A/N: Sorry for another delayed chapter! I've been experiencing issues accessing the site for some reason, so idk if this is gonna be like a thing, or if I can maintain a consistent schedule. Only time will tell!
This was stupid. Everything was stupid. Buffy slammed another book shut in anger, the large, billowing dust cloud only furthering her ire. Giles had sent Andrew every single scrap of paper that they had on the Sons of Cain and it amounted to a whole lot of nothing. Sure, she now knew more than she ever wanted to know about how Vincenzo carefully de-limbed his victims, but still useless. As the records went, Vincenzo was now living the good life, not a single detached limb in sight.
All she had read about Luther, up to his sudden disappearance, was not lifting her spirits. He was brutal, to put it shortly. Bloody and brutal. Unlike Vincenzo, or even Rubio for that matter, the way he had recounted his kills for the Council was much shorter. It was arm through the chest and heart come out. Head ripped clean off shoulders. There was nothing precise or practiced about it. No skill, only brute force. Luther had wanted a kill count.
On the upside, suffering was said to be minimal.
She groaned, dropping her head to the table. Years ago, she hated the book work that came with slaying. It was so boring. Page after page of cramped, handwritten logs as authors used the most fanciful language they could find that forced her to actually locate a dictionary so she could find out what 'portentous' meant (just another stupid word for bad).
She had also spent the last several hours (hours she would never get back, mind you) researching the Master of Bellevue. The Council had very little, as no slayer had been in the Seattle area for decades. What few accounts they had come from demon hunters who had come through the area, who had noted the Master as 'unbothersome' and 'aloof,' quite the opposite of the infamous Luther. He was called James though, that much she knew, but she didn't know if he was a Son of Cain, or even a descendant of the bloodline.
Grandfather Kalder had been of what use he could be, although he didn't exactly keep extensive records like the Council did. He had been a young man when the Master had first made his appearance, meeting only once to reach their stalemate and declare one another untouchable. James' and his closest men promised not to harm anyone with relations to the Kalders as long as they did the same. His memory of the vampire was fuzzy, as old age did. "An appearance of sophistication," was all he could recall, reminiscent of Luther, but not exactly a flashing sign.
Growing restless from all the dead ends and lack of anything (ever), Buffy left the study upstairs and headed downstairs. Beth was currently staying the night at Nadja's, after she had profusely promised to not sneak out. Buffy wasn't stupid and knew that Beth hadn't been following hers and Spike's directions, but she hadn't done anything to stop it. If anything, she understood it. Slaying was a part of Beth, just like it was for Buffy. She couldn't very well ask her own daughter to stop being who she was.
But she had double-checked to make sure that Nadja's parents were going to be home and had "accidentally" left a book about Luther open for the girl to see. Hey, maybe she would traumatize the kid, but at least they wouldn't wind up getting killed.
On the ground floor, she heard sounds of grunting, coming from the basement. She opened the door and walked down the stairs to see Spike going at it with a punching bag. She looked at him curiously as he continued to work, unaware of her presence. He had once been a vampire and had already known about the Sons of Cain before Andrew had even gone into his little spiel.
"Spike," she called out, walking over to him.
He grabbed the punching bag to halt it, looking over his shoulder at her. "'Lo, love," he said, smiling. He tried to pull her in for a hug and likely a kiss, but she sidestepped his amorous hold.
"Sweaty," she commented when she saw his confused expression.
"You weren' complainin' bout that last night," he reminded her.
"That was different," she sniffed. "This is gross work-out Spike sweat. Not—"
"Sweet lovemaking sweat?" he finished with a lecherous grin, taking a step closer to her.
She took a step back. "Shower first. And that's not why I came down here."
"Then why did you?" he murmured lowly, running a heated gaze over her. Years of living with him had given her practice in schooling her features, but that didn't stop her heart from picking up its beat. Thankfully he didn't have vampire hearing anymore, or she'd have never have gotten away with it.
"I came down here for business," she told him. "Eventually."
He pouted. Business. She meant slayer business. He hated slayer business. Why couldn't it ever be the bedroom kind of business?
"I went through all the books Giles sent me," she told him and his expression grew serious.
"Yeah?" he asked, forgetting all about the sex (well, not all about it, but enough that he was able to think about other things). "What's it say 'bout the big, bad Luther?"
