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 2.05
Tuesday, May 14th, 2002

"Look. We can climb to the top of that pointy bit there and then maybe we'll get a signal."

"Buffy, you are not bloody climbing that without a rope or anything," Spike retorted, looking at the near vertical rock face.

Buffy responded by poking him on his right side. "And you're going to go?"

Spike flinched visibly. "Bitch."

"Answer the question. You really think you're in a fit condition to go climbing cliffs, but I'm not," she pushed him.

"Yes, I do. It's a vamp thing. It's what we do. It won't take a bloody minute."

"You really think there's anything that you can do in that condition that I can't match?"

"I can still get a hard on. Like to see you try that one, princess."

"Em, guys? And can I say ew?" Willow interrupted.

"What?" both the blondes snapped.

"Discussion kinda redundant." Willow let her gaze swivel from the bickering pair to the top of the peak. Buffy and Spike turned to see what she was looking at. Framed against the full moon, coat billowing in the wind, Angel stood with his cell phone against his ear.

"See. I told you it was a vamp thing. I could have been up there by now if it wasn't for you arguing," Spike insisted.

Buffy merely rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, right. Can't think of an argument, just go for the eye roll. Thought you were a bit more adult than the Bit. Seems I was mistaken," Spike taunted.

"Seems to me like, right about now, neither one of you would be winning any prizes for maturity, and seeing as how one of you is over a hundred as near as Angel's sayin', that's quite an achievement," Gunn commented.

"Just because I managed not to turn into some brooding stick in the mud with a penchant for Barry Manilow, there's no need to snipe. I'll have you know I pride myself on my youthful outlook," Spike replied.

Buffy wrinkled her nose and looked up to where Angel was still posed heroically. "Barry Manilow? Really?"

"What? Don't tell me you burnt his albums, too, love?" Spike teased.

"He never had any, least not that I saw," Buffy began before Spike joined in, "but then you wouldn't let anyone see your Barry Manilow records."

"Even Rupert had better taste than that. Speaking of Rupert, have you talked to his Right Royal Poofiness about the wedding?" Spike asked.

"Do I hafta?" Buffy stuck out her lower lip.

"Course not, not if you don't want to." Spike turned to where Angel was still apparently talking on the phone. "Hoi! Mate!" Before he could get any further, Buffy administered a sharp elbow in his solar plexus.

Spike sucked in a sharp breath, and then continued as if he'd had no intention of saying anything either rude or tactless at all. "Are you gettin' a decent signal up there?"

Angel gave those waiting below a thumbs up sign. "Tara and Wes came up with the co-ordinates. We've got a precise grid reference." Angel rattled off the numbers, rather perturbed when Spike rattled off the last four along with him.

"Right where I told you lot it was in the first place. But no , certain soulful vampires, who shall remain nameless, wouldn't believe me, would they?"

 

---

 

Lorne listened to the sound of the helicopter, unable to overcome his disappointment, as the noise grew fainter. In the cellar, the first flames sprang to wavering life. At this stage, the fire could still be smothered with a blanket, or just possibly put out with their carefully hoarded water. It had yet to reach either the bottles and casks of spirits or the canisters of gasoline.

"Okay, people. Sounds like we've missed our chance for now, but if that's who I think it is, they'll be back. For now, we'd best keep on checking this place out." Lorne took charge again, heading back downstairs. "Is there anywhere we haven't looked yet?"

"There's a door in the kitchen that won't open, but I figure it's probably a meat locker or something like that," their chef replied.

"Let's see what our light-fingered friend can make of it," Lorne replied.

The girl in question made her way downstairs and into the kitchen area under the rooms on the upper level. "You really think that was someone looking for us?" she asked Lorne as she drew level with him.

"Well, I'm reliably informed that some acquaintances of mine, including the guy that I was sharing a room with, managed to borrow a helicopter."

The two made their way over to the door their culinary expert indicated. The girl ducked slightly to get a look at the lock before she shook her head.

"I don't think I can get this one. You're going to have to break it in if you're determined to get in there," she told the anagogic demon.

"There's an empty gas cylinder under the bench there," the kid who had been busy in the kitchen offered. "I could have a go with that."

Lorne stepped out of the way as the boy picked up the cylinder in question and began to rhythmically pound the area of the door where the lock was situated. Making a joke of the lack of effect his efforts were having, the kid began to sing in time to the pounding of the cylinder against the door.

