Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 13 – The Devil Incarnate

Spike glared desperately at Lorne. “Go!” he begged. “Catch her before she leaves.”

Lorne didn’t bother answering, just ran out of the room and down the stairs. In the main room, he found Buffy angrily rooting through the contents of his desk, tossing things about like a wild woman.

“Buffy, wait.” He gulped to catch his breath. “Girlfriend, you can’t just go off half cocked. First of all, you’ve left one very upset vampire upstairs.”

She snarled at him. “I was looking for a piece of mail with the damned address on it, so I could call a cab and head back to Wolfram & Hart.” Waving the frame wildly in the air, she fumed. “How could he do this? Spike is his family! Or was his family. I just don’t get how a piece of paper can separate someone from his own bloodline.”

Impeccably timed, at the mention of the vampire’s name, there came a loud thump from upstairs, followed by a stream of the bluest curses ever uttered.

Lorne winced. “Damn, I’m gonna run out of furniture by the time Blondie heals enough to leave. Are you coming back upstairs with me, cutie? I have a feeling someone needs our help.”

With a sigh, and her righteous anger abated only for the moment, Buffy followed the empath back upstairs… to find Spike sprawled on the floor, robe and blanket twisted around his naked body, exposing far more damaged skin than she had seen before.

Even from the floor, Spike was an imposing figure in his anger. “You bloody, stupid, thoughtless, buggering bitch! he spat. “Not back in my life a half-day, and you’re making decisions that aren’t yours to bloody well make – about things you don’t understand.”

Buffy was stunned. He hadn’t cursed her out in years, ~outside of pillow-talk, that is ! and it cut her to the quick. After all, she’d been off in his defense and… oh damn. That must be part of it, his damned pride. And then she realized he was still a muddle on the floor, unmoving.

Her eyes widened with the knowledge that he was unable to stand Oh, no! She dropped to her knees by his side.

“Christ, Spike. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry…” The image of pink scar tissue in very tender places was going to remain with her for a long, long time.

“Summers, if I had any pride left at all where you’re concerned, I’d kick you the hell out of here. But, I don’t and there ain’t nothing you haven’t seen before. Just a bit more banged up than usual, s’all.” His bravado all but gone, he whispered, “Just help me up… please.”

As if snapping out of a trance, Lorne strode to the vampire’s side, and with Buffy’s help, settled Spike back into bed, pulling the robe closed once more to cover the damage still evident on his skin.

Lorne looked pointedly at Spike. “If you two kiddies are okay, I’m gonna make myself scarce for a bit. Seems as if you have a few issues that need airing. If you need me, I’ll be downstairs. Just give a holler.”

When they were alone, Spike reached out. Grabbing Buffy’s hand, he gently tugged, until she was sitting on the side of the bed next to him. She stared fixedly at the wall, unwilling to look at him.

Spike sighed. “I’m sorry, pet. I didn’t mean to take off so on you. First thought I had was ‘Bloody hell, she’s such a magnificent bitch, all puffed up with Slayer strength.’ Problem is, you’d ping off every magical security measure that Wolfram & Hart has in place. You’d never get near ‘im in the state you’re in.” He paused, unsure as to how much the girl had actually heard. “Buffy, luv, look at me.”

She turned, tears gliding down her cheeks. “What the hell did they do to you, Spike. God, what I saw… and your legs. Please,” she begged. “Please tell me you’re not… again.” She couldn’t bring herself to form the words. The thought of him being stuck in a wheelchair again made her ill.

“No, sweet girl. Not paralyzed, not this time.” Spike cupped her chin, raising her head to look into her eyes – to see the compassion shining there, just for him. “There’s been some nerve damage and they don’t hold my weight yet.” Wiggling his toes, he smiled. “See? I’ll be right as rain soon enough, I bloody well hope.”

Like a little girl, Buffy wiped her teary eyes and runny nose on the back of her hand. “I’m so tired of seeing you hurt, Spike. Especially if I’m to blame.”

Spike snorted. “Gotta admit, I’m tired of looking like a bleedin’ Pollock paintin’ myself. I know I’ve said it’s always all about you, Buffy – an’ it might have been what ticked over the poof, but this shite wasn’t anything you can take blame for.”

“Well, it’s not all about me, I get that. So why don’t you tell me what that… that… paper means to you,” she spat, pointing at the frame she’d dropped on the floor, earlier.

“Dunno how much you know about vampire lineage, pet… but I can make it simple. You can trace your family backwards, from your father and mother – to their fathers and mothers, right?”

Buffy nodded.

“Vampires trace their lineage from the beginning – the head of their Order. In my case, the Watchers diaries got somethin’ right - they have the Order of Aurelius marked as my lot. Aurelius turned the Master, who turned Darla, who turned Angelus, who turned Dru – who drained me… but it was Angelus who actually turned me.”

Exasperation colored her voice, “Another lie, then. What is it with you guys lying to me over and over again? Do I have ‘not worthy of the truth’ sign stamped on my forehead? Why would you deny Angel as your Sire? Isn’t that just as bad as what he did to you?”

Spike stiffened, the weight of his impending confession causing his shoulders to slump. “Buffy, when we had our ‘discussion’ about Spike – the Slayer of Slayers, we weren’t exactly best mates, were we? I lied. Was pissed off at the stupid pillock for near a century, and denied his role in my life to you and everyone else. Except myself. Never myself. I might have hated the bastard, but for over twenty years, he was my bloody God and father.”

Buffy reached out for him – to offer what comfort she could, but he flinched away, pulling tighter into himself.

“What Angel did, was cast me out of the family and out of the whole bloody Order. He denied me to himself, and the rest of the demon world. Do you have any idea how many demons have seen that by now? Have heard of my disgrace? This was the worst insult he could have done. Selling Sire’s Rights means the vamp – usually an incorrigible fledge – cannot be taught to mind. Too bloody stupid to be brought to heel and become a working part of the family unit, he’s better off elsewhere or dusted.”

Raising his head, Spike looked directly into Buffy’s eyes, boring into her very soul. “Luv, I was one of the youngest Master Vampires in the history of our Order. Been able to care for myself an’ Dru against all odds after the soul hobbled our Father. I’ve not been a burden on anyone since I’m ten years turned. Can you even begin to understand what his betrayal meant to me? What it still means to me?

“S’like taking your name out of the family bible, an’ sayin’ that you never existed. No little Buffy, firstborn of the Summers clan. No elder sister to Dawn. No Buffy, ever. An everyone knowin’ you’re still here – walkin’ around, unwanted and meaning less than trash to those who bore you.”

This time, Buffy pushed through the anguished vampire’s defenses, gathering Spike into her arms and rocking him gently. Mercifully, he relaxed into her embrace, accepting her comfort and gaining strength from it.

“S’why I gave up fighting, once I found out my lot in life. The demon who’d bought me took great delight in telling me how worthless I was to my Sire. He cut me – scarred me.” Spike brought Buffy’s hand to his neck, where Angelus had claimed him. “He desecrated the familial mark. Everyone would be able to tell I’d been ousted from my Order. I’d have been better off dusted.”

Buffy looked at the bite mark, or rather where the mark had been defaced. An ugly jagged cut bisected the claim. She stroked her fingers over the mark, then placed a kiss on the same spot.

“Never worthless, Spike,” she murmured. “A definite pain in the ass, but never worthless.”

Relief flooded his system. Never, never had he expected this level of compassion from the girl. Yeah, they’d gotten closer over the years, but this directly involved Angel in the role of twat, and she’d never been able to accept that before. He burrowed deeper into her arms, allowing himself the comfort for a while longer.

