**Dee cringingly offers late chapter and backs away slowly**

~*[+]*~
EPISODE ELEVEN
Jumping to the Conclusion

Wesley charged into the throne room with Fred at his heels, and was immediately confronted by Spike, still toting the lethargic and bloodied Slayer in his arms.

"Cavalry's here," the blonde vamp announced to his companions. He pursed his lips as he noticed that Wes was clutching an armful of books. "Make that 'librarians here'." He snorted. "Nice to see you've got your priorities straight. 'Oh quick, save the books!'"

"These books are the key to getting home, you ignorant nit," Wes retorted. "I'd much rather they were in my hands than the Covenant's."

"Not their hands they needed to worry about."

Spike peered down at the floor and calmly booted Silas' disembodied head across the room. It thudded into the wall and rolled into a side alcove.

"He shoots, he scores!" Buffy chirped, the comment escaping almost against her will. She groaned and butted her head against her partner's shoulder. "Ow. God, don't make me laugh."

"That wasn't me," Spike said. He bestowed an indulgent smile on his precious cargo, hitching her up a little higher and adjusting his grip. "You really have the strangest sense of humor, love."

Buffy snaked her arm around his neck, in exceptionally high spirits for someone with a stomach wound.

"Living on a Hellmouth leads to the warping of young minds," she informed him pertly, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Just ask Giles."

Fred peeked out from behind Wesley's shoulder. "I thought it was funny," she said. "Y'know, I always wanted to do that."

Wes looked at her in askance. "You harbor an aspiration toward head-kicking?"

Fred recoiled, almost colt-like in her skittishness. "Is that wrong?"

"Hell no," Spike reassured her. "'S a favored pastime in some circles of my acquaintance. Didn't get that good at it by chance."

Wesley blinked at him, not sure whether or not he should delve further into that particular topic, and then turned his attention beyond them into the room. Angel and Cordelia were huddled together on the small dais that held the throne. They were engaged in a whispered conversation and had eyes only for each other. "Ahh," he breathed. "Things seemed to have worked out for them."

"So far so good," Buffy reported, twining her fingers in the silvery curls at the nape of Spike's neck. "Seeing that he's only been back to normal for a couple of minutes."

Wesley stared at her. "He transformed into the Belial? And was able to maintain control in that state?"

Spike muttered something under his breath and Buffy casually slapped the head she'd previously been petting. He glared at her and they lapsed into one of their silent arguments.

She left off by raising her eyebrows pointedly. His scarred one twitched in reply and then she was back, indicating her crimson and purple splattered shirt with the easy aplomb of a game show hostess.

"May I present for your perusal, physical evidence of said metamorphosis and subsequent lack of controlly-ness."

"Ooh, words of more than one syllable from the Slayer," Spike snarked. "She's channeling my vocabulary. Injury must be worse than I thought."

She scowled at him. "Do you want me to slap you again?"

"Only if you do it in game face," he replied. "Make it hurt real good."

Buffy snickered at that. "Angel was right, you are a pervert."

"You know it, baby."

"Yes, but do the rest of us really have to hear it?" Wesley asked, his focus still trained on the couple by the throne. They had yet to acknowledge his presence and it was beginning to annoy him.

His eyes narrowed as Cordelia leaned in to trace her fingers along Angel's jaw. Oh now, that didn't bode well. Such physical closeness at so early a stage in their relationship could lead fairly quickly to other... intimacies, those of a soul-depriving sort. He cleared his throat. "Here now, I must object..."

"He says that a lot, huh?" Buffy murmured into Spike's ear.

"Stuck in a rut," he returned. "Needs a spot of romance in his life." He glanced speculatively at Fred. "Seems a likely candidate. Reckon she's got it in 'er to loosen him up?"

Buffy nipped at his lobe before answering. "She's stronger than she looks. I think she could give him a run for his money."

"Hidden depths," Spike mused. "I admire that in a girl."

"I am still here, you know." Wesley was flustered and red-faced, the unadulterated look of interest he was getting from Fred embarrassing him beyond reason.

Cordelia sashayed toward them, almost floating in her euphoria, the biggest, brightest smile they'd ever seen plastered on her face. Angel trailed behind her, but he had no real choice in the approach with his hand caught firmly in her grasp. He stubbornly refused to meet anyone else's eyes.

