Entry tags:
Fic: Divided Destiny. Chapter 15
First chapter & notes here (on LJ), for DW just follow the tags, and Master post of whole 'verse here (also tagged on DW).
Can also be found on AO3.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: Teen. (Same warnings as the show basically.)
Characters: Spike, Angel, Illyria, Buffy, Scoobies + cameos from more or less everyone in the 'verse.
Main Ships: Spike/Buffy, Angel/Nina
Feedback: Is bloody ambrosia! (The secret ingredient is otter...)
Word count (this chapter): Almost 5000 words.
Setting and Summary: As before. (Post-NFA epic quest thing.)
Beta: The ever wonderful![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kathyh
Chapter 15
January 2005
Spike stepped through Buffy’s door and into Buffy’s arms. He held her silently for a moment, feeling her warmth through the fabric between them and inhaling her wonderful scent. He never wanted to leave.
But then he let her go, dumping their weapons’ bag by the door and settling down tiredly on her pretty, white sofa. How come that he was so exhausted after a week of doing nothing?
Buffy clearly sensed that something was wrong and looked from him to Angel and then to Illyria who was smiled enigmatically; and then back to Spike again, a frown deepening on her forehead.
“Are you OK? You smell like... smoke... Oh my god, did someone try to set you on fire?”
Angel’s face was a mask, and wordlessly he turned and started looking at the photos scattered on the mantlepiece, body so tense that Spike was sure that if someone tried to touch him he’d rip their head off without even looking who it was first.
Tiredly Spike rubbed his eyes, wondering what the hell to say, then looked at Buffy. “No - we’re...” Seeing the worried look on her face, he faltered. “We’re fine. Technically at least.”
The smell of smoke clung to them, rasping in his throat, and he wanted nothing more than to wash it off, but he knew it’d not help - he’d still remember the scene every time he closed his eyes.
The dead bodies - the lawyer and the shaman both, and the double-cross they symbolised - the flames from Angel’s fire-y torch spreading further and further, the panicked screams…
Buffy was still rather thrown he could tell, obviously wondering what had happened to them... if she’d known Illyria better, Spike reflected, she’d know that the fact that the hell god was happy meant that they’d been stepping over several moral boundaries. Thank goodness she didn’t - although she was clearly expecting more of an answer.
“Look - it’s just... just been a rough week, yeah? But we thought we could come and give you a hand with the girls, like you asked. Could do with a good workout...”
She looked at him silently for a while, then, much to his relief, nodded. She’d probably try to get the story out of him later, but knew that now was not the time. Instead she smiled, her take-charge attitude showing up and masking the discomfort. “That’s great. Your timing is impeccable, ‘cause I was just about to go... Lemme just get changed.”
She disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, and a second later Angel turned, seeking out Spike’s eyes.
“I had to-” he began, but Spike cut him off.
“I know.”
They couldn’t afford to show mercy.
Especially not against traitors... And Spike felt the sting of the treachery again. But then it had been a well-timed lesson: Just because someone hated Wolfram and Hart didn’t mean that they could be trusted. Things had been so simple - so much simpler than back here they’d thought. Some demons had been against them, others had helped. Some had been trying to trick them, but the attempts had been so obvious - there were creatures like Willy everywhere.
This had been different. They couldn’t even be sure if it’d been the whole clan acting together, or just the shaman working on his own. Overall they’d just been so... harmless. Like all artists, so absorbed in their work that they invariably came off as somewhat aloof - and defenseless in the face of true danger. Spike was sure that if he’d asked what they thought of fighting and war they would have echoed his own words from many, many years ago:
‘We prefer not to think of such dark, ugly business at all. We prefer placing our energies into creating things of beauty.’
But pathetic little poets got murdered in dark alleys, and artists who tried to get themselves back in favour with the establishment got punished by those trying to overthrow the status quo.
He buried his head in his hands, not wanting to look at Angel and see the self-loathing magnified. It was all too complicated and difficult - and he didn’t like it. There was good, and there was bad - surely they shouldn’t be so muddled up? For the first time he truly began questioning the nature of their quest. Then with a start he remembered that they’d actually been successful - were another step closer to their goal.
But at that moment Buffy returned, and he’d have to wait until later before adding the new piece of Key to the rest. He should feel elated - and yet it struck him that they had found all three pieces in ways that made him deeply uncomfortable. Maybe it was cursed? Or maybe it was just the inevitable result of being messed up in W&H business... everything got tainted and murky.
He needed a distraction, and thankfully Buffy was there to provide it. She of course looked amazing - her legs wrapped in tight black leggings with a pale blue tank top above was balm to his eyes. She’d pulled her hair back into a practical ponytail, but he could still almost feel the silkiness of it beneath his fingers... She was softness and strength all wrapped up together, and he still found it hard to believe that she was really his. That when he caught her eyes, like now, she smiled at him in a way that made everything else fuzzy and out of focus.
Angel turned, swiftly putting back the photo he’d absently held in his hands, then looked at Buffy, face blank, and asked simply, “We going?” and Buffy frowned again.
Illyria, who’d been silent and lost in a world of her own, suddenly snapped her head round. Looking from one to the other, she held out her axe to Spike with the words: “Clean it!”
He stared at her, wanting to tell her to go to hell, but with a sigh he realised that Angel was her favourite for the foreseeable future, and she’d also expect lots of gratitude - which in her world equalled servitude - for saving their lives. Rolling his eyes he muttered, “Fine!” and got up, before getting a cloth from Buffy’s weapons’ chest.
“Kill anything fun?” Buffy asked, trying to make conversation as she tied the laces on her trainers, and Illyria looked at her; a tiny, triumphant smile on her lips.
“Lawyer.”
