Trust
by Rob Sorenson
Chapter Thirty-five
“God has a job for us to do. Maybe our mission is to save the soul of America. We can't save the soul of this nation throwing bricks. We can't save the soul of this nation getting our ammunitions and going out shooting physical weapons. We must know that we have something much more powerful. Just take up the ammunition of love.” – Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
“When you come to the fork in the road, take it.” – Yogi Berra
“I missed these people.” – Patti Thompson, 4/23/2005
*********************************************************************
Major Riley Finn walked along the last line of defense between the world and a truly immortal race of demons – and this time they really mean it, he thought rather sourly - feeling increasingly discouraged with every step. It wasn’t the troops that brought on his gloomy mood, necessarily; under the circumstances, morale was remarkably high.
No. It was the nature of his business with them at that particular moment.
Still, as usual, Riley did his duty. Once finished, he took a long, appraising look at the field of engagement. The troops – professionals on one end, civilians on the other – were fanned out in pairs, just a few yards apart. The purpose of this was to cover as much of the eastern entrance of the Staples Center as possible. From a tactical perspective, things were better than they had been a few hours ago…but not much. There were still a vast amount of exposed entrances, and only one vampire wearing a piece of the Gem of Amara needed to sire someone to begin the process that would end of human life as they knew it.
But no pressure.
Riley moved back to his established spot next to Sam. They hadn’t made a conscious decision to take a position in between the trained soldiers and the Fang Gang Plus Two…but somehow it seemed right. They were the bridge.
“Anything?” He asked his wife.
“Negative.”
He turned to face the parking lot, placing the edge of his hand against his forehead to block out the slowly setting sun. After a moment, he directed his attention to the civilians.
“Anybody getting a visual over here?”
There was no response. Riley walked a few yards to his left.
“Angel, your vision’s a little sharper-“
“I don’t see anything.” The vampire interrupted quickly.
Riley quirked an eyebrow. “Might be easier if you actually looked.”
“Back off!” Cordy stepped up between them. “He already answered your question!”
Riley backed up a step, holding up a defensive hand. “All right. Understood.” After a moment, he turned to rejoin his wife. “Sensitive.”
Sam glanced over Riley’s shoulder. “Of course she is.”
“Right. Of course.” He fell silent. Sam chuckled to herself.
“You’re so damned clueless sometimes, Finn.”
“About-“
“Why don’t you check with…the other former hostile?”
“Spike.” Riley sighed.
“Yeah. Him.” Sam nodded upward slightly in the general direction of the parking garage. The massive structure sat on a slight incline, roughly fifty yards from where they were standing. “You gave him a comm link on the high ground for a reason, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sam activated her headset, giving her husband’s a meaningful look. Riley sighed, then put the device to his ears and lips.
“Spike, you with us?”
His voice came through clearly. “Yeah.”
“Any sign of activity?”
“I’d say so if there was, wouldn’t I?”
Yet again, this drew a sigh. “Could you restrict your answers to yes or no, please?”
“No.”
Riley shot an annoyed look toward the garage. “Out.” He flicked the mouthpiece away from his chin. “Ass.”
Sam chuckled. “God, I missed you.”
Riley folded his arms. “That guy lives for being difficult.”
“I’m getting that vibe.”
“Like a spoiled child.”
Sam nodded gravely. “Thank God you’re above that sort of behavior.”
Riley gave her a withering look. “Don’t you start.”
She shrugged. “You’re the one who told all of us the vampires are to be trusted. Wouldn’t hurt to practice what you preach.”
“Trust, yes. Like…not so much. Anyway, I’m being perfectly civil.”
“To the point of condescension. Sir.” She bumped her shoulder against him with a grin.
Riley lowered his voice. “Don’t touch me. It’s been a long week, and I’m sort of wired.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And?”
He kept his eyes straight ahead. “Might just decide to have my way with you right here.”
“I do believe that’s against regulations.”
“And? We’re in charge here…mostly.” He added, glancing toward the civilians.
