XIV

Los Angeles, 3:45 pm
 
“Hey sis, this is Gina. We need you in L.A. – pretty much yesterday. A Dragvlok got the drop on us in Watts last night and tore Sonny up bad. I’m not feelin’crash hot my damn self. We’ve rounded up the Indies and they’re here at Central with us now. Pip’s called the Caretaker to sort us out, too. Call me when you get this, and get here as soon as you can. Love ya.”
 
Gina handed the phone back to Pipa. “It ain’t like her Pip, not to answer at this time of day. She’d just be swinging on that porch of hers, eatin’peaches.”
 
“I wouldn’t worry yet.”
 
Gina raised her eyebrows in surprise.
 
“I know. I’m more of a worrier than you are, but not when it comes to Buffy. She’ll get the message and get back to us as soon as she can. And then she’ll show up just when we need her most.”
 
“Ugh,” Sonny groaned. “Spare us the hero worship.”
 
“Knock it off, Sonny,” Gina chided.
 
“So what now?” Rachel asked, still perched on the edge of Gina’s bed.
 
“Well, I guess we-“
 
A knock on the door interrupted Pipa’s reply. Carla, standing closest to the door, swung it open.
 
“Angel!”
 
“Hi Carla.” Angel nodded at Carla and walked further into the darkened room to stand in the center of the small group of girls. He let his eyes roam over Sonny and then Gina.
 
“Cover me up, Pip,” Gina grumbled. Gina wasn’t bashful, but she didn’t like giving the old pervert a free peep show.
 
Pipa quickly pulled the bed sheet up over Gina’s bare shoulders.
 
No one said anything for several moments, before Angel broke the silence. “So how badly are they hurt?”
 
Gina rolled her eyes and looked away. She knew Pipa would explain.
 
“We’re getting the Caretaker in,” Pipa replied.
 
“And the Dragvlok from last night?”
 
Sonny spoke up this time. “We lost him west of Hollywood Park, I think. I passed out soon after we escaped, so I’m not sure where we left him exactly.”
 
“Right.” Angel paused. “So did he give you any idea about the others? Their plans?”
 
At that, Gina whipped her head back around. “Yeah, Angelus. He told us their exact numbers, gathering point, and fuckin’ timetable for slaughtering us.”
 
“Gina…” Pipa admonished.
 
“Could you please not call me Angelus, Gina?”
 
“I don’t know. Could you please call me Miss Watkins, Angelus?”
 
He was sucking his teeth now, clearly annoyed. “Just tell me exactly what he said, Gina.”
 
“He said what they always fuckin’ say.” Gina offered up her best impression of a demon voice then, as she extended her arms out to make claws: “‘Slayer!’”
 
Sonny chuckled. “That was pretty good, Gina.”
 
Gina smirked.
 
“Nothing else?”
 
Persistent prick.
 
“Yeah. He said ‘The Dragvloks will know vengeance tonight’. Happy?”
 
“He said ‘tonight’?” Angel pressed.
 
“Yeah.”
 
“Why? Do you think that means something, Angel?” Pipa, true to form.
 
“Yeah… It means whatever they’re planning, they’re planning it now.”
 
The already hushed room went as still as night.
 
Angel was the first to speak again, of course. “We need help. Bu-”
 
“What about your friend?” Carla interrupted.
 
“What?” Pipa asked, looking to Carla. Angel turned questioning eyes to Carla too.
 
Sal chimed in. “Oh yeah. We ran into a vamp the other night in Venice Beach. Blond. All dressed in black. Deep voice. Cheek bones to die-”
 
Carla looked at Sal with alarm.
 
Sal shrugged. “For a guy.”
 
Gina looked to Angel, who had suddenly tensed – his attention focused entirely on Carla and Sal now. 
 
“When did you see him?” he pressed.
 
“The other night,” Carla replied.
 
“Who?” Pipa questioned, looking around the room in confusion.
 
Angel replied in a barely audible voice, as if reluctantly. “Spike.”
 
“What?” Gina knew that name well – she and Pipa both.
 
