You know, when I posted that first chapter, I honestly hadn't expected anyone to read it. I had really only posted it for me. But then I had someone review and I was like, 'holy crap, someone actually read it'. So I wanted to thank the people that read it, reviewed, favorited, or any combination thereof. So thank you: SamanthaArtemisWeasley, hulettwyo, miss-cute-7, CharmedPrincessRach, SoUtHeRnBeLLe706, onecelestialbeing, Celes Warren, MasaJeevas, CrimsonSnowEye, draconisnoire43, shikyoDEATH, the-asian-fidget, twinkletin24, Kiramae, UntilNeverDawns, bruna. , Midnights-Song-bird, SemiraBlake, BlueEyedDreamer97, and even you, Anonymous reviewer (You were the only one, so you know who you are). I also thank the ones of you that read without doing any of that stuff. That's cool, too.
Okay, so I had a chapter two written up ages ago and I was going to post it ages ago, except for the fact that I absolutely hated it. For months, months, I labored over it, trying to make it better and not so out-of-character, but it wouldn't cooperate. It refused, and in a fit of rage near the holidays, I called it rude things, told it what it could do with itself, that I would work on any other story except for that one, and gave an evil cackle that villains the world over would envy. And then, two days later, the chapter prostrated itself before me and begged my forgiveness for being such a contrary little pain in the arse. Needless to say, I forgave it and here we are. And since it's a little over twice the length of the first chapter, I don't feel nearly as guilty as I should for taking so long to update. So without further ado, here's chapter two. (I could not find any way to keep that sentence from rhyming. My apologies.)
Spike stretched and looked around for a clock. He'd lost track of how long he was sitting on the couch watching television. In his defense, they'd been showing a Passions marathon.
The clock remained elusive, but instinct told him it was nearing sundown. He sighed. He was hungry and he was going to have to get up to do something about it. Spike hated to move; this couch was actually comfortable, something he hadn't been expecting. He'd pulled out the mattress about an hour into the marathon since there was no coffee table for him to prop his feet on. It was starting to look like Finley didn't spend much time at home, let alone in front of the telly. He shrugged, not really his business.
Finally, he managed to summon the energy to get up off of the couch. He leaned on the open refrigerator door and pondered his choices. On the one hand, there was the animal blood, but on the other… he couldn't remember the last time he'd had human blood, even the bagged kind. That's what you get for bein' a bloody white hat, he told himself. It had been more than two days since he'd last fed. Hard to do on the road, especially with a slayer and a grandsire that were picky about where the blood came from. The blood would only last in the fridge for so long, and he'd hate for it to go bad. And after she'd gone through the trouble of getting it, that'd just be rude! Decision made, he ripped open the baggie and poured the contents into a mug so he could microwave it. He'd only made the mistake of microwaving a baggie once, and he'd very nearly cried over the spilt blood. The beep of the microwave shook him from that horrible memory. Spike made a note to send all the animal blood upstairs to Angel, and ask Finley not to mention that she'd gotten human blood as well. Angel would tell Buffy. And Buffy would take all the yummy goodness away. He couldn't have that, seeing as he'd finally met someone that didn't seem bothered by the fact that vampires like blood. That really bugged him. He was a vampire for cripe's sake! What do people expect him to eat? He wondered if she liked football. If she did, she'd be perfect!
He settled back into his dent in the couch and, bringing the mug up to his mouth, nearly choked. Bleedin' bloody hell, it was fresh! A day old at most! There was no way she got that from a soddin' blood bank!
He stared hard at his mug o' blood.
Forget the football. Next time he saw her he was going to ask her to marry him.
Spike glanced up as he heard a groan come from Finley's bedroom. She'd been tossing and turning for hours and it looked like she was finally giving up on the idea of sleep. A drawer shut a little harder than necessary and then there was silence. He felt her hesitate behind the door.
"You gonna' come out or just stand there all day thinkin' 'bout it?" he called out.
She emerged from her room with a sheepish expression on her face. "Sorry. I wasn't sure whether you'd be asleep or not." She said, shifting her armful of clothes.
"Nah. Slept most of the way here." He snorted, recalling what had prompted him to sleep in the first place. "It was that or take part in the 'wonder what the new slayer's like' conversation."
Finley grinned. "Smart man." She readjusted her bundle one last time before ducking into the bathroom.
He eyed the closed door. After last night, he didn't figure she'd be very talkative, but he thought he'd get more conversation than that. Though, he supposed if he hadn't slept in more than a day, he might be cranky and ignore his houseguest in favor of a nice hot shower as well. Satisfied with his reasoning, he settled back into his Spike-shaped groove in the sofa to continue watching Passions.
Ten minutes later she emerged freshly washed in clothes that weren't ripped or covered in bloodstains. It gave her the look of an entirely different person. Even after her shower, she still smelled delicious, albeit in a squeaky-clean kind of way as opposed to the bloody after-the-fight way. Both were equally enticing. He watched as Finley tugged at the bottom of her button-up shirt, straightening it over dark skinny jeans, and busied herself turning up the sleeves. He used her distraction to look her over. He'd been right when he said she had a nice figure, admittedly not overly voluptuous but definitely woman-shaped. She looked to be the active type, had to be to have even a slim chance against the supernatural. Fighting for your life tended to tone down the wriggly bits that turned men's heads. The bruising on her face had faded a bit, the scratches no longer an angry red but a more subdued pink. Bright green eyes, a stubborn jaw, and a pouty lower lip were framed by hair that was almost black with damp. His eyes wandered down to admire her long legs, looking even longer in the jeans she wore. He also noticed that she was tall enough to be intimidating when the situation warranted it. He absently questioned if she might use that height against the Slayer. If she did, he wanted to be present for it.
