Hell is a city much like London --
A populous and a smoky city;
There are all sorts of people undone,
And there is little or no fun done;
Small justice shown; and still less pity.
(Percy B. Shelley)
London. A chill driving rain sent the few pedestrians on Edgeware Road scurrying for shelter.
All except for the slender blond man in the leather coat. He alone seemed untroubled by the weather, sauntering casually across the street to wait on the traffic island as the light changed.
There was a young couple caught with him; the girl gave him an interested glance that made her companion scowl. The blond noticed; and his mouth curved in amusement. He reached for a cigarette, groping for his lighter...the flare of the tiny flame flicked over the window of the cab pulled up beside him.
Shock held him suspended...he stared into the window- into luminous large eyes he'd last seen half a world away, in a place where the sun was always shining and the sky was always blue.
Or so he'd been told.
The line of traffic began to move; a sudden panicky feeling made him strain to keep her in sight...but it was no use. She was going, would soon be gone...the cab swirled around a corner.
The boy on the island smirked. "Lost her, hey mate?"
Spike smiled at the wanker, making a mental note to kill him at the first opportunity. "Looks like it, mate."
The young man grinned. "Might be I could help you out, for a price."
"Yeah? You some sodding Sherlock Holmes?" Spike demanded.
"Don't have to be. That's my uncle's cab. Now...got a tanner?"
Spike blew a smoke ring. "I might at that."
The house stood in Kensington at the end of a quiet cul de sac. It was a huge brick in the Queen Anne style, heavily embellished with porticoes, porches, and towers.
Like a princess in a castle, Spike thought idly; then cursed himself for thinking it. Drusilla had been his princess, not the Slayer.
But...what was she doing here, in London?
High in one of the turrets, Spike saw a light go on, and he wondered if that was her room.
He leaned forward a little; this reminded him of balmy nights in Sunnyhell, when he'd sometimes stroll by the house on Revello Drive and gaze up at her window. He'd never been sure why he did that; but once he'd seen her light turn on while he watched. It made him feel...strange; almost...excited.
"You should be more careful," a woman's musical voice sounded behind him.
Spike whirled- one arm coming up for a killing blow; but she didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled at him; and his breath caught- she was, quite literally, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She was around thirty, with dark hair that held the gloss of a raven's wing, and deep blue eyes.
Welsh, he identified automatically.
He decided to bluff it out. "Careful, pet? Why is that?" She put her head on one side and studied him. "Well...isn't it a bit risky, for a vampire to approach the headquarters of the Watchers' Council?"
Spike's cigarette fell from nerveless fingers. "Bloody hell! This is it?"
Before she could respond a black limo pulled up under the main portico; and three people emerged. One was a fair girl with long hair nearly to her waist; one a wizened, elderly woman. The third was a tall, extremely handsome Eurasian man.
Spike watched them disappear into the house; then turned back to his new acquaintance. To his astonishment, she'd gone as pale as milk...for an instant he feared she was about to faint.
"I must go," she mumbled, starting across the street.
"Wait!" Spike grasped her arm painfully.
"Please! It's very dangerous- we can't talk here!"
"Where then?" Spike released her reluctantly.
"There's a place in Piccadilly- Samantha's- meet me there in two hours."
She ran swiftly towards the lighted doorway, but Spike couldn't see who let her into the house.
"Sod it all!" he growled. "What was that all about?"
With one final glance up at the tower window, he strode off in the direction of Piccadilly.
He had been six weeks in London; and spent five of them regretting he'd ever come back. What had he been thinking? London had brought him nothing but misery, ever...
Face it, chum, he told himself. What you wanted was someplace to lick your wounds, far from anyone who knows you.
London had seemed an ideal choice- he knew it so well. Knew every street, every byway...yet, in that whole great city, there was not one person who remembered William the Bloody.
Until now.
Samantha's was small, quiet, discreetly lit... he waited in a private booth. He'd almost given her up when she slid silently into the seat across from him.
"My name is Blodwen," she told him, without preliminary.
He lifted the wine bottle he'd ordered, and filled her glass. "I'm Spike."
"I know of you," she said slowly. "Why were you watching the house?"
He had no intention of telling her that. " I heard something was going down, pet. And I hate surprises."
"Are you planning to interfere?" she asked him baldly.
"No. Now...why don't you tell me what I won't be interfering with? Start by explaining what you are!"
"But I told you..." she began.
Spike held up his hand. "Not WHO you are; WHAT you are. Are you a Watcher? And, who were those people who showed up earlier?"
"It's all connected. The man you saw is Nigel Chang- and he's a Watcher. The girl is named Stefania. She's a Searcher, as well as an empath. The old woman is Elspeth Blackwood. She is the head of the Council."
Spike considered this. "Where do you fit in, Blodwen?"
"I work for Elspeth; but I'm not a full-fledged Watcher. Not yet."
He thought he heard an underlying edge there- but she continued, "That isn't important. The Council is summoning as many of the Watchers, and Searchers, as it can gather. They're coming from all over."
"What for?" Spike asked.
"For the trial, of course. In three days, the Council plans to put the Slayer on trial- for her life."
"What?" Spike stared at Blodwen incredulously. "Why?"
Blodwen leaned towards him, her eyes somber. "For murder, Spike. You see..." her hands were suddenly shaking; drops of merlot spattered across the snowy tablecloth.
"...The Slayer killed her Watcher."
They were waiting for him when he got back to the hotel. He'd been staying in a small, unpretentious place in Chelsea called the Tudor Arms; it was welcoming to vampires.
Too welcoming, Spike decided, as his reception committee ringed him.
They took him to an ordinary Georgian house in St. John's Wood, far from Kensington. Spike was certain that was deliberate- London's Master Vampire wouldn't relish proximity to the Watchers.
Master Tao was in his walled garden; and, at first sight, he did not impress. He was an elderly Chinese, small and slightly built, quietly dressed in a plain dark suit and red silk tie.
But Spike did not make the mistake of underestimating this man whose iron rule had directed London's vampires for half a century.
Then Master Tao spoke; and Spike knew he'd been right to be wary- this was the most dangerous vampire he'd ever come up against.
**************
Dawn was breaking as Spike stretched out on his bed, unable to sleep. The warning from Master Tao was all too clear in his mind.
"In itself, this trial is nothing," the old man had said. "There is far more involved than that- although I cannot recall a time when a Slayer killed her Watcher. You know this Slayer?"
"No," Spike said carefully, "but I have had...dealings, with the other one."