The two had read all about Spike and Angelus in the old and more recent Watchers’Diaries. Buffy’s Watcher had made Spike sound like a right pain-in-the-ass, but a badass too. A real rebel. He’d changed himself. His life. His ways. Broke away from the pack. Refused to be what was expected of him. Cut himself new out of a fresh piece of cloth. He was a constant surprise, that vamp. Not like Angelus, predictable as your fuckin’period.  But Spike… he’d intrigued her from page one.
 
Gina cast suspicious eyes on Angel. “Angelus, you used to run with a cat named Spike back in the day.”
 
Angel turned his head slightly in Gina’s direction, but didn’t reply, while Pipa’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh! William the Bloody! He’s the one who closed the Sunnydale Hellmouth years ago.”
 
“I thought the Last Potentials did that,” Rachel injected, with a pout.
 
“Huh.”
 
“What?” Sally asked Gina.
 
“He’s supposed to be dead,” Gina remarked, almost to herself.
 
“Yeah, well, so is Buffy,” Sonny grumbled.
 
That silenced the room again.
 
“Okay…“ Carla chimed to diffuse the tension. “So Angel, what’s this Spike’s deal? Can he help?”
 
Angel ignored the question. “What did he say to you, Carla?”
 
“Um, not much. Just that he was on our side, and that he was a friend of yours – of sorts. He is on our side, right?”
 
“Wait. I’m lost.” Stevie interrupted. “So… who’s Spike?”
 
“Pathetic,” Gina muttered. Most of the Slayers hadn’t bothered with the Diaries. “Pip, you tell ‘em. I’m beat. I’mma lay here and wait for my shaman.”
 
Pipa addressed the room, switching into her trademark lecture mode. “He’s a vampire. One of the former Scourge of Europe, a group of four vampires that Angel led in the 1800s. The other two were their girlfriends.”
 
Gina watched Angel as his eyes scanned the faces in the room. Pipa started fumbling with the ends of her T-shirt when she met his gaze, but continued. “Anyway, Spike got his soul, like Angel, only he fought for it somehow.”
 
“Ladies, I really-“
 
“He went to Africa, Pip,” Gina added, cutting Angel off.
 
“Right,” Pipa continued. “So…” Pipa evaded Angel’s gaze while twisting her T-shirt into a knot. “… It wasn’t a curse.”
 
Angel’s hands started clenching at his sides.
 
To her credit, Pipa pressed on. “Anyway, he ended up fighting with Buffy back in Sunnydale. Then he died closing the Hellmouth there.”
 
“So…how is he alive now?” Maria questioned.
 
“Who knows,” Stevie replied with disinterest. “Can he help or what?”
 
All eyes turned to Angel then.
 
Again, he ignored the question. “So what did you tell him, Carla?”
 
“About what?”
 
“Did you mention Buffy?”
 
“Uh… no.”
 
“Did he?”
 
Carla furrowed her brow. “No. Like I said, he just told us he was on our side.”
 
Gina was suddenly finding the conversation very interesting. She remembered the Diaries mentioning that Spike had fallen for Buffy. Just like Angelus had. They’d had a thing for a while apparently, all hot and heavy, before Spike had supposedly dusted. So now Angel was looking for Spike, and they were lookin’for Buffy. Gina couldn’t help but smile to herself. Her money was on the brotha being in Santa Lucia.
 
“We need Buffy,” Angel insisted. “I’ll call her.”
 
“Already did, Angelus,“ Gina replied. “No answer. I left a message.”
 
Angel gave her a passing glance in irritation. “I’ll try again.”
 
 
*    *    *
 
Queenie was racing at one hundred miles an hour on the back road to L.A.
 
“Slayer, your car is the size of a bloody bread box.” Spike was still curled up under a blanket in the front seat.
 
“Then push the seat back.”
 
Spike did just that, which enabled him to twist into a seated position and stretch his legs under the blanket.
 
“Better?”
 
“Like first class, pet.”
 
She ignored him.
 
“So, we there yet?”
 
“Spike…”
 
“Just asking how much time we’ve got.”
 
“We’ve got twenty minutes, maybe less at this speed.”
 
“Maybe we should ring the Slayerettes then. Give ‘em a heads up.”
 
“Shit!”
 
“What?”
 
“My phone. Argh! It’s in the house. I don’t suppose you have one?”
 