For her part, Buffy relished the feel of the vampire in her arms. Spike was hurting, badly. And for a change, she was able to offer him relief, as he’d often done for her in those horrid days fresh from the grave. It felt damned good as she gently stroked his strong back, fingers playing in the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

She branched out, running her fingers in figure eights over Spike’s shoulders, when he flinched. Buffy pulled the robe away from his shoulders, noting the massive discoloration still in evidence.

“Alright, Spike, this has gone far enough,” Buffy demanded, releasing him from the cradle of her arms. “What the fuck happened to you at this place? If you’ve been here for four days, glutting on the best that humans can shed, according to Lorne… why the hell are you still all banged up? These have got to be long standing injuries. Talk to me, please. I need to understand.”

Spike closed the robe around his body, easing back to lie on the pillows. “S’not an easy tale to tell, pet. Haven’t even spoken of it to Lorne, and since he’n Gunn are the ones who found me passed out cold, I’d wager what they found was worse’n I remember.”

“You need to tell someone,” she encouraged. “Believe me, when you hold stuff back, it’s a whole world of badness. You remember our year from hell? If I can spare you that, it’s worth listening to it all now. I may not be all stoic-y, but I’ll listen.”

Spike sighed. “Just do me a favor an’ don’t look at me for a bit. I couldn’t bear to see you, hearin’ all that was done.”

Buffy nodded and turned around, backing up on the bed until she could rest her head against his shoulder. “This okay, Spike? I’ll even keep my eyes closed. I just… just… hold onto me, and tell me what you can.”

He placed a kiss on the crown of her head, grateful for her warmth; grounding him for the personal hell he was about to unleash.

“I remember comin’ to, face to face with a S’lugith demon – not one of your overly beastly types – all red hair and little horns. Taller’n me and outweighed me some. Whatever I’d been shot up with kept me sluggish and muzzy, so’s fighting wasn’t the wisest way to go. He stripped me, an’ I don’t think I wore another stitch of clothing until I came to, here.” Spike’s hand crept into Buffy’s lap, fingers intertwining; another point of contact and comfort.

“The tosser shaved me, bare as a babe – and had me collared, cuffed, ringed an’ chained to the wall. Left me hungry, too. Can’t say as much as it mattered at that point, just slept the best I could. The real fun started the next day.”

Spike’s fingers tightened around Buffy’s, finding strength in her quiet acceptance. “He cuffed me open like a bloody starfish on the cot I slept on, pet,” he sobbed. “He gagged me and fucked me and if I had a wish comin’ to me at that moment, I would have asked to die again. To stay dead. And every day for weeks he did the same bloody thing.”

Buffy couldn’t stand it anymore. Spike’s chest hitched from the emotions roiling through his body. She turned around and kneeled up, straddling his slender hips and wrapped her arms around his trembling torso.

“C’mon, baby. You can get through this,” she crooned. “Get it all out and we can move past it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Spike calmed slightly in her arms, enough to go on. “It all went wonky from there. I lost track of time. S’like I wasn’t there no more, an’ I don’t know where I went. Went hungry lots, the S’lugith stopped comin’ regular for awhile. An’ when he came back regular again, he sent other demons in to me. Bit one, I think – far as I can remember. Lost m’fangs for it.”

That was all she could take. Disentangling herself, Buffy ran to the bathroom and tossed up the refreshments she’d had earlier. She splashed water on her face and rinsed her mouth before walking back into the bedroom.

Carefully, she sat back down on the bed. Spike had resettled himself on the pillows, looking far calmer than he had been when she left.

“M’alright, Slayer. C’mere an’ look.” He opened his mouth, showing her his almost fully erupted incisors. She ran her finger gently along the gumline, as if reassuring herself that he was indeed, fine.

“Luv, I don’t know how to thank you. For just listenin’ and not thinkin’ less of me. As bad as the physical shite was… the demon in me is more freaked by being Orderless. No Sire for last chance reprieves, no hope for help… it hurts. Demon and soul, pet. We’re just lost.”

Buffy shook her head. “You need to listen to me, Spike. You are not alone. From now on, you’ll always have me by your side. You need anything, and I’ll do what I can. Right now, I have to go back to Angel. He’ll get awfully suspicious if Lorne doesn’t bring me back. But I promise you… I’ll see you later this evening. I just need… to clear my head and settle some things.”

Spike relaxed further into the bedclothes, weariness evident in every line of his being. “Don’t do anything stupid, pet. I need you back here. Not gonna lose you again,” he slurred, well on his way to falling asleep after his emotional upheaval.

“Don’t you worry, Spike,” Buffy promised. “I’ll be back.” Brushing a few errant curls from his forehead, she kissed him, and left.

~*~

Less than an hour later, she stood outside the door to Angel’s office.

Angel looked up from his paperwork. “Buffy! Glad to see you’re back from your day with Lorne. How’d it go?”

“It was cool. Saw lots of interesting things,” she said. “Actually, shopping is overrated. I did enjoy spending time with Lorne. He’s got the dirt on so many people. You’d be amazed who we gossiped about.”

“Nah, Lorne’s got dirt on everyone. I’d hate to piss him off. I’m glad he kept you entertained, ‘cause this paperwork will be the death of me. I’ve still got hours to go, baby. Can you keep yourself busy?”

No way. Buffy put on her best pout. “Aw, Angel, I missed you so much. Couldn’t you just cancel the rest of your appointments for the day? Please? For me?”

One look at her pretty face, and he was lost. “You’re not good for the company, Buffy, but I can’t refuse you when you beg so prettily.” A few phone calls later, and he was free.

“Good!” She climbed onto his lap. “I’ve got so much to share with you, Angel… I don’t know quite where to begin.”  
Just a quickie - real life was alternately very bad (emergency room and bleeding leg) and very good (home within a few hours with leg intact and no longer bleeding). But... just for you - the latest chapter - Hell Hath No Fury. Hope it satisfies.

Cross posted to sickchicks and my regular journal.


Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 14 – Hell Hath No Fury

Buffy smiled brightly, wiggling her bottom on Angel’s lap. “You know… this whole thing has worked out lots better than I ever expected it to. I mean, I had a fairly nice life in Rome, met tons of interesting people and never had to worry about Dawn. But I missed the old and familiar.”

“Hey!” Angel jostled her teasingly. “Is that any way to talk to the man you love? Calling him old and familiar?”

“I guess not,” she giggled. “The ‘old’ certainly fits. It’s just the ‘familiar’ I’m not so sure about anymore.”

Angel frowned. “What do you mean, I’m not ‘familiar’ anymore? I haven’t changed. Vampire, remember?”

She reached out to touch his face, willing herself to appear happy and carefree. “It’s not so much your appearance, though I do have to mention all that yummy otter blood you go on about? Must be richer than pig ‘cause you’ve filled out a little from our earlier days.”

Angel laughed out loud. “Are you telling me I’ve lost my girlish figure? Buffy, I’m hurt.”

“Nah… well, just a little. Then again, I’ve put on a couple of pounds, too.” Which she emphasized by once again bouncing lightly on his lap. ~Think of Spike, think of Spike, think of Spike ~ a mantra running through her mind. It was the only way she could do this, especially feeling the way – he – was starting to react to her wiggling. But if her little lap dance was enough to keep Angel off kilter… It wouldn’t do to have the supposed vamp in her life smell the other vamp in her life on her – damned vampire bloodhound.

Angel’s big hands kneaded at the curves of her waist. “Oh yeah, you’re just breaking my… lap with all that extra poundage bouncing around. I’m sure we can figure out a way to work it off,” he mused with a lazy, indulgent smile. “So tell me, how am I unfamiliar to you?”

