Buffy had worked herself into a seething tizzy by the time she got home. The vampire's hapless victim was now in the hospital, in serious condition according to the EMS crew who had treated her. The Book of Altador was gone, and so was the vampire who had stolen it out of Xander's car.
What a complete disaster, from start to finish. And to make her night just that much suckier, she sensed Spike long before she opened her front door. She had only seen him two or three times since she had broken up with him, and it was a new and innovative form of torture for them both.
She unlocked the door and stepped into the living room, where they were all waiting for her. She tried and failed not to search out Spike first. There he was by the couch, standing as always, arms crossed. How could the mere sight of him bring on such a cacophony of emotions? Fear and anger, lust and guilt, gratitude and annoyance. Everything except indifference, no matter how much she longed for it. Buffy tried her best to make her face expressionless. Battleshields at one-hundred percent, Captain.
The Scoobies jumped to their feet from their various seats, anxious for news.
"What happened?" asked Xander.
"I lost him." They didn't need to know the humiliating details of that particular adventure.
"And the book?"
She didn't bother to reply.
"I locked the car!" he said, more than a little shrilly.
Buffy angrily mimicked Xander. "'Let's pick up the book tonight, so we can FedEx it to Giles first thing in the morning' he said. 'And now let's stop by the Bronze for a drink' he said. 'The book will be okay in the car' he said."
"I covered it with my jacket!"
"'I'll lock the car' he said."
"I did lock the car!"
"You left the window rolled down, Xander! It was just luck that we saw them taking it!"
"Oh God, oh God, I'm sorry. Giles is going to kill me."
"He might have to take a number," she muttered. Xander looked so stricken she added, "I'm sure we'll get it back, though."
Buffy turned to Spike. Might as well get it over with. "Dawn?" she said to him by way of greeting.
"Asleep," he answered. He could smell the reek of burnt flesh on her, but wasn't sure if he should ask about it. They stood at a loss for words for a moment, then each scurried away from the other. Well, as long as it wasn't awkward or anything.
Buffy pulled Willow aside by her arm. "What's he doing here?"
Willow could tell something had happened between Spike and Buffy, but she wasn't sure what. A messy breakup after months of dysfunctional white-hot sex was not one of her top three guesses, however. "Xander had a little bit of a guilt fit on the way home. He decided Spike might be able to help us, so we dropped by his crypt and talked him into coming back with us, in case you didn't get the book back."
"Way to have faith in me."
"Yeah, I'd agree with you except, you know, no book." Good point.
"So he came, huh?" Buffy didn't know what to make of that.
"Yup. It took a little arm-twisting, but Xander was not above twisting whatever Spike part it took to get him in the car."
So, not really here by choice. That was better. Buffy set her Spike thoughts aside. Not too far aside, though. She liked to keep them close at hand, so she could take them out every few minutes and maul them.
"Okay, this is desperation time," Buffy told everyone grimly. "We've got to get that book back. If anybody has any ideas, I'm listening."
"We could call Giles," suggested Anya.
"Oh! I already did," Willow said, "just before Buffy got home."
"What did he say?"
"After he yelled at me for our 'gross mismanagement of a simple favor' to him? Or after he yelled at me for us losing a 'major source of arcane power'? He said we better bloody well get it back, because he didn't want to think about what would happen if something evil used it. He's contacting his...contacts in town, in case somebody hears something."
Buffy ran a hand through her hair. Spike looked down at his feet, like the sight of it hurt his eyes. "Look," she said, "there's a chance our vampire is still in town. He told me he'd just arrived today, so he might still have business here. We have to try to find him. I got a good look at him out of vamp face - I'd recognize him if I saw him again. I could do a search of...Sunnydale."
The silence was deafening.
"Well, what else can we do? Come on!" Buffy implored.
"There is something," said Spike finally. Reluctantly. Wondering what personality defect drove him to assist the source of all that was fucked up in his vampire existence. "A long shot."