Bugger. “I do, pet. But it’s in my duster. I don’t suppose you grabbed my leather on your way out?”
 
“Great,” she grumbled. 
 
“It’ll be alright, Slayer. We’ll be there in no time.”
 
“Okay, Buffy,” she said to herself. “Just relax. Angel’s there. If they’re in trouble… Angel’s there.”
 
Spike was glad Buffy couldn’t see his face as it contorted in fury.
 
 
*    *    *
 
“She didn’t answer?” Pipa asked worriedly.
 
“I couldn’t even get voicemail.” Angel frowned. “Strange.”
 
“Oh god,” Maria whined. “You don’t think-“
 
Yet another knock on the door interrupted them.
 
Betty, one of the Indies, stepped in. “Guys, there’s this weird-lookin’little dude out here to see you. He looks like a Raisinet with legs, only one of those white chocolate ones. Lisa and Vicki were gonna kill ‘em before he insisted he’d been sent here to help.”
 
“Oh!” Pipa rushed to the door. “He’s-“
 
Looking beyond Betty and down the hall, Pipa spotted the Caretaker with his cane, hobbling slowly towards the door.
 
“Hello, Sir! Thank you so much for coming so quickly! Please. Please, come in.” Pipa put a hand on Betty’s side to nudge her into the room and out of the way, as the Caretaker plodded in on tiny legs.
 
Betty wasn’t wrong. The Caretaker did look a bit shriveled and pale. His skin was a sickly white color – rendered all the more deathly against his messy mop of black hair. He was barely three feet when he stood up straight, which he rarely did. He mostly walked hunched low over his treasured cane – a piece of smooth and polished bone from god-knows-what. His eyes were red today, but they never seemed to stay one color. And he was wearing the same little black robe he always wore, with a belt made of hair.
 
“What’s up, Precious,” Gina greeted him with a smile. “Been a while.”
 
“Miss Watkins.” The Caretaker bowed his head deeply. He never smiled, but he was always polite. “A pleasure as always.”
 
“Thanks for coming, Doc,” Sonny muttered weakly.
 
The Caretaker turned slowly to look at Sonny and bowed. “Miss Colletti.” Turning back to the group, the Caretaker seemed to catch Angel’s eye. After pausing for a moment, he nodded slightly – Angel responding in kind.
 
His eyes still on Angel, the Caretaker spoke again, but directed his words to Pipa.
 
“Perhaps Miss Frederiksson will permit me to care for these young ladies in private. I work best alone, as you know.”
 
“Oh.”Pipa shifted her eyes back and forth between the two demons. “Of course. Um… girls… Angel…let’s convene downstairs, yeah? The Indies should know what’s going on.”
 
The girls started shuffling out of the room, leaving Pipa and Angel behind.
 
“Angel?” Pipa whispered.
 
Slowly turning his eyes away from the visitor, Angel followed Pipa out of the room and closed the door behind him.
 
“Alone at last,” the demon said without humor.
 
“What have you got for us this time, Doc? Essence of dog’s balls?”
 
“Not quite, Miss Colletti. You’re in luck today.” The Caretaker, who did everything painfully slowly, pulled his backpack off his shoulders and laid it on the floor between their beds. “As you know, the better pastes for healing are those that include elements of the method of injury.”
 
“So what, you’ve got a Dragvlok talon in that sack?” Gina questioned.
 
“Miss Watkins is very clever. The talon has been crushed into a powder. It will be mixed with a variety of things, among which is the best ingredient for healing a Slayer.”
 
“Which is?” Gina hadn’t heard this before.
 
“Why, essence of Slayer, of course.”
 
“What?!” Sonny’s head came off her pillow, making her wince from the pain.
 
“As I said, you are quite fortunate that I managed to acquire several vials of Slayer blood on my last trip to Asia.”
 
Gina turned widened eyes to Sonny.
 
“Please, ladies. Do not trouble yourselves. This was most innocently acquired. Not all of your sisterhood are of means; nor are they all affiliated with the Council and thereby provided for. Some of your kind are quite willing to sell something so valuable to others, and of so little consequence to themselves as a half pint of blood.”
 
