143

Communications

"Excuse me, sir." The messenger approached Angelus cautiously. After his announcement that he'd start slaughtering people if Spike didn't show up, anyone who could think up any sort of excuse to do so was making a discreet but hasty exit.

"What?" Angelus asked impatiently. He was enjoying himself, and this jerk had to spoil it, bothering him with business.

"It's about the company jet that your friend was on, sir." The messenger was hard put not to stammer. "It appears to have crashed in one of the more remote jungles of South America. Do you wish to initiate a search and rescue operation?"

"Why bother?" Angelus queried. "The jet's probably a total write off. If the pilot isn't already dead, he will be, as soon as Dru gets hungry. And being lost in the jungle for a while will guarantee that I don't have her getting underfoot."

"Yes, sir." The man started to leave, but Angelus, moving lightning fast, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him close. All the while, scarcely seeming to look at him. His eyes were riveted on the clock.

"Thirty, twenty-nine," he counted down. "Nothing personal here, guy. Twenty-six, twenty-five..,"

&&&&&&&

"Changing of the guard, Rosebud," Lorne called out cheerily. "How's my favorite patient?" He walked into the bedroom, where Rose was ensconced with the laptop.

"I'm talking to the children," Rose said with a smile. She was so absorbed, it didn't occur to her to wonder where Spike was and why. "When we realized we were all on the computer, we started instant messaging. It's almost as good as having an actual conversation. Except I can't see their little faces."

"That's wonderful, blossom," Lorne replied. He would never have thought that anyone could distract her from Spike, but if there was someone that could, those someones would be the moppets. "Give the munchkins my love and tell them I miss them."

"'Right back at you, Uncle Lorne'," Rose read a moment or two later. "Where do they learn to talk like that?"

&&&&&&&

"Eight, seven, six, five..," Angelus had almost finished the countdown. ".., four, three..,"

"I'm here, you ruddy git," Spike snarled. The damn lift from the flat took so bloody long he'd had to run full out the rest of the way. If he was human, he'd be out of breath.

Angelus tossed the man aside without a thought. "One thing I'll have to give you, Spike," he said with grudging admiration. "You always did know how to make an entrance."

"And you always knew how to be a royal pain in the ass," Spike snapped. "I called in today, you ponce. I had legitimate grounds for it, and I bloody well resent having you calling me in for what is basically a part of the job when I've taken the damn day off."

"My heart bleeds," Angelus said insincerely. "By the way, how is darling Rosie? Getting the bloom back in her cheeks?"

The messenger had disappeared, and so had everyone else. They had the practice room all to themselves. Angelus tossed a staff to Spike, who caught it deftly and instantly lashed out at his grandsire with it.

"You don't talk about Rose," Spike growled. He swung his staff again, and just barely missed Angelus' midsection with it. "You don't even think about her."

"But I do think about her," Angelus replied with a grin. He took an experimental jab at Spike, which Spike parried with a contemptuous flourish. "I think about her a lot. You might call her my current project."

"Find another project," Spike demanded. "Rose is off limits to you. If you don't stay the hell away from her..,"

"You'll stake me," Angelus finished for him. "Geez, Spike, that one's getting old. Haven't you gotten a new tune to sing yet?"

"Don't notice you changing the melody yet," Spike replied. He aimed a blow at Angelus' knee that hit with a resounding crack, but failed to topple his opponent over as he had intended.

"But I'm tone-deaf," Angelus pointed out. "I may not be able to sing the tune, but I do know what I like. And I'd really like to turn little Rosie."

"You'll kill us both," Spike predicted. He even hoped it was the truth. Better that than to have his beloved Rose turned into a vampire. Evil, soulless and totally unable to appreciate the love between them or for their kids. Better for both of them to be dead.

"Maybe." Angelus wasn't ready to concede the point yet. "But hey, I'm a betting man. And if I bet right, I have Rose as a vampire. And you have jack. I find that I really like that idea."

"What if you bet wrong?" Spike asked. He didn't intend to let Angelus near Rose again, but as has been pointed out so often, shit happens.

"Then, I guess as godfather of your children, I take over raising them," Angelus mused. "Personally, I think you're doing a piss-poor job of it anyway. They've got those fangs for a reason, Spike. And the poor little tykes have never had a chance to use them."

"You're not the only godparent," Spike pointed out. He made another swipe at Angelus, but missed completely. Despite his best intentions, Angelus' ribbing was rattling him. "If you'll recall, everyone got into that act."

"How are the wedding plans going?" Angelus asked. He wasn't really interested in the kids right now. And he didn't think he'd ever be interested in raising them. It was just a way to dig at Spike. But Rose was more convenient. "Assuming, of course, that there actually ever is a wedding."

&&&&&&

Rose clicked 'send' one last time and sighed. "We've arranged to do this every day," she explained to Lorne, who had remained during the entire electronic conversation. "It's a way to keep in touch with them, I suppose. But I really wish I had my babies here."

"We're working on it, dollbaby," Lorne assured her. "Every waking moment." He took one of her hands and patted it gently, as if afraid that she would break. She really did look extremely fragile. "Why don't we put the computer away for a while now?" he suggested. "You look so tired, sweetie. Maybe a little nap would be just the thing to put the roses back in your cheeks."

Rose obediently turned the computer off and set it on the bedside table. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep," she mumbled, even while settling down on the pillows and letting Lorne tuck her in. "I'm too keyed up."

