The Dream
by spikeNdru
Chapter 2
Flying over the majestic sweep of the American continent, Giles' thoughts were in a jumble, and he failed to notice even the beauty of the Rockies, which was usually his favorite part of the NY-LA flight.
He had already secured his tickets and was in the process of packing when Althenea had rung him up. A smile ghosted over his lips as he replayed their conversation in his mind.
She had threatened to start charging him "vision fees" if these yearly "There's a dark power rising in California" warnings were going to continue indefinitely, and had gently teased him about his assurances that the Hellmouth had been closed, so her second yearly vision would be the last. Apparently not, as she had now had a third!
This time, at least, he could enter the fray pure in heart. During the last two apocalypses he had been plagued by guilt that he was partially at fault-that he had failed both Willow and Buffy and thus helped to bring about the circumstances that lead to near disaster. Now, he felt strong and sure and able to help without reservations. He had rediscovered that calm, peaceful inner core of strength that allowed him to help just because it was the right thing to do, rather than to try and fix a mistake he had made. He hadn't realized how much he had missed that feeling until he had gotten it back. He was profoundly grateful.
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Although he was feeling rather strung out from too much coffee and too little sleep over the last few days, and bearing a strong resemblance to the British version of the unshaven, stubbly, rumpled Marlboro Man, Wesley found himself grinning like a fool during the entire trip to the airport to pick up Giles. . . in the Lamborghini!
"BMW, the Ultimate Driving Machine? Ha! Not bloody likely!" Clearly the BMW admen had never driven a Lamborghini.
The last time he had actually seen Giles was at the Sunnydale graduation. Wes laughed out loud. Wait till Giles got a peek at Marlboro!Wes pulling up to the terminal in a Lamborghini.
"Bloody marvelous! You've come a long way, baby. Yes, indeed."
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Giles heaved a sigh of relief upon arrival at Wes' perfectly normal flat. He had been dreading finding something akin to Hugh Heffner's Playboy Mansion after the prat had driven up in that ridiculous bright yellow penis-on-wheels of a car! How ostentatious! Couldn't even compare to his own sporty red BMW convertible, which unfortunately was currently at the bottom of a giant crater, or he'd show Wesley what "ultimate driving machine" really meant.
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Giles showered while Wes put together a simple meal of chicken cutlets, Stove Top stuffing and peas. Giles was tired from his long trip, but couldn't help noticing that poor Wes looked completely knackered. Wes put the dinner plates on the kitchen table and added two pint cans of Guinness before wearily sinking into his chair.
"I'm sorry. The peas are a bit mushy," he apologized.
Giles smiled happily. "I like mushy peas. Nearly everyone in California serves the veg half raw."
After dinner, Giles offered to do the washing up while Wes had a turn at the shower. They then retired to the sitting room to go over their information.
"I think a verbal rundown of our findings would best serve for tonight. We're neither at our best and a good night's sleep would help put things in perspective," Giles suggested. Wes concurred.
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Wes and Giles had been working for several hours when Wes got up to make a pot of tea. Wes filled the kettle and put it on to boil. He had located a packet of biscuits and was in the process of opening them, when Giles called from the sitting room.
"Wes, do you know anything about the Nyazian prophecies?"
"Yes. No. . . I don't know." Wes came to the doorway, biscuits in hand, with a very disconcerted look on his face. "When you asked about the Nyazian prophecies my first response was, yes, I have studied them, I know about them. Before I could form the words, it was as if a wall went up in my mind-a wall keeping me from accessing that information."
Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them automatically. He looked at Wes with a focused interest.
"Does the wall feel like 'it's on the tip of my tongue, but for now I can't access it' or does it feel. . .mystical?"
Concentrating on the feel of the mental blockage, Wes jumped, dropping the cookies, as the kettle began to whistle loudly. Wes hurriedly made the tea, and brought the pot and the unopened biscuits to the table, forgetting to put them on a plate.
