Previously: Buffy’s been wondering how the mating has changed her; they’ve all reached the conclusion that contacting the Initiative is the only way to remove the chip; Oz and Angel fought with neither coming out the victor; Wesley is worried about Cordelia, who has been missing now for about five days. This picks up where we left everyone.
Book Two, Chapter 27. Planning lies with men.
Planning lies with men; success lies with Heaven.
Chinese proverb.
Our planning may leave something to be desired,
but our designs, thank God, have been flawless.
Noor, Queen of Jordan, on the birth of her fourth child in six years
There will be no rescue, no intervention for us. We can only save ourselves. Many of you know influential people abroad, you must call these people. You must tell them what will happen to us... say goodbye. But when you say goodbye, say it as if you are reaching through the phone and holding their hand. Let them know that if they let go of that hand, you will die. We must shame them into sending help.
Hotel Ruwanda, 2004
Wesley’s less than quiet movements in the kitchen gradually attracted the attention of his fellow Englishmen. Rupert was first into the kitchen, wandering in bleary-eyed yet wide awake.
“Tea’s done.” Wesley indicated the teapot on the counter then placed another rasher of bacon on the stove.
They made desultory conversation until Spike appeared a little while later, the baby tucked under his arm like a football. Connor was gurgling happily and Spike searched around for his bouncy chair, grumbling about babies and their weird hours.
His comments struck the other two as funny, and Giles was quick to point out, “aren’t vampires supposed to sleep all day?”
“Pppfffttt. Older we get less sleep we need.” Spike plopped the infant into the chair, then lifted the chair onto the counter and dropped a few rattles into the baby’s lap.
“That explains your eccentricity then.” Wesley’s deadpan delivery had them all chuckling, but his next words sobered the mood completely. “It’s been five days since I’ve heard from Cordelia.”
Giles’ comment was drowned out by Spike’s question. “How often was the cheerleader calling in?”
Wesley stared down at the counter top while the other two exchanged glances. “Every other day.”
“You think Angel has her.”
Giles voiced the fear Wesley had been loathe to mention. “I believe it more than possible. Angel was. . . showing signs of developing feelings for Cordelia, before and after our sojourn in Pylea.”
The older man thought for a moment, his mind going over what he knew about Angel. “If he does have her, it would fit his previous patterns.”
“Would. Think we need to do some daylight re-con. Might wanna take the bot.” Spike had a feeling in his gut that they had her. “Might not be much worth savin’,”
“Figures you would argue against saving something.” Xander’s voice sounded from the hallway, anger evident in his tone.
All three of the men in the kitchen turned to look in the doorway, and it was Spike’s comment that broke the uncomfortable silence that followed Xander’s pronouncement. “What the bleedin’ hell are you doin’ in my house?”
“Your house? This isn’t your house. This is Buffy’s and Dawn’s house. You have no rights here.” Lines of fury were written all over the younger man’s features and his stance was belligerent enough that both Giles and Wesley moved between Spike and Xander.
“Is mine. Just as both those girls are mine.” Folding his arms across his chest, Spike leaned a hip against the counter, his laser bright eyes boring into angry brown orbs. Not that he cared whether Harris knew the truth of things, but Spike figured that Buffy should be the one to spill the beans about all of it. If Harris didn’t back down though, Spike would be more than happy to enlighten him. “Question is why’re you wandering into my house without knocking. You’ve no manners, whelp. None ‘t’all.”
“I came to see Buffy. Why are you still here?” Xander wasn’t going to back down, wasn’t going to show any fear or any softening of his attitude toward this particular male. In Xander’s mind, the last person Buffy should show signs of wanting was Spike. He’d tried to kill them, done more damage than anyone, even if it was in a round-about way.
Spike sighed deeply. “I live here.” He turned away, showing his back to the boy and opened the refrigerator. “Tell me again why you’re darkenin’ m’door.”
He could hear Xander’s teeth grinding from his position all the way across the room. “I came to see Buffy.”
“She’s sleepin’, whelp.” Spike leaned on the open refrigerator door, his eyes narrowing on Xander as the other started in again. Giles watched the interplay between the two, exasperation growing with each exchange. “Xander, what is you want to see Buffy about?”
“Just wanted to talk to her. Nothing more than that.” His tone softened a bit when he answered the older man, but just barely.
