It was late that evening before Spike had a chance to study the book on mystical marks. Taking a hint from Lorne, he scanned through looking for information on mating marks and quickly found the section on vampire mating rituals.
As he read the text, Spike thought back to the first love of his unlife. In retrospect, he mentally slapped himself in the head for thinking that she actually cared for him the same way he had loved her. Sure, she cared about him, but it didn't hold a candle to the all-consuming passion he had had for her. To her he was a pet, a favored plaything. He was comforting and familiar when their little demonic family had gone their separate ways, and she had known that he would never leave her.
Spike hadn't known about vampire claims until over fifty years after he had been turned. Fifty years that he had devoted to his dark princess, been her faithful slave. He had discovered the concept only because they had run across a vampire couple who had claimed each other.
They were so in love, everything he wanted between Dru and him. James and Elizabeth were totally devoted to each other, letting no one come between them. To the young Spike, this was the epitome of love.
He had talked to the pair for hours, finding out how the mating worked, and what changes it caused in them and their relationship. It was a rather simple ritual, all in all. It took no magic, no tricks. A mutual bite and a declaration of 'mine' was all that was required. It was a link that would last forever, connecting the two so that they would know if and when the other ever died.
Ecstatic at the idea of proving his love to his dark princess, Spike had arranged a romantic evening. What better way to become eternally mated than to dine on Frenchmen by candle light and walk along the lighted streets of the city of love?
It was perfect, for Spike, at least. Dru seemed to enjoy the romance of it all, getting a little tipsy, and horny, from the alcohol in her victim's blood. They retreated to their lair where Spike continued the romance, showering her with special gifts he had bought for her. Some part of him had refused to steal her presents, some remnant of William that nagged him now and again.
The fell into bed, frenzied for each other. In the moment of their greatest frenzy, they exchanged bites just like they always did. It wasn't until he whispered the claim of 'mine' that the evening went to Hell in a hand basket.
As soon as the word was out of his mouth, he found himself thrown from the bed, and enraged Dru glaring down at him in all her glory. Blood still dripped from the wound on her neck, giving her an otherworldly look as she hissed at him from her human visage.
"Dru?" he had asked, confused by her reaction.
"Bad, William, controlling my boy. Go away you naughty boy, you are not wanted here."
"Dru, what's wrong, love?"
She glared at him before pulling her dress back over her head and retying the laces. "My Spike loves me, I know he does. But the naughty William was trying to control him. William is not for me."
With that she had swept out of their room, leaving him standing bewildered. It had taken him three months to get her to talk to him again on any level other than the hunt. Almost a year before she allowed him to crawl back into her bed. She never explained her actions, only speaking of that night when she demanded a promise to never do the like again.
It was only now, over sixty years later, that he saw it for what it was. Dru, in her prophetic insanity knew, even then, that he was destined to love another more than he loved her. She had been keeping him safe for the one she would pass him off to.
He wondered now if she knew what would happen when he suggested that they go to the Hellmouth for her cure. If she had sensed the end of their time together. If the mere proximity of his true love was enough to drive her out of his bed and into her sire's.
It was all water under the bridge now. The mark on his chest in no way resembled a vampire's claim, a fact that he was rather grateful for.
Before he could continue his perusal of the volume, a soft knock sounded at his door. Quickly, he closed the book, stashing it in a drawer before putting on his jeans. Deciding his visitor would feel more comfortable if he also wore a shirt, he slipped one on as he called for her to come in, buttoning it even as she eased into his suite.
"Copper," he greeted Kate as she closed the door behind her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Kate shifted nervously, biting her lip before speaking. "I…I wanted to apologize for today. I lost my temper, and I shouldn't have. I love you, Spike," seeing his shocked look, she gave a soft chuckle. "As a brother. To learn that you had been lying to me… That both you and Connor had been lying… It was a shock, to say the least."
Spike sighed and ran a hand through his hair, gesturing for her to sit down.
"Pet, you have to understand, I've only been this way for about three months now. Three months to process the things that happened in 123 years as a vampire and another 26 years from my first life. Not to mention the fact that I lost over a year. I had no idea what was going on in the world, where my friends were, or more importantly, where my enemies were. It's a lot to worry about.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Call me paranoid. Only Greg, and now you, know what I was. Greg has a few more details, but not many. The details of what I went through, what I did as a vampire, are private. Very few are events that I'm proud of, but I'm not like the Great Poof. I don't brood over the things I can't change. I move on, I fight to be better."
"Next you're going to tell me you were cursed by gypsies and struggled for redemption," Kate said sarcastically, remembering her experiences with the one demon, until now, that she wouldn't kill on sight.
Spike snorted. "You've met Tall, Dark, and Forehead, then, have you? No, I'm nothing like Angel. Never was. Truth be told, for the most part I can't stand the git. At various times he's had everything I've ever wanted. He walked away from the gifts life gave him, never looking back, never caring."
"What was it that he had that you wanted?" Kate questioned. "The soul? The tormented good looks? The title of champion for the idiotic Powers?"
Spike laughed quietly. "You really do know him, don't ya? Like I said before, most of it is personal. I will tell you that he made my unlife a living hell, both before, during, and after the curse and re-curse. To say that we have a history would be a bit of an understatement, Copper. Let's leave it at that."
Kate nodded and frowned. "Would you tell me, at least, how you became…Well, not a vampire any more?"
"You're like a dog with a bone, you know that, pet?" he asked with a raised brow. "Probably what makes you such a good cop. If you must know, I helped save the world. I guess those idiotic Powers you mentioned decided that I had done a good thing. I died, for lack of better word, and woke up over a year later, breathin' and heart thumping. Don't know why, not sure I want to."
Kate nodded, signaling that she would accept the answer, for now.
"Now, Kate, I have to ask a favor of you. Don't mention this to Connor. He doesn't know what he is. Hell, I only have a suspicion about his true nature, and I don't want him running scared because he thinks he's evil. I have a feelin' that the kid's been through a lot, even if he doesn't remember it. So promise."