"Two Slayers," Master Tao frowned, "and one a traitor. What of the other? Is she capable of betrayal?"
"No!" Spike spoke with conviction. "I'd never believe that."
He didn't, he realized. She had- a strong sense of loyalty, the Slayer. HIS Slayer. He didn't know this other one, this killer named Faith. Faith the Faithless...that was rich. He shook with silent laughter, then sobered, remembering Master Tao's warning.
"This trial will have repercussions," the Master said. "Elspeth Blackwood is dying; and at least three other factions are scrambling for power...Quentin Travers thinks to head the Council, but so does Nigel Chang. Others, too, have ambitions. If you become involved in any way, great harm may come of it."
Spike stared. 'No fear of that; it's nothing to me who heads the Council."
"Nothing," Master Tao agreed. "Please remember that, Spike. Or I will kill you myself."
*********
For several hours, Spike tried to will himself to sleep, only to eventually give up. He wasn't used to sleeping alone....
Except he was, really. At least lately. It had been a long time since Drusilla had willingly shared his bed; and still longer since he had made love to her...
Made love TO her. Yeah, that's what it had amounted to, all right. She 'd never made love to HIM, or even WITH him. But there'd been a time, long ago, when she'd accepted his attentions willingly enough. A time when she was happy with him...
Wasn't there?
Impatiently, Spike got up and paced until the sun finally dipped behind the horizen; and he found himself out in the street, walking briskly.
Right mate, he told himself. The thing to do is to stay far away from Kensington...especially from that house...
So, why was he going there?
Spike cursed; and lit his fourth cigarette.
Tonight the house in Kensington was ablaze with light; lots of people coming and going....
GOING?!
He'd almost missed the two lithe figures who slipped from one of the many side doors and then crept silently down the street. He slipped into the shadows and waited until they were safely by...the Slayer, and the other girl, the one Blodwen said was called Stefania.
Once away from the Council House they didn't bother to hide; and he trailed them easily to a club called Percival's. The club was basically a huge crowded room below street level, with small tables set in alcoves along the walls.
Some pillock asked the Slayer to dance; and Spike was reminded of the time when he'd first seen her, back in Sunnyhell.
"Hello, Cutie!" He pitched his voice just loud enough for her to hear over the music.
Quick as a flash she turned smoothly into him, and he felt the wooden stake pressing against his chest. To everyone else, it looked like she was embracing him.
Spike never flinched, smiling directly into her eyes. "Miss me?"
She eased up on the stake, but she didn't return his smile. "Cut to the chase, Spike! What do you want?"
"Not a thing, Kitten. Oh, wait...I want to hear all about the murder trial. Not everyday a Slayer kills her Watcher, is it?"
Her gaze faltered at that, and she lowered the stake.
Instantly, before she could react, he tightened his arms around her and held her hard against him. His strong fingers twisted the stake from her grasp; and he heard it fall. To his surprise, she didn't resist him, simply stood passively in his arms; and then, by unspoken consent, they began moving together to the music.
After awhile she spoke. "Why are you here, Spike? I know this is your hometown, but..."
His hometown? He almost snorted at that. His life in London had been one long misery; and he couldn't think, now, why he'd bothered to come back.
But- if this wasn't home, then where?
Unwillingly, a picture formed in his mind's eye of a sign reading "Welcome to Sunnydale." And his car smashing through it....
Sunnyhell?
Spike shook his head impatiently, trying to get rid of the all-too-vivid image.
Buffy mistook the gesture. "I thought you were going back to Brazil to find Drusilla?"
"It didn't work out, pet," he said flatly. Then something...some perverse imp of honesty, made him add, "Dru decided she was quite happy where she was. Seems the Chaos Demon's a damned good lover, if you'll pardon the pun."
She didn't laugh, as he'd thought she might. Instead her eyes darkened in sympathy, and she murmured, "I'm sorry, Spike."
He shrugged. "Nothing to be sorry about, luv. After awhile, it gets harder to lie to yourself, that's all. And in Dru's case, I finally ran out of lies."
Buffy wasn't fooled by his flippant tone, but she said nothing else, just leaned further into his arms. "I know about that- running out of lies. It happened to me too, with Angel. And again, with Faith."
"Tell me," he said softly, almost coaxingly.
"You were right when you said we'd never be friends. Angel is in L.A. now, he can't stay in Sunnydale. And Faith...you know about that?"
"Yeah...she killed her Watcher."
Buffy nodded. "My Watcher, too. The Council fired Giles, and sent Wesley in his place. Then Faith went bad...and murdered Wesley."
"What became of Giles?" Spike asked, wondering why he even cared.
"He's here, in London. But they won't let him stay at the Council House...lucky him! He didn't want me to come here alone."
"But you're alone at the Council House?" Spike demanded sharply.
Buffy giggled. "Hardly...there's Watchers, and Searchers, and ..."
"Buffy Summers!" A furious male voice interrupted them; and Spike looked up to see the handsome Eurasian that Blodwen had identified as Nigel Chang. One hand kept a tight grip on Stefania's wrist; with the other Nigel reached for Buffy.
Spike moved to block him. "Here, mate, don't grab! Didn't your mum ever teach you that's not polite?"
Nigel's eyes were blazing. "Get out of my way!"
Buffy placed her hand on Spike's arm. "It's ok, Spike," she said hurriedly, "I better go."
She started to walk out with the others...then stopped, turned, and dashed back to Spike.
To his amazement, she put both arms around his waist; and hugged him. "Bye!" He stared after her, his jaw dropping...then, he felt the tiny slip of paper she had slipped inside his pocket. It was embossed with a logo- from the Tavistock Hotel.
"Well," Spike said aloud, "looks like I know where to find the Watcher."
It was none of his business, he told himself. The last thing he needed was to get caught up in some sort of power struggle among the Watchers, not to mention running afoul of Master Tao.
Spike groaned, and dropped his head into his hands. Bloody hell, he thought, I've been too long away...I don't belong in London anymore.
Yet...she was alone, surrounded by that nest of vipers. The Watchers liked to pretend they were some new Round Table who fought for the forces of good; but Spike knew better. They were every bit as ruthless, in their way, as Master Tao and his vampire clan.
"So what?" he said aloud. "If anyone can take care of herself, it's that little bitch! She's wriggled out of sticky situations plenty of times."
But that had been on her home ground. Here, except for Giles, she was completely isolated. Except for Giles....