Gina felt her heart racing and her stomach turn at the thought.
 
“I assure you, Miss Watkins, that I have proper documentation attesting to its being legally obtained. Signatures and the like. If you insist, just give me a moment, and I can refer to my ledger…”
 
“Forget it, Precious.”
 
Gina felt Sonny’s eyes boring two holes into her head.
 
Gina swallowed. “We trust you. And the fact of the matter is, we need y- … I mean… We could use your services right now. And no offense, Precious, but at the speed you go, it’ll take forever for you to pull out your damn ledger and show us your signatures. Just do what you do best.”
 
Gina looked to her sister then. “But take care of Sonny first.”
 
Sonny blinked at Gina once, before looking away. She’d obviously decided to go forward with the plan. It wasn’t like her to be quiet if she didn’t agree.
 
Nodding deeply to Gina, the Caretaker knelt down by his backpack and painstakingly proceeded to empty it of the necessary ingredients. The room was still for some time as he prepared his paste – the only sound his whisperings in the lisp-heavy language of his species and the scraping of his spoon.
 
After stirring his mixture for some time, the Caretaker threw a dash of green powder into his bowl, making its contents smoke. The room filled quickly with the foulest odor Gina had smelled since – well, since the last time the Caretaker had come and made a paste.
 
The Caretaker turned his head toward Sonny. “If Miss Colletti will permit me, I must remove the bandages from her chest.”
 
Sonny hesitated before answering. “Sure, Doc.”Sonny wasn’t the bashful type either, and certainly not when it came to a shriveled, little shaman; but she still looked wary. For her part, Gina watched with some trepidation as the Caretaker cut through Sonny’s bandages with his tiny, wrinkled hands. She hadn’t really gotten a good look at what the Dragvlok had done to her.
 
The Caretaker slowly peeled away all the layers of crepe to expose her breasts. What little Gina could see in the dark, from her angle in her bed, made something crack inside her.
 
“Fix her, Precious,” she whispered plaintively, restraining a sob.
 
“Of course, Miss Watkins. Of course.”
 
*    *    *
 
“How much long-“
 
“Ten minutes to L.A., Spike,” she spoke tersely. “Another ten minutes to Slayer Central.”
 
Spike clenched his jaw. Well, this was bloody brilliant. She’s the one hankering for her honey to save the bloody day after Spike had just slaughtered three – count ‘em – three Dragvloks that were itching to slice her up. And she’s annoyed at him now? For what? Asking about their bloody whereabouts cause he’s stuck under a sodden blanket? What the hell was the Poof supposed to do in the middle of the bloody day?
 
Typical.
 
And he was right fuckin’ tired of typical.
 
“Oh!”
 
Spike felt the car swerve and slow to a stop – sending him sliding forward feet first.
 
“Bloody hell, woman! What now?”His foul mood just got fouler.
 
“My wrist-thingie!”
 
Spike sighed dramatically. “Your what now?”He really hated being stuck under a blanket while trying to talk to her. He felt like an idiot child.
 
“The L.A. Slayers have these wrist-thingies. Communication devices. They’ve got limited range though. Pipa gave me one to use for when I’m in L.A. patrolling with them. It’s in my Slayer bag in the trunk.”
 
“Well there ya go,” he sad flatly.
 
Spike heard her exit the car and rummage through the contents of the trunk.
 
“Yes!”he heard her exclaim.
 
The next moment, Buffy was back in the car.
 
“Okay, now I just need to remember how this thing works. Or, learn how it works, that is. I’ve never actually used it…”
 
Spike rolled his eyes from under his blanket. “Give it here, Slayer. I’ll call your mates.”
 
Buffy pushed her hand under the blanket unexpectedly and found his – her fingers curling over his palm. Spike looked down at her hand under the blanket and froze. Slowly, Buffy tilted his palm upwards and placed the watch inside, before lazily dragging her fingers away and out of sight. Spike exhaled quietly and shut his eyes. It had only taken one touch from her to chase his anger away.
 
Shaken from sentimentality by the sound of the engine restarting, Spike looked to the device in his hand.
 
