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

SECTION 5 - LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

He raised his son in the English way
And he taught him respect, he taught him how to pray
He sent him off to boarding school
Where he learned how to live by someone else's rules...

... It must be something much deeper than fear or pain
Another child learns the pattern, he won't break the chain

Fear of God and the feel of the rod will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod will raise a good boy
The fear of God and the feel of the rod will raise the next boy


(Rick Springfield Album - Living in Oz)




Chapter 5.11
Saturday, June 15th, 2002


Spike patted down his jeans pockets, a job that under other circumstances Buffy would have gladly undertaken for him. He pulled out his keys, used them to unlock the trunk and then tossed them to the elder watcher. Rummaging to one side, he removed several foot-long thick plastic strips from a brown paper sack. Splitting the bundle roughly in two, he passed half to Buffy, and the slayer split her share in turn to go half in each of the outer pockets of a long black leather coat that she had obviously stowed away in the trunk for emergency use. It wasn't the duster she habitually wore for patrol these days, but a thinner, more tailored version that Giles doubted would give the same protection, and the pockets weren't quite deep enough to stop the end of the sticks from peeking out, enough showing for Giles to realise that the rods were glow sticks of the type used by climbers or pot-holers.

The vampire passed over what Giles recognised from that dark summer as his favourite hand axe, in favour of one with a wider head, its handle longer than average for its weight in order to compensate for the way the end had been sharpened to a rough but serviceable point. Spike slid the haft between his swiftly loosened belt and his jeans so the head rested by his waist. Buffy lifted a shortsword and pulled it loose of its sheath, testing the edge of the blade and earning a raised eyebrow and a semi-glare from her fiancé that clearly said she should have known the weapon would have been oiled, sharpened and cared for. His long fingers wrapped around her wrist, and the impatience in his eyes turned to sensuality, the watchers all but forgotten. Buffy watched mesmerised while he raised the cut on the ball of her thumb to his lips, sucking it until her blood flushed any trace of oil from the wound and then licking over it as the flow slowed. With a final reverent brush of his lips he released her.

"No need to make that slayer healing work overtime, pet," Spike teased as he turned back to the trunk space, his voice only marginally huskier than normal.

Giles tried not to notice Buffy's equally obvious shiver before she hooked the sword's scabbard over her belt, making sure that the flared skirts of her coat would hide it from general view but that it would still be easily accessible. Spike tossed a couple of sharpened lengths of broom handle that had rolled into a corner in Buffy's general direction and she caught them easily in mid air, sliding them into the back pockets of her jeans with a couple of practised twirls, neither seeming to notice nor mind that the ends of the staves practically brushed against her shoulder blades. It took no more than a flick of the vamp's eyes to have the slayer rooting through a small vanity case, pulling out a two inch high diamanté cross on a long ribbon, which she wrapped around her neck. Spike took a pint-sized Newcastle Brown bottle from a crate which housed three more, but the glass bottle no longer bore a factory sealed cap, just a cork, and the movement of the liquid inside somehow suggested it wasn't holy water. He tilted the bottle in Buffy's direction as if in invitation but the slayer flashed the inside of her coat, showing that she had run out of storage capacity. The bottle slid instead into an inner pocket of the vampire's duster, but he still tested a couple of lighters from a box of about a dozen before passing them to Buffy and claiming two more for himself. Giles had seen similar models in his youth. The windproof Zippo-like flame suited the sort of situation where they might wish to light the liquid in that bottle from a distance while the more intense flame normally used for burning cannabis resin, if used up close, would hopefully allow it to be effective more quickly than Spike's Zippo had been when Giles had been being strangled by a 500lb vamp, even if it required the trigger to be held down.

There was no posturing, none of the testosterone induced rivalry of earlier in the evening, just simple efficiency and instinctive teamwork. Giles had never been more aware that his duty of care to his slayer had been usurped. If, most of the time, he might have wished she could have found a human lover, then as he watched them arm for war he couldn't help but be glad for the supernatural strength her partner loaned her... and if he felt satisfaction that Spike's love would lead him to defend her with unparalleled ferocity then he wasn't going to admit it, not to Buffy and certainly not to the insolent, trouble-making vamp.