"Spike!" Giles blocked the doorway to his hotel room, staring at the vampire in open-mouthed shock.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Spike sneered. "Or do I make you nervous, Watcher?"
Giles stood aside. "You don't need an invitation in a hotel," he said mildly. "And- I am no longer a Watcher."
"I know that," Spike said impatiently. "That's why I've come. I want to play 'Let's Make a Deal' again!"
Master Tao reached up toward the trellis and plucked one of the pale pink roses.
"These have the sweetest scent," he said softly. "They're not hybrids, you see...they are real. I will have no hybrids in my garden."
Spike watched impassively, giving no indication that his stomach was clenched in knots.
Master Tao sat on one of the stone benches beneath the rose arbor. "I'm proud of my garden; but roses are seen best in the light of day...did you know? They love the sun."
He turned to the blond vampire and nodded. "Play out the game, Spike. But...remember what I told you... if there is trouble, I will kill you myself."
As the minion led him away, Spike looked back at Master Tao, sitting among his roses. And for the first time in a long while, he felt afraid.
Blodwen was waiting on the steps of his hotel.
For an instant Spike felt furious; then realized Master Tao would have been informed- and had already given him permission to play out the game.
"I need your help," Blodwen told him urgently.
"Why should I help a Watcher?" Spike asked nonchalently.
"Because of what I can do for you." She cast a swift glance around, "We can't talk here."
Spike allowed her to draw him into the shadows of the aptly named Green Park...at this time of night it was no longer green, but black and full of shadows, almost empty of the crowds that roamed through during the day, and picnicked on the lawns.
What would it be like, he wondered, to lie on a blanket in the grass...holding a girl? He closed his eyes, trying to conjure up Dru; but instead he saw the Slayer stretched out under those trees, her golden hair spread out around her. She would be laughing up at him, and then she would hold out her arms...
He drew in a breath sharply; and the image, so disturbingly vivid, dissolved.
Blodwen's words seemed to come from a great distance. "They're going to kill the Slayer."
"Won't happen." Spike shook his head. "Gi...uh, I was told that they don't put renegade Slayers to death anymore. They'll lock Faith away, until..."
She clutched at his arm. "Not THAT Slayer...the other one! They plan to kill Buffy!"
Buffy poured a generous amount of her favorite vanilla-scented bubble bath into the steaming tub. Usually she liked showers; but the enormous bathroom she shared with Stefania had an authentic clawfoot tub that she was unable to resist.
The water rippled soothingly around her; and she slipped back in dreamy bliss.
The clamor of the telephone roused her; wiping her hands on the thick white towel, she reached for the cell phone her mother had insisted she bring.
"Giles?"
"Buffy? Is everything...?"
"I'm fine, Giles. What do you want?"
"An old...friend...is here; he'd like a word."
"Hello, Cutie," said an all-too-familiar voice.
Buffy yelped...and promptly swished the bubbles over her naked body, making sure she was completely covered. The absurdity of her action didn't cross her mind- all she knew was that her entire body was hot all over, like one enormous blush.
"S...Spike?" she managed.
"Right." Spike frowned...he almost thought he heard water sloshing about, but what could it be?
"We need to meet, pet," he put in, still wondering about the sound.
"Ok," Buffy said hurriedly. Her bubbles were rapidly disappearing; and she was anxious to get off the phone. "Let me talk to Giles...I have an idea."
**********************
In the dream he climbed the winding stair, round and round....finally at the top there was a light...he stepped into the room and sighted a deep Victorian bath...filled with bubbles....
George Edward Smith and his infamous 'brides in the bath' were among the permanent displays in Mme. Tussaud's Chamber of Horrors. The Wax Museum was always dimly lit; but down in the Chamber of Horrors it was almost totally dark, adding to the eerie atmosphere.
Spike slid forward out of the shadows.... "Slayer," he hissed.
She froze, still staring at the tableau of Smith with one of his drowned brides. "Giles told me about the deal."
"Yes," he confirmed, "I come back to Sunnyhell; you leave me alone. A truce, pet."
She stirred restlessly. "I want Giles to be reinstated. He misses it...that whole Watcher thing. He really does."
"And you miss him." Spike said with utter certainty.
"Yes."
It was a little word; but the sincere love she heaped on it made him feel a pang. For a moment he wished...he didn't know.
"All right, Spike," Buffy sighed. "If you help us, then you can come home to Sunnyhe...Sunnydale. And I won't come after you. But...I'm not sure...how do you plan to help? You can't come into the Council House, and if someone tries to kill me, that's probably where the action will be."
"Giles wants me to protect you," Spike told her, waiting for the explosion.
Instead, she chuckled. "I was going to ask you to protect HIM!"
Spike grinned. "I doubt he'll need me, pet. Not if the Watcher blokes succeed in taking you down."
"Why would they want to?" Buffy asked, puzzled.
Spike shrugged. "Travers plans to head the whole show; and he thinks you're too bloody independent, luv. And far too fond of your former Watcher, whom he apparently hates."
"He blames Giles for Faith; but it was Wesley's fault," Buffy admitted. "If only he hadn't put chains on her; and said she'd stand trial..."
"It probably wouldn't have made any difference in the end, Slayer," Spike said sincerely.
She sighed unhappily; and Spike was aware of an insane urge to comfort her. Impatiently he turned away. "We'd better go back..."
His eyes fell on the serial killer Smith once again.
"Bath!" he exclaimed. "You were taking a bath when I called!"
Buffy blushed as red as a rose.
"You were!" Spike started to laugh.
"So what if I was?" Buffy countered feebly.
He was laughing so hard that the tourists were starting to stare; so Buffy seized Spike's hand and hauled him forcefully up the stairs. Mme. Tussaud's was closing...the London dusk closed around them, as soft as velvet. The rain had stopped, and for once the ancient city seemed fresh and young.
To his surprise, she didn't drop his hand once they'd reached the street; and it gave him a queer, excited feeling to feel her tiny fingers clasping his. In the crowd exiting from the Wax Museum, it had made sense to lace their fingers together. Out on the street, it no longer made sense- yet neither made a move to release their hold.
He glanced at her sidewise, wondering what was going on behind that enchanting face. Worried about her Watcher, probably. Yeah...funny, that. Each of them, Watcher and Slayer, so eager for him to protect the other! What a laugh.
He'd tried to protect Dru, of course. That's what they were all about...her needing him, needing his strength...and he 'd never once grudged it.
But when he'd been injured, she suddenly had no time for him. Angelus was back; and the two of them together were eager to indulge long-repressed appetites...ALL their appetites.