She flopped face-down on the couch with a groan.
Spike forced away his smirk, instead choosing to ask after her wellbeing. "You alright?"
A muffled, "Peachy keen," was his answer.
He snorted. "You always sleep that badly?"
"Feels like it."
"Sucks to be you." He took another swallow of his nummy treat.
"Thanks." Finley turned to lie on her side so that she could see both Spike and the television. "You know just what to say to a girl. They must be falling all over themselves to have you whisper sweet nothings in their ears."
Feisty. He hid a smile behind his mug. "You an' me are goin' to get along famously, pet."
"Something told me that you wouldn't take that as the snide comment it was meant to be."
Spike just grinned at her as she rolled her eyes and pretended to be engrossed in the television show he'd been watching.
"Bloke's a right idiot, don't you think?" he asked during the next commercial break because one didn't talk during Passions. It just wasn't done. Puzzled when he didn't get an answer, he asked again. "Pet?" He looked over, not noticing the lopsided smile that crossed his face when he realized she was asleep. Her head was cradled in the crook of her arm, face nearly hidden by her other arm and hair. Spike realized he was falling down on the job if he was just now noticing that Finley had fallen asleep.
He had gotten up to put his empty mug in the sink and resettled himself before he felt that something was off about this situation. His eyes narrowed as he glanced around the basement room. His temporary roommate shifted in her sleep and his gaze drifted back to her.
That's when it hit him.
Finley had fallen asleep in front of a vampire. And not just in front of a vampire, but right next to one! Spike was dumbfounded. A human's sense of self-preservation usually made it necessary for them to keep the vamp in their sights at all times. Even if they didn't consciously know they were in the same room as a vampire, their instincts still wouldn't allow them to relax completely. Hell, the only vamp the slayer could sleep in front of was her husband!
He paused to gauge whether or not she was just dozing. Shallow and steady breaths, slow pulse. The chit was deeply asleep, no doubt about that. It shouldn't have been possible, even if she didn't perceive him as a threat. It certainly seemed as though she could hold her own, he didn't doubt that after last night, but still…
He shook his head. Maybe he'd ask Giles about it.
After Passions, of course.
Long after the marathon had gone off and Spike had found the sports channel, Finley stirred. He glanced over as she gave a lazy stretch and then froze, eyes flying open.
"Mornin', pet."
"Hi." She said, finally recognizing her surroundings.
Taking in her still slightly confused face, he decided to tease her a bit. "Hurts my feelin's, it does, you not seein' me as a threat. Must be losin' my touch."
Finley gave him a wry smile. "Sorry."
"No, you're not." He paused, thoughts of teasing her disappearing. "It is strange, though, you bein' able to sleep in front of vampire. Master at that. Would think you'd need to know where I was at all times, us sharin' breathin' room an' all."
She shrugged. "Light sleeper. I probably would have noticed if you moved around a lot."
He nodded in agreement. She had stirred when he got up to rinse out his mug. "So you would've noticed if someone came downstairs?"
"Of course," she gave a little laugh and pointed to the door leading upstairs, "That door squeaks and that door," she motioned to the other entrance. "you have to manhandle to open."
"No sneakin' up on you, is there?" Spike wasn't exactly expecting a verbal reply, so was unoffended when all she gave him was a small smile. He was too busy pondering her seeming ability to sleep in front of vampires to continue with the banter. She appeared to sense that and apparently didn't mind a moment of companionable silence. He turned to her, thoughts still swirling in a disorganized mess. "But I'm a vampire! Humanity's not-so-natural predator!"
Finley didn't seem overly alarmed about the situation. "Guess it doesn't matter. Besides, I'm not really getting a homicidal vibe off of you. The 'I vahnt to sahck your blahd' vibe, sure. Be worried if I didn't. But as far as feeling threatened… not so much."
Spike almost flinched at the blow to his vampire prowess, but the demon practically purred at the revelation. He decided to ignore that for the moment. "Breakin' my heart, luv."
"Want me to lie?" With effort, she forced the smirk off her face. "I've been told that I'm very convincing." Her head tilted. "Maybe not to vamps, but I'll give it my best shot if it's what you want."
"Too late now." He heaved a greatly put-out sigh. "So what kinda vibe are you gettin'?"
She gave him a cheeky grin. "Not telling."
"Why the hell not?" He glared at the blatant amusement on her face.
"You've already lost your touch and had your heart broken. We should stop before your brain explodes."
Yep. The chit was clearly enjoying this. "I'll risk it."
Finley stood and headed upstairs. "But I don't want to scrape you off my walls."
His frustration forced him to his feet. "You can't just say somethin' like that an' walk away!"
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob, turned, and gave him smirk that could rival his own. "Sure I can."