"I promise," Kate intoned solemnly, causing Spike to breathe a sigh of relief.
"We good now, pet?"
"Yeah, I think. I do want you to know one thing, though. Part of the reason I was so upset about the demon that was in here wasn't so much that he was a demon, it was because I had just found out he worked for Wolfram and Hart."
Spike regarded her for a moment. "You know something I don't, pet?"
Kate nodded, a serious expression on her face.
"This something we're gonna need everyone in on?" Another nod. "Can it wait until morning? I think Greg's already asleep and Connor's back at campus. Greg invited Kal over tomorrow to discuss the possibility of joining forces. Don't make that face. You know as well as I do that there's safety in numbers. Kal's a good fighter, I went a few rounds with him myself this afternoon. man's a demon with a broadsword," he quipped, actually earning a smile from the xenophobic cop.
"So, tomorrow, OK? We can all talk about it after we talk things over with Kal. Now, get out of here. I need me beauty sleep."
After Kate left, Spike returned to his research. This time he skipped the section on vampire marks, he knew damn well that that wasn't the origin of the mark. Not that he hadn't wanted to claim his love as his mate. He often dreamed about sinking his fangs deep into her neck, not to drain her, but to whisper "mine" over and over, to shout it from the roof of his crypt, and to have her whisper "mine" in return. It would have been his happiest moment, a moment that would have obliterated Angel's soul in a heartbeat.
But he had never bitten Buffy with more than blunted teeth. He never superimposed a perfect scar, a sign of a careful, loving bite, over the ragged mess made by both his grandsire and bat-faced demon of an ancestor. He had never obliterated the tiny, infinitesimal holes left by the gypsy frill lover when he held the slayer in his thrall. As much as he desired to do so, his previous experience with Dru, and the knowledge that his love would never allow it, kept his fangs retracted.
Instead, he had worshiped the scars with his mouth, trying to ease whatever fears remained. Silently told her he loved her with every gentle nip, every kiss. Slowly, reluctantly, she relaxed under the constant assault of his mouth, no longer flinching when he buried his face near her jugular. She had not shuddered in revulsion when he gently sucked the flesh during their more gentle romps, nor when he savaged it with blunted canines when they were in a frenzy. This show of trust had lulled him into thinking that she had realized her feelings for him.
Later, after Africa, he had been glad he had never tried to follow through with his instincts. While he had not taken his mentor's path of suppressing his vampire nature and instincts and therefore felt no shame for the urge to claim her as his mate, he felt remorse far deeper than shame at his actions both in that small white bathroom and before. He, in his infinite stupidity, had tried to drag a golden goddess into the shadows. Tried to bring her down to his level because he knew he could never achieve hers.
He finally found the information he desired in a small section near the end of the book. The material was sketchy at best, claiming that such marks were the stuff of legends and therefore should be disregarded. The only reason the author had included the information was because he strived to disprove the legend.
"True soul mate marks," the author had written around the time that Spike had been turned. "Are nothing more than romantic fancy. The idea that two souls are so deeply entwined that the beings are able to mark their so-called mate in a dream has born no evidence of being reality. The only two creatures who have ever claimed to sport such marks in the last century were discovered to have paid a hefty sum to a tattooist in order to make the claim.
"The legend of the mark claims that the intricate pattern of the lines would link together in some mysterious way. Perhaps when drawn on paper and superimposed, the lines will spell out the name of the tattooist. "
Spike closed the book and grabbed a pen and some paper. While he was not the artist that Angel was, he was a fair hand at drawing. He had often wished that his passion lay in that direction instead of the poetry in which he had no talent.
With careful strokes, he reconstructed the lines he had drawn just the night before, this time on pulp instead of flesh.
Kal and Connor both arrived early the next morning. Connor's hair was still mussed from sleep and he looked faintly annoyed at having to get up early on a Saturday morning. Kal was robotically cheerful, bowing his head at the three warehouse mates, causing the beads attached to click together softly. It was a sound Spike was coming to associate with the man-demon.
He idly wondered about the paradoxes that were Kal. His hair was unfashionably long and the braided lock spoke of ritual and status. Yet he wore clothes that reminded him of the outfits the Great Poof preferred when he sported a soul. He actually thought that if the Champion of Pylea were to cut his locks short that from a distance no one would be able to tell the difference between the two men.
No doubt, he mused, the clothes were the result of his princess's influence. Perhaps he was still struggling with his identity, integrating his life on Pylea and on Earth into one amalgamation that would be Kal.
Kate came down the stairs, looking a bit reluctant but not fearful. Kal did his best to make her relax, putting up a cheerful façade and bowing over her hand as if he were Prince Charming come to call.
They quickly got down to business, which consisted of Connor and Greg getting to know their guest. From his vantage point, it looked like Greg was ready to accept the man-demon into the fold and wanted Connor and Kate's opinions on the matter.
Spike could tell that Connor liked the man immediately as they began talking about different weapons. Connor explained to him about how he was building a stake launcher for his latest engineering project, a task that his professor was both intrigued by and wary of. Connor had explained to the man that he had no desire to actually launch pieces of pointed wood at anyone, but that he wanted to work with a launching system in order to further his goal of working at a weapons research lab. That was the story, at least.
Kate was a little harder to bring around, but soon the deposed king had her laughing at stories of the difficulty in assimilating human culture, including his "mates" mistake when he had first met Spike. Both Greg and Spike could soon see that she had put aside her wariness and had accepted Kal as a potential ally if not as a full-fledged friend.
They made plans to move Kal into the warehouse after discovering that he had been living in a loft above a museum's storage space. For a man who had grown up with no running water, plumbing, or electricity, the roof over his head and mattress he had found abandoned there made for a perfect nest. After plans were made and Kal picked out a suite, they ceded the floor to Kate.