Sam couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “We’re about to engage in a major battle.”
“I’d make it quick.”
“Color me shocked.”
Riley’s eyes widened in fury. “Spike, do you not know the meaning of the word ‘out’!?”
“You know the meaning of the words ‘sod off’? I barely know how to work this contraption.”
“How about I come up there and show you!?”
“Ooh, face-saving command voice in front of his woman. Riley Finn’s Greatest Hits, Volume Bloody One.”
Riley tore off his headset and turned toward the garage, but Sam’s hand on his forearm stilled him.
“Stand down, Major. You can prove your manhood later.”
“I’m fine.” Riley responded with forced calm. “He’ll need to know the basics of the radio if he’s to be of any use, right?”
“We can hear him. What else matters?”
“He could turn it off without even realizing it.”
After a moment, she removed her hand. “Fair point. Make it fast.”
Riley nodded, then gave his wife a wink. “I missed you too.”
“’Bout time you got to that.”
A few yards away, Cordy placed a hand on Angel’s arm. “Are you ok?”
The vampire sighed harshly. “I’m perfectly-“
“Losing it?”
“Not now, please?”
“You’re in the sun. I sense freakage.”
“There’s no…look, it’s not like I’ve gone centuries since seeing the sun. Remember when-“
“Oh God!” Cordy interrupted again, touching his face. “You’re going to fry!”
Angel scowled. “Was that supposed to be comforting?”
“I don’t mean…you know, in the ash-ey way! I’m talking blisters and…potential melanoma! Your skin isn’t conditioned to be exposed like this!”
He tried to move his head away from her fingers. “It’ll heal fast.”
“How do you know?! Seems to me the fundamental rules don’t apply here!” She paused a moment. “I have Bullfrog in my purse.”
Angel blinked. “You’re carrying spell ingredients?”
Cordy said nothing for a moment. “Are you screwing with me?”
Angel puffed out his cheeks in frustration. “Why does everything have to be a riddle?”
“I’m TRYING TO…” Cordy took a breath, then spoke slowly. “It’s a kind of skin protection. God, has it been that long since you’ve been to the store?”
“Yeah, the Wal-Mart cosmetics section is always my first stop.”
He grunted with annoyance as she began liberally applying the creamy substance to his face.
“As if I would ever set foot in a Wal-Mart. They didn’t have sunblock back in your human days?”
“Sure. They called it the pub.”
Cordelia turned toward the parking garage. “I’m running out. I might have some more in-“
Angel grabbed her arm. “Don’t go.”
She huffed, struggling against him. “Would you get a grip?“
“I sort of am.” He managed a weak grin, lifting his eyes to meet hers. “Please?”
Cordelia hesitated. “All right, but you’re at least accepting UV protection.” She slipped her sunglasses off. “Here.”
Angel blinked. “What? No, I’ll be-“
“You need them more than me. Look, you can’t fight if you’re all jumpy like this.” She proffered them, tilting her head in that way she had when all argument was futile.
Still, he looked at them doubtfully. “They’re sort of…well….“
“Oh, now you care about fashion? Of all times…yes, Angel, they’re designed for women. The lenses work the same.”
After another moment’s hesitation, he slipped them on, unintentionally releasing a sigh of relief.
Cordelia folded her arms. “Well? Better?”
“Actually…yes.” Angel said with mild surprise. “Thank you.”
“Toldja.”
He managed a small grin. “How do I look in pink frames?”
“Like a man wearing two-hundred dollar Versaces. Which means you break ‘em, you bought ‘em. On Rodeo, I might add.”
“God, anywhere but there. I can’t stand rich people.”
Cordelia folded her arms. “I was raised by rich people!”
“Thank God we got to you in time.”
Unbeknownst to them, Wesley was watching from his position on the left flank. When he spoke, his voice betrayed a tone of mild amusement.
“It appears the current storm has abated. I do hope we never reach that level; all that arguing and making up must become exhausting.” He thought a moment. “On the other hand, I’ve been told making up is the best part. What do you think?”
