Rupert Giles stood outside the crypt, halfway between the door and the first row of tombstones but facing neither, as though he'd been pacing around in a circle. His hair was mussed from running his hands through it and the man looked downright… twitchy. The watcher's ruffled presence signified one of two things: that, a.) there was an enormous, apocalyptically bad problem or, b.) that Buffy had filled Rupert in about Charlie's family ties to the teacher and he was feeling overly sentimental on the probable eve of battle. Either way, Spike didn't feel like dealing with it.
"Thought Red said you'd be holed up at the daycare center you call a retail shop, overseein' the big fireworks spell that's gonna knock out Bleak's personal savin's." Spike leaned heavily against the doorjamb and hoped that if he put enough scorn into his tone, that Rupert would leave the merry way he came.
Giles turned back towards the crypt, looking uncomfortable as he took a few hesitant steps forward. Well, bugger. "Yes, actually I am. I was," he said, looking distractedly at the foliage, "Did you do something with the shrubbery around your crypt? It looks… well kempt."
"Out with it, Rupes," Spike said, losing what little patience he had, "What are you skulkin' about for?"
The watcher scratched his arm. "Um, this is rather awkward, but I need you to do something for me."
There was a long pause, in which Spike waited for… something. A punchline, perhaps. An explanation. A sodding bribe would have been appreciated, even if it was just a Get-Out-Of-A-Staking free card for the next time he was caught doing something that wasn't on the slayer's list of acceptable vampire behavior. "Is this the part where you pull out your wallet, or do you think I'm doin' you a favor outta the kindness of my cold, dead heart?"
"Neither, actually. I need you to go get the Hepetalium stone for the coffer destroying spell from an old business associate of mine."
Spike blinked at him, unsure for a moment if he'd understood the request correctly. "And you thought it'd be a nice change of pace to farm out an errand boy to fetch your trinkets? Get it yourself, Watcher. If there's a fight… that I can fight in… come find me." Spike turned and began to shut the door.
"Well, that's just it," Giles said hurriedly, putting a hand out to stop the door from closing and disregarding the muscle that was tightening in Spike's jaw. "I can't go get it myself. He refuses to do business with me, and I need everyone else at the shop doing preparations for the spell. Mostly everyone, that is."
Spike narrowed his eyes at the watcher, growing increasingly annoyed at the lack of details and expectation that Spike would just drop whatever he was doing to be a team player. "And just why would this savvy businessman not want to square his deals with an upstandin' member of society such as yourself?"
"I… I… might have called him a money-grabbing maggot weasel, and swore I'd never do business with him again."
"You fiend." Spike's face split with a mocking grin.
"He was trying to stiff me on a shipment of newt eyes for the store!" Giles said indignantly.
"Poor Watcher. You might need to grovel at his feet. Shame I'll be too busy not bein' there to watch it happen."
Just as Spike was about to attempt to close the door for a second time, the sound of light footsteps echoed on the concrete behind him, and he could almost hear the sound of his planned evening of debauchery slowly evaporating into the ozone.
"Oh, hey Giles!" Charlie said brightly, placing her hands on Spike's arms and pressing her chin against his shoulder so she could see out the narrow opening in the door.
"Oh. Oh, um, hello. Charlie," the watcher stuttered, slipping off his glasses and wiping his forehead briefly with the back of his hand. Spike then realized that there was another reason for the watcher's odd behavior besides his untimely need of a favor. Seemed like Buffy had informed Giles of Charlie's relationship to the teacher. Spike hadn't realized it was possible for the man to get any more awkward, but apparently he still had miles to go.
"Thought I told you not to move." Spike glanced irritably at the brunette peeking out from behind him.
"You did," she replied, raising an entertained eyebrow at him when he gave her a look that asked why she'd ignored his request. "Sorry, master, but the Sire-Progeny contract clearly states that I don't have to take orders between the hours of noon and midnight on weekdays and weekends. What are we talking about? This looks serious."
"Rupes here wants to send me on a ramble to the magical five-and-dime because he's not allowed to shop there anymore."
Giles let out a noise akin to a clucking hen. "Must you make everything sound so disagreeable?! I'm merely asking that you to walk to a house and pick up an ingredient that we need."
"I think we can handle a shopping list of one item, Spike," Charlie said. "Where are we going?"