"Have you noticed how we never seem to get the short shots?" noted Xander.
"You lot ever heard of The Gathering?" Spike asked them. Blank looks across the board. "It's a meeting of vampires that takes place every ten years. Interested parties from all over meet at a prearranged location to catch up, have some fun, see who's been dusted."
"Sounds suspiciously like a high school reunion," said Xander.
"Something like that. The thing is..."
Buffy interrupted him. "Whoa, whoa, how can I have not heard of this?"
"Because you're the Slayer? Wouldn't really work if you did, would it? As I was saying, this fellow who nicked the book, he said he was new to town. And it just so happens The Gathering is tomorrow night. In Sunnydale. Maybe that's a coincidence, maybe not."
'In Sunnydale? And I didn't know about it?" Buffy was flummoxed.
"Yes. They pulled a fast one on you. You're in the dark. Out of the loop. Let's move on."
"Move on? Why didn't you tell me about it?"
Spike gave her a wounded stare as he climbed aboard the good ship Bitter Much. Yeah, somehow he'd forgotten to tell her about The Gathering all those times they snuggled in the afterglow of their romantic nights together.
However, all he said was, "Because you were twelve when the last one took place. And because it's none of my business. Really, if they're dancing the night away instead of biting away, what's the harm? It's one night, then they're gone."
"So your plan is what? That I go in there, and if I can find him, I should drag him out kicking and screaming in front of all of his friends?" she asked.
"No, you couldn't do that even if you wanted to," he told her, wisely ignoring her sarcasm. "You can imagine trying to deal with a mob of drunken vampires, so after a few decades of bloody mayhem, the organizers finally got the bright idea to arrange for a dampening over whatever building they're meeting in."
"You mean they hose them down?" asked Anya.
"No, no," said Willow, "a dampening spell sort of waters down whatever supernatural powers it comes in contact with. It's harmless, but everyone within the circle of the spell is brought down to a level, human playing field. They'd still be vampires, but they wouldn't be able to turn. And they wouldn't be super strong, or super anything else, either."
Spike nodded. "That's right. So barging in would be foolish I would think, because your Slayer strength would be gone as well, and they'd be able to kick your ass from here to there. Better you should sneak in. I could come along in case there's trouble. And if you ID the guy, we can follow him right to the book."
"That's crazy!" said Xander. "Buffy in a room full of vampires, with no Slayer power? You're nuts."
"Well, Harris, if you have a better idea, now's the time." Spike raised his eyebrows.
Xander snorted, but what could he say? He was the one who'd dragged Spike here to help them.
"Of course it's crazy, but that's the beauty of it," said Spike reasonably. "The Slayer, infiltrating The Gathering? No vampire could possibly see it coming."
They waited for Buffy's opinion. She sighed. "How could we work it?" she asked Spike.
Before he could reply, Anya ushered Buffy to a seat at the dining room table. "You'll need a disguise to hide your blonde Slayer sexiness," she said with some excitement, "or the book stealer will recognize you and run away. Or another vampire will recognize you and they'll all tear you to pieces. So...we want something that will make you fade into the woodwork." She looked at Spike. "What manner of dress would be expected at The Gathering?"
He shrugged. "Well, I've never been. Bunch of poofters, kissing each other's cheeks hello and whatnot? Not my cup of tea. I know it's not black tie, if that's what you mean. But I imagine they'll be trying to impress."
"So Buffy needs to be leaning towards...frumpy business casual?" Anya turned to Tara and Willow. "I'll bet you two have plenty of unattractive lesbian clothing to ward off men's advances."
They gave Anya the patented Wiccan glare of vexation. Then they went upstairs to plunder their closet.
"And she'll need a wig," said Xander. He hated the plan, but the chance to dress up Buffy was not to be squandered. "I think I saw some wigs in the basement, from when Joyce was sick." He was off in a shot.
"And maybe some glasses, to ugly her up?" Anya suggested to Spike.