"It feels decidedly mystical. No matter what direction I try to come at the information from, it's like a roadblock, sending my thoughts in another direction."
"Hmmm," Giles replied. "A spell of some kind, do you think?"
"Possibly," Wes agreed. "I suggest we collate the information we have and then talk to Angel. I haven't wanted to make anything known at Wolfram and Hart up until now, because I do have some concerns about the whole operation. W&H had been a strong force for evil for centuries before we took it over, and I am beginning to have my doubts about how effective the changes we've made really are. Do you remember Rutherford Sirk, Giles?"
"Of course. Renegade Watcher who stole some priceless books and mystical artifacts from the Council before disappearing. He's rather infamous in our circles."
"Yes, well, when he 'disappeared' from the Council, he apparently came to work for W&H. He had been head of the Research Department until Angel Investigations took over the LA branch. I was nominally his supervisor, but I doubt if he accepted that. Several months ago, he disappeared from here. I'm wondering if perhaps he performed some kind of forgetting spell to keep me from remembering what he had been working on?"
"That's a strong possibility," Giles agreed. "Let's get what we do have in a coherent order to discuss with Angel, and also make note of what we may have that possibly is mystically blocked."
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Giles studied Angel's face as Wes presented their information. His expression morphed from polite distraction to interest to incredulity to currently looking like he had been gobsmacked by a fish. A rather large sturgeon, actually.
Angel put both hands flat on his desk and stood, leaning forward to stare at the Watchers.
"Let me get this straight. Buffy's sister Dawn is really a mystical Key that opens dimensions. She's been living with her father in LA. She's. . .dating. . .a boy named Connor who is having mystical dreams. She called Giles about the dreams. He came up with several possible relevant prophecies, which you've pretty much narrowed down. You're stumped by the one part about the child of two vampires being the only one to stop the time traveler and you think it connects to the Nyazian prophecies which Wes should remember but doesn't, and Darla appeared to this Connor in a vision and told him he was the only one who could stop Sahjhan?"
"Yes, well, that pretty much sums it up," Wes agreed.
Angel ran his hands through his hair and went to stand by the necro-tempered window, looking down at LA, but seeing nothing. Without turning, he said, "Let me think about all this. Go get some lunch and then we'll talk."
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Angel was still blindly staring out the window when Spike burst into his office, more agitated than usual.
"Do you know where Dawn is?" he demanded.
"Dawn?" Angel half turned to look at him.
"Yes 'Dawn', you git! The Slayer's little sis? You remember Dawn? Or were you so focused on Buffy you didn't even notice she had a mum and a sister?"
"I'm aware of who Dawn is. Why is she any concern of yours?"
"The Li'l Bit and I were friends. I took care of her, protected her after Buffy. . . We were close, alright? She's in danger. I had a dream that she's in danger and I bloody well won't let anything happen to her again, so if you know anything about where she is or what danger she's in you bloody well tell me right now!'
"Calm down, spike. Stop pacing and sit down and I'll tell you."
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Returning from lunch, Giles stopped dead, staring at the blonde behind the reception desk.
"Harmony?"
"Hey, Mr. Giles. Long time, no see, huh?"
"What on earth are you doing here?"
"She's Angel's secretary," Wesley explained.
"Assistant," Harmony corrected. "Why does everybody keep getting that wrong?" She glared at Wesley. "I suppose you probably still call flight attendants 'stewardesses', don't you?"
"Well, that's neither here nor there," Wes replied. "We have a meeting with Angel and I don't know how long we'll be. Will you please hold all calls and see that there are no interruptions until we notify you differently?"
"Sure," Harmony agreed. "Oh, wait!" She came around the desk and handed a mug of blood to Giles. "Would you give this to the Boss for me?"
Wes opened the ornate double doors and gestured for Giles to go first.
CRASH!
Three pairs of eyes stared at the smashed mug and its gourmet blend of pig-and-otter blood seeping all over the parquet floor. Giles didn't notice either the loud crash or the spilled blood. He stared in shock at the peroxide blonde wrapped in black leather.