When there was no response, Wes turned. “Dawn?”
Dawn blinked in surprise. “Hmm?”
“Everything all right?”
“Oh. Sure.”
“Are you certain? You seem…distracted.”
“Just concentrating.”
“Ah, yes. Battle readiness.” Wes nodded gravely, staring at the horizon. “Focusing on anything in particular?”
Dawn slid her eyes toward him. “You mean other than the potentially un-killable parade of whores?”
“Right. I’ll leave you to it, then.”
She frowned. “I didn’t mean to sound-”
“Quite all right. I was operating under the assumption that you’d be practicing the family tradition of incessant patter during life-threatening situations.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t think there’s any set plan…” Dawn stopped. “‘Incessant patter’?”
“Indeed.”
There was a momentary hesitation.
“Ok, fair enough.” She leaned over to kiss him, but Wes pulled out of her reach.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or continue these amateurish efforts at distraction?”
“Which would you prefer?”
“Truthfully? More of the latter.” He raised his forefinger as Dawn began leaning in again. “However, concern overrides my base desires.”
Dawn shook her head. “It’s not a concern-worthy thing. Really. Just…” She trailed off. “This is going to sound stupid.”
“No problem. I’m prepared for that.”
“Wesley…”
“No, really. It was part of my Council training to maintain stoic reserve under all circumstances.”
Dawn scowled at him, but his face remained impassive. Finally she cracked a smile.
“Ok, I give, already. Like I said, it’s nothing wrong, exactly. I’ve just been standing here thinking about…you promise not to laugh?”
“Yes.”
She gave him one last suspicious glance, then sighed. “Destiny.”
Wesley tilted his head. “Why would I laugh about that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it sounds…pretentious? Is that the right word?”
“I’m afraid I’m not following.”
Dawn shrugged slightly. “It’s no secret that I spent a long time wondering about my purpose. If I’m not a Key, what am I? It’s not as if I had an actual life-“
“Nonsense. You’re as real as-“
She held up a hand to stop him. “I know. Not looking for validation here. Just making the point that I spent a couple of years looking for…a place. Does that make sense?”
“More than you know.”
Dawn gave him a questioning look. Wes offered a half-shrug.
“I imagine all of us are forced to realize at some point the world isn’t quite as simple as we’re led to believe. Once I experienced the state of the real world, I quickly realized how unprepared I truly was.” Wesley took Dawn’s hand. “So yes, I think I may understand the need to fit in.”
Dawn gave his hand a little squeeze, then looked out over the horizon. “I’ve pretty much made peace with the title of Buffy’s Little Sister. I helped translate a text here and there. Found out I had a certain talent for fighting…after busting my ass for a year. Could I ever be as strong or important as a Slayer? No…but that was ok, you know? It was enough.”
Wes took that in. “And now it isn’t?”
“I don’t mean it that way. I’m just starting to think…Buffy told me she had a dream that told her everything that’s happened was leading up to this. Everything had its purpose.” She smiled slightly. “Did I ever tell you the story about getting grounded?”
Wes blinked at the apparent change of subject. “Which one?”
Dawn gave his hand a less-friendly squeeze.
“Right. Please continue.”
She grinned, relieving the pressure as she spoke. “It seems so long ago, I almost forgot. The summer after Buffy was…away, Willow and Tara lived in our house. Dad was…well, wherever he was, so…” The grin began to fade. “Xander and Anya would come over every day, too. We’d play cards and board games and stuff. They were all trying so hard…” Dawn trailed off, sniffling slightly. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
“I tried to be brave and all, like Buffy asked, but for a while I was just pissed. At everything and everybody. I said some pretty rude stuff, which they took amazingly well under the circumstances. It was unfair, of course, ‘cause they were hurting so bad too, but…”
“I’m sure they understood.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I told the gang I was going to Janice’s one night to study for an exam.”
“And you actually did what?”
“No, that part was true. There was a little studying. I just sort of left out the part about Janice scoring tix to Offspring at the Hollywood Bowl.”
