally stepped into the back of
the van, crouching over until he could get into a sitting
position by the doors with his back to the opposite wall
from Ronnie and Spike.
Spike pulled a pack of cigarettes from
his pocket and flipping the top open pulled one out with
his lips rather than take his hand away from the woman beside
him. The pack returned to his pocket and he brought out
his lighter, flipping it open and igniting it one-handed.
He inhaled deeply as he closed the lighter and put it away
and then exhaled slowly through his nose.
"So, Rupert, what's with the search party.
I thought you'd said your piece earlier." His voice was
icy cool, but his gaze didn't meet the watcher's eyes.
Spike was all too aware that his eyes often
showed his emotions. Right now he wasn't sure what he was
feeling and he was damned if he wanted the watcher to work
it out before he did. He desperately wanted to punch the
older watcher but the confines of the van would have made
it rather awkward and he wasn't sure he wanted to do it
in front of Ronnie. Funny, considering she was a watcher,
but she was probably, apart from Lorne, the only person
who had simply accepted that if he wanted to, he would make
a go of things without the chip. Not only that, part of
him knew that he'd goaded Giles' to be honest. If he couldn't
live with Giles' answer then that was him being a wanker,
not the watcher's fault.
Giles looked over at the vampire in the
corner, deciding confrontation was the best course of action.
"I was just in the process of revising the opinion I gave
you this morning for various reasons, when I got a phone
call this morning." Giles voice was also on the cold emotionless
side. "I didn't want to believe what was said, but when
I saw your hotel room I knew they were right." Giles made
sure he had the vampire's gaze before he continued. "You
did the one thing I never thought you would. You just quit.
Things get a bit hard—" Spike's fist collided with Giles'
jaw, knocking his head back against the side of the van.
Spike was now lying almost full length along the length
of the van. Ronnie had barely managed to pull her legs out
of the way as Spike had launched himself from one end of
the van to the other in a low dive.
Giles reached down and pinned the prone
vampire by his neck. Spike tried to bring his superior strength
to bear to remove the arm, but Giles arm was locked in position
and Spike couldn't get the leverage to break the hold. He
struggled unsuccessfully to land a kick, but the roof of
the van wasn't high enough to let him bring his foot up
and round.
"You don't like being told that do you?
That's what you've done, though, isn't it? You know that's
it if you do what you're planning, but you were going to
go ahead. Since when did you let anyone tell you that you
weren't good enough for anything? You say you love her,
but you just give up on her. Well she didn't quit on you.
If you'd even waited a few hours you would have found out
that she worked out a plan for you, but you just couldn't
bear the thought of sticking around for the long haul. Figured
it would be better just to give up now and get it over quick."
Gradually, as more of what Giles was saying
sank in, Spike's struggles weakened and finally stopped
altogether. Giles released his hold. Spike stayed in his
position on the floor, his eyes closed trying to process
the jumble of emotions inside himself. The frustration and
rage seemed to have melted away. Regret and horror at how
close he'd come to ruining everything came close behind.
He felt once again a small hand taking his and over a period
of minutes he became enveloped in a feeling of comfort.
"Look, I'm sorry about what I said this
morning. I meant it when I said I never thought you'd quit.
I think that means I've got more confidence in you than
I realised."
For a long time, Spike just lay where he
was, not moving until he felt back in control. Finally he
gave Ronnie's hand a squeeze before letting it drop and
sitting up.
"Sorry, Giles. How's the jaw?"
"I'm sure it's fine. It may be slightly
discoloured by tomorrow, but I'm sure I'll live."
"Did you say Buffy has a plan." Spike looked
round the floor of the van, finding his cigarette almost
burnt down to the butt. He picked it up and used it to light
a fresh one before stubbing it out on the floor of the van.
"Does it cover getting information out of Travers before
we don't kill him?"
"No, but if he's neutralised then do we
need information?"
"We do if he's holding potentially embarrassing
photographs, or what if he's not alone in this? Not to mention
the fact that I for one would like to actually know why
someone I've never met wants me dead."
Giles remained silent.
"I guess I'm still going to need my tool-bag
then. Seems to me since we're all here now we may as well
settle this tonight."
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