“I said she’s sleepin’. She’s exhausted, ‘m not waking her for nothin’.” Spike punctuated his comment by nearly slamming the refrigerator door closed, then stalked closer to the younger man. “Might do better next time to call.”
“Right, so you can just hang up on me like you did last time? I don’t think so Spike. I don’t trust you. How do I know you haven’t drained her or tied her up or done something else to hurt her.” The expression on Spike’s face darkened considerably and he took a menacing step closer to Xander, who, to his credit, didn’t back away from the enraged vampire.
‘Wouldn’t hurt her you bastard, ‘m not like that. She’s mine, you git. Mine to take care of an’ worry over, not yours, so worry ‘bout your own girl.” Wesley stepped between the two, his eyes on the shorter man.
“Spike. Calm down. This isn’t important. We have other things to worry about besides . . . this. Spike.” Xander had moved forward, one fist raised as if to strike as his nasty words broke through Wesley’s and Spike leaned forward, silently daring Xander to take a shot at him.
“Gentlemen.” Giles pushed his way between the two, hands raised to calm them. “Xander, is there a pressing need to see Buffy?”
“No. Just making sure she’s okay and,” he shrugged, his look a cross between chagrin and worry. “Haven’t seen her in a while, just wanted to, you know, see if she’s okay.”
Spike snorted in disbelief, shaking his head and turning away from the boy, mumbling something under his breath. He went back to the refrigerator, his hearing focused on the conversation behind him until Wesley leaned against the sink and whispered at him. “I think you’re right. We should get the bot out and have it re-con with us. Do you think he’s holed up in the mansion again?”
“Yeah.” Pushing aside various leftovers and drinks, Spike located his blood on one of the shelves then straightened up to answer the other man. “Would work. ‘M not up for daytime work, but could head over through the sewers.
Wesley addressed Spike’s last comment before Xander had interrupted them. “Do you really think he might have turned her?”
A shake of his head and Spike replied back, “not his style. Likes to play with his victims firs’, an’ then he turns ‘em. Breaks ‘em, ya know?”
“So you think she might still be alive?” Wesley watched as Spike put the blood in the microwave, preparing to warm it up.
“Might be. Not sure how alive, “ he paused, knowing this was the part none of them wanted to face. “Could be he’s toying with her, makin’ her watch and witness all sorts of things, but ‘m not sure of that. If he had feelin’s for her, he’d move right onto the hurt.”
Nodding his acceptance of the possibilities, and what Spike didn’t say, Wesley stared off at a spot over Spike’s shoulder. He couldn’t imagine anyone being able to withstand the kind of damage Spike was implying Angel could inflict. Cordelia had hidden depths, strengths he hadn’t imagined she was capable of as a teenager; Wesley had seen the woman she’d grown into and she was formidable, but that didn’t necessarily ensure her survival. They had to move fast in order to save her, regardless of whatever anyone else thought. “I’m going to get the bot out of storage.”
Ignoring the other two men who were still talking, Wesley moved toward the basement steps, intent on freeing the Buffybot from the confines of its storage box. Giles had managed to calm down Xander, convincing him that when Buffy went to bed last night she was fine, just tired. Spike drank his blood, watching Connor and half listening to the hushed tones of the Watcher.
He heard a door creak open upstairs and Spike grimaced. Fuckin’ hell. Wanted to let her sleep longer. An’ now she’s awake. Maybe I can convince her to go back to bed before she realizes what’s goin’ on. Spike fixed his eyes on the door to the hallway, and he waited for her feet to pound down the stairs, but he didn’t hear them. Without a word, he left the kitchen and made his way up the second floor, focusing on her presence.
“Kitten?” He knocked softly on the bathroom door, then slipped inside when she didn’t answer. Buffy was on her knees in front of the toilet, vomiting. Her face was flush, tears leaking slowly from her eyes and her breath hitched softly. Spike wrinkled his nose at the smell, then opened the window before lifting her hair off her neck. “You okay, sunshine?”
A sullenly muttered “no” was his only answer.
“All right sweets, I’m right here.” He was rubbing her back, his touch soothing her. Buffy leaned back into him and she sighed against his shoulder.
“I don’t feel good at all.” She whined softly, wiping her mouth. Spike leaned forward, grabbing the toothpaste off the sink and handing it to her. “Just a little bit of that, don’t wanna get sick all over again.”