“So, I think there are individual Slayers you can contact with that thing. They’re programmed in there. Or you can call all of them at once. But I really don’t want to alarm everyone right away, so just call Pipa. Although… she does get alarmed easily… but… Yeah. No. Call Pipa. She’s organized. And she usually knows what’s going on. She’s like, the Willow of the group. Only, you know... innocent.”
 
Spike had already worked the thing out midway into her ramblings, and had found Pipa’s name. He thought about asking what she meant about Willow, but he already knew that was a conversation for another day.
 
“Alright, Slayer. I’ve got Pipa’s number here.”
 
“Good. Give her a call and tell her we’re on our way and that I’m ten minutes outside of the city limits.”
 
Spike pressed the relevant buttons to call Pipa.
 
“Out of range, Slayer.”
 
“Damn it.”
 
*    *    *
 
“This room is well and truly funky, girl.”
 
That got Sonny laughing freely, her bare chest covered in paste, heaving with each breath. She waited until her laughter had died down to speak. “Yeah, Gina, but are you in pain anymore?”
 
“Nope.” Gina was grinning widely. It was such a weight off her shoulders seeing Sonny smiling and whole. Gina turned to the Caretaker packing up his things. “So, Precious, how long do we have to keep this funky paste on anyway?”
 
“Ah, that is the genius of this particular remedy, Miss Watkins. The paste will dissolve into the skin and disseminate into the air when its power is no longer required.”
 
“And how long is that, Doc?”
 
“Well it will vary with the depth of one’s wounds, Miss Colletti. Your wounds are deeper than those of Miss Watkins.”The Caretaker put a twisted finger to his lip. “But I imagine it should take no longer than fifteen minutes for the worst of your wounds.”
 
“Shit. You’re good, shaman.”
 
“Thank you, Miss Watkins. I’m always happy to be of service.”The Caretaker pulled on his backpack with seemingly great effort and addressed the girls once more. “If there is nothing else I may do for you ladies, please excuse me. I must see Miss Frederiksson about the matter of payment.”
 
“Thanks, Doc.”
 
“Thanks, Precious.”
 
“You are very welcome.” With that, the tiny demon bowed deeply and turned to leave. As he approached the door, he extended a shriveled white arm to the door handle, only to slowly retract it when he discovered he could not reach. Bowing his head, he muttered, “Forgive me, ladies, but-“
 
Gina was up and out of the bed the next moment and opening the door. That gave the shaman a great view from below of her ample chest – the envy of half the Slayers in the house. If he dug it, she was fine with that. He’d hooked them up, after all.
 
But the Caretaker kept his eyes on the door.
 
“You are very kind, Miss Watkins. Until next time.” And with that, the Caretaker trudged slowly down the hall.
 
Gina closed the door behind him and turned back towards her sister, now happy and rapidly healing. “Precious is awesome, girl, don’t get me wrong. But he’s also the ugliest motha fucker I have ever seen in my entire life!”
 
Sonny’s laughter reached new heights of hysteria then, as Gina just looked on smiling.
 
 
*    *    *
 
Fifteen minutes later, Sonny and Gina left the sick room to join the other Slayers downstairs. The Independents were scattered about, with only Betty sitting with the residents of Slayer Central on the sofas in the central common room. Angel stood off to the side, leaning against a pillar.
 
Pipa watched them descend the stairs until they’d seated themselves on the arms of the nearest sofa “Wow. You guys look great!”
 
Several ‘yeahs’ and ‘wows’ followed from the other Slayers in the room.
 
“Precious works wonders, girls.”  Gina finished with a wink.
 
“Yeah, I guess s-“
 
Pipa looked down at her wrist.
 
“Who’s trying to call me? Everybody’s here…”
 
“Is it Buffy?” Maria asked anxiously.
 
“I can’t tell. The signal’s too weak. Wait…”
 
 
*    *    *
 
“Okay, we’re in L.A. now, Spike. The signal should be better. Give it another try.”
 
“I’ve been trying the whole bloody time, Slayer.”
 
“Well, try a-“
 
“Buffy!” Pipa’s disembodied voice rang sharply in the confines of the car.
 
Spike raised the wrist piece to his lips. “Even better, pet.”
 
“Who-”
 
“Spike?!”
 
That was Angel’s voice in the background. Oh this was brilliant, Spike thought, as his face lit up with glee.
 
