Title: If I should die before we wake
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.
Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.
Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.
Chapter 9: Imagination
--
Andrew didn't even bother letting Dawn know he was leaving.
It was a strange feeling, being the renegade. Being the one out of control.
More than strange. It was exhilarating.
In that terrifying kind of way.
The minute he'd heard the first reports about Spike and an army of vampires attacking one of their safe houses, he'd known that he had to do it. He'd known that nobody would agree with him, that there would be arguing, that people might stop him.
So he had to do it alone.
He shifted into fourth gear, just managing to keep the gears from grinding. Spike wasn't going to be happy if he ever learned that Andrew had stolen his Jag—a carefully kept secret.
But right now Andrew was a little angry.
The whole thing had been very well done. Spike and an army of vampires. It was what everybody was afraid of, right?
Except that Spike's vampires were chipped, and technically worked for the US government.
So it was a good lie, a good way to try and turn everyone against Spike. It was almost flawless.
But Andrew had found the flaw.
Nobody else would believe it, he knew. Everybody could see the evil festering in Spike. Nobody read his carefully written reports. They assumed he was just Spike's little fanboy.
Andrew shifted up again, and this time the gears did grind. He grimaced.
The thing was, he might be Spike's friend, but he wasn't his lackey. And he might like Spike, but he also happened to have a higher purpose in life, thanks to Buffy and Dawn. Protect the Slayers.
And right now, if he knew the woman he loved anywhere near as well as he thought he did, she would be getting ready to go to war with Spike. Despite the fact that she loved the bull-headed former vampire. It was what she did.
He had a different war to fight right now.
The phone in his pocket jangled. The soothing sounds of Elton John filled the car for a second, before Andrew snapped the phone open. "Riley?"
"Listen, you stupid punk kid!" snarled back an unfamiliar voice.
Well, mostly unfamiliar.
"Is Riley there?"
The voice changed slightly. Andrew knew from experience that she was putting her game face away. "Andrew? I thought this was Dawn's cell phone."
"Sorry, Harmony."
"Oh. Do you know where I can reach her? I need to yell at her a little bit."
"Harmony… yelling at the person who's demanding you surrender your leader won't help."
"Maybe I should kidnap her again."
"You kidnapped her?"
"Yeah, back when I was evil…er. Riley isn't here."
"Could you tell him to call me back?"
"I called you."
"But I've been leaving messages on his service!"
"Oh. Well, I'll tell him. But he's busy right now."
"Busy?"
"Well…we're in the middle of doing the strike team thing on Spike's well-toned and muscular butt."
"Crap!"
--
Dana wondered just why Spike was crying. It wasn't as if he'd known any of the dead Slayers, or as if he'd killed any of them. Sure, it was a bad thing, but it wasn't his fault. It was Boris' fault.
Connor shut the phone quietly. "Most of them escaped. Apparently one of them had the presence of mind to try to escape out the front, and when she figured out the house was surrounded she tripped the self-destruct. The girls scattered. Only five dead so far, according to Willow."
"So far?" asked Illyria. Her voice was surprising cold and angry.
"Some of them barely made it away. One of them was drained of blood, and the others dragged her body with them. She's not expected to make it."
Dana felt a little sad, but she wasn't crying.
Spike kept his hand over his face. "I'm gonna need a minute," he said, his voice muffled, standing up and heading for the bathrooms.
Dana watched him go, then turned to Illyria. "What's wrong with him?"
Illyria frowned. "Ultimately, the blame for this lies not with him. He understands this. But he can't help feeling responsible. He has always placed himself in a position to protect the Slayers. He considers it his duty to be 'where the bad things are happening.' His duty." She frowned down into her coffee.
"I want this Boris guy, and I want him bad!" growled Connor.
"You might want to rephrase," said Dana automatically. Spike's fondness for a well-placed innuendo was definitely wearing off on her.
"I want him dead!" clarified Connor.
"Ew," said Dana, well aware that now she was just baiting the boy. He scowled at her.
"This is a serious moment," he said. "Only Spike gets to blow the serious moments with misplaced innuendo."
"Sorry."