She shifted nervously from side to side. She was not uncomfortable being the focus of so many men's gazes, she had learned early on to stand up to her male colleagues or be crushed. What made her uncomfortable was the knowledge that three out of the four men were demons, though only careful observation could identify the signs.
"Um… Kal, I just wanted to apologize for the scene you had to walk into yesterday. I've already talked to Spike about some of this, but he wanted to discuss it with everyone."
"First of all, pet, I probably should fill Connor and Kal in on what we were talking about last night. I'll try to keep it short and sweet while telling as much as the story as possible. The beginnin' of my story started 123 years ago, when I was turned into a vampire."
Kal and Connor looked at him strangely, but kept quiet.
"I was a right nasty bloke, too, let me tell ya. I was known as William the Bloody at one point. I was the Slayer of Slayers. Me and my sire, Drusilla, burned a swathe across Europe in the ol' days. Then, a few years ago, a band of military idiots decided to play doctor with demons – and not in a good way. They put a chip in me head, one that gave be a blindin' headache if I tried to harm humans.
"I was less than thrilled, as you can imagine. Up until that point, I was the Big Bad, then, all of the sudden, I'm the laughingstock of the demon world. I ended up asking the current slayer for help, which she and her mates gave, reluctantly, in exchange for what little information I had on the soldier boys.
"Next thing I know, they're coming to me every time they need a bit of muscle or info. Found myself helping out regularly, got to know the group. That, my friends, was my downfall.
"What's that saying? 'Familiarity breeds contempt.' In this case, with exception of the Whelp, it wasn't true. I, stupidly, fell in love with the slayer. Started helping her just to prove myself to her; to prove that I was worthy of her."
Spike shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "To make a long story short, I ended up earning my soul back, gave my life to save the world, and woke up outside of LA a year later."
Connor looked at the being that had quickly become a big brother to him. His eyes promised more in depth questioning later, an event Spike wasn't really looking forward to. He would have to explain to the charver at least part of his theory about the boy's true origins.
Kal looked basically the same the man-demon always looked: open and honest. "So, you are like Angel?" he asked.
"Not quite," he groused, annoyed with the constant comparison. A comparison he had known he would be subjected to going into the whole thing.
"I thought he was a myth," Greg stated, eyes wide.
"You've heard of him, then?"
Connor nodded. "There are chat rooms dedicated to the legend of the souled vampire. Mostly it's just rumors about sightings and things like that."
Spike chuckled. "I bet the poofter absolutely loves that." He looked them each in the eye, judging their acceptance of his abbreviated story. "Right, then. You're turn, Copper."
The blonde nodded. "It's a bit of a long story. Wolfram and Hart-"
"Are evil," Kal interjected.
"Or maybe not so long," Kate muttered. "How do you know about Wolfram and Hart?"
"My princess told me," Kal explained, his expression open. "I did not understand all of what she said, but I do know that Wolfram and Hart tried to kill both her and Angel many times. She told me that I could not hunt them down to exact my revenge."
"You know Angel?" Connor asked.
"Oh, yes. My princess works for him. He came to Pylea and defeated me in a great battle. He is truly a brave warrior."
"Let me guess," Kate said, a smirk on her face. "Your princess is Cordelia."
"Yes."
Spike groaned and chuckled at the same time. "The cheerleader's going after Peaches? That is too much! She knows his soul's only tied down with a bit of string."
"Love is blind," Kal said patiently.
Spike chuckled again. "Got that right, mate. Got that right. Copper, you were saying?"
Kate shook herself a bit and looked around the grouping. "Wolfram and Hart represent the lowest of the low. And I don't mean just humans. They serve any demon with an evil purpose. From what Angel told me about them, they have an ultimate evil plan, but I never was quite sure what it was. I do know that Angel hated them with a passion."
"And because Angel hated them they are automatically evil?" Connor questioned.
Spike sighed. "I seriously dislike the Poof, both with a soul and without. But he is a Champion for the Powers. If he said they're bad news, they probably are. And no, Kate," he said to the obviously curious detective. "I will not tell you all the little details on why the two of us don't get along."
Kate frowned but nodded, accepting the fact that Spike's private life had a right to remain private. "So what do we do about Wolfram and Hart? About the demon they sent here yesterday?"
Greg shrugged and reasserted his role as leader. "Not much we can do, I suppose. We're just going to have to trust his word that he will not tell his boss. Until we know more about this law firm or until they notice us, we'll just have to keep our eyes open."
Connor found him again after everyone else had went to sleep. Spike waved him into his room and then settled into his reading chair to wait patiently for the younger man to start.
"I'm as fast as you," he stated. "I'm as strong as you." He paced back and forth in front of the chair. "My sense of smell and eyesight is almost as good as yours, and I think with a little work they can be on par with yours."
"Actually," Spike interrupted, earning a pause in the pacing. "I think with a little work you'll be stronger and faster than any vampire."
Connor dropped into the opposite chair and stared at the floor between his feet. "Is that what I am?" he asked, unconsciously playing with his fingers.
"Seen you in the sun, Charver," he reminded him. Spike focused absently on those hands. He had seen that habit before, knew someone who played with his fingers when he was nervous.
Connor sent him a dark look. "I meant, am I like you? Did something happen to turn me human?"
Spike shook his head. "It's possible, but I don't think so. In all truth, I don't know what you are. I have my suspicions, but no proof."
"Go on."
"Do ya remember what Kate said, the night we found her in that alley?"
Connor shrugged. "You thought she was psychic. I talked to her, to try to see if she could tell me anything, but she was just out of her mind with the drugs."
"I don't think so, Connor. I think the drugs allowed her to see things she normally wouldn't have. She knew I had been a vampire but that I had a soul. She said it was effulgent."
"Effulgent?"
"Means 'glowing.' It's not a word people use anymore. Hell, it wasn't a word people used when I was human. But it was a word that means something to me. She's the real deal, kiddo."
"What she said about me doesn't make sense, though."