Buffy curled into his arms, tears slowly dripping down her cheeks. “I’m so tired. All I wanna do is sleep.”
Spike got to his feet, then leaned down to lift her up in his arms. “So back to bed with you.“ Propping her up on the edge of the counter, he flushed the toilet, then directed her “spit that out, sweetheart.”
Using her finger, Buffy took some toothpaste and swished it around her mouth then spit it out. Spike looked up at her in time to see the adorable pout that drove him crazy. “Hey, now, what’s wrong?”
The sniffles and pout got worse. “I don’t feel good.” A hiccup broke through and Buffy grimaced at the sour taste. Motioning to the toothpaste, she whined, “Can’t I please swallow some of that?“
“That’ll jus’ make it worse. Want me to see if we have somethin’ else?” Spike wasn’t exactly sure what else would be good for her, but he’d be willing to try whatever she wanted to make her feel better.
Her face lit up just a bit at that. “Maybe some coke? Or, oh. . . ginger ale.” She thought for a minute, her eyes staring into his. “I don’t think we have any though.”
“‘S all right, I’ll send one of the watchers for it.” That said, he lifted her back up, then headed into their bedroom. “Back to bed missy.”
“Stay with me?” She nuzzled into his neck, her breath hot against his skin. “Please?”
“Can’t love. Oxford is worried ‘bout the cheerleader, an’ the whelp is down there too.” He had no idea why he’d mentioned any of this, because he knew his girl, knew she would –
“Let me down.” Buffy pulled away from him, her fingers twisting into his shirt.
“No.”
“No?” Inwardly, part of Buffy was cheering, because she really didn’t think her stomach could handle much of anything other than just curling up into bed, but another part of her, that stubborn generalissimo was yelling, no, go downstairs and sacrifice yourself to make sure everyone else is fine.
“Jus’ said that, didn’t I?” Spike deposited her on the bed, lifting the blankets over her. “Nothin’ that needs your immediate attention. We don’t even know where the girl is, much less have a plan ‘bout anythin’ else.”
Buffy slid out from beneath the blanket and Spike folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “You gonna be stubborn an’ bullheaded ‘bout this?” She raised her eyes to look at him, and grinned at the fierce expression on his face.
“Spike, it’s what I’m supposed to do.” But he was shaking his head in refusal, and his hand pushed her back down.
“No. It’s not. Don’t have to do it all by yourself anymore, remember? ‘S what I’m supposed to do. We can handle this without you. You rest, an’ when you feel better, you get up.” When she moved to do just that, he pushed her back down again. “Kitten, how’s that belly? Still writhin’ and rollin’? Wanna puke on Angelus? Maybe that’ll stop him.”
Despite the way she currently felt, that image of puking all over Angel made her giggle. “Spike.” She whined, in a half-hearted attempt to see how far he would go to keep her in bed, but as soon as his name was out of her mouth, he dropped down beside her.
“Heart’s beatin’ too fast, love, and you’ve gone cold again.” Lifting the blankets once more, Spike dropped a kiss on her forehead, “don’t push yourself. We’ll check things out and won’t move until you feel better. I promise.”
Before she could protest some more, which they both knew was just an act, Spike was gone and she could hear his feet pounding down the stairs.
Xander had broken off his conversation when Spike left the kitchen, almost following him up the stairs. His progress was only stopped when Wesley came back up the stairs with the Buffybot on his heels.
“Hello Xander! Wesley let me out. I don’t know him.” The blinding smile of the bot made all three men snicker. “Giles. You’re my watcher. Are you going to polish your glasses and huff at me?”
Giles felt his lips twitch and Wesley had to hide his laughter behind a kitchen towel. Xander was shaking his head, almost afraid to say anything in case the bot would focus on him. But the bot, in the way of all simple creatures, focused on the one being most likely to get annoyed by its attention, in this case it was Xander.
“Does Anya still give you orgasms?”
Completely missing Giles’ reaction, Wesley exploded with gales of laughter while Xander blushed furiously. “Spike used me to get orgasms, but then the really real Buffy kissed him after Glory gave him all those sexy wounds and he stopped.”
“Really. Must you? Does this thing have an off switch?” Giles was searching frantically under the bot’s hair, looking for some sort of switch, when Xander waved him off. “Just tell it to be quiet and not mention sex.”