She smiled brightly. “Well, first of all, you’re not quite the Broody McBroodypants you used to be. You smile and laugh, and at the party you threw for me… us? You were quite the social butterfly.”

“And this is a bad thing?”

“Again with the ‘no.’ It’s just part of the not familiar.” She stifled a sigh, wondering how to get the conversation back on track. “You’re making me sorry I brought it up in the first place. I’m losing my happy mood.”

He shrugged. “Don’t fret, Buff. We can always pick apart my differences another time. Why don’t you just tell me about your day?”

“Oh yeah.” She bounced again, determined to keep him going. “I’ve gotta tell you how happy I am that you had Lorne show me around. He’s sweet. And we had so much in common. We talked about clothes and shoes, which was all of the good. That demon’s got a wicked sense of style.”

Angel was amused. “So, you ladies had your girl talk. What else did you do? That certainly didn’t take up the entire day.”

Buffy shook her head. “Nope, not even close. God, we must have talked for hours! Lorne was worried about his ex-boyfriend, and I got to talking about my exes. I told him there was no way I’d be as kindhearted as he was in taking an ex into my home to nurse back to health.” She pretended to pout. “He laughed at me, Angel! He said I’d just have to see how sweet his ex was, and took me home to meet him.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Lorne would bring home every stray he meets. He’s too kind hearted for his own good, Buff. I think this Ramone he’s got holed up is the one who ran off with his money a couple of years ago. You must have been bored out of your mind, meeting this guy.”

Angel stopped, tilting his head as if he’d suddenly come across a puzzle that he wanted to solve. He nuzzled the left side of Buffy’s neck, relishing her increased heartbeat, her arousal… and the something else that had caught his attention. Something he couldn’t quite place… “Buff, did you run into someone we know, by any chance? Or come up against a demon? There’s a strange scent coming from you that I just can’t place.”

“Eeeew, Angel! How many times have I told you that scenty-thing you do is way creepy?” Buffy made a moue of disgust. “You did it to me that last night in Sunnydale – with Spike. It made me feel like a peed on hydrant. If you wanna know why I smell weird, it’s ‘cause Lorne served some lovely refreshments but the cheesecake decided to come back and take a bow. Eau de Vomit Buffy – that’s me. I’ll be all right, thanks ever so for asking.”

Angel winced, but hid it quickly. “It’s alright, Lover,” he soothed. “I’m sorry if I upset you. Are you feeling better? No more tummy ache?”

~It’s now or never, Buffy. Get the show on the road. Sarah Bernhardt, eat your heart out! ~

Buffy nestled into his lap and looked up at him, endearing as a child. “Angel, we need to talk. I’ve got to put some issues behind me before embracing our future together as a family.”

She stroked the side of his face, all the while keeping eye contact. “It’s been a bad year for me, Angel. You know that. I’ve spent hours on the phone with you, crying over my losses. I’ve missed Mom and Tara. Their graves were a comfort to me. I’ve missed all the little girls who died in our cause, and we have nothing to remember them by. Now, I want to talk about you.”

She sighed. “The oddest thing is, I miss Anya and Spike so much. Brave and loyal, no matter how badly we treated them for years. I was so proud of them both.”

Lifting her tear-streaked face, she asked, “Did you ever mourn for your son?”

Angel swallowed his panic. Surely she had no idea… “My son? I never had any children, Buff. It’s part of why I broke up with you all those years ago – so you could have a normal life with someone who could give you children.”

“But I don’t understand.” Buffy pulled out all the stops, fluttering her lashes and letting tears shine through. “Spike told me when a vampire Sires another vampire, he becomes a childe. And the Sire is the Father or Mother. Don’t you miss your children, Angel? Dru, and Spike? How can you feel any peace at all, not knowing where one is, and knowing that the other is dust from saving all of us.?

“With all we’ve been through, family is the most important thing to me. You and I are now the heads of our respective families. My father doesn’t count, which means it’s just me and Dawnie. You’ve only got Drusilla, wherever she might be. What I want to know, is have you ever mourned Spike’s passing? Have you ever honored his sacrifice – or the fact that he more than likely saved you from disintegrating?”

Angel shrugged his shoulders. “He’s dust, Buffy. Gone and forgotten. Who’s going to mourn a dead parasite?”

Buffy was horrified, and couldn’t hide it even to keep her plan going. “How can you say that? Even the Scoobies had a memorial service in his honor. Giles, even. And he’s your childe. As close to a son as you’ll ever have. Spike told me it wasn’t your cuckoo-bird Drusilla who turned him, but you. Doesn’t that make you responsible? Shouldn’t you care if he’s undead or gone? Why aren’t you proud of his accomplishments?”

Angel’s expression shifted from amiable to irritated. “I don’t get what the big deal is, Buff. Dru is off somewhere, doing her own thing like countless other vampires. Spike is dust. Gone. Finito! He was a murderous bastard, and now he’s gone. One less blight I unleashed on the world that I have to worry about these days. What’s the big deal to you?”

Buffy kneeled up on the chair, her thighs straddling the vampire’s lap. “You really have no clue, do you?” she growled. “What it means to have family… to be a part of a family… to take care of your family above all other things?”

Reaching behind her back in her most practiced move, Buffy withdrew a wooden stake from the casing sewn into the waistband of her skirt. She drew back her arm, and plunged the stake into Angel’s chest.

“I do this in the name of your childe, Spike!”Is In the Details – Chapter 15 – Flesh and Blood

With a final push, Buffy got off the chair, wiping her hands on her skirt.

Angel couldn’t help but yell, a look of panic in his eyes as he waited to dust.

And waited.

In vain.

Buffy’s stake pinned him to his padded leather chair. The business end poked straight through the muscle and bone of Angel’s shoulder into the other side of the chair, with the remainder sticking from his chest approximately three inches above his heart.

She was in full Slayer mode, and not to be denied. “Angel, if you move more than a quarter of an inch, I can guarantee I have another stake with your name on it – and this time, I won’t be playing games.”

Wesley threw the door open, a crossbow trained on Buffy before he walked through the door. “Step away from Angel, Miss Summers. You shan’t be allowed to harm him.”

“Can it, Wes,” Buffy spat, without looking in his direction. “As long as he sits on his ass in that chair, he’ll get to unlive another day. Now, get me Charles Gunn.”

Wesley hesitated, clearly torn between leaving his friend and boss alone with the apparently crazed Slayer, and getting additional backup. He looked to Angel for guidance.

Angel grimaced, clearly in pain. “Go get Gunn. I don’t know what the hell she wants with him, but since I’m stuck here for the moment – humor her.”

“Smart move, Angel,” Buffy growled, pacing in front of the desk like a lioness observing her downed prey. “I’ll give you a chance to tell me just what the fuck is wrong with you. Try and pull anything or call in backup, and your dust will be settling on their shoulders before they reach you.”

“Can I pull this thing out of my shoulder while we ‘talk’ about whatever it is that’s got you upset?”

Buffy glowered. “Have I made my point about you staying right where you are?”

“Not gonna move a muscle, lover.” Angel glared at her and reached for the stake. He grunted through the pain, as he grasped the end of the stake, pulling it through both padding and muscle, blood slowly oozed from the wound left as the wood exited his shoulder.

The office door opened – Gunn entering first, nodding to the Slayer as he moved into the room. He was followed by Wesley and – Harmony? At the last moment, Lorne squeezed into the room, sidling over to stand by Gunn.

Angel looked disgusted. “Need an audience for this, Buffy? I thought you liked to do your staking alone.”

