Human Nature
⸹
Los Angeles
March 2003
⸹
Fred leaned closer to Wesley as Buffy flung open the door of the Hyperion and Spike's lieutenant threw herself inside, smoking a bit. "I thought they were driving?"
Wesley shrugged. "Apparently there was some excitement last night, and Willow wanted to sleep in." Fred was so close he could smell her shampoo. He shifted an inch or so away to compensate. It had been months, but he couldn't help but think of her as Gunn's girlfriend. He shouldn't be thinking of his friend's girlfriend this way. Even though she wasn't. Even though he'd crushed on her first in Pylea.
Buffy smiled at everyone as she looked around the lobby. Connor, Faith standing next to Groo, Wes and Fred, Faith's Watcher, Lorne, Angel in his office with Gunn, and – Spike.
Mornin,' love. He stood from the bottom of the stairs and came to her, his eyes taking her in. You look a treat.
She got a sense of his appreciation – Oh, good, a skirt. Such long legs for a tiny woman. God, her hair is like spun gold in the sunlight – that made her lips curve into a smile. You look good yourself. And I'm not tiny.
Why did Lu come along?
You left your cell. She called last night after patrol to report, so I told her what was going on. She feels like you need a bodyguard.
He snorted. Overprotective bint.
She put out her hand to take his. You inspire it in us. How did it go last night?
He spazzed for a while, then got some sleep. Spike leaned down and kissed her as he let her see enough to satisfy her curiosity. He kissed me, but way less tongue than Faith used on you.
I'm sorry?
Spike grinned. I think he's going to be okay. "Everything ready?"
While they'd been nuzzling each other, the rest of the Sunnydale contingent came in: Oz, Willow, and Tara, who carried a small cooler in one hand. Xander, who had never liked Angel, hadn't come, and Anya never really knew him. "Yeah." Buffy frowned. "Dawn isn't here yet?"
"She texted me when she switched buses. She should be here any minute."
⸹
Dawn stepped off the bus. The stop was just two blocks from the Hyperion; she could see the art deco façade from here. She'd dutifully taken public transportation to the hotel twice this week. Mom wouldn't let her drive to Los Angeles, so she didn't have her car. The other three times she'd visited, she had opened a portal. The temptation to open one this morning had been strong, but her father and Francesca were up before breakfast to be with her on her last morning with them. Dad had a brunch meeting with someone, then he'd be driving her back to Sunnydale. She really wished she could just tell –
Too-strong arms snatched her as she passed an alley, and she was dragged into the shadows with unnatural speed. "You. You've been to the hotel before. Who are you?"
Dawn struggled against the vampire arms holding her more effectively than chains. She could tell what he was because of the smoke still rolling from his hand. His mouth was inches from her neck. Instead of wasting time, she flexed her free right hand and thought five little words.
The portal opened in the middle of the Hyperion's lobby, just shy of the circular couch. The first person to see her standing just on the other side, held prisoner in a stranger's arms, was Connor. He bounded fifteen feet across the lobby, through the portal, and into the alley, his snarl no different from one his father might make. Connor drove his fist against the vampire's temple, his momentum knocking both Dawn and her captor to the ground.
Then he scooped her up in his arms and passed her through the portal to Buffy as he turned back to the task at hand: dismembering the bastard who dared to touch Dawn. He got in three kicks and two punches before the vampire had time to recover from the first blow, then his forearm was caught in a vice.
"Get off me!" he snarled, rounding on Spike.
The blond man stared down at the vampire on the alley floor, his brows drawn together. He didn't remember the git's name, but now he knew why Angel had felt the sense of family hovering on the edges of his awareness. "Bring him to the portal," he told Connor. Turning back to the open door, he saw Angel standing just on the other side, keeping out of the daylight. "It's submarine boy, innit?"
"Lawson," Angel confirmed, his face thunderous. "Please come in."
⸹
Oz and Faith came back into the Hyperion after a few minutes of reconnaissance and joined the group in the basement. Both of them focused hard eyes on the vampire locked in the cage. "He's been staying in an abandoned building about three blocks from here," Oz reported, a troubled look marring his brow.
"He had a roll of this thin, flexible wire on a worktable," Faith reported, her voice bright with fury. "And a vat of acid."
Everyone turned to stare at the vampire standing unnaturally still in the middle of the cell. Luisa, at guard nearest to the cell door, went to game face. Lawson continued his unshakable focus on Angel. "You don't deserve to be here with these people."
"What did you have planned?" Wesley asked, his voice faint.
The prisoner gave Angel a little smile. "So, I was going to take them away from you. Just like you took me away from everything."
Angel shook his head. "That's insane."
"No," Lawson corrected him. "It's evil. Just like you made me."
"Why? After all this time?"
"Because you made me wrong. All this time, all the people I've killed, all the evil I've done, I've felt nothing. You left me nothing. No connection. No passion. What else did I have besides my sire? I've been watching you, checking up on you every ten years or so. You never knew, but I saw what I needed to see. You had no connections, either. No passions. But now… This is the first time you've had anything I could take from you."
Angel felt Connor's horrified eyes fall on him. In his peripheral vision, he saw Dawn slip her hand into his son's, seeking to comfort him after that bleak assessment of his father. It could wait. "Why didn't you just come to me?"
He smiled at Angel with detached malice, such an odd look on his all-American face. "You told me you'd kill me if you ever saw me again. So, you never saw me. But I saw you, saw everything I needed to see."
"You sired Darla."
The smile didn't waver. "I did. I took her from you. Wolfram and Hart paid me, but I would have done it for free."
The growl that rose after this admission came not from Angel, but Connor. Dawn's other hand came up and braced against his chest, Angel saw, keeping him in place. Connor was as tall as she was now, lanky and stretched from the speed at which his bones were growing.
"I knew you really would dust family. Darla told me about how you killed her, how you killed Penn. Pillow talk, you know?" Lawson's smile didn't change, but his eyes were assessing, making sure his revelation hit home. Angel didn't react; it was no surprise when two vampires copulated. "I had no reason to check on you. She said you'd alienated your new friends, but I guess she was wrong about that." For the first time, he looked around at the other people in the dim room.
Spike remembered when he left Lawson, telling him that he already had an Aurelian obsessed with Angelus waiting for him in France. He was standing near Connor and Dawn, ready to intercede if necessary. "You've been obsessed with him for, what, sixty years?" he scoffed. "Nothing better to do?"
Lawson focused on him, something in his eyes flickering. "Nothing I wanted to do. You knew that. Making sure my sire was miserable, though… That was something."