“Oh,” Buffy answered, and didn’t ask anymore. A moment later Spike handed the axe back to Illyria, hoping that Buffy’s curiosity was satisfied for good - if she thought they felt guilty over Illyria’s kill, that was fine... because he didn’t want to talk; didn’t want to try to put into words all the complex feelings and myriad shades of guilt that he now carried around. Briefly he wondered when he’d stopped thinking of lawyers as human, and worthy of anguish.
“Ready?” Angel asked, and Buffy nodded as Spike picked up their bag. They’d not had any use for it this time around... If nothing else they had lots of new darts.
It was a grey and overcast day, so they needn’t worry about burning up. As they set off, Buffy took Spike’s hand, and he grasped onto her like the lifeline she was. He desperately wanted to haul her off somewhere and do his best to drown in her, but that was out of the question until whenever Angel had left - if he was leaving. The fact that Angel probably wouldn’t mind the two of them making out under his nose - might even welcome the added pain - ruled it out even more...
Whenever Spike tried to work out just how their relationship fitted, he got a headache.
“So,” he asked, holding Buffy’s hand a little tighter, “What do you want us to do with the lil’ ones?”
She sighed. “Well, you know they were all the most ‘hopeless’ ones - those that would never have been called if it wasn’t for me. Like... some of them were insecure, and some were totally unimaginative, and some had just freaked out... I used to have almost 20, but about half left in the autumn - which is good, of course. Buffy’s extra-special training program works wonders! The problem is that... I think I’ve been doing too good a job,” she smiled wryly. “They’re all brilliant now, and think they’re kinda invincible. And now of course there’s this apocalypse coming - again...” her voice trailed off and Angel turned his head to look at her.
“It’s going to be bad?”
She nodded, and the frown was back. But now it was obviously there because of her own problems.
“I thought that... things would be easier now there are lots of us, but instead I’m just worrying how many are going to die - because of me. Again. If Willow is right, this thing goes down in about a year’s time, but we still don’t know where... Oh and there’s supposed to be lots of signs and stuff, not sure what exactly, so keep your eyes open for two-headed cats and a rain of stones...”
Despite the half-joke, there was a tired note in her voice that reminded Spike of times he’d rather not think about, and he could see Angel sinking even further down into brood mode. Well this had to stop - before long they’d all be sitting in a corner somewhere, drinking whiskey and listening to Country music. Time for him to shake things up a little.
“Well - if you see the Four Horsemen, tell them hello from Spike!”
“Huh?” She turned her head, and he grinned at her. Angel even pulled himself out of his self-imposed silence and shot him a droll look. “You never told her? Or were you so drunk that you’ve only just remembered?”
He laughed. “Nah - but she put a veto on talking about anything apocalypse-related for Christmas.”
Buffy was looking at them both, unsure whether to take them seriously or not. “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - you... met them?”
He nodded proudly, and felt that thrill of pure excitement again - there were legends and then there were legends...
“Bloody brilliant guys, to tell you the truth. Oh and if they show up, then whoever is organising your apocalypse has plenty of spare change - their fee is fuckin’ astronomical. But then that’s the thing with being famous - they got their name into the big book, and now they’ve got it made. Oh and -” He turned to Buffy and raised an eyebrow, “-they really like you.”
She stared at him. “Me?”
“Quite the fans to be honest. I mean they’d heard ‘bout me and Angel obviously, what with tryin’ to save or destroy the world a few times, but you’re in a league of your own.”
She flushed, unable to stop a genuine smile deepening, and he could feel the world beginning to feel right again.
Angel rolled his eyes. “You turned into Andrew, and you know it. I’m surprised you didn’t ask for their autograph.”
“I did!” Spike countered, rooting through his pockets, after a moment’s search bringing out one of his cards, with four signatures crammed onto the back.
Studying it, Angel shook his head. “You’re insane.”
Spike grinned. “Well if we’re ever in need of cash that will fetch a small fortune on eBay.”
Illyria didn’t say anything, but Spike had the distinct impression that she’d pricked up her ears when the talk turned to money.
Which was so weird that he decided to ignore it.
Then they began discussing what to do with the baby Slayers, and by the time they reached the Council building had worked out a nice strategy that hopefully ought to unsettle them enough to sit up and take notice.
As Spike and Angel watched the warm-up a little later, Spike cast the other vampire a droll look, “So - ready to shatter some illusions?”
“Ready to help them grow up,” Angel answered, studying the vivid young faces of the girls as they went through their exercises. Spike tilted his head.
“Oh and you might like to know that Cora - the black girl, in the green top - is left-handed; Gemma - the brown haired one with the ponytail - has a way with an axe that’s quite something; although Kristina - the blonde gawky-looking one - is probably the best of the lot. Watch out, she’s got imagination!”
Angel turned his head, frowning. “You’ve done this before?”
Spike shrugged. “Given Buffy a hand a couple of times, nothin’ more than some simple sparrin’... Oh - try to ignore the smell. First time they pretty much walked all over me ‘cause I kept gettin’ distracted.”
Angel rolled his eyes, and then they straightened up and gripped their wooden swords as Buffy called the girls together.
“OK. You know how I said that we need to train extra hard, because of the apocalypse? Well we just got some help!” She indicated Spike and Angel with her hand, and a quick flurry of excitement flared up, before Buffy’s stern eyes quelled it. But Spike noticed all the swift, adoring glances sent their way. And suddenly he could again see bright orange flames licking up against a black sky, and hear the screams of panic...
All the way down memory lane, the same cries echoed, and this was a fresh reminder again of what he was... He had joked once that he and Angel had a good cop/bad cop thing going - except it wasn’t funny when the good cop had to let the bad one beat the witness into oblivion...
