[A/N: I’ve been pulling my hair out and gnashing my teeth with this. I just can’t seem to get the words to come. I know a lot of you are waiting (very patiently I might add) for this and. . . gods, I’m so sorry about that. I wish I could just magically make it appear on my screen. Title is well, everyone’s said it forever, and no one really knows who first coined the phrase, so I’m not going to make the attempt, however the quotes are as attributed. The disclaimers are in full force and effect. I own nothing.]

Previously: The meeting with Jenner started; Willow shorted herself out; Angel’s not happy with Drusilla (or anything else for that matter) and this picks up shortly from the last.

Book Two. Fifty-Six. The enemy of my enemy

From this we learn
that a wise prince sees to it that never,
in order to attack someone,
does he become the ally of a prince
more powerful than himself,
except when necessity forces him
Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince

The trouble about being on the side of right,
as one sees it,
is that one often finds oneself in the company of such very questionable allies.
Separate Tables (1958)

If you are no longer his friend, what can you be but his enemy?
"I, Claudius", Cassius Chaerea




There were moments, brief instances of time when one’s life is defined, and all is looked at with complete clarity. And there are other moments when instead of life that is given clarity it is ourselves. Rupert Giles had experienced both of those kinds of moments, enough to perhaps be aware of when another was approaching. He’d felt like he was on the brink of one or another for the past few days. Oddly enough, he realized, standing in his own shop, this time the moment was not his. He was just there to witness it, to watch it all unfold. As a Watcher, it made perfect sense

So perhaps this was, after all, one of his moments.

The moment – such as it was – belonged to two beings; one of which he’d come to trust almost implicitly. The other was an unknown factor, someone he hadn’t known personally until, well, this moment.

Yet their fates, quite possibly, rested on the formidable shoulders of one Jenner, master vampire of the line of Aurelius. He wondered, not for the first time, if any of them, other than Spike had ever made the connection – they were of the house of the Golden Ones. Could it be another reason why more of them had been drawn to the Chosen ones over the centuries?

Giles was abruptly shaken from his musings by a sharp exclamation from Jenner, halting the female vampire’s agitation. Mentally shaking his head at his own distraction, he refocused on the situation.

It took him more than a few seconds to realize Glynnis was reacting to something Jenner had said in response to Spike’s last question. Whatever it was, she was not reacting favorably and looked to be disagreeing and rebelling against whatever Jenner had decided. Which boded well for them.

Bugger it, Rupert, you’ve lost the plot.

Judging by the looks of relief on various faces throughout the room, he was more than certain the decision had been made.

Spike’s voice was low and full of menace, his ire directed solely at the female. ‘I’m not askin’ any of you to fight with us, just to stand down and remain neutral.“

“And that’s all I’m willing to agree to, for the moment.” Jenner’s stance didn’t change, but everyone could feel his patience seeping away with every little snarl erupting from Glynnis’ mouth. “We are done here, William.”

“That we are.” Spike nodded his head once, watching with hooded eyes as the vampires filed from the shop. “Jenner.”

He was up the steps and at the doorway before Jenner turned around to respond. Rupert strained forward to hear what they were now discussing, but aside from the tones, he couldn’t hear any words, nor discover their moods. The two spoke briefly, then Jenner nodded once, closing the door behind him.

Giles peered over his glasses as Spike bounced down the steps, his posture a mix between satisfied and exhausted. With a glance over at Lawson, Spike said, “Well, that’s done.”

“So you got what you aimed for?” Lawson was the only one to speak, the others already knowing what Spike had been trying to accomplish.

“Did. Now we need to come up with a plan for Angelus.”

“Spike?” When he reacted to her calling his name, Buffy’s eyes shifted toward Lawson and he nodded once, understanding her clearly.

“Right, first things first. Lawson, need a word with you.” He motioned the other vampire toward the training room, closing the door behind them.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Buffy watched the two vampires go, her mind whirling with the possibilities of what exactly Spike was planning on doing to ensure Lawson’s loyalty. While she didn’t think it required a ritual bloodletting, it wasn’t necessarily something she could completely rule out either. Forcing thoughts of what could be taking place behind closed doors from her mind, Buffy focused her attention on the other problem facing them.