Spike shrugged. "I had to interpret Dru's visions for over a hundred years. It made perfect sense to me."
"So, what did she say?"
"That whoever did this, took away your memories, did it as an act of love -- an act of sacrifice. I think that whoever did this to you did it because he couldn't give you what you needed."
"What could I need more than my memories?"
"A family. Connor," he said, leaning forward until his elbows rested on his knees. "I think… I think that both of your parents were, or are, vampires."
"That's impossible," the boy scoffed. "My parents are Harold and Laura Trent. My younger sister is Emma."
"That's right, that's who your parents are, that's who you remember them to be. Even if my theory is right, they'll always be your parents. They'll always love you, always consider you their own."
Connor snorted. "No, they wouldn't."
"Listen to me, Connor!" Spike snapped. The situation brought to mind his Nibblet's reaction to finding out she wasn't real. "They love you! You love them. Nothin' else matters."
Connor looked sullen for a moment then nodded. "I do love them, even Emma. But, why? If you're right, if I'm the son of two vampires, why erase my memories? And don't give me that family line."
"I'm not sure. I think, possibly, something happened. Maybe something that you, as you were, couldn't deal with. And your father took it upon himself to protect you. Maybe he couldn't think of another way, a way that would keep you with him. Maybe he did it to protect you. All I know is what the cop said, that it was a sacrifice and a gift of love.
"Hell, Charver, for all I know, you chose to have your memories erased." Spike leaned back in the chair and rubbed a hand through his hair. "I can tell you that it took a lot of mojo. Messin' with people's minds is no easy trick. Takes a lot of power to erase even one memory, much less implant false ones. If it was your father that did this, he has a lot of influence."
Connor got up and stalked to the window and crossed his arms belligerently. "Do you know who…"
"Suspicions, Connor. Just suspicions."
"Who?"
Spike sighed once again. He seemed to do that a lot now that he had to breathe. "I'm not going to tell ya, Charver. Not until I know for sure. And I have to find the bloke first. I want to talk to him, tell him my suspicions. For all I know, he could have had his own memory tampered with too and he'll have no idea what I'm talking about."
He stood and walked to just behind the younger man. "I think of you as a little brother," he told him, resting one hand on a tense shoulder. "And I'm going to do my best to find out the truth, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you jump head first into an unknown situation. Trust me on this, OK?"
He couldn't help but give a sigh of relief at Connor's nod. I'm going to stake the poof for hurtin' him, he thought.
Willow looked up from the computer screen she was studying. "Buffy, you said you never saw what the tattoo on your back looked like?"
"Not while he was drawing it. There weren't any mirrors in my dream."
Dawn held up the sketch her older sister had drawn. "And this is what you drew on Spike."
"Yep. Or as close as I could remember it. I'm not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. Remember the paint by numbers fiasco?"
Willow grimaced at the reminder of the well-intentioned Christmas present she had once bought her friend. How the puppies had managed to end up looking like karvlar demons, they had never figured out.
"It's really quite interesting."
" Willow," Buffy mock growled. "You don't have glasses to clean, so just get to it."
Willow sighed and turned the laptop around so that Buffy could see the screen. On it was a digital picture of the small of the slayer's back, complete with black patterned lines.
"Your tattoo," she explained before capturing the inked lines and transferring them to a white background. A few clicks and she had the scanned image of Buffy's sketch on the screen. "The image you said you drew on Spike. If I flip it around like so, then superimpose it on your tattoo…"
"God," Buffy breathed. "How is that possible?"
"Some type of sensory memory, maybe," Dawn suggested.
"Then why would I flip it?" she asked.
Dawn opened her mouth to reply but a furtive kick from the red-headed witch prevented her from speaking.
"I don't think you did," Willow said, ignoring Dawn's glare. "I'll have to do a bit more research to find out what it is, but I think it's kind of like ying and yang."
"Huh?"
"A representation of good and evil, male and female, light and dark; you take your pick. I think the reason your tattoo and the pattern that we assume is on Spike are flipped is because they represent balance."
Buffy still looked slightly confused, so Dawn took up the thread. "You're a girl, he's a boy. You're a slayer, he's a demon. Balance."
"So, you think that the two symbols together mean balance. OK, I understand that. But, shouldn't they link together somehow when they're both the way we drew them?"
"Should," Willow shrugged. "But I haven't figured out how yet. It's more complicated than having matching sides, I can tell you that. And that it doesn't create any of the usual symbols of unity: the ying/yang, Star of David, or Mobius Ring." Buffy obviously had no idea what a Mobius Ring was, but nodded her head as if she did, which signaled to Willow that she could continue.
"What I want to do is send a copy of the drawing and your tattoo to Giles and Wesley. Maybe the combined resources of both the Council and Wolfram and Hart can come up with what it is."
Buffy nodded, giving her permission to do so.
The Wolfram and Hart demon was quickly pushed to the back of their minds as the nightlife in LA started heating up. The group found themselves covering a smaller area but taking out more demons. Greg gave the order that they split into teams, pairing Kate up with Connor, whom she was less likely to go ballistic on, and himself with Kal, providing each of the normal humans with a warrior partner. Spike was allowed to patrol alone, a fact that their fearless leader was not thrilled about, but the ex-vampire insisted on.
During the day, Kate patrolled the streets in her role as a police detective, using the city's resources to try and find the cause of the underworld's activity. Spike and Kal theorized that it was just a natural tide in the demon population. It was possible that several breeds were in their mating cycle and therefore more active.
While Kate and Connor dealt with their daily, public roles as cop and student, Greg and Spike set up an identity for Kal, who officially became Kal Verun. Spike often wondered why the Great Poof had never done this simple task.
His forged papers intact, they set up a series of accounts for him, explaining the use of American money and debit and credit cards. They filtered a share of their "earnings" into his accounts, much more than the man-demon would probably ever spend considering his habit of buying only the basic essentials to live.