Willow shivered, and Tara put her arm around her waist. "Looks like there was a backup to that no-happiness clause," she whispered to the blond witch.
"It was an easy job," Lawson continued. "Because you are miserable, aren't you? A miserable son of a bitch."
"Can't deny it," Angel said. He felt old and so tired. Sam Lawson hadn't deserved to be turned – not that anyone deserved such a fate, but he'd admired the boy. Angel still didn't know if it was a selfish decision, even if the remaining humans on the submarine had been saved.
Buffy had heard enough. She shook her hair back. "You want me to take care of this for you?" Her voice was kind.
Angel shook his head at the offer. "My problem." He reached out to accept what Buffy was holding out for him, though, and stepped closer to the cell. He rolled the stake in his big hand, then took a deep breath. "Step up, ensign."
"Gonna give me a mission, chief?" He gave Angel a humorless smile. He was at the cell door suddenly.
Luisa, standing guard by the door, involuntarily put out her hand, deploying her usual weapon of sorrow. The second her fingers touched his where they curled around the bars, Sam Lawson went to his knees with a cry of grief. After a moment, he lifted his face, his eyes blind with tears. "I… feel. Oh, lord, I feel." He drew in a gasp of air. "Are you an angel?" He reached through the bars for her.
The dark-haired vampiress turned uncertain eyes to the Master. Spike was frowning, but he gave her a nod of encouragement. Luisa closed the distance between her hands and Lawson's slowly, jerking slightly at the contact. "He… He has no joy in the hunt. In anything," the empathetic vampire reported. "No color, no emotion, nothing since he woke."
Lawson was staring up at Luisa, his face transformed by the joy of feeling something. "You're a vampire," he marveled. "How is this possible?"
She spoke to him for the first time. "You aren't the only one made wrong, or for the wrong reasons."
Angel stared at the kneeling form for a moment, then turned, holding the stake out. Buffy took it with a nod. He drew himself up to his full height before turning to Willow. To him, she was more powerful than any tribe of the Rom. "I sired him during World War Two. It's a long story, but we were eight hundred feet down in a submarine, and he was the only one who could fix it. And he was mortally wounded." Angel's eyes dropped to the tile floor. "It's the only time I ever… With a soul, I mean…" he trailed off.
Willow waited to see if he would say anything else, not sure of where he was going. Then she got it. "Okay. If he wants it."
Angel turned to Spike. "Master?"
He studied the way Luisa's eyes were fixed on Lawson's upraised face for a moment, then answered. "Into my hand, then?" When Angel nodded, he gave him a brief smile before turning to address Luisa.
"All right, Lu?"
"Uh?" She jerked her gaze away from the man who worshipped at her feet. "Oh, yes. I think it's worth a try. I'll, um, stay here."
Regardless of what Angel wanted, it was Faith that Spike turned to for a final answer. "Are you good with him staying solid?"
Faith thought of the plans the vampire had for Angel's friends. She was one of those friends. "Can you contain him?"
Spike leaned close to the Slayer responsible for Los Angeles. They were on the staircase now, leaving Lawson to Luisa. "If he doesn't accept a soul," he said, his voice low in case the vampire in question was listening, "I'll dust him myself. If he does, he'll be on probation for a year. We'll put him to work."
The rest of it was almost anticlimactic. Tara had thawed the entire store of Mohra blood and separated it into enchanted vials. All but one was back in storage in Joyce's freezer. She took it from the cooler and placed it on the reception desk. Angel walked around the loose circle of his friends and family, giving out hugs or handshakes.
Gunn held onto his hand. "You sure this is a good time to do this?" His eyes went toward the basement cell.
"I'm always going to have enemies," he replied with a shrug.
Then he'd finished the circuit. He looked at Spike and sent one last message through the bloodlink, one that Angelus would never have imagined: I love you, boy. Then he unstoppered the vial and winked at Connor, smiling. "Here goes."
Angel turned it upside down and watched the opalescent liquid drain from the glass and pour across his palm. A moment later, he had fallen to his knees and was drawing in painful gasps of air, the oxygen burning his lungs. Tears stung his eyes.
Connor was on his knees next to his father, holding him upright with a strength far beyond what Angel now had. "Are you okay?"
The big vampire drew another painful breath. "I will be." He gave Connor an open grin. "Help me outside? Supposed to be another warm, sunny day in SoCal. I think I'd like to see that."
⸹
Lunch at Angel Investigations was something of a party. Faith cornered Buffy at the end of the reception desk, both of them quiet while they watched Angel taste the homemade green curry Alpana made for the occasion. Spike threw his head back to laugh when the dark-haired man lunged for a bottle of water. "We brought buffalo wings. What food did you get for him to try?"
Faith grinned. "Mocha cherry ice cream."
"Oh, yum. I want some of that."
Faith leaned her elbows against the counter, thrusting out her chest. "Yeah, I'd want some, too, if I wasn't getting something better."
Buffy started grinning. "You finally found someone?"
Faith stopped posturing and leaned close to her sister Slayer. "Me an' Groo. Just a few days."
"Groo?" Buffy's eyebrows went up, and she looked around for the Pylean. He was engaged in an animated conversation with Gunn and Lorne. "That's awesome." Something wicked worked its way into her tone. "He's a good match for you."
"Oh, God," Faith moaned a little. "I don't have to hold back. Do you know hard it is to – Oh, of course you don't." She flapped a hand at Buffy.
"So… everything in FaithWorld is good, then?" When all she got was a grin, her eyebrows rose. "Very good? Extremely good?"
"This is the first time I've worn panties in days."
Buffy's laugh came out as a snort. "TMI," she managed.
"My only complaint is that he's way into foreplay," her voice dropped, "but I've convinced him to put it off until the third or fourth time."
"Third or fourth?"
"Way better refractory period than a human," Faith confided, "though not as good as a vampire's, from what Dawn says."
Looking outraged, Buffy looked around until she spotted her sister. "Dawn!" She waved her over and then smacked her elbow. "You knew? And you didn't tell me?"
"Ow!" Dawn rubbed her elbow, though it hadn't really hurt. "Why should I tell you, when you brutalize me?" She smiled at Faith. "Sharing the good news?"
"You share too much," Buffy said, before Faith could answer.
"What?"
"Refractory periods," Faith supplied.
"Oh." Caught, Dawn managed to shrug. "Like I really know anything. I just overheard you two whispering about the eighth time once, and I knew you'd been gone for four hours. I did the math."