“But that was my primary programming.” The bot stared up at the two men, blinking curiously. “Well that and patrolling. I kill vampires.”
“Yes you do. And that’s what we need you for now.” Giles was completely flustered. Why on earth hadn’t they allowed Willow to finish the reprogramming? The bot was ridiculous, was it really any wonder that Spike insisted they lock the damn thing in a box?
The bot shrugged then chirped cheerfully, “okay. I’ll wait until you need me.”
“Right. You do that.” Giles shook his head, effectively blocking any further thought of the bot from his mind. Before he could ask Wesley why, Xander had pre-empted his question. ‘So what’s the deal with bringing out the bot?”
“Spike thought it would be a good idea since Buffy’s not feeling so well.” Nodding his head in understanding, Giles remained silent, while Xander continued questioning Wesley. “What’s the what?”
“Cordelia hasn’t checked in with me in five days.” Wesley looked pointedly at Xander. “We think Angelus has her. Spike believes he’s back at the mansion.”
Without any hesitation at all, Xander said, “when do we go?”
Spike’s feet sounded on the stairs and Giles said as he rounded the landing heading into the kitchen, “as soon as we decide who is going.”
Surprising them all, Spike said, “not goin’. ‘M stayin’ put. Buffy’s not feelin’ well. Wants ginger ale.”
Giles looked at Spike, a question in his eyes, but the younger man avoided his gaze, ducking his head. He didn’t want to say anything about why Buffy wanted ginger ale, because he had no answers to the questions Giles might pose. “Spike do you remember the layout of the mansion?”
He shook his head. “Never went into parts of it – was in the chair. Got the first floor, but he could have her anywhere.” He paused a bit, dredging his memory for the layout of the mansion. Grabbing a napkin, he looked around for something to write with; he ended up at the desk in the living room with paper and pencil. Quickly he sketched out the first floor layout, while Rupert watched over his shoulder. Pointing to one corner of the drawing, Giles said, “that’s the stairway to the second floor, but the first floor bedrooms are here, yes?”
Spike was nodding his head. “Yeah. There’s the cellars also. Rooms were here,” he marked that with an X, “an’ here might be where he’s got her.”
Wesley stood leaning against the door looking down at the drawing while Xander listened from a few paces behind Rupert.
“Where will they be holed up for the day?” Wesley was concerned about disturbing any of the vampires in the mansion and possibly getting caught.
“There was a master suite on the mid-level. House really had a couple of floors. Angelus left me on the first floor – while he and Dru slept on the next up. Was jus’ a couple of steps.”
Spike sketched that out. “But m’recollection of that area isn’t clear.”
Giles lifted the first paper, passing it to Wesley. “We’ll leave now – “
“I’m going.” Xander’s voice broke in, interrupting the three Englishmen.
“It’s not a rescue. We’re just going to ascertain whether she’s there and where he’s keeping her. Once we have that information we’re coming back here to decide what to do. How best to get her out of there.” Spike was concerned that the three of them would do something stupid and get themselves caught, and forcing himself and Buffy to rescue the rescuers.
“He’s likely to have alarms set up, he did last time. Don’t take unnecessary chances. No heroics, yeah?”
“Right.” Giles and Wesley nodded their agreement but Xander started to object, but at a look from the older man, he agreed.
They were gone in minutes, leaving Spike with a sick Slayer and a gurgling infant.
The house was quiet, although he could hear the tympany of the various heartbeats echoing in the air around him. Connor’s was thumping away fast and steady, a regular tripping rhythm that made him smile. Counterpoint to the infant’s rapid beats were the two below him, Glinda’s fluttering, delicate and calming; Oz’ heavier, labored with pain and slowed by excessive medication; yet still strong for all that. But the other, fainter beat of his mate, though muffled and almost far away, still, for all that, the one he knew best.
Connor babbled baby nonsense behind him and Spike turned round to stare at the boy for a moment. The changes his life had undergone, all the things he’d seen and done, and not one of the humans of his acquaintance thought it odd or worried about leaving him alone with a defenseless infant. Never crossed their minds to worry about the boy. Not that he would – there were some lines even he balked at crossing. The child was family, much as he hated to admit it, the baby was Aurelius, despite having a beating heart. And one did not. . . . well he didn’t – some of the others might – and he could probably count on one finger who else wouldn’t harm the infant – but he wouldn’t.