Greg had discovered their new friend sleeping on the floor of his suite two weeks after he had moved in. Exasperated, he had dragged both Kal and Spike out to furniture stores, outfitting the man-demon with a basic set of neutral-toned living room furniture and a massive bed with a utilitarian wooden headboard. The two natives had tried to talk him into something with a little more style, but he had refused, stating that he had gotten tired of opulence during his tenure as king.
Kate, surprisingly, solved their problem of appearing to be on the up and up. In the modern world there was no way to hide the money they were keeping or spending, so they invented Warehouse Security, a fictional company, and several smaller companies that paid them retainers for their services. The detective even convinced a few legit businesses to add their names to the list, adding a level of realism to the whole scheme. The existence of Warehouse Security, with the help of the fictional and real businesses, allowed them to filter the money into their bank accounts with little or no interference.
For the most part, Spike's money, barring the nest eggs he had scattered about the city and his pin money, was placed into an account bearing the name Dawn Summers. The bank was instructed that Spike was looking for the inheritor of the account, who would be able to access the funds on her twenty-first birthday. If he succeeded in his search, she could draw funds before her birthday by showing a financial need or for college tuition. If he had not found her, or was unable to continue the search, they would hire an investigator to continue.
Spike wanted to put his love's name on the account, but knew that the slayer would refuse any such gift. Through Dawn she would have access to the money. He knew the Nibblet wouldn't let her sister starve.
The rest of Spike's earnings were anonymously donated to a local teen shelter, The East Hills Teen Center. He had seen the director coming and going, a pretty woman with blonde hair. His conscience twinged every time he saw her, recognizing an almost victim from his first stay at the Hellmouth. Some little bint who worshipped vampires. Judging from her appearance now, she had learned her lessons about vampires well.
It was three weeks after the empathic demon's visit that the shit hit the fan while on patrol. Greg had paired up with Kate that night, sending the three extra-humans out on their own, each with a separate patrol route.
Spike was heading back from his route when he smelled it: a mixture of Kate's and Greg's blood. Both are smells he had grown accustomed to over the weeks of their friendship as little scrapes were a constant problem. From the amount he smelled, this was no scrape.
A shot of terror-ridden adrenalin rushed through his system, giving him an extra burst of speed. The sight that met his eyes as he rounded a corner was one from his worst nightmares. Greg and Kate lay crumpled on the ground, blood pouring out of various wounds, while a massive demon loomed over them.
The demon was one Spike had never seen before: a large dog shape the size of a horse, with the head of a bat and the tail of a lizard. Definitely not something he wanted to go up against alone. Knowing there was no choice, knowing that he was the only chance his friends had, he growled low in his throat and launched himself at the flank of the beast, taking it by surprise.
The demon whirled on him, the short snout snapping at his side. Uncaring of the danger to his own self, Spike used the only weapon he had, a long-handled knife, to stab at the creature's underbelly, praying the whole time that it contained softer hide than the leather that covered the rest of the beast.
A howl of pain and rage was answer enough. Using his vampire agility, he scrambled up the beast's back, avoiding the constant bites and attempts to throw him off. With his own cry of rage, he plunged the knife into the creature's throat, only to be rewarded with the sound of snapping metal as the knife broke apart.
The demon finally succeeded in throwing him off, slamming his against a large dumpster in the process. He immediately launched back to his feet, clutching the knife handle as if the broken weapon would do him some good. With a snarl, he ran at the demon again, this time catching it by a large ear, which made the creature only more enraged.
Climbing to his feet for a second time, Spike wiped the bloody spittle from the corner of his mouth. He knew he was going to be feeling every hit the next day, but still he attacked once again, praying that he would get a lucky shot.
This time he made it back onto the creature's back. Narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws, he wrapped his arms around the massive head and twisted with all his enhanced might. A loud crack and the sudden slumping of the beast was his reward.
Jumping away from the falling demon, he didn't spare it a glance as he raced to his fallen friends. Both were mercifully still alive, though their pulses were weak. Spike dug Greg's cell phone out from the other man's coat and quickly dialed 911. With assurances that the paramedics were on the way, he left their side for a moment to drag the cooling demon into another alley. There was no reason to alarm the EMTs.
The rest of the night was filled with blurring lights and frantic voices. He managed to get away from the mounds of paperwork the ER required long enough to leave a message on the warehouse's machine, telling Kal and Connor about the demon and asking them to check it out before coming to the hospital.
Two pints of blood apiece, and numerous drugs and tests later, the doctors came to the waiting room to assure the pacing man that his friends would be fine. They both would need a few days in the hospital to recover, but the wounds would heal.
He was allowed to speak to Greg for a moment, both to reassure himself and the patient. The man refused to go to sleep without talking to one of his friends, much to the nurses' dismay.
"There were two demons there," his leader told him in a quiet voice. "The dog thing and another. The other told us that we were to be an example. That we'd interfered with business. Do you think… Wolfram and Hart?"
Spike nodded, his blue eyes icy. "You get some rest, mate. I'll take care of it."
Greg closed his eyes, finally taking the rest his body so desperately needed.
It had taken some fast talking to convince Kal and Connor that they should stay home when he paid a visit to the LA offices of Wolfram and Hart. Both men were as equally enraged as Spike was and he knew that both of them were an asset when it came to a fight. But, with two of their people down, he did not want to risk the remaining three getting ambushed at their enemy's lair, so to speak.
With promises that he would be back, he left the two men pacing the warehouse, obviously itching for a fight.
With a confidence born of 120 years as the Big Bad, Spike strode into the LA office of Wolfram and Hart just after the start of the business day. The receptionist didn't even raise an eyebrow at the outfit he had chosen for its statement: the outfit of the master vampire he had been. His Doc Martins shined, his red over shirt stood out like fresh blood against the black of his jeans and t-shirt, his long duster flared behind him like the tail of a giant bird of prey. Spike knew how he looked; he had spent years perfecting it.