Buffy pushed her away. "Go. Try one of those tacos Fred brought out." She waved her sister away and turned to Faith, putting her mouth close to her ear. "No refractory period."
"And this is where I wish Cordelia was here, because she so would say no wonder you look slagged."
"Has anyone told Cordelia?" Buffy asked, her smile fading as she nodded toward Angel. His cheeks were still reddened from the hot food. He looked content and at ease, and Buffy realized she was really happy for him.
Faith shook her head. "No. Angel asked that we let him tell her."
⸹
"I don't think we have to do the ritual twice," Willow said thoughtfully. "I can change the words to work with two Orbs of Thesulah."
"We can put off enchanting Michael's latest batch of rings," Tara replied.
"No, we'll have a regular coven meeting. The rest of us will be rested up. They can manage that much magic if we're too tired."
Oz glanced at Willow in the rearview mirror. He was driving her Camry to Cory Pedersen's family home, where they'd do the ritual to restore his soul. "Last time was easier, but soul magic still took it out of you."
She pouted a little. "I'm not going to miss the vernal equinox meeting."
"Has she always been this stubborn?" Tara asked Oz, sighing.
"Pretty much."
Tara shook her head. "Two souls, Wil."
Willow was looking down the street. "There's Buffy's car. They're here." Even as she watched, the doors opened and Buffy stepped out, closely followed by Spike and Cory. "Looks like we're all here."
A few minutes later, they were all crowded into the living room with Cory's parents and most of his siblings. Kyle, who knew Spike from time spent with Connor, was smirking because he'd gotten a fist bump from the Master.
"Is this okay?" Mrs. Pedersen asked. Her hands were tightly clenched, and she looked like she had been crying at some point during the day.
Willow looked at where the rug had been rolled away from the middle of the living room. "It will be perfect," she reassured the woman with a warm smile. "Just let us get set up."
"The second ball is for the other vampire, the new one," Cory explained, pointing at the Orbs.
"But he doesn't want to be human?"
Cory shook his head at his father's question. "No. He was turned during the Second World War, so all of his people are gone. He just wants his soul."
"He doesn't have to be here?"
"No, Mom," Cory said. There was something steely in his voice. "No invitation for any vampire, okay?"
"Are you going to see any of your vampire friends after this?" Kyle asked.
"Probably not very much," Cory said. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Things will be different."
"You'll be potential prey." Cory couldn't refute his father's harsh words.
Oz, watching his ladies carefully, raised a hand. "Quiet, please." The chant was almost familiar to him now. Their voices were their own; no spirits would ever dare try to possess either of these witches now. A soft, white glow began to light the room as his mates began to incandesce.
"They're so pretty," one of Cory's sisters whispered. Cory gave her a quick pat on the arm.
Both Orbs of Thesulah lit with a swirl of light. Tara and Willow's chant changed, became harsher somehow, though the light emanating from them did not. Power began to build in the room, almost a physical pressure on the skin. It crested, and the light that glowed around one of the Orbs suddenly lit Cory's face. He let out a cry, sliding from the couch to fall on his side on the floor.
"Help him up," his mother said sharply, waving her hand at his brothers. Spike was already there, supporting his minion.
"All right, then, Cory?"
The boy looked up at him, tears in his eyes. "No. Oh, God."
"Just breathe." Spike lifted him back onto the sofa. His voice sank to a volume so quiet only Cory could hear. "You've already dealt with this. Just takes your soul some time to get used to the part it missed." He stayed where he was, his arms around his minion, blocking the weeping vampire from anyone's view.
"Cory?" his mother asked hesitantly. "Are you all right? Does it – Did it hurt?"
"No," he said shakily. "I'm okay."
Spike smiled as he moved away. No male ever wanted to worry his mum. Buffy, he saw, had joined Oz with the two witches, all of them on the bare wood of the floor.
"How are you?" Buffy asked Tara quietly, realizing that the witch wasn't leaning on her completely anymore.
"O-okay. Not as wiped as I thought I would be." She drew in a breath. "Could you get the cooler?"
Buffy retrieved it from the safe haven beneath the coffee table and handed it to Tara. "Here you go."
"Cory? If you're r-ready?"
He wiped his face and swallowed. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. With the fluid grace of a predator, he moved so that he was sitting between Tara and his family. She fished the vial from the small cooler and handed it over. Cory stared at it for a moment, then uncapped it and poured it onto his chest, holding the cloth away from his skin. Spike wondered if it hurt there from the return of his soul.
His transformation was as quick as Angel's. Spike got a chance to see Cory's face flush with blood, then his family descended on him. He helped Oz and Buffy move the witches out of the way of the Pedersens as they welcomed home their own.
Half an hour later, Buffy and Spike were walking up the short footpath to Luisa's cottage. She'd sensed them coming and opened the door. "He has his soul," she reported. "Not quite an hour ago." Stepping aside, she let the Master and Mistress of Sunnydale into her home.
Sam Lawson was sitting on the floor of her living room. It was the only similarity to Cory's experience. He was smiling even as tears poured down his face. Both of his hands were gripping his hair, his elbows akimbo. "The whole family," he whispered. "I killed them all." He smiled at the newcomers beatifically, then it slid into a grimace.
Spike turned to his lieutenant. "I'll take him somewhere." He turned to Buffy. "What do you think? The crypt Oz used to use?"
"It's okay," Luisa reassured him. "Leave him. He said he was grateful that he could mourn them, mourn what he did."
"Lu, if he's a danger to you…" Buffy's hand drifted toward the stake at the small of her back.
The dark-haired woman shook her head. "I don't think he's even a danger to himself. He's enjoying feeling that sorrow, if it makes any sense."
Buffy lifted a shoulder, trying to imagine feeling only emptiness for six decades. Sure, she had her low moments, but the closest thing she could think of was the drugged vacancy she'd felt the first week in the institution, before she'd learned to ditch the medication. "If you're sure?"
Luisa looked down at Lawson, and one of her hands settled on his dark hair. "I am."
Once she and Spike were back in the car, she shook her head. What's up with Lu?
Think she likes the cut of sailor-boy's jib.
Really?
She likes a bloke that doesn't notice she's got looks. Lawson wasn't noticing anything but Angel.
Kind of funny that he, of all people, got a stalker.
As an Aurelian, I am deeply embarrassed that he didn't even realize it.
Buffy put her hand over his when he slowed for a red light. How are you? You lost two of your people today.
Just one. Liam will always be mine. And I'll see Cory around. As the light turned green again, he shrugged. May even have gained one.