Wes frowned. “Wait. I’m missing something.”
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them, ‘cause that’ll just feed the age difference paranoia-“
“I’ve been told I’m somewhat fly for a white guy, actually.”
Dawn smiled.
“I’ll rephrase: you said Buffy’s…absence took place over the summer. For what reason would you be studying?”
Dawn sobered quickly. “I spent quality spring learning time dodging Hell-goddesses in a Winnebago.”
“Glory owned a motor home?”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Don’t go all Grammar Nazi. You know what I meant.”
“Summer school.”
Dawn nodded her assent. “I was able to attend classes without Buffy making a personal appearance. Willow wrote a script for the Buffy Bot to read over the phone…which is actually a funny story-“
“We were discussing Offspring?”
Her eyes widened.. “We were? Jeez, I hadn’t thought that far down the road. Isn’t it a little early at this stage of our relationship-“
Wesley sighed. “Dawn…”
She giggled, making his annoyance melt away. “Right. So anyway, Xander called Janice’s mom about picking me up in the morning for my classes and…well, you can see where this is going. I got nabbed.”
Wes smiled; Dawn’s TV Land addiction had never completely abated. “Indeed.”
“So…the next night there’s a big living room meeting, and Willow announces I can’t leave the house for two weeks, except for school.”
Wes smiled. “I imagine that didn’t go over well?”
Dawn looked at the ground. “I went ballistic. Said some stuff…terrible stuff.”
“You can’t think it still matters.”
“Does to me.”
Wesley moved closer then, putting his arm around her. “Dawn, do you really think you’re the only girl of high school age to rebel? Harsh words are exchanged between families-“
“But they weren’t. That’s the point. My family – as far as the monk-y memories go, at least – was gone. No one else was obligated to give me the time of day, much less get screamed at.”
Wes decided not to argue the point. “They stood firm, I take it.”
“More than that. Tara added a week.” Dawn chuckled. “That’s when I really knew I’d stepped in it. No easy trick pissing her off.”
“I wish I’d met her.”
“Me too.” Dawn cleared her throat. “They were – correction, are – my family.” She looked at Wesley. “Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“Can’t say I do.”
“Buffy, Willow and Xander are about to be parents.” Dawn shook her head. “So weird when you say it out loud. Anyhow, they’ve already had experience at the job.”
Wes blinked. “So you believe your circumstances served a greater purpose than you’d been previously led to believe?”
“If that means I was the warm-up act for the big show, yes.” Dawn looked at Wesley nervously. “That IS what you meant?”
He gave Dawn an affectionate glance. “Very possibly.”
“Well then…good. I like the way you said it better.” She gave Wes a quick kiss, then glanced over his shoulder. “Riley’s headed this way. Looks annoyed.”
“Perhap’s we’re to be chastised for the public display of affection.”
Riley didn’t even bother to acknowledge them, brushing quickly past.
“Or not.”
“I think he’s headed toward the parking garage.”
“Ah.” Wesley gave Dawn one more peck on the lips, then resumed his position facing the parking lot. “No affection there, one would assume.”
“Not unless Riley and Spike’s mutual loathing is just a cover for manly passion.”
Wes closed his eyes. “You DO realize I’m possibly dying soon?”
Dawn smacked him on the arm. “Don’t even say that!”
“You’re the one who inserted the mental image. What if that’s to be my last thought in this-”
“Kamasutra,” Dawn interrupted, smiling slowly.
There was a long beat of silence.
“Right, then. Well done.”
“I’m efficient that way.”
************************************
“Ok. Fuck.” Faith said conversationally, staring open-mouthed as the neck of the pure demon who had served as her mentor/father figure stretched further and further.
“Faiiith.” Wilkens responded, causing the Slayer to jump slightly. “How many times must I repeat myself? You won’t attract the right kind of boys with that sort of language.”
His voice had a metallic hollowness to it, almost as if it was a digital creation, surrounding her thoughts…yet it was still undeniably Wilkens. At first, Faith was unable to find enough moisture in her throat to respond.