“Okay so what do we think Willow’s gonna do?”

Giles shook his head, reaching for his glasses unconsciously. When both Buffy and Faith cleared their throats, he checked his hand and smoothed down his hair instead. The girls shared brief giggles, but Faith’s question forestalled any further merriment.

“Is she really all that powerful?”

It was Wesley who answered, and the grim tone of his voice gave his statements weight. “Given the magnitude of the spell you broke, and the act of resurrecting Buffy, should make us wary of the extent of Willow’s powers. It is entirely possible her abilities exceed her . . . .” His voice trailed off for a moment, and then Giles spoke.

“Her sense. I’m quite certain Willow is unaware of the extent of her own powers. Nor is she aware of her own hubris in exercising said powers. What she did with that last spell reeks of an inability to comprehend that the people around her are actually real. She’s,” he paused, obviously trying to find the words to describe how far Willow had drifted from reality. “She has begun to view herself as the only one capable of orchestrating the lives around her. Willow is not allowing anyone to exercise their own free will.”

“Which is a bad thing.” Faith wasn’t making the connection Giles was trying to make for all of them.

“Her behavior is like that of a puppeteer, pulling the strings and attempting to control the action of those she deems inferior in some way or incapable of making their own decisions. Obviously she views Buffy in that group.”

With that, Buffy picked up her head, staring off into space for a moment. She then spoke, almost idly, “Because of Spike. She’s angry with me because she thinks I chose Spike instead of her. And Tara thinks . . . . Tara thinks Willow’s not going to stop either, until she fixes things the way she thinks they should be.”

“So the short answer to your question Faith, is yes, she really is that powerful.” Wesley moved from the counter to sit in the chair Spike vacated earlier. “There might be a way to shield you and Tara from the effects of any further spellcasting Willow might attempt, at least temporarily.”

“Why just me and Tara?” Buffy sat down opposite Wesley, her eyes following his hands as he flipped through some of the books on the table.

“Tara seems an obvious target, given their former relationship. And in your case, there are two reasons.” Faith drifted toward the table also, listening closely.

“Which are?”

“She is angry with you. Since you stated so yourself, I’m going to take that into account. And, Buffy, given your condition, I think it wise to use whatever means at our disposal to protect you.” Giles dropped his hand onto her shoulder, lending her support and strength.

“Is that even gonna be possible?” Reaching some inner decision, Buffy looked from Giles to Wesley, drawing in a calming breath before she spoke. “I don’t think I wanna rely on magical means to keep us safe. No, before you say anything, hear me out.”

She raised her hands, then fisted them and ticked off her reasons one by one. “It’s just another way to get to us, should the magic fail. We’d be more vulnerable if it’s broken than before. Skirt-girl can take regular patrols with one of you once I get too big to go out. Hopefully we won’t have to worry about her for that long, because I’m not loving the whole let’s make Buffy Willow’s doll to play with.” She huffed a bit, ignoring Faith’s growing confusion over the turn the conversation had taken. “Besides, Spike is right. There’s always consequences when you use magic. Not so sure I wanna take the chances with itty-bitty Buffy.”

Silence filled the Magic Box until Faith’s brain caught up with the discussion. ‘Itty-bitty Buffy? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ah. Yeah. . . . um.” Even the blush blooming on Buffy’s face didn’t help Faith and she looked from one to the other, asking, “What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Whoa. No shit.” She stared at the blond Slayer, confusion writ large on her features. “So who’s the daddy?”

When all she got back were pointed stares and varying degrees of ‘duh’, Faith started laughing. “No way. Vamps can’t do that.”

Her laughter died quickly once she realized no one was joining her and she lost her smile when Giles began speaking.

“While normally I would have to agree with you, in the course of researching Connor’s birth, I uncovered an interesting twist. While I was searching for answers about how it was possible for Darla to conceive, I discovered other examples of the phenomenon. What it boils down to is any returned from the dead potential or Slayer and any Aurelian male master vampire have the potential to create life. Only given those circumstances can a vampire procreate.”