He would never have dreamed it would hurt so much.
It wasn't just the infidelity...Spike would have swallowed that, if only Dru still loved him. But she didn't; and the worst thing was...he'd begun to suspect she never truly had.
"Spike?" the Slayer was looking at him questioningly. "What are you thinking about?"
There was no way he'd confess to thinking about Dru, especially with Angelus. Desperately he cast about for another topic, and saw salvation looming just ahead- the glowing windows of a cozy pub.
"I was wondering if you'd like to stop off for a bit, luv?" Spike suggested. "Been on a pub crawl yet?"
"No," she was instantly intrigued. "I've hardly been anyplace except the museum, and the club..."
Before she could finish, he pulled her through the door, into a crowded, raucous bar. "Say no more, kitten; and let me buy you a pint."
The place went in for a good bit of Jacobean atmosphere, with high-backed wooden benches and half-timbering, but the patrons tended to be young and rowdy. It was evidently a popular place, judging by the number of people crammed in.
Buffy gingerly tasted her ale, then took a big gulp. "Ummm, this is good!"
"Here, go easy!" Spike was alarmed, knowing the Slayer was not used to drinking. He resolved to keep a close watch on her intake.
"Any room for us, mate?" A young couple, both as dark as Spike and Buffy were fair, looked at them hopefully.
Spike eyed the few inches of bench doubtfully, but willingly squeezed closer to the Slayer. She smiled and, in a gesture that made his unbeating heart constrict, climbed boldly onto his lap. He could only stare at her, speechless. She smiled impishly.
The young man grinned. "Now, that's what I call the right idea!" He sat down beside them, pulling his girlfriend onto his knees. "I'm Peter, and this is Susan."
"Buffy and Spike," the Slayer remarked casually.
Spike was still in a bemused state- what was the Slayer playing at? Then he realized her drink was nearly gone...
The basement of the Council House contained a tiny room, devoid of windows or doors. The sole means of entry was the dumb waiter through which food could be lowered. The room was comfortable enough, if a bit spartan; but there was no disguing its true nature- it was a prison.
"Faith?" The voice from the shaft caused the girl seated on the cot to turn her head...just her head. The chain around her ankle was as thick as a cable and kept her from reaching the the dumb waiter.
The man studied her carefully. She sat so quietly she did not appear to be a danger; but he knew that she had lost most of her sanity and all of her conscience during the pivotal clash at the ascension. What remained was just the burned-out husk of her mind.
But he was banking on the notion that it contained all the hate, and all the rage, that she was capable of.
"She's here, Faith. The other one...the one who ruined it for you. But then, she always ruined everything for you, didn't she? They didn't care about you...it was her they all loved. She's in the north tower now, sleeping peacefully while you are down here in the darkness. But I'm going to help you."
He held up a key. "This is for you, Faith." He tossed the key at her feet...and then he was gone.
Faith finally stirred...a sound, low and gutteral, filled the cell. Then...she leaned forward, infinitesimally slow...her fingertips just touched the key.
They would bring her breakfast in the morning. She would be ready for them.
Spike had known some strange experiences in his day; but nothing to touch this...cuddling the Slayer on his lap in a London pub while making small talk with the locals.
The part of his brain that was still functioning was in a state of shock; but the rest was too busy enjoying itself to worry about mortal enemies and wooden stakes. Peter and Susan took it for granted that Buffy and Spike were a couple; and the conversation ranged from music to street festivals to movies to sports- and then back again. Susan was also a rabid fan of Manchester United; Peter had once trained for ice-dancing. Talk flowed lightly and easily.
Spike was a bit startled at how well the Slayer held her own. Angelus had once mentioned that she was cute, but not very bright, and he knew she'd had trouble in school. Yet now he could see that she was actually very quick, and her wit made them all laugh out loud several times.
When he thought about it, strange though it had seemed at first, he rather liked having this sparkling girl perched on his lap. He was aware of the admiring glances cast her way, though she was not; and he felt something that even he could scarcely believe- a certain pride in being seen with her.
Odd, that...when he was with Dru, he'd never liked it when people looked at them; he felt they were curious, or pitying, about her obvious mental unbalance.
But here, with Buffy's sweet weight on his lap, he felt totally relaxed and happy.
Afterward he blamed himself for what happened.
Distracted by the fun he was having, and by his interest in the Slayer, Spike somehow lost track of the clock- and of the pints. Suddenly they were calling , 'Time!' and Buffy tried to stand but fell back laughing in his arms.
Spike took one look, and wished the ground would open up and swallow him. He got her outside; he knew that if the Slayer went missing all night the Council would unleash their dogs, but there was no way she could make it home under her own power.
In the end, he actually carried her. "Here we are, luv! Can you manage now?"
She smiled up at him mistily. "Uh-huh." But the minute he set her down she stumbled and would have fallen if he had not caught her.
"Go up the back?" Buffy mumbled. "There's a door nobody uses- secret stair; Stefania and I found it."
Spike looked helplessly at the girl in his arms; but even as he told himself he must not, MUST NOT, enter the Council House, he was guiding her to the side door she had indicated. "It's locked!" he said in exasperation.
Buffy blinked at him, then reached down the front of her dress and produced a key, chuckling at the expression on his face. The door opened onto a small hallway with a fireplace directly opposite; and Buffy reached under the mantle and pressed a hidden spring. A section of panelling slid away, revealing a narrow iron spiral stair.
The Slayer started up, then tripped and sat down hard at Spike's feet. "Owww!"
Spike sighed, picked her up, and hoisted her over his shoulder. Like in his dream, he climbed the twisting stair, emerging in the large Victorian bathroom. The panel closed silently behind them.
Buffy was laughiing. "Heyyy...thanks for the ride, Spike!"
Two doors opened on opposite sides of the bathroom, and Buffy pointed to the one on the right. He stepped through, kicked it shut, and dropped the heavy wooden latch in place. He strode over to the bed and threw her down on it.
"Wheee!" she squealed, bouncing a little.
Spike looked at her grimly. "You're going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, Slayer...and what's more, you deserve it!"
She pouted her luscious pink mouth. "That's mean...you're mean! I hate..."
"I know, pet," he interrupted. "You hate me, but I'm still all you've got! Now, go to bed!"
Buffy's eyes widened. "'kay. Soon's the room stops spinning!"
Spike swore, then grabbed her ankle and pulled off one shoe; then the other. He began unbuttoning her dress. She made no attempt to help, merely smiling sweetly while he stripped her clothes off.