“I guess you missed it, being blowed up and all. Got me a boy already.”
“Mmm…a debatable point, as it appears he’s left you here to die. Of course-”
Faith tuned him out, her mind racing. Ok, dude still loves to hear himself talk. Christ, why didn’t I ever find the time to do a little more post-coma catching up? How the hell did they beat this thing? And where the hell is B, anyway?
“-we’ve yet to make a move in anger.” Wilkens continued. “My offer still stands. Even Buffy couldn’t defeat me on her own…and we both know how the little confrontation between the two of you ended. Surely a girl of your instincts can see how this is going to-“
Faith took two running steps and delivered a spinning kick into the side of the demon’s knee (or at least she hoped it was).
“The offer is still rejected…and don’t call me Shirley.”
The volume of the demon’s roar was, in itself, enough to cause Faith to stagger back to her original position; Wilkens massive legs, however, hadn’t moved an inch.
“I’ve never been struck by a Slayer before.” He made a rumbling sound that Faith decided to interpret as his signature giggle. “It tickled.”
Faith cocked her head to the side. “Guess someone’s been takin’ his own advice about drinking milk.”
She moved forward again, but this time Wilkens turned his back. For a moment Faith exulted, thinking she’d hurt him with her first kick more than he’d let on…but that thought ran away as her peripheral vision detected the massive wall of flesh sweeping toward her.
“Shit!” She cried, throwing herself on the ground as the demon’s tail whistled over, missing her body by inches. Faith rolled to her feet and backed off, putting more distance between herself and her enemy.
“Actually, I’ve learned to eliminate dairy.” Wilkens rumbled again. “My tastes have changed. For example…”
His head thrust forward like lightning, jaws spread wide.
************************************
Spike rolled his eyes as Riley approached. “Here to court-martial me, then?”
“Shut up.” Riley responded, brushing past him.
“Ooh. Good one.” Spike retorted, frowning in confusion as Riley opened the door to Gunn’s truck and leaned in. “What’s the game? Pin the Ford on the vampire?”
Riley turned around. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Aren’t you here to scold me? Have it out once and for all? Might not get another chance, you know.”
It was Riley’s turn to roll his eyes. “You mean this is goodbye? However will I manage?” He turned back toward the interior of the truck, reaching behind the seat.
“So…what’re you doing up here, then?”
“Making sure you’re doing your job. Which, by the way, you aren’t if you’re facing me. Also, I forgot something.” Riley responded, his head not visible as he searched.
“Really? Seems like a criminal lack of organization. Oughta be demerits for that, yeah?”
Riley said nothing, emerging with a large sword in one hand and something too small for Spike to recognize in the other. The vampire leaned forward.
“What’s that, then?”
Riley smirked. “It’s a sword. Man, you really are a lousy lookout.”
Spike glared. “Other hand.”
“Oh. Nothing.”
Spike raised his eyebrows. “Classified, is it? Now you’ve gone and got me curious.”
Riley’s cheeks puffed out as he sighed. “It’s not classified. I’ve just had my fill of sparring with you for one lifetime. Ok?”
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“Fair enough.” Spike finally said, turning around. “I’ll just get back to staring at nothing, then.”
“Thank you.”
After satisfying himself that nothing was afoot as of yet, the vampire reached into the pocket of his duster for a smoke. Once lit, he closed his eyes and took a deep drag. Buffy detested cigarettes, so he rarely lit up unless things became especially stressful.
To his way of thinking, this situation surely qualified.
“They’re good kids.” Riley said, surprising Spike; he hadn’t even heard the soldier approaching. The vampire followed Riley’s gaze; the Special Force unit stood in a well-organized line, sharpening weapons and maintaining a watchful eye with the unconscious efficiency shared by all well-trained soldiers.
“Looks that way.” Spike finally answered, unsure of how to respond.
Riley chuckled to himself. “Kids. Sometimes I forget that I only have a couple of years on them. Seems like a lot more.” He glanced sideways. “Guess you might not identify with that so much, being immortal and all.”
