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 5.21
Sunday, June 16th, 2002


Strong arms grabbed her and pulled her free just as the freshly turned, sandy soil began to tumble through the hole she had made in the coffin lid, like the grains in an hourglass, filling her mouth and counting out the minutes until she would die again. They held her and rocked her, pulling her close, and even though her battered body protested, her fear gradually ebbed as the familiar accent whispered softly at her ear.

"S'alright, baby. Spike's got you. He's got you. Shush, kitten, shhhhh. Deep breaths. Slow it down. Slow and easy. I'm here. It's over, an' your Spike won't let it happen again."

Like a fun-runner at the end of a marathon, her rapid, gasping breaths finally eased until her chest no longer burned in protest and the sobs she hadn't even been aware of faded away. Spike's hold loosened as she relaxed with her back against his chest.

"Y-you didn't..."

"Didn't share?" Spike paused until she nodded her head. "No, love. Been awake for a bit, but I figured when your breathin' got outta whack that it'd be better to wake you up."

"What's with the wakiness?" Buffy rolled to face him, piling every iota of concern she was feeling into their bond. "Is this because of the growly thing? 'Cause have to say, can't see that as being of the bad. You kicked gnarly grey Twarick Hun butt. It's not like I'm going to give you a hard time about it."

Spike shrugged. "Maybe, partly, I don't know. Even if I don't end up with you riding my arse about it, you can bet the Watcher Boys are going to want to investigate it to death."

"Are those like the Hardy Boys with tweed?"

"Tweed and broomsticks up their backsides. An' I can't say as I blame them. Rupert was practically twitching to get his notebook out an' start the interrogation. The slayer an' her pet vamp is one thing-."

"You're not my pet vamp. Don't talk like that."

"'S how Rupert sees me. Like as not, Wes'd say the same but manage to make it sound better. 'S the only reason they trust me around you and Niblet an' the rest without a bloody muzzle."

"They trust you because you've earned it."

"Bollocks, pet, an' you know it." Spike gave a discontented near-growl. "If it was ever about earning their trust, then, they'd have accepted me back when Glory was after The Bit, an' if not then, they would have done it when I stayed an' watched over her an' helped out, but you've heard the boy often enough. He'll never let himself forget what I am, an' every single one of them went right back to treatin' me like I'd gone skinny-dipping in The Bog of Eternal Stench as soon as you got back, 'cept Niblet and the good witch.

Fact of the matter is that I had a blackout an' that lot barely trust me when I am in charge of what I'm doin'. How the hell are they ever goin' to trust me when I'm not? How am I goin' to trust me?"

"Spike, who's the slayer here?" She slid her hand beneath his chin and pressed until he raised his head to look her in the eye once more. "The council may not like it, but when all's said and done I'm in charge and I trust you. This is so not an issue."

Spike shook his head gently. "Wishing it doesn't make it so, kitten. I'm not a nice man. Never claimed to be, an' if you knew just a fraction of the things I've done, then, you wouldn't take this so lightly."

"I don't take it lightly. I know it's a big deal, and, hey, I'd be freaking out, too, if I was walking around with holes in my memory, but I know what I felt. I know what you were feeling those times you don't remember and whatever subconscious part of you was in charge, I trust it and I love it, just the way I love you."

"I am not freakin' out. The Big Bad does not freak out. An' what if that wasn't me, at all? What if it's one big game that The First is playing to sucker you in an' get you to trust it while it's sticking its hand up my bum and using me like Nookie the bloody Bear?"

"You think The First wants to use your body to have sex with a bear?" Buffy asked. "Is this a prophecy thing? 'Cause I haven't heard that one and your body ain't having sex with no one and nothing but me."

"No, Nookie Bear, Nookie the Bear, whatever, some sort of teddy bear ventriloquist's dummy. Point bein' we don't know for sure who was pulling the strings when I was like that."

"Stop fussing. I know. You think The First could fool me?"

"Managed a fair convincing impersonation of you an' Dru before now. Don't reckon it'd find me any harder to do."

Buffy took a deep breath. She was beginning to appreciate how her mom had felt when she had run up against Buffy's own stubborn streak. "So far, it's happened once, and I'm in no hurry to get myself hurt like this to see if it happens again. We can worry about it if it becomes a habit. Okay?" she slowly carded her fingers through the short locks just above his ear. "But for the record, I don't think The First would understand what we have between us... and the way you use the claim to all but drown me in love? It wouldn't have a clue." Buffy concentrated on telling him without words, just exactly how much those feelings were returned and the vampire finally seemed to decide to let the subject go.

"An' you?" he asked. His fingers ghosted lightly up and down her side, marking a narrow, slightly curved trail to avoid bruises.

"Huh?"

"You, pet. What's the deal? You don't have that dream when everythin' in the garden's rosy. An' if it's not me doin' Hulk impressions that's got you off balance, it must be somethin' else."

"I guess... Maybe it's just because it's a while since anything got that close."

"Maybe," Spike answered, sounding non-commital. "That what you think it is?"

"I don't know. It... It all just seems so big. I guess I just don't know where we go from here. We hurt them, but we got our butts kicked in the process and I don't think The First is all that bothered about losing a body here or there, but every one that we lose is a person, a face, someone's daughter, friend, whatever, and we will lose some of them. I just don't know if I can cope with that."