He paused abruptly, mouth suddenly dry, while he stared down at her. She lay back, her golden hair spread all around her, clad only in lilac wisps of underwear.
"We'll...stop right there, pet." His voice was curiously breathless.
"Will we?" Buffy asked provocatively.
"Yes, we bloody well will!" Spike was trying to be reasonable, but the sight of her made it hard...so hard...harder than he'd ever...
"No!" Outraged, Spike clenched his jaw and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I ...think...you..."
"Yeeess?" she purred.
Oohhh, the little bitch was asking for it! It would serve her right, if he...if he...
"You need..."
"What do I need, Spike?"
Goaded beyond endurance, he said furiously, "You need a good spanking, pet! And maybe I'll see to it, some day! But right now you need to sleep it off, so go to bed! You're bloody drunk!"
She gave him one long, enigmatic look. "Then...TAKE me to bed, Spike?"
In two seconds he was beside her on the bed, hands on her, mouth searching hers with a desperate longing he could no longer conceal. And she...she was kissing him back...in the way he had only dreamed about...
What stopped him was the touch of her hand against his cheek, and the trusting look in the green eyes that gazed into his...
He forced himself to release her, sweeping back the covers to tuck her in as tenderly as he would a child.
She looked at him uncertainly. "You don't...want me?" There was a hint of tears in those big eyes.
He swore again, his voice harsh as a scraping on stone. "Yes, kitten, I do. But not here, and not now."
And when she still looked at him doubtfully, her insecurity plain, he sighed and began stripping down to his t-shirt and boxers. "Listen, Slay...ah, what the hell, Buffy. Move over, I'm going to lie with you awhile in the bed."
He slipped in beside her, pulling her close, relishing the feel of her tiny perfection. Buffy snuggled happily against him, both arms clinging around his waist, unaware of the restraint he was practising.
"Spike?" she murmured sleepily.
"Hmmm?"
"I didn't mean it. When I said I hated you."
"I know, ducks."
"Spike?"
"What is it, baby?"
"I think I like...sleeping with you."
"That's good, pet. May as well get used to it from now on. Here, give us a kiss, and go to sleep."
She obeyed him; but then said in a faint whisper, "Spike?"
"Yeah, luv?"
"Would you...really...spank me?"
"Oh, I'm looking forward to it, kitten."
She giggled again, then he heard the soft steady breathing that told him she was asleep.
He shook his head, wondering what was going on with him. He was marooned in the stronghold of his deadliest enemies; and the most dangerous of all was cuddling shamelessly against him! And- he wanted her so much he thought it would kill him!
Most curious of all, for the first time in his life, he was completely happy.
For no reason, except that it felt so natural, he dropped a kiss on her hair, then closed his eyes.
In another wing, on another floor,
a man and woman lay twined together in the aftermath of their
love-making.
She stirred uneasily; and he kissed her red mouth, trying
to lull her fears.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be," he responded. "Just
remember- by tomorrow this will all be over."
"Yes," she conceded. " I made the deal
with the vampire, offered him the Slayer."
"And?" he prompted.
"He could barely conceal his eagerness," she said
smugly. "He can't wait to add another Slayer to his
record."
"You've done well, my love."
"All for you, Nigel darling."
He looked at her enigmatically. "I'm well aware of
everything you've done for me, Blodwen."
In the library below, Elspeth Blackwood stared into the
fire, and considered her options.
She had led the Watchers Council for half a century...and done an
exemplary job, on the whole. Yet now, every day, she could
feel her stamina failing. At a generous estimate, she had perhaps
a year...one short year, in which to choose her successor and
teach him to follow in her path.
A year was not nearly enough time...
She'd given her life to the Watchers. Oh, she'd had a rich,
full life, by any reckoning...there'd been two marriages, four
children,...even a lover ...but now, in her ninetieth year, for
the first time she felt afraid. Not of dying, but of
leaving her legacy in the wrong hands. The legacy for
which she'd planned and schemed, bartered and bargained....she
thought she saw clearly what it was she must do....but still, the
fear lingered.
Elspeth summoned her car. Even after so long a time, she
knew the route well- could have followed it if she'd been
blindfolded.
The rose garden hadn't changed; she had, and so had the man
who walked beside her, but the roses stayed the same.
"I've decided." Elspeth's voice was abrupt.
"And?" he asked calmly.
She told him.
"I will need your help," she added softly.
He considered a moment. "Agreed. And
...after?"
She shook her head, as indomitable as ever. "The
answer is still no."
He was amused; but not surprised.
When she left, near dawn, she carried with her an armful of
roses.
Giles found it impossible to sleep. The Tavistock Hotel,
plain though it was, was comfortable enough; but his mind
was a turmoil of images that would not let him rest.
The early days....vacationing on the Cornish coast. Tales
of King Arthur took on an immediacy there, as told by his
grandmother. Then school...distinguishing himself. A
place at Trinity, amid the stunning beauty that was Oxford.
His father, a Watcher like his grandmother, had sought to make
him feel the sacredness of his destiny, but he'd been
rebellious. The Crisis that had sent him to
London...to that first meeting with Ethan; and that impulse
to reach for power- even dark power.
Disaster....the long black madness that had twisted his soul,
that he frequently felt had ruined his life.
Return to grace...to the path that had been preordained...hewing
to it, until his duty had become his passion. His Watcher's
mission had meant all in all to him....until that unexpected day
in which they'd sent him to California to mentor the Slayer.
And life had begun....
Spike awakened, instantly aware of
another presence in the bed...there was a small hand on his
chest...he looked at it through eyes that opened reluctantly into
slits. His gaze followed the hand up an arm, to a lovely
back, a small golden head burrowing under his chin...
"Sod it all," Spike said weakly. Reality
washed over him as the full severity of his predicament
dawned- a vampire, in bed with a Slayer, in the
headquarters of the Watchers Council!
He groaned aloud, and his companion stirred.
"Uhhhh...wha?...Ow, my head!"
Buffy moaned and rolled over onto her back.
"Spike," she whimpered, "head hurts."
His lips pressed together; last night he'd thought a
vicious hangover was only what she had coming, but in the cold
light of day he was aware of a tenderness that wanted to take her
discomfort away.
"Pet..." he began.
Her eyes widened abruptly. With a muffled cry, Buffy leaped
out of bed and dashed for the bathroom. She flung open the
massive wooden latch frantically, and rushed in.