"I've been working on the-." The kid never got as far as railroad. Everything happened at once. The doorframe finally split so that the door to the cellar swung open. Lorne knocked the kid to the ground with a flying tackle and the oxygen-deprived conflagration that had flickered and smouldered fitfully, roared into life, sending a ball of flame over the heads of both Lorne and the boy. As soon as the first ball of flame passed overhead, the green demon grabbed at both kids.

"Run." He pushed them toward the main room. He pulled the kitchen door shut behind them just as the first gasoline can exploded. The first explosion was immediately followed by a second louder one, as the rest of the accelerants detonated. The whole cabin shuddered from the concussion.

Lorne made his way to the front door while the other two raised the alarm. Not that even those upstairs could have missed that something was wrong, but the cries of, "fire," left them in little doubt as to the nature of their emergency. Pulling the front door open, Lorne found himself on the wrong side of some seriously heavy duty, steel shutters. There was no way to get at the locks from this side. Lorne frantically scanned the room for anything he might be able to use to pry up the shutters before his gaze alighted on the fireside set.

Rushing over he grabbed the poker and managed to jam it into the gap under the shutters. As he tried to lever the shutters upward, however, the metal bar simply bent in his hands. Yanking it free and throwing it to the ground in exasperation, he turned to find all six teenagers watching him.

"What now?" the bravest of them asked.

"Now we stay as far away from that side of the room and as low as we can and hope that whoever was in that helicopter comes back to check on the bonfire," Lorne told them with a sigh of resignation. He didn't want to mention that since the room under them was already ablaze, there might be a limit to how long they could stay where they were.

Lorne pulled the phone from his pocket again. He cut in before Fred could get any farther than "Angel."

"Fred? The cabin is on fire. We're trapped-." The line went dead, and when Lorne looked down, he saw that the display was now blank.

 

---

 

"I can do that trance to see spells. You know. The one you did when you thought someone might be using magic to make your mum ill," Willow insisted. "That way I can see what's really there and guide them in."

"Don't you need candles and magic sand and stuff?" Buffy asked.

"Normally, and it would be easier, but I'm pretty certain I can work round it with a bit of time to prepare. And it looks like we've got time." She indicated the two pilots who were using an old hand pump to transfer the fuel from the barrels they had brought into the helicopters fuel tank.

"That works fine in theory, Red," Spike countered. "Only I doubt we can persuade the nice people to believe you when what they can see tells them they're about to hit a tree. And in their position, I can't say that I would blame them."

"Well, I'm sure if I concentrate, I can get them to see what I'm seeing."

"Bollocks to that! I'm sorry, Red, but your track record isn't exactly spotless, and I'm not having you mucking around in the head of the people we're relying on to fly that thing. What happens if they forget how?"

"I haven't done anything wrong in a long time. Well, nothing major."

"So you didn't wipe everybody's memories a month or two back?"

"Well, yes, there was that, but that wasn't my fault. The whole bag burned. If that bit hadn't fallen and landed on the hearth everything would have been fine," Willow argued.

"Yeah, well, whatever went wrong this time probably wouldn't be your fault either. If you muck around with that stuff, you have to take responsibility for whatever happens, not just stand around expecting everyone to pat you on the back whenever you do something right." Spike's voice rose in anger.

"Anyway, who says you have a right to criticise? I'm not the one who turned Buffy into a zombie, am I?" Willow countered.

"And I admit I was wrong. Given the way things turned out, I can't even say I'm sorry, but I'd never willingly put Buffy at risk again. And that's why you're not mucking around in those bloke's heads."

Spike sighed and ran his hand through his currently unkempt curls. "It's not like you need to anyway," he announced in a far softer voice.

Willow responded in like tone. "Why?"

"Cause there's a rope ladder in the back of that thing. We don't have to get them to land, just hover close enough for us to go down."

"You'd rather dangle in mid-air on some stupid rope ladder than trust my magic?" the witch asked, astounded.

"I'd rather dangle in mid-air on a rope ladder than trust anyone's magic. I'd rather dangle in mid-air on a rope ladder over a stack of scrap lumber- no, make that burning scrap lumber before I trust your magic." Spike folded his arms at the end of his piece in a gesture that said, "So there," as plainly in the language of the playground as if he'd said the words.

