60

Fear and Panic

"Whatcha planning for the wedding, babe?" It wasn't that he was trying to fix the bet or anything, Spike reflected, but he did have a certain amount of interest in the subject. Him being the groom and all.

"I don't have anything concrete yet," Rose replied, joining him under the covers. "Mostly I've been doing research on precisely what a wedding entails."

"Lot of falderal, most of it," Spike commented, not really caring if he was working against himself.

"With Fred's help, I had come to that conclusion." Rose tilted back her head and kissed his chin. "Besides, I wouldn't dream of making the arrangements without your input, darling. After all, it's your wedding too."

She'd already snuggled back into his shoulder, so Spike settled for kissing the top of her head. "The wedding is the bride's show, sweetheart," he informed her. "The groom is just a necessary evil."

"You're not evil," Rose protested, cocking back her head to look at him. She saw the glimmer of laughter in his eyes and realized that it was one of those multitudinous figures of speech, but still, she couldn't resist carrying on with it. "But I do agree that you're necessary. I find you very necessary."

Rose gazing at him with that adoring look in her eyes was something that Spike couldn't resist. And he didn't particularly care to try. His lips came down on hers.

Much later, when Rose returned to reality, she got back to the subject at hand. Or, at least an offshoot of it, which held a certain amount of interest for her.

"When I was researching weddings," she began a little hesitantly. "I came across a cross-reference. To bachelor parties. Will you be having one of them?"

Spike had been in a pleasant stupor, but memories of the explaining he'd had to do going to someone else's bachelor party brought him back to full consciousness.

"Er.., um.., I can't really say, luv," he stuttered. "It's the groom's mates that throw the bash for him. You'd have to sound out the chaps round about here on that one."

"Perhaps I shall," Rose mused. "You're a father now, and I don't think it's appropriate for you to be looking at a strange woman taking her clothes off."

He should have known she'd remember about that. "Well, I'll leave it to you to head them off at the pass," he replied. "Can't say as I'm all that interested in watching another woman take her clothes off anyway. I'd rather watch you take your clothes off."

"My clothes are already off," Rose pointed out.

"That's a hell of a time saver," Spike conceded, molding her body to his.

&&&&&&&&

Since Spike already knew about the training sessions, Rose decided to dispense with carrying a change of clothes with her. It was the weekend, the building was practically deserted, and besides, she was adequately clad. At least, after having spent years in Spike's company, she thought so. Therefore, she was in no way prepared for his protests on her attire.

"You're wearing that?" The disapproval in his voice was resoundingly clear. "You're barely dressed, pet."

"I am?" Rose looked down at herself. Snug, but stretchy capri slacks, and an equally form-fitting t-shirt which barely covered her sports bra. The picture was completed by her sweatband, and her sockless feet thrust into an ordinary pair of tennies. "Everything important is covered. And I've worn things considerably more..., extreme when you've taken me out sometimes."

"Yes.., but..," Spike sputtered, feeling helpless. She had a point, but that wasn't the point he wanted to make. "You were with me, then," he finished a little lamely.

"And it's different now because you're not going to be with me?" she guessed. She wasn't sure she was following his reasoning.

"Because you're going to be with my poncey grandsire," Spike muttered. He was starting to feel a right nit, but he wasn't quite ready to back down yet.

"You of all people should know that Angel is a perfect gentleman," Rose shot back. "I can't believe that you'd think that he would..,"

"I didn't," Spike interrupted. "But it's hardly fair to put ideas in his head, is it luv?" He gathered her into his arms. "If I had to be around you without touching you, I'd go bug-shagging crazy."

"Some people have a little more self-control than you do," Rose replied. "Besides, the outfit was Angel's idea. To give me plenty of freedom of movement without excess material to get in the way."

"And I'm being petty and jealous mentioning it?" Spike suggested ruefully.

"Maybe a little bit," Rose conceded. She tipped up her head and kissed him. "Just in case I haven't mentioned it lately, I love you."