He shuddered, and vowed to stop those adoring looks for good, if he could at all help it. He knew none of the girls had ever connected the dots between Spike-Buffy’s-boyfriend and Spike-the-slayer-of-Slayers in a real and tangible way. Absentmindedly he grabbed hold of his pendant, taking a deep breath as he felt its reassuring weight against his palm.
“I know you’re very good,” Buffy continued, and the young Slayers all smiled proudly, “but - and that is a big but - “ Spike saw some of the girls try to hide a smile, before Buffy swiftly continued, “- you’ve never really had any proper big fights - and no, that gross sewer thing doesn’t count, nor does that battle with the Frofundo clan. I mean fights where your opponent is older, stronger and more experienced than you, and will kick your ass! So - please say hello to today's guests - two Champions who more than fulfill those criteria.”
Spike could almost feel Angel wince, but there it was. He cleared his throat.
“OK then my ladies - grab your pointy sticks and let’s see what you’re made of!”
Spike smiled, turning the charm up as far as he could, and he saw two of them blush. Oh, fighting dirty could be fun...
“But-” a dark haired girl spoke up, a little shyly, “Won’t that be dangerous... for you I mean?”
Spike shook his head, incredulous. He had to hand it to Buffy, these girls weren’t lacking in confidence.
“Listen pet, it won’t come to that. An’ if it does - in which case I’ll dress up in a tutu and sing ‘Mandy’ - we’re wearing armour, so knock yourself out!”
“Oh,” she said, obviously rather flummoxed, and Spike grinned. He could see Buffy’s brow draw together, but he didn’t care. He was itching for a good fight, not having had a decent one in weeks - and this one was just the ticket.
“Step on up then!” he called out, and they looked at each other.
“What - all nine of us against just you two?” Gemma asked.
“Well duh!” Spike replied.
“But... that doesn’t seem fair.”
“Fair’s got nothing to do with it,” Angel said, voice calm and deceptively light, but Spike could hear the strain underneath.
There was another moment’s hesitation, but then the girls attacked, and finally Spike could forget about everything that weighed on him.
It was probably insane - trying to fight nine slayers at once, but to begin with there was quite simply not enough space, and it was rather amusing to see them almost jostling for room... and Buffy was right. They were good - but not used to smart opponents. Spike took two down within the first minute, and then Kristina’s stake got far too close for comfort - damn that girl was fast - before he managed to slip under her defenses. As he and Angel thinned the crowd they split up, and suddenly they were both fighting one-against-one... and then the game was up.
Spike looked down at the last slayer - who’d been standing just a moment earlier - and frowned in surprise. He turned to Angel, and saw the other with the same puzzled look on his face.
“Well that’s... did she just go down too?”
Angel nodded.
Spike looked round at the rather sheepish looking girls, and couldn’t help smiling. “Hey - the first time I fought Buffy, I got the better of her too!”
He could see Buffy open her mouth, and stopped her before she could speak. “Oh I so did! If it hadn’t been for your mum...”
One if the girls - Megan he thought her name was - piped up.
“Her mother?”
Spike nodded. “Hit me over the head with an axe. Brilliant woman, Joyce Summers!”
He caught Buffy’s eyes, and suddenly the whole world fell away. “’No one puts a hand on my little girl’, she said...”
Buffy smiled, eyes huge and shining, and he was one step away from crossing the room and pulling her into his arms, when he remembered where they were.
“Anyway - she held her own. Which is more than I can say for you...” He let his eyes travel over the girls, then shot Angel a look, and the other continued, speaking to Buffy.
“You’ve trained them too well. They’re formidable as a group, but once they’re on their own they flag.”
Spike could see Buffy nodding slowly, and smiled a little. “Kinda bizarre, I gotta tell you. Wanna show ‘em how it’s done?”
A wicked glint appeared in Buffy’s eyes, and she nodded.
***
Angel settled down on one of the benches along the wall, watching as Spike threw off his duster before he and Buffy began circling each other. He could sense the anticipation in the girls next to him, and couldn’t help sharing some of it - although he couldn’t shake the feeling of deja-vu that settled over him... thankfully though, this time the ending would be different.
Then suddenly Spike pounced and all thoughts vanished as Angel became utterly absorbed in the battle that unfolded. He noticed that Buffy had a stake in her hand, and she had a few almost-hits that Spike laughed off. Angel saw him try the move that had done for her last time, but now she slipped away easily, and Angel marvelled again at how amazing she was. He remembered sparring with her himself, and how easily things had almost gotten out of hand...
Focus, focus - don’t think about the past, don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve lost her for good...
The fight flowed back and forth, skill and cunning and strength unfolding in an astonishing display that kept the onlookers riveted. Suddenly Spike sent Buffy crashing into a wall, but she kicked his legs out from underneath him and the next second she was straddling him, stake to his chest.
“See?”
She looked around at the avid faces, triumph and a touch of smugness in her eyes. The girls broke into spontaneous applause - eyes bright and excited and obviously hero-worshipping Buffy even more than before.
Angel noticed the second she shifted her weight a fraction, but even so he was almost taken aback at Spike’s swift reaction. In the blink of an eye he had reversed their positions, his hands around Buffy’s throat.
He looked up at the shocked faces, eyes hard and cold: “And now - she’s dead.”
Angel followed his gaze, saw certainties crushed into nothing. It was clear that the girls thought that Buffy could do no wrong, could never fail - and now they’d witnessed her bested in front of their eyes. And her cool, handsome, charming boyfriend had just reminded them that he was a murderer.
Then Spike continued, voice calm and matter of fact; but Angel knew exactly what his thoughts - his memories - were at this moment. Face after face springing to life unbidden, the blood on their hands that refused to go away...
“This was how I killed my second Slayer. She hesitated just a moment too long and then - I snapped her neck.”