"Oh, ballocks!" Spike glared at Angel. "You didn't tell me Rupert was here!"
"I had other things on my mind, Spike," Angel practically spat out.
"Yeah, well, the cat's out of the bag now, innit?"
"Spike! You're alive?" Giles was clearly in a state of shock.
"Well, 'undead and kicking' anyway," Spike replied. "Is Buffy. . . alright?"
"What? Oh, yes, she's fine. She's. . . How did you? We thought you'd died. . ."
"Well, I did die, din't I? Burned to a crisp in Sunnyhell. Somehow got sucked into the amulet which somehow got sent to Peaches and before you can say 'Bob's your uncle' I'm Caspering around bloody Wolfram and Hart. Another mysterious package recorporealizes me and now I help the helpless and Dawn's in danger. Angel said Wes, and you, apparently, have information that'll help me protect her, so let's have it."
Still feeling dazed, Giles sat in one of the chairs around the conference table and Wes placed a glass of brandy in his trembling hand.
"I'm profoundly sorry, Giles. With all that is going on, I had quite forgotten Spike and that you didn't know he was back."
Giles drank down the brandy and felt marginally better. "Yes, well then, I suppose we had better get on with it, hadn't we? I'd like to speak with you later, Spike, about your experiences, if you don't mind?"
Spike nodded, and relieving Wesley of the bottle, took a long drink himself.
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The Senior Partners were very pleased. Those that had mouths actually smiled. Baal called the meeting to order.
"I trust things are on schedule for our little apocalypse?" he queried.
"Yessss," responded Lilith. "The mystical convergenssss issss near. The playerssss are in possssition."
The Morningstar provided the details. "Charles Gunn is completely under our control. He has accepted Teotixouxin, the Jaguar God, into his being. Even now, he is searching for the urn. He will release Sahjhan when the time is right."
Baal listened to the clicks and chitters of one of the insectoid Partners.
"Yes," Baal agreed. "We must make sure Sahjhan does not stop time too precipitously. The timing of this phase is especially delicate. We must bleed The Key allowing the portals to open right before Sahjhan does his part. The Key will then be frozen in time as will everyone else in this dimension. With all the portals open, the time flux will bleed into all other dimensions, allowing us to effect the necessary changes at our leisure."
Buoyed by the nearness of their inevitable success, the Senior Partners had gotten careless. Unable to even consider the thought that anyone could or would fail to desire the culmination of eons of planning leading up to the moment of their own very special apocalypse, no one noticed the faint shimmer of the being who had been privy to their secret war council winking out of existence.
Manifesting back in her own quarters, Lilah Morgan smiled.
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Seated at the head of the conference table, facing Wesley, Giles and Spike, Angel was afraid to begin. He knew he was stalling, when he found himself imagining a warm pair of hands touching his shoulders. He looked around, but of course no one was there. His vampire senses would have registered a person behind him long before they got close enough to touch him. He felt a soft, warm breath on his cheek and seemed to hear Cordelia's voice in his ear.
It's time. You have to tell them. I'll be with you. I'll always be with you.
Angel squared his shoulders and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He smiled brightly.
"Does anyone want coffee? Tea? A snack? Gum?"
"Angel," Wesley said reprovingly. "Putting it off isn't going to make it any easier. If there's something unpleasant that we should know, perhaps you should just tell us."
The ghastly smile faded from Angel's face. He glanced briefly at Wes and then looked down at the table, his eyes unfocused.
"Wes thought he should know about the Nyazian prophecies. At one time he did. The original prophecy said "The child of the vampire with a soul will grow to manhood and kill Sahjhan." Sahjhan is a time manipulator. He went back in time and changed the original prophecy to "The Father will kill the Son." Using that erroneous information, Wes set in motion a series of events that ended in a way I couldn't live with. I made a deal with Wolfram and Hart and part of the deal was that Wes, Fred, Gunn and Lorne all got their memories modified. When Wes made his decision, he thought he was acting for the greater good. It didn't turn out that way, but, now, I'm willing to accept that his intentions were good. Mine weren't. I didn't give a shit about the greater good. I did what I did to save two people I cared about more than anything in the world. And in return, I agreed to run W&H."
