Mortal Allies Series

Episode 5

War and Roses

By: Passion4Spike

Chapter 33: Hawley Manor, Part 1

Chapter Notes:

You guys, I'm so sorry. Life just keeps happening and time gets away from me and I'm super late again. I didn't want to be A WHOLE DAY late, so I divided up this chapter (IT'S EXTREMELY LONG) so that I could post something on time. (The story boards take a long time to do for long chapters. I probably should just stop doing them, but I really like doing them, and I hope you guys like them too?)

Anyway, this chapter is very short (because this was the best place to divide it), but there is still another chapter to come on Sunday. (And possibly an epilogue after that)

All the love to MissLuci for betaing. All mistakes are mine cos I keep fiddling.

-X-

Buffy fidgeted inside the front door of Hawley Manor, nervously polishing the brass doorknob with the sleeve of her shirt.

"Pet," Spike said soothingly, running a hand down her back. "Doesn't matter what they think... it's us who needs t' love it, yeah?"

She gave him a tentative smile. "I know, I just... is it dumb that I want my mom and... sort of father-figure-who-tried-to-kill-me to be proud of what we've done? We all worked so hard on it..."

She looked around at the foyer, formal living room, and dining room of Hawley Manor. She focused on the living room, which wasn't furnished yet. They'd talked about it, and really didn't see any need for a formal living room, so, as a group, Spike, Buffy, and the Scoobies decided it would be a great place for research parties. They'd installed a whole wall of floor-to-ceiling bookcases with a built-in desk where their new computer now waited for something computery to do. It wasn't like they could keep using Sunnydale High's library space forever—they would all be graduating this year.

The rich wood floors of the room had been stripped, sanded, and refinished, just like in the rest of the house, and they shone warm and welcoming in the light from the soft brass sconces on the creamy, plaster walls. Buffy envisioned some cozy chairs in the corners where she could nap comfortably while pretending to research, and a sturdy table in the middle that matched the bookcases where the actual research could happen. Had Xander said they were cherry? Or maybe mahogany... oak? Something very woody, she was sure.

With that plan in mind, she turned her attention to the dining room. It was off to the right of the front door as you came in, and was furnished with the original Mission-style oak table, chairs, and sideboard, which Xander had miraculously brought back to life. The walls were a soothing forest green and there was a timeless, floral Persian rug beneath the table, which echoed the green, and complimented it with cream, terra cotta, and navy blue. Hanging above the table were two tiffany-style lamps that Xander had found in the attic. They cast warm shades of amber, bisque, and earthy green over the entire room. It was a welcoming, friendly room that Buffy could imagine one day serving Thanksgiving dinner in, with all her friends and family gathered around.

Wow... where had that come from? Dreams of the future had been squashed for so long, she didn't know she could even do it anymore. And yet, standing here with Spike, in this house that already felt like home, she could see a future... a long, happy future even. With him and her best furry friend at her side, maybe she really could find out if Slayers got heart disease from too much cheese and red meat.

"They're here," Spike announced, pulling her from her thoughts.

She blinked, turning back to the door and peering out of the sidelight window to see her friends—Furry-Spike, Xander, Willow, and Oz—escorting Joyce and Giles up the front walk. The yard was still a mess, but the weeds had been mown and the Birmingham brick walkway had been leveled and cleaned, making the walk from the street to the front porch much less anxiety-inducing.

Buffy swung the door open just as they started up the steps.

"Hey!" Xander objected. "I didn't get to show them the doorbell!"

"Just how d'ya show someone a chime, lack brain?" Spike wondered.

But Buffy just rolled her eyes, pressed Spike back, and closed the door in Xander's face.

The doorbell rang from down the hall, a soothing eight-tone melody produced from a vintage, long-tube chime that reminded Buffy a bit of church. She waited for the last note to fade before she opened the door again.

"Spike! Look who's here!" she called, totally overacting the surprised reaction.

"The dunce with a kink for church bells?" Spike guessed.

"Ha. Ha," Xander deadpanned, pushing the button again and starting the melody all over. "I had to rewire that whole thing to get them working again—the rats had chewed all the wires..."