"Hey guys!" Cordy bubbled. "Is it time to get gone? I mean, you got what you came for, namely me, and I'm guessing that the big fight is, you know, over."

"We whupped their asses!" Fred blurted.

"Yes, we certainly did," Wes seconded mildly, which earned him one of the physicist's dazzling grins.

"See, they're all flirty and stuff," Buffy asserted, pointing a finger back and forth between the pair and nodding sagely. "Definite sparkage." She did a little celebratory jiggle. "Go me! I rock at this matchmaking thing."

Spike winced. "Let's get you seen to, pet. That neat little impairment of yours is givin' me twinges, and not the good sort that I..." He trailed off, his angular face draining of color. "Here." He turned and thrust Buffy at his flabbergasted Sire and dashed out of the room in a flurry of black leather.

There was a lull after he disappeared from view, and then everyone looked inquiringly at the Slayer.

She shrugged. "What? I think it's cool he gets the vomity part."

Amusement tugged at the corner of Angel's mouth, the first normal reaction he'd shown them.

Cordelia stared at the petite blonde sitting in Angel's arms like she belonged there and her expression hardened.

"So what's that about?"

Angel looked at her blankly. Then his eyes widened as he recognized her fear, shaking his head a little in denial of it. He wondered fleetingly if Buffy would mind if he dropped her, because she really wasn't the person he wanted to be holding right now.

"Cor, no. It's not what... It's - it's a side effect of their link," he sputtered, hurrying to clear up any misunderstanding. His voice sounded scratchy, like he hadn't used it in a while. "Spike's getting her morning sickness." He deliberately stressed the last part, trying to get across that he had no part in Buffy's life now.

"It's afternoon," Cordy said automatically, his meaning not quite registering for a moment. "Oh." She gaped at her former homecoming nemesis, unabashedly searching for visual evidence. "Oh! You're pregnant?"

The Slayer, who despite her declarations of health was looking slightly green around the gills, gave her a tiny affirmative nod. "Uh huh."

"Really pregnant? Like, having a baby pregnant?"

Buffy continued nodding. "Uh huh."

"With Spike."

"No, with Giles. Of course with Spike, you moron. And don't say his name like that."

"Like what?"

"Like he's beneath you. Talk about him like that again and I'll kick your sanctimonious ass, bloody gut wound notwithstanding."

Cordelia pulled a face. "When did you start talking like Wesley?"

"Yes, by all means, everyone continue to speak about me as though I'm not here, I enjoy it immensely." The former Watcher strolled past and placed the books on a side-table that was still relatively unscathed. He hauled a chair upright to sit in front of them. "Now that everyone is updated on the situation, I'd like to begin some research. Fred, I could use some of your expertise."

"Sure!" Fred gushed breathlessly. "I'd be real honored. Not that I wasn't before, but that wasn't actual helpin' per se, that was more like workin' out a few anti-this-dimension issues that I'd..." She tapered off into a pensive silence as she realized that they were all gaping at her. She ducked her head and shuffled her feet shyly. "Well, anyway, I'd be glad to help."

Spike had reappeared in the doorway just in time to catch the end of Wesley's announcement. A long white tablecloth was draped toga-like over one shoulder, making him look like he was acting out some queer Julius Caesar impersonation. He also looked very much like he wanted to throw up again.

"Oh, bloody hell," he lamented. "Did Junior just say the 'R' word?"

Cordy shook her head. "I take it back," she said to Buffy. "You don't talk like Wesley, you talk like him."

Buffy gave her a look that hinted at many grievous levels of bodily harm, then promptly ignored her. She reached for Spike like a fractious child, both arms outstretched, lower lip stuck out in a 'poor me' pout. "Honey, save me from the idiot people?"

"Save yourself," he shot back, but he was moving to do as she asked even as he spoke.

Angel returned her to the other vampire's care, a pleased smile casting rare light across his dark features as Cordelia instantly seized his arm and held him tightly at her side. Possessiveness, thy name is Cordy.

"Actually, the truly weird part is that he sometimes talks like Buffy," he told her.

"I so do not!" Spike protested, only to realize that he had inadvertently proved Angel's point. He frowned. "Bugger."

