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Sadly, this is the final chapter - Thanks to everyone who took the time to read and especially to Golden Buffy for the excellent banner and to everyone who reviewed and to Diabola and everyone who make this such a fun site.
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Chapter 26 – Perfect Timing

Letter from Lydia Chalmers, Associate Watcher
To Ms. Buffy Summers, Slayer
The Watcher’s Council, Thrusk Street, XXXX, 1999

Dear Slayer Summers:

I hope you won’t find my writing to you impertinent, but under the circumstances, I trust you will take this communication in the kind spirit in which it is meant and not consider it a liberty.

As you may be aware, I am an Associate Watcher, stationed at the Council Headquarters in London. I happened to hear a rather surprising bit of news in the Junior Watcher’s lounge last week concerning yourself and a certain vampire, in whom I’ve long taken a personal interest. In fact, I wrote my master’s thesis on William the Bloody. I believe you know him as Spike.

At the time I received my master’s degree, I had the pleasure of meeting your Watcher’s mother during my graduation ceremonies. During tea afterwards, she approached me and gave me a letter which she said had been handed down from Mr. Giles’ great-grandmother, Mrs. Blodeuwedd Ronwen Giles nee′ Cadwallader. I do not believe Mr. Giles is aware of the existence of this letter, although it appears to be a family heirloom of sorts.

Mrs. Giles told me a fascinating story regarding this letter and asked if I should someday be in a position to assist a Slayer who had gotten herself, well, entangled romantically with a vampire, that I pass the letter on to her. She said the male members of the Council couldn’t be trusted. As soon as I heard about your situation, I moved quickly to determine the truth of the rumor and to forward this communication to you. I hope it will be helpful.

Watchers are taught many things about vampires here at the Council. Not all of them, as you have no doubt learned, are true.

Yours very truly,
Lydia Chalmers
Associate Watcher

***

“She won’t have to.”

Buffy recognized Collin and Weatherby from their last visit to Sunnydale. She stepped between the Council’s agents and Spike.

“Who the hell are you?” Spike said. “And, this is a private conversation, if you don’t mind.”

“Martin Collin, Watcher’s Council, Senior Special Agent. Step away from the vampire, Slayer.” He raised his crossbow.

“Wait!” Giles said. “Collin, Weatherby and … whoever you are! Wait! The claim doesn’t expire until midnight. If you kill Spike now, you’ll kill the Slayer as well.”

Collin kept his eye on Spike and his crossbow steady. “I’ve got orders. Tell your Slayer to get out of the way, or I’ll take her out, too.”

Buffy waited for the flick of Collin’s eye that told her he was about to fire his bolt. She shoved Spike to the ground and ran straight for Collin. The bolt whizzed by her ear as she tackled him to the ground and punched his face.

Spike jumped Weatherby and snatched away his crossbow. Spike backhanded the agent, sending him flying into the fountain and raised the crossbow at Payne. They stood ten feet apart with crossbows aimed at each other. Spike ripped into his vampire face. Payne gasped and lowered his bow a fraction of an inch, his hands shaking.

Quentin Travers appeared from behind the perfume counter where he’d been watching his Slayer in action with great relish. “Damn it, man. Shoot!”

Payne backed away. He dropped his bow and ran.

Travers walked over to the discarded crossbow and picked it up.

“And, who the bloody hell are you?” Spike demanded. “I’ve had more enough of blokes fetching up out of nowhere looking to kill Yours Truly.”

Travers examined the bow, adjusted it as if he had an infinite amount of time to attack. “Quentin Travers, Chief Minister of Her Majesty’s Watcher’s Council. And, you, I believe, are William the Bloody. The second most notorious vampire in Council history, and a member of the Scourge of Europe.”

“Well, well.” Spike puffed out his chest and stroked himself. “Finally sent in the big gun to deal with William the Bloody. You’re dead wrong about me being number two. I think you should know that I claimed your Slayer, so if you kill me, you’ll be taking her out, too.”

Travers raised the bow. “That would be unfortunate.”

Willow’s new blonde friend, gripped her arm. “His aura – He’s going to kill them. We have to do something,” she said.

Willow and the blonde girl joined hands. Willow focused her power through a pink lace parasol that she’d bought at the lingerie shop and aimed.

“Vincire!” they shouted.

A bolt of golden energy shot out of the parasol’s tip, arced and zapped the crossbow. The metal shaft of the quarrels melted and bent and the wooden tip flared up and burnt away.

“Redimio quod Redimio!”

A circle of golden yellow energy circled Travers and suspended him above the floor.

Buffy jumped up from beating the unconscious Collins and stamped her foot, hard. A giant crack opened in the floor and streaked under Travers and opened a wide crevice.

Willow wiggled her fingers and dropped him in.