With a sigh, Spike released his grip on the door, opening it wide so the Charlie could freely converse with the man outside. Reaching into his pants pocket, Giles pulled out a slip of blue-lined paper, and handed it to to the girl. Spike glanced down at the note as she unfolded it, though he could barely read the cramped handwritten address and comments regarding the stone, even with his enhanced vampire sight. It looked like the watcher had written it with an ink-dipped sewing pin.
Charlie frowned at the paper for a moment and stuffed it into her pocket. Apparently she was going, and since Spike wasn't about to let her do anything that even glimmered of Bleakgrave without backup, he supposed he'd be going by default. "So who is this guy?" she asked.
"He's had to change his name and location so many times due to angry customers that I'm not certain what he's calling himself these days," Giles replied.
"Sounds like a piece of work," Spike commented drolly. "I like him already."
"And you thought it was a good idea to do business with someone like that?" Charlie asked, looking dubiously at the sensible shop owner that prided himself on his logic and practicality.
"Well, the market for rare magical items was limited to local sellers until eBay came along," Giles explained, "and even then, I don't always have many options. The Hepetalium stone looks a little like citrine, by the way, very glassy and clear, lemony yellow. Make sure he doesn't try to give you something cheaper."
Charlie nodded, animatedly drumming her fingers against the side of her leg. "I know what they look like actually, I've seen them before."
"Yes, yes of course," the watcher mumbled, blanching again. "He'll probably try to swindle you out of more, but it shouldn't be more than thirty or so. Just in case..." Giles pulled out a generous stack of folded bills and handed it to Charlie.
Spike regarded the currency slipping into the pocket of Charlie's jeans with sudden interest. A few packs of smokes might be in his future if they haggled well. "Sure you don't need anythin' else if there's leftover funds, Watcher? Some doilies for your table, perhaps? Enchanted tea set?" His eyes flickered over Rupert's attire for the evening. "A sweater that doesn't resemble a carpet?"
"Yes, very amusing Spike. You can keep the change if it makes you feel better, and perhaps you should use it towards the purchase of a nice, comfortable couch to sleep on." The thinly veiled threat came at him out of the blue, and Spike knew for certain that the watcher was all sorts of filled in on the Kalderash Situation. Fortunately, Charlie seemed too preoccupied with her own thoughts to question the content of the retort.
And while he wasn't worried to the point of treating Giles, or Buffy, or any of the Scoobies with anything resembling respect, Spike realized that he needed to tread carefully as far as his actions went. A word from anyone on the subject would be enough to send his charade of No Previous Kalderash Involvement spectacularly to the ground, and he wasn't ready to handle it. Yet.
"And Charlie, I… there's something that we should discuss... " the words on the watcher's lips faded as he whipped his head in the direction of the sound of the loud, crunching footsteps that were headed towards the crypt. "Ah, but I suppose it can wait for now. Xander! Right on time!"
It was raining slightly when three purposeful figures set out towards Jefferson Road. The drizzle wasn't so heavy that it left puddles on the ground, but it was just enough to leave a film of moisture on everything and make Spike even more grouchy than he already was.
Adding to the unenjoyable ambiance, the pungent scent of garlic and onion that was wafting out of the bag of chips in Xander's hand was only slightly less obnoxious than the deafening way the boy ate them. Even Charlie looked as though she would rather be walking on the opposite sidewalk.
"So explain to me again what the plan is," Xander demanded, wiping his greasy fingers on his pants, and Spike wondered who had the misfortune of doing his laundry.
Spike cocked an eyebrow at him, purposely speeding up his gait in the hopes that the Scooby might choke if he tried to eat and walk quickly at the same time. "Need me to draw you a diagram, Whelp?"
"Actually, yes, that would be immensely helpful," Xander said, popping another three chips into his mouth at once. "Why don't you whip some paper out of your overly enormous coat and get going on that."
"Sure thing mate, but it might take a few days to draw it out for the likes of you. And I'm fresh outta crayons." Spike flashed a snide grin when Xander glared at him.
Charlie moved to the other side of Spike, effectively becoming a physical barrier between the bickering pair. "We're just meeting with this guy that Giles knows, and buying a Hepetalium stone from him," she explained patiently to Xander. "Apparently he's kind of an ass, and Giles pissed him off last time so he won't do business with him."