Spike couldn't imagine Buffy being ugly even if she gave up bathing and started wearing sack cloth, but he was getting curious to see what would happen next. Better than Trading Spaces, this.
"Vampires don't wear glasses," Buffy pointed out.
"Some do," said Anya. She dug through her purse. "I may have my Lisa Loeb knockoffs with me."
"Why would vampires wear glasses if they don't need them?"
Spike made a noise of disgust. "The same reason humans do. I know you want to believe that vampires are all a bunch of sodding animals, but we are individuals, you know. Just because we're evil, doesn't mean we can't have a sense of fashion." He thought his duster made that point in and of itself.
"'Cause bloodstains are this year's black," retorted Buffy. Then mentally kicked herself as he gave her a satisfied smirk. What had she learned in Psych class a thousand years ago? To some kids, negative attention is better than no attention.
Xander emerged from the basement with a mud-colored, blunt cut wig in hand, just as Willow was draping a brown turtleneck sweater over Buffy's peasant blouse. A matching plaid knee-length wool skirt lay beside them on the table. "We thought we could pad you, so you wouldn't be so Buffy shaped," Willow said.
Xander gingerly placed the wig on Buffy's head, and Anya followed suit with her thick-framed, nonprescription glasses.
They examined the new Undercover Buffy while Willow ran to get a mirror from the bathroom.
"Damn," said Xander.
Willow held up the mirror so Buffy could see herself. "And voila. Geeky female vampire."
Buffy tried not to look too stricken.
"She looks like a girlie Roy Orbison," said Xander.
"No! I know! She's Velma," said Willow triumphantly.
"I'm not Velma!" objected Buffy. "I'm Daphne!"
"Not anymore," Spike said. And let himself thoroughly enjoy her distress.
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with Velma," Willow told them. "Smart girls can be sexy, too. Even with knee socks." They looked at her. "They can!" She turned to Tara for confirmation.
"Of course they can, sweetie," Tara assured her. She rubbed Willow's back kindly.
"It's perfect," Anya told Buffy. "No one will glance at you once, never mind twice."
Buffy abruptly stood, pushing the mirror away as the sweater dropped to the floor. "Fine. Whatever. It just better work, that's all I have to say."
"That's all? I find that hard to believe," Spike said softly to no one in particular. Xander covered his laugh in a cough.
"Where do we have to go tomorrow?" Buffy asked Spike loudly. She'd forgotten what a royal pain in the ass he was. In the Annoyance Olympics, Spike would get shin splints from mounting the podium so often.
"The Marriott. Convention Room B, I think," he told her.
"Wait. They rented a room at the Marriott?!"
"These aren't your everyday vampires, let's just say. You'll see. Anyway, you get there around midnight. I'll already be there."
Spike tossing out orders rubbed Buffy entirely the wrong way. As opposed to his ability to rub her entirely the right way. "No, you get there around midnight. And I'll already be there." Her voice sounded bitchy even to herself. Spike-rub thoughts will do that to a Slayer. God, she wished he wasn't here!
Spike's mouth twitched. He couldn't tell if he wanted to smack her or kiss her. Maybe smack her, then kiss her. Wouldn't be the first time. "Right," he said agreeably. He knew that would irritate her the most. "I'll see you then, then," he told her. And got the hell out of there.
Spike liked to think he could handle most high-pressure situations, but being Buffy's ex was unraveling him. And what "ex" was he, exactly? A part of him still wanted to say he was her ex-boyfriend, but he knew he was kidding himself. Ex-sexual drug of choice to deal with coming back from the dead. Wouldn't really work on a resume, would it? Time to get back to his nice, quiet, Buffy-free crypt.
Buffy locked the door behind him, fighting the impulse to peek out the window and watch him stride down the street. It looked like she'd be spending tomorrow night as an ugly vampire at a vampire convention, with Spike breathing down her neck the entire time. Or not breathing. Whatever.
Just another Saturday night in Sunnydale.