"Okay!" Buffy held up her hand to stop him. "No more talk about rats."

"Well, I think it sounds lovely," Joyce defended, reaching out to push the button one more time, drawing an eye roll from Spike and a pleased grin from Xander.

"Could'a saved a bundle by just putting in a new sodding bell and been done, but reckon if your mum likes it, it's worth putting up with the git's overblown opinion of his lackluster skill," Spike whispered to Buffy as she stepped back to invite everyone in.

She elbowed him in the ribs, making him chuckle as Joyce and Giles filed in, followed by the others. While Giles had been in the house before, Joyce had not, and the place had changed a lot since his visit with Lydia. They both looked suitably impressed, with Joyce making approving 'Oooing' sounds when she stuck her head into the dining room.

Meanwhile, Giles was looking at the blank slate of the living room. "What did you have in mind for this room?"

Buffy cleared her throat, pushing the door closed, as she joined him in the empty room. "I... I mean, we, were thinking that it might make a good library slash research room."

"Oh, yes?" he asked carefully, an expression of worried annoyance flashing over his features before he turned away and walked further into the empty room.

Buffy caught the look. "It's not that we're leaving you or anything."

"No-no, of course not," Giles agreed, not meeting her eyes.

"Still with the major needing of Giles, Watcher mine."

"Former Watcher," he reminded her.

Buffy ignored that and kept talking. "W-we just thought, well, you know we'll be graduating in June, and pretty sure Principal Snyder isn't gonna love us hanging around there after that. I mean, let's face it, he's not loving me hanging around there now, and I actually have a legit reason to be there, being part of the student body and all. A-and your apartment is great, but it's kinda small. I thought all those books might, you know, make it into a bit of a dangerous hoarder situation, with just narrow paths between the stacks of dusty parchment."

"Also," Willow interjected. "We have a nifty protection spell threshold thing here, so no chance of a bunch of demons waltzing in and murdering us all in our sleep. Not that we sleep when we're researching!" she added hastily at Giles' raised brows.

"Well, it's certainly something to consider," he agreed as he turned toward the foyer.

Buffy caught his arm and turned him back. "Seriously, Giles. They can send a hundred new Watchers, but none of them can replace you."

"Even if they don't poison you and your dog?" He tried to make it sound light, but didn't quite succeed.

Buffy gave him a reassuring smile. "Especially then. I mean, how can you trust someone who hasn't tried to kill you at least once?"

Giles chuckled, his expression softening, the father's love for a child shining in his eyes. "Indeed."

"It's all settled then." Buffy gave him a rib-cracking hug, which Giles didn't even complain about.

After rejoining the group in the foyer, they all headed down the short hallway which led to a large, open area with the kitchen on the right, divided from the family room on the left by a breakfast bar. The kitchen was a mix of old and new appliances, with anything that had been in working order staying, despite the dated colors. The cabinets were real wood—oak, according to Xander—Mission style, like the dining room, and still in good condition. The Formica on the countertops still needed to be replaced, but Spike wanted to save up to get marble instead, so the scratched and faded avocado green remained. The vinyl flooring hadn't been changed yet either, saving up for a quality tile. Spike thought the harvest gold and avocado diamonds covering the floor would likely outlast the whole bloody house—tough as nails that shite was—but Buffy was 'not subjecting her eyes to that travesty for the rest of her life'.

Buffy was explaining all this to Joyce as the rest of the gang headed into the cozy family room. There were two seating areas, both furnished with the softest, oversized leather sofas and chairs Spike could find in Sunnydale. Each area was set off with a huge Persian rug in the sea of warm, polished wood floors.

One area was focused on the fireplace—a perfect place to snuggle with his favorite Slayer on chilly winter nights. The other centered around the entertainment center, which held the biggest telly he could buy, and a bloody brilliant stereo system. There were French doors leading out onto a covered, screened porch on one side of the room, and a hexagonal sunroom on the other, which was done up in brighter, frilly colors, and filled with wicker rockers and live plants—peace lilies and ferns and philodendrons.