---

"Okay, that brings us up to date on the research," Wes announced. "Lily, if you and Clem are going to be helping out with the translations, then I think it's time you all moved in. Oz, maybe in the morning you could help out with that?"

The werewolf nodded.

"As for direct action, I think it best we wait until we have more information, either from Spike and Buffy or from our research. Does anyone have any other issues they want to bring up?"

James looked around the room, waiting to see if anyone else had any further contributions or, in the case of the other Wyndam Pryce, any objections but, when no one else spoke, he took his chance. "Lydia has some notes here about placing wards around the school. She seems to have allocated several of the junior watchers to research a particular ritual but it appears we might need the help of the Wiccans from the college again."

"A lot of them have gone home for the summer vacation... I-ehm-a-after W-Willow I d-don't know how many would be willing to help," Tara seemed pained to admit, her gaze focused on her lap, and her hair shrouding her face. "Can't we do it with the council's magic users?"

James looked equally embarrassed. "It seems that a large proportion of the council mages would be ineligible to assist with the ritual. I'm afraid that many of our members have, at one point or another, chosen to fight fire with fire. The ritual relies on the purity of the casters to repel those of evil intent, not that the barriers would hold against a serious attack, but it might give us a warning. There are other possible spells but most of them would make life difficult for those amongst us who are other than human or they rely on barrier spells which could be draining to maintain and would almost mean placing everyone under house arrest."

Tara raised luminous eyes to meet those of the young watcher, not bothering to hide the grief that was once more at the surface even though her lips curved into a conspiratorial smile for her fellow magic user. "C-Can I have a look at her notes?" she enquired. "Maybe with Bee's help... And Rupert's," she added as the Siamese leapt from the adjacent armchair to land at her side, walk onto her lap, circle twice and curl up in a purring ball.

---

"So why aren't you complaining about missing your soccer?"

"Footie... Honestly?" Spike asked.

"Like I'm going to ask you to lie to me? Of course, honestly." Buffy stooped to lend a hand as Spike pried loose a manhole cover in a dark alley a couple of blocks from the hospital.

The vampire shrugged. "It's not like I've got any real attachment to either Sweden or Senegal, so it's not like I care, as such, what the result is, an' to be honest my money's on Brazil to beat Belgium tomorrow or whatever day that is..."

"And?" Buffy seemed puzzled.

Spike ran the words of his reply together, his voice directed at his feet. "And that'd mean we play them next an' it might be temptin' fate to be checkin' out the form for anyone as we'd be playin' after that." His head twisted to look at Buffy. "But don't dare tell the watcher I said that. As for the Ireland match, I'd normally cheer on anyone that was up against the bloody Paddies but Bit's lad might take that the wrong way, so if we don't make it back in time, it's no big deal."

"Do I even need to ask why you have such a dislike for the Irish? ...Apart from Brandon."

A shadow flitted across the blond's features. "Best just chalk it up to friendly rivalry... or unreasonable prejudice," he suggested, drawing his axe before he dropped into the gloom of the storm drain with a soft splash.

"Yours or Angel's?" Buffy asked as she followed him through the opening.

"How about both?" the vampire asked as he lifted Buffy enough for her to reach and drag the cover back into place.

Buffy let him get slightly ahead of her as they made their way down the tunnel, just a foot or so, but enough that he wouldn't see the shake of her head. No matter how much things changed some things remained the same.

---

The sounds of hammering echoed along the tunnels. They were close, too close for the sound to be caused by anyone other than The First's minions, and the pair chafed as they cautiously made their way onward despite the adrenaline in their system that had set off the martial element of their bond minutes before. The vampire suddenly pushed ahead of his fiancée and pulled a glow stick from his coat pocket, bending it to snap the crystals inside and holding it up to better illuminate the area where they were.

'I thought we were saving those for when we get into a fight?'

"I would, but I'm kinda attached to my-." Spike stopped and turned to face his companion. 'You didn't say that out loud, did you?'

