Note: Thanks to my betas MadRog and t_geyer for their unending patience, perseverance and support.


SECTION 2 - HOUSE OF FIRE

Building a house of fire, baby
Buildin' it with our love
We are buildin' a house of fire
every time we touch
We are building this house
together, baby
Standing on solid ground
We are building a house of fire
that you can't tear down

(Alice Cooper, Album - Trash)



Chapter 2.06
Tuesday, May 14th, 2002

Fred tried repeatedly to reconnect with Lorne's, or more accurately, Spike's cell phone. Every time, she was connected to an answering service, which announced that the cell phone she was trying to reach was currently switched off. Finally, she was forced to accept that the battery on his cell had given up.

She decided to try speaking to Angel, again. It had only been minutes since he had hung up. It was unlikely that they would have refuelled and been ready to move on so quickly. She really wasn't sure exactly what Lorne had actually said. The signal had been breaking up so badly, but it was the desperation in his voice that had really worried her.

Lorne wasn't given to making mountains out of molehills, but something had banished his normal equanimity, and just maybe she'd heard the words "on fire" somewhere in those few seconds before they had been cut off. She tried to work out how best to express her concerns before she dialled the number. This was going to sound so lame. "Lorne called and he might have said that the bin was on fire, or maybe he said there was gunfire, or maybe I haven't got a clue what he was saying and I can't get back through to him because his phone's dead. No, I said his phone's dead."

Deciding that procrastinating was only making things worse, she dialled the number for Angel's cell phone. An all too familiar answering service message was her only reply.

 

---

 

Spike was determined to savour every last second he and Buffy shared, not because he thought it was likely that either of them would fail to make the return trip, but because, however small, there existed that possibility. So, even though serious business was at hand, it wasn't enough to stop his hand from straying underneath Buffy's coat to brush against the soft flesh of her midriff where her top didn't quite meet her jeans. He still inhaled the perfume of her shampoo, filing it away with his memory of how she felt, sitting on his left thigh, her back to his chest, her head resting to one side and just slightly below his. He memorised her mood, how her emotions were mirrored back to him through their skin; the determination to do whatever needed to be done to save those in danger, impatience to reach their destination and concern that he suspected was directed at him as well as at those trapped in the burning building.

He whispered the three words he'd found himself saying so often in the last week, his lips brushing against her hair. "I love you, my slayer."

Buffy tilted her head back to search his face. Normally, use of her title was a sure sign that Spike was looking for a fight, either verbal or physical. Instead, his tone held only pride. His touch told the same story, though it also betrayed a proprietorial side to the pride that she suspected he would rather have kept hidden, or maybe not, given his choice of wording.

She knew she should object to the concept that she belonged to him, but hadn't she promised him just that. His attitude wasn't politically correct, but it was honest and passionate and maybe it was something to do with the bond but it was the same way she felt about him.

No, what was important was that Spike loved her, even when her duty took precedence over him and their relationship. He didn't worry about being eclipsed. He didn't try to change who she was, or how she did things, other than a request that she not take unnecessary risks. She knew that he would be there to support her, if she needed him. She knew, if she didn't, he could stand back and watch her work, content to know that she was his girl. There was an element of egotism in there. This incredible girl is with me. I'm the one she goes home with at night. Nevertheless, it was vastly outweighed by his feelings for her.

Riley had accepted that she was the slayer, at least to begin with. Spike loved that she was the slayer. Okay, so maybe not the part where she killed his friends, but he loved that she was stronger than him. He loved that she could take charge. He loved her because she was something more than ordinary, not in spite of it. Perhaps for the first time, having that affirmation as a constant in her life allowed her to love those qualities in herself as well.

Buffy processed all this in a fraction of a second. She still had more of a problem saying the words than he did, especially in front of an audience including her ex. Not that he was any old ex. He was the only man she'd fantasised about marrying, but Spike was the man who she was going to marry.

"I love you, my... " she whispered before returning to her normal voice, which thanks to the engine noise probably still wouldn't be heard by either Willow or Gunn. "Okay, I'm trying to think of one word to tell you what I'm thinking, but it's kinda busy in here and I don't think there's one word that can say all that. How about we add this to our list of things to discuss? Later? In private?"