All across the fireplace mantle were framed photos of the gang as they'd worked on the house. Buffy and Willow laughing hysterically, trying to put up wallpaper, only to have it roll right back down the wall and swamp them. Xander looking cross and annoyed as he held up a copper penny and a blown fuse, ready to admonish Spike about the dangers of house fires. Oz and Willow, sitting in a corner, leaning against each other, passed out with exhaustion. The Guardian with a dead rat hanging out of his mouth, looking proudly pleased with his efforts to keep the manor rodent-free. Spike and Buffy indulging in a little post-painting snog, both splattered with green paint, head to toe, from getting in a Jackson Pollock painting contest. Xander and Oz, heads bent together, trying to figure out how to start the lawnmower Xander had borrowed. Spike looking smug, with Xander and Oz in the background looking annoyed after he pointed out there was a switch they had to flip t' get it to crank, and if they'd read the bloody instructions printed on the sodding thing, they would've known that fifteen minutes ago and his lawn wouldn't still look like something outta 'Apocalypse Now'.

Joyce seemed enthralled with everything, even the utility room and the full-size washer and dryer located just off the kitchen was a source of envy. "You have no idea how difficult it is to get the laundry up and down those basement steps!"

Giles, on the other hand, seemed uninterested in the appliances, instead using the time to test out one of the leather recliners fairly thoroughly.

"The garage is out there," Buffy waved a hand at the door at the back of the kitchen. "Super handy for bringing in groceries when it's raining... or sunny," she explained. "And the stairs are over here." She gestured toward the sunroom. "They're kind of in a weird place. I think I like our stairs better," she told her mom. "Much more with the convenience, and so much better for stomping up when you're mad. This way you have to, like, walk across two rooms and then no one can really see you make with the dramatic exit."

"Very poor design choice," Joyce agreed dryly.

On the second floor, the stairs opened onto a small landing with a hallway straight ahead leading to Xander's suite over the garage. He did the honors of showing off his little home-away-from-home, which included a decent sized bedroom, plenty of closet space, a full bath, a window seat looking out over the front of the house, and a small sitting area at the back which opened onto the second story veranda.

"See, I can come in from here," he explained, opening the door onto the covered deck. "I put in stairs from the ground up to the porch, and... voila! Private entrance. Spike'll never know I'm here."

"Spike can sodding smell your stale fruit rollups and fried cheese bread when you get within fifty feet o' the place," Spike pointed out, though he had to admit that the git had made a pretty sweet little nest for himself, shabby, sagging mattress and scarred second-hand furniture notwithstanding. What? Spike hadn't agreed t' buy the numskull furniture, now had he?

Leaving Xander's room, heading back down the hall, they passed one of the spare bedrooms—as yet undecorated and unfurnished. The second spare bedroom had the door closed, and Buffy purposely bypassed it, leading everyone into the master suite.

It was just as rich and inviting as the rest of the house, done up in deep burgundy with shimmering gold highlights in the comforter and pillows. The bed spanned two time zones, with four sturdy posters out of dark mahogany, matching the floor. More thick Persian rugs adorned the wood floor, a fireplace dominated one wall, and another oversized television was the focus on the other. There was a hexagonal sitting area, like down below, but instead of any furniture, this one was filled with enough pillows to drown in, all in sparkling jewel tones.

Buffy caught her mom looking at all the pillows and cleared her throat. "We, uh, weren't quite sure what to do with it, thus the throwing of pillows. Spike already had them from the Aladdin-themed makeover he gave the training room for National Hot Chocolate Day. There are these pretty curtains too and fairy lights, but we need to put up something in the ceiling to hang them from."

"Not something I would've ever thought of," Joyce said. "But it looks oddly exotic and inviting."

"It's great for pillow fights," Buffy offered, blushing.

"I probably don't want to know about that," Joyce demurred, following the others into the enormous master bath, with its whirlpool tub, shower, double sinks, separate WC, and massive walk-in closet at the back.

"You all have done an incredible job on this place," Joyce gushed as they filtered back toward the stairs.

"Oh! There's more!" Buffy announced, hurrying to the front of the group. She turned and looked around, finally finding who she was looking for. "Spike... c'mere, boy."

