Things Change
Chapter Eleven

"Plans, plans, plans," Glory pouted. "What about me? You never think about me! Minions!"

Edward opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it closed when two minions scuttled in. Glory sat down on the elaborate stool before her vanity table and tossed her hair. The minions hesitated, awaiting their order.

"Brush her hair, you fools!" Edward shouted and they jumped, scrambling for the brush.

Glory rolled her eyes. She never thought she'd long for the bumpy minions she had when she first arrived in Sunnydale, but she did now. Edward obviously hadn't gone out of his way to secure the best servants for her. The minions she had now were disgustingly scabby and hadn't yet got the hang of adoring her.

"Be gone!" she sighed and waved her hand towards the door.

The taller of the silent minions walked away, leaving the brush tangled in her hair. The smaller minion followed the elder and disappeared into the far room that Glory would never think of entering.

Edward smiled and came forward, prying the brush from her hair and gently combing it.

"You know the plans are necessary, my Queen," he murmured.

"But when do I get to have some fun?"

"Fun?" Edward frowned. Was the planning not fun enough? He was having fun, planning torture, death and mayhem was splendid.

"I want the vampire," she stated. "I want to break him. I want to make him scream for mercy. I want him to bow before me. I want him to die."

"And he shall, darling one, " Edward assured her, setting the brush down and rubbing her shoulders gently. "He will. Soon, very soon."

"Now," she ordered. "Bring him to me now!"

Edward was torn between sticking to the plan and doing as his Goddess ordered. In the end, his loyalty to his Queen won out and he nodded.

"Yes, Glory, you shall have Spike."

"Good boy," Glory smiled at him in the mirror, her hand reached up and stroked his hair. "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

Her fingers tightened their grip painfully and the Jackal moaned as he buried his face in her neck.

"Plans, plans, plans," Todd moaned. "It's just a wedding, not a war."

"Just a wedding?" Chrissy asked. "God! You're so…. male."

"Uh, yeah?" Todd answered and shook his head as he slipped out of the living room and into the kitchen.

"They still working out the flowers?" Spike asked.

"Yeah. It's just a wedding, what's the big deal?"

"A wedding, Todd," Spike began sagely. "Is a dream for every girl -"

"Not Aunt Willow," Todd pointed out. "Since she's gay."

"But I'll betcha she wanted the white meringue wedding. It's a woman thing; I gave up figuring it out years ago. Woman are a mystery, my boy, an absolute bloody mystery."

"I know what you mean," Todd sighed. "Can I tell you something?"

"Course you can," Spike replied.

"And you won't tell Mom or Chrissy?"

"No."

"Or Aunt Dawn or Aunt Willow?"

"Cross my heart and hope to dust. Now spit it out!"

"Well, I was gonna ask Uncle Xander's advice, but I figured since you're like, a hundred and something, you'd have a lot of experience with women, right?"

"Tons," Spike answered.

"Ok. So, there's this girl. Her name's Alison and she's really nice and pretty and smart -"

"And you fancy the pants off her?"

Todd blushed and bowed his head. Spike cursed himself for being so insensitive. He knew what it was like to have people make fun of your feelings and he'd noticed that his son was a healthy mixture of both his William side and his Spike side.

"You like her?" Spike asked, a little more tactfully.

"Yeah."

"So what's the problem. You're a good-looking lad. A decent, up standing member of society. What more could she ask for?"

"Popularity?"

"Eh?"

"She's the most popular girl in school. Chris and I kinda aren't. We've got friends, but we've been 'freaks' since we were fifteen."

So they were treading the Buffy path, were they? As far as Spike knew, Buffy hadn't exactly been little miss popularity when she was in high school. Willow and Xander hadn't been either. Spike cast his mind around desperately for something to reassure his son with. He knew if he could only get this right, then his son might come to him for advice again.

"Well, uh," Spike began, then his memory struck gold. "Harris and the Cheerleader!"

"Huh?"

"Xander got it on with that Cordelia bird in high school. He was King Twat and she was Miss Thang. They got together."

"Yeah, then he kissed Aunt Willow and Cordy fell through the floorboards, got impaled and nearly died."

"Oh, you've heard the story?"

"Cordy told me and Chris couple of years ago when we went to LA. I don't really think that's the best example of the greatest love story ever told. It's more like a shining example of what not to do."

"That's not the point. You can't really expect Xander Harris to have half a brain and not kiss someone other than his girlfriend, can you? The point is that a complete idiot like Xander Harris actually got the girl to begin with."

"Ok, I get that. But where's the advice?"

"The advice is that you be yourself and don't chain her up and threaten her with death by insane vamp. You're nowhere near as goofy as the whelp so give it time, I'll wager that Alison'll be all over you in no time."

"Seriously?" Todd asked. "Cool. Thanks, Dad."

He got up and went back into the living room, deftly avoiding the girls that were spread over the floor deciding on the floral arrangements.

"Was that any good?" Spike asked. "You heard, right?"

Josh removed the thick gloves he had donned to clip the rose bush in the garden. He ran his fingers through his thick brown hair, as he closed the door that led into the garden, and lifted his hand in a brief wave at Dawn.

"You did good," he said.

"You're not just saying that?"

"No. Hell, I wish you'd been there to give me some advice. You know it took me three weeks of taking Dawn to the cinema and dinner before I actually asked her on an official date?"

"You got her in the end," Spike shrugged. "And you know I'll pluck your eyes out if you so much as look at another woman."

Josh laughed good-naturedly and shook his head.

"Yeah, I know."