With that, she was gone, and Spike was left glaring at the door and muttering about what happened to humans that didn't give Masters the respect they were owed. He fell back on the couch, no closer to answers than he had been. He was starting to doubt that the Watcher would succeed where he hadn't. And just what vibe was she getting? And why was his demon excited about the prospect of someone that didn't fear him? Could sleep in front of him even? He idly wondered if Finley could sleep in front of other vampires, or if he was the exception. The demon was quite vocal about the option he preferred, which was strange in itself. The demon generally kept his mouth shut about the people they ran into unless it was to ponder about who would make a better meal or who would scream the loudest. For the demon to voice his opinion on anything else was a novelty, one Spike wasn't entirely sure how to feel about. But the thought that kept forcing its way to the forefront of his mind didn't have anything to do with his demon. No, it had to do with her.
Just who was Finley Cooper?
Finley could almost see the tension in the air as she stepped into the kitchen. Amalia sat at the table, absently tracing the wood-grain with her finger while Shizune studiously ignored her. God, she needed alcohol for this. Sadly, the house was still dry from the last argument her friends had had.
She sighed. Soda it was. Maybe a caffeine buzz would keep her from banging her roommates' heads together.
Maybe.
Finley closed the refrigerator door after grabbing a drink and leaned on it. "Something wrong?"
"Amalia keeps psyching herself out," Shizune answered, obviously displeased with the Slayer.
She popped the tab on the can. "About what?"
The priestess gestured to the kitchen window. Outside, Buffy and Willow were struggling to keep a training dummy upright while Angel watched from the safety of the shaded porch. Giles sat calmly on the porch swing reading and making notes, occasionally asking Angel for input.
"Oh." Finley turned to Amalia. "Exactly which part is bothering you?"
The new Slayer threw up her arm. "Everything!"
"Yeah… I need you to be a little more specific."
"They're going to think I'm an idiot!" Amalia wailed. "I'm going to fail so epically they write books about it! I'll be an example to other Slayers of how not to screw up!"
Finley bit her lip to keep from laughing at the look of alarm on Angel's face as he looked toward the kitchen. "I think you're overreacting just a little."
Shizune glared. "That's what I said!"
Ah. So that's what they were squabbling over. Maybe she could get through this without the alcohol.
"I'm not overreacting!" The blonde's protest was met with a raised brow from both of her friends. The Slayer drooped. "Alright, maybe a little. But you don't understand!"
Finley crossed one leg over the other, letting the fridge take the brunt of her weight. "Then help us."
Amalia sighed. "I don't know what to do. I've never been in a fight before."
"They're not expecting you to be a ninja." Shizune pointed out.
"Yeah, but…"
Finley's eyes jumped to the shadowed doorway where Spike had stopped, not wanting to interrupt the New Slayer's Pity Party. He just did manage to school the shock of being discovered off his features, but it didn't matter. She had already turned her focus back to her friend. "Amalia, they know you don't have any training. It's why they're here."
"But…"
The Slayer was pinned in place by a level stare from Finley. "What's really bugging you?"
The blonde's eyebrows scrunched together. "You fight vampires, right?"
Her friend was taken aback by the question. "Probably not as much as you think I do but, yeah, I fight vampires."
"Still. You know what it's like."
Finley nodded in realization. "You're worried about sparring with Spike and Angel."
"How did-" Amalia let out a defeated sigh. "Yeah."
Her friend's confusion was obvious. "Why?"
"You did say that they were half of the Scourge of Europe. I may not be a genius, but I'm pretty sure that 'scourge' isn't a compliment."
"Is to vampires. But they're with the good guys now."
Amalia frowned. "Why doesn't that bother you? Or are you just pretending that it doesn't?"
"It really doesn't bother me." Finley answered honestly.
The Slayer eyed her friend warily. "I think I just found something that worries me more than training with vampires."
"Glad to be of service."
Shizune also eyed Finley. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but why doesn't that bother you?"
Finley calmly sipped her caffeinated beverage. "Means they know what they're doing."
The priestess shook a finger. "No. It means they know how to kill people in horrific ways."
"Not helping, guys." The slayer threw in.
"What is it with people wanting me to lie to them today?" Finley muttered to herself. She sighed and turned to the priestess. "What would you like me to say?"
"Something reassuring."
"Because you're doing such a swell job."
Shizune glared.
"Fine." She straightened up and put a sickeningly cheerful smile on her face. "It'll be great! Killing vampires is in your DNA! Besides, it's just sparring! You know, all the fun of a real fight without any of the dying!"
Spike stifled a snicker with his hand. He could almost see the pompoms in her hand and the color-coordinated ribbons in her hair.
"That was just plain creepy." The priestess remarked dryly.
Finley dropped the perky persona. "There's just no satisfying you, is there?"
"How can you call that fun?" the Slayer demanded.
Shizune just looked at her. "You do realize who you're asking?"
Amalia gave a slight nod in acceptance. "I see your point."
The friends lapsed into silence. Spike had been about to step into the kitchen when the new Slayer spoke up. "It's just- Fin, you don't understand. I mean, I know you don't have any problem with vampires or demons, but you're not a Slayer. They're not constantly trying to kill you."
Finley's bark of laughter startled them. "I wish Mathias had heard you say that." She swiped a hand under her eye. "Speaking of, you don't seem to have a problem with him. Or Vlad, for that matter."
"They didn't terrorize an entire continent!"
"Or have awful monikers like, I don't know, the Scourge of Europe." Shizune cut in.
Spike was intrigued by Finley's dark chuckle. "Mathias and Vlad had names, too. And they carry just as much weight as Spike and Angelus. Hell, maybe more."