Wes was stunned. He raised anguished eyes to Angel. "If Giles and I hadn't come to you with this information, would you ever have told me that you violated my mind? That, even now, I have no idea which of my memories are valid and which are manufactured?"
Angel met Wes' eyes. "Probably not," he baldly admitted.
"I see," Wes murmured. "And now? Are you going to supply the full story with all the missing pieces, or is this a 'need to know' situation, in which you will decide to tell me what you think I need to know to deal with the current crisis and continue to withhold the rest?"
Angel and Wesley silently locked eyes.
"Some things are better not to know," Angel stated.
"Quite true," Wes agreed. "But you don't get to make that decision for others. You're not a god, Angel, and we're not your pawns to be used at will. We're sentient beings. We have our own will."
"OK, Wes," Angel snapped. "I'll tell you everything. But after this is over. After we stop this thing. Cause I really don't think I could continue to work with you on this if we have to dredge it all up now! There's too much pain and betrayal involved and I don't have time to deal with that now. We'll talk-later."
Wes nodded, accepting the caveat. "And Fred, Lorne and Gunn?"
"No. We don't tell them anything right now. We need Fred focused, not conflicted, while we deal with this. We still don't really know what W&H did to Gunn when they messed with his head and I don't want him in on this. What we discuss here stays with the four of us. We're in the belly of the beast and I don't know who can be trusted, so it's just us. Are we clear?"
Spike touched the flat of his hand to his brow in salute to Angel. "Cheers! Our very own Scrappy Gang."
Giles cleared his throat. "The Ashkanazian prophecy related to 'the child of two vampires' and the Nyazian mentions 'the child of the vampire with a soul'. Are both prophecies referring to one entity or are they about separate beings?"
"Not 'beings' or 'entities'. They refer to a child. A human child. Except. . . that human child has. . . abilities that most humans don't have. He has a sense of smell and hearing as good as any vampire's. He has. . . Slayer strength. Also, enhanced agility, moves and fighting skills. Through certain circumstances, he was raised in Quor'Toth. He was a month old when he was kidnapped and he returned three weeks later-16 years old. He's my son."
Giles was frantically polishing his glasses. Wesley was wishing he hadn't decided to switch to contacts. Spike's mouth was hanging open. Spike recovered first.
"You have a son? A human son? And who's the lucky lady that provided you with progeny, Peaches? Anyone I know?"
Angel glared at Spike with intense dislike. "Darla."
"Darla? You and Darla have a son? Isn't that rather incestuous?" A further thought occurred to Spike. "Does Buffy know?"
Angel growled. "Buffy has nothing to do with any of this. Leave her out of it. Yes, Darla and I have a son. And before you ask, Spike, I don't have any idea how or why it happened."
"And where is Darla, now?" Giles wondered.
"She's dead. She was in labor for a long time. Vampire bodies weren't exactly designed to give birth. The child was dying. Darla staked herself to give Connor life."
"Connor?" Giles repeated. "Dawn's Connor?"
"Yes. I don't want to get into it right now, but the end result was that I made a deal with W&H. I'd take over their LA branch and they'd give Connor a new life. A happy one. They wiped Wes' and the others' memories of any knowledge of Connor, and they put him into a good family-a loving family, and they made it so everyone would remember him as always being there. He doesn't know anything about any of this. He thinks he's a normal kid who grew up in a normal family and has a normal life.
And this is the boy Dawn was attracted to? How appropriate, thought Giles. Someone has a very karmic sense of humor!
"Oh," Angel added. "They also gave me the amulet that closed the Hellmouth as a sort of gift with purchase."