The girls were silent, and abruptly Spike jumped up, then slowly - almost hesitantly - holding out his hand to Buffy.
“Sooner or later,” he continued, “You will fight alone with no one watching your back. You mess up - you die.”
Buffy took a deep breath, and shot Spike a swift look. “Thank you.”
Then she focussed on her charges again. “Dying is easy. The problem is that we are Slayers...”
She swallowed. “You might not just fight for your own life - you might be fighting for the fate of the whole world. And in an apocalypse you get creatures far stronger than anything you’ve ever seen...”
She shot Angel a look, since he was sat next to the door, and he swiftly located their pièce de résistance.
“This is Illyria,” he said as she walked in, cooly looking over the Slayers staring at her. “She is a hell god from before the time of men.”
The girls looked a little dubious now, but Angel turned to Spike and saw the other smirking.
“Buffy - lend us a weapon, yeah? Something strong but ugly.”
She nodded and fetched an axe, and Spike weighed in his hands, assessing.
“This’ll do. Right girls, pay careful attention. You ready Blue?”
Illyria didn’t move, and Spike shrugged, then lifted the axe before swinging it with deadly force and accuracy towards Illyria’s head. At least two of the Slayers cried out in alarm, but then Angel heard them all gasp as the blade of the axe shattered against the god’s head.
Slowly she turned her head towards him. “Are you done?”
“I... yep,” he replied, and she walked out, clearly wishing that she wasn’t forced to hang out with such lowlives.
“That’s the kind of creature you might be facing,” Buffy continued, and the girls stared at her, clearly having had a lot of their world view scrambled.
“When you’ve worked out how to deal with that, let me know! I don’t have all the answers, I just tend to make it up as I go along. We are formidable together - but I need every single one of you to be everything you can be. Every apocalypse is different. You might have a role to play. Your idea or work or input might be the things that tips the balance. So remember - it’s OK to be scared, but what you do with that fear is what determines the outcome.”
Settling down again next to Angel, Spike folded his arms and tilted his head critically.
“She’s gotten a lot better at this, you know.”
Off Angel’s surprised look, he chuckled.
“The speechifying. Back when we were dealing with The First… Well, it got a bit tedious.”
Angel looked as if he was going to say something, then thought better of it.
***
Johnson’s office was very cosy, and somehow very out of place in the Italianness of the building, looking more like a hobbit’s home than a Renaissance room.
Spike and Angel had elected to wait there while Buffy sorted out the Slayers’ patrolling schedules and other boring tasks, not really knowing what to do with themselves.
Spike slumped down in the sofa and pulled out the two bits of Key. Holding them together they did the freaky melding thing again, and he shook his head. Magic was an inevitable part of life, but he didn’t like the way this thing weirded him out.
Tucking the Key back in his pocket, he picked up the cloth Illyria had wrapped the Key fragment in. Looking at it more closely he saw that it was actually a shroud of some kind, the finely woven fabric covered in writing.
When Johnson entered a few minutes later Spike held the fabric out towards him.
“Thought you might like this, mate. No idea what it is, but it looks like your kind of thing.”
The Watcher stopped in his tracks and reverently plucked it out of Spike’s hand, then carefully started looking it over, eyebrows sailing to the top of his head as he did so.
“This is... this is astonishing. Really, it’s... I can’t tell you... this could change-”
He stopped and looked up at the two vampires. “Where did you find this? It was supposed to be lost forever...”
Spike shrugged. “Illyria picked it up in this labyrinth that no one can get out of - until she came along at least. What is it?”
“I think... I mean I’m not sure, but I think that it could be The Shroud of Kizrath. The difference this will mean can’t be overestimated...”
Angel’s eyes narrowed. “You mean this has info on this apocalypse of yours?”
Johnson looked up, a little thrown. “What? Oh no, not at all. This is a... a historical document, telling the life story of Kizrath… we have a few snippets of his legend, and some say that they were just stories of other warriors that got a little mixed up... But look-”
He laid the shroud on his desk, and pointed to a bit of writing that looked just as incomprehensible as the rest to Spike.
“Here is the tale of when he met the sea serpent of Drok’kheen - I knew it was real - and oh... wait, this is complicated... Goodness... Please excuse me while I phone Mr Giles...”
The vampires shared a look, and retreated.
In the hallway, Spike stopped and turned to Angel.
“So what are we doing?”
Angel didn’t answer, and Spike frowned. “Angel?”
The other sighed.
“I... I don’t know. I’m just... tired.”
Spike nodded slowly, taking in what the words implied. “Do you want me to... Is there anything I can do?”
Angel shook his head silently, and Spike knew that this was one of the times where the Buffy situation complicated everything immensely. Angel wasn’t an over-sharer at the best of times, but there had been a closeness (and was that ever an uncomfortable word!) between them in the pre-Rome months which was lacking now.
Then suddenly Angel seemed to pull himself together.
“I think I’ll go see Nina. Will be back tomorrow, OK? Be ready to go early. And it might be a good idea not to leave this building.”
There was something hiding somewhere in his eyes, something Spike couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he had a feeling that Angel had made some sort of decision.
It worried him that he couldn’t work out what it was.
A little after Angel had left, Buffy returned. After a lot of very satisfying kisses, her eyes suddenly widened and she pulled out her cellphone.
“I never called Willow back! Just excuse me for a minute, she’s going to be really pissed off...”
A little later she put the cell down. “She didn’t pick up. That’s... odd.” She looked a little worried, but then shrugged it off as Spike let his hands slip under her top.
Soon they’d disappeared into one of the guest rooms, forgetting all about Willow.
Chapter 16 on LJ
Chapter 16 on DW
Can also be found on AO3.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rating: Teen. (Same warnings as the show basically.)