Buffy fell quiet. Cory had knelt at Spike's feet one last time, before he'd been hauled to his feet and into an awkward hug. Sam Lawson had moved clumsily to his knees in front of Spike, too, holding the hem of his shirt as he spoke broken words of thanks. Vampires were strange mixes of human and demon. She was just grateful neither of them had bowed to her. "I wish I could be there tomorrow when Cory gets his package."
"Just tradition when a good and faithful servant retires," he murmured, dismissing it as a gesture. On Friday, he'd set up a bank account for Cory with enough money for college tuition and an automobile. There was a cache in Rochester that he planned to hit once winter in New York broke. He figured he could get both Cory and Jonathan to come with him, since both were leaving in their own ways.
"We'll call Angel when we get home," Buffy said. It seemed an appropriate way to close the topic.
Spike wasn't quite through with it, though. Do you ever want me to be human?
No! Then, much smaller, Do you want to be human?
No. Not with the Gem. I don't think I could only be with you half of the time, though. For sunshine, I'd become human.
Do you ever think about babies?
Sometimes. He put out a hand. Whenever you want them, love, I'll be right there with you.
Buffy lifted his hand to press against her cheek. I like you the way you are. He had a brief list of her thoughts: cool flesh when she was heated, amazing stamina, her left hand in battle. No. I love you, just the way you are.
⸹
"William!" Buffy put up her hand and waved frantically. "Over here!"
His head swiveled, and he smiled as he spotted the table where she was sitting. She watched him pick his way through the crowded dining hall and sighed a little. He was so cute with those glasses.
"Hullo, love." He cleared his throat, uncomfortable at this lapse. It wasn't a very William greeting. "And how was your spring break?"
"I need another break to recover from my break," she complained cheerfully. "How about you?"
"I think that's an excellent idea. Who should we talk to about it?"
"The Dean? The Chancellor?"
"Dean's on campus. We'll visit his office after lunch." Spike tilted his head to consider her food. "What are you eating?"
"Hummus and pita bread. Want some?"
"I think I'll pass this time."
"You aren't hungry?"
His eyes lingered on her mouth. "Er, no." William ducked his head. "I, uh, have something I'd like to ask you, though."
"Oh?"
"Would you, uh, do me the honor of accompanying me to the Spring Formal?"
Buffy blinked at him. UC-Sunnydale had two official dances, one in autumn for homecoming and one in April. Other than fraternity and sorority members, not many students attended. She might be the only non-Greek senior there. There was something in William's face, though. He looked as if he was bracing for rejection.
Which was nonsense. "I hadn't really thought about going, but I'd love to go with you."
William broke into a smile that put his dimples on display. "Oh. Good. Good, then." Impulsively, he reached across the table and took her hand. He lifted it to his mouth and gave her a brief kiss on her knuckles, then the inside of her wrist. "That's… that's wonderful, Buffy. You've made me a very happy man."
"I'll warn you right now, I'm not the best at dances with formal steps."
"You can step on my feet all you like."
"I didn't say I'm, like, an ox!" she protested, swatting at him. He evaded her easily, grinning. "I just meant, I'm not Grace Kelly."
"Though Princess Grace was nearly as lovely as you, I think you mean Gene Kelly," he said, after a moment's confusion. "But I only want to go dancing with you, Buffy."
She realized she was giving him a sappy look and had been for several long seconds. "What about you, mister? You never said if you're a good dancer."
"A gentleman never boasts," he said, but there was an immodest glint in his eyes.
All of the retorts she would have shot at Spike died away, and Buffy reached across the table to take his hand. "A gentleman doesn't have to. You know how to dance, don't you? You know the right kind of flowers to give a girl's mother, which fork or spoon to use, all of that."
"I do," he admitted.
Buffy squeezed his fingers in reassurance. "All that stuff? It's way cool."
⸹
"Are you sure we're on the list?"
"We are," Connor reassured his father. "Just relax." They were only one car back now in the line to get onto the studio lot where Cordelia's television show was taping. Angel was wearing sunglasses, and Connor thought his father looked kind of dorky. He was happy, though, and this was the first time they'd driven anywhere with the top of the GTX down.
They moved up in the queue and the uniformed man in the guard shack looked down at them. "What's your business today, my man?"
"Uh, visitors for It's Cordy." Angel sounded unsure.
The guard flipped through pages on a clipboard. "Okay, I need some ID." Connor already had his student identification out, and Angel dug for his driver's license. The guard checked their names against the list. He examined their faces, then handed back the cards. When he turned away, Angel half-expected him to pick up the phone to call for backup, but he just handed him a map.
"Park here," he instructed them. "You know the protocol when filming is in progress?"
"We do," Connor assured him. He'd been to the studio twice before.
"Right you are. Nice wheels," he added. Then the gate was going up, and they were through.
After they parked, Angel spent almost a minute fussing with his hair in the rearview mirror. It was amazing how quickly he'd stopped flinching at the way his reflection followed him past glass and shiny surfaces.
"Relax, Dad," Connor told him, sounding amused. "You don't look any worse than you usually do."
He flicked Connor's ear. Angel found he was both stronger and faster than he expected to be. Fred assured him it wasn't anything vampiric left over, just due to things like 'twitch muscle' and 'muscle memory.' "All right," he sighed, putting his sunglasses back on before taking them off and tossing them on the seat. "Let's get this over with."
"Ever the optimist." Connor bounded out of the car and handed one of the visitor badges to Angel.
Following his son's lead, he attached it to the pocket of his shirt. Angel looked up at the huge, blocky building. Every building here looked like a four-story warehouse. Other than the smell and cleanliness, they could have been at a wharf.
It took a moment for their eyes to adjust as they stepped through the door that lead to Cordelia's soundstage. Before he could really see anything clearly, a nervous young woman had approached them. "Connor!" She gave him a quick hug.
"Hi, Penny." He indicated his father. "This is Angel."
"Nice to meet you," he mumbled, accepting her hand. It was as limp and cold as a fish. The whole building was icy cold. It wasn't anything he would have really noticed a couple of days ago.
Penny stared up at him. "So, you're salty goodness?" she asked, giggling a little. Then she sobered. "I'm Cordy's assistant. Just follow me."
He fell into step behind her, only half listening to her chatter with Connor about this being a nice surprise. Angel pushed at his hair once more. Penny led them through another door back into sunlight and to a couple of steps situated in front of the door of a trailer.
