Note: Thanks to my beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support.

SECTION 7 - LAKE OF FIRE

People cry, people moan.
Look for a dry place to call their home.
Try to find some place to rest their bones.
While the Angels and the Devils try to make THEM their own.

(Nirvana, Album - MTV Unplugged with thanks to Zanthinegirl for the suggestion)




Chapter 7.19
Friday, July 19th, 2002


"Buffy?" Spike had his phone pressed to his ear about an instant after it rang, the ring tone no longer quite as crisp as it had once been.

"No, sorry, it's Lydia. Hasn't Buffy called?"

"Not yet. What's up? Aren't you meant to be with her?"

"Buffy and Faith left just after we finished the spell. I'm not sure where they headed. I was trying to track down Giles. I called the school and Penny said to try your number in case he was at the site with you."

"He's here. Want me to get him for you?"

"No, no, it's okay if he's busy. Just ask him... Just say if he gets a minute-."

Spike grimaced and pulled the phone from his ear. "Hoi, talk to your bint before she wears my ears out trying to work out what message she wants me to pass on." He passed the phone to Giles who stood no more than a foot or two away. "An' once you've done that might as well head back an' get what sleep you can. Once the minibuses get back and we start shippin' the non-combatants out I doubt anyone'll get much."

Spike turned and gave his attention to Oz and the group of watchers that the werewolf had rounded up, leading them away from where Giles and his girlfriend were talking. "Same drill as usual, just none of the wanna-." Spike gave a slight cough to cover his slip. "...slayers, so they get a break before we go for the final assault.

Stands to reason that that last attack was them trying to hit us with everything they had before the spell took. I doubt they held anything back... but you guys get to keep a watch just in case. I'll be staying here, too, but it's up to Oz to make the call if you see something that makes you think you need back up!"

The vampire took off at a run as he shouted the last few words.

Oz shrugged and turned to the others, beginning to allocate pairs of watchers to different spots on the site's perimeter.

"Don't you want to know why he took off like that?" one of the two female watchers asked.

Oz tilted his head on one side as if considering. "Nope, if he'd wanted help he would have asked," he replied after a second or two, and then continued with his task. When all the watchers had been assigned a post, Oz took it upon himself to check the basement and make sure no one had sneaked in during the confusion of the clean up.

---

 

Spike watched the scene unfold as if in slow motion from two different camera angles, Buffy's viewpoint superimposed lightly over his own, both of them too far away. There was no way for this to end well, and however it did end, the blame would have to fall on his shoulders. He had had the chance to stop Wood earlier, and instead he had chosen to leave without knowing what had happened to him.

Travers had at least been alerted to his attacker's presence by the other watcher's cry of pain. His first instinct had seemed to be to run but it hadn't taken him long to realise that even half-starved as his attacker was he would be easily able to outdistance a much older man whose recent pace of living had been rather more sedate. He turned to face his attacker, his eyes always seeming to be fixed on the man's face so that Spike wondered if he could even see the hand that held the screwdriver that was caked in blood and less pleasant substances that should have remained inside the other watcher's digestive tract. It was possible, depending how effective cutie's night vision was, that all that the watcher could see were the whites of his attacker's eyes and the occasional flash of once perfect, but now neglected, teeth when he smiled his maniacal grin.

"Now, Robin, what is this? You know we have no quarrel." Travers spoke calmly and evenly, but he didn't lower his arms which he held in the way of someone who had once long ago done a great deal of boxing.

"You were meant to help me kill it!" Wood threw down the accusation. "Now, you're in league with it. You gave it your car. You let it toy with all those girls. The poison you gave me didn't work. You told me that it would kill him. You said the only way that he could live was to kill her but they're both alive..."

"The poison should have worked, Robin. The plan was flawless. At the very least it should have removed the slayer and left you an emotionally broken opponent. For the moment, I admit, we have been forced into an alliance of convenience but Miss Summers has effectively rendered herself irrelevant once the current battle is over. She is now far from unique and amongst so many choices we can surely find several slayers who will be far more amenable to the council's plans. Once she is gone her paramour will be easy game."

"Really not doing much to convince me whose side I should be on, Quentin, but then it's not like anything you're saying is news." Spike could tell by her viewpoint where Buffy was crouching, catching her breath, checking on the wounded man and playing for time until he could get there, but even he could barely make out the shape of her black leather coat in the shadowed darkness of the alley, the only light that of a sliver of moon.

"And I'd guess the trade up policy goes for ex-con slayers as well?" Faith asked, walking down the centre of the street with a sultry sway to her hips as obvious as it was possible to be. "I mean that must have been a real embarrassment, having to go to the American government and ask for a pardon? Sure you'd rather I just disappeared, too, before I do anything else that might embarrass you. I mean, why'd you want us if you could have, say Kennedy, brand spanking new, fresh out the box and as gung ho as they make 'em?"

"Shut up!" the madman shouted. "This isn't about you. This is about him and the monster that murdered my mother."

There was a rasp of flint on steel just inches behind the lunatic's head, making him turn away from the watcher. Spike's features were illuminated in the darkness like a grinning effigy of the devil before he lit his cigarette and clicked the top of his Zippo closed, leaving all the humans with multi-coloured afterimages dancing before their eyes. In that moment of disorientation, Spike reached out and grabbed each of Wood's wrists, letting the red orange tip of the newly lit cigarette tumble to the ground as he pulled them wide with a cracking of bones. The screwdriver dropped from his opponent's hands and with his arms stretched to their widest extent, the grip pulling him into a less than upright position, Wood was defenceless against the head butt that broke his nose.