The walls in the Council House were thick; but not so that
Spike couldn't identify the sounds coming from the next
room. He grimaced in sympathy, then started pulling on his
clothes. Not that he was going anywhere...at least not
until sundown. Still, they'd slept well into the
afternoon; odd that no one had come to check on the Slayer.
The Slayer...Buffy. Well, he'd get used to that, he
supposed.
A very unhappy Slayer came back into the room, crossed to the
wardrobe, and grabbed a pair of jeans and a soft pink
sweater. She yanked them on in record time, keeping her
back turned firmly towards him.
Spike felt a faint uneasiness. "Kitten?"
He pulled at her arm and she turned around.
To his horror tears were spilling from her green eyes.
"Slay...Buffy! What's the matter?"
Shaken, he pulled her into his arms, murmuring soothing words
that somehow failed to quieten her.
"You must think I'm such a loser!" Buffy wailed,
crying harder.
"Why? Because you had a few pints too many? That
was my fault, luv, I should have looked after you better.
Now, dry your eyes."
"But...I ruined it...our first night together!"
Spike's jaw dropped; then, he couldn't help it...he started
to laugh.
She stared at him in disbelief that soon turned to smoldering
resentment. "Don't laugh at me! Don't you
laugh!" she flared. "Oooh...I hate..."
"I know, pet," he chortled. "You hate
me! And, it was myself I was laughing at...I thought you'd
hate me if I shagged you while you were under the influence...and
now you hate me because I didn't!"
Her tears came again; this time he simply picked her up and
sat down with her on the bed, rubbing her back until her sobbing
stopped.
"All done?" he asked calmly.
She sniffled, and nodded.
"Good. Now, pay attention. We're going to finish
up our business here; and then you and I, and Giles I suppose,
are going home to Sunnyhell. Where you will start
college...Giles will resume his duties as your Watcher...and I
will terrorize the populace."
Buffy had been listening quietly; but now she raised her little
blond head and glared at him.
"Just kidding, cutie! I can tell I'll have to clean up
my act, if you're going to be my girl."
"Am I?" Her voice was barely audible.
"Oh yes. No use debating that, luv. It's all
settled."
She managed a wavery smile. "Are you sure,
Spike?"
He thought of a dozen flip responses; but instead he simply
said, "Yes."
Her mouth fascinated him; he captured it with his, kissing
her long and deeply. When he finally broke the kiss and
looked into her eyes, he saw that her sparkle was back.
He grinned down at her. "Feeling better, luv?"
Buffy made a face. "Uh-huh...except my head still
aches."
Tenderly, he smoothed back her hair. "Serves you
right!"
"Spike!" Buffy pouted. "You can't love
me!"
"I don't," he purred, "I violently
dislike you!"
But she couldn't answer; he was kissing her again and she
had no breath left.
When he finally paused, she sighed happily, "I can't
wait to go home...together!"
"We'd better arrange another meet with Giles; and I'm
supposed to see Blodwen before the trial begins."
"Spike?" Buffy asked hesitantly.
"Hmmm?" His absorption with her mouth had
extended to her ear...she had such pretty little ears, delicate
as seashells.
"Don't you think that Blodwen is...very beautiful?"
"Bloody smashing." He caught the expression on
her face, and burst out laughing. "Don't tell me
you're jealous!"
Buffy sighed. "Nooo, but...I bet SHE wouldn't get
drunk in the pub!"
She looked despondent, so then Spike had to kiss her again.
He could have told her why Blodwen's beauty left him cold;
why no other woman mattered to him now, nor ever would again.
But he was still hesitant about admitting something that would
have seemed incredible a year ago. Besides, they'd have
plenty of time, when they were home once more, for him to say all
of the things he needed to tell her...
He allowed himself a final kiss, then set her gently on her
feet. "Giles," he reminded.
Buffy was rummaging through her things.
"Aspirin," she said, producing a small bottle.
"I'll get you some water for those, pet, " Spike
promised, heading into the bathroom. He filled the glass,
started back...then paused.
The walls were thick, but he was a vampire.
"Spike?" Buffy appeared in the opening.
"What's wrong?"
"I smell blood." Spike faced the opposite wall.
Buffy bit her lip. "That's...Stefania's room."
But he was already forcing the door.
Stefania lay on her back, arms
outstretched to form a cross.
Blood was clotted around the wooden stake driven through her
heart; it soaked the bed, the Persian rug, the parquet
floor.
Even her long fair hair....
Buffy started to shake. "She's...she was...a
Searcher. They're the ones who look for information in the
records, in archives...she told me she liked that better because
the Watchers saw too much action sometimes...as a Searcher, she
felt...safe."
Her tears spilled over on the final word; and he
automatically put both arms around her, holding her close...as if
his strength could keep the horror on the bed from touching them.
***************************************************************************
Rupert Giles marched resolutely up the drive; and let
himself into the Council House.
In the grey light of dawn he'd come to a conclusion...he would no
longer leave Buffy in the hands of his former colleagues.
Either he would remain with her, in their headquarters...or she
was leaving with him. He had lost most of the things he
loved- but this child-woman yet remained to him; and
he was resolved not to abandon her.
There was a large room in the rear that had been prepared for the
trial; but Giles didn't pause. Instead he made for the
grand staircase and started up to the Slayer's Tower...he'd gone
half-way when he heard his name.
He turned to face Elspeth; and a lifetime of memories rose
between them and brought them to a momentary silence.
As always, she found her voice first. "Come into the
library."
As always, he did her bidding.
"I came to see Buffy; I need to know she's all
right," Giles said immediately, not troubling with any
social amenities.
"Don't worry, Rupert, she's in good hands," Elspeth
said calmly. "Not precisely hands the Council would
approve, but since when have you sought approval?"
He drew in his breath anxiously. "You...know about
Spike?"
"I know many things." She turned abruptly,
crossed to him, and placed one wizened hand on his
shoulder. "Why haven't you come to see me before
now?"
"I didn't know if I'd be welcome," he said
bitterly.
Giles expected a sharp response; instead, she told him,
"Oh, my dear...no one could ever be more welcome to
me! No one."
Elspeth patted his shoulder gently. "I've missed you,
Rupert."
Giles' stern face softened for the first time.
"And I've missed you...Grandmother."
"Faith did this,"
Buffy told Spike, keeping one hand on his arm. "She
once killed the Mayor's assistant the same way. But, why
would she kill Stefania?"
"Because your door was locked, luv," Spike
supplied, tightening his embrace.
"Faith...is totally gone," Buffy said
sadly.