"Here we are!" She beamed at them and pounded on the bottom of the door with surprising force, not bothering to mount the steps.
"Hey!" Cordelia's cheerful voice came through the thin door. "Be right there." And then she was, her eyes lighting on Connor. She stepped down from the trailer to take him in a careful hug. "You've grown again," she complained. "And you're too skinny. We need to get you to craft –" Her voice died as she realized there was another man standing behind her, and she grew tense as though she already knew who it would be. She turned with wide eyes to see him standing sheepishly in the sunshine.
"Hi, Cordy."
"Angel." There was barely any breath supporting the word. "How…?"
He dimly realized that Connor was tugging on Penny's arm, pulling her toward the studio door, leaving the two of them standing an awkward couple of feet apart.
"I'm, uh, not Angelus anymore."
Cordelia blinked. She was wearing heavy makeup, and it aged her a bit. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves, and he could see the hairspray that made it stiff. "How?" she managed again.
"Willow." It was the quickest explanation. "I asked her to." Angel swallowed and looked down for a moment. "I've missed you. A lot. I knew if you were ever going to give me another chance, I needed to change. Now I can be with you any time of the day. Wherever you want. If you want me, I mean." He trailed off and took a breath, daring to look into her eyes.
She let out a soft huff of breath and threw herself into his arms. "I've missed you." A little laugh escaped her. "You're a little sweaty."
"I'm sorry."
"No! No, it's just… new." Cordy pulled back a couple of inches. "H-human?"
"I gave up the champion thing. I, uh, run Angel Investigations, that's all. I'm a single dad. I'm focusing on what's here in front of me, not on what happened in my past or what reward I might get in the future." He shrugged, realizing that his hands were already at her waist. She felt amazing against him. How had he lived without this? "I don't know if there's any way a big TV star like you would –"
She cut him off with a kiss. Her lipstick was thick and tacky against his mouth. "There's a chance," she whispered. "There are all kinds of chances." Cordelia kissed him again, then drew away. Tears were tracking down her cheeks. "I'll have to get back in the makeup chair anyway," she said, after a moment's thought. "Quick, come on in."
She was dragging him through the door, and he was painfully hard, making the two steps a challenge. "Cordy… are you sure?"
Cordelia gave him her familiar, thousand-watt smile. "Don't blow your chance, mister."
⸹
"Any idea what this is about?" Dawn asked.
"Not a clue," Willow replied. "I just got a message from Giles with a link to the site so I can stream the meeting." She had been fiddling with her laptop in the modular building that served as the Sunnydale High student lounge for a few minutes. It was ten in the morning, and she'd pulled Dawn out of class.
"There's Buffy," Dawn informed the redhead, lifting a hand to wave at her sister.
"How do you get around?" Buffy asked. "This place is a maze."
"If you don't like it, you shouldn't have blown up the high school," Dawn snarked.
"Next time I graduate, you can sit up front and be snake chow." Buffy hugged her anyway.
"Well, I'm getting the nosebleed seat when you walk this time," Dawn declared. Their mother was adamant that Buffy walk during UC-Sunnydale's graduation ceremony.
"Got it," Willow said, though she was still typing. She tilted her laptop so they could see a jerky video of Aubrey speaking from a lectern at the front of a room with rows of chairs. Her fingers flew over the laptop as she wrung every bit of speed from the network. The video now had fewer glitches, and she turned up the volume.
"… final order of business," Aubrey was saying, peering at the group in front of him over the top of his reading glasses, "is this." He lifted a paper to position in front of him and began to read. "Whereas the Council of Slayers holds as its highest mission the safety of Slayers, be it resolved," he began.
"Oh," Dawn breathed, a smile breaking across her face. She knew what this was, after all.
"… that the Council of Slayers condemns the ritual known as the 'Tento di Cruciamentum' in any and all forms as barbaric and criminal treatment of Slayers, as a misuse and mistreatment of our most precious resource, and as a means of forcing Watchers into criminal activity ranging from false imprisonment to premeditated murder. Be it further resolved that the Council of Slayers will countenance no ritual which endangers Slayers or Watchers." He looked out over the audience, his eyes resting on a man older than him. "Discussion?"
The elderly man stood without waiting for anyone else to speak. "Move for a vote."
The woman next to him stood. The video resolution wasn't great, but she seemed to be missing part of her nose. "I second the motion."
Willingham's expression was chilly as he glared at the rest of audience. "All in favor?" He let the wave of 'ayes' roll over him. "Any opposed?" His tone forbade the utter stupidity of any opposition, and the room was quiet. He lifted a little gavel and banged it on the lectern. "The resolution passes unanimously. Any new business?"
Willow and Dawn looked up at Buffy, whose eyes were sparkling with unshed tears. "You guys knew?"
"I didn't." Willow glanced at Dawn.
She shrugged. "He showed me an early draft of it. I didn't know that's what this was about, but I do know who those two people were."
"They were Watchers whose Slayers died during the test," Buffy said. Her voice was soft.
Dawn nodded. She should have known her sister would get it. Putting out a hand to cover Buffy's, she said softly, "Uncle Aubrey wants that to be his last order of business, his legacy. Giles takes over at the beginning of the next meeting."
Buffy stood so she could hug both of them, then wiped her eyes carefully with the pad of her thumb. "Okay," she sniffled. "Thanks for showing me this, guys. I guess I better get back to campus."
"And I should get to class," Dawn sighed.
Willow looked smug. "Happy me, out until next term."
⸹
"Oh, hey, B."
"You don't call, you don't text…" Buffy teased. She'd put a load of laundry in and figured it wasn't too early to call Faith. "Must be that new guy of yours."
"That, and Alpana has been driving me crazy planning for the Slayer seminar. Just a couple more weeks until we teleport to London."
"Ugh, boring Council stuff is boring. How's Groo?"
"Groo is fine." Faith sighed a little. "This is not at all familiar, B. He treats me nice, takes me out, compliments my hair…"
"And do you compliment his hair?" Buffy teased.
"It makes a great pair of reins when I ride him."
Buffy could hear the smirk in her voice. "And there's a visual I don't need. How's your newly human boss?"
"Truthfully, I've barely seen Angel. He's either out with Connor or going out with Cordelia."
"Oh? That was quick."
"He went to see her a couple of days after the rehumanizing. She seemed to think that showed he was willing to change. Cordy's dragged him out to all these parties and premiers. He's bought, like, a dozen new suits to keep up."
"Angel always could pull off Armani." Buffy wandered to the kitchen, heading for a glass of orange juice. "How's Connor taking it?"