Spike loosened his hold and the man slumped to the ground, curling into a foetal position as he tried to simultaneously cradle two broken arms and a broken nose.

"What kept you?" Buffy's voice teased from near level with the alley floor. "We've got a wounded guy here."

---

 

Penny's handling of the DeSoto was slightly overcautious, being used to a smaller car with right-hand-drive and rather more visibility, but she still made decent time and turned up not too long after Spike had finished a second cigarette. Since the mini-buses were already occupied taking away civilians or ferrying those injured in the fight to hospital, they had been left with few options. Spike spread blankets over the cracked leather seats before Buffy helped the watcher in, the middle aged man nodding his thanks.

"You know where to catch up once..." Spike let his voice trail off. At one time the watcher's wound, having perforated the man's bowel, would have been a guaranteed ticket to infection and a slow agonizing death. Of course, medicine had moved on, and if the local hospital had still been operational it would have made all the difference but Spike still found it difficult to convince himself that the watcher wasn't another walking dead man.

Penny nodded. "If Wes hasn't left some sort of all clear message by the time I get out of hospital, I'll meet up with the other non-combatants. Otherwise, I'll see you at the reception hall."

"What about Wood?" Travers asked.

"Well, he's not bloody going anywhere in my car," Spike argued, almost blushing when Buffy gave him a look of disappointment. "You can't expect the guy he tried to kill to ride with him and Watchermum can't keep an eye on him and drive at the same time."

"He could ride in the trunk..." the slayer suggested. "If you sort of tied it shut so that he couldn't get out but so he could breathe."

"It all takes time, love, and that's something he hasn't got." Spike nodded to the watcher in the back seat. "Get him out of here," he told Penny. "An' don't worry about picking up any speeding tickets. If the cops stop you, you'll likely end up with an escort."

Buffy continued to argue her case after the car's taillights disappeared. "She could have taken him."

"It would have taken five or ten minutes to clear all the tools and weapons out of the boot and then God knows how long to work out some way to make sure he could breathe but not get out. He can go in the first minibus that gets back. Between a dozen of them, if we put him in with the youngest of the old guys, they should be able to keep an eye on him, what with him not being able to use his hands... or do much else other than breathe through his mouth."

"So what now?" Buffy asked, her eyes darting enviously to where she could just make out Faith and James in the distance, his arm around the slayer's waist as they headed back to watcher central.

Spike shrugged and gave a rueful smile. "Best if I stay here. That way I can be in place before the sun comes up. Figure you an' the others have a bunch of kids an' wrinklies to evacuate and a battle to organise."

Buffy rolled her eyes and looked as if she would have liked to argue, but instead she nodded to Quentin. "Figure you can make it back to the school on your own but make sure he gets handed over to the guys on guard and tied up first. Just remember it was you he wanted to kill." She slipped an arm through Spike's and began to walk toward the half-complete building. "I'll call the others in a minute, arrange a meeting for later. For now, I think we all need some time with our hunnies. Where d'you get the best view around here?" she asked.

Five minutes later the necessary calls were made and Buffy looked down at the sihouette of the darkened town from the highest scaffolding on the site. Spike stood at her back, his arms around her waist and his cheek against her hair and together she felt like they could face whatever was to come.

---

 

Giles choked and spat a mouthful of tea all over his notes. "You're what? B-but you said-."

"I know what I said. I was wrong," Lydia replied nervously, still unsure how Giles would react once he got over the initial surprise. "I guess it was all the being sick with the whisky."

"I see," Giles deliberately kept his tone dry and non-commital. "Have you decided whether you're going to go ahead with..."

"I-I thought you'd want me to keep it," Lydia sounded hopelessly lost and so unsure of herself that Giles couldn't do anything other than abandon his seat and his cold demeanour and take her into his arms.

"Of course I want you to keep it. I just didn't dare assume that with your career to consider that you would feel the same way. Quentin might forgive a minor rebellion but I doubt he'll be quite so agreeable once he finds out about this."

"So you're not angry?" Lydia half-hiccupped.

"I-," Giles gave a sigh and his voice softened considerably. "I might have been if you had chosen the other option. Intellectually, I support a woman's right to choose, but emotionally that doesn't make a whole lot of difference."

"I don't want to get married," Lydia added almost hesitantly. "Not yet, not just because of the pregnancy... but I think we've been doing okay on the living together front, so maybe we could sort of make that official?"

"You want me to move back to England?" Giles sounded more hesitant now.

"Or I could move out here..." Lydia rapidly suggested, as if she sensed his reluctance. "I could get a transfer and I don't have any family left... except for Quentin."

Giles choked and turned red again. Finally, regaining his breath he asked, "Quentin?"

"He was my grandmother's brother but we don't advertise the fact. It would be awkward. Of course, some people know, but..."

"Awkward? I can't imagine why, though it does explain his continued trust in you even after we began our relationship," Giles responded dryly before he gave the woman a reassuring smile. "But you would be willing to make a fresh start here?"

"I'd be willing to try . I might not be cut out to be a California girl, but I'd be willing to try. They do have some schools in the area that aren't built on top of a hellmouth, I suppose?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"Some, I believe. As for being willing to try, I can't ask for anything more." The watcher honestly didn't believe he could. Jenny had said that if Olivia had truly loved him she would have been willing to move. In many ways Lydia and he were still finding their footing and the latest news meant that they could both expect a steep learning curve, but if she was willing to take a chance on him he'd do his best to ensure she never regretted it. He only hoped she didn't start to look like her great uncle as she got older...