“You know? I’m gonna reconsider my offer. No more words from you unless I ask you a direct question.” Hands on her hips, the Slayer glanced around the room, sizing up potential allies. “Harmony, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, Wes said you went all postal and staked Angel, but he wasn’t dust. And then he went to get Charles and Lorne showed up,” the nervous vampiress babbled. “And I’m just here to help if I can. It’s like, my job to help, you know?”

“Fine, as long as you… wait a minute. Just who are you here to help?”

“Um… whoever wins?”

The Slayer shook her head. “Enough! Go sit down, Harmony, and just keep out of the way.” She glanced back at Angel.

“I asked you a question before. Do you remember it?”

Angel smirked, infuriatingly calm. “You asked me a lot of things, Buff. Wanna try being specific?”

Buffy wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug expression from his face, but decided restraint was the better part of valor for the moment. His questions could wait.

She turned towards her audience. “You’re all somewhat familiar with Spike’s past regarding Angel, and the whole Scourge of Europe thingy, yes? All baddest ass vamps that roamed the continent, killing and drinking their way through history until Angel got cursed with his soul for chowing down on the wrong entrée.

“And I don’t have to repeat Angel’s business here in Los Angeles, since you’ve all lived it. What I want to know, Wes,” she said, staring at the former Watcher, “is how much your boss has told you about Spike since you’ve been working together.”

“Well, about William the Bloody,” Wes murmured, “not all that much, exactly. That he’s Drusilla’s get, for one. And he’d tortured Angel over the Gem of Amara. Pretty much nothing else after he’d been neutered by that Initiative chip and forced to work with you for cash and sustenance.”

Eyes cold, emotions held in check, Buffy asked one final question. “And do you know where Spike is now?”

Without hestitation, Wes replied. “Last I heard, Angel said he’d gone on to seek his fortune elsewhere. They’d done nothing but fight like cats and dogs ever since he arrived at these offices.”

Oh, shit!

Buffy looked over at Angel, who’d finally realized the direction of the fishing expedition she’d been on earlier.

She turned back to Wes. “I suppose you don’t know that the last time I saw Spike, he was burning to ash at the bottom of the Hellmouth – making sure the Uber Vamps were all dusted, and everyone still alive made it out safely. He wouldn’t leave with me, you know. I tried to get him to go when all the vamps were dusted, and the walls were coming down around our ears. He made me go, saying he would stay to do the clean up.”

Buffy took a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions under control. “And that for the past year, Angel has helped me get through my grief at losing my equal in battle. A vamp who fought by my side night after night for no other reason than I asked him to. A vampire who fought for and won back his very soul.”

A low murmur ran through the room as the news of Spike’s soul made the rounds. A soul? When did this happen?

Wesley Wyndham-Pryce drew himself up to his full height, and turned to face Angel. “Surely this cannot be, Angel? Two vampires with souls? It would have come to someone’s attention. For a demon to actually seek out and fight for a soul is epic!”

Angel looked at the man he once considered his closest friend, his expression calm and unbothered. “Ooops? I never thought it was important; it was only Spike, after all. Considering he was gone in two days, it wasn’t worth mentioning.”

“Are you insane?” Gunn stormed across the room, banging both fists on the desk in front of Angel. “You tellin’ me you knew Spike had a soul and…?”

Lorne pulled the angry man out of the line of fire. “Whoa, buckaroo. Back off and leave the big guy to the little woman.” When they were no longer the focus of attention, the green-skinned demon silently motioned for Gunn to control himself.

Harmony, of course, had her own two cents to chime in. “Ewww, so now not only is he a Slayer loving freak – he has a soul, too? What is it about the Slayer that turns strong vampires into mush?”

Wes looked baffled. “Angel, I don’t understand how you could keep such information to yourself? Why did you let Spike leave? Surely the two of you could have worked out your differences, and become a formidable team against the evil we fight on a daily basis.”

Buffy decided that enough was enough. “Yes, Angel. Tell me, please. Why did you let Spike leave? Did it slip your mind that I might have wanted to know he’d risen like a phoenix? Did my crying on the phone for hours at a time not remind you how I’d mourned for my… companion for weeks after I’d gone to England?”

“Yo, Blondie! Head’s up!”

Buffy looked towards the back of the room, just as Gunn tossed something her way – catching it on the fly. A quick look at the object in her hands, and she knew things were about to heat up. She placed the bag with the receipt and silver ring in front of the annoyed vampire.

“Would you mind explaining this to me, lover? Why do you have one of Spike’s silver thumb rings?”

~Keep calm, she can’t possibly know anything. ~ Angel smiled. “Simple, really. If it is his, at all. It probably just fell off his finger and the housecleaning staff left it on my desk. How can you be so sure it’s Spike’s?”

It was Buffy’s turn to smile – unpleasantly. “You know that Spike and I had had a long standing sexual relationship, right? I mean, you claimed to have smelt him all over me in Sunnydale.”

Angel looked very uneasy. “Yeah, well, it’s not something that fills me with joy to think about. Still doesn’t tell me how you know that’s his ring.”

“Sorry, baby. I’ll explain. Spike was rather… shall we say, imaginative. He could have me screaming in less than a minute flat with the help of that very ring, so I’ve got to tell you – I could identify it blindfolded. Have, in fact. Many, many times.” Ha! Stuff that in your pipe and smoke it, buster!

There were two vampires and four humans in attendance. Buffy’s smirk graced the only closed mouth in the office.

“Ooops! Was that just a little TMI for the crowd? So sorry.” Her peripheral vision registered Angel’s movement behind her. One smooth move behind her back and a flick of her wrist later, a spare stake was embedded in the chair, next to Angel’s head.

“Did I not make myself very clear about the whole not-moving thingy before? Besides, my little party’s just beginning.” Buffy removed the ring from the plastic bag and placed it on her middle finger. It was a bit loose, but she gained some measure of comfort knowing it was out of Angel’s possession for good.

She removed the receipt from the bag. “Okay, back to lawyery mode. I feel I’ve established the identity of the ring’s proper owner – now it’s time to move on to the next item. This receipt says you delivered some sort of property to a place called Dante’s, and it was signed for by a… Pret? It makes me wonder what the hell it was that you delivered.”

Focus, Buffy – don’t let this get away from you “I mean, in the short time I’ve been back with you, I’ve seen you delegate everything from chairing meetings with important clients to picking up your dry cleaning to your little minions. They hop and bow and scrape for Angel, the King of Wolfram & Hart. Why would you take the time to hand deliver something worth what? A dollar?”

They stared at each other from across the desk, neither combatant giving an inch in their battle of wills.

“This would be a lovely time to actually say something, Angel,” she muttered. “You wanna tell me just what kind of a place Dante’s is? ‘Cause if not, I can always get someone to help you out.”

Angel glowered. This certainly didn’t bode well for him, but maybe – if he got really lucky - she was just blowing smoke, and he’d come out of this with just his dignity slightly frayed.

“It’s been awhile, Buff,” Angel mused, making an arrogant play of checking over the receipt. “Dante’s… let me think. Oh yeah, Dante’s. A demon club with a strict no-humans policy. The owner and I knew each other way back in the day… and I was just repaying an old debt. The money was just token – making it legal. No biggie, baby. I got rid of something I didn’t want, and he got something he did. Don’t tell me you’re coming down on a fair trade now, are you?”

This time, the scuffle from the back of the room was Gunn, restraining a visibly angered Lorne.

Buffy seethed. How could he be such a callous bastard? He had to know how close he was to being exposed, and yet he sat there playing to the crowd, so sure of himself.