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Dawn hung up the phone with a sigh that was equal parts relief and trepidation. Relief that Giles was here, in LA, he had some answers and he wanted her to come and stay with him while they worked things out. She needed to be with the crew where she could be protected. The trepidation came into play because she didn't have the foggiest idea how she was going to convince Dad and Linda to let her go.
Dawn sighed again. One of the drawbacks of a nice, normal life was that no one understood the occasional need for Scoobyage. What could she say? Dad, Linda, I need to take some time off school to go stay with two middle-aged British men who are working with a vampire with a soul to protect me and my boyfriend from the latest apocalypse. Yep, I'll be hanging around with four or five men and there are no women involved at all. Why weren't there any women? Where was Cordy? Dad would probably let her stay with Cordy. Things were sort of backwards here. The Scooby situation was nearly all female, except for Xander, and Mom would let her go off and stay with Xander anytime. Here, the Fang Gang seemed to be exclusively male, except for Fred, and she just knew I'm staying with four men and a woman named "Fred" wasn't going to cut it either.
She had lived with Giles in England for three and a half months before Hank decided he wanted her, but since she'd been here, Dad had made several comments about the "inappropriateness" of her previous living situation.
She supposed she could lie about where she was going, but for some reason, that made her uncomfortable. Sheesh! When did I get to be such a goody-good? Linda had been great-kind and caring and made her feel like she belonged. She just couldn't betray Linda's trust by lying to her. Plus, Hey! She who doesn't learn from history is bound to repeat it. A whole lot of problems over the last few years were due to people lying! Willow lying to Giles and Tara about magic, Xander lying to Anya about being ready to get married, Buffy lying to everyone, including herself, about Spike. . . Yep. Lying generally led to badness. But what the frick was she gonna tell Dad and Linda?
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Dawn felt ridiculously proud of herself. Things had worked out and she hadn't had to lie at all! Hank had come home from work early to pack for an emergency business trip. He'd be gone for a week, so she hadn't needed to tell him anything at all.
After he was gone, she sat down with Linda and briefly explained the situation, mentioning that she could have lied but didn't want to, cause once you lie to someone they can't trust you, and she wanted Linda to trust her. Linda had immediately whisked Dawn off to go see her abuela who was a bruja-a sort of wisewoman/witch. Dawn got the impression she was kinda like Tara. Grandma had green-lighted the enterprise, and here she was, waiting for Giles and Wes to come and get her with full parental approval. Nah na na nah na, Buffy Anne Summers. I'm more mature than you are! Hah!
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Dawn tucked her legs under her on the couch in Wes' apartment (which for some strange reason, Giles referred to as "the davenport".) She giggled again at the thought. Whenever he left California for any length of time, he seemed to lose his grasp on the English language! Wait till I check in with Linda tonight. Everything's fine, Linda. I'm quite comfortable on the davenport in Wesley's flat. Pip, pip, cheerio!
Wes came in from the kitchen carrying a tray on which there was a pot of tea, a plate of weird-looking cookies and a large glass of milk, which she assumed was for her. That was of the good, cause she didn't really like tea anyway, but she'd have to talk to Wes about picking up some coke and popcorn if she was going to be staying here very long.
After filling her in on the generalized researchiness, Giles suddenly got all serious.
"Dawn, before we go into this in more detail, there's something you have to know. This may come as a shock to you; it certainly did to me. You're aware that Spike died in the Hellmouth?"
Dawn nodded as her eyes filled with tears. She tried to speak, and couldn't, so she just nodded again.
Giles looked at her in wonder. "You really do miss him, don't you? I've never quite understood the bond between you two."
The lump in her throat was getting bigger and she angrily dashed her hand across her eyelashes. She was not going to cry again. She wasn't!
Giles smiled and patted her shoulder.
"Well, then. I have some very good news, for you, at least. You remember the mystical amulet that Spike wore into the battle? Well, after he died, the amulet somehow trapped his essence, it was mailed to Angel, and Spike came back as a ghost."
Dawn stared at Giles in horror. "A ghost? Oh my god, he'd hate that! Not being able to touch anyone or fight or smoke or drink. . . this is so sad!" She frowned reprovingly. "I thought you said you had good news!"