"Brat's kind of smug, like it was his plan all along or something."
"He, uh, having a less dramatic love life?"
"Oh, yeah. He's dating Miss Pure Virgin, this chick named Greta. She's never gonna give it up."
"She is his age, right? Sixteen? Nothing wrong with that."
"Oh. Yeah, you're right. He's just my kid brother, you know?"
"Had this talk with Dawn recently. Hopefully I convinced her to keep her v-card until she's twenty-five."
"Oh, that's likely."
"Leave me my delusions," Buffy sighed. "Anything else going on?"
"Groo hasn't had any more visions about human trafficking, thank goodness. We've had a demon turf war and some kind of summoning ritual that we busted up. Other than that, just stuff on patrol. How about Sunnyhell?"
"Strangely quiet. After the December apocalypse interruptus, our calendar's shot to hell. No idea when to expect the next weirdness."
"Hey!" Faith called, obviously not speaking to Buffy for a second. "Gunn's girl is here."
"Oh?"
"Did Wil or Tara tell you about the electric girl?"
"Yeah. So she's not shocking people she touches anymore?"
"Well, Gunn isn't walking funny, so I guess they fixed her right up."
Buffy nearly spat juice over the counter. She snorted. "Okay, now that's the visual I didn't need."
"Hey, you wanted gossip."
"Did not. I only called to give you my full support as senior Slayer." Buffy's tone was plummy.
"Sure you did. How's the gym coming?"
"Not too far behind schedule. I'll be ready for the other seminar, for which my bestie Slayer buddy will come up from L.A. to help with, please please please?"
"Will you come to London?" Faith challenged.
"Yes, but only because you've already coopted my multilingual better half. I already gave Giles the times I can be there."
"You still call him Giles? Not Pops or something?"
"I'll be a hundred, and he'll be… um, older than that, and I'll still call him Giles. I'm an old dog now. No new tricks."
"Don't tell your honey that."
"You're older than me. I'll bet you fall asleep on Groo all the time."
"B! Just by a few months. And I do actually fall asleep on Groo. He's the first guy I don't mind seeing still around in the morning."
"Always of the good when they're still there. Basis of a healthy relationship." Buffy believed that firmly.
"Ack, take it back. I can't be in healthy relationship. There's the sign of the apocalypse you were looking for."
"I take it back," Buffy said hastily.
⸹
London
April 2003
⸹
Giles smiled again as he shook hands. After he'd taken over from Aubrey on Wednesday, things had been quiet. Today was Friday, and his staff had insisted on taking him out. Lord knew why; Willingham was much better drinking companion than he was these days. But he'd rang up Joyce to let her know and been spirited away to a pub on a corner near where Watcher headquarters once stood. It had been packed with nearly every CoS employee in London, and every one had wanted to have a drink with him.
Three ales in, Giles had gotten the knack of never letting his mug out of his hand and never drinking from it. Otherwise, he'd have been smashed. He'd loosened his tie, cheered a match of darts, slid into every booth in the place, and otherwise spread around a layer of approachable boss. All he really wanted was to be at the duplex with Max asleep on his lap and Joyce snugged up against him.
But that wasn't what the Council needed. By the end of the six months, there had been a palpable urge for Aubrey to just be gone already, so that the last of the temporary nature of things would be in the past. The Watchers needed to move on, to solidify around their real leader. It wasn't fair to Aubrey, but Giles understood. Everything, from mission to headquarters, had been set on its ear, and the people who worked for the Council were only human.
Now, he rather felt as though he'd put in enough of an appearance. The crowd had thinned, the owner was standing cheerfully near his till, counting receipts, and the noise level had fallen from 'party' to 'closing time.' Giles smiled – his jaws ached – and shook another hand even as he shot a glance to see whether that was his coat hanging by the door.
"Ripper!"
The voice was quiet, but the appellation startled him. "Oh! Er, hullo…" A name wouldn't come, though there was something familiar about the face. For just a second, it resolved into something that was not human. "Ami-beq?"
The Egyptian deity smiled. "You remember!"
"Of course I do." They shook hands, as two civilized beings in Savile Row suits ought, while Giles frantically tried to remember if he might have messed up the ritual to call forth the minor god all those years ago.
"I was in London and just wanted to stop by to say congratulations."
"Oh. Thank you doesn't quite seem to be in order, considering I would never have been head –"
"– Without all those deaths?" Ami-beq smiled, showing many white and excellent teeth. He held a hand toward an empty booth, and Giles found himself sitting down. He lifted a hand toward the bar, two fingers raised. "I heard about Ethan. Eyghon always was a braggart."
Giles grew still. "I… I didn't know, not for sure."
"Well, you can't be surprised. He never played it safe."
Finding that he needed a drink, Rupert lifted the flat ale and quaffed the remainder. "No. No, he didn't."
"You, though…" Ami-beq's eyes gleamed as his eyes noted the ring on the wizard's left hand. "I never took you for the marrying kind."
"I've been most fortunate." Giles fished in his pockets for a tenner and laid it on the table. He was not going to owe his companion for anything, ever again.
"You truly have. A doting wife, a new son, two daughters about to grow into Powers," his dark eyes narrowed as if searching Giles' face, "and even a son-in-law who's been jumped up to Guardian of the Slayer line." A young man wearing an apron brought two full mugs to the table and made the ten-pound note disappear.
Ripper stared back at the demi-god, his face a mask of disinterest and magical blankness. "You are very well informed." What the hell did he mean with that remark about his daughters?
Ami-beq laughed, a rich, rolling sound. "And isn't that why you twice summoned me?"
"Yes, that, and the arrogance of a rank amateur."
"But earnest and amusing, all the same," he smiled. He lifted his pint and drained most of it. "Ah, that's nice and dark." Ami-beq gave him a wry look. "I am not here to play games, Ripper. Your daughter is a Key. Once made flesh, what else can she do but ascend? And the Slayer has not only conquered death and defeated a god – and I do note, not one from our dimension – but she channels elemental magic to rebalance the force of good."
"What will happen to her?" He immediately tensed; he did not want to incur any obligation.
Ami-beq only shrugged. "I do not know." At Giles' skeptical look, he leaned forward. "Truly, I do not. Her rebirth has ever been shielded from seers."
Shielded… Giles breathed a little easier. There should have been prophecies about Buffy, who was so much more than the usual Slayer, but there was nothing other than the foretelling of her death at the hands of the Master. "I should not have asked."