"You should be! I work very hard at having the serious moments when he's out of the room to avoid situations like that!" It took Dana a second to realize that Connor was kidding around with her. It was an unusual feeling. Nobody really kidded around with her except Spike. And Faith, but she was off being a girlfriend and a vampire's friend, which meant she was angry a lot.
Dana didn't know much about relationships between people, but she knew that they made you angry a lot.
It wasn't surprising that Spike was developing feelings for her, then. There was a lot of anger in him.
"Okay," said Illyria, rubbing her temples. "If Angel doesn't know yet, he will soon. Then he'll come running, out for Spike's blood."
"But there are so many holes in the whole conspiracy!" exploded Connor. "Can't they see that?"
"Emotion clouds judgment. Boris understands that," said Dana. Both of them looked at her in surprise. "I have a lot of that, emotion-clouding," she said, trying to explain. "I get that."
"So does Spike, come to think of it," said Connor, squinting at her.
Illyria nodded. "And the Slayers. Probably the government. Fortunately, we are not without our allies who don't mind Spike trying to kill Slayers, or don't believe it."
"Slayers have emotional issues?" asked Connor.
"No, they're coming, and out for blood."
"Who can find us?" asked Connor, concerned.
"Well, the tracking device implanted under Spike's skin on his arm means that the US government always knows where Spike is. Riley will certainly find us." Illyria smiled smugly. "The Slayers cannot find us, not unless Dana wishes them to. And Angel? Well, he might be able to find Connor, but he no longer has a mental connection with Spike."
Connor sighed, taking out his phone. "Should I call him."
Illyria rolled her eyes in a very Spike-like manner. "Angel is a good man, or vampire, and he means well. He and Spike have a bond of pure hatred, one that has kept them together through thick or thin. But he has his own problems right now."
Connor frowned. "What?"
"He's in the middle of his own conspiracy," she reminded him.
Connor scowled. "The one you won't talk to me about."
"Your father's decision, not mine. He never would have willingly surrendered the information to Spike, either."
"Yeah, what's up with that? I'm supposed to be the brains. How come he does all that thinking and detectiving?"
"Because he is intuitive."
Now Connor rolled his eyes. "It's because he's sneaky, you mean. He went through my dad's stuff at some point."
Illyria smiled. "And now you understand the true meaning of intuition."
Spike returned, his face stony cold, and sat next to Dana. He didn't speak for a moment, his face pensive. Stormy. She watched him uncertainly, wondering how much of what the others had said he had already thought of.
"I've pretty well got it," he said.
Connor sighed. "Not again."
"I know how to find Boris and evade the descending hordes."
Connor frowned. "Wait, what? You mean no suicidal threats? No going toe to toe with the Slayers to prove your innocence?"
"Nah. Don't have any."
Illyria leaned forward. "Your idea is beyond suicidal."
"Love, be quiet," Spike ordered. She sniffed sharply. "There's a fine line between suicide and brilliance. A fine line I happen to love walking all over, all right?"
"Great," muttered Dana.
Spike turned to glare at her. "An' that's the other thing; you aren't coming on this ride."
She frowned. "What happened to taking me with you?"
"Oh, you're coming. You're just not playing," he clarified.
"Too dangerous?"
"For a Slayer? Nah. Too… evil. Even for a crazy Slayer."
Illyria closed her eyes. "No!"
"Yes!" growled Spike.
"Um, can the rest of us hear the plan?" asked Connor.
Illyria shook her head. "No. We won't speak of it, we won't think of it, we won't DO it!" There was a very deliberate anger in her voice.
"It's easy," said Spike. "He wants to kill me, right? At least, it's a secondary goal. Otherwise he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of this elaborate charade. He has armies. He could have just gone into a frontal assault, right?"
Illyria shook her head. "He is pushing towards an ancillary goal that you don't see."
"Big deal. He gets a chance like this, he is coming after me."
Connor got it, and slapped the table. "You want to draw him out by setting up a situation where he can kill you?"
Dana considered it. "But he's really after Slayers, right?"
Spike's face lit up with horror, and then Dana remembered his quick denial when she'd asked if it would be dangerous for her. Of course it wouldn't be dangerous; he didn't want it to be dangerous.
But that was just the way he wanted it, not the way it was.