"I don't think so, Buffy," Nigel Chang said
coldly.
Spike and Buffy jerked around to see him in the doorway-
levelling a crossbow.
"Don't move, Slayer," Nigel warned. "I
couldn't miss at this range; and a bolt could kill you as
easily as your demon lover."
Blodwen stepped into the room behind Nigel. "Well,
Spike," she grinned evilly, "no wonder you
weren't tempted when I offered to give you the Slayer; she
was already yours!"
"But you'll both pay for this," Nigel added
complacently, "once we inform the Council what your pet
vampire has done!"
"No!" Buffy protested. "Spike didn't
do this, and what's more, you know it!"
Nigel smirked at her. "I don't think anyone will
believe that, do you, Slayer? Let's go!"
***************************************************************************
The large room at the back of the house could easily hold three
hundred; less than half that number were assembled, and yet the
room reeked of power. At one end was a raised platform that
held an ornate chair; and there sat Quentin Travers.
To his left was Faith, staring blankly into space. But
something flickered in her dark eyes when she looked up and saw
Buffy.
Quentin listened impassively to Nigel's indictment of
Spike; but Buffy would have none of that.
"That is SUCH a lie," she hissed.
"Do you deny you have a vampire lover?" Blodwen
demanded.
Buffy met her eyes defiantly. "Actually, we're not
lovers yet! It would be more accurate to call Spike my
boyfriend."
Spike glanced at her in pleased surprise. He knew that
things had changed between them, of course...but he hadn't
expected that she would publicly claim him as her
boyfriend. He felt a swelling of pride....
"It's clear neither Slayer is fit for duty,"
Quentin said pompously, pursing his lips.
"And the vampire?" Blodwen prompted.
"Why waste time on his kind?" Quentin
shrugged. "Kill him, Nigel."
"Oh, I will, " Nigel retorted, "but not on
your order, Travers! You've made a mess of everything
you've tried to do here; you aren't fit to lead the
Council!"
"I'm senior Watcher," Quentin began.
"You are." Elspeth's voice cracked like a
whip. "But I am...and will remain until my death...the
Head of the Council."
She swept into the room like an empress on a royal procession;
and all of those assembled faltered in the face of her authority.
"Of course, Elspeth," Nigel said
soothingly. "No one disputes that."
"But you're hoping it won't be prolonged? Little good
will it do you, Nigel. I've already selected my
successor- and it isn't you!"
Quentin smiled fatuously. "Of course not! Nigel
is too young; and too impulsive! While I..."
"Am a cold fish," Elspeth concluded.
"By all means, Quentin- but I wouldn't boast about it,
if I were you."
There was the sound of stifled laughter; Elspeth stepped up
to her chair, staring Quentin down. He broke rather
quickly, stumbling to his feet and moving aside.
Serenly, like a queen enthroned , Elspeth seated
herself. "It's past time I named my successor, if
these are the kinds of machinations some of you get up to.
The next Head is some one all of you know...."
Elspeth lifted her head; and her voice rang out proudly.
"My grandson...Rupert Giles!"
"Never!" Nigel Chang screamed. "He's as much a renegade as that Slayer!"
He swung the crossbow up, pointing straight at Giles; and
in that one action, stood condemned in the eyes of every Watcher
and Searcher present.
Blodwen understood that first, and leaped up behind
Elspeth. In her hand she held a straight razor- and
pressed it against the old woman's thin neck.
"Slayer," She ordered Buffy. "First
kill the vampire!"
Buffy looked at her, then at Giles, and felt despair. There
was no way she could save all three- Spike, Giles, and
Elspeth- and Blodwen knew it. Her grip tightened on
Elspeth's shoulder as she dragged the old woman backward.
Buffy launched herself full force at Spike, the momentum carrying
them across the room toward the long bay window...they crashed
through in a shatter of glass onto the lawn...in the waning
afternoon.
Into the rain...the glorious London rain....
Spike opened his eyes, his head in the Slayer's lap.
"Oh God...I'm sorry, Spike! I could see the clouds
over your shoulder; but it must have been horrible for
you..."
"Later, love!" He managed a shaky laugh as he
scrambled to his feet, pulling her with him. "Right
now we have urgent business to attend to!"
"No. I do." The quiet cultured voice
made Spike and Buffy freeze in their tracks.
Master Tao stood behind them...and slowly lifted his hand.
Vampires closed on the Council House from all directions...
And Elspeth Blackwood, razor at her throat, screamed "Come
in!"
Buffy hurled herself back into the room, to be met by a scene of
chaos.
Giles and Nigel Chang were locked in a struggle for the
crossbow...and Nigel slammed Giles across the face, sending him
reeling into Quentin Travers.
Nigel fired one bolt...it caught Quentin right in the left eye,
and he went down, twitched once, and was still. Giles
threw himself to one side as Nigel loosed the second bolt-
it barely missed. Then Nigel was rushing at Giles...but it
was Ripper who suddenly surfaced to close with the other
Watcher...
"Stop!" screamed Blodwen, "Or I'll cut her
throat!"
Then Elspeth's frail hands caught Blodwen's wrist...they stumbled
back...
And a spark from the great roaring fireplace fell like a red
snowflake on Blodwen's filmy white dress....
Instantly she was ablaze!
She wrenched free from Elspeth and ran howling towards Nigel,
trailing flames and sparks behind her. And where she ran,
she left a burning trail...
The velvet curtains caught; and then the upholstered
furniture. Everywhere the room filled with cries as Watchers and
vampires alike fled the inferno.
Spike stared desperately through the thickening smoke, seeking
the Slayer....
In all the turmoil, Faith had been
forgotten; and now she made her move, grabbing a makeshift
stake and selecting her target.
Nigel fought frantically to throw Blodwen off, but her grasp was
a stranglehold. Together they crashed through the shattered
windows...
"Buffy!" Spike yelled her name.
" Where's Giles?" She was gasping against the
suffocating smoke. "I can't find..."
"I'm here," Giles was suddenly beside them,
supporting the inert form of his grandmother. "Spike,
get Buffy out quickly!"
"Right!" He caught the Slayer's hand... vampires
were blocking the windows but there was the side door...
"Not so fast." Faith stood in front of the exit,
clutching the stake. She looked only at Buffy, smiling
serenely at her former partner.
"Too bad you locked your door last night, B...I had to
settle for the other dumb blonde! Guess you were busy
boinking the undead as usual."
