Title:
A Measure of Happiness
Author: Valerie
Disclaimer: All characters
owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox, etc. I own nothing.
Summary: More post-Giftage.
This is essentially a B/S romance (with sex, of course), but also will
eventually deal with grander themes of good and evil.
Rating: R for adult
concepts, language and semi-descriptive sex.
Spoilers: Through the end
of Season 5
Feedback: Yes please!
Distribution: Sure. Just
let me know.
Author's Note: The title of
this chapter is taken from the St. Crispin's Day speech in Henry V by
William Shakespeare (Act IV, Scene III). You know, the one Giles and Spike
paraphrased in The Gift. And if you haven't seen the 1989 Kenneth
Branagh film, see it; it rocks.
Chapter 16: We Few, We Happy Few
"Are they here
yet?"
Willow and Tara stood in
the doorway of Xander and Anya's apartment. "Nope," answered Xander,
who was holding a big bowl of popcorn. "Come on in." The girls
followed him into the living room and Willow deposited a Blockbuster bag in
front of the TV.
Anya came out of the
kitchen, carrying chips and a bowl of guacamole. "Oh," she said
disappointedly, "I thought it might be them. Not that I'm not glad to see
you guys," she clarified, setting the food down on the coffee table.
Xander flopped down on the
couch, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "Does anyone else feel like this
evening isn't as much about watching movies as it is about observing the freak
show that is Buffy and Spike?"
"Xander, be
nice," Willow warned. "We need to be supportive of Buffy in
this."
"I am
supportive," Anya proclaimed. "I don't see what the big deal is.
Spike is a good guy now, plus he's a hottie. If Buffy wants to have sex with
him, I say, more power to her."
"It's not so much the
sex," Xander said, then made a face. "OK, it is a little bit. But
what I mean is, now they're, what, a couple? He's her boyfriend? How sick is
that?"
Anya stood over Xander, her
hands on her hips. "Xander, you are the one who told her to follow her
heart; you told me so. Are you saying that was bad advice? Because I don't
believe that it was."
Xander pulled Anya onto his
lap, kissing her. "No, I don't think it was bad advice." He sighed,
then looked at the others. "It's just going to take some getting used to,
is all."
"I bet he's good in
bed," Anya mused.
"She told me he
is," Willow said, a little excited to be the one with the spicy gossip.
"She talked to you
about that?" asked Anya, all ears. "What else did she say?"
At which point Xander put
his hands over his ears and began singing loudly and tunelessly.
"La-la-la-la-la!!! I'm not listening, I'm not listening!"
The doorbell rang, and for
a second they all stared toward the door as if all the demons of hell were on
the other side of it. Anya was the first to snap out of it. "I'll get
it," she said, hopping off Xander's lap and dashing to the door.
"It's not like the six
of us haven't done stuff together since Buffy's resurrection," Tara said.
"Maybe it won't really be different." But when Buffy and Spike walked
in holding hands, Xander gave Tara a look that said it was indeed different.
"We brought margarita
fixings," Buffy offered, holding up a grocery bag. "Direct me to your
blender."
Anya and Buffy headed into
the kitchen. Spike flopped down on a vacant chair, grabbing a chip and dipping
it into the guacamole on his way. "So let me guess. I'm gonna judge from
your awkward expressions that you've been talking 'bout us. Am I right?"
"No, no, no, no, no
... yes," said Xander, putting on his best Eric Idle impression.
"Spike, we're just ...
getting used to the idea of the two of you as a couple, that's all," said
Tara. "But I don't want you to feel like you're getting major Scooby
scrutiny. I know that can be uncomfortable," she said, thinking of herself
when Willow had first told the others about their relationship.
"Look, I don't
really care what you lot think. But Buffy does, and I don't want her
unhappy."
"Neither do we,"
said Xander seriously, staring Spike down. After a few seconds, he decided to
lighten the mood. "Hey, if this means no more visits to Sunnydale from
Angel, I'm all for it."
Spike snorted in agreement.
The whir of the blender and Anya's laughter could be heard coming from the
kitchen.
"I talked to Giles on
the phone day before yesterday," Willow offered. "I told him about
the Ba'ar-Pama situation, and he was suitably impressed with our victory. I
left out all the uncomfortable love-triangley parts, though," she added,
glancing at Spike apprehensively. "Much as he's glad to be away from the
Hellmouth, he still likes to be kept up on all the demonic goings-on here."
"So how's he liking
being back in the belly of the Watcher's Council beast?" asked Xander.
"OK, I guess. On the
one hand, the head guys like Quentin Travers don't really trust him or keep him
completely in the loop, but on the other, apparently he has like a legendary reputation
with the younger Watchers. Five years on the Hellmouth means he's faced like
twenty times more demons than anyone else there." She giggled. "He
said one guy even asked for his autograph."