“Might surprise you.”
“How so?”
“Feels like I’ve had this soul for a few lifetimes already. Killin’ people? That was a blur. All about how one chooses to spend the days.”
Riley nodded toward Spike’s Marlboro. “Got a spare?”
“When did this start?” Spike said in surprise as he dug into his pocket.
“Mozambique. I’d just lost half my unit.”
Neither spoke for a minute, choosing to smoke in silence.
“What sort of demon was it?”
Riley blinked. “I’m sorry?”
“In Africa.”
“Oh.” After a moment, Riley shrugged. “Can’t even remember.”
“Probably better that way.”
“Mmm.” Riley nodded toward his troops. “I just passed capsules full of cyanide to each of them. Watched them wash it down with a crisp ‘yes sir’.”
Spike’s eye widened. “How the hell-“
“The capsules are specifically designed to withstand the human digestive system.”
“All right.” Spike said slowly. “Then…obviously there must be-“
“Each capsule has a tiny electronic sensor designed for the specific user. There’s two ways to activate it.” Riley ripped open one of his Velcro pockets and pulled out a small round device. “First, our own individual thumbprints are programmed so that this button can release the poison. If, for whatever reason, we can’t get to it, there’s a voice-activation system built in. Each of us has our own personal code word.”
“Voice-activ…the capsule can hear you?”
Riley slipped the “Doomsday Button” - as the soldiers called it – back into place. “Pretty much.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“It’s-“
Spike held up a hand. “Don’t say it. Classified..”
“I was going to say the technology is way over my head, but…ok, now that you say it, classified sounds cooler.”
Spike lit a second cigarette with the remnants of the first. “Right then, you all have pretty little suicide machines. Is a regular bloke allowed to ask why?”
Riley gave him a look. “You really need me to answer that?”
He didn’t, of course. Spike knew that full well. They’d all just learned of the Gem Of Amara’s most frightening characteristic: any human sired by a vampire bearing it would inherit immortality…in the truest sense. He or she literally could not die in this dimension, by any means – natural, supernatural, didn’t matter.
Such a thing couldn’t be allowed to happen.
“You just had these lying around?”
“We run into situations like this now and again.”
“Like Mozambique.”
“Among others.” Riley took a drag. “Anyway, I realized a couple of minutes ago I’d spent so much time making sure the troops had taken theirs-“
“You forgot your own.”
Riley nodded, then dug the capsule out of another pocket. “So…here goes.” He popped the pill into his mouth and began attempting to dry-swallow.
“No canteen?”
Riley nodded toward his wife.
“Uh-huh. Well, then…” Spike reached inside his duster. “Got me a secret compartment of my own.” He produced a flask and proffered it. Riley frowned, hesitating.
“No need to stand on ceremony. I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”
After a moment, Riley gave a little half-shrug and took the silver container. After unscrewing the top and taking a couple of swallows, Riley blinked a few times before nodding.
“Decent stuff.” He handed the silver container back.
“Yeah.” Spike agreed, taking his own swig before slipping it back into his jacket pocket. “Better than the swill we shared before.”
“Umm…refresh my memory?”
“Coupla years back. You forgot?”
“Probably blocked it out. Your feelings hurt?”
“Not so much.”
They lapsed into silence again for a moment.
“Sun’s going down soon.” Riley offered.
Spike nodded in agreement. “’Bout forty-five minutes.”
“That precise?”
“Trust me.”
“So are they pointless?”
Spike pondered for a moment. “The Gems? Well…whatever happens, it’ll be over in half an hour or so, I’d wager. Still plenty of daylight for Dru’s dramatic entrance.”
“I meant the cyanide capsules.”
“How so?”
Riley shrugged. “Who’s to say Drusilla didn’t sire all those prostitutes while wearing the Gem? What would stop her?”
Spike didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Nope. Be against the rules.”
“Say again?”
“The game is no fun if all the players aren’t aware of what’s at stake.”
“And that’s all this is? A game?”