"More infamous than Angelus and William the Bloody?" Amalia's tone was incredulous. "I don't believe it."
The dark humor was still present on Finley's face. "Believe what you want. But know that they wouldn't be within one hundred miles of you if I thought they were a threat."
The Slayer nodded.
Shizune turned to Amalia. ""Come on. You should probably change into something you can move around in."
As her friends left to go upstairs, Finley moved to sit at the kitchen table. "Learn anything of interest?" she asked the doorway.
"Not sure yet. You know, you could've mentioned the souls. Might have helped." Spike pulled out a chair and sat down on the shady side of the table, where the light from the setting sun couldn't reach him.
Finley snorted. "That's a lousy argument. Souls don't keep humans from killing each other. Why would it stop a vampire?"
He winced. "When you put it like that…"
"Doesn't matter if she trusts you," The brunette stated. "She just has to learn from you." She sighed and leaned back in her chair to face the ceiling. "Sometimes I really hate Slayers."
His curiosity had been piqued. "Why's that, luv?"
"They're so black-and-white," she complained. "That isn't the way the world's colored. And then there's that righteous indignation, the 'holier than thou, I'm right because I'm the destined one' attitude… Makes you want to throttle the lot of them. Luckily, I didn't have to deal with that today."
Spike couldn't help but ponder over her world-view. Right as she was, it was generally the view of someone who had lived much longer. Then one of her remarks registered; she'd been talking about Slayers in the plural sense. "I take it you've met a few Slayers?"
"Yeah. They keep finding their way to my hellmouth."
He almost laughed at her petulant frown. "Your hellmouth?"
"I am well aware of my usage of a possessive pronoun." She replied pertly, but continued before he could respond. "It's always the untrained ones that find their way here, telling me how to handle my affairs like they know something about me. I generally try to encourage them to move on."
Spike didn't see many Slayers cooperating with such a request. "And when they don't?"
"I tell them to get the hell off my hellmouth."
"I don't see that workin' either."
A mischievous smile worked itself across her face. "It's about fifty-fifty. If they don't leave, I inform the Watcher's Council that there's an untrained Slayer in need of their guidance."
He gently tapped her forehead with his finger. "Devious lil' mind in that noggin, innit?"
"Wouldn't be the first time I've heard someone say so." Finley's eyes danced with impish amusement.
"Don't doubt that for a second." His thoughts shifted to her blonde roommate. "What about Amalia? You tell her to leave?"
"No. She's from the area; it's where the Council would assign her anyway. Besides, she's mine."
Spike was starting to notice a trend in her thinking; she tended to claim what she saw as hers, much like a vampire would do. He wondered if she was aware of it. No, she knew. He was certain of it. But was it a personal quirk of hers, or did she learn it from the vampires she dealt with on a daily basis? He had a feeling that the answer to that question would shed some light on the enigma that was Finley Cooper.
His thoughts were interrupted by the kitchen door slamming open, Buffy belatedly jerking out a hand to catch it. Angel, who had winced at the noise the door made, shut it as gently as possible once everyone had filed inside.
Giles settled himself at the table, shuffling papers into an order that only he understood. He adjusted his glasses and looked around. "Where is Amalia?"
Finley tilted her chair back to get a view of what was beyond the doorway. "Amalia!"
"Yeah?" A voice echoed from somewhere in the house.
"Watcher wants you!"
Feet thudded down the stairs and the newest Slayer appeared in the kitchen. "What's up?" She sat in the empty chair next to Finley.
Giles pulled a paper from his stack and passed it to Amalia. "I've compiled a list of demons indigenous to the area. Buffy has agreed to show you the best course of action when dealing with them."
Amalia studied the list, unaware that her friend was reading over her shoulder. Her friend turned to Giles. "You do realize that most of those are harmless, right?"
The Watcher's shock was obvious. "I beg your pardon?"
"Harmless." Finley motioned to the list. "Most of those."
"Are you certain?" Giles asked her, roughly polishing his glasses.
"Pretty damn."
"Harmless demons," Buffy scoffed. "There's no such thing!"
Finley merely raised an eyebrow. "Funny. You work with two."
Spike leapt from his chair. "Oi! I am not harmless!" he protested. His outburst was met with a withering stare from Finley. He quickly decided that was one devious mind he wanted to keep on his side and sank back down in his seat. "Right. Sorry."
"That's different." The veteran Slayer insisted.
"Really?" Finley asked, apparently quite interested in the answer.
"I don't have to explain myself to you!"
"I'm not asking for an explanation," Finley stated calmly. "I'm advising you to listen to someone 'indigenous to the area'."
"You can't expect me to believe that! Demons are bad, they're evil! It's what makes them demons!"
Giles caught sight of Angel's wince and Spike's murderous glare towards the young woman he saw as a daughter. But was unnerved by the perception present in Finley's eyes after noticing the same things he had. "Buffy!" he admonished, hoping the Slayer would drop the subject.
Willow glanced worriedly around the table. "It is a little out there." She said, trying desperately to keep the peace.
Finley obviously didn't care about trying to keep said peace. "Look. I don't care whether you believe me or not, but I will caution you against your anti-demon agenda. You won't live long enough to carry it out."
And just like that, the tentative peace was gone. "Are you threatening me?" Buffy challenged.