"Faith," Buffy said desperately, "let the
others out, and it'll be you and me! That's what you
want- one on one...."
"Wrong!" Faith's dark eyes glittered.
"I want...you to pay, Buff. I want you to lose
everything, just like me! I want...you!"
She lunged with her makeshift stake, but not at Buffy.
Instead she aimed at Spike; but in those last wrenching seconds
Buffy guessed her intention.
Spike felt the drag of Buffy's hand from his as she fell...the
wooden stake buried deep in her heart...the stake that had been
meant for him.
He shouted her name as she went down, scant inches from
freedom....
"Spike..." her voice was a thread, but he heard it
clearly. "Giles...help..."
Dimly he knew that Giles was struggling desperately with a
maddened Faith; but he didn't care. Everything he cared
about was there in his arms....
"Please," she begged; and he remembered
that he'd once told her, "You don't seem like the begging
kind...."
He couldn't deny her; he set her gently down; and
launched himself at Faith.
She still retained her Slayer powers; and she fought him
with a savagery he'd never encountered before. Spike felt
the wounds that Faith inflicted; but he didn't let them stop
him. He kept coming, the sheer force of his will a match
for her madness...
His blood dripped between them as vampire and Slayer faced each
other...
"You must really love that girl, Spike," Faith
taunted, "since you're so eager to join her. You
all that keen to die?"
"No." With the last of his strength, he brought
his hands up and cupped her head, holding her like a vise.
"You...die, instead!"
She smiled at him in disbelief. "I'll tell B....it's
five by five!"
Spike snapped her neck.
He stumbled out, searching for her...
She was lying in the grass where Giles had carried her and
Elspeth.....it was Elspeth who knelt beside Buffy now, stroking
her golden hair while Giles sobbed on the ground.
"No," Spike said aloud, "don't do
that; her hair's getting wet in all this bloody
rain..."
"Spike." Giles was fighting to say the words.
"No." Spike shook his head firmly.
"She can't stay here, she's getting wet." He
staggered towards Elspeth. "Give her to me... I'll
take care of her....she's mine...mine, mine, MINE!"
A dark shadow beside Elspeth moved forward swiftly, interposing
himself between Spike and the Slayer.
"Get out of my way," the blond vampire snarled.
Master Tao said nothing; but shadowy figures closed around Spike,
dragging him back.
And the last thing he heard was the sound of Giles weeping;
and the last thing he saw was Elspeth, still smoothing back the
blonde hair from the beautiful dead face.
It was then that Spike began to scream.
He sat huddled in a
wing-back chair in Master Tao's study, staring bleakly into
space.
A decanter of fresh blood sat on a table nearby; but he did
not touch it. He wasn't hungry. He wasn't anything,
really- he felt numb inside, like everything had shut
down. Once, when Drusilla had left him, he'd felt a shell
of himself, but he'd still been sore and suffering.
But not this time. This time there was nothing like
that. This time there was ...nothing.
Since her death, he hadn't said a word.
"Spike?" Master Tao waited until slowly he lifted
his head. "You have a visitor."
Spike regarded him with indifference. the only person who'd
come was Giles; and he had no wish to see the new Head of
Council.
But it was Elspeth Blackwood who hobbled into the room.
"I came to thank you for your help," she said
softly. She glanced at Master Tao. "Both of
you."
It was Master Tao who responded. "What will you do
now, Elspeth?"
"Help my grandson. He is devastated over the loss of
his Slayer."
"Why?" Spike spoke at last, not bothering to
conceal his bitterness. "That's what becomes of
Slayers- they die! He knows that!"
Master Tao frowned; but Elspeth said calmly, "Oh yes, he
knows. But he can't accept it, any more than you can.
He loved her too."
The words, so gentle yet matter-of-fact, twisted in his heart
like a wooden stake.
He had never told her he loved her! How could
he...when he'd barely begun to accept it himself?
Elspeth was still talking. "Nigel Chang and Blodwen
are missing; but their injuries must have been terrible- they
won't survive them. Stefania's body has been sent back to
her people; and Faith will be buried here, in London.
She never really belonged anywhere, poor thing."
Spike didn't react; he simply didn't care about the
others.
Elspeth took a deep breath. "My grandson thought that
perhaps Buffy..."
"I'll take her home." Somehow Spike knew that
Buffy would want to go back to Sunnyhe...Sunnydale. It was
what they'd planned, before...
Pain stabbed him in a blinding flash- better the stake than
this.
Master Tao intervened. "I've already made the
arrangements." He hesitated, then continued.
"I'll make my farewells to the both of you now. I'm going
away for a few days...to St. Albans."
"Why St. Albans?" Elspeth was preparing to take
her leave.
"It's the headquarters of the Royal National Rose
Society," the vampire master replied. "I've
concluded that I was wrong...to sneer at the hybrids. They
combine the best of the old favorites with the health and vigor
of the modern breeds..."
Spike closed his eyes and wished himself anywhere else.
Why can't they just...go? He asked himself, "Just leave, and
let me be alone...to think about loving her? I didn't even
get to hold her as she died...was she afraid? Did she call
for me?"
"...amazing how they can grow from the smallest seed...the
merest spark of life, and blossom into new beauty."
"Spike?" Master Tao waited until he looked
up. "Why don't you take a final look at my
garden? I think you'll like what you see."
Wearily the blond vampire lurched to his feet. Anything,
rather than listen to the banal chatter one more minute...
He stopped, paralyzed, in the doorway, unable to move, unable to
speak- staring at the stone bench under the rose arbor....
Where she lay.
Her golden hair shone in the moonlight; and as he watched,
she stirred slightly...almost as if she was anticipating his
kiss...
He ran.
Then she was in his arms, eyes opening, one hand lifting
delicately to caress his cheek...
Elspeth turned startled eyes to Master Tao.
"How...?"
"There was a tiny spark left," he answered
serenely. "And I'm skilled in the ways of my
kind. Spike...well, he will be worthy of my youngest
childe, don't you agree? A former Slayer makes a hybrid
vampire...one with a soul. But as I've told you, Elspeth, I
have a new-found appreciation for hybrids."
She took one last look at the young couple embracing in the
moonlit garden, and turned slowly away.
"The hybrid I wish to acquire at St. Albans,"
Master Tao said softly, "is called 'Lovers Meeting'-
very apropos, don't you think?'
Elspeth shook her head; but her mouth curved into a reluctant
smile. "I think..."
"Yes?"
"You... are a romantic, Richard!"
The old man smiled, and handed her a rose.