"So are they just
going to let Buffy keep flying solo? I can't imagine with this huge Armageddony
battle somewhere on the horizon that the Council is just going to leave Buffy
alone. It doesn't really fit," Xander commented.
"I know. But Giles
believes that Quentin is almost certainly keeping him in the dark when it comes
to decisions about Buffy. You know, on account of his 'unprofessional
attachment' to her."
"Well, what good does
it do us having him on the inside then?" Xander asked petulantly.
"How are we going to be prepared for when they send the next Wesley-clone
to try to keep the Slayer in line?"
"You know, Wesley
wasn't anything like you guys described," Tara interjected.
"Yeah, he must've
found a surgeon in L.A. to remove the pole from his ass," said Xander as
Anya and Buffy reentered the room, juggling drinks.
"Who?" asked
Buffy as Spike jumped up and took a couple of the drinks from her.
"Wesley,"
answered Willow, taking a sip of her margarita. "Yum."
"So what movie did you
get for us, Will?" Xander asked. Buffy settled in the chair Spike had
occupied and he sat on the floor at her feet.
"Oh! I got Henry
V!" she said, jumping up and going over to the VCR.
Xander groaned.
"Shakespeare? I don't know, I was kind of hoping for something a little
less thinky."
"Xander, you should
give it a chance; it has a little of everything," she said, popping the
tape in. "It's Shakespeare, it's got a gruesome battle scene for the guys,
and it's got Kenneth Branagh for the ladies."
Spike sputtered at that.
"Kenneth Branagh? I mean, he's a fine interpreter of Shakespeare, I
suppose, but, come on, the man has no discernable upper lip. How can you find
him attractive?"
Willow shrugged, grinning,
as she plopped back onto the sofa and snuggled with Tara.
"This is the girl
who's always had a crush on Giles that we're talking about," Buffy said,
laughing.
As the evening wore on, the
group became a little more comfortable with each other, laughing at each
other's jokes as they watched the movie. However, Xander was still hyper-aware
of Buffy and Spike, his eyes drawn to the way Spike absently caressed Buffy's
leg as he sat on the floor at her feet. Xander shook his head and dragged his
eyes back to the screen, repeating what was becoming almost a mantra in his
head. I will support Buffy, I will support Buffy ...
"See, that's what
I was talkin' about," Spike said, looking up at Buffy and gesturing to the
screen during the St. Crispin's Day speech. "That's the kind of
speech you've gotta give to the troops before we go into battle."
She raised an eyebrow.
"I don't know, hon, I'm not much for speeches."
Hon? thought Xander.
After the movie, Buffy
yawned and stretched. "I've gotta get home early, guys. I actually have
something major going on early in the morning."
"Demon?" asked
Willow.
"Job interview,"
replied Buffy. "I took your advice, Will. I'm going to try teaching self
defense."
"Staking Vampires
101?" asked Xander.
"No," she said,
rolling her eyes. "But if the class seems to be ... aware of what goes on
here in Sunnydale, I might try Running Away from Vampires Brandishing a Cross
101."
Spike and Buffy left the
apartment and got into his car, which he steered toward her house. "I
meant it about going to bed early," she said. He grinned at her
lasciviously. "I mean going to sleep early," she reiterated.
He sighed. "Fine, I'll
just drop you off then, like a proper date." But when they got to her
house, it was at least five minutes before she actually got out of the car and
headed up the walk, straightening her clothes and grinning furiously.
Spike headed back to his
crypt, musing on the evening. It was somewhat tiresome to him, playing the part
of a normal boyfriend. He liked the Scoobies fine in relatively small doses,
but spending an entire evening with them ... Oh, well. If it made Buffy happy,
he'd put up with it. He savored the memory of her kisses as he opened the heavy
crypt door.
His vampire senses
registered several things very quickly. There was someone in his crypt, make
that three someones, and they had human heartbeats. He felt the sensation of
one of them swinging a weapon at him, so he quickly dropped and rolled, coming
up in a defensive position facing the doorway, where the threat had been. He
prepared for another attack, but before it came, the sound of torches being lit
made him spin to face the interior of the crypt. Standing there were two men:
one was older, holding only the torch, and the other was in his thirties and in
addition to the torch, held a crossbow that was trained on Spike's chest. A quick
check behind him verified that the third man was also armed with a crossbow. Wonderful,
he thought. And who are these tweed-clad buggers here to threaten my
life in the middle of the night – Then he realized.
"Excuse me for askin',
but you gentlemen wouldn't happen to be from the Watcher's Council, would
you?" he said, holding his hands out in as non-threatening a manner as he
was capable of.
"That's correct,
William," said the older man. "Name's Quentin Travers."
"Oh right, Quentin.