Characters: Spike, Angel, Illyria, Buffy, Scoobies + cameos from more or less everyone in the 'verse.
Main Ships: Spike/Buffy, Angel/Nina
Feedback: Is bloody ambrosia! (The secret ingredient is otter...)
Word count (this chapter): Almost 5000 words.
Setting and Summary: As before. (Post-NFA epic quest thing.)
Beta: The ever wonderful
kathyhJanuary 2005
Spike stepped through Buffy’s door and into Buffy’s arms. He held her silently for a moment, feeling her warmth through the fabric between them and inhaling her wonderful scent. He never wanted to leave.
But then he let her go, dumping their weapons’ bag by the door and settling down tiredly on her pretty, white sofa. How come that he was so exhausted after a week of doing nothing?
Buffy clearly sensed that something was wrong and looked from him to Angel and then to Illyria who was smiled enigmatically; and then back to Spike again, a frown deepening on her forehead.
“Are you OK? You smell like... smoke... Oh my god, did someone try to set you on fire?”
Angel’s face was a mask, and wordlessly he turned and started looking at the photos scattered on the mantlepiece, body so tense that Spike was sure that if someone tried to touch him he’d rip their head off without even looking who it was first.
Tiredly Spike rubbed his eyes, wondering what the hell to say, then looked at Buffy. “No - we’re...” Seeing the worried look on her face, he faltered. “We’re fine. Technically at least.”
The smell of smoke clung to them, rasping in his throat, and he wanted nothing more than to wash it off, but he knew it’d not help - he’d still remember the scene every time he closed his eyes.
The dead bodies - the lawyer and the shaman both, and the double-cross they symbolised - the flames from Angel’s fire-y torch spreading further and further, the panicked screams…
Buffy was still rather thrown he could tell, obviously wondering what had happened to them... if she’d known Illyria better, Spike reflected, she’d know that the fact that the hell god was happy meant that they’d been stepping over several moral boundaries. Thank goodness she didn’t - although she was clearly expecting more of an answer.
“Look - it’s just... just been a rough week, yeah? But we thought we could come and give you a hand with the girls, like you asked. Could do with a good workout...”
She looked at him silently for a while, then, much to his relief, nodded. She’d probably try to get the story out of him later, but knew that now was not the time. Instead she smiled, her take-charge attitude showing up and masking the discomfort. “That’s great. Your timing is impeccable, ‘cause I was just about to go... Lemme just get changed.”
She disappeared into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, and a second later Angel turned, seeking out Spike’s eyes.
“I had to-” he began, but Spike cut him off.
“I know.”
They couldn’t afford to show mercy.
Especially not against traitors... And Spike felt the sting of the treachery again. But then it had been a well-timed lesson: Just because someone hated Wolfram and Hart didn’t mean that they could be trusted. Things had been so simple - so much simpler than back here they’d thought. Some demons had been against them, others had helped. Some had been trying to trick them, but the attempts had been so obvious - there were creatures like Willy everywhere.
This had been different. They couldn’t even be sure if it’d been the whole clan acting together, or just the shaman working on his own. Overall they’d just been so... harmless. Like all artists, so absorbed in their work that they invariably came off as somewhat aloof - and defenseless in the face of true danger. Spike was sure that if he’d asked what they thought of fighting and war they would have echoed his own words from many, many years ago:
‘We prefer not to think of such dark, ugly business at all. We prefer placing our energies into creating things of beauty.’
But pathetic little poets got murdered in dark alleys, and artists who tried to get themselves back in favour with the establishment got punished by those trying to overthrow the status quo.
He buried his head in his hands, not wanting to look at Angel and see the self-loathing magnified. It was all too complicated and difficult - and he didn’t like it. There was good, and there was bad - surely they shouldn’t be so muddled up? For the first time he truly began questioning the nature of their quest. Then with a start he remembered that they’d actually been successful - were another step closer to their goal.
But at that moment Buffy returned, and he’d have to wait until later before adding the new piece of Key to the rest. He should feel elated - and yet it struck him that they had found all three pieces in ways that made him deeply uncomfortable. Maybe it was cursed? Or maybe it was just the inevitable result of being messed up in W&H business... everything got tainted and murky.
He needed a distraction, and thankfully Buffy was there to provide it. She of course looked amazing - her legs wrapped in tight black leggings with a pale blue tank top above was balm to his eyes. She’d pulled her hair back into a practical ponytail, but he could still almost feel the silkiness of it beneath his fingers... She was softness and strength all wrapped up together, and he still found it hard to believe that she was really his. That when he caught her eyes, like now, she smiled at him in a way that made everything else fuzzy and out of focus.
Angel turned, swiftly putting back the photo he’d absently held in his hands, then looked at Buffy, face blank, and asked simply, “We going?” and Buffy frowned again.
Illyria, who’d been silent and lost in a world of her own, suddenly snapped her head round. Looking from one to the other, she held out her axe to Spike with the words: “Clean it!”
He stared at her, wanting to tell her to go to hell, but with a sigh he realised that Angel was her favourite for the foreseeable future, and she’d also expect lots of gratitude - which in her world equalled servitude - for saving their lives. Rolling his eyes he muttered, “Fine!” and got up, before getting a cloth from Buffy’s weapons’ chest.
“Kill anything fun?” Buffy asked, trying to make conversation as she tied the laces on her trainers, and Illyria looked at her; a tiny, triumphant smile on her lips.
“Lawyer.”
“Oh,” Buffy answered, and didn’t ask anymore. A moment later Spike handed the axe back to Illyria, hoping that Buffy’s curiosity was satisfied for good - if she thought they felt guilty over Illyria’s kill, that was fine... because he didn’t want to talk; didn’t want to try to put into words all the complex feelings and myriad shades of guilt that he now carried around. Briefly he wondered when he’d stopped thinking of lawyers as human, and worthy of anguish.