Spike spoke quietly. “All it’s ever been to most vampires. Angelus, now, he was a special case. On a different level altogether, that bloke. Dru fed on that kind of fanaticism; the excitement just kept on comin’.” He fell silent, taking a pull from the flask.
“I’m not sure that answers my question.”
“Yeah, well, keep your camouflage on. Here’s the thing: most vamps are solitary creatures.”
“Really? Seems like we’ve cleared a lot of nests over the years.”
“Oh, we’ll run in the occasional gang, but never permanently. Not as a rule. The great majority of us walk alone, ‘cause we can’t get along. Angel, Darla, Dru ‘n me…we were no different, but Darla held us together. She envisioned us as family, which Dru fancied terribly; she’s not what you’d call a traditional vampire.” Spike shrugged. “Once that vision changed, she was never completely happy.”
“So…are you saying this whole mess is a result of a psychopath who wants to return to the status quo?”
“Nah. She knows better ‘n that. Plus, she’s not the psycho in charge here. Just a willing instrument. Dru was convenient ‘cause Lilah knows Angel’s history. Wanted to twist his knickers, I suspect.” Spike took one last drag, then flicked his cigarette away. “All Dru wants is to play with us one last time. Doesn’t matter so much who wins.” He gestured toward the parking lot. “And here we are. Christ, she must be ecstatic.”
“Ok. Assuming you’re right, I don’t see Lilah having any scruples about the siring of super vampires before now.”
Spike shook his head. “Dru would’ve insisted…and Lilah needed her.”
Riley finished his own smoke and began to look around the garage.
“What’re you lookin’ for?”
“Cigarette’s finished.”
“So toss it.”
Riley shook his head.
“We’re fightin’ to save the bloody world. Allow yourself a liberty now and again. Be good for you.” Spike nodded to his left. “Tell you what, make sport out of it. Try to hit mine.”
Riley moved toward the corner and picked up Spike’s discarded butts. “This is dangerous. We’ve had a dry spring.”
“How the hell would you know? You weren’t even in this bloody hemisphere.” Spike held up a hand before Riley could respond. “Stop. You’ll make me gag if you go into the classified bit again.”
“I was going to say the Internet, but if you promise to actually gag-“
“You watch weather reports for other parts of the world? You’re yankin’ my chain, right?”
Riley shrugged as he toted the cigarette remnants to a nearby ashtray. “I work nights. What else is there, soap operas?”
Spike opened his mouth to respond, but decided against it. Riley finished his clean up duty and headed for the exit.
“I’m going back down. We’ll get a Gem for you as soon as possible. Oh…before I forget...” He tossed Spike a small object, which the vampire quickly identified as his cell phone. “When you spot the enemy, dial star four four. That’ll send the signal through to Sam and me.”
Spike frowned in confusion. “I’ve already got-“
“I disengaged your comm unit and programmed my number on your speed dial.”
“Why the hell-“
Riley turned to face Spike one last time with a grin. “Two reasons. One, you obviously don’t know how to use the radio properly since you butt in on private conversations. Two, you look stupid in that headset. Consider it a favor. You have a voicemail, by the way.” Riley turned back around and moved away.
“Bloody hell…” Spike raised his voice. “Yeah, like YOU don’t look like a poncet in this thing!!”
Riley merely waved, not bothering to turn back. Spike ripped off his headset and threw it away.
“It’s in the same corner where the cigs were! How you like me now, Smokey Bear!?”
This time Riley indicated nothing.
“Wanker.” Spike muttered, checking the screen of his mobile phone to see who’d called.
************************************
Buffy Summers thought her head was going to explode.
Faith was continuing to dodge and weave, producing nothing resembling an offense as Mayor MacPython continued his assault. Clearly, reinforcements were badly needed…but that wasn’t to be.
Not that Buffy hadn’t tried, of course; she’d endeavored to throw herself into the fray a couple of times. Unfortunately, some sort of magical force field had activated, throwing her in the opposite direction. After a rather pointless fourth attempt – she never had taken rejection well – Buffy grudgingly resigned herself to her current role of ringside spectator.