"Nothing Andrew didn't already tell us," she replied. "He's nothing like James. And I mean at all. Luther was brutal. No wonder Angelus hated him. I can't find anything that connects our vampire to the Son. Besides what that one vampire Beth ran into said, nothing else suggests that he's Luther."
He sighed. "Well, he can't exactly go 'round dismembering anyone anymo'. Got the treaty to think about," he reminded her. "S'not like he could act like himself."
"I know, but then how do I know if he's a copycat?" she questioned, sitting down on a bench beneath the window. "It's a big thing, isn't it, being a Son of Cain? He could be lying for the attention."
"Could be," he agreed, letting out a long breath. "Heard her leavin' last night, ya know. Beth. Were you ever this bad?"
She laughed humorlessly. "What do you think, Spike? I know she's been going out too, but I don't feel like I should stop her. I want her to be safe, but even I know we've got nothing to back up our rules. If it is Luther, he's bound by the treaty and he can't hurt her directly. If it's not Luther and only some vampire claiming to be Luther, then this James isn't a problem to begin with and that vamp was talking big to look big. You said you knew about Luther, from Angelus. What did he tell you?"
He sighed, walking a small trail in front of her. "That he hated him," he finally answered. "A lot."
"Anything useful?" she persisted.
"Can't say so, pet," he told her apologetically. "The Sons were claimed long dead before Darla even sired Angelus. If he knew anything mo', he didn' say it."
He sat down beside her, throwing comforting arm around her shoulder. She fell into him, feeling exhausted. God, was this what her mother had gone through? Geesh, karma really was a bitch. "We'll figure this out," he soothed, rubbing his hand up and down her arm.
"Hm," she replied noncommittally. "Spike?"
"Yes, love?"
"You're still sweaty."
He shot up off the seat, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "Alright, alright, I'll take a shower. Bloody hell woman." He stomped up the stairs and she couldn't help but let out a giggle. He was so sensitive sometimes.
Left alone in the basement, Buffy's worries come up full-frontal again. She would do anything to protect her daughter, but what could she do when she didn't even know if a threat was present? Was Luther possibly willing risk his guarantee to exist just to kill the two slayers inhabiting his town? It didn't seem worth it, not even by a vampire's standards. The Council would send whatever they had at him, to ensure he was never a threat again. And one vampire against a whole squad of slayers? Can you say 'Death Wish?'
She finally left the basement, heading up to sit down in the living room and maybe nap away her problems. Of course though, when she entered the room, she saw the state of disarray it was in and groaned inwardly. Buffy was no clean-freak herself, but Spike didn't even seem to know what a "vacuum" was and Beth just had to go and inherit that quality from him.
She placed the stack of textbooks on the coffee table, before picking up the assortment of jackets and tossing them on the chair beside the couch. She knew Spike would probably whine some about her mistreating his stupid leather jacket, but she didn't care. It was stupid and getting in the way of her laying down. When she picked it up though, something fell out on the pocket and landed with a dull thud on the rug. She looked down to see a little black book.
Oh my god, Buffy thought, eyes going wide. He actually has a little black book.
Picking it up in disbelief (I mean, who kept addresses and numbers on paper anymore?), she flipped through the pages. Most of the writing was faded, as he'd likely been keeping numbers for years (living for hundreds of years did have its pitfalls, as remembering someone's number could get a bit tedious), but a few of the numbers looked newer. She shook her head, figuring she'd have to teach Spike the wonders of saving numbers on his cellphone.
As she placed the address book back in its pocket, an idea occurred to her. A very good idea actually, so much that she hit herself on the forehead for not thinking of it sooner.
She dropped the jacket back down on the couch, nap forgotten. She fished her phone out of her purse, which had been sitting on the dining table, and began to dial.
"Come on," she muttered as the phone rang. "You better pick up."
"Hello?" a tired voice answered.
"Angel?" she asked.
"Oh, hello, Buffy. How are you?" he asked, sounding a bit thrown off. Well, it wasn't exactly every day he got a call from his old ex out of the blue, no warning. If anything, Spike was the one to call and it was usually to complain about something.
"No time for pleasantries," she told him. "I'm calling for business."
"About what?"
"What can you tell me about the Sons of Cain?" she asked.