"Well, well, if it isn't the victorious wonder kittens," a new voice warbled. Everyone swung around to see Lorne waltzing in like he owned the place. "And wow, gotta tell ya, some major woo-hooiness goin' on in this room. Could feel the love vibes all the way outside." He beamed at them, delighted with the world in general.

"Is it just me, or is he way too happy?" Buffy asked. Not receiving an answer, she eyed Lorne with displeasure. "You're too happy," she informed him. "You're all loud and bright and stuff. It's giving me a headache."

"No, that would be me," Spike murmured against her hairline. "Post-regurgitation migraine. Try tuning out my pain reception for a bit."

Lorne came to an abrupt halt in the center of the room and gawked at the blonde duo, his mouth hanging open, ruby eyes wide and shocked. "Oh my hairy-legged Aunt!"

"And now you're wigging me out," Buffy accused.

Spike rolled his eyes, carried her to the throne and deposited her on it, unceremoniously yanking her shirt up to inspect her wound.

She batted his hands away, vainly trying to pull the hem back down. "Hey, stop showing everybody the merchandise!"

He snorted. "Oh right, because the sight of your shredded flesh is so alluring."

"All my parts have allure," she said. "I'm allure girl."

Spike tore the cloth he'd found into strips and set about dressing her injury with an easy proficiency acquired from years and years of improvised first aid. Any further Buffy witticisms and complaints were disregarded, along with the linked threats and chip-twinges she directed his way.

Lorne still hadn't budged. His mouth was moving, but no words were coming out.

Angel fixed him with a sidelong glance. "Is he alright?"

Cordelia waved a hand in front of the normally animated demon's vacant face. Then she tweaked one of his horns. "I'm gettin' a big nothing here," she announced. "A whole lotta zip."

Buffy gave Lorne a dubious once over. "Are we being all vibey or something?"

Spike chuckled. "I think his Nip-o-meter just hit eleven."

"Huh." She blinked. "So, is eleven of the good, or...?"

Lorne suddenly snapped out of his precognizant daze. He whistled, impressed. "Judas in a trench coat, didn't you get the pocket power pack?"

Spike whipped around and pinned him with a gaze that was almost glacial - his earlier cheer banished behind deathly composure. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh nothing, Blue Eyes, you'll hear all about it later. Or even sooner if we're lucky."

With that cryptic remark, the Host minced away to hover at Wesley's shoulder like a large, garishly dressed gnat.

"Long John Silver and his bloody parrot," Spike observed wryly, securing the final knot on Buffy's makeshift bandage with a sharp tug.

"So, what does that make Fred?" Buffy asked, straightening her shirt. She waggled her fingers through one of the slash holes and sighed.

"Beside nuttier than a fruitsack? You got me, sunshine."

"Maybe she could be his peg-leg."

They both dissolved into giggles at the corresponding image she sent him.

Cordelia had been watching their exchange with tight-lipped intensity. "You really are together, aren't you?" she asked. "You're all Mr. and Mrs. Inseparable Finish-Each-Other's-Sentences, big with the meaningful gazes and mushy pet-names and everything."

Angel gnawed at his lip, worry lines crimping his forehead. "Cor, I already said..."

"Yeah, I know what you said, I just didn't... God, it's true. You really were made for each other."

"Sickening isn't it?" Wes interjected, not even bothering to look up from the text he was engrossed in.

"It's... something." She folded her arms across her chest, feeling a bizarre kind of chill despite the room's moderate temperature.

Angel stood behind her and placed both hands reassuringly on her shoulders. "They're meant to be together," he said softly. "Just like we are."

She snorted inelegantly. "Yeah, well, you didn't see the extra special guest-starring roles they had in my vision."

Wesley's head shot up at that. "What? You had a vision?" His slate-colored gaze was unwavering behind his glasses, flinty. "When was this?"

Fred, who had been working doggedly through a puzzle of incomprehensible equations suddenly reached out and grabbed his forearm, excitedly directing his attention to something she'd discovered.

Lorne leant against the wall, crossed one ankle over the other and cocked an anticipative eyebrow at the quartet. He was expecting some fireworks here.

"We were in your vision?" Buffy demanded. "Spike and me?"

"I just said so, didn't I?" Cordelia snapped back.

