TITLE: Darkest Before Dawn 26 "Intervention"

TITLE: Darkest Before Dawn 26 "Intervention"

AUTHOR: Nmissi
PART:26/?

DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing and No one. Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Want it? Take it. Just let me know where it's going.

Feedback: Please. Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.

NOTE: I love Spike. I adore Spike. I do not hate Him. I am a redemptionista and a B/S Shipper. I am Not David Fury. Hate mail will be used to line catboxes.

This has to work. It's our last chance, and something's gotta give. One way or another, it stops here.

Xander's thoughts were linear, his resolve firm. The man beside him was even clearer on his motivation, his jaw firm, his mind made up. It didn't matter what it cost him, Giles had a plan to solve The Spike Problem.

They pulled up in the drive, and climbed out into the noonday sun. Xander pulled a duffel bag from the backseat, and together they mounted the porch steps.

No one answered the first knock. Or the second. Some ten minutes later, Giles reluctantly brought a key out of his coat pocket and unlocked the deadbolt.

"I was rather hoping he'd just answer the door," he explained.

Xander pushed in through the door. Giles followed him in, and shut the door quietly behind, locking it once more.

There was no sign of their quarry in the living room. Xander looked back at the older man, and found him at the bottom of the stairs, gazing upwards.

"You think-"

Giles looked down, and nodded. His body language clearly conveyed his discomfort, but he mounted the steps gamely. Hefting the black duffel, Xander trailed along behind him.

They found Spike sprawled out in Joyce's bed, sound asleep, his snore reverberating softly in the room.

" Hey, Evil Notdead…Get Up."

Xander shook Spike with uncharacteristic roughness. The blonde head lolled on the pillow for some minutes, before it lifted and looked Xander in the eyes.

"Sod off."

Giles strode up to the bedside, and Xander moved out of his way. He put a hand on Spike's shoulder and heaved him upward, into a sitting position. The bedsheet gave way, exposing its wearer entirely.

"Oh dear lord."
Giles sort of dropped him and looked heavenward.

"Get dressed and come downstairs. We must speak with you."

"Okay. So I've made out the check to Caritas. I've restocked petty cash, and paid your credit card bill. The phone bill is still due, but until you get us another stub; I can't do anything about that. You really should be more careful, Angel."

Angel nodded, paying only moderate attention. Cordy was at him about money again.

"I mean, you're HOW many hundreds of years old? Shouldn't you be a little more responsible now? Like enough to not lose the phone bill?"

He looked at her from underneath heavy brows.

"I didn't misplace it. I spilled blood all over it."

She was taken aback by the disclosure.

"Oh."

Collecting herself, she resumed the tirade.

"Well then, you should be more careful with stuff like that. "

He went back to ignoring her as he leafed through the mail on her desk. He tried his best to be thorough, yet not obvious, as he hunted for the MasterCard bill. Where the hell was it?

"And something else, Angel."

Uh oh. He didn't care for that look on her face.

"Look, I know it's your personal life, and its none of my business-"

He arched a brow at her.

"When did you ever let that stop you?"

"Don't worry, it won't stop me now either. It's just-"

She waved at him with the sought-after credit card statement.

"Honestly Angel- Six hundred dollars at "The fashionable Male". Two hundred dollars on shoes. And what is this with the hundred dollar haircut?"

She eyed his gelled locks with distaste.

"It doesn't look that good."

She stepped from behind the desk, a look of understanding in her eyes.

"I know how hard it is to live within your means. But Angel, we need to have a talk."

She took up a sheaf of small paper slips off the desktop.

"These are called "Coupons". They're what the rest of the world uses to save cash, okay? And some of them are pretty darn nifty. Lookie- Your Italian shoes? I could have got them here for 10% off your total purchase."

She waggled a coupon at him.

"Maybe if you could learn to live like the rest of us mortals, you could afford to give me a raise."

"Cordelia, you have an expense account and use of a company car. You don't need a raise. I even pay for your manicures and your haircolor-"

"I do not color my hair!"

He glared at her and she sniffed.

"It's just highlights."

She sighed at him again.

"Will you just try this? I've clipped coupons for all your favorite stores, and I've got repeat customer cards for your hairdresser. Will you just try this, and see how much money you save?"

He looked at her dubiously. Every since she'd gone to work in his office, she'd acquired a passion for saving money. It meant nothing to him, but to her, wasted money was somehow sinful. His over expenditure on the credit card bothered her on a deeply personal level.