The boy was family.
Just like Buffy. Just like Dawn – his own daughter. And Glinda. She was family, too. Those were the ones he’d chosen. And Rupert. And Oxford. Spike sighed, wondering when in hell he’d traded his vampire clan for one of his own choosing; a pretty much all human one.
He supposed, if he thought about it logically, the process had started that night when Angel had tried to suck the world into hell. When he’d sought her out, theoretically to save Dru and his own ass from destruction. At least that was how it started. What ended up happening was so bloody bizarre.
Would he have done it differently?
Not sought out the girl, just gone along with the harebrained scheme of his grandsire and let the world get sucked into hell. A snort escaped from his lips. Not bloody likely mate.
Connor’s eyes watched him pacing back and forth drawn by the gesturing arms and the cadence of his voice, gurgling in counterpoint to the quiet raging of the vampire.
Spike wouldn’t trade any moment of the last few years – if this was waiting for him. He loved Buffy with everything he was – every part of him – and he believed she loved him just as much. The claim had solidified their bond, forging it into something very real and tangible, and well, if that bond came with other bonds connecting him to yet more humans, so be it.
He’d accept that.
Hell. Already did.
A giggle burst from Connor’s mouth and Spike lifted the boy from his chair. Holding him high on his chest, Spike said, “c’mon sprog, let’s go see what our Buffy is up too.”
After Spike left her, Buffy rolled over onto her side, curled around herself. Slayers aren’t supposed to get sick or be exhausted. Super powers are supposed to let me skip all those icky things. Except they didn’t. Not really. Her super powers just let her heal faster. So I should be fine in a couple of hours, just need a little more sleep, and some ginger ale and I’ll be good as new Buffy. The only problem was, she couldn’t go back to sleep. She could hear the noises from downstairs and if she concentrated, could hear the murmured voices of the men. I should go check on Oz. See if he’s okay.
Buffy started to get to her feet, when Spike’s feet pounded on the stairs.
“Hey. Thought I told you to stay put?” He was inside their room, Connor in his arms, gurgling happily.
“Was just gonna check on Oz.” She settled back on the bed knowing he would just hack at her until she listened to him.
“Jus’ did. He’s sleeping. Glinda’s got everythin’ under control. So don’t bother gettin’ up.”
He sat down on the bed, letting Connor wriggle out of his arms, his eyes on her face. “Feelin’ any better?”
Buffy sighed. “A bit. I’m just really tired. Keeping up with you and this little guy is harder than I thought.” Connor rolled over onto his back, feet kicking in the air. At the sound of her voice, he angled himself toward her, moving his body closer to her.
“Dunno what to do ‘bout that.” He thought for a minute, “maybe we need someone to get up with the sprog in the mornin’s.”
“What? You mean like a babysitter or a nanny? We can’t afford that.” She looked down at the gurgling baby.
“Maybe we can’t, but I’d bet Peaches has a stash, hell, I know he does.” Spike watched the boy wriggling around and then roll over. “Is he supposed to do that?”
“Not really. I’m not sure. Gimme the book.” They’d taken to keeping copies of What To Expect The First Year in various spots around the house in case they needed to consult with it. Which for them, happened at least once a day. Spike leaned over to snag the book from the dresser and Buffy said in a hushed voice, “put him on the floor and then see what he does.”
He looked at her kind of funny but did what she asked. Connor was on the floor of their room before he could protest. The baby started to whine and Spike leaned down to pick him up again but Buffy held out a hand, halting him. They watched from the bed as Connor rolled over and got up on his knees. “Get the book.”
Spike handed it to her without a word.
There was a grim silence in the car, none of its occupants willing to engage in idle chatter, and the bot, for once, picking up on the quiet didn’t fill the silence.
By unstated agreement, Wesley had grabbed the keys for the Jeep, and he parked it half a block from the mansion. Giles spoke, his voice very quiet. “All we are doing now is reconnaissance – no heroics. If you locate Cordelia, you cannot let her know we’re here. Her survival just might depend on it. If any of the vampires are awake, do not continue the search. Just leave.”
There were no arguments.
They exited the Jeep, the humans and the robot and set off for the mansion.
So, you guys all know the drill by now. But hey, be nice to me, because tomorrow is this old lady's birthday. So be kind and lemme know what you thought of this one.