What he really meant to say was that he didn't intend for her to have any part of this plan, because she could get killed.
"She thinks you're a chauvinist pig," said Illyria, interpreting Dana's glare for Spike.
"No, I think she's just mad because he's suicidal," said Connor.
Illyria sighed. "There's that, too. I wonder which is stronger?"
"Oh, I'd say they work together to stoke the fires of rage," said Connor.
"Shut up!" barked Spike. "He's already killed Slayers, Dana."
It was unheard of for him to use her name, anyone's name. Unheard of and so very, very wrong. She was beginning to understand Spike, and this scared her. "I just want to help."
"But he's ready for you! He's got a plan all put together for taking care of you, for making sure you never, ever bother him, for making sure you can't bother him! Don't you see?"
"He's got the same plan for you," said Dana. Spike could throw words out better than anyone she knew, but she had learned that ability from him. And right now she needed those words, needed to convince him just how much he needed to listen to her.
"Aa!" He clutched his head in both hands. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"
"Hey!" said Connor.
"I mean me," he replied coldly. "Look, Dana, here's the thing; people I lo—what are you looking at?"
Connor continued to stare at Spike as if he'd grown two heads. "Wow," he said simply.
Dana shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not an expert on these things, but you were about to say love, and I think it freaked him out."
"No, that wasn't the problem," said Connor. "The problem is that up until this point I've been thinking about this Boris guy as a kind of underworld power broker, but I just now realized why his name should have rung a bell."
"Beautiful warrior?" asked Illyria.
"What?" said Spike, annoyed.
"His names. Boris means warrior, and Krisnoff is from the Russian… Krasnov, beautiful." She gave him an annoyed glare. "I thought you understood languages?"
Spike chuckled. "Rich."
Dana shook her head. "Um, not to be the voice of reason, but so what?"
"It's a pseudonym," said Connor. "Not his real name."
Dana thought about it. "Again, so what?"
Spike chuckled. "Oh, that's clever."
"Beautiful warrior?" Illyria was still puzzled. "It's nonsensical."
"No, see, Connor was just thinking about that statement of mine. The one where I said I was in the best position to fight the guy."
Dana got it very quickly then.
"Okay, what? He's a male Slayer?" she asked.
Spike nodded. "I was wrong. We're gonna need the Watcher."
"But that's impossible!" wailed Dana.
"Not impossible. Inevitable," said Connor. "The Slayer power is inherently female, right? Yin and yang. Balance. Everything has an opposite. It's not right to call him a male Slayer, either. He's an anti-Slayer."
Illyria shook her head. "It's a good theory, but it falls apart. Slayers have an opposite. Vampires, which they were created to fight."
"The thing is, what made the guy mad?" asked Spike. "Too many Slayers. An upset in the balance, right?"
Connor was going through his papers. "Okay, she's right, this is just a theory, but his name, the whole situation, not to mention all those little notes in his file about superhuman strength…"
Dana sighed. "You guys just don't want to answer the question. Spike? Why can't I be your bait?"
Spike glowered at her. "Because I risk my life on a regular basis, but I won't risk other people's lives."
"And that bit about love?"
"If it bugs you, think about it as a sort of brotherly love."
"Is it?"
"Maybe, maybe not," he said, infuriating her.
Illyria shook her head. "Balance does not mean there must be a male anti-Slayer! The Slayer themselves are a form of balance—all that power in a little girl who is essentially unstable and neurotic! Sometimes psychotic!"
"Not that often," mumbled Dana.
Spike grumbled something under his breath.
"What was that?" asked Illyria hotly.
"I said hit the deck," he replied, and dove towards Dana, knocking her down to the floor, forcing her to a prone position and holding her there with arms like steel.
Glass shattered somewhere overhead, and Connor yelled. A second later Illyria went flying, tumbling through the air over their heads.
Spike set his shoulders. "When I say run, you bloody run, and if you argue I'll kill you myself!" he hissed.
Then he was up and in motion, fists moving like lightning, clearing a space above them, knocking away men in body armor and black ski masks.
Then Dana felt the tingling begin in her neck, the tingling that meant the vampires had arrived, and she shrieked, climbing to her feet.