"What exactly did you see?" Angel spoke very calmly, making a concerted effort to diffuse the weird tension in the air. It was buzzing around them like static. He almost expected his hair to start standing on end... more.

"It was fuzzy," Cordy explained. "Well, fuzzy-er. They're never big with the plasma screen clarity, but this was so far out of focus it was almost art-house. I did get a heap of happy 'me and my Angel' scenes..."

"Not too happy, I hope," Buffy ruminated sourly.

Spike was resting his head on her lap, having succumbed to the 'washed-out and hung-up-to-dry' feeling that accompanied these fabulous stomach-churning episodes. As he intercepted the thought, he choked on a laugh and winked up at her.

"...And I don't know how I know this," Cordy continued. "But it was in the future. Maybe a only year or so." She sent a puzzled glance over her shoulder at Angel, placing one of her hands over his. "Why would I be getting that now? Are we supposed to prevent it or something?" Her eyes widened. "Oh my God, maybe you turn into Angelus!"

"And maybe I don't," he defended. His brows twitched. "Wait, you don't... stake me, do you?"

"No, but from what I saw, Buffy was looking pretty damn powerful and super-Slayery. She probably gets all stake-first-ask-questions-later."

Spike lifted his head to study Cordelia, eyes scrunched up like he was looking into bright sunlight. He could feel Buffy's tension thrumming through his body and it was making him jittery. Which wasn't helping his nausea in the slightest.

"I wouldn't do that," Buffy objected. "Not to Angel."

"Oh right, I forgot. You have to wait until there are piles of dead people before springing into action."

The green of Buffy's eyes suddenly shot through with shards of yellow. She shifted on the throne, fingers digging into the padded armrests, visibly restraining herself from striking out. "You don't get to play mega-bitch with me, Cordelia. Ever."

"Who's playing?"

"Watch it, girly," Spike growled, teeth clenched tightly against his own sparking temper. He stood up very slowly, hands flexing into fists.

"Oh look, a vampire," Cordy mocked. "I've never seen one of those before. How incredibly not scary. Word of advice, Spike? The chalky 'if-I-move-too-fast-I'll-hurl' expression doesn't quite cut it as threatening."

"This is stupid," Angel said. "Being all antagonistic with each other isn't gonna get us anywhere."

"So speaks the voice of reason." Spike regarded his Sire skeptically. "Didn't see that featuring too heavily earlier, oh Beastly One."

Angel glared so fiercely that any other person, any normal sane person, would have been frightened into silence. Spike's skin was thicker than that... or maybe his head was.

"Don't see what we've done to earn the cheerleader's wrath anyway," the younger vamp continued, moving toward his Sire with a deceptively calm, controlled gait. "We throw off her moral compass or something? Bit rich, considerin' who she's taken up with."

Angel's nostrils flared, the Belial rippling beneath the surface of his skin. He stepped out from behind Cordelia and met Spike head on. "Don't push me, boy."

"Boy?" Spike gave him the most malicious smile in his extensive repertoire, an ugly curling of his lips. "You really want be comparing manly-man credentials with me at this point, Angelus?" A brief flicker of pain crossed his face, and he turned a petulant lour on Buffy. "What was that for?"

"You can stop being obnoxious now, honey."

"I wasn't..." Spike began, then sighed. "Alright I was, but he was in need a spot of ego-pricking, love."

"That's not the point," Buffy chided. "We're over it, okay?"

"Over what?" Cordy asked. "I don't get what set you off in the first place. You're both pretty testy. Is that because of hormones or something?"

Buffy scowled at her, and the whole squabble was poised to begin anew.

"Eureka!"

The triumphant cry came simultaneously from Wesley and Fred, and they both paused for a moment and stared at each other. Everyone else stared as well.

"Wow, you say it, too!" The young physicist marveled. "That's very coincidental, don'tcha think?"

"Indeed," Wes murmured. "One could almost say kismet."

Fred snorted at that, amused. "Well, sure. If ya believed in that kinda hooey."

"Excuse me, kiddies," Lorne interjected smoothly. "In light of the incredibly lame 'Eureka' moment, I'd just like to ask, 'what in Tarkna'?"

"I think we did it," Wesley said, the slight pink flush he'd developed after Fred's statement already dissipating.