"No. But we are all weak where family is concerned, are we not? I have sisters and a brother who remain on this plane."
"Are you in London on holiday?" Giles believed he managed unconcern as he glanced down to replace his empty pint with the full one.
"No. Business." Another flash of sharp teeth. "A death. Nothing to concern you, unless your new Council has gone into the business of betting parlors."
Giles wasn't sure of how literally to take the explanation, so he just settled for an, "Ah," and another lift of his mug.
The deity looked unfocused for a moment, then met his eyes again. "It has been very nice to catch up, Ripper, but I must meet a summons." Ami-beq drained the last of his ale and gave Rupert a nod before rising. He was at the door and gone, without seeming to use any haste at all.
Giles sat in the booth, still and completely sober, wondering why he should be surprised by his lack of surprise. Once the god said it aloud, it seemed obvious that Dawn and Buffy were no longer just human. It was Spike's world. He turned the realization over in his mind until it hurt, until he was grateful to be interrupted once again by a well-wisher who wanted to shake his hand.
⸹
Sunnydale
⸹
"I'll miss you," Buffy said, embracing Spike from behind.
He turned and rested his arms on her shoulders. "I'll miss you. It's just three days, though."
"I know." She sighed. He was piloting a flight to London, the Council having chartered Colinvaux Air to ferry the Latin and South American Slayers from Los Angeles. Spike was a logical choice to be their chaperone, since he spoke both Spanish and Portuguese fluently. "Three days too long."
"With school and the fitness center, you have enough to keep you busy until Wednesday. Once you're in London, we'll go out, paint the old town red."
Even as she nodded, her lower lip eased into a pout. As always, Spike took it as an invitation. "Ah, love," he breathed a couple of minutes later, pulling away from the kiss. "What you do to me."
Her hands were already moving over proof of what she did to him. "How much time do we have?"
Spike groaned. "Sod it. Let me call Harriet and have her do preflight check." A minute later, he snapped the phone closed, ending the conversation with the pilot. "It's good to be the boss." He groped blindly behind him until his questing fingers found the open suitcase on the bed. Pushing it out of the way, he sat and drew her down onto his lap.
An hour later, Buffy put her forehead against his. "We better stop."
"Come for me, then, my love."
"Ahh… same. Come with me." She rolled so they were no longer laying side by side and she was astride his narrow hips.
"As you wish," he managed, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Buffy kissed the smile away, but she was wearing one of her own a couple of loud minutes later. "You made a funny face."
"Wonder it hasn't got stuck in some tragic O-face," he quipped, making his eyes cross.
"Not tragic," Buffy breathed, kissing his neck. "No O-face. You're beautiful when you come."
"Wait. Which is it, funny or beautiful?"
"Why can't it be both?" She bit down gently on his right sternocleidomastoid muscle. "Your neck is gorgeous."
"Tragic story of how I came to be a vampire in two words: pretty neck." He pulled away enough to see her. "Not complaining, but you're full of compliments today."
"Just cataloging all that I'm going to miss about you." Her fingernails raked the sides of his hips as she caught the rise of his collarbone in her teeth.
What escaped his throat was nearly a whimper. "You couldn't have started this several hours ago? I'd love to have those little teeth nip me on a whole host of other body parts."
"Mmm." Buffy closed her eyes and snuggled close. "I'm going to let you go. Any minute now."
She did eventually, of course, and she lay on the bed listening to Spike power through a shower in under two minutes. He leaned over the bed in another two, giving her a kiss, mumbling something about being thankful the Slayers were Brazilian instead of German. When she raised her eyebrows, he grinned.
"Brazilians take it as a given that start times are approximate." When Buffy shook her head, still not understanding, he added, "They're laid back, love. Germans, not so much."
"What about Americans? What's our reputation?" she asked, curious.
"Usually on time and driven by the almighty dollar. And loud."
"Huh." She sat up, cuddling his pillow to her chest. "And Brits?"
"Obsessed with the weather." He shrugged. "Tea snobs."
"And all about the pint?"
Spike snorted and bent down to lace his boots. "Every country is stereotypically about booze. French and Italian people drink all the wine. Irish people chug Guinness and Scots chug whiskey. Canadians and Australians drink all the beer." He frowned. "Also Poles, Belgians, Germans, Austrians – well, Austrians do drink a lot."
"And Englishmen don't? I've met Aubrey."
He put on a Viennese accent. "'Water and milk are for animals. Beer is for humans.' An Austrian actually told me that once."
"Stereotyping is wrong."
He was suddenly to his feet and lunging over the bed, pressing her flat. "Leaving you is wrong," Spike growled, and kissed her silly. Then he let out a breath. "But I have to do it. Let me go, now."
Buffy looked at her arms as if seeing them for the first time. They were locked around his neck. "Okay. I'm going to roll over and pretend to be asleep." She pulled him in for another kiss. "I love you. Text me before you take off."
"I love you, too." Buffy let go of him and rolled to face the wall, so he leaned in to kiss her nape, then left before he lost his willpower again.
The Slayer sniffled for a few minutes after he left, knowing that she was being maudlin. She was going to transport to her parents' townhouse on Wednesday and, like Spike, be part of the day's panels for the new Slayers. They'd been apart longer, but that didn't mean she had to like it.
Nothing at home appealed to her, so she texted Dawn to see if she was up for shopping. Her sister's reply – "Duh." – gave Buffy enough motivation to shower and head to the mall. Dawn met her at the food court a few minutes later.
"What are we shopping for?" she asked, taking the other seat and immediately stealing a couple of the French fries left from Buffy's lunch.
"I need a dress for the Spring Formal," Buffy said. She still sounded glum.
Dawn gave her a puzzled look. "And you're shopping for it here in Sunnydale?"
"Yeah?"
"I mean, you usually use something like this as an excuse for a trip to L.A."
"It's not that kind of dance," Buffy said, knowing she sounded lame. How could she explain that she was going with William? She and William didn't have a fortune from raiding moldy demon treasure hoards; they were going to UC-Sunnydale because it was the cheapest public school in the state. Attending the dance was a splurge for them.
"We'd probably do better at the dress shops downtown," Dawn pointed out.
Buffy put a hand to her ear. "Listen! Is that size nine sandals I hear calling your name?"
"Fine," Dawn huffed, grabbing one last fry. "Mall shopping it is."
Four stores later, Buffy got around to asking about her sister's spring break. "So, how bad was it?"