'Ehm, no... And neither did you. Guess the claim's getting a little bit stronger.' Buffy's inner voice displayed a mixture of emotions at that idea, not all positive. 'But for now maybe you want to tell me why you're turning us into sitting ducks?'

Satisfied the immediate area was clear, Spike dropped the stick on the floor of the tunnel and activated another. 'Bringers can't see, anyway, leastways not in any way that we understand. Turok Han will smell us a mile off an' they're going to have the drop on you in the dark so we're not really losing any advantage unless that preacher guy's around... but the big decidin' factor is the eau de plastique. It's either a little close by or if it's up where the noise is comin' from then they've got enough to bring the whole place down on our heads. Either way, I like my limbs and other parts where they are, not to mention yours. 'Sides, if we have to beat a hasty retreat it'll be no bad thing to have the nearest manhole signposted.' His gaze travelled to the ladder at one side leading upward.

They turned a corner to find themselves at a large junction area. One of the tunnels had been blocked off with old pipes and furniture, some of which Buffy felt sure had been salvaged from the basement of the old high school. The hammering came from the other side of the barrier.

'Guess this is it, pet. Last chance to head on out an' grab one of the robey types up top?' he offered, already knowing the answer before Buffy started to climb her way over the debris.

'Get a move on, Randy,' the slayer teased, pausing to catch the vampire's eye as she swung one leg over the top of the barricade. 'It's not like mine is the only "gorgeous arse" around here, but you're not going to get to do anything about it until we get back to the school... And, yes, I am sure about that. We're too far in now for fun and games and we're going to be dragging a prisoner on the way back.' Answers came to thoughts Spike had barely been aware of having.

He threw the second glow stick over the blockade and almost quicker than Buffy could see was up and had followed it over and was waiting for her on the other side. 'We better get our guy an' get back quick or the zip on these jeans is goin' to rub me bloody raw then.'

'I didn't tell you to suck my thumb, you fangy lust bunny,' Buffy protested, as Spike bent yet another glow stick, once more taking the lead as he checked for tripwires or the like.

'Didn't seem like you were complaining, neither.'

'...And, if the chafing was bothering you as opposed to making you even hornier you'd tuck your shirt in.'

The tunnel rounded another corner and, though the hammering still came from further away, it was obvious they had found something significant. Spike quickly located the large box containing the explosives that had been taunting his nasal passages for the past several minutes. He threw down a glow stick on top of it as Buffy prepared a couple of her own and dropped them where she could use their light to inspect the array of swords, halberds and other weapons that lined the walls of the underground room they had entered. The crystals flared into greenish life, lighting the features of the bringers with a sickly glow as they stepped out from amongst the bundles of weapons. Buffy shifted her grip on her shortsword as she stepped back. Spike's footsteps matched hers and the two stood back to back before the first of the harbingers could even swing at them.

The bringers seemed to lack even the simple initiative to use the longer weapons that were readily available to them, almost all of them relying solely on the small curved daggers that they carried, and the fact that they didn't seem to want Buffy dead only hampered them further. It took less than a minute before seven lay on the ground, spilling their lifeblood on the concrete floor, and Spike was using their intended prisoner's belt to fasten his arms behind his back before he regained consciousness. Buffy started to look at the weapons, examining them for quality, but Spike gave a quick shake of his head, resorting to an urgent whisper when he realised that, with the bringers subdued, their bond had reverted to normal. "Get a rough count an' do it quick, an' then we're out of here."

"What's the rush? We still haven't checked out what the noise is. I mean, I clocked him pretty good. He should be out for at least half an hour. We could-."

"Pet, believe me, if Father Ted has any more of those Turok Han around, then they're already on their way. We've got seven bodies bleedin' out somethin' close enough to human blood to get their attention, an' if they get near enough to smell your little nick..."

Spike's view of the tunnel through which they had arrived superimposed itself over Buffy's attempt at a weapon count, the two approaching Turok Han distracting her slightly.

'Then we'd be screwed?' Buffy finished as she stepped up to face a third ubervamp that growled a greeting from the passage they had yet to explore.

'I was thinking more along the lines of right royally fucked.'