"Yeah," Fred seconded. "See, I was openin' portals, but I couldn't tell where. You need the priest's formulas to control that on this side."

"So, we can go home?" Cordelia asked eagerly.

Wes nodded. "We can go home."

~*[+]*~

The portal appeared with a thunderous crack, followed by the sound of ions and atoms and locked-up brakes, all screaming with equal abandon. The boat-like shape of Angel's convertible careened through the split the in dimensional wall, only to smash straight into a wall of a different kind.

A solid brick wall.

A brick wall with large wrought-iron gates. The same gates that led into the rear courtyard of the Hyperion Hotel.

"Door to door service," Buffy commented, impressed. "Remind me to tip the chauffeur..."

"...Over a bloody cliff." Spike finished. "Can we go find my stomach now? Think it came out through my nose back there."

Angel ignored them, peering ahead through the rubble to the lights of the foyer beyond. There was a thin stream of vapor coming from the front of the car, so he'd probably wrecked the radiator too. This was gonna cost him an arm and a leg, and most likely a few other appendages.

"But worth it, right?" Cordelia asked. She knew exactly what he was thinking - crotchety old miser that he was.

"Absolutely." He beamed at her, a huge ear to ear grin. It looked kind of forced, but at least he was trying. "You okay?"

"Peachy keen," she assured him.

He nodded and then directed a glare past her at the Host. "There was a hot spot here the whole time?"

"Well, pardon my investigative shortcomings," Lorne sniped. "Next time I'll consult my handy map of mystical LA hot spots." He chuckled suddenly. "LA, my fellow dimension hoppers. May we never leave it again." He broke into a chorus of 'Sweet Home Alabama'. Not the most pertinent of choices, but the best he could do under the circumstances.

Spike sighed into Buffy's shoulder, silently bemoaning the demon's musical tastes. The Slayer remained perched on his lap despite the fact that the rest of seat was now otherwise empty. Wesley and Fred had leapt from the vehicle almost as soon as it had stopped moving and were huddled by the trunk.

"Are they still there?" Fred asked anxiously.

Wesley slammed the trunk shut, plunked a metal chest on it and then hurried to get that open.

Inside was another, slightly smaller box. He liberated it from the larger one and peeked under the lid. His shoulders slumped in relief.

"They're here." He began pulling the Trionic Ledgers one by one from their makeshift enclosure. "It seems you were quite correct in your hypothesis, Fred. A triple metal encasing was sufficient to protect them through the portal."

"Yay Fred," Buffy cheered, somewhat less than enthusiastically, then yawned and slumped back against Spike. "Tired now."

"Yeah," Spike agreed. He tightened his arms around her waist, his own eyelids suddenly feeling like they had lead weights attached. He blinked slowly, trying to hold them open. "You got a spare room in this joint, Peaches?"

Angel looked at him like he was insane, then turned back to Cordelia. "You sure you're okay?"

She was staring straight ahead at the foyer. "Yeah, but..." She gestured forward. "The lights are on, right? So someone's gotta be home. Why haven't they come out to see what's with the not-so-subtle invasion?"

Angel narrowed his eyes. "Good point."

They climbed out of the car and headed cautiously for the entrance.

Wesley was the last inside. He had the Wolf, Ram and Hart volumes cradled in his arms like they were the crown jewels Cordelia had been loathe to leave behind, but the moment he crossed the threshold, his precious burden fell unheeded to the floor.

"Good Lord!"

Drusilla and Gunn were holed up behind the reception counter. Gunn kept the vampiress behind him with one hand and held a carefully trained crossbow in the other. He sent them a tight smile. "Hey."

Dru clapped her hands. "Welcome back!" she enthused. "It's a special day. Everyone's invited, come one and all."

"'S lovely, pet," Spike drawled. He still hadn't taken his eyes off the other unexpected visitor. "Mind tellin' us why there's a ruddy great Keratos demon in the lobby?"


A/N: Biggest thanx to those of you who are still hangin' in there with me - I truly appreciate the continued support and hope it was worth the wait. I did want to get this episode out much, much sooner, but I've been possessed by the spirit of Book Three (Nasty business. Makes me spew words at an alarming rate). It's more or less writing itself, but don't you just love when that happens? However, (**Resolve face**) I won't be putting any more of that story up until this one is finished. - Cheers, Dee.