"'Lo, pet," he said, letting his accent deepen to the drawl he had once used habitually. "'M here to see the boss."
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked brightly, not in the least fazed by his attitude.
"Don't need one," he drawled with a smirk. "See, the deal is, you let me see the boss…or I rip your throat out."
The receptionist's countenance never changed, but Spike could hear the sound of the panic button being pressed by her no doubt dainty foot. He couldn't help but smirk as a dozen security guards swarmed into the lobby, making a bee-line for him.
"Shouldn't've done that, pet," he stated before whirling to face the first comer.
For a large, evil company, their security force was for shit, he decided a few minutes later as the twelve men lay scattered at his feet. He pondered that maybe one had managed to get a shot in.
"That wasn't very nice, pet," he told the receptionist, who was looking a bit green around the gills. "'How 'bout' you get your boss down here now?"
The young woman swallowed nervously before picking up the phone and punching in a few buttons. Spike waited, the picture of patience, as she spoke quietly into the receiver before hanging up.
"Mr. Gunn will be with you in a moment, sir," she said with only a slight quaver in her voice.
He gifted her with his sexiest smirk, or at least the one the slayer had informed him was his sexiest. "Ta, pet."
Amazingly, the terrified girl blushed prettily before turning to the elevator that dinged behind her.
The man who strode out, surrounded by another half dozen guards, was not what Spike expected. He was dressed in faded jeans and a pullover shirt, his shaved scalp gleaming darkly in the lights.
"Is there a problem, Michelle?" he asked the receptionist in a deep voice.
"To right," Spike informed the man. "And it's with me."
"I see," Gunn said with a raised brow. "If you will come with me, I'm sure we can work it out."
"Now see, that's just one of the places we have a problem. I'm not about to go anywhere with you, not after what you did."
Gunn looked nonplussed for a moment. "And what do you think I did?"
"You, you bloody wanker, sicked a bloody nevary demon on me friends. I'm just here to tell ya that that was a mistake."
"I see… Mr?"
" Rochdale," Spike snarled in reply, becoming annoyed with the man in front of him.
"I assure you, Mr. Rochdale, my firm has not 'sicked' a nevary demon on anyone, much less your friends."
Spike felt his temper snap. He watched it shatter from a distance, part of him totally removed from what happened next.
"Really," he said coolly, a smirk on his face. Before Gunn or the guards had a chance to move, he had the other man pinned to the wall, a hand on his throat keeping his feet from touching the floor. "Tell me, werebeast," he growled against Gunn's struggles. "What good does it do to lie to me? Do ya know that nevary demons can only be summoned by a very powerful witch? Do ya know that you're that only ones in LA with access to someone that powerful? Now why would ya want to lie to me?"
Gunn kicked at him, the blow bouncing off one thigh. In his enraged state he barely noticed, even with the extra power the werebeast had access to. He vaguely heard the sound of feet running towards his position, but a growl and a tightening of his hand forced the guards back.
"Didn't," Gunn croaked, only to receive a little shake in reply. A little shake that had his head banging back against the wall.
A feminine scream of "Charles!" whipped Spike's head around, allowing him to focus on the coltish woman in a lab coat running towards the two combatants. Spike noticed the stun gun she held clutched in her hand and allowed his smirk free reign.
"Nuh uh, pet," he stated. "I wouldn't get too close if I were you. Never know what an enraged person might do."
The young woman skidded to a stop, the gun held defensively in front of her. "Let him go!" she yelled, her voice trembling through the twang of Texas he could hear.
"No can do, pet. See, lover-boy here set a demon on me friends. Not a nice thing to do now, is it?"
"C-charles wouldn't do that," she stated with a fierceness that could only come from a deep-seated belief. "And even if he wanted to, all decisions have to go through Angel first."
Gunn grunted and kicked some more as Spike turned his full attention to the girl. "Angelus?" he snarled. "Get 'im here. NOW!"
The Texan scrambled off to do his bidding, which oddly gave him a jolt of pleasure to know that even if he wasn't a vampire, he was still the Big Bad.
The young woman came back after a moment on the phone, her trembling hand still clutching the taser. "He-he's not in his office," she stated.
"I suggest you find 'im before lover-boy here runs out of breathin' room," he said, tightening his hand on the still struggling Gunn's throat. Long practice allowed him to apply just the right amount of pressure to keep the taller man conscious but immobile.
"But, I don't know where he is."
"I said find 'im," Spike snarled back, increasing the pressure enough to make the man's eyes roll back in his head.
The wispy woman dashed off again, her face bone white beneath her brown hair. He smirked as she tottered precariously on her sensible heels before regaining her balance and scurrying to the receptionist's desk once again.
"Who are you?" Gunn managed to rasp around the hand constricting his airway.
"Someone you shouldn't've hacked off, Were." The man growled something unintelligible in reply, causing Spike's hand to constrict once again. "Should also learn to keep your bloody mouth shut," he warned before easing the pressure slightly.
He sensed his grandsire's approach before he heard or saw him. Felt that particular feeling of blood calling to blood.
"Well, look who's here," he called out before the vampire came around a corner. "If it iddn't Peaches. Come out, Angelus, and tell the class what you've been doing."
"William," Angel greeted, stopping a safe distance from the being he could smell rage pouring from.
"Uh uh, Peaches. Just 'cause you are such a poof as to change your name when ya got a soul doesn't mean everyone is. How'd ya lose it, anyway?"
"Spike," the darker man conceded. "I didn't lose my soul."
The bleached blonde snorted in disbelief. "Nah, really? Ya just work for an evil law firm for the fun of it? Tell me, does the slayer know? Did ya leave her cryin' her eyes out over you again?"
"Spike," Angel tried once again. "Put Gunn down. We can talk about this like rational adults."
Spike finally looked at his sire's sire, noting the worried looks the vampire was casting at the grey-pallored man held against the wall. It was those looks that convinced him that Angel was telling the truth; he did still have his soul.