“Ready?” Angel asked, and Buffy nodded as Spike picked up their bag. They’d not had any use for it this time around... If nothing else they had lots of new darts.
It was a grey and overcast day, so they needn’t worry about burning up. As they set off, Buffy took Spike’s hand, and he grasped onto her like the lifeline she was. He desperately wanted to haul her off somewhere and do his best to drown in her, but that was out of the question until whenever Angel had left - if he was leaving. The fact that Angel probably wouldn’t mind the two of them making out under his nose - might even welcome the added pain - ruled it out even more...
Whenever Spike tried to work out just how their relationship fitted, he got a headache.
“So,” he asked, holding Buffy’s hand a little tighter, “What do you want us to do with the lil’ ones?”
She sighed. “Well, you know they were all the most ‘hopeless’ ones - those that would never have been called if it wasn’t for me. Like... some of them were insecure, and some were totally unimaginative, and some had just freaked out... I used to have almost 20, but about half left in the autumn - which is good, of course. Buffy’s extra-special training program works wonders! The problem is that... I think I’ve been doing too good a job,” she smiled wryly. “They’re all brilliant now, and think they’re kinda invincible. And now of course there’s this apocalypse coming - again...” her voice trailed off and Angel turned his head to look at her.
“It’s going to be bad?”
She nodded, and the frown was back. But now it was obviously there because of her own problems.
“I thought that... things would be easier now there are lots of us, but instead I’m just worrying how many are going to die - because of me. Again. If Willow is right, this thing goes down in about a year’s time, but we still don’t know where... Oh and there’s supposed to be lots of signs and stuff, not sure what exactly, so keep your eyes open for two-headed cats and a rain of stones...”
Despite the half-joke, there was a tired note in her voice that reminded Spike of times he’d rather not think about, and he could see Angel sinking even further down into brood mode. Well this had to stop - before long they’d all be sitting in a corner somewhere, drinking whiskey and listening to Country music. Time for him to shake things up a little.
“Well - if you see the Four Horsemen, tell them hello from Spike!”
“Huh?” She turned her head, and he grinned at her. Angel even pulled himself out of his self-imposed silence and shot him a droll look. “You never told her? Or were you so drunk that you’ve only just remembered?”
He laughed. “Nah - but she put a veto on talking about anything apocalypse-related for Christmas.”
Buffy was looking at them both, unsure whether to take them seriously or not. “The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse - you... met them?”
He nodded proudly, and felt that thrill of pure excitement again - there were legends and then there were legends...
“Bloody brilliant guys, to tell you the truth. Oh and if they show up, then whoever is organising your apocalypse has plenty of spare change - their fee is fuckin’ astronomical. But then that’s the thing with being famous - they got their name into the big book, and now they’ve got it made. Oh and -” He turned to Buffy and raised an eyebrow, “-they really like you.”
She stared at him. “Me?”
“Quite the fans to be honest. I mean they’d heard ‘bout me and Angel obviously, what with tryin’ to save or destroy the world a few times, but you’re in a league of your own.”
She flushed, unable to stop a genuine smile deepening, and he could feel the world beginning to feel right again.
Angel rolled his eyes. “You turned into Andrew, and you know it. I’m surprised you didn’t ask for their autograph.”
“I did!” Spike countered, rooting through his pockets, after a moment’s search bringing out one of his cards, with four signatures crammed onto the back.
Studying it, Angel shook his head. “You’re insane.”
Spike grinned. “Well if we’re ever in need of cash that will fetch a small fortune on eBay.”
Illyria didn’t say anything, but Spike had the distinct impression that she’d pricked up her ears when the talk turned to money.
Which was so weird that he decided to ignore it.
Then they began discussing what to do with the baby Slayers, and by the time they reached the Council building had worked out a nice strategy that hopefully ought to unsettle them enough to sit up and take notice.
As Spike and Angel watched the warm-up a little later, Spike cast the other vampire a droll look, “So - ready to shatter some illusions?”
“Ready to help them grow up,” Angel answered, studying the vivid young faces of the girls as they went through their exercises. Spike tilted his head.
“Oh and you might like to know that Cora - the black girl, in the green top - is left-handed; Gemma - the brown haired one with the ponytail - has a way with an axe that’s quite something; although Kristina - the blonde gawky-looking one - is probably the best of the lot. Watch out, she’s got imagination!”
Angel turned his head, frowning. “You’ve done this before?”
Spike shrugged. “Given Buffy a hand a couple of times, nothin’ more than some simple sparrin’... Oh - try to ignore the smell. First time they pretty much walked all over me ‘cause I kept gettin’ distracted.”
Angel rolled his eyes, and then they straightened up and gripped their wooden swords as Buffy called the girls together.
“OK. You know how I said that we need to train extra hard, because of the apocalypse? Well we just got some help!” She indicated Spike and Angel with her hand, and a quick flurry of excitement flared up, before Buffy’s stern eyes quelled it. But Spike noticed all the swift, adoring glances sent their way. And suddenly he could again see bright orange flames licking up against a black sky, and hear the screams of panic...
All the way down memory lane, the same cries echoed, and this was a fresh reminder again of what he was... He had joked once that he and Angel had a good cop/bad cop thing going - except it wasn’t funny when the good cop had to let the bad one beat the witness into oblivion...
He shuddered, and vowed to stop those adoring looks for good, if he could at all help it. He knew none of the girls had ever connected the dots between Spike-Buffy’s-boyfriend and Spike-the-slayer-of-Slayers in a real and tangible way. Absentmindedly he grabbed hold of his pendant, taking a deep breath as he felt its reassuring weight against his palm.