“Um, you guys?” Harmony raised her hand, desperately looking like she had something to say.

“Not now, Harmony. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something here?” Wes snapped.

“Fine,” the vampiress sulked. “Just don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”

Lorne walked over to Buffy. Handing her the framed document, he whispered, “I think it’s time, cupcake. The crowd is growing restless, if you catch my drift.”

Buffy nodded, gripping the frame tightly in her hands. She took a deep breath, stilling within herself, ready to confront Angel head on and forever destroying the remnants of their once perfect love.

“How can you sit there, you sanctimonious bastard, and lie to me?” She slammed the frame down on his desk, shattering the glass. “How could you stand to look into the faces of your friends and tell them Spike walked out of here of his own free will?”

Okay, so maybe a bone-shattering injury would accompany that tattered dignity, Angel thought as he recognized the document and his signature. “You’re sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you, Buff,” he made one last attempt. “How I run my life and deal with my friends is none of your business. Anything I did was legal and above board, according to vampiric Lore and demon laws.”

Buffy threw back her head and laughed – a truly ugly sound, much to the amazement of everyone in the room.

“So, because you stuck to the letter of the Lore, you think your actions are justified? You sold a member of your own family – if not by flesh, then most certainly by blood – and you’re okay with it? How dare you,” she seethed. “What gives you the right to play God with another soul?”

Angel grabbed the shattered frame and stood. “This gave me the right,” he spat, waving it around, spraying shards of glass in all directions. “I owned his ass lock, stock and balls. I’d had enough of his shit and exercised my rights as his Sire. He’s gone now, surely dusted long ago, so there’s really no need for this melodrama, Buffy. Get over it.”

Emotion juddered through Buffy’s small frame as she ranted on: “You fucking bastard. You mean to tell me you sold him, walked away and never checked up on what happened to him? Couldn’t even be bothered to confirm his third death?”

Pause. The room waited to hear Angel’s answer.

In the silence, a scuffle was heard in the hallway, diverting everyone’s attention to the door swinging open and revealing a newcomer to the proceedings – lounging against the door jamb, dressed as always in leather and black denim, with his familiar smirk in place.

“Hello, Peaches.”
Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 16 – Even at the Turning of the Tide

Hello, Peaches.

Angel paled visibly. It seemed that bluffing and brazening his way through just went out the window as options. Once again the proverbial bad penny had turned up at his doorstep.

~That’s my vampire! ~ Buffy grinned. “Always did like to make an entrance,” she murmured, thinking back to a certain Parent’s Night.

They never listened to her, Harmony pouted. It would serve them right if Blondie Bear took everyone apart.

Wes stared as if he’d spotted the Golden Fleece.

Lorne and Gunn immediately leapt to Spike’s side for support just before his legs gave way.

“Gorgeous entrance, my little drama Queen.” Lorne whispered. “Can you stand any longer or do you need to put your tush down?”

Spike grimaced. “Barely holding on, mate. Sittin’ sounds like a wonderful idea. Lyin’ down would be better, but…”

Buffy shoved her way through the chairs blocking her path to Spike the moment she saw the injured vampire’s legs start to buckle. She’d argued against this foolhardy stunt but Spike had insisted on showing up. Said he wanted to ‘shove his survival in the twat’s face’ and made the trip to Wolfram & Hart out of sheer stubbornness.

She reached Spike just as he’d been gentled onto one of the sofas towards the back of the office. “You know you shouldn’t be out of bed, don’t you?” Buffy ran her fingers over the vampire’s shoulder. “Are you going to be alright or do you need to go back to Lorne’s place? I think you made your point just by showing up.”

“M’fine, pet. Leastwise for the moment. Go do your vengeful bitch thing. M’not missin’ a bleedin’ moment of it.”

Wes watched them guardedly. What he knew of Spike had been gleaned from Watchers’ Journals and Angel’s descriptions. He was unsure if Spike was baiting them all into believing he was weak; all the better to strike at them when their guard was down. However, noticing the solicitous way the Slayer was acting, and the ease with which both Lorne and Gunn interacted with the vampire, he relaxed enough to allow some common decency to surface.

Noting Spike’s weakened state, he pulled Harmony aside. “Do make yourself useful, dear, and heat up a thermos of the house special for our guest.”

The vampiress simply nodded, and left without an argument.

Unable to see through the small knot of people that had gathered around Spike, Angel became enraged, smashing his fists down on the hardwood desk with enough force to break it in two, driving splinters deep into the meat of his hands.

“What the hell is wrong with you people, fawning all over that sycophant like he matters to any of you? Buffy, really – is this what turns you on – danger boy? I mean he tried to kill you and all your little Scoobies for years.” Angel sneered, baring teeth that were almost fangs. “I could have stayed Angelus if that’s all it takes to keep you satisfied.”

Spike kept his eyes on the Slayer and smirked, as she performed a classic Buffy maneuver – she rolled her eyes. ~Elegantly put, luv. ~

Harmony quietly let herself back into the room, handing the thermos of warmed otter blood to Spike.

“Thanks, pet,” he said, grateful for the warmth and strength it provided as he downed most of the viscous fluid in one swallow.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Turning to Buffy, the nervous vampiress said, “I didn’t have anything to do with this, I swear. I would never …I mean, killing? Yeah – vampire. But what he did was wrong.”

In a move that surprised them both, Buffy grabbed Harmony into a quick hug. “If I thought for one moment that you had something to do with this,” she said, “I’d stake you myself. But Spike can use all the support he can get, and I do know that you cared for him.”

Wesley walked over to the destroyed desk, intent on calming things down before the situation got even more out of hand. He wasn’t happy with the things his friend had done, or the attitude he was displaying – Wes just couldn’t bring himself to summarily abandon Angel after all their years together.

The irate vampire placed his hands on Wes’ shoulders… and pushed him to the floor without a word of apology for the rough treatment, acting more like he wasn’t there at all.

He turned his full, fiery attention to Spike, getting as close as Buffy would let him. “Just like a fucking cockroach, aren’t you Spike? Church organs, fire, Slayers… even dumping you from the Order... nothing gets rid of you. You’re still crawling around no matter how often you’re stepped on.”

“And that makes you what, you ponce - a dung beetle? All full of shite? Couldn't best me fists and fangs, could you, you bastard?” Spike fumed, wishing he could stand up and face his… this… enemy on a more level battleground. Being seated – looking up – was too damned reminiscent of all those months in a bloody wheelchair, listening to Angelus pontificate as he stole Spike’s life away piece by piece.

“Had to shoot me in the back to take me out. Why the fuck didn't you just drain me or dust me if you hated me so much? I could understand that. We’re vampires – s’what we do.”

Angel lunged past Buffy, knocking the almost empty thermos of blood out of Spike’s hands. “Didn't want to dirty my hands with the likes of you, boy. I was sure you'd be dust by the end of the week, and out of my hair one way or the other.”

Gunn rushed forward, shoving the elder vampire away from Spike. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man? First you do the dirty and sell out your kin, knowin’ he’s got a soul same as you. Now you’re trying to attack the dude for sittin’ on a damned sofa.

“Tell me, Angel. Tell all of us. What can we expect from you now? If we piss you off – you gonna sell us out, too?” Gunn shook his head. “True colors, man. Fucking vampire. Never should have trusted you.”

Angel remained silent, glowering.

Gunn turned to Spike. “Look, dude. I don’t know you enough to even think about trusting you, and if you ever flash a fang at me I’ll dust you so fast you won’t see it comin.’ But you were wronged, big time – and I’m all for giving you one chance. We cool?”

Spike grinned. “Knowin’ where I stand with a bloke s’a good start.”