There was a pause. Normally, one would hear breathing on the other line, signaling that no, the other person hadn't left the phone, but he was a vampire and so it was all up to hoping. He better not of dropped his phone.
"What?" he finally asked. "Why are you asking about them? How did you even hear about them?"
"The Council, who else?" she replied. "Look, I know that you know about them and I want to hear your what you have to say. You know, a vampire's opinion."
"And you couldn't've asked Spike?"
She sighed, rolling her eyes. "I did," she told him, "and all he could tell me was that you hated them."
"Well, yeah," he stated, like it was immensely obvious. "The Aurelians had a long-standing rivalry with them. The Order of Aurelius and the Sons of Cain were always fighting to be the most revered and feared vampire legion out there. The Order never won though, mainly because the Master despised going out with humans. You can't strike much fear in their hearts if you're living like a mole."
"But what can you tell me specifically about them?" she tried.
On the other end of the line, she heard him sigh tiredly. "They died before I was even sired, Buffy. Even when I was human, they were dead. The last known Sons of Cain kicked it back at the turn of the century. The only people left are descendants of the family, but they're not better than any common vampire now."
"Is that all you know?"
"Darla knew them better," he admitted. "She was sired during the height of their reign. I think she was even smitten with one of them. Probably the middle Son."
"Luther," she stated.
"Yeah, Luther," he agreed, sounding surprised. He'd probably thought she'd called him up because she didn't want to read about them herself. "She hated them pretty fiercely too, because the Master did, but even I had to admit Luther was someone to admire. At least when I was soulless."
"Spike said you hated him in particular," she remembered.
"I did," he confirmed. "But I also admired him because he was who I wanted to overcome. Even after his death, he and his two other brothers were still remembered by the vampire community. I wanted the Scourge of Europe to overshadow any mark they had left on the earth.
"I never did though, because I was cursed with my soul," he explained. "The Whirlwind had a few good decades whereas the Sons of Cain had a good century."
"Do you know how old they were?" she inquired.
"Old," he answered shortly and she pouted. "I know that's not what you wanted to hear, but that's all I know. The Master knew about the oldest Son and his sire, though. So old. Really old."
She tried not to be too disappointed. Really. After all, Angel couldn't know everything. But still. He was supposed to drop some little off-handed comment on her, one that would pull all the pieces together and they could get rid of all this uncertainty.
"It doesn't matter now though," he finished. "They're long dead."
"No, they're really not," she breathed.
"What?" he asked. "What do you mean?"
"The Sons of Cain never died, Angel," she told him. "They only went into hiding."
Another long pause. "What?"
"I said they never died," she repeated. "The Watcher's Council signed a treaty with them, promising them the Council would never send a slayer to kill them as long as they didn't kill people anymore. The Sons accepted and now one's in Rome and the other's somewhere in Brazil, drinking mojitos or something, I don't know. Andrew wasn't very clear on that."
"What?" Ooh. He actually sounded angry. And broke. He was stuck on repeat. "You mean to tell me that they're all still alive?"
She looked heavenward. How many times was she going to have to repeat herself? "Yes," she emphasized. "They never died, only wanted people to think they were so they could preserve their bloodline."
Again, a pause. "I guess that makes sense," he finally agreed, though he still sounded somewhat frustrated. She knew how he felt. She hated being left out of the loop too. "They always did hold the continuation of their line in high esteem—higher than their reputation, that is. Is that why you're asking all these questions? Did you just find out too?"
"I did," she told him, "but for very specific reasons. Angel, some time back in the 1800s, Luther disappeared. His sire couldn't feel him so they all assumed some demon hunter had gotten the hit on him. But there's a vampire here, a big one, and we're being led to think that Luther never died."
"You think the vampire is Luther?" Angel clarified.
"I don't know," she admitted. "The records of him—James—are very different than those of Luther, but vampires are claiming he's a Son of Cain."
"He could be doing it for the name," he suggested.
"I know," she sighed. "It's why I've been going over the information we have so furiously. I need to know if Luther is James or if it's just a copycat looking for fame."
"If his sire can't feel him, Luther probably did die, and this James is a copycat," he said.
"And if it isn't?"