“Afternoon, Gramps.”
 
But it was Pipa who responded. “So you’re Spike? William the Bloody?”
 
“Just ’Spike’, ducks.”
 
“Wow. Um…” Spike smirked at the sound of her giggles. “I know you – um – I mean… I’ve read about you.”
 
“What, in ol’Rupe’s scribbles?”
 
“You mean the Diaries? Yeah. You’re like… a legend.”
 
Spike grinned ear-to-ear, as he leaned back and got more comfortable in his seat. The next moment he was flinching at the sound of something crashing in the background.
 
“Bloody hell. What’s all that racket then?”
 
“Um, Angel is kicking things, for some reason.”
 
Spike bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Oi! Gramps!” he shouted into the piece. “Save your tootsies for the baddies, yeah? Or, better yet, leave the bastards for the Slayer and me to handle. We just bagged five of ‘em at her place.”
 
“Ow!” he heard Pipa shout. “Stop it, Angel! I’m…” He heard her grunt then. “I’m talking here!”
 
Angel could be easily heard in the background. “Just give me-“
 
“Stop it! I’ve got Slayer business to discuss!”
 
A new voice came through. “Angelus, if you don’t get your fuckin’hands off of her…”
 
Whoa. Whoever that one was, gave even Spike the chills. She sounded like a real badass, that one. He liked her instantly.
 
“Oi. What’s that tosser doin’to you, Longstock?”
 
“Nothing now,” Pipa assured. “So what was that? You said that you guys killed five?!”
 
“Just now. They torched the Slayer’s house. Assholes. We think they’re headed to you birds next.”
 
“Where’s Buffy?”
 
“She’s drivin’the bread box.”
 
“Hi Pipa!” Buffy shouted.
 
“Jesus Christ, Slayer! I’ve got sensitive ear drums, you know!”
 
“Then give me the thingie!”
 
Spike stifled a giggle and whispered into the wrist piece. “What’s that Slayer? What do you want me to give you?”
 
“Spike!”
 
“Ow!”
 
Spike slipped the wrist piece out from under the blanket, where Buffy’s hand quickly snatched it away.
 
“Pipa?” Buffy asked breathlessly.
 
“Buffy! Hi! Are you hurt?”
 
“No. We’re fine. How are you guys?”
 
“Well…”
 
“Pipa?”
 
“Gina and Sonny got attacked by a Dragvlok in Hollywood Park last night.”
 
“Shit.”
 
“No! It’s okay. Well, now it is, anyway. The Caretaker’s come and gone and Gina and Sonny look good to go now.”
 
“You called the Caretaker?”
 
“Well, I called Clem. But yeah, he called the Caretaker.”
 
Spike shouted into the dark of his blanket. “Clem? My Clem?”
 
“Yes, Spike. Your Clem,” Buffy said with exasperation.
 
“Spike’s dating Clem?!” Pipa screeched.
 
“Bloody hell, no!”
 
Buffy let herself laugh for the first time since they’d left her house in flames.
 
“So… Spike’s not dating Clem?”
 
“No.” Buffy giggled a bit more, before calming herself quickly. “Okay. So what happened to the Dragvlok? Did they kill him?”
 
“Um… not exactly. They were badly injured, so… they escaped.”
 
“Pipa, that’s fine. That was smart. You don’t fight when the demon has the advantage. The girls were right to get home and regroup.”
 
“Okay.”
 
“So did the Dragvlok say anything to them before they escaped?”
 
“No. Just some cliché about vengeance being theirs or something.”
 
Buffy sighed. “Okay. Look. I think it’s safe to say the Dragvloks are here and ready for war. We still have a few hours before sundown, but the Dragvloks that attacked me did so in broad daylight. So tell all the Slayers to sit tight at Slayer Central where it’s safe until Spike and I get there. And don’t worry. We’ve got a powerful ally on our side now in him.”
 
Spike heard another crash coming through the wrist piece.
 
“Oi! Longstock! Tell Gramps to-”
 
“Oh god.” Pipa moaned. “That wasn’t Angel.”
 
“Pipa?” Buffy asked.
 
Silence.
 
“Pipa!”