"Look, most normal humans are a LITTLE concerned about money. Just try to think of it as practicing."

He didn't follow.

"Practicing for what?"

She rolled her eyes at him.

"For Shanshu, silly. For when you get to be Human Again, remember?"

His gaze dropped, along with his heart.

"Oh. That."

Spike trudged down the stairs, and into the living room, garbed in black jeans and a t-shirt with what looked like moth-holes eaten through it. Surveying the room's two occupants, his eyes narrowed, and his guard went up.

"What d'you want?"

They were standing in the living room, lying in wait for him. He tensed automatically. The last time he'd seen Xander, he'd been tossing him out of the Magic Shop into the daylight. The last time he'd seen Giles, he'd been exposed to that time honored tradition; the cut-direct.

He didn't know people still did that. Surprisingly, the whole cold shoulder bit was as painful now as it had been in his youth.

He looked back and forth, studying his foes. Xander seemed keyed-up, antsy. Giles was deathly calm, his eyes bright with something. Anger? Anticipation?

Best to find out now.

He got an ashtray and a beer, and sat down with them in a chair.

"Well, you're here. I'm here. Get on with it."

Giles looked at Xander, and nodded. The boy placed the duffle on the coffee table. The only sound in the room was the metallic zing as he unzipped it, and then stepped away.

Giles eyes and voice were ice, as he addressed Spike.

"In this bag is one hundred thousand dollars in cash. It is all that I have saved, everything in my retirement fund, and what equity I have in the store."

He paused, searching Spike's face for some sign he understood where this was going, before continuing.

"It's yours, if you'll leave Sunnydale, and Buffy, for good."

Spike choked on his cigarette smoke. Whatever he'd expected, this was definitely not it.

Then anger began to grow in him. Rather than letting it out in the form of some nice physical violence, he chose to vent verbally.

"So mate; that's all the Watchers Council give you?"

His cigarette gestured toward the bag.

"What, no IRA, no 401K? Poncy buggers work you your whole life, and that's all you have to show for it?"

He scoffed.

"I guess you'll be really needing that social security, now, won't you?"

His voice was full of the derision and disgust he felt so fiercely. He deliberately goaded the watcher, leading him onward with barbs and slurs.

"Always knew you lot were a bunch of cheap bastards. Still,"

Here he took a thoughtful puff of smoke, considering.

"You'd think they could afford better. 'Specially what with what they must save in not having to pay retirement for slayers 'n all."

He stopped a moment.

"Hey, you blokes don't even pay her a salary, do you? That's right stingy, you know? Send a girl to save the world, bust her bum for a decade and then get popped off in combat- and you lot don't even offer minimum wage or a healthcare package."

He shook his head sadly.

"Shame about that, though, really. If your Watchers' Council actually paid her a living, she might not be out hawking pottery and picture frames."

Giles sighed wearily.

"Spike, this is not about Buffy."

Spike narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, it is. You're trying to buy her."

The watcher shook his head.

"No, Spike. I'm trying to save her. I'm trying to remove a destructive influence in her life, before things get any more difficult."

"You call it what you like. But I'm not leaving, and the slayer's not up for bids."

He stood, picking the bag up and throwing it at Xander.

"You can take your bribe and go now, Watcher. You're done here."

Giles was angry now. He'd been so certain this would work.

"You're destroying her, you know that, don't you? Every day she's with you, a little piece of her spirit dies. Buffy is a good, moral, decent person. You are decidedly none of those things. She compromises herself just by associating with you."

The old man was up in his face, now.

"I'll not let you ruin everything that is good in her. You'll end this, now. I want you out of her life."

His voice was sharp enough to slice glass.

"You take that money and go."

Spike snarled at Giles.

"What d' you think the Slayer would think about your little offer?"

Giles leveled a gaze at him.

"You won't tell her. And she wouldn't believe you if you did."

He paused briefly, then in the calmest, most mild mannered tone, he continued.

"If you refuse me, I shall find alternative means to remove you. I think there's money enough for that."

Spike sucked in his breath. He didn't know the old man had it in him.

"What, you'll have me killed?"

Giles smiled a Ripper smile, perfectly at ease.

"Would that I could do it myself."

He turned to Xander, who had grown increasingly pale during the conversation.

"Come. I think Spike needs more time to contemplate our offer."

He moved to leave, the bag still on the table.

"You leave that here, I'll burn it. I swear I will."

Giles turned in the doorway, studying him.

"Yes, I believe you would."