"It wasn't awful." Dawn pouted a little as she admitted this. "Francesca took me shopping, too, and she's kind of fun away from Dad." She slowed down in front of a Gap store, then took a step to catch up. "I spend most days at the Hyperion, anyway. I got to research horned demons; it was such a change of pace." Sarcasm dripped off her words.
"How were things there? I mean, I know this was before Angel's big change."
"They were fine. Faith and Groo were disappearing every chance they got, so it wasn't as much fun as it could have been."
"Did you spend much time with Connor?"
She gave her sister an accusing glare. "This is about him grabbing me away from that Lawson guy, isn't it?"
"I just wondered…" Buffy's tone was innocent.
"He's younger than me. I have a boyfriend; he has a girlfriend." Dawn's eyes rolled as she thought of perfect Greta. "It's not a thing, okay?"
"Dawn, you know he has a crush on you."
"Oh, he so does not. It's just, we get stuck together because we're close in age. He's like my cousin or something."
"All right," Buffy said mildly. "I was just asking. How about the rest of them? I didn't really get a chance to talk the last time I was there."
"Gunn's got a new girlfriend. She's kind of nice. Sad life."
"I heard about that. I also heard she's like an international jewel thief or something."
"Hey, make do with what you've got. Gunn's going to look for clients that need security evaluation. If he finds enough, AI is going to start focusing on that and hire her."
"Well, that makes sense, like how software companies hire hackers to test their code." Buffy gestured at a shoe store. "Want to go in?"
"Pfft," Dawn said, making the turn. "As if I would pass it by." She made a beeline for a display of sandals. "So, I spent most of my time with Angel, Wes, and Fred. It was quiet, but it was loads better than staying with Francesca." She checked the price on a pair of light blue, strappy sandals. "I wonder how long Wes is going to wait to ask her out."
"Ask who out?" Half of Buffy's attention was on a pair of gladiator sandals she knew she was too short to pull off.
"Duh, Fred." Dawn grinned suddenly. "I caught him singing 'Jessie's Girl' one day."
"Oh," Buffy said, getting it. "He won't make a play because Fred used to date Gunn…"
"… And Gunn's his bestie." Dawn put down the shoes.
"I didn't even know that Wesley Wyndham-Pryce knew any pop songs."
When Buffy didn't find a dress to her liking, they went downtown, where she found a pink dress on clearance that she thought would do. She could tell that Dawn wasn't impressed with it, so she played the dance off as just something she wanted to check off her list of college experiences. They talked about college for a while; like her, Dawn had scored high on her entrance exams. The Slayer ended up following her home to share Chinese takeout for dinner.
"I should go ahead and patrol," Buffy sighed, looking out the dining room window as the streetlights came on.
"Can I come with you?" Dawn asked, her eyes all puppy-like and pleading.
"Okay," Buffy sighed, "but only because I enjoy being around you." Her voice grew hard. "You'd better be careful and do everything I tell you to do."
"I will!" Dawn grabbed her in a hug, then bounded toward the stairs. She hardly ever got to go on patrol.
As they limped back in four hours later, Buffy remembered why her little sister didn't come on patrol. "It's bleeding again, isn't it?"
"Just a little." Dawn disengaged her arm from her sister's. She had staked a vampire, her fourth ever, then turned to check if there were others around. She'd walked right into the sharp edge of a low tombstone and cut her shin.
"Let's get up to the bathroom." Buffy got Dawn out of her dark pants and seated on the closed commode. "I don't think you need stitches," she muttered, rolling a band of gauze over the wound.
"Use a bandage," Dawn directed. "It isn't that big."
"Do they even make bandages that big?"
"It isn't that big," Dawn repeated, huffing. She leaned over and rummaged around in the first aid bag. "Here. No, wait. Just fold some gauze into a square and tape it down. I'll disinfect it again and use the bandage after it stops bleeding."
"Or I could just let you do it yourself," Buffy said, "bossy-boots."
Dawn stood up after Buffy finished. "Thanks," she said. "I'm sorry I ruined patrol."
"You didn't ruin patrol," Buffy said. "We got three vampires. That's hopping for Sunnydale these days." She started collecting the bits of trash.
"Wait," Dawn said, her hand closing over Buffy's wrist as she reached for the first length of gauze she'd used.
"Why?" Buffy frowned at Dawn, who was transfixed by the stain on the edge of the sink. "What is it?"
"That's it!" She gave Buffy a hug. "You solved it! I've been looking for a way to make a realistic-looking screen for one of my paintings, and you found it."
Buffy looked at the crisscross pattern of Dawn's blood on the sink, left after she moved the strip of airy cloth. "Oh. That's good?"
"It's great! You're a genius!" Dawn had snatched the roll back out of the first aid bag. "If it wasn't so late, I'd get out my paints and try it now."
"It is late," Buffy said. "Here, take these to the fireplace and burn them." She handed Dawn the little wad of bloodstained material. Burning anything with spilled blood had been routine for the family since Willow had read her first dark spellbook and, white-faced, written out detailed instructions for disposal. "I'll clean up the rest."
"Stay here tonight?" Dawn asked. "Sleep with me, and we won't even have to fix up the other room."
"Okay, you twisted my arm." She gave Dawn's leg a critical look. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Yeah. I think it'll bruise, though."
"Good work with that vamp, by the way."
Dawn preened. "Thank you. I don't even know why they bother coming to Sunnydale, you know?"
"It's the pull of the Hellmouth," Buffy said with a sigh. Most of the slays these days were from demons who came to Sunnydale as tourists or agents of chaos. It was rare to have a fledge rise; the death rate for the town was almost normal now.
Anya had the non-violent demons on board with her plans for the city, so any plots to wreck Sunnydale were brought to her attention. Spike's minions kept interlopers out. Even the police and ambulance crews were clued in to the supernatural world now. Anya had made sure city job openings were posted where humanoid demon species would see them.
Still, with all that, the Hellmouth seethed beneath the town, drawing evil demons to its streets. Buffy sighed. She shouldn't be ungrateful; the patrol tonight was so different from what she'd handled during high school, so much easier.
Spike broke into her reverie. Just got cleared to land at Heathrow, love. We'll be on the ground in a few minutes. You going to be awake in an hour or so?
No. I'm staying with Dawn tonight. Just finished patrol.
Everything go okay?
Dawn banged her shin on a grave marker. Fine other than that. Go pilot your plane. I'll talk to you tomorrow.
Then, just a couple of days.
Not long. Love you, wife.
Love you, too.
⸹
Next Chapter: Buffy gets a new Watcher, as her old one confronts Spike.