Faith’s mouth had dropped open, her eyes grown wider by the word and she stood completely motionless.

“So. . . . Holy shit.” Opening and closing her mouth a couple of times, Faith struggled to find her composure. Inhaling deeply, she leaned heavily on the table. “So in addition to dealing with being brought back, Buffy has to worry about another kid?”

Snaking a glance at her counterpart, Faith arched an eyebrow. “You okay with this B?”

A sly grin, very reminiscent of Spike’s crossed her features and Buffy nodded, “Kinda had an idea this might happen once Giles dropped the bomb. Timing isn’t perfect, but we can deal.”

With her words, Faith slumped into one of the chairs. “Girl goes away for a couple of years and everything gets freaky.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Watching the girls with a suspicious eye, Xander realized two things and he wasn’t sure if he liked either thought. Tara was a hell of a witch, something that made him a bit uncomfortable, because he’d only noticed it since she split from Willow. The second item disturbed him a bit more, though he wasn’t about to admit it to anyone but himself, especially since it concerned his own girlfriend, well fiancé. . . . . . she was scary. Scary as in nightmare scary.

Anya was currently doing things he didn’t . . . . Stepping outside his comfort zone wasn’t something Xander liked doing. Demons were bad – all of them – and none of them were worth saving. He’d barely made an exception for Angel and that was because of Buffy. Anya was no longer a demon. . . . Or so he thought, hoped. Watching her now, though, he wasn’t entirely sure. Okay so she wasn’t all veiny, but there was something . . . other about her that set the hairs on the back of his neck on alert.

Maybe he’d made a mistake, asking her to marry him all those months ago. He wasn’t sure. . . . he just didn’t know anymore.

Lately, though, he wasn’t sure of anything. His best friend was all strange and strung out, going on crazy weird power trips; his girlfriend wasn’t acting much better. Angel, who was supposed to be one of the good guys had gone back to slaughter and done unspeakable things to Cordelia, while Spike was all Mr. Goodguy.

Xander didn’t like all this topsy-turvyness. Didn’t like being off balance all the time. And he certainly wasn’t happy with all this magic.

The two girls were sitting inside a circle they’d marked with chalk and then sealed with sand, a bunch of crystals around them. While he’d been thinking, the two had started chanting, and now, as their voices picked up in both speed and volume, several of the crystals sparked, light flaring and sparkling.

Oz shifted and Xander looked at him. He would have thought Oz would be wigged like him, and he was surprised when he just smiled slightly. “Watching this is cool.”

Okay, I guess he’s not wigged at all. “Uh. Not sure I follow you.” Xander turned to face the werewolf. “And how come you’re talking?”

“Got unwired earlier.” Oz opened his mouth to show Xander, then said, “It’s all about the girl power.”

“Huh. Okay.” He didn’t get what Oz was talking about. Not at all.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The hall was quiet, not even the soundless breathing of hundreds of otherworldy beings enough to penetrate the encompassing silence. This was not a moment to savor, nor was it a reason to be pleased by his lord’s summons. Wary dark eyes focused on the spot just below his lord’s chair. The utter failure to apprehend the betrayer had resulted in a summons to appear before his master. Even the hounds were subdued, only the two alphas bold enough to remain on their feet beside him.

A voice deeper than time echoed through the hall. “You failed. Judgment is required, a reckoning is long overdue. The betrayer must be retrieved. Do not fail in this. The Chosen One must be protected.”

Bowing his head in further deference, the Huntsman waited for the final pronouncement from the Lord of the Underworld.

“Do not fail in this task. The betrayer must be taken.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“Right then.” Spike closed the door behind them, his eyes focused intently on Lawson’s impassive features. “Need to suss out where you stand.”

The younger vampire watched him, unflinching from Spike’s intent gaze. “Thought that was beginning to be obvious.”