Buffy could barely contain her anger. The unprovoked attack on Spike had her delving deep into Mama Bear territory. Grabbing Angel by the shirt, she flung him back towards his desk.

“You get off that chair again, and I’ll find Wes’ crossbow,” she threatened. “What happened to the compassion in you? I thought your soul guided you to be decent and good. Are you sure you still have the bloody thing?"

Her unconscious usage of Spike’s favorite word made Angel’s fangs itch. “You know I do, Buff.” Smooth as silk he sounded, despite his rage, unruffled by everyone’s stares. “Soul's all anchored... it was part of the reason why I agreed to work here in the first place. Wolfram & Hart agreed to anchor my soul.” With a wicked grin, he asked, “Did I go out and kill anyone after we fucked?”

“No, but apparently you attempted to before sleeping with me – when there wasn’t even a chance that your soul was lost.”

Angel’s frustration began to rear its ugly head once more. “You know, I really don't get what you're so upset about. This was vampire business, settled under demon laws and practices.”

Why didn’t he see how wrong he was? Maybe the soul anchoring spell was faulty. Buffy wouldn’t put it past the Evil Empire to screw it up somehow, on purpose. She tried to explain, slowly – like one would to a small, really stupid child.

“No, Angel. It wasn't settled at all. Spike was right - vampire business is settled with fists, fangs or
stakes. You ’settled’ it like a coward. When his back was turned you drugged him and dumped him on someone else’s doorstep.”

Buffy felt ill. The more she thought about just what he’d done, the more nauseous she became. “How dare you call yourself a champion? How can you justify what you did? Spike was never yours to sell off like chattel.”

Obviously there was no answer that would satisfy her, so Angel just muttered, “He was family – I was his Sire. I had rights where his disposition was involved and I sold ‘em. Not having to look into his damned face or hear his bullshit gave me peace and quiet. Simple. Done.”

Buffy stared at him for a moment, still not believing the words coming out of his mouth. How deeply he believed what he was saying. The set of Angel’s shoulders told her he’d given up trying to justify his actions – that they were just that… his , and he’d make no further explanations.

She had an epiphany as she recalled another time Angel had been so resigned to his own actions. ~Look, I'm weak. I've never been anything else. It's not the demon in me that needs killing, Buffy. It's the man. ~ It made things all so simple.

Spike was pretty much William… a good, decent man… without the moment-to-moment sense of insecurity and the bravado forged by time and circumstances. He was an elegant amalgam of evil since dampened, gentility and passion. No split personality for him – all that he had been and all that he will be was claimed and accepted.

And oh, how it all rammed home now! What had been niggling at her since she first arrived. The differences between the Angel she knew and what he’d become. What couldn’t be filtered through her maturity and experiences. This Angel was much more like Spike – more of a whole person. Only the person underneath it all was a self-serving, petty and vindictive man. Merge him with the demon and it was easy to see how he could justify the things he’d done.

She shook her head. “I knew that this whole Wolfram & Hart thing was a disaster from the start. You were a better vampire than you were a man, Liam. I can hardly see the Angel I used to know.” She turned her back on Angel, and sat down next to Spike on the sofa, deeply affected by what had come to light.

“Well, Wonder Midget might be done, but I ain’t. Lorne and me found out where you sold Spike… what they did to him there. You knew damned well you didn’t expect him to survive long. Question is… did you know what they were gonna do?”

“Yes, Angel.” Wesley was deeply curious as to how much of Spike’s demise had been plotted. “Do tell us what Dante’s had to offer that made you turn to them as a disposal-all for your unwanted family.”

“Dante’s had a rep for holding demon cock-fights. The strong triumph over the weak. Best of all, if one is targeted, they keep on fighting until he’s gone.” Angel smirked. “The idiot was so proud of his reputation, I knew it would be the very thing to ensure his swift demise. A second souled vampire, well known for betraying his own kind and working wth the Slayer? They were gonna line up for miles to be the one to take him out.”

A small scuffle broke out in the back of the room, followed by a muffled “Bloody tosser.” It took both Buffy and Lorne to restrain the furious vampire from attempting to fight a battle he was only going to lose.

Wesley gasped. He was utterly appalled that Angel – Angel - could be so cold blooded as to send Spike out to be murdered for no other reason than he hadn’t wanted to sully his own hands.

“You think that’s something, English?” Gunn was incensed. Something so simple as a fight to the death scenario? Nuh uh – they were gonna know the truth. “Demon fighting is only a secondary offering at Dante’s. Their spotlight attraction is fronting for a demon whorehouse. Forced prostitution.”

Spike shut his eyes tightly. He had known the revelations weren’t going to be pleasant, but it was affecting him far more than he’d ever admit. His recollections were generally hazy, but this was bringing things much closer to the surface. The urge to run was mounting in his veins, and he was just this close to begging someone to get him the hell out of there.

Then Buffy smiled at him. And Lorne rubbed his shoulders in a show of support. He could do this. He would do this. He was not ashamed. He was bloody well ticked off, and would see it through to the end.

“Oh, come on now, Charles,” Angel countered. “How bad can it be? Spike’s been gone for a year now, and he looks just fine – well, except for the whole not walking thing.”

“Fine, you bloody tosser?” Spike grated out between clenched teeth. “I've been free and clear of that soddin' place for almost five days - been gluttin’ on the best human money can buy... and I still can't stand for more'n a moment, and can't walk. I'm bruised and broken in places you'll never see again. This looks like fine to you?”

He struggled to stand, thankful for the added strength he’d gained from the blood. Assisted by Lorne, since it was obvious he was going to get up with or without the help, he shucked off his duster, pulling his shirt off over his head.

Spike trembled as he shook off Lorne's supportive hands. His torso was still deeply bruised, ugly patches of olive and plum making his pale skin look dirty. Black jeans slung low on slender hips, the inflamed scar from his navel piercing was striking. “Here’s fine for you,” he murmured.

All too soon, his knees buckled; his reserves gone. Gunn scooped him up from the floor, looking to Buffy and Lorne for guidance.

“I think our little party’s at an end, buckaroos. Looks like the kid’s reached his limits. I’ll meet you at the car, Charles. Just a little bit of unfinished business here.”

At the door, Spike asked the man to wait. Turning back towards Angel, he said. “You know, over the years I’d grown to hate you with a deep and abiding passion, as you did me. I was always yours to hate… until now. You set me free, and I publicly acknowledge that fact.”

As they exit the office, Lorne walked up to Angel’s desk, planting his hands on the broken halves. “You're no champion, bucko. You're a vindictive, petty, jealous bastard who hasn't grown a whit from the useless Irish sot he was as a mortal. I quit.

“And Angelcakes? Just so I make myself perfectly clear on this?” Lorne leaned in close to the elder vampire – and spat.

Harmony ran after the green-skinned demon, silently pleading with her eyes. He nodded, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and they headed towards the car.

Angel sighed as he watched them all go, one by one – listening to their condemnation. Only Wes and Buffy remained.

Wes cleared his throat quietly. “I’m going home, Angel. I need some time and distance on this whole matter.” With a final glance at a once trusted friend, Wes said, “I’ll call you when and if I decide to come back.”

Angel watched him go, then turned to glare at Buffy. “Happy now, Buffy? You came into town to start a new life with me, and ended up decimating mine.” Viciously, he started picking the splinters out of his hands. “So, any parting words of wisdom for me, Buff? Probably your last chance, since I doubt we’ll be traveling in the same social circles.”