Spike sighed. He knew the chip had been deactivated and he still wasn't scared? What did it take?

Buffy smiled at herself in the mirror as she smoothed her nightdress.

She'd had it years. Fifteen years, in fact. The thought terrified her. She had bought it as a treat for herself, something to remind her she wasn't just a mom and a half-demon Slayer, but she was a woman too.

She'd pulled it on once when she got it home and found herself blushing at the absurdity of it. Why would anyone wear something this sexy when they had no one to be sexy for? Instead, she slipped into her comfy teddy bear pyjamas, hiding the black satin night-dress at the bottom of her nightwear drawer. She'd been ashamed to see that everything in her drawer was mom-sy. She was barely twenty-two!

She had kept the nightdress in the event of a new romance. There hadn't been one. Oh, there had been dates, various charming men who didn't mind that she was a single mother, who ran a magic shop and had to run off at all times of night.

None of them had been worthy of The Nightdress.

She ran her hand nervously over her shoulder length hair and allowed the wide smile of anticipation to spread over her face.

Spike was worthy.

She awoke early the next morning. She usually jumped out of bed as soon as she awoke, but not today. For one thing, she could hear that Anya was up. The squeaking of the left-hand faucet in the bathroom told her so. For another, the children weren't home, they'd gone to stay at friends, so there was no immediate urge to get up and make sure they ate a decent breakfast.

And she was tired. Though she wasn't surprised. She'd been awake half the night with Spike. She could do with another hour or two of sleep.

The biggest reason was Spike.

Spike's chest that was the most comfortable pillow.

Spike's arms that, despite their cool temperature, kept her warm throughout the night.

Spike's lips that peppered kisses over her hair and shoulders.

And Spike's sleepy mumble of "I love you" when she squirmed against him.

She waited for it. For the arms to ease around her, for the gentle yawn, for the kisses, for the words.

None came.

She smiled gently and strained her ears for sounds other than Anya.

Surely, he'd be doing something hopelessly romantic like making her breakfast in bed? She heard Anya exit the bathroom and tiptoe downstairs. She waited for the sound of a pan being dropped, for Spike's cries of frustration when the toast burnt. Her dreams were never perfect. He would always do something endearingly wrong. He would offer her burnt toast, telling her he ran out of bread. He'd bring her lukewarm coffee because he made it too early. That was how it always was.

She still couldn't hear him and worry began to bloom in her gut, but the fatigue she felt smothered it slightly. She rolled over and stretched slowly in an effort to wake herself up more. She wouldn't do anything, she told herself as she yawned. It would be just her luck to charge downstairs and find that he'd been pouring the coffee or cereal.

She opened her eyes slowly and froze with her back slightly arched in mid stretch and her arms pressed into the pillows.

She had closed the window last night.

It was open now.

The sun streaming through the open window, cutting across her bed told her that he hadn't opened it.

And suddenly the fatigue she felt didn't seem entirely natural.

Glory clapped her hands delightedly as Edward pushed the slightly smoking vampire at her feet.

His only clothing was the black pants Edward had retrieved from the floor of the Slayer's bedroom and ordered the minion to clothe him in. The vampire's arms were twisted painfully behind his back, the skin raw where the rough ropes rubbed. A large bruise ruined the milky perfection of his smooth skin over his ribs. Edward smirked at Glory and lifted his foot, placing on the vampire's spine to pin him in place, looking like a hunter standing over a lion.

The operation really had been too simple. Apart from the fact the Slayer and her lover didn't fall asleep until barely fifteen minutes before dawn, it had gone superbly.

Edward had slipped inside and placed the chlorophyll soaked cloth over the Slayer's mouth when she stirred slightly. The vampire had awakened and punched him in the jaw, but with a simple spell, Edward knocked him out and dragged him out through the window, pausing only to grab the pants. He had tossed him into the car and raced across town to present this latest offering to his Goddess.

Bending forward, Edward twisted slim fingers into the vampire's bleached blonde hair and yanked his head up.

With a self-satisfied click of his fingers, Ed woke Spike up. The memory of just who Edward Thorpe really was reappeared in Spike's mind and, with a roar and game face twisted in fury, he struggled to sit up and throw the Jackal from his back.

"Ah, ah, ah. Calm down, Spike," Edward said mockingly, bringing his face to Spike's. "You remember me, do you?"

"Yeah, you bastard," Spike hissed. "Let me go. Fight me like the man you aren't."

"And the man you aren't," Edward answered. "You think I'm scary, Spike? Well, you seem to have a long memory, let's see is you remember my beautiful Goddess."

He twisted Spike's head around to face Glory who stood with one hand on her hip, the other twisting a lock of hair seductively, her lips twisted in a victorious smirk.

"The impure vampire," she bent down and grabbed his chin. She forced him to look at her. The game face slid away and his eyes widened as he realised that this was no mirage. "We meet again. Wonder if you've fancied up over the last seventeen or so years, precious."

Spike opened his mouth to talk, but her still substantial strength threw him across the room when she slapped him across the face.

"We're gonna find out," she told him sweetly. "Edward?"

Edward nodded and whipped the red cloth from the tray of torture devices with a magician's flourish.

"Have a nice time," Edward said, as he lifted Spike up onto the familiar hook in the middle of the room. "I do hope Buffy's all right."

"No!" Spike shouted, twisting in the ropes. "Stay away from them! You bastard!"

"Sssh, now," Glory whispered as Edward left the room laughing. "Hush."

He didn't hush.

Instead, he screamed in agony as her hand entered his stomach.