"Then you need to be careful, Buffy," he warned. "Angelus, h—he was bad, as bad as a vampire can get. But Luther is older, much, much older and he wasn't nearly as forgiving as I could be."
"Don't worry, if things get bad, I'll just send him to hell too," she joked. "It might soften him up a bit."
He only hummed his amusement. "This may be bad advice, but I think if you really want to know about Luther. You're going to have to ask someone who was close to him."
"Alright, thanks. Bye, Angel."
"Bye, Buffy."
She hung up the phone and sighed to herself. Why was her life always so complicated? And why did it involve so many vampires she couldn't kill?
"S'matter love?" Spike asked, having magically appeared in the living room (how did he moved so quietly? Damn ex-predator).
"Nothing," she replied immediately. "Well, nothing more than what's already a matter. I just got off the phone with Angel."
"Why you talkin' to that ponce?" he asked, sitting down in the chair. He motioned for her to come over and she did so, sitting in his lap so he could hold her. She began playing with his hair, knowing he liked that. Because he definitely wasn't going to like what she was going to say next.
"He gave me an idea though," she murmured.
"S'zat?" he asked, his voice getting all soft and slurry. This was good. Soften him up for what she was going to say next. He was putty in her hands (cue evil laugh).
"Oh, just a trip I have to take," she started, not anticipating the rest.
-.-
Beth sat on her parents' bed, watching as her mom threw clothes into her suitcase, only for her father to come and pull them right back out.
"You are not going," he insisted angrily as he grabbed her bathroom bag.
Buffy huffed, taking it back from him and stowing it away again. "Yes, I am," she stated firmly, giving him her no-nonsense face (one Beth saw quite frequently when she was a little girl). She stalked off into her closet again and her father groaned, throwing his hands up over his face.
"Your mum is off her bird," he muttered.
"Of course she is," Beth agreed. He dropped his hands enough to peek at his daughter through his fingers, likely caught off-guard by her sudden agreement. She hadn't said anything about it earlier when her mother first made the announcement. "She'd have to be to have married you."
His hands dropped completely and he scowled at her. "'Nough out of you," he directed with a pointed finger. "Innit past your bed time?"
"It's Friday and no," she reminded him sweetly.
Buffy came back into the bedroom, carrying a dress bag. She dropped it onto the bed before throwing what Spike had taken out of her suitcase back into the suitcase.
"You can' be serious, love," he persisted.
"I am serious," she affirmed. "Look at me packing my bag seriously. I'm serious." She sighed, turning to face her pouting husband (he really looked young when he did that; it was weird). "Look," she sighed, "I already have the plane ticket and Giles is setting up everything right now. There are a few things I need to do at the academy anyway. I'll be back before Spring Break is over, promise. We can go to the beach?"
The prospect of the beach did not lighten Spike's mood. After the conversation with Angel, Buffy had ultimately decided the best thing she could do right now—in light of no one knowing where to findJames themselves—was talk to someone who knew Luther best and had spent centuries with him: his brothers. Spike was obviously upset over such an idea, considering the rap sheet they had that could wrap around the planet six times over. Buffy going into that? Inconceivable! Even with Andrew confirming that both brothers were very good at staying in the parameters of the treaty (no loopholes or anything!), he still wasn't convinced it was safe. At least it wasn't Beth going, huh? He'd burn down SEATAC.
"At least let me come with you," he tried, going for the puppy-dog look again.
It was a no-go. Buffy even laughed. "First of all," she started. "Very funny. You know he wouldn't like you. The Sons are very aware of the Whirlwind and even if you are human, your presence would not go over well. It's unlikely he'd even agree to see us if he knows you're going to be there. And second, who would watch Beth?"
"Uh, Beth?" she suggested, though no one heard her.
"Why can't you just call him?" he grumbled.
"He wants a meeting face-to-face," Buffy explained. "He's old fashion like that."
"Which one are you going to see?" Beth inquired, curious. She wished she could have gone, but she knew even suggesting it would be met with a resounding "NO!" from all parties—including Giles—involved.
"Vincenzo," she mother answered. "He seemed the…nicest."
Wrong use of the word "nice," Beth thought, but made sense, she supposed. "But Rubio, he's got that Latin Fire in his blood," she joked, earning her a reproving growl from her father.