"Well, yeah, I got that part. I just don't understand what I'm needed for."
"Ask myself that question on a daily basis. Still haven't got it figured," Spike muttered, feeling around in his pocket for his pack of smokes. He lit a cigarette, and puffed on it as he waited for the skies to inevitably open up and snuff out what little enjoyment he was gleaning, par for the course of how the night seemed to be going.
"I believe, and I'm quoting Giles directly here, that the safety and sanity of everyone currently prepping for the spell at the Magic Box depends on you being here with us." Charlie sent a slightly guilty, somewhat amused smile in the boy's direction.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Xander asked.
Spike barked out a laugh, smoke billowing out of his mouth as though he were a delighted dragon. "Means you're annoyin' the shit outta them and they can't bloody concentrate. Oh, Watcher, you do amuse me so."
Xander stopped walking, his thick eyebrows pulling together. "Giles probably just didn't trust you with the Hepatitis stone," he said, sounding more sure of himself than he probably was.
"I think we'll need to stop at the pharmacy for some hardcore antibiotics if he's acting as buyer," Charlie murmured quietly to Spike as Xander tipped his head back and shook remainder of the chip crumbs into his mouth.
Smirking in response, Spike threw his arm around her as they turned down Thousand Oaks Drive, and she leaned her head against the dryness of his t-shirt. Running errands for the white hats was about as low as it got for a vamp who was once considered the Big Bad, but the solid weight pressed against his side was enough to ease most of the irritation of the situation.
Tossing his empty bag of chips into a trash receptacle by a park bench, Xander caught back up and watched the pair of vampires with no small amount of interest. "So you two are really a thing, huh?"
Spike batted his eyes at the Scooby and gave him an ironic smile, as he pulled Charlie a little closer. "That a problem with you, Harris?"
"No, no. I'm just trying to picture it… a hundred years from now… living in some basement apartment, Charlie's working two dead end jobs trying to afford enough money to pay for pig's blood for your seventeen vampire children, rent's due, the refrigerator keeps breaking..."
"You miss the class about the blood and the bees, mate? The only way you get seventeen undead ankle-biters is if you eat an orphanage." Spike thought about it, and looked down at the girl tucked under his arm, "Which we could do. If you wanted…." He wasn't remotely serious, especially since the Annoying One had been the most vexatious thing he'd ever had to put up with, but he did enjoy getting a rise out of her.
"Children that never grow up? I've seen Interview with the Vampire. No thanks," Charlie snorted, turning to arch an eyebrow at Xander. "And dare I ask, where's Spike in this thrilling prediction?"
"He got busted for trying to sell monster eggs on the black market, so vampire jail. Or he's dust, probably from saying something sarcastic at the wrong time."
Spike had always planned on going out in a blaze of glory, either fighting a slayer in an epic battle, or… no. Fighting a slayer in an epic battle was pretty much the only way he wanted to dust. Still, even he had to admit that there was more than one occasion that his running mouth had almost ended his unlife, though there were just as many occasions where he'd been able to talk his way out of a dustpan.
"Can I at least have a nice vacation home in southern Italy?" Charlie pulled herself away from Spike to aim a finger at the bogus, garlic-breathed clairvoyant. "That future is the worst, Xander."
"It's not that bad! There'll totally be flying cars by then," Xander pointed out.
Charlie rested her hands on her hips, half-heartedly scowling at him, but Spike could tell by her tone that she was enjoying the sibling-like back and forth. "You're fired as fortune teller."
"Like you can do better," Xander scoffed. "Actually, you probably could do better, being from a gypsy clan family and all. Miss Calendar never read my fortune though, just told me if I didn't stop hanging out in the computer room during third period she'd make me do the homework. Which, as it turned out, was a very accurate prediction."
Spike desperately moved his lips in a silent bid to get Xander's attention, failing miserably since the Scooby had all of a sudden taken a fixed interest in an episode of Boy Meets World lit up on a television screen in a living room window they were passing by. Spike decided that he'd far rather act out his own episode of Boy Meets Oncoming Car.
"Who's Miss Calendar?" Charlie asked, and Spike made a last ditch effort to shut Xander up, savagely waving his arms behind Charlie's head, and finally giving Harris the two fingered salute and tossing the stubby end of his cigarette at him when he still didn't look Spike's way. The chip in his brain fired in mild protest.