 

---

 

Lorne couldn't see all of the kids any more, only the ones immediately next to him. Smoke permeated the building, coming up from the cellar through gaps in the floorboards and billowing down from the upstairs corridor. The floor was uncomfortably hot, but there was nowhere else to go. The bedrooms weren't an option. They were above the worst part of the fire. When last he'd been able to see the far wall that separated off the reception room from the kitchen, it had still been containing the blaze, but it had looked as if the bedrooms above had caught fire. Sometimes, they would hear rumbling crashes that Lorne thought were probably caused by bits of the upper floors collapsing.

Every few minutes he got the kids to sound out by the numbers, listening for the missing link that would tell him the first of them had passed out or maybe fallen through to the cellar.

In the midst of all the noise, he tried to listen for the sound of the helicopter's return, but it was hopeless. But then wasn't that Angel's job, helping the hopeless.

 

---

 

The helicopter made a wide circle round to end up upwind of the fire. As they moved in as close as they dared the view in front of them suddenly wavered. It was as though they had punctured a bubble around the cabin, letting them see it as it really was. What had previously looked like a fairly steep wooded slope resolved itself into a cleared plateau with an even steeper cliff behind it and a large burning wooden cabin a little over a hundred yards away in the lee of the cliff.

The two pilots stared at the scene before them with some surprise. Then one of them came to a decision.

"This is real, right? This is what you all were talking about before?"

"Yeah, this is the real deal," Buffy assured him.

"Well, I figure if we put down over here then you won't all be needing that ladder." No sooner had he voiced the thought than he put it into action, though Angel reckoned he'd been pretty damn careful setting down until he was sure the "ground" was going to take the chopper's weight.

The pilot had one last word of warning before his passengers disembarked. "I might have to take off again if the wind changes. Head upwind and you'll find me."

"Don't worry. We'll find you," Buffy assured him.

 

---

 

Even though there was nothing they could do until Willow got there, it was impossible for either Buffy or the vampires to resist the urge to get to the burning building as quickly as possible. Buffy was slightly faster, but Spike had the advantage of knowing exactly where he was going.

As it turned out they made it to the front door of the building at almost exactly the same time, with Angel just a couple of seconds behind. "Think we can force it before Red gets here?" he asked Buffy before holding a hand up near the shutters. Only when he couldn't feel any significant heat radiating from the metal, did he first risk a tentative touch and then thump loudly on the metal.

"Anybody home?" he called loudly.

Three answering thumps sounded from the other side of the shutters.

"We'll get you out of there soon. Just hang on a bit longer," Buffy shouted. She bent to grasp the lip at the bottom of the shutters and both Angel and Spike did likewise. They strained to lift the metal, but it soon became apparent that they weren't going to have any luck and they were reluctant to try kicking the shutters in, at least not until Willow tried her spell. Fortunately, she and Gunn arrived before Spike's patience ran out.

The witch took only seconds to observe the position of the locks, before she uttered the command.

"Fragilus."

"That it?" Spike asked as on either side of him Buffy and Angel executed front kicks to the locks, which shattered as if they were made of thin glass.

Spike shrugged, the answer to his question now superfluous. Reaching down, he grasped the bottom edge of the shutters and yanked them sharply upwards. Looking down, he discovered he was knee to face with his favourite green demon. Of course, if pressed he'd be compelled to admit he didn't know many other green demons, but just the same.

He reached down and gripped Lorne by the elbow, pulling him to his feet and out of the building. Angel was there to help the first of the kids out, steering them toward Gunn and then going back as Buffy and Spike also took turns to help the youngsters to crawl the last few yards to freedom.

Lorne was just beginning to think the nightmare was truly over when there was a loud crash from inside the building. Looking round he counted three girls and two boys. The kid who'd played chef was still missing.

Rising to his feet he tried to get to where he could see through the entrance into the building.

"Michael?" he called out, but no answering shout was heard.

Angel tapped Gunn on the shoulder and then held out his hand. "You and Willow get these guys to the chopper."

Gunn pressed something into Angel's outstretched palm and began herding the teenagers and Lorne toward the area where they had left the helicopter.