From the back of the crowd, the dog looked at the vampire. "Since I'm not a sodding boy, I reckon she means you," he said, waving a hand in invitation.

The dog huffed, but serpentined his way through the people up to his hooman, looking at her expectantly as she stood in front of the closed door of the last room.

Buffy was beaming her happiest smile down at him. "This is all yours... your very own room," she declared, pushing the door open with a flourish.

The dog made a questioning sound. 'My own room?' He looked inside to find an extra-super-sized-giant doggie bed—much bigger than the one back home, one he could stretch out on, and it was super soft, too. There was even enough floor space left over to lay out on it when he got too hot on the bed. There was a toy chest full of balls and ropes and rawhide chews and femur bones—or maybe those weren't actually femur bones.

There was a big rubber mat with his water and food bowls on it, all filled and ready for him to devour. The walls were creamy white with doggie pawprints meandering across them, and poster-sized photos hung up, each one of him with one of his frens. His bestest Slayer-fren, his White Rabbit fren, the Floppy Boi, the Strawberry Girl, the No-Bite-Wolf, and his Mom-fren.

Buffy took a porcelain sign and hung it up on the outside of the door. It said, 'A BIG ASS dog lives here'. Beneath it, she placed another sign, 'Welcome. Hope you like dog hair.'

"Do you like it?" the Slayer asked as Spike looked around, sniffing everything... someone had even thought to put scents on the posters, scents of all his frens.

"So that's why you wanted my sweaty t-shirt?" Oz whispered to Spike at the back of the group. "I thought it was a kinky vampire thing."

The vampire smirked. "Hung 'em up behind the photos, give it a homey feel."

"Nothing says 'home' like B.O," Oz agreed.

"WHOOF!" Spike pronounced, his tail wagging wildly, his brown eyes sparkling with delight. "Whoof-woof!"

Buffy dropped to her knees and hugged him tight. "Yay! I'm so glad you like it! I love you so much."

Giles sidled up to Spike as everyone else gathered in to check out the doggie abode. "I admit I was skeptical... a vampire owning a home. I honestly could only imagine coffins and skulls and a few candles scattered about."

Spike arched a brow at the older man.

Giles cleared his throat. "That is to say... this is quite posh. I'm certain that Buffy will find it quite comfortable, which I assume was your goal, but I must remind you..."

"Slayer won't be movin' in right off. Gonna see her with her diploma in hand first. Not completely daft. Know that's important... and it'll give Joyce a bit of time t' get used to the idea. Not sure she thought I could pull it off, either, if I'm honest."

The Watcher nodded and looked back at the group in the dog's room. Buffy was going through the toys in the box, showing him a ball that claimed to be 'indestructible'. The Guardian appeared to be taking that as a personal challenge. "I don't believe Spike has realized that by having his own room, he won't be sleeping with Buffy when she's here."

Spike snorted. "Yeah, well, got an agreement—him and me—I get some alone time with the Slayer now and again, and when he finds a sassy little mammoth he's all ga-ga over, I won't interfere with his romance."

Giles chuckled and shook his head. "You, my dear man, never cease to amaze me."

The vampire grinned, hooking his thumbs over his belt. "Glad you've finally got the proper measure of me, Watcher—sodding amazing."

"And so modest, as well."

Spike grinned. "Modesty is for saps," he asserted, his eyes meeting Buffy's through the small crowd of her friends.

Giles watched the vampire's expression soften, his gaze become reverent, his head canted to the side ever so slowly, his whole demeanor changing from cocky to worshipful. He looked between the two blondes, noting Buffy's glow, her smile, the sparkle in her eyes. When she mouthed, 'I love you,' across the room, Spike practically melted, his entire focus on her as he mouthed it back.

Giles rolled his eyes. "And clearly there's not a sappy bone in your body," the former Watcher muttered dryly, before moving away to join the others.

Despite their close proximity, the besotted vampire didn't seem to hear a word.

-X-

Chapter End Notes:

OKAY, so don't forget to come back Sunday for more goings on at Hawley Manor! Sorry this was so short, but better short than sorry... or, um... better something than total lateness?