He motioned to Xander.

"Get the bag."

The boy complied, bridling visibly under Spike's withering gaze.

"You make a good lackey, boy," he said derisively.

"Shut up. I'll be back to talk to you later."

He meant to sound threatening, but he wasn't quite successful.

To Giles, Spike directed another question.

"You didn't honestly think I'd take it, did you?"

The older man glanced over at him dismissively.

"Yes, Spike. I really did."

Angel knew something was up right away.

Cordelia was being too sweet. She'd complemented his hairstyle and she'd served him warm blood in crystal. She'd pretended to be interested in his conversation, and she had yet to roll her eyes at him.

Gunn paced nervously around the room, occasionally looking at his watch.

Finally, Wesley entered, and the tension in the room became even more heightened.

What the hell was going on here?

"Good evening, Angel."

Wes was all politeness, but Angel could see something lurking in those bright eyes, some glint of purpose. Something was going down here tonight, at Wesley's instigation.

"Evening to you, Wesley," he drawled.

"How's it going?"

Wes took a deep breath.

"Actually, Angel, that's what we wanted to talk to you about."

Cordy interrupted suddenly.

"We know about your girlfriend, Angel."

Huh?

She went to her purse, and pulled out papers. She then walked over to him and chucked them into his lap.

"You leased a "love nest", on Divisadero, a one bedroom artist's loft with a view."

"Swanky neighborhood," chimed in Gunn.

She continued.

"You bought two tickets for La Boheme last week, balcony seats. You've run up an account at Llanii; for fresh flowers. Roses and delphiniums, mostly. You spent sixteen hundred dollars in Fantine's for engraved jewelry."

Here she stopped and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"They wouldn't tell me exactly what you bought. But I did get hold of the order slip for the engraving."

She produced a rumpled carbon, and read aloud,

Quote:

" to L, who understands."

She tossed this slip at him as well, and put her hands upon her hips as she stared him down.

"Are you trying to say that we don't? Understand? Because I have to tell you, I think that-"

Wesley stilled her tirade with a gentle hand placed upon her arm.

"That's enough, Cordelia."

She stepped back, clearly annoyed.

"Pray take over for me then, Wesley. You go right ahead."

The soft, kindly eyes sought his own.

"Angel, we realize how hard this past year has been on you."

Oh, yes, Wes, I'm sure you think you do, thought Angel impatiently.

His friend continued.

"But I don't think you've stopped to consider the seriousness of your actions."

Gunn shook his head at him then.

"Man, you just got through that mess with that Darla woman. You don't have it in you to get with some other chick right now. You'll hurt her. You're just reboundin', and that ain't no good for no woman."

Wesley was more direct.

"And have you given thought to the possible consequences?"

He looked so disturbed, that Angel thought momentarily of trying to put him at ease. Then he looked at the order form in his hand, coated in cigarette ash and tinged at the edge with what looked to be mustard. She'd been so desperate to convict him that she'd pawed through the jewelry store's trashcan. It was obscene, and he felt angry and violated. They were his friends, and yet they'd spied on him and followed him as if he were another case.

He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest.

"What consequences?" he asked.

Wesley shook his head wearily.

"Angel, you know that you run the risk of Angelus every time you allow yourself that sort of joy. A romantic relationship is DANGEROUS for you, because it risks unleashing the demon again."

Wesley was genuinely hurt now, and a little scared. It showed in the fierceness of his expression, and the desperation of his eyes. Angel ignored the urge to soothe, in favor of the need to rub their noses in his triumph. They were worried about Lindsay. They need not have been. He'd made a beautiful child, strong and powerful; made in his own image, a soulled creature like himself.

Maybe he should introduce them.

He smiled at the thought, and that smile unnerved the other men in the room. Cordelia, still pouting, missed the exchange of glances, and so was unprepared for what happened next.

Angel threw back his head and laughed, a long loud laugh that echoed in the tiny office.

"Dude, this is not funny. This is your SOUL we are talkin' about. It ain't like you can run down to the Thornton's and pick up another when you lose this one."

The mirth was unstoppable, now. He laughed so hard his sides ached with it.

" Angel, I do not see this situation as humorous."

He struggled to regain control of himself.
"You are so wrong. So very wrong. You are so off base it's a joke."

A mortal lover. As if he'd ever take another after Buffy.

He got slowly out of his chair, and moved toward the door.

"Where are you going?" demanded Cordy.

"You're such great snoops, you figure it out." He said.