Angel could tell from the body language that Buffy and Spike were steeling themselves to enter the burning building, using some strange private code.

"Ready, Randy?"

Spike nodded in affirmation. "Ready, Joan?" The pair were just about to clasp hands and brave the smoky atmosphere when Angel stepped between them

"You're injured. You need to breathe," he told them, pointing first at Spike and then at Buffy. "And I have these." He held up the pouch containing the orbs of Nezzla Khan. "I win. Stay close. He might need CPR when I get him out."

Both the blondes looked as if they were about to argue, but then Buffy shrugged as she watched Angel's retreating back.

"He's got a point," she conceded.

"Yeah, so how come you didn't pay attention to it when I made it?" Spike teased as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, so that they could both watch for Angel's return.

"You weren't invulnerable, and I wasn't going to let you go in there on your own." As the seconds ticked by with nothing to show except more smoke billowing from the doorway and from the back of the building both of them grew more tense.

Buffy tilted her head back. "If he shouted for help you'd hear him, right?"

"I'd hear. Wouldn't necessarily tell you," he teased, "but I'd hear."

"Can you hear the kid?" she asked.

"'Fraid not, pet. I guess he got knocked out when the floor gave way."

 

---

 

Angel lowered himself into the cellar through a hole where the floor had given way. He made his way tentatively through the precariously stacked debris in the basement, keeping his arms up to shield his face instinctively when he had to duck through the flames, even though he knew it was unnecessary.

One false move could cause his footing to give way or send burning debris scattering around the room. Logic told him that the missing teen should be near the main door, and he searched mostly along that front wall, clearing away chunks of burning debris, until finally he found what he was looking for. Angel pulled the belt from his trousers and slipped it through the loops in the leather pouch that held the orbs before fastening it round the kid's waist.

Whatever happened now, the kid wasn't going to get any worse. Scooping the teenager over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, Angel scrambled onto the remains of the piano, which had fallen through to the cellar, its weight too much for the weakened floorboards. Checking briefly round the hole in the floor he could make out Spike and Buffy's voices not too far away. Using them as his guide, he decided to go for speed rather then caution. He leapt from his perch to the floor above, landing well clear of the hole's edge and seconds later he emerged through a curtain of billowing smoke into the fresh night air.

Even as Angel bent over to lay the kid at Buffy's feet so that she could check him over, Spike was sweeping off his precious duster, using it to smother the few smouldering embers that had landed on the older vampire. He cast a critical glance at the parcel that decorated the teenager's waist.

"All well and good the kid being in one piece if you turned into a Roman candle before you got him out of there, ya daft ponce." Spike's tone belied the harshness of his words. He shook his head in disbelief at his grandsire's actions, before sliding back into his coat. Spike concentrated his attention on the youth lying on the ground. He was breathing, albeit slightly erratically and he had a pulse. Spike was pretty certain that other than that, there wasn't much that Buffy was capable of checking.

He scooped the kid into his arms, determined not to show it, when his battered body protested at the burden. "Come on, pet. Quicker we get to the helicopter, quicker we can get this one to a hospital."

When the foursome got back to the helicopter, they found everyone else belted in and waiting to go. Spike deposited the youth onto the bench seat next to Lorne, propping his upper half against the side of the vehicle while he strapped him in.

"Are you sure it's good for him to be strapped in like that when he's unconscious?" Buffy asked.

"As opposed to rollin' round the floor like a sack of potatoes? I'm goin' to go with yeah."

"He'll be fine, pumpkin," Lorne assured her. "The pilots have warned the local hospital that we're on our way. They're going to have a trauma team waiting.

And as soon as we've dropped the little darlings off, we can head home so I can have a bath in privacy and a good stiff drink or two."

'Now,' thought Spike, glancing over to where Buffy sat opposite him. 'There's a couple of ideas I can't argue with .'

A/N: Okay, this chapter marks a departure for from the norm for me. I decided I was too rough on Angel in general. (It's just so easy.) This chapter was by way of making up for that a bit, a deliberate attempt to make him look downright heroic. So what I need to know now is: Did I pull it off?