Spike flung his crossbow down in disgust. Damn, he’d have been the most famous vampire in history if he’d bagged the Head of the Watcher’s Council. He walked over to Buffy, who was peering over the edge of the crevice.

Lydia straggled up to where Buffy and Spike were standing. She rooted around in her purse and pulled out an envelope. “Ms. Summers, I’m Lydia Chalmers of the Watcher’s Council. I have something for you.”

Perfect timing. A letter from the people who’d just tried to kill her and her mate. Buffy opened the envelope and took out two letters. She read the letters and tucked them back in the envelope. “Thanks, Lydia. Perfect timing.”

Giles held up his wristwatch. “Buffy, it’s almost midnight. Stand away from Spike.”

Buffy stepped closer to Spike, put her arms around her mate and ignored Giles.

Giles blustered until Joyce joined him and stepped on his foot in a meaningful way.

“So,” Spike said. “Another minute and you’ll be shut of me. It was fun, Goldilocks. We should do it again some time.” He was going to miss the little chit, the fighting, the shagging, even taking her to the dog races.

“We should. How about right now?”

“Er, what?”

Buffy stretched up on her toes, pulled away the neck band on Spike’s tee shirt and bit his neck hard with her blunt, white teeth. Hard enough to draw a tiny spurt of blood, which she licked up. Yuck. “Mine.”

“Owww, Slayer!” Spike grasped her by the shoulders and held her back. Did she know what she had just done?

“Mine!” she said and jerked him as close as she decently could with her mother standing right next to her.

Spike smiled and lifted her into his arms. “Yours, pet.”

They stood under a dripping sprinkler head and kissed for a long time.

“Buffy?” Joyce said. “Did you just get married?”

***

Buffy admired her new pink negligee in the mirror and took a fat Lemon Seduction candle out of her patrol bag and set it on the table next to their bed. Next, she took out the chunky silver and white-striped package that Anya had given her and another smaller package from Willow.

She handed the smaller package to Spike, who was lolling on the bed, recuperating after an invigorating shag with his mate.

“What’s this, then?”

“Present for you from your Adoring Mate.”

Spike ripped open the package with his fangs. It was a silver neck chain. Very manly.

“Let me help you put it on.” Buffy fastened the chain around his neck and whispered the magic word to lock the chain. She didn’t mention that the chain couldn’t be removed without a different magic password known only to Willow or that Spike’s days as the Big Bad were officially over. Let him find out for himself.

“Thanks, luv.” He touched the chain and blinked away the tears in his eyes. “Nobody ever gave me a gift like this.”

“You would not be wrong,” Buffy said.

Spike rolled her onto the bed and kissed her.

Buffy pushed him away, but not too far. “Here, open the other one.”

“Who’s this from?”

“Anya gave it to us for a wedding present.”

Spike smiled. “That’s more like it. Knew your friends would come around.” He pulled off the silver bow and stuck it in Buffy’s hair and tore off the paper. His smile disappeared.

“Do you … do you know … what… what this is?” He stuttered and swallowed hard.

“Sure. It’s Frimwerst, the ancient Laplandish fertility god. Don’t you like it?” Buffy patted Frimwerst’s head and hopped out of bed before Spike could waylay her again.

It was too late now. Let her find out for herself. Turnabout was fair play. If she was going to come wagging Frimwerst statues around, well, she was bloody well going to get what she deserved. “Swell, pet. Come back to bed.”

“I’m thirsty.”

“There’s a coke in the fridge,” he said.

Buffy headed for the kitchen. She came back with a half glass of coke in her hand. She swigged the rest down and crawled into bed next to her husband. She sniffed his neck.

“Mmmm. Boy smell nice.”

Frimwert’s penis glowed bright red.

***

Serafimo Guttierez dropped his new construction company’s bid for repairs to the mall and the putas’ underwear store and dropped it into his fax machine. He pushed the send button.

Quizas los vampiros no eran tan malos.

***


Letter from Lady Victorine Teansdale, nee′ Chesler
Express from Istanbul, Turkey
May 7, 1901

Dear Sir Arthur,

Are you quite all right? Mum wrote last week and lashed me without mercy for eloping without telling you. She says it’s my fault you were sent to an asylum, and places all your troubles straight to my doorstep. I don’t like to think it, but if so, I can only say I’m sorry.

My marriage to Lord T couldn’t be avoided once he had his way with me in the matter of the biting and claiming, and you know very well I had to beat it out of England before that old codger, Burbin Quentin, got news of the goings on.

You’re an old softie, Arthur, and I know you’ll forgive me just for the asking, so I ask you. I hope someday to meet you again. You can buy me a new hat to show there are no hard feelings. Red straw with long black feathers are all the rage this season here in … [word scratched out].

Almost forgot, Jonathan said not to mention where we are staying lest Quentin reads your mail and decides to sends his minions after us.

Love,
Vicky

P.S. I love him very much. Do you mind, awfully?


The End