"Let's see if Uncle Lorne can help with that," he replied. He thought for a moment, trying to think of something soothing, to calm her jangled nerves and help send her off to dreamland. "'When the blackbird in the spring On the willow tree Sat and rocked, I heard him sing Singing Aura Lea'..,"

&&&&&&

Oz supposed that he and Alaric should be sharing one of the two bedrooms at their disposal, leaving Ariel on her own. But with the kids so far from home and their parents, he just couldn't bring himself to separate them, so, the twins were sharing a room. He was glad that they and Rose had found a way to keep in touch with each other. It might help keep them from feeling so alien. And he knew that they did. A pair of pint-sized vampires, surrounded by Watchers and Slayers were bound to feel out of place. Come to that, he didn't feel so comfortable. But, he thought to himself, he was an adult. He was supposed to be able to deal. The twins were just kids, unused to all the new faces, unused to being away from home and their parents, and unused to being somewhere where they weren't universally loved. It was an awful lot to adjust to, then to have the threat of Angelus hang over their heads. He sighed. They were actually holding it together very well when everything was taken into consideration. They were amazing kids. He checked in on them one last time, and saw them sleeping the sleep of the innocent, faces looking positively seraphic. He left the door ajar, then turned on his laptop to catch up on his online college courses.

&&&&&&

Spike entered the apartment to see Lorne, sitting on the sofa, talking quietly into his cell phone. When he noticed that Spike was there, he made a quick apology and shut the phone off.

"She's sleeping," he explained quietly. "She had a nice little chat with the kiddies, then I sang her to sleep. It didn't take too much. She still seems awfully frail."

Spike nodded and flopped down on the sofa. One of his eyes was purpled up and swollen. He had no one to fault for that but himself, he'd let his guard down and deserved a reminder of what happened when you did that. "I'm not surprised," he remarked quietly. "I think if Angelus had taken just a couple of more drops, he would have done for her."

"It's a shame that there isn't some way we could get rid of Angelus without harming Angel," Lorne mused. "I think this whole situation is creating a lot of wear and tear on everyone's nerves."

"More than just the nerves for some of us," Spike pointed out, and it was obvious that he wasn't referring to himself. "Damn, we need to find some way to get his soul back. He may be a big, dumb git with it, but at least you know where you stand. With Angelus, you never know which way to jump, the bastard's so bleeding unpredictable."

&&&&&&&

"Well this is curious," Wesley muttered to himself. No one had thought to put a guard or at least a companion with him in Rose's absence. In truth, he didn't feel much need for one. And so far, the only times Angelus had come to his office, it had been to see Rose. He looked over the text he was studying again. And again. It seemed about right, but it must have cost Havoc & Associates a great deal of money. Of course, that was what was behind everything. Angel, through his change in policy, had already cost them a lot of money. They were obviously willing to spend more to try to recoup their losses. But a mage of the caliber required for the spell that was probably used weren't easily found, and their services weren't cheap. At least now, he was pretty sure of what spell had been used. Now, he had to start digging and find a way to reverse it. He sighed. He wished that Rose were here. Not only was she an excellent researcher, but she was good company, and his own was starting to wear on his nerves almost as much as, or perhaps because of, Angelus' reign of terror. Wesley tucked the books into his briefcase. Time to be getting along home, and it was Friday, so if he wanted to continue on pursuing this particular line of inquiry, he'd better take his work home with him. Just this once.

&&&&&&&

Rose woke around dinner time, and was feeling put out because Spike still adamantly refused to let her out of bed for any reason. Any reason whatsoever. That included trips to the bathroom, which he insisted on carrying her to and from. The doctor was due to check up on her tomorrow, and she devoutly hoped that he'd give her a clean bill of health. Or at least say that she could get up out of bed. She'd be willing to bet that he'd never expected his orders for his patient to be carried out to the letter quite so rigorously.

"Did you have a nice chat with the kids, luv?" Spike entered the room carrying a tray with her dinner on it. Judging by the aromas wafting from that particular source, he had burned it, and burned it pretty badly.

"It was very nice," she replied, a little less enthusiastically than he might have thought. Poor pet, she really did miss the little beggars. Well, come to that, so did he.

"Tell me all about it," he urged, sitting down beside her and placing the tray on her lap.

Rose reflected that she wouldn't really have any grounds for being put off by the meal. It was such a uniform black, that she had no idea what it had originally been comprised of. But Spike did try, and she loved him for it, even while she was finding it utterly exasperating.

"Do you know someone named Andrew?" she asked. She couldn't quite suppress a giggle, despite how down she was feeling. "Even in just a printed message, Alaric sounds so like you, darling. He called this Andrew person a brainless prat."

Spike laughed, and that contained a hint of sadness too. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit that he missed the twins as much as their mum did. "Sounds about right," he conceded. "Was that what they wanted to know about him?"

"Evidently he told them that you and he were very close," Rose informed him, picking up her fork and pushing at the burnt offering in front of her. What on earth had he done to it? "They said that they didn't believe it, but they couldn't quite tell for sure. They seem to have some trouble reading him. It seems for every situation, he's got several different stories floating around in his head."

"That's Andrew," Spike replied. "Never was much of a one for dealing with reality."

"Then you weren't friends?" Rose guessed.

"I'm not sure what you'd call it," Spike admitted. "But I don't think friends quite covers it. What else did the kids have to say?"

"They hate English food," Rose informed him. "They hate being so far away from us. But they are learning to like math. Something that someone named Willow taught them."

"Red always was the scholarly type," Spike reflected. "Would have made a first rate Watcher if it weren't for the fact that she's a kick-ass witch."

"They said that she knows you too," Rose commented. "I guess that must be true from what you just said. I didn't really know, you never talk about your time in Sunnydale that much. They said they can't wait to come home and tell me some of the stories she's been telling them. I'm pretty sure that one thing they mentioned must have been a misunderstanding. It was something to do with you and laundry."

"Laundry?" echoed Spike. His mind whirled back to days long past in Sunnydale and hit upon a memory that he'd very deliberately repressed. "Oh hell and damnation. Why'd she have to tell them that?"