"You cope by training them the best you know how. You take it one step at a time and you break it down into bits you can do."

"You make it sound easy, but how do I train these girls, get to know them and then just watch them get pulled apart by a flock of bringers? If The First doesn't make them pull themselves apart first."

"You don't, but if you want them to fight for you, then you have to get to know them. You have to make them feel like you think they're special. Let your belief in them keep them going until they can believe in themselves."

"Personnel management, vampire style?" Buffy teased.

"Hell no! Vamp style, you kill the ones that cock up an' the ones that get too close to bein' a threat, an' as long as you don't settle in one place for too long you can generally recruit enough bodies to keep a decent cadre. That's out of some book on one of them World War II guys."

"But doesn't that hurt, when you lose them? Doesn't it kill you bit by bit as you watch them die?"

"Pet, right back to the beginning of time, the reason any army fights is less to do with honour or pride or any of that balls than they'd have you believe. They fight because their friends, the guys on either side of them, are relyin' on them. They fight because if the enemy breaks through their lines, then their daughters an' their sisters an' their wives an' their mothers'll be robbed blind an' used however the winners see fit. An' they'll lose people along the way, but you don't stop in the middle of a fight to grieve, you just get angry an' make sure you get the bastard as did it.

We'll all lose a few, an' when it's all over an' done with I'll hold you tight an' let you cry like a river, but we don' have a choice. If all you give those girls is the slayer, if you don't let them see who you are, as well as what you are, then you'll already have lost them before you begin."

"I'm not sure I can do that."

"Then, I guess I'll just have to believe in you until you can believe it for yourself... Though I think we'll all have to claim an excemption when it comes to that Kennedy bint. Doubt anyone as wasn't blood related could even pretend they gave a damn about that one. Well, 'cept maybe Glinda, an' there's days I wonder if those bits in the Bible about angels walkin' in disguise amongst us were written 'bout her."

Buffy fixed him with a questioning stare. "You really think even Tara could care about Superbrat?"

Spike smirked. "Well, no, but it sounded good..."

There was a discreet cough from just outside the door, and then Lily entered with a mug of blood in either hand, followed by Dawn carrying a steaming bowl of soup and a spoon and Tara carrying two glasses of fruit juice.

"Is that-."

"Bee's home-made cream of chicken soup. Nothing out of a can," Dawn interrupted, "and the juice is two-."

"Parts orange, one part grapefruit," both Spike and Buffy chimed in.

Lily fixed each of the invalids in turn with a firm stare. "You know what happen if everything not all eaten up when we come back?"

"You hold our noses and pour it in our mouths a bit at a time until we're forced to swallow?" Buffy replied.

Lily ushered the others from the room as she replied. "Close enough. And I no thinking you want to swap leftovers." She waited until the door was only six inches from being closed to add, "Kennedy, she brat because parents give her money instead of love. Maybe is our job to teach her."

Spike yelled after her as the door shut. "I signed on to help the slayer, not join The Salvation Army."

 

---

 

Anya's eyes narrowed as she sat down at the table opposite Giles. "You've had orgasms," she accused. "Lots of orgasms. Of the non-DIY variety."

Giles flushed beneath her stare and, no doubt, if he hadn't chosen to wear his contact lenses he would have been polishing already, but he failed to deny her accusations. Instead, he tried to divert her attention. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell. Now I asked you here-."

"I'm not talking about kissing. I know about your kissing. Firm, forceful without being overpowering, passionate with good technique, but even that wouldn't get you that smug, 'I banged a natural blonde twenty years younger than me' glow."

"Oh dear Lord!" Giles briefly lowered his forehead almost to the table, and, just for a second, considered seeing if a few repeated impacts would either shut Anya up or at least produce sufficient brain damage that he would no longer hear her. "If you must know, I asked you to call in because I wanted your help with some shopping type things."

"You want me to help you spend your money?" Anya asked, her eyes suddenly gleaming and a beautifully glossed smile on her lips.

"Yes, well, I believe you can order almost anything on the line these days. After this morning's events I thought it might be an idea to bring forward looking for Buffy's wedding present slightly. I have a couple of ideas but I'm not entirely sure which way to go so I thought maybe you could guide me through some net sites." He coughed slightly before he continued. "Then, I wondered if you might be able to direct me to the tailor where Spike was having the clothes made for the wedding, preferably without going through the sewers. Spike's new coat took something of a beating last night and I believe it will take someone highly skilled to restore it to any sort of semblance of its former glory. So many of the girls saw him win that. If it were to disappear so soon afterward, it might cause questions. I think for the sake of morale it would be best if we could get it patched up before Spike is back up and around."

Anya didn't believe the morale excuse for a minute, but if Giles wanted to be shy about doing a friend type thing for Spike because he'd stopped some older than dirt vamps from killing Buffy, then who was she to complain, especially if it meant she got to spend money on Giles' credit cards. Of course, it also provided her with an excellent opportunity to point out that while he was Buffy's ex- watcher he was her present-day business partner and surely that merited just as large a wedding present as an ex-anything.