Spike noticed that Finley's dark humor was back, apparently very amused with the situation. "Hardly. When I threaten you, there will be no need for clarification." Unknown to the rest, she carefully hooked a foot around the bottom rung of the Slayer's chair, anticipating how her remark was likely to be taken.
"Oh, really? And how-" Buffy's tirade was changed into a shriek as her chair appeared to have grown a mind of its own and proceeded to dump her onto the floor.
Finley continued on as if nothing had happened. "There's a Tribunal. The Tribunal enforces the laws of the supernatural population. They don't take kindly to Slayers killing law-abiding citizens. Hence the reason I warned you not to do that."
Shizune took that moment to wander into the kitchen, drawn downstairs by the feminine scream. Angel helped his wife, who was holding a hand to the back of her head, back into her chair as Giles and Willow regarded Finley with twin looks of excitement. "Laws?" Willow asked at the same time as Giles questioned "Tribunal?"
Angel moved to stand behind Buffy. "What do you mean by that?"
Finley gave him a look that visibly stated what she thought of his intelligence. "Exactly what I said. It's not like I have a stutter, I was pretty clear."
"You mean to say that the demons in this town are united under a central ruling body?" The Watcher wasn't going to have any glasses left if he didn't ease up on them.
Spike could tell that Finley wanted out of this conversation. It was confirmed when she gave a monosyllabic confirmation to Giles' question before rising to leave.
"If you would be so kind as to explain how this is possible?" The Watcher requested, effectively destroying any chance of escape.
Spike pulled out the chair next to him and patted the seat. "C'mere, pet. Just explain it the once."
Reluctantly, she took the offered seat, her eyes damning him as a traitor. She sighed and answered the question in a bored monotone. "The supernatural population is governed by the Tribunal. The Tribunal is made up of Representatives. The Representatives are headed by the Elite."
Finley had started leave yet again when Giles cut her off. "How are these representatives chosen?"
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "They're chosen by their clan, or line, one per."
Excited by the prospect of learning something new, Willow jumped in. "And these Elites, are they like Elders?"
"Sure. Except that elders are chosen for their advanced age and experience while the Elites are chosen for… other attributes."
Finley's attempt at subtlety was lost on the Wiccan. "What kind of attributes?"
Resisting the urge to repeatedly bang her head into the table, Finley tried to answer the question as delicately as she could. "Generally, it's their… standing in the demon community. Uh, status. Rank."
Angel and Spike exchanged a look. Willow may not have understood what Finley was alluding to with her vague hints, but they certainly did.
"What does this council do, exactly?" Well, it seemed that Giles had finally figured it out.
"You mean besides keeping an eye on the body count and the Order of Morgana from plunging the world into a hell dimension every six months?" Finley's eyes lit up at a sudden thought. "You should really put them on your list. I know that, technically, they're human, but they're some nasty sons of bitches to run across."
"The Order of Morgana? Here?" Giles tried to remove his glasses so that he could polish the lenses, but realized they were already in his hand. "Dear, Lord."
"Mmm." She affirmed. "Probably because of the hellmouth. Makes it easier to start an apocalypse."
Buffy turned to Willow. "What's the Order of Mortgage?"
Willow shivered. "Morgana. And only the nastiest group of warlocks in the history of ever."
"How'd they get that title?"
"Let's just say there's a lot of ritual sacrifice. The kind where the sacrifice isn't exactly willing." The redhead was starting to look a little green and the Slayer had gone quiet.
"Think we're nearing the six-month mark," Finley murmured to herself.
Giles put his glasses back on. "Consider them added to the list."
Spike eyed Finley, a thoughtful look on his face. "Luv, who actually keeps 'em from destroyin' the world on a regular basis?"
"The Tribunal does employ retainers for that kind of thing. But as far as taking on Morgana's Sect, I think that falls to a bloodline they screwed over back in the day." She fielded the question with ease.
He knew she wasn't lying to him; her heartbeat remained steady and she didn't employ any of the usual tells, but he didn't believe that it was the whole truth for a second. Well, maybe the part about the bloodline. He'd bet money that she'd clean out a bloke in a poker game.
Red was back to being the over-excited student. "Oh. So a white-magic family keeps them in line."
Spike knew by Finley's face that Willow was way off the mark again. "That was a polite way of sayin' it's a vamp line, Red." After all, vampires were the masters at holding grudges. There was definitely more to Finley than she let on. And she definitely knew more about vamp culture than any other human he'd ever met. Though, unlike most, she didn't seem alarmed by any aspect of vamp nature. Hell, she'd gotten him and Angel fresh human blood!
Willow seemed to deflate. "Oh."
"You seem pretty informed of things for someone who claims to be human." Angel voiced his suspicions.
Finley pointed to herself. "Secretary in a supernatural law firm. I know lots of useless stuff."
"I could hardly call what you've told us 'useless'." He frowned, the expression quite similar to the patented Brood Face.
Spike sighed. It was nice that Angel was finally catching on, but he was treating her like the enemy. Finley might be a lot of things, most of which he didn't know, but she wasn't the enemy. That much he was sure of.
"It's as good as. None of it does me a damn bit of good because of that humanity you seem so reluctant to believe I possess."
Spike tried to hide his grin, he really did.
Okay, so he didn't. And it only grew when Angel glared.