Buffy shook her head, sadly. “I wish one day you’d understand how wrong your actions were, Angel. You were right all along – it was the man that needed killing after all.” And closed the door on another chapter in her life.Buffy

Oh God, it’s over. She’s really done it. Ended her teenaged fantasy of perfect romance once and for all. Turns out the handsome prince is really a toad.

Buffy sits on the bed, watching over an exhausted Spike as he slumbers, her hand gently stroking his sleep-lax face. So young and peaceful in repose, it’s easy to forget Spike’s century of murder and mayhem, she reminds herself.

Is he her future? One way or another, they’re tied together. They break and bleed for each other. She’s risked life and limb to rescue him – he’s died for her.

Come what may.



Spike

Exhaustion. Overwhelming inexorable bone-deep mind numbing fatigue keep his eyes closed. Spike knows she’s sitting with him. Her scent and her touch are sense memory for him. Just knowing she’s there allows him to relax.

His magnificent bitch Queen. Spike just knows he’s smiling. If she asks for a limb, he’ll willingly hand her the blade… because he knows , finally. In word and in deed she’s proven her feelings today. He matters – to her .

When he wakes up, he’ll thank her for putting him first. Gunn, Lorne, Harmony - supportive friends – novel for him. He could get used to this.



Lorne

He’s a lover, not a fighter. His motto since Pylea. So pray tell, how did he end up with two vampires, a Slayer and a street thug cum magically enhanced lawyer in his home?

Slayer and Vampire – an old tale, with a re-cast male lead. All the makings of a smash hit. Vampy little secretary. Ah well, he can always use an assistant no matter what he does next. Gunn? He’ll stay or go as he sees fit. No worries there.

They saved a soul and a life, but his heart breaks as it sings.

Busted trust and lost friendship.



Harmony

Oh God! What did she do? Is she nuts? Where the hell is she going to find another office job that operates on vampire time? And there’s the issue of her apartment and finding a source for blood and keeping up with the latest fashions… what’s a single vampiress to do?

Even without a soul, Harmony knew she did the right thing. She’s always been Sireless. Making her way in the world without help has been more than difficult. But if a Sire could do what Angel did to her Blondie Bear… maybe she’s been the lucky one all along.



Gunn

Man, why does it always boil down to taking sides? Bloods and Cryps, humans and vamps… Rodney King had the right of it. Why can’t they all just get along?

He’s so damned tired of fighting. Thought the law was the way out, finally. Yeah, demons for clients, but he was dealin.’ The law was resolute, until he pushed at it. Wasn’t bloody until Angel made it so.

He’ll never look at it in the same way again.

Not since Spike. To see him so trashed by the letter of the law. Vampire law. Bastards were as devious as humans.



Wes

Wes has a headache no mere analgesic will banish. How does one cope with finding out that the vampire he’s trusted with his life for more than five years has baldly lied about events from the past year?

It’s not the issue of Spike, per se. He doesn’t know him on a personal level. But he does… did know Angel – or so he thought. Side by side, fighting the good fight, even in the belly of the beast.

To be capable of murder by disassociation even with his soul and lying about it? How can he trust in Angel again?



Fred

Fred’s heard of the ruckus in Angel’s office over lunch in the Wolfram & Hart cafeteria. So much hostility and venom, she decided discretion was the better part of valor and tucked tail, hiding in her lab.

So confusing. Angel’s old girlfriend now has a new boyfriend, who was also a vampire who was once part of Angel’s family but who’s since been sold like an animal to the slaughter.

Spike had survived, just like she did in Pylea. Only met him once, for a few brief moments last year, but she tips her hat to him for his rescue.



Angel

Loss and betrayal rival an edged blade in their ability to cause pain, and awareness is a double edged sword. Angelus wielded these tools like a master.

Images of William laid out before him – held fast by chains and cuffs, hole torn and dripping with his Sire’s spendings. No hope of comfort. No desire for rescue. “Yours,” he says. “Always yours, you bastard.”

Held in Gunn’s arms – “You set me free – my own, now!”

Angel awakens with a scream, muffled by the fangs embedded in his lower lip.

And he wonders if he might have gone too far, after all.



Anya

Nobody knows she’s still around; still in existence. D’Hoffryn rescued her spirit from the Hellmouth just as her mortal body was pierced by the Turok-han’s blade. Back in the vengeance game with a… well… vengeance.

She’s happy now. No ties to the pathetic band of mortal children she’d been attached at the hip to. Xander will move on – maybe find himself a good man for a change. Willow, she’ll find her own way.

She hears a pained cry for justice… from Buffy? Against… Angel? Oh my God! Poor Spike. Hmph – about time she admitted her feelings for him.

Wish granted!


Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 17 – Thereby Hangs A Tale

Anya had granted Buffy’s wish of Justice for Spike. Fine. The problem was going to be… the execution of the wish. This particular vampire was a unique case and it was going to be a royal pain in the ass to arrange. The hoops she’d have to jump through to set this up… and the dangers.

And as for the dangers it presented to Spike… Hoo Boy, Buffy was not going to be a happy camper when she found out about the risk to Spike.

It was the specific wording of her wish that was the source of all the trouble. Buffy had said:

“I wish one day you’d understand how wrong your actions were, Angel.”

The problem? Everything Angel had done was proper according to demon laws. It’s where he sold him and for what end that was the subjective sticky part – the reason she was called.

So the question became how to reconcile both the legality and the morality – well, such as could be considered moral in the eyes of both Slayers and squabbling familial vampires.

Angel would be judged and punished according to the whims of the Tribunal judges.

Eventually.

The part Buffy was going to go ballistic over was that Spike would be judged, first. And, being Orderless – with nobody to speak on his behalf, or guarantee his future behavior – he could be summarily executed at the discretion of the Tribunal if found to be unworthy in the eyes of the Court.

Which didn’t exactly satisfy the Justice wish she’d made in the first place, and would probably entitle her to a second wish, which couldn’t bring back a yet again dusted Spike, which would equal a highly pissed off Slayer.

Oh poo! Some days it really didn’t pay to get out of bed.

There had to be something she could do to help the Slayer. For her to lose Spike at this stage of the game went against Anya’s romantic nature. Besides, between the two of them, Buffy and Spike had already died four times. Living happily ever after would be the best form of revenge against Angel.

The trick would be getting Spike through the Tribunal in one undusty piece.

Anya shook her head. Only a fucked up demonic legal system would have the victim on trial for his life, while the perpetrator would be let off the hook with a simple punishment. Determined to make things right, she teleported to the Tribunal’s home dimension, in the hopes of pleading clemency for Spike in advance.

~*~

Her arrival at Arashm’har left her shaken. She had tried to explain the extraordinary circumstances of William the Bloody. That he had been the wronged party and was not in need of judgement, but the Tribunal would not be swayed.

They had informed her that their system had been in place for millennia, and it would take more than a pretty little vengeance demon to shake things up. Spike would stand trial first, to be deemed worthy or not of seeking judgement against his erstwhile Sire. His execution would be swift and relatively painless if it came to that conclusion.

At least they called her pretty.

Doomed. Anya knew she should have ignored that cry for Justice from Buffy. Anything, anything relating to the Scoobies was bound to cause grief and heartache and was certainly going to ruin her standing with D’Hoffryn.

And her record had been really spotless since her return to the vengeance game.

As humble as her nature would allow, Anya approached the throne.

“Ahhhh, my lovely Anyanka.” The elder demon was in a good mood, even though he already knew the reasons for his girl’s appearance. “Tell me, my dear… to what do I owe this honor?”

“Can it, D’Hoffryn. That coy act hasn’t worked with me in centuries. I know that you know just why I’m here, so let’s get down to brass tacks already. You know there isn’t much time.”