“Obvious p’rhaps, but I need to know you aren’t ‘bout to turn round an’ sell us out to Angelus.” Spike started pacing, walking the length of the training room, his brain coming up with and discarding various ways of ensuring Lawson’s loyalty. “Can’t take any risks right now. We’ve no room for mistakes at all.”

Lawson stayed motionless and silent, knowing instinctively Spike would accept no suggestions from him. Spike was still pacing back and forth, almost ignoring Sam’s presence. He could hear soft muttering as the older vampire continued to talk to himself.

“Lawson.” Spike whirled around, a decision apparently reached. “I’m gonna ask you to swear fealty to me an’ mine.”

“Chief. . . . “ Sam finally spoke, wary of inciting Spike’s wrath. “I have no loyalty to Angelus. He sired me, then left me to die, didn’t care one way or the other about me. So I’m not all that broken up about this.”

Their eyes locked and Spike said, “This requires more than just your promise.”

“Kind of figured that. What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t expect you to understand or even know blood rituals, an’ what happens. You aren’t a minion, since you rose so fast, ‘m thinking Angelus gave you almost enough to make you a childe. . . . but not enough.” He finally paused in his pacing, leaning against the brick wall, his gaze focused on something in the distance.

“That’s right, I don’t know about rituals or any of the traditional things about vampires. Don’t know about. . . . whatever I learned about being a vampire I learned from you. I trust you. Don’t have any reason not to.” Sam shook his head, watching Spike with a slightly wary eye. He meant what he’d said, he just didn’t know how the other vampire would react to the knowledge he was basically Sam’s sire.

Apparently, though, Spike reached the conclusion on his own or was just facing the fact, because a low chuckle filled the air. “Yeah. Knew that. . . . Angelus shirked his duties there, but ‘m thinking he never intended for you to survive this long.” Making a decision, Spike moved away from the wall, shrugging out of the duster as he did. “There’s two ways we could do this. First is . . . Although there’s a bit of a problem since I doubt my lady would approve and I’m not looking to shag you into submission.”

Sam actually shied back, not so much out of disgust, but more out of fear what the Slayer would do if Spike actually chose that route. Catching a glimpse of Sam’s reaction, Spike’s chuckle got louder. “Not gonna happen. There is another way. Could just have you give in an’ say somethin’ profound about you accepting my authority as your sire.” A wide grin split his features then and he continued, “Unless you want me to beat you senseless and then we do all the mumbo-jumbo.”

“That kind of defeats the purpose of making me stronger though, doesn’t it?” Sam again pointed out the obvious, while Spike shook his head in agreement.

“So we forego the beatin’ and just move forward to the symbolic.” Spike cocked his head to the side, thinking deeply. “You sure you’re okay with all this?”

Somehow, Sam knew Spike wasn’t looking for a quick or easy answer from him and he’d thought he explained it all earlier, and right at this moment, Spike was giving him a way to back out gracefully, with no loss of his pride. But this wasn’t about pride, or dignity or anything else other than a sense of home, of belonging to something or someone and that he wasn’t alone any longer. Sam had been alone, save for one-night stands since his turning. . . nearly sixty years. Too damn long to be alone.

“I’m fine. I . . . I’ve been trying to figure out why, all these years. Why me? Why was I on that ship and what was so damned important they sent a vampire to retrieve it? What was the whole point of bringing in Angel and. . . . How come I managed to survive? The only answers I’ve ever gotten to any of those questions. . . . Well, I knew why I was on that ship, why I was fighting the Nazis, but everything else?” Sam looked away, defeat and despair evident in every line of his muscles. “The only answers I ever got were from you. And no offense, even they weren’t enough.”

If Spike had any question in his mind that some part of Lawson’s humanity had survived his turning, it was effectively squashed by his last words. He wouldn’t term it a soul, because he knew demons possessed a twisted version of a soul, but there was something decidedly different about Sam Lawson, something setting him apart from damned near every other vampire out there. It was enough to cement his decision to give Lawson a chance to work on their side, enough to trust he wouldn’t betray them at the first, or even second, opportunity that presented itself. At least this way, the others would also have some reassurance, something more than just Spike’s word about Lawson’s intentions. Even with Giles’ trust in him, he didn’t for one minute believe that trust would extend to another vampire.