Giles, ever the mediator, tried to direct attention elsewhere. "While we have her in a relatively talkative mood, perhaps we should ask about those rumors we can't seem to verify."
Buffy's expression was scornful. "You really think she'll know anything?"
"Her humanity means that demons are likely to speak freely in front of her due to the belief that she is part of an inferior race." The Watcher stated calmly.
Finley gave Giles a small smile. It was nice to know that someone believed she was human.
"Whatever." The veteran Slayer crossed her arms and proceeded to sulk.
Amalia perked up. "What rumors?"
"The ones about a relatively new player in town. Goes by the name 'Friday'. We want to know if there's any truth to what we've heard." Angel answered.
"Yes," Giles continued, "We believe this person moved to the area about five years ago and started making a name for themselves."
Finley gave the Watcher a strange look. "What kind of name is 'Friday'?"
"Huh. Guess she doesn't know anything." Buffy's voice adopted a distinct 'I told you so' tone. She stood and shot a quick glance at the window. "Looks dark enough to start training. Let's go."
Amalia looked at Giles as they headed outside. "What will you do while we train?"
"I suppose I'll be revising my list." He answered, obviously quite depressed about the fact.
When Spike made no move to get up, Angel turned back. "You coming?"
"In a bit. I think she might know more'n she thinks she does." He waited until Angel and the rest of the Scoobies were out of hearing range before turning a grin to Finley. "Alright, luv, just you an' me now. What do you really know?"
Finley held a hand over her heart. "It really hurts that you think I'd lie to you and your friends." She intoned with a dramatic flair that put soap stars to shame.
He repressed the urge to laugh at her theatrics, even though he knew she wasn't hurt by the accusation. "Oh, not lie. You're too clever for that. I do, however, think you downplay your role in things. Things like avertin' apocalypses, things like your rank in the demon community. But I know you downplay your intelligence. Though, it doesn't seem to be an act you're puttin' on solely for our benefit. Look, none of that really matters much. I figure you have your reasons." He paused. "The thing about secretaries, luv, is they know everythin' that goes on around 'em. Everythin'. S'what makes 'em useful. An' if you weren't useful, the vamp you work for would've eaten you by now. He hasn't, means you're good for more'n filin' an' answerin' phones. Apparently, this is a concept that has escaped everyone else…" Spike gave an annoyed huff. "Besides that, you say you're good in a fight. Takin' out Masters? Skill like that, you sure as hell don't work for a fledge. The vamp you work for is a Master, and Masters tend to rule the hellmouth they're on. Means you know just as much about what goes on here as that Master. Maybe more. Now. You tell me what I want to know, an' I don't tell everybody that your innocent little secretary routine is just that, a routine."
He was met with a level stare on an unimpressed face. "No."
"No?" Spike's shock was evident.
"No." Finley either wasn't afraid or didn't care in the slightest. "You're right. I work with a Master. Two, actually. Means you're going to have to try a lot harder to be intimidating. Though, you could just ask. Without the blackmail."
"That would work?"
She rolled her eyes. "Better than blackmail would."
"Alright." He nodded in agreement. "So will you tell me about Friday?"
Finley didn't seem to have taken his threat to heart because she started talking to him as if he hadn't just tried to threaten her. "I warn you, it isn't much."
"It'll still be more than we have now. All we've got is a name. And that they're growin' into a major player. Anythin' you've got would help."
She smiled. "For starters, Friday's female."
"Oh, that'll kill Angel!" His face was absolutely gleeful.
"Mm-hmm…" Her smile faded as she paused to collect her thoughts. "She's damned lethal. Morgana's Sect can attest to that."
"Friday's the one what deals with 'em?"
Her nose scrunched. "I don't think she deals with them every time, but I can't say for sure."
"What else you got?"
"She isn't good or evil, but she's honorable. That's the part you care about, right? Whether or not your Slayer gets to kill her?" There was a sardonic twist to her lips now. "I suggest you inform her that Friday's the reason that Amalia is still alive. She's given her protection to the Slayer, at least until she's trained."
Spike sighed, choosing to place that particular subject on the backburner for the time being. But he couldn't help but be impressed by the faceless Friday. It hadn't taken her long to climb to the top of the dog pile. "So she's already a major player if she can make demons think twice about offin' a Slayer."
"Yeah. If I could find her in the phone book, I'd send her a fruit basket."
"She a vampire?" he doubted that Friday could be human. Giles was right on that front; demons didn't pay much attention to humans. They sure as hell wouldn't stop going after a Slayer just because someone told them to. No, Friday would need to back up such a request with the use of force, something a human wouldn't be able to do.
"Most people think so. The first theory is that a Master claimed her under his line. Whether or not said Master let her stay human is up to whoever's telling the story. The second, and this is the most popular, is that a Master turned her and she rebelled against him. The old-school kind of rebellion where one kills their sire, their sire's allies, and takes over the line."
"Either way, she's still…" he trailed off.
"Yeah." She agreed.
"Anythin' else? Other than her bein' a vamp?"
Finley appeared to be racking her brain for something else to give him. "It's said she was approached by the Powers That Be about becoming a Champion, but she refused. Something about not liking how they do things."
"Wise decision." He thought back to when Angel was working for the Powers. Spike's only contact with them had been through Angel. He didn't envy his grandsire in the slightest; the Powers were always screwing over the hired help. "Angel's much happier bein' off their payroll."