"Giles said Vincenzo would be the most accommodating. And he'd have the most information, being Luther's sire and all," her mother explained.
"He's got a harem, doesn't he?" Beth asked, mainly just to see her father scowl even more.
"He does and I am not going to be swayed by him," Buffy told Spike, throwing him a withering look.
"Bet you said that 'bout Dracula," he muttered and Buffy looked ready to throw him across the room.
"You met Dracula?" Beth gasped, eyes wide. "Oh, I want to meet Dracula!" That, too, was met with a resounding "No!" nearly making her go deaf. She pouted, sitting back down on the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. Couldn't meet Dracula or Vincenzo or anyone cool (she was still booking on Nosferatu hanging around here somewhere…).
"Giles will be with me, everything will be fine," Buffy assured with a wave of her hand. She looked down at the watch on her wrist. "What time's my flight?"
"In a little over two and a half hours," Beth replied, looking at the ticket on the bedside table.
"Oh good, we have enough time to get me a coffee," she chirped, finishing up her packing. "Here." She handed the suitcase to Spike, who was still scowling.
"How about I put that in the car?" Beth suggested, prying the suitcase out of her father's grip. With him in charge of getting it to its destination, who knew where it'd end up?
"Good idea," her mother agreed. She turned to her husband, taking his hands. "Stop fighting me on this," she told him. "I'm going, Also, you never win so it's pointless."
He looked like he wanted to argue, but Beth caught his eye and nodded in agreement. It was true; Spike never did win, not even when he thought he did.
"Alright," he muttered, looking put out. "Get in the car." He stalked past them and down the hallway, probably to find his keys.
"You know he's going to be moody until you're back," Beth told her. "I have to put up with that. For almost a week."
Buffy sighed. Everyone was on her today. "I'll buy you something when I get back," she promised tiredly. "Now, can we get on the road? I really need that coffee."
She skipped out of the room, going to put the suitcase in the car.
"Why're you so happy?" Spike asked when she came outside.
"Why are you so upset?" she returned as she stowed her mom's suitcase in the trunk. She was actually really proud of her mom for packing so light (in comparison to other travels; this suitcase was still heavy and big). "You know, Vincenzo's pretty low on my 'Vampires of Concern' list. He sounds like he might be pretentious, but I can deal with that. The Slayer Academy was full of them. And just think! We can have a daddy-daughter bonding time! We used to do those all the time when Mum went on trips."
Spike made an attempt to smile at his daughter's more easy-going attitude, but he was still concerned about his wife going to Rome. And why shouldn't he be? The Sons of Cain were nothing to sneeze at, even if they were under a treaty. Serial killer in prison, wasn't that what she had called him once? At least his chip did keep him from harming anyone. If Vincenzo violated the treaty, well, the Council wasn't as fast as a zap to the head.
At the airport, he gave his wife a long hug (forgoing the kiss because he didn't need his daughter ruining the moment by making retching noises in the background).
"Be safe," he murmured into her hair.
"When am I not safe?" she joked, pulling back with a smile. She cupped his face, trying to soothe him. "Everything is going to be alright. I've lived this long, haven't I? I'm like the slayer equivalent to him in age. He can't take me down."
She pulled away from her husband to pull her daughter into a tight hug. "Ooh, I'm going to miss you," Buffy told her.
"It's only a few days," Beth replied, but hugged her mom back anyway.
"Try not to have too much fun while I'm gone," she said, and in a lower tone, "and don't let your dad smoke. I know he's got a pack stashed somewhere, I just don't know where."
"Under the driver's seat of the Desoto," Beth told her. "And I'll take care of it."
"The car seat! Of course!"
"Oi, you two better not be schemin'," he warned, his eyes looking back and forth between the two.
"Never!" Buffy said, sounding offended. She waved goodbye, getting into line for security.
Spike sighed, watching her go.
"Come on," Beth told him, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the doors. "They've got this movie at the theatre. Vampires."
"Really?" he asked, trying to sound disinterested, but she knew her father enough to know he didn't miss out on an opportunity to badger films for their inaccuracies.
"Yeah, supposed to be really good according to the critics," she said.
He snorted. "Right. I'll be the judge of that."
She grinned as her father walked out the of the airport without her having to drag him along. Good. Even for a slayer, he could be heavy sometimes.