The Slayer's told me all about you," he said, smirking. "What brings
you and your thugs to my humble abode? If you'd like, I can point you to the
nearest Holiday Inn –"
"We don't have time to
bandy words about, William. I've had an exhausting flight, and I would like to
have a lie down, but my job always comes first. So allow me to get right to it
and tell you a story."
Spike said nothing, just
raised an eyebrow questioningly. The Watchers placed their torches in the wall
sconces of the crypt.
"You and the Slayer
are ... close, aren't you?" asked Travers.
Spike tried to read what
was behind Travers' question, but failed. "I've been helping her with her
training, going on patrol with her, if that's what –"
"That's not what I
mean. I mean, you are in love with her."
"What of it?"
"And she ... she is in
love with you." Travers said, looking a little bit like he had eaten
something unpleasant.
"Is there a point to
this?" Spike asked angrily.
"Are you familiar with
the concept of a forked prophesy?" Travers asked, changing the subject.
"Enlighten me,"
Spike said, backing up slightly so he could keep both of the armed men in view.
"A forked prophesy
contains two prophesies that are mutually exclusive. Either one will happen, or
the other. Somewhere along the line, and it's never at all clear exactly where,
an event occurs that causes one of the forks to be chosen. At that point, one prophesy
becomes true, the other, false. Are you with me so far?"
"I believe so, but
maybe some visual aids would be helpful," Spike said sarcastically, moving
slightly closer to the Watcher standing closest to Travers.
Travers ignored the
comment. "Are you aware that there is a prophesy about you? You and the
Slayer?"
"Is that right?"
Spike asked innocently, not wanting to give anything away.
"Yes. A very important
one. Some used to believe this prophesy referred to your grandsire, Angel.
Others, myself included, thought it referred to some future Slayer and vampire.
Now we know that it is indeed Buffy that this prophesy is about. But the
vampire is not Angel, it is you."
Spike was tiring of this.
"Well, that makes me feel awfully special."
"Don't you want to
know what the prophesy says?" Travers asked curiously.
"I'm gonna take a wild
stab in the dark and say it's one of these forked buggers," Spike
answered, again moving almost imperceptibly toward the armed Watcher to his
right.
"It is. One fork shows
you and the Slayer fighting together on the side of good in the great battles
to come. In this event, the forces of good likely win the war against evil, and
the universe is saved from eternal darkness and chaos."
"And the other
fork?" Spike asked, curious in spite of himself.
"The other fork also
deals with the union between you and the Slayer, but the circumstances are
different. In this outcome, the Slayer is pulled away from the light. The two
of you fight for the forces of evil. Good is defeated; chaos reigns
supreme."
"Why are you telling
me this?"
"Let's just say to
fulfill a personal curiosity on my part; I wanted to see how you would
react."
"Well, I'm gonna start
with 'sod off'," sneered Spike.
Travers chuckled, then
continued his lecture. "Prophesy is never absolute, William. Things can
always be done to avert prophesy, even one as central as this one. And as much
as I'd like the left fork to be the true one, I am not willing to allow for
even the most remote possibility that it will be the right fork. In short, I am
here to ensure that neither fork is possible. It will make the great war more
difficult for the Slayer in the end, but we feel that even without you, she has
a better than even chance of prevailing."
Spike could tell where this
was going, but he continued playing dumb. "So, what, you here to chase me
off? 'Stay away from the Slayer,' all that rot?" He again moved just the
slightest bit to the right.
Travers laughed outright at
that. "Chase you off? That's very funny, William. Very funny. But, no. We
aren't here to chase you off. We're here to kill you."
Spike was unsurprised at
that. "So why the long lecture first? Why not just do it? Why not send one
of the famous Council retrieval squads?"
Travers shrugged.
"Again, primarily professional curiosity. I wanted to meet William the
Bloody, killer of two slayers, lover of another, to whom such great prophesy is
tied. As far as the retrieval squad goes, well, not to insult you, William, but
it hardly seemed necessary. Rupert and Buffy explained the chip in your brain
in full to us. We know you cannot hurt us."
"How are you planning
on explaining on my sudden absence to the Slayer?" Spike didn't care what
the answer was, he just needed to stall long enough to get in position. If he
could disarm the two Watchers quickly enough, the resulting headache might not
matter. He might have a slim chance of getting out of this.
"We weren't planning
on explaining it, actually. She will never know that we were here."
Now, thought Spike, once more into
the breach. With lightening motion, before the slower humans could do as
much as blink, he had jerked the crossbow out of the hands of the nearest
Watcher, swung around, and fired at the arm of the one near the door. The
crossbow bolt buried itself in the Watcher's arm and his own crossbow clattered
to the floor. Spike braced himself for the searing pain in his head.
It didn't come.
Without missing a beat,
Spike turned on Travers, his demonic visage coming to the fore. "Quentin,
my friend, it would seem that you've made a tactical error."
TBC! (duh.)