He smiled – which did nothing to dispel the “no matter which way you go with this, you’re so fucked” vibe he gave off. “Good enough. You’re here to seek dispensation from granting this latest wish.” He sighed, shaking his head. “What is it with that lot of humanity that keeps you so tied to them? It never works out well for you in the end.”

Anya thought long and hard before she answered. “It’s true. They never really accepted me into their group. Ex-demon and all with my history, I suppose I should be grateful Buffy never attempted to slay me while I was human.” ~And so totally glossing right over that whole frat-boy incident ~

“It’s just… well, the only one who ever showed me real kindness, was Spike. Always on the periphery – never allowed in… and his body count was way less than mine. But as a soulless vampire, he held me when I was hurting, and made me feel like things weren’t all my fault. And the sex? Hell, you can’t beat a vampire when it comes to zero refractory time.”

She waved her hand in the air, dismissing that particular line of conversation. “Oh, c’mon, Hoffy! I’m not trying to wiggle out of anything. I owe Spike. A lot, if I can help it. And if Buffy’s actually going to champion his cause – I don’t want her wish for justice to leave her without the man she’s fighting for!”

This time D’Hoffryn’s smile was genuine, soft for his favorite vengeance demon. “You’re a remarkable girl, Anyanka. To care enough for a vampire and his erstwhile nemesis to risk my wrath again. I’ll tell you what, you go set up the vampires’ trial. The Cahair Binse is not known for their patience and I’m sure the Slayer needs to be forewarned. She has an annoying little tendency of slaying first, asking questions later and I believe she’s rather on edge at the moment.”

~*~

It had been a beautiful day. Blue sky, white fluffy clouds, green grass and yellow sun. Almost like living in a young child’s crayon drawing. Buffy was putting away the remnants of their picnic lunch, when she frowned. It wasn’t like him not to be there with her. He always stayed to do the cleanup.

Buffy looked up as a shadow fell across the blanket. “Hey, Anya. I guess that death thing didn't work out real well for you, either. Come sit with me,” she said, patting the pink blanket. “He’s not here for some reason. He’ll be sorry he missed you.”

“Death is overrated, you know.” Anya looked up at the gathering clouds. “And he needs tending to. Things go all willy-nilly without proper attention.”

“So,” Buffy sighed, “who brought you back? Was it Xander? I know he missed you.”

“I heard you had a bit of a vampire problem." Anya’s vengeance demon mask was firmly in place when she looked down.

“Not so much – it’s all right now. Saved the guy – dumped the dream.”

Anya looked dismayed. “But you have no flowers. You got the guy without the flowers… just thorns. Everything pricks at you.”

“What? Pricks? No.. no.. nuh uh. No pricks. Nothing pricks.”

“Now, now, Buffy,” the vengeance demon gentled, patting the Slayer on her knee. “Don’t be crude. I just meant there’s no peace. You saved the guy but the villain went free.”

Both women looked towards the darkening sky, which was now a roiling mass of blackened storm clouds as the rain began to fall.

Buffy’s lip quivered. Storms frightened her, and they were targets for lightning sitting out in the middle of nowhere. “Can you stop the rain, Anya? I mean… the parade’s gonna be canceled.”

“Sorry, no can do.” She smiled, sadly. “Into each life… blah, blah, blahdy, blah, blah – you know the drill.

“I do know someone who can build you a shelter. It’s small, but it's dangerous. It can burn you instead of protecting you. But once you're safe inside... the rain will stop, and the flowers will bloom - without thorns.”

Buffy looked down at her hands. “But I'm all brown thumbs! Gardening and me are non-mixy things.”

“You have to try, Buffy - every garden needs a little rain - and you don't get blooms without hard work. Trust in yourself. Risk the danger.” Anya clasped the Slayer’s shaking hands in her own. “Gather other gardeners - they'll help you weed out the danger.”

“But I don't know anyone else who likes the flowers I do.”

“It doesn't matter. With their experience, anything will bloom.”

“I really don't know how to take care of a garden,” Buffy cried, tears mixing with the falling rain. “I'll kill all the flowers.”

Taking pity on the sobbing girl, Anya handed over a small parcel wrapped in brown paper and twine. “Here, I'll give you the book - it'll be up to you to read it.”

A loud clap of thunder made Buffy jump, and she woke up screaming in her bed, sweat pouring from her body... a talisman clutched tightly in her hands.

“Oh fuck!”

~*~

“What was that? I don’t know if it’s the hour, or the long distance – but proper enunciation would go a long way in helping me understand you.”

Buffy gave Giles time to clean his glasses and put them back on his face. “I said – Angel is evil and all my plans have changed.”

“Yes, Buffy, I’m fairly sure I got that part… but I’m not senile, and I distinctly recall you saying something about Spike. Did your Slayer dream involve his death in any way?”

“I hope you’re sitting down, Giles,” she mumbled, “and have all the sharp and pointy things in another room. I said Spike is back. He popped back into Angel’s office a week after we left the country.”

“So, Spike’s back, you say? And he’s been back for a year, and Angel knew all about it?”

Buffy was amazed. He was being so calm about the revelation. “Yup, in unliving black and white.”

“Right, dear. And I’m the bloody Queen of England.”

Now that’s more like the reaction I expected. “Giles, I swear it. Spike’s been back for a year and that bastard never saw fit to tell anyone.”

Giles practically snorted his derision. “Look, Buffy – if what you say is true, and I do mean if it’s true… what makes you think he’d come flocking to you? He’s unchipped and free for the first time in nearly eight years… I’m sure he’d be off… “

“Oh, no! Don’t you dare go there again, Giles.” Gone was the nervous girl; Slayer to the fore. “Spike would have called me the moment he was back if he knew where I was. If he was capable of making a call. Don’t you dare belittle what he did for the world or for me.

“I thought you understood! We held a fucking memorial service for both Spike and Anya in England. You comforted me, told me at least he was at rest now.” Buffy was fuming. How dare he? “You really don’t have a bloody clue as to who or what Spike had become, or how much we relied on each other. You would have killed him and we all would be living in hell. Or dead!”

Lorne peeked his head into the room, the volume of Buffy’s yelling had reached Spike’s room, and both vampire and demon were concerned for the young woman.

“Hey, strudel. Everything all right? The walls upstairs were shaking in their supports, and we were getting worried you’d blow out your vocal chords.”

“You tell Spike I’m talking to Giles. I’ve had a Slayer dream, and if he ever gets his head out of his very British ass, there’s a whole lot of actual discussion that needs to take place. Spike’ll understand the reason for the yelling.” Before Lorne closed the door, Buffy said, “And I’m sorry for the Banshee level screams. I’ll try not to disturb anyone else.”

“No problem, sweet girl. Should I have Spike pick up the phone?”

Buffy’s eyes widened in horror, as she imagined the conversation between the two Brits. “God, no. I don’t think I could stand it right now.”

“It’s your call, bubbelah! Just bellow if you need me. I’m gonna go calm down cave vamp upstairs. I swear he’d fly down here to your rescue if he could.”

As soon as she was alone, Buffy lifted the receiver to her ear. “Giles, are you still there?”

“Well, either whoever else is in the house with you is delusional, or you were being truthful about Spike returning from the ashes. I-I’m sorry, Buffy. I know our opinions on Spike will never come to an accord, but the fact that he’s risen from the grave once again might have it’s bearings in prophesy.” Giles’ inherent Watcher had finally awakened. “Now that I am more fully alert, why don’t you tell me the full story of your visit to Los Angeles, William the Bloody’s return and your Slayer dream. Something tells me everything is tied up in one big Gordian knot.”