Wes took up the explanation.
"Some time later, a package arrived in the mail. We don't know what was in it or who sent it, but when it was opened, it recorporealized Spike."
"Recorpor. . .you mean he's alive? Spike's alive?
"'Undead and kicking' actually, is the phrase he used," Giles explained.
"You've seen him? Take me to him! Now! Please, Giles. I have to see him. . . I have to. . . Oh, god! Spike's alive!"
Dawn had her coat on and was by the door before either Giles or Wesley could stand. She fidgeted with excitement, not quite daring to believe until she could actually see and touch him.
"Hurry, please!"
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Wesley knocked at the door of a basement apartment in a nondescript building that had seen better days, while Dawn shifted her weight from one foot to the other like a racehorse waiting for the gate to open.
Wes knocked again.
"Don't get your knickers in a twist, I'm. . ."
Spike opened the door, and was immediately knocked backwards as something that felt like a St. Bernard threw itself into his arms and frantically began touching his arms, face and shoulders.
"Dawn? Nibblet?"
"Oh, Spike, it is you! It's really you!"
Dawn was laughing and crying simultaneously as Spike enfolded her into a bear hug that came close to cracking her ribs. He eased off a bit as he felt the "oomph" of air rushing out of her lungs. Tightly grasping her upper arms, he held her away from him so he could look at her, then gathered her close again.
Wes and Giles wore identical expressions at this unseemly display of excessive emotion. Neither Spike nor Dawn noticed.
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Once again back at Wesley's apartment, the four "Scrappies" got to work, having made several stops on the return trip for provisions. The contents of Wes' kitchen had expanded with the addition of a 12-pack of coke, extra-butter movie-style microwave popcorn, cocoa puffs and shredded wheat cereals, several frozen pizzas and four pints of pig's blood. The decimated remains of a box of Krispy Kreme donuts littered the coffee table.
Dawn clung like a burr to Spike's side, frequently touching him as if to assure herself that he was really there.
Joyce had always liked Spike, also, frequently inviting him over for hot cocoa or to watch Passions. Giles decided he would never understand the overwhelming affection all three Summers had for Spike; he may as well just accept it and move on.
Since she had apparently recovered from her shock over learning Spike was alive, they may as well hit her with the other shocking news tonight. That would give her a chance to sleep on things, process the information, and they could start fresh in the morning.
"Dawn," Giles began. "We've just discovered some news about Connor that you may find somewhat disturbing."
"Disturbing? After everything else that's been going on? Hey, as long as you're not gonna tell me the monks inserted him into a pretend family, and that he's really my twin brother, which would really be like ewww, I'm good to go."
"We're fairly certain he's not your brother," Wes interjected. "As for the rest. . ."
"Bite me! He's some mystical key, too, isn't he? I knew that happy family of his was too perfect to be real!" Dawn sighed. "OK, let's have it. What's the scoop? We can still date each other, right? I mean, as long as he's not my brother or anything."
"He's Angel's son," Spike reported. "Though how the Great Poof managed that, I'll never know. And, seriously, Bit, I'd think twice about getting involved with that family. . ."
"Yeah, sure," Dawn broke in. "I can just see the Holiday plans, now. 'Connor, darling, should we spend Thanksgiving with Buffy and Spike and Christmas with your father this year, or the other way around? Cause getting everybody together for one big, happy family reunion is never gonna happen.'"
Three pairs of eyes stared at her in shock.
"What?" Dawn shrugged. "I'm just sayin'."
Spike shuddered at the thought of Dawn married.
Wesley shuddered at the thought of Angel socializing at large family get-togethers.
Giles shuddered at the thought of Buffy and Angel and Spike being in the same room together for any reason.
Spike grinned at the thought of Buffy and him as a couple, functioning as parents to Dawn.
Dawn rolled her eyes at all three of them and snagged the last donut.
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Continued in Part 3