With a growl, he tossed Gunn aside and launched himself at the creature that had made his life so much hell, first as a fledgling and then as a ghost between him and his loves. Angel did not strike him, only defended himself against the younger's blows.
"You sent the nevary after me friends, ya bloody bastard," he growled as he pounded on the larger demon's chest. "They're in bloody hospital 'cause a ya. I'm gonna rip ya bloody apart," he snarled.
Angel finally threw the enraged demon off of him before pinning him to the floor. Even enraged, Spike was no match for Angel's greater mass, especially when said mass was sitting on his back.
"Are you ready to listen yet?" he asked, twisting a leather-clad arm behind Spike's back. "Dammit, Spike, calm the fuck down! I have no idea what you're spouting off about."
"Big man here said somethin' about a nevary demon attacking his friends," Gunn explained, rubbing his bruised throat while Fred fussed over him. "Tried to tell 'im we didn't do it, but he wasn't in a listening mood."
"May have something to do with the fact that your little company is one of the only ones with the power to call up somethin' that big."
Angel tightened his grip on Spike's arm, exerting enough pressure to make the smaller man stiffen. "And I'm telling you that we didn't," he stated calmly. "Wolfram and Hart hasn't had any underhanded dealings since we took over."
"Or, at least the LA office hasn't," Fred said, squeaking when all attention turned to her. "Well, we don't know what the other branches are up to."
Angel nodded thoughtfully. "Fred, call Wes and Lilah, tell them to meet us in the board room. Spike, I'm going to let you up now," he said, ignoring the glare Gunn sent his way. "We're going to go talk to my staff and sort this out, OK?"
Spike snarled but remained relatively passive once Angel let him go. He sprang to his feet and snarled at anyone who came too close, vampire instincts taking over, making him both defensive of his space and obedient to the elder of his line.
A jerk on his arm forced him to follow Angel into the well appointed elevator. He ripped the appendage out of his elder's arm before backing defensively into the corner of the contraption. Fred and Gunn, the only other two beings in the elevator, stood in the opposite corner, each eyeing him warily.
"We sure this is a good idea?" Gunn asked.
"He seems really upset," Fred added, unconsciously placing the men between her and the danger.
"He'll behave, won't you, Spike."
Angel strode out of the elevator and through the short hall to the meeting room, trusting his employees and visitor to follow. He looked the epitome of calmness but his ears strained for any warning from the being that had once been a childe of his blood. He allowed himself a grim smile as Spike trailed behind Gunn, defensively making sure his back wasn't to anyone he considered a threat.
Wesley and Lilah were luckily already seated in the board room, with Wes obviously trying to ignore the come-hither looks the animated corpse was sending his way. Angel settled into his customary chair and waited for the others to sit before speaking.
"How is it, Gunn," he asked calmly. "That the person you were asked to find came striding into the office on his own this morning?"
Gunn shot Spike, who was standing stiffly in a corner, a glare. "If I knew all it took to find him was to set a demon on him, I'd have done it months ago and saved the man hours my department has been expending."
Angel didn't have time to react before Spike launched himself out of the corner and at the werecat's throat. Both men tumbled to the ground, Gunn getting in a few lucky shots before Spike once again wrapped his hands around the other's throat.
Lilah watched with a raised brow as Angel groaned and stood up. Fred, startled by the attack, scrambled out of her chair and away from the combatants. It was Wesley, with his usual air of decisiveness, who grabbed up a heavy chair and bashed the enraged man in the side of the head.
"That will be enough of that," he stated calmly as Spike shook the stars from his vision. Gunn rose to his feet, hand once again exploring the damage done by the ex-vampire as Fred rushed to his side.
"I take it that you are Spike," the ex-watcher continued. "I do not know what your quarrel with Gunn is, but you will sit down and we will discuss this in a rational manner."
"Rational?" Spike smirked. "I'll be rational when that bloody wanker keeps his trap shut!"
Gunn prepared to tackle his opponent once again only to be held back by Angel's restraining hand.
"Spike, please. Calm down and lets talk about this before someone gets hurt."
The younger man sneered. "Someone's already been hurt, Peaches. And it's your fault!
"And I promise, on my soul, that we did not set a nevary demon on you or your friends," Angel stated calmly, internally praying that Spike would believe him and calm down to a rational manner. He had spent enough time with the younger demon to know that in this mood he wouldn't listen to anyone.
The statement seemed to have an effect, causing Spike to pause in his growling at Wesley. "The demon who was controlling it told Fish that they were to be an example. That we were bad for business."
"That sounds like something Wolfram and Hart would say. I assume you've been patrolling the city and you think that's what pissed someone off." Off Spike's nod he turned to Lilah. "Did Wolfram and Hart summon up a nevary?"
"The LA branch did not," she said conclusively. "As for the rest of the firm…" she gave a laconic shrug. "It's the kind of tactics we have employed before to take care of…nuisances. Minor ones, at that. Did you or your friends annoy anyone?"
Spike growled at her, wrinkling his nose at the decayed stench that came from her.
"Lilah can't lie to me," Angel said, bringing his attention from the walking corpse. "It's in her contract, believe it or not. A contract that she has to follow to the letter."
"It's rather inconvenient at times," she stated, twirling her pen. "I can't even take care of personal business without his approval."
"Considering your 'personal business' is often the undermining of our plans, is it any wonder we don't trust you?" her former lover asked. She suppressed a sigh of sexual frustration. It's not like being dead meant she had no urges.
"Do you know anything about an attack on anyone in the city?" Angel queried.
"No, I don't."
Sensing that Spike was now calm enough to talk this through, he indicated for everyone to sit. Spike settled into Lorne's vacant chair and Angel found himself wishing that the demon would return from his engagement in Las Vegas. He could sorely use his friend's advice on this tangle.
"OK, so, a nevary demon attacked your friends last night. When and where?"