“So we’re good then.” Spike stood in front of the taller man, tension filling his frame. This was a step he’d never planned on taking, especially after what he’d done, the first and only time he’d sired someone. Doubts flooded him, although he knew, intellectually, Lawson had already been sired and the change had already occurred; more than likely no other changes would transpire. And he was giving himself a headache by worrying about it. Inhaling deeply, pushing aside his momentary doubts, Spike stared at Sam, taking his measure. “You ready?”

“Aye-aye, Chief.” There was a twinkle in Lawson’s eye and Spike was hard pressed not to laugh out loud. The gravity of the situation, though, kept his grin from erupting and he shook his head.

“Knock that off.”

Spike was about to start speaking again when he heard the door snick open behind him and without having to turn around, knew who slid into the room. Her natural perfume swamped his senses and he turned his head to look over his shoulder to glance at her. Buffy was just closing the door, a mischievous look on her face, and he couldn’t stop his own grin from answering hers.

“Hey.” Gracefully, almost gliding across the floor, Buffy crossed the distance between them, her hand catching Spike’s when she reached his side.

“Hullo, love. Everything all sussed out with the watchers?” Ignoring Lawson for the moment, Spike turned his considerable attention to Buffy.

“Yup. We’re all good. Faith is all up to speed, she’s got the 411 pretty much on everything.” Spike brought her hand up, laying a gentle kiss on the back. “How’s things in here?”

“Jus’ getting to the good part.” He smirked at her, then simultaneously they faced the other vampire.

“So tell me what you’ve decided.”

“Lawson’s gonna submit to my claim as his sire an’ gonna swear to abide by my rights as his sire.” An almost imperceptible shrug crossed Spike’s shoulders. “There’s lots of formal words we could use, could even translate the whole thing into Latin, but there’s no need. He’s willing an’ that’s all the requirement I need.”

“How do you. . . what do you have to do?”

Spike looked a bit sheepish, which Buffy found both strange and endearing. He hesitated, searching for the right words. His voice was low and melodic when he finally started speaking and Buffy found herself dangerously close to getting lost in the sounds, ignoring the words. His, “pay attention love,” brought her out of the accidental reverie. He could so market meditation tapes. Or read books for a living.

“Tell me again, just to be sure I get it.”

Spike rolled his eyes, knowing full well she’d hadn’t heard a word of the explanation he’d just given her.

“I bite Sam. Ask him if he’s submitting to my position as his Sire. He submits. I drain him, or nearly so, then let him bite me.” He paused, watching the play of emotions on her face. “Him taking Sire’s blood will make him stronger.”

“You’re okay with this?” Buffy looked up at the other vampire, strangely feeling concern for him. Being drained, even for a vampire couldn’t be much fun.

Lawson nodded once without any hesitation at all.

“Have we got any human blood in the fridge?” Spike asked her, rapidly going over their supplies in his head. Directing his next comments to both of his companions, he said, “We’ll need to have plenty on hand, b’cause he’ll be hungry when we’re all done.”

Buffy wandered over to the fridge, checking the on-hand supply. “Four bags of O positive and three frozen bags of AB negative.”

“The O positive should be enough.” Spike faced Lawson, “You sure?”

This time, when Lawson nodded, saying, “Yes sir.” Spike let it go.

“Right. Here goes nothing.”

Without looking at Buffy, Spike stepped forward, his hands firmly around Lawson’s biceps. Exerting a fair amount of pressure, Spike forced the taller vampire to his knees, murmuring softly under his breath. He spoke first in Latin, then knowing the other two had no comprehension of the language, he repeated himself in English.

“Do you accept my position as your Sire? Do you accept my authority as your Master, replacing your original Sire?” He stared down into Sam’s eyes, waiting for his acquiescence. Spike morphed into game face, preparing to complete the blood rite.

Sam’s response was strong and sure, consisting of one word. Spike’s head was angled, fangs embedded in his throat before the sound of Lawson’s “Yes” had died away.



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