"You had to open your big mouth, didn't you, boy?" Angel looked out from his vantage point into the middle distance where a dark column of smoke could be seen rising into the air.

For an instant all eyes were fixed on the rising plume. "I guess we better volunteer for pumping duty." Spike was the first to react and edge one of the apparently older men out of the way. Angel jumped from the peak to land on the far side of the outcropping of rock so that the pilots wouldn't be able to see. Within seconds he took up a position opposite Spike, and Buffy ducked between her fiancé's arms to add her strength to the effort. The pump began to move with a speed the pilots found hard to believe.

Willow steered them toward the pilot's compartment. "I think we know where we want to go, now. Maybe you can do all your pre-flight checks and stuff while they finish up with the fuel. Just tell us where you put the petrol cap."

In what was really only a few minutes but seemed far longer, the chopper was ready to go, and the pilots had radioed in a fire alert to the local emergency services.

"You guys know we can't go near that fire, right?" the pilot said as soon as the combined Sunnydale/AI crew began to pile into the machine. This time the pilots didn't wait for everyone to belt themselves in.

"We know," Angel and Spike both confirmed. "Just get as close as you can, and we'll do the rest," the blond told them.

"Am I missing something?" Buffy asked.

"Ash," Spike answered by way of clarification. "If it clogs the air intakes, no more engine. No more engine, and there isn't really such a thing as a controlled crash landing for a helicopter."

"Oh. So, I guess we don't want the helicopter to go near the fire, then," Buffy concurred as the aircraft lifted off once more. "That rope ladder's starting to look pretty good. So who goes in?"

"I think we're going to need all the muscle we can get to open those shutters, pet."

"Or one witch," Willow answered.

"Past comments not withstanding, I'm willing to listen if you've got a plan."

"These shutters are like shop shutters, right? If the locks weren't a problem, you could just push them up?" Willow waited till Spike nodded in confirmation before continuing. "I know this spell. I can't do the whole door, but I can make the areas where the locks are really brittle. One slayer kick, no more locks."

"Okay, Tabitha. You're first down, once we're in position. As soon as we're holding steady, we'll lower the ladder with you on it, so all you have to do is step off at the bottom. Then the rest of us will follow you down. Don't wait for us unless you hit a problem. Just go do your mojo on those locks and get clear. For now, best get trancy and see where we really are, 'cause I don't fancy steppin' off that ladder into thin air."

"And who put you in charge?" Buffy demanded of the blond vampire.

"D'you have a problem with the plan?" Spike asked.

"If I did have, you would know by now. I do have one modification, though."

"And what's that?"

"As long as Gunn doesn't have a problem with heights." The demon hunter shook his head. ".You might as well lower me and Willow together. That way there's more weight on the ladder. It shouldn't swing about so much, and I'm there ready to do the kicking as soon as Will does her spell."

"If I asked you to promise to be careful, it wouldn't do any good would it?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Probably not," she admitted looking up into his dangerously expressive eyes.

"Then all I'll say is think twice before you go rushing into a burning building. Remember, way more people die from smoke inhalation than from being burned, and you've got two people backing you up who don't inhale. Okay?" He reached up to smooth away a stray strand of hair, even though in the downdraft cause by the propeller blades such an action was patently pointless.

Buffy acknowledged the waves of acceptance and support that accompanied the love and concern conveyed in his touch. "I won't forget," she whispered.

The helicopter began to move forwards, and the change in momentum had Spike grabbing for the helicopter's framework with one hand and holding Buffy close with the other as she stumbled into him.

It was too good an opportunity to miss. Buffy grasped handfuls of the leather that covered his shoulders and tilted her head back, so her lips were only inches from his when he looked down to check she was okay. Spike watched transfixed, as her tongue darted out to moisten suddenly dry lips before he softly covered them with his own.

When several seconds of throat clearing failed to produce any effect, Willow was forced to tug on the couple's sleeves.

"Not that I want to intrude, but getting trancy, as you put it, is kind of easier if I have some floor to sit on." She let her gaze shift to the bench seating at either side of the aircraft and then back to the couple's feet planted squarely in the middle of the floor space.

The vampire grinned, mischief lighting his eyes. "You could have just said," he teased as he plonked himself down on the bench opposite Angel and Gunn and drew Buffy into his lap.