"Jenny. Oh, I keep forgetting that wasn't her real name! Janna. You know, your aunt… that Giles told you about…" Xander's voice grew timid as his eyes turned back to Charlie and then finally flicked onto Spike's irate face, "because Giles said he was going to tell you…"
Charlie brought the walk to a grinding halt, gripping Xander's forearms with a force that was sure to leave bruises. "Janna was here? And you knew she was my aunt? Why hasn't anyone told me? Where is she?"
"Um, no, yes, because Buffy only just found and we were waiting for Giles to talk to you… and what was the last question again? Also, oww, vamp strength."
"Sorry," she said, loosening her grasp, but losing none of the trepidation that was written across her face. "Where's Janna?"
"I'm really not the person that you should be hearing this from… but there was a... um… an accident," Xander's eyes met Spike's again, noticeably unsure of what to say. Spike raised his eyebrows in expectation and crossed his arms against his chest. Xander was the one to blow the lid off the big secret, Xander would be the one who got to tell the sorry tale.
"Sort of an accident," Xander continued nervously, "There was this whole thing with… pelvises… and Angel temporarily losing his soul, and Jenny, uh, Janna, was pulled in as… collateral damage. I'm sorry, it really should have been Giles to tell you this. He's better with things like… words."
"Angel, as in my grandsire, Angel?"
Spike nodded when Charlie directed her question at him. "Tall, Dark, and Tiresome has a bit of a mean streak when he's not feelin' soulful."
"Do I want details?" she asked, and Spike brought to mind the night Angelus had come home, gloating about his game of cat and mouse with the terrified teacher in the empty high school. Charlie seemed to read the thoughts running through his head, and her face hardened into a cool mask as she refocused her attention straight ahead of her.
"You alright, kitten?"
Charlie blew out a long breath, and began walking again, Spike and Xander following suit behind her. "No. It's been years since I last heard from her, and I made my peace a long time ago that she was gone." Then she let out a string of creative expletives, some combinations of which Spike had never even heard before. "But Angel? Why the fuck is he living it up in a hotel in L.A. like nothing happened? And why didn't Buffy tell me right away?"
"Buffy wanted to let Giles know first," Xander explained. "Him and Jenny were sort of together, and I think Buff was worried that Giles would have an aneurysm or something if she didn't break it to him with the slowness of Gachnar walking through peanut butter. And then Giles wanted to talk to you before anyone else did, so no points for Xander tonight. As for the Angel thing… yeah, I'm with you there."
"Janna and Giles? This is so weird, like in a zero-degrees of separation kind of way."
"Yeah, no kidding. Uh, not to change the subject, but is that 742 Jefferson? I think that's our guy's place," Xander noted, pointing to a very normal looking suburban bungalow on the corner.
"Looks like," Charlie said, running her hands over a face a few times. "I guess I'll put my feelings away until later." Unsure of what to say to make it better, Spike reached out to stroke her shoulder. She clutched his hand under hers, and he was gladdened that she didn't seem to be upset with him for not saying anything sooner. Then again, he hadn't exactly implied that he'd known who she was related to.
The three of them ambled past the overgrown hedges in front of the pale grey dwelling and up the cobbled pathway. A floodlight on a sensor attached to the house's tapered columns bathed them in blinding luminescence as they moved up the steps and onto the porch.
Xander squinted at the peep hole on the door. "Do we ring the doorbell? Or is there a secret knock?"
Spike shrugged and pounded his fist heavily against the wood grain. Someone was definitely inside the house. He could hear footsteps and somewhere, someone was blathering on about American football. Spike thumped the door again.
"Christ, take it easy," was the muffled exclamation from behind the entranceway. "That's solid oak you're maiming with your hammer hands." A man opened the door, sending an airborne wave of cheap cologne and Mountain Dew into the night, the very scent of douchebaggery if Spike ever decided to bottle and sell it. The straggly soul patch under his lip didn't really help his case either.
"Dodger?" Charlie's surprised reaction quickly gave way animosity as her eyes began to flare viridian and the tips of her fangs peeked past her lip, though the change didn't seem to register with her. "I really should've guessed it was you."