“I know you’re very good,” Buffy continued, and the young Slayers all smiled proudly, “but - and that is a big but - “ Spike saw some of the girls try to hide a smile, before Buffy swiftly continued, “- you’ve never really had any proper big fights - and no, that gross sewer thing doesn’t count, nor does that battle with the Frofundo clan. I mean fights where your opponent is older, stronger and more experienced than you, and will kick your ass! So - please say hello to today's guests - two Champions who more than fulfill those criteria.”
Spike could almost feel Angel wince, but there it was. He cleared his throat.
“OK then my ladies - grab your pointy sticks and let’s see what you’re made of!”
Spike smiled, turning the charm up as far as he could, and he saw two of them blush. Oh, fighting dirty could be fun...
“But-” a dark haired girl spoke up, a little shyly, “Won’t that be dangerous... for you I mean?”
Spike shook his head, incredulous. He had to hand it to Buffy, these girls weren’t lacking in confidence.
“Listen pet, it won’t come to that. An’ if it does - in which case I’ll dress up in a tutu and sing ‘Mandy’ - we’re wearing armour, so knock yourself out!”
“Oh,” she said, obviously rather flummoxed, and Spike grinned. He could see Buffy’s brow draw together, but he didn’t care. He was itching for a good fight, not having had a decent one in weeks - and this one was just the ticket.
“Step on up then!” he called out, and they looked at each other.
“What - all nine of us against just you two?” Gemma asked.
“Well duh!” Spike replied.
“But... that doesn’t seem fair.”
“Fair’s got nothing to do with it,” Angel said, voice calm and deceptively light, but Spike could hear the strain underneath.
There was another moment’s hesitation, but then the girls attacked, and finally Spike could forget about everything that weighed on him.
It was probably insane - trying to fight nine slayers at once, but to begin with there was quite simply not enough space, and it was rather amusing to see them almost jostling for room... and Buffy was right. They were good - but not used to smart opponents. Spike took two down within the first minute, and then Kristina’s stake got far too close for comfort - damn that girl was fast - before he managed to slip under her defenses. As he and Angel thinned the crowd they split up, and suddenly they were both fighting one-against-one... and then the game was up.
Spike looked down at the last slayer - who’d been standing just a moment earlier - and frowned in surprise. He turned to Angel, and saw the other with the same puzzled look on his face.
“Well that’s... did she just go down too?”
Angel nodded.
Spike looked round at the rather sheepish looking girls, and couldn’t help smiling. “Hey - the first time I fought Buffy, I got the better of her too!”
He could see Buffy open her mouth, and stopped her before she could speak. “Oh I so did! If it hadn’t been for your mum...”
One if the girls - Megan he thought her name was - piped up.
“Her mother?”
Spike nodded. “Hit me over the head with an axe. Brilliant woman, Joyce Summers!”
He caught Buffy’s eyes, and suddenly the whole world fell away. “’No one puts a hand on my little girl’, she said...”
Buffy smiled, eyes huge and shining, and he was one step away from crossing the room and pulling her into his arms, when he remembered where they were.
“Anyway - she held her own. Which is more than I can say for you...” He let his eyes travel over the girls, then shot Angel a look, and the other continued, speaking to Buffy.
“You’ve trained them too well. They’re formidable as a group, but once they’re on their own they flag.”
Spike could see Buffy nodding slowly, and smiled a little. “Kinda bizarre, I gotta tell you. Wanna show ‘em how it’s done?”
A wicked glint appeared in Buffy’s eyes, and she nodded.
Angel settled down on one of the benches along the wall, watching as Spike threw off his duster before he and Buffy began circling each other. He could sense the anticipation in the girls next to him, and couldn’t help sharing some of it - although he couldn’t shake the feeling of deja-vu that settled over him... thankfully though, this time the ending would be different.
Then suddenly Spike pounced and all thoughts vanished as Angel became utterly absorbed in the battle that unfolded. He noticed that Buffy had a stake in her hand, and she had a few almost-hits that Spike laughed off. Angel saw him try the move that had done for her last time, but now she slipped away easily, and Angel marvelled again at how amazing she was. He remembered sparring with her himself, and how easily things had almost gotten out of hand...
Focus, focus - don’t think about the past, don’t dwell on the fact that you’ve lost her for good...
The fight flowed back and forth, skill and cunning and strength unfolding in an astonishing display that kept the onlookers riveted. Suddenly Spike sent Buffy crashing into a wall, but she kicked his legs out from underneath him and the next second she was straddling him, stake to his chest.
“See?”
She looked around at the avid faces, triumph and a touch of smugness in her eyes. The girls broke into spontaneous applause - eyes bright and excited and obviously hero-worshipping Buffy even more than before.
Angel noticed the second she shifted her weight a fraction, but even so he was almost taken aback at Spike’s swift reaction. In the blink of an eye he had reversed their positions, his hands around Buffy’s throat.
He looked up at the shocked faces, eyes hard and cold: “And now - she’s dead.”
Angel followed his gaze, saw certainties crushed into nothing. It was clear that the girls thought that Buffy could do no wrong, could never fail - and now they’d witnessed her bested in front of their eyes. And her cool, handsome, charming boyfriend had just reminded them that he was a murderer.
Then Spike continued, voice calm and matter of fact; but Angel knew exactly what his thoughts - his memories - were at this moment. Face after face springing to life unbidden, the blood on their hands that refused to go away...
“This was how I killed my second Slayer. She hesitated just a moment too long and then - I snapped her neck.”
The girls were silent, and abruptly Spike jumped up, then slowly - almost hesitantly - holding out his hand to Buffy.
“Sooner or later,” he continued, “You will fight alone with no one watching your back. You mess up - you die.”
Buffy took a deep breath, and shot Spike a swift look. “Thank you.”