"Near UCLA. I found them around one, about to be eaten."
"And you jumped to the conclusion that Wolfram and Hart were responsible," Gunn snarked, earning a scowl from Spike.
"I have it on good authority that Wolfram and Hart are evil."
"Oh, they were," Fred perked. "But then we took over. We're not evil now."
"Much to my dismay," Lilah muttered.
"My friends, my all too human friends, are in hospital because some pillock set a demon on them. I want to know who."
"We're all human here too," Fred stated firmly. "Well, except for Angel, of course. But we know the risks, what can happen if a demon is sent after you."
Spike chuckled. "You, girly, need to open your eyes. You and the librarian over there are the only two humans in this room. Or didn't you notice lover boy changin' three days a month?" He drew in a large breath through his nose and turned to the stiffened Gunn. "What are you, Were? Some kind of cat?"
He ignored Fred's babbles of him being surely wrong and turned back to his grandsire. "I want the arse who hurt my friends," he stated coldly.
Angel nodded in understanding. "Wes, is there any way of tracking down the person who did the summoning?"
"I believe so, as long as the summoned it within the city limits. The locator spell doesn't range beyond that. I'd better start researching. The trace will get weaker as time goes on."
Wesley stood and nodded to the people in the room before exiting. Spike watched the corpse watch him go, an obvious look of lust gracing her features. The Texan was still shrilling at Gunn.
"I think Spike and I have some private things to discuss," Angel stated, indicating that they should go. Gunn shot him a look that was half thankful and half alarmed, but rose and pulled the girl out with him.
Spike shot Lilah an amused look as she remained sitting. "I think that means you too, zombie."
The animated dead stiffened and glared at him. "I am not a zombie."
"You're dead; you're not a vampire. Makes ya a zombie in my book."
He smirked as she stormed away, muttering about perpetuity clauses and contracts.
"That wasn't very nice," Angel stated, frowning at the shorter man at the opposite end of the table.
"Never said I was nice, mate."
Angel studied him for a moment before speaking again. "What happened?"
Spike gave a laconic shrug. "That little trinket you left with the slayer, far as I can figure out. I thought it had killed me; instead I woke up like this. Don't ask me what I am, I don't know."
The elder nodded. " Willow contacted me when she got your e-mail. I've had Gunn searching for you ever since."
Spike sat down and propped his booted feet on the conference table before speaking again. "Those the blokes in the suits that kept houndin' me? Figured they were from the Council of Wankers, wanting to bring me in to study."
"And so you avoided them."
"Wouldn't you?" the blonde asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't suppose you'll give me your address or phone number so I can give it to Willow, now that I know you are alive. Even more than you were before."
Spike shook his head. "Nope. No offense, mate, but I don't trust your company as far as I can throw 'em. Red has my e-mail. She can contact me that way." He got up to leave, only stopping when Angel's voice cut through the air once again.
"Stay away from Buffy."
The younger demon stiffened and whirled around to face his grandsire, head cocked to one side.
"And what gives you the right to dictate that?"
"I only want what's best for her," Angel stated. "I want her to have a normal life."
Spike laughed ruefully. "So, you make the decision for her, huh? Just like you did when you walked away from her? I'm not good enough so you'll make sure I leave her alone, never mind what she may want. Ever think that she's old enough to make her own decisions in life, Angelus? Or do you think you just know what she wants, what she needs better than her?
"That's your M.O., isn't it, Peaches. Making decisions for people because you know better than them. Is that why you erased you own son? Because it was easier than dealin' with him?"
Angel looked at him in shock, mouth wide.
"Thought I wouldn't know about that, did ya? It's obvious to anyone who spent twenty years in your blasted company. He looks like you, he acts like you, he smells like you."
"You don't know anything about it," Angel snarled, his game face coming forth.
"I don't know anything about it? No, I know about a great kid who's scared shitless because he's stronger and faster than he's supposed to be. A kid who likes 80s rock and is majoring in engineering. Tell me, what was so awful about that boy, that boy that you should have cherished every second of his life, that you had to erase his existence?"
Angel sighed and leaned his head back against the back of his chair. "He wanted to die. There was so much pain, so much confusion. He just wanted it all to end."
Spike considered his elder before asking softly "What happened?"
Angel explained it all. Darla's resurrection, courtesy of Wolfram and Hart, the conception and birth of this amazing miracle, the kidnapping and the efforts he went through to try to get that most precious thing returned. Connor's return and hate of him, Holtz's poisoning of Connor's mind and heart with a single act, the three months he spent at the bottom of the ocean, and the return of his seer.
He told the story of Cordelia's possession, her use and abuse of his son, and the child that was born of their union. The realization that Jasmine was controlling them all, the quest to find her weakness, and the subsequent unmasking before millions of television viewers. How Connor, upset and betrayed, had killed his own daughter before attempting to slaughter a room full of people, a comatose Cordelia, and himself.
Spike had sat down mid-way through the story and watched his grandsire with something akin to pity. The vampire with a soul had been through hell and back for the child he had loved, finally slitting the boy's throat as an ultimate act of sacrifice. Balance. A life for a life.
"He knows," he finally told the elder demon. "He knows that he is the son of two vampires, that his memories were erased for some reason. I told him I had my suspicions about who his father was, but I refused to tell 'im until I talked to you."
"Don't tell him," Angel whispered. "Please. I don't want him to have to go through that again."
Spike nodded his acceptance. "Alright, mate. You have my word. And I'll look after the nipper. I think of him as me own brother, tell the truth. Wouldn't want him to have to deal with all that. But, you have to stay away from him. And keep your nose out of my personal business. The second Buffy tells me to get out of her life, I will. You have no say in the matter."
Angel nodded, accepting Spike's words and promise that he would obey the slayer's will. He silently watched the younger man leave the conference room, feeling oddly disconnected from the world. With a sigh, he straightened his shoulders and reached for the phone. If he was lucky, he would catch Willow before she left for her first class.