"I can imagine." A muted beep was heard and she fumbled with her cell phone, trying to get it out of her pocket without standing up. She pressed a button and studied the screen. "Looks like you'll get to meet Mathias sooner rather than later. He might know more about Friday than I do."
They passed the next few minutes in silence, until Spike's thoughts circled around to the argument that had taken place when they first arrived. "You know, pet, there's somethin' I'm wonderin'."
Finley looked up.
"This Evans, you seem to hate him a lot more'n your friend, and she was the one he wanted to sell for parts."
She shrugged, which was an action it looked like she did often. "Probably do."
"Why's that?" he asked.
"Could be because, until last night, I was the only one who knew what he was planning."
It made sense. "How'd you even find out?"
"Just did."
Spike just looked at her, unwilling to be deterred.
"Fine." She groaned. "He showed up on our doorstep about a week after I informed the Watcher's Council about Amalia. I thought it was a little strange, but I just chalked it up to new management. That's as far as my good will stretched. I didn't like him from the start. Amalia gave me a week of the silent treatment because I refused to shake his hand, not that I really cared. I outright snubbed him. I knew he wasn't there to train her and he knew that I knew. And you'd get a peek at what was under the mask every time I refused to leave them alone together, which was every time he was over. But they didn't see it, didn't want to I guess. One day, they started a fight over it, biggest we've ever had. I said something along the lines of 'don't call me when you're face-down in a ditch somewhere' and left. Evans was finally going to get his alone-time with the Slayer. Only his plan didn't work out quite the way he wanted it to. He disappeared, and my Slayer wasn't bled, dismembered, and sold to the highest bidder so…"
His brow quirked in disbelief. "Just don't mesh, pet. I know I only met you yesterday, but somethin' isn't addin' up. You dealt with two Masters on your own, but you stand idly by while a human targets your friend? And then you take a passive approach to thin's and wait for karma to get him?"
She looked at him, allowing him to read whatever she didn't say in her eyes. "Is it still considered behaving passively if you're the one that weighted the dice?"
Spike barely had time to digest her response when a stranger burst into the kitchen with an enthusiastic, "Cooper!"
His dark blonde hair was neatly combed to the side and his blue eyes looked warily at Finley. He had a build similar to Angel's, but he didn't dress nearly a badly. He had a really preppy look: khakis, collared polo shirt, the whole nine yards. Spike suddenly appreciated his leather duster all the more.
The stranger cowered under the strength of Finley's glare, much as he himself had done earlier. The man, who Spike assumed was the famous 'vampire boss' Mathias, backed hastily out of the room only to return a half second later with two boxes wrapped in a nondescript brown paper. He quickly sat them in front of Finley, as if he were afraid he might draw back a nub. "I humbly beg your forgiveness."
Spike eyed the Master vampire, figuring he must be masking his aura to keep off Buffy's radar. Apparently, he didn't want any trouble.
Finley eyed the first box suspiciously. It was a large rectangular shape, about four feet long and seemed to have a bit of weight to it. She unwrapped it slowly, carefully keeping the box angled so that Spike couldn't see in, though it didn't stop him from trying. Just when he was about to explode from a mix of frustration and curiosity, she lifted the lid and drew out a sword. Spike's eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
"Since yours was ruined by that tar demon." Mathias looked mournful. "A real shame."
Finley held the sword out to the side, testing the heft and examining the blade. When she was satisfied with its quality, she set it aside and reached for the second box. While she removed the paper, Spike snagged the shiny new sword. It had been a while since he'd held something this impressive. Obviously, the girl knew what to look for in a blade. But the real jealousy struck when he saw that the second gift was a pair of wickedly cast boot knives. He wondered if he could hold the sword hostage and ransom it for the knives…
Finley placed the boot knives back in their box, which was just outside Spike's reach. It was like she knew! "You're forgiven."
Mathias let out a sigh of relief and sat. "I had no idea that the situation would become violent. Jacques and his childe were there to sign a treaty. A treaty! And Sharon, she seemed so nice."
Finley just looked at him. "And the random demon?"
Mathias ran a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I have no idea about that one. I'd never seen him before and his species isn't one we have a contract with. But I've alerted the Tribunal. Maybe they can shed some light on the situation."
Spike's face was incredulous. He didn't think she'd been lying about the fights she'd been in last night, but to hear it from someone else somehow made it more real. "Why'd they attack you?"
"Because I was the one in the lobby, I suppose."
"They didn't all show up at the same time, did they?" Spike asked, suddenly worried.
"No. The weird-looking demon, he happened along maybe an hour before the vampires did. The two Masters did come in together, like Mathias said. I'd just finished them when," she turned to her vampire boss, "Sharon, was it? came in. She was upset that he never called her after their passionate night together."
"Hey!" Mathias objected, "She knew that's all it would be. I was very clear."
"Apparently not clear enough." Finley replied archly.
"Why didn't she just go find him?" Spike asked.
"I thing she was going to until she saw me." She rolled her eyes. "Then she changed targets. Started screaming, accusing me of things, calling me worse… you know, making a general nuisance of herself."
Spike gave a curt nod. "Suppose I shouldn't judge. I have, on occasion, killed for a lot less."
"I didn't do anything to her, ignored her, kept doing what I was doing. She wasn't my problem."
"Thought you said somethin' 'bout an industrial hole punch?" He was feeling a little let down thinking that it hadn't really happened.