Then she focussed on her charges again. “Dying is easy. The problem is that we are Slayers...”
She swallowed. “You might not just fight for your own life - you might be fighting for the fate of the whole world. And in an apocalypse you get creatures far stronger than anything you’ve ever seen...”
She shot Angel a look, since he was sat next to the door, and he swiftly located their pièce de résistance.
“This is Illyria,” he said as she walked in, cooly looking over the Slayers staring at her. “She is a hell god from before the time of men.”
The girls looked a little dubious now, but Angel turned to Spike and saw the other smirking.
“Buffy - lend us a weapon, yeah? Something strong but ugly.”
She nodded and fetched an axe, and Spike weighed in his hands, assessing.
“This’ll do. Right girls, pay careful attention. You ready Blue?”
Illyria didn’t move, and Spike shrugged, then lifted the axe before swinging it with deadly force and accuracy towards Illyria’s head. At least two of the Slayers cried out in alarm, but then Angel heard them all gasp as the blade of the axe shattered against the god’s head.
Slowly she turned her head towards him. “Are you done?”
“I... yep,” he replied, and she walked out, clearly wishing that she wasn’t forced to hang out with such lowlives.
“That’s the kind of creature you might be facing,” Buffy continued, and the girls stared at her, clearly having had a lot of their world view scrambled.
“When you’ve worked out how to deal with that, let me know! I don’t have all the answers, I just tend to make it up as I go along. We are formidable together - but I need every single one of you to be everything you can be. Every apocalypse is different. You might have a role to play. Your idea or work or input might be the things that tips the balance. So remember - it’s OK to be scared, but what you do with that fear is what determines the outcome.”
Settling down again next to Angel, Spike folded his arms and tilted his head critically.
“She’s gotten a lot better at this, you know.”
Off Angel’s surprised look, he chuckled.
“The speechifying. Back when we were dealing with The First… Well, it got a bit tedious.”
Angel looked as if he was going to say something, then thought better of it.
Johnson’s office was very cosy, and somehow very out of place in the Italianness of the building, looking more like a hobbit’s home than a Renaissance room.
Spike and Angel had elected to wait there while Buffy sorted out the Slayers’ patrolling schedules and other boring tasks, not really knowing what to do with themselves.
Spike slumped down in the sofa and pulled out the two bits of Key. Holding them together they did the freaky melding thing again, and he shook his head. Magic was an inevitable part of life, but he didn’t like the way this thing weirded him out.
Tucking the Key back in his pocket, he picked up the cloth Illyria had wrapped the Key fragment in. Looking at it more closely he saw that it was actually a shroud of some kind, the finely woven fabric covered in writing.
When Johnson entered a few minutes later Spike held the fabric out towards him.
“Thought you might like this, mate. No idea what it is, but it looks like your kind of thing.”
The Watcher stopped in his tracks and reverently plucked it out of Spike’s hand, then carefully started looking it over, eyebrows sailing to the top of his head as he did so.
“This is... this is astonishing. Really, it’s... I can’t tell you... this could change-”
He stopped and looked up at the two vampires. “Where did you find this? It was supposed to be lost forever...”
Spike shrugged. “Illyria picked it up in this labyrinth that no one can get out of - until she came along at least. What is it?”
“I think... I mean I’m not sure, but I think that it could be The Shroud of Kizrath. The difference this will mean can’t be overestimated...”
Angel’s eyes narrowed. “You mean this has info on this apocalypse of yours?”
Johnson looked up, a little thrown. “What? Oh no, not at all. This is a... a historical document, telling the life story of Kizrath… we have a few snippets of his legend, and some say that they were just stories of other warriors that got a little mixed up... But look-”
He laid the shroud on his desk, and pointed to a bit of writing that looked just as incomprehensible as the rest to Spike.
“Here is the tale of when he met the sea serpent of Drok’kheen - I knew it was real - and oh... wait, this is complicated... Goodness... Please excuse me while I phone Mr Giles...”
The vampires shared a look, and retreated.
In the hallway, Spike stopped and turned to Angel.
“So what are we doing?”
Angel didn’t answer, and Spike frowned. “Angel?”
The other sighed.
“I... I don’t know. I’m just... tired.”
Spike nodded slowly, taking in what the words implied. “Do you want me to... Is there anything I can do?”
Angel shook his head silently, and Spike knew that this was one of the times where the Buffy situation complicated everything immensely. Angel wasn’t an over-sharer at the best of times, but there had been a closeness (and was that ever an uncomfortable word!) between them in the pre-Rome months which was lacking now.
Then suddenly Angel seemed to pull himself together.
“I think I’ll go see Nina. Will be back tomorrow, OK? Be ready to go early. And it might be a good idea not to leave this building.”
There was something hiding somewhere in his eyes, something Spike couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he had a feeling that Angel had made some sort of decision.
It worried him that he couldn’t work out what it was.
A little after Angel had left, Buffy returned. After a lot of very satisfying kisses, her eyes suddenly widened and she pulled out her cellphone.
“I never called Willow back! Just excuse me for a minute, she’s going to be really pissed off...”
A little later she put the cell down. “She didn’t pick up. That’s... odd.” She looked a little worried, but then shrugged it off as Spike let his hands slip under her top.
Soon they’d disappeared into one of the guest rooms, forgetting all about Willow.
Chapter 16 on LJ
Chapter 16 on DW
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Spike chatting up the 4 Horsemen is great. And what does Illyria want with money? Hrmmmm.
Very interesting.
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To be fair, he doesn't like it either... It's the whole 'turning yourself into the enemy'. But then what?
Spike chatting up the 4 Horsemen is great.
I love this 'verse, you can do so many things! :D
And what does Illyria want with money? Hmmmmm.
Indeed. Many little threads...