"Love you too, babe," Spike murmured, lips grazing her cheek, working their way around to her ears. "Don't suppose you have time to..,"

He was interrupted by a pair of giggles, and turned to see the twins in the doorway, wide-eyed and amused.

"Guess not," he said with more than a touch of regret. "See you in a couple of hours then, pet."

&&&&&&&

Angelus reached the practice room early, then fidgeted and paced, impatiently waiting Rose's arrival. The strain of being Angel was starting to wear on him. He decided that it was time for the kid gloves to come off. And the delectable Rose would be an excellent place to start. He checked the time. Still a little early, but Rose was notorious for her punctuality. He was sure she'd be here before the appointed hour.

About five minutes before the pre-arranged meeting time, Rose walked in.

"You look awfully impatient," she remarked. "I'm not late, am I?"

"Perish the thought," Angelus replied. "No, Rose, you're not late. I'm early. Why don't we start right in with the sparring today?"

"But I thought you said I should always warm up first," Rose protested. "So I don't pull a muscle or something."

"If you're in the position of having to defend yourself against someone," Angelus pointed out. "You won't have time to warm up. What's the matter? Didn't Spike warm you up before you left?"

Rose turned beet-red. "That's not very nice," she muttered. She gave him a curious look. "You haven't been yourself this past week. Is it because you're worried that someone is going to steal your soul?"

"I'm not worried about that," Angelus said with a grin. "I'm not worried about that one little bit." He started circling her. He could take her before she could blink. He probably could even if she were on her guard. But where would the fun be in that?

Rose watched him warily, turning slowly to keep him in sight. "Something is wrong," she declared. "Maybe we ought to cancel today's session. Perhaps you'll feel more yourself next week."

"I've never felt better," Angelus vowed. He feinted a lunge at her, and nearly laughed aloud as she clumsily dodged it. "You're going to have to do better than that, Rose."

Rose's mind was beginning to make connections that her feelings didn't want to accept. Not that it would help anyway. The small, concealable trank gun was with the rest of her work paraphernalia back at home. It had never occurred to her to bring it along with her. "I'm not feeling too well," she mumbled, and it was no more than the truth. The thought of what had probably happened was making her feel distinctly nauseous. "I think I will cancel out on you today." She moved to leave, but he blocked her path.

"I don't think so," Angelus said, wagging a finger at her. "I'm calling the shots here, cutie pie. And I am far from done with you."

Now, Rose had to accept the unpalatable truth. "Angelus," she breathed. She tried leaving again, moving much faster, but she only had a human's speed. He easily cut off her escape.

"Now, now, Rosie, my girl," he scolded. "You really don't want to be pissing me off here. If you're a good girl, you might just get to leave here alive. Or a reasonable facsimile thereof."

"If you're talking about turning me," she half-whispered through fear-constricted vocal cords. "Then I don't think it will work. I'll still be dead, at least for a little while. Which will mean that Spike dies. Which will mean that I die. Is that what you truly want? Both of us dead?"

"Circular logic tends to make me dizzy," Angelus replied. "But you may have a point. I'll have to consider it. It won't stop me from having a little taste first, though."

Rose backed away from him, slowly, watching as he followed her, the confident smile never leaving his face. It wasn't long before she came up against a wall, and then, she started sidling along it, until her hand encountered something smooth, round, long, made of wood. It was a quarterstaff. She had no more idea how to use it than she had of quantum physics. Still, it gave her some small comfort to be in possession of a weapon. She swung it at him.

Angelus took the staff away from her easily and snapped it in two. "Naughty girl," he chided. "You don't usually have to learn things the hard way, Rose. Why are you being so thick now?"

"Because I don't want you to touch me," she quavered. She had heard of having your knees knock in fear, and now she could feel it. It was not a pleasant sensation.

"I touch you all the time," Angelus said. "I've even touched you in ways that no one else but Spike has."

"That was Angel," Rose shot back. "Not you. And we were under a love spell then."