"Oh, that was after she decided to embrace her inherent stupidity."
Mathias had an 'ah-ha' moment. "I think I see where this is going. She drew first blood, didn't she?"
"Yep."
"So you beat her to death with the hole punch?" Spike clarified.
"Not quite to death. In my defense, she tried to rip my throat out with her teeth."
"Vamp?" He was feeling a lot less sorry for the spurned lover. At least Red would be happy to know that Finley hadn't been bludgeoning a human.
"Yeah. Sadly, she's probably fine now." Her face was the picture of disappointment.
"Startin' to think you've got some horrible luck, pet."
Finley was forced to agree. "She was the last straw. Didn't stick around to see what else Murphy's Law would throw my way."
"Prob'ly would've quit after the first two, m'self." Spike admitted.
"The thought crossed my mind."
Mathias turned to look at Finley. "Tell me, why are you two in here when the party is obviously happening outside?"
"He asked about Friday." She told him.
Mathias was skeptical. "You told him about Friday?"
"Are you trying to pick a fight?" Finley looked like she'd be happy to oblige him if that was the case.
He grinned widely, ignoring the threat to his health, and whirled around to Spike. "I'll bet she left out all the interesting ones!"
"I gave him the ones that weren't completely absurd." It seemed like she had heard him speak about Friday before, and wasn't exactly overjoyed to be hearing it again.
"And those are no fun at all!" he turned his attention back to Spike. "Friday is supposedly beautiful, even more so when she's fighting. Supposedly, if you're honored by the sight of her in action, it'll be the last thing you see. And it's said that her blood is even sweeter than that of a Slayer, the nectar of the gods."
Finley snorted.
Mathias gave her a reproachful look.
"I'm sorry. Please continue." She was completely unapologetic, but Mathias continued nonetheless.
"Now I've lost my place… where was I? Oh! She has a scar above her left breast where someone tried to carve out her heart. Unsuccessfully, of course."
"Of course." Spike agreed.
"Did you tell him about her supposed vampire lineage?" Mathias asked Finley, seeming to have already forgiven her.
"Yeah."
"Champion for the Powers?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Huh. I guess that's it then." He looked rather crestfallen.
"Glad I didn't give up when everyone else did," Spike commented. "Now we have more'n a name."
"So your people asked about this earlier?" Mathias seemed surprised, but turned a glare on an unaffected Finley. "And you refused to help because?"
"You haven't met his Slayer." She maintained. "Please reserve your judgment for such a time as you have."
"She's right, mate. I only ever told her anythin' after she beat it outta' me. An' even then it wasn't the whole story." Spike had to agree with Finley on this one.
"I'll take your word for it." Mathias slid something small across the table to Finley. "Tell your new friends that dinner is on me." She nodded and slipped the black credit card into the back pocket of her jeans.
He left and Spike eyed the box the knives were hidden in. "If I were given prezzies like that in apology, I might have to be mad a little more often."
An evil smirk worked its way across her face.
Spike was shocked. "But you seemed genuinely mad at the bloke."
"I was. Last time, not so much."
Yep. Definitely a devious little mind in that noggin'. "How long's he been apologizin' with gifts?" he reached a hand toward the knives.
She smacked it away and he pouted. "Since I've known him. He says sorry by buying things. His mate demanded it. After a few centuries of it, I guess it's a hard habit to break."
"Demanded?" he could have sworn he heard a past tense.
"Yeah. His mate died a few decades ago, way before my time. He doesn't have anyone left to dote on. Well, there's Viv, but she's rarely without a rich boyfriend to buy her whatever she wants. There's Orville, but he's around even less than Viv. And since his doting annoys me unless it's in the form of weaponry…"
"Viv an' Orville?"
"Childer."
"Ah. So he adopted you, then?"
She shrugged. "In a way, yeah."
Spike eyed her presents one last time. "He lookin' to add to his line?"
Finley grinned. "You could always ask."
"Cooper your last name? I noticed that's what he called you when he came in."
"Yeah. Prefer it, actually."
"If you prefer it, why don't your friends use it?" he asked.
She sighed. "I couldn't convince them otherwise. Honestly, I'd consider it a victory if they stopped shortening it to 'Fin'."
"Cooper it is then." He affirmed.
"Thanks." She looked relieved.
"Spike!" Angel shouted from outside in the yard. "Are you coming or what?"
He made a sour face. "Right away, Mother!" he yelled back. "You gonna' come watch?" he asked her.
"Might as well." She stood to follow him outside. "Should probably study your Slayer's style just in case."
He was forced to wonder what she really thought of Buffy. Finley never referred to her by name, just as 'your Slayer'. It certainly didn't lead him to believe that they'd ever be more than grudging acquaintances. And it didn't look like Finley cared whether or not she was on the Slayer's, and consequentially the Council's, good side. But it did mean that he was likely to get along with her. He smirked as Amalia took a swing at him, more concerned with his thoughts than the task at hand.
He wondered if he could convince Finley to spar with him. Spike was anxious to see her in action. If she could take out Masters, she'd make a great sparring partner. He hit the ground with a thud, Amalia looking down at him, trying to decide whether to apologize or celebrate. Spike heaved himself to his feet, deciding that it might be better for his health if he stopped wondering about how well Finley could fight and focused on the Slayer in front of him.