"And I still can't believe that he had you there, on your back, ready for anything," Angelus grumbled, scowling. "Only to settle for a few kisses. I'm not going to settle for kisses alone, Rose. But we can start there."

"I won't kiss you," Rose said defiantly, even though she was near tears with terror. "Or anything else."

Angelus sighed. "You still haven't gotten it, have you? You're not leaving here until I let you go. And I'm not really feeling like letting you go now." He gave her a leer. "Shall I tell you how sometimes he still thinks about it? About how it felt when he had his tongue in your mouth? And how easy it would have been for him to have a lot more inside you?"

"That's a lie." Rose still kept moving away from him, not gaining, but maintaining distance. "Angel isn't like that."

Angelus laughed. "Okay, so maybe it's been me," he admitted. "Playtime's over, Rosie my dear. Make it easy on yourself and come here."

Rose hadn't halted her movements, and now, it was her undoing. Her foot tangled in one of the pieces of the broken staff, and she tumbled to the floor. Before she could gather her wits about her, Angelus was on top of her.

"That's better," he said approvingly. "Maybe I'll get you housebroken yet, kitten." He started nuzzling at her neck, just inhaling her scent. Teasing, prolonging the anticipation. Enjoying the smell of fear that came off her in waves. He was so assured that nothing could stop him that he didn't even think to immobilize her arms.

Angel may have been teaching her formal fighting moves, but Spike had long since taught her how to fend off unwanted suitors, seeing as he figured that every male that saw her would try to make a move on her. She gouged at his eyes with her thumbs.

He rolled off her, swearing, but bizarrely enough, laughing at the same time. It hadn't hurt all that much. Rose had still looked up and seen Angel's face, and couldn't bring herself to hurt him too badly. "You want to play rough, do you? That's fine by me. In fact, I prefer it."

Rose had rolled away from him and gotten to her feet in the few moments he had been distracted. She belatedly realized that the broken staff would make a serviceable stake. She made a dive for it, but a fully recovered Angelus blocked her.

"You just never quit, do you?" he remarked. He lunged and caught her arms and pinned her to the wall. "My turn now." He vamped out, and bent his head to her neck.

For a moment, Rose just froze in panic. It wasn't until his fangs started to penetrate the soft skin of her neck that her brain informed her that if she didn't do something soon, soon there would be nothing she could do. And with her hands out of commission, there was only one thing she could think of to do. Something else that Spike had taught her. This time, she couldn't see Angel, didn't have that to handicap her. She brought a knee up sharply into his groin.

Angelus doubled over with a grunt of pain, and Rose flew from the room, blood streaming from the wound in her neck, and fear lending speed to her feet.

She reached the elevator, and realized that it might not be the best idea. She didn't know how much control he had over the workings of the building, and didn't want to find out. When the door opened, she pushed the button to the senior partner's suite, and then got out and ducked around the corner. She looked wildly around for some sort of sanctuary, and realized that she was near Gunn's office. She tried the door, praying that it wasn't locked.

Miracle of miracles, it wasn't. She slipped inside, locked it, then piled anything in the room that she could shift in front of it. It wouldn't hold Angelus for long, once he figured out where she was, but it might buy her a few minutes. Now, what to do with those few minutes?

She looked wildly around the room, and was surprised to realize that she hadn't once thought about the telephone. She hurriedly dialed up the apartment. It rang what seemed like a thousand times before Spike picked it up.

"'Lo," he muttered. He wasn't big on telecommunications.

"Spike, if someone knocks on our door, don't let them in," Rose gasped. She instantly felt better, knowing that her family would be safe.

"Rose?" Spike sounded puzzled and then some. "What's going on, luv? And where are you?"

"I'm in Charles' office," she replied. She heard her name spoken outside the door and realized that her ruse with the elevator hadn't worked. "He's outside the door now. I've got it barricaded, but I don't think it will hold long."

"Who's outside the door?" Spike was beginning to panic now.

"Angelus," Rose said, as a rhythmic banging on the door announced that Angelus had figured out where she was.