It would be a dramatic understatement to say this wasn’t a fun-filled activity.
It had been a scant few minutes ago when Buffy had been in the process of asking Willow about the potential meanings of “revisit the past” for a third time…when the world disappeared. It was a strange – though surprisingly familiar – sensation. Once she’d reacquired her bearings in the middle of the stadium’s infield - seemed like quite the fuss over a hundred yards, she thought in retrospect - it occurred to her how similar the sensation had been after diving off that tower all those years ago. Disorientation, chaos…followed by complete and utter peace, all within the space of a second.
“The nice parts lasted longer the first time around, though.” Buffy mused to herself. She tore her gaze away from Faith’s latest evasive maneuver to glance toward Willow’s position at the opposite end of the stadium…or at least where it should have been. There was nothing in that direction now but inky blackness; it was as if that part of the field had been swallowed up.
“Not literally, we hope.” Buffy said, again addressing no one in particular.
She decided this was just as well; it would be even more difficult to watch Willow in the throes of battle than Faith. At least she knew what Faith was capable of; the same power flowed through her veins. There was no frame of reference for the power of her best friend.
Plus…it was Willow. A small part of Buffy would always think of her as the shy, pig-tailed little genius who’d been so kind to her in the earliest days of Sunnydale High. Willow had come such a long way…but she was still Willow. The bestest friend anyone could ask for. Willow and…
“Xander,” Buffy said softly. Tears touched her eyes when she thought of him. The last trace of his emotional presence within her was gone now, obliterated completely when he’d given his share of their child’s essence to Faith. Buffy couldn’t begin to understand what he must be feeling…but she hoped he’d listened to Faith when she asked him to go back to the hotel.
It was their turn now.
************************************
“Spike? I was hoping you’d pick up…but I’ll take it as a sign that you’re busy with Dawn. I’m going to believe she’s ok…’cause I have to. Anyway, I wasn’t calling for…”
Spike smiled at his cell-phone as Buffy sighed audibly.
“You’d think I’d be better at voicemails than in person, right? Yet here I am, totally screwing it up. Maybe sneaking down here to the basement to call you was a bad idea. But…here I am, so…Willow and I are about to make Xander breakfast. She claims to know what his favorites are, but it so happens she’s totally missed out. See, while some of us were on long-term vacation in England, some others were cooking Xander’s breakfast every weekend as payment for running Dawn and me around town all the time. So I have the edge here. Which has absolutely nothing to do with why I called you in the first place, dammit!”
There was a thudding noise.
“Sorry. Sometimes my head clears when I hit the punching bag. Ok, here’s the thing. I’m a seriously screwed-up person. Sometimes I wonder who exactly you fell in love with…’cause I don’t love me very much right now. I’m supposed to be grown-up and in control. The Slayer has to understand and identify priorities, and make decisions. Stay cool. All that good stuff. But…I never do that. The moment things get really bad, I lash out. I haven’t changed at all…and if I haven’t by now, maybe I never will. I’ll always do the stupidest things when I’m scared…and I’ve never been more scared than now.
So let me make this clear…while I still can. If everyone doesn’t make it through this…”
Spike tilted his head as he heard Buffy clear her throat.
“If anything happens to…our baby, I’m going to need you. So much. And if everyone makes it, and the baby is fine, I’m going to need you even more. The fighting is the easy part. Always has been. Beyond that, I have absolutely no clue. You always find a way to make things easier, Spike. Always. I love you so…crap, I think the battery’s runn-“
“End of message.“
Spike smiled softly. “Buffy.” He whispered reverently as he pressed the “end” button. “Love you-“
His voice trailed off as he looked into the distance.
He blinked hard, then looked again.
“Bugger me.”
Spike quickly dialed the number Riley had programmed. The soldier responded before the first ring was completed.
“Spike, you have a visual?”
“Yeah.”
“What strength?”
“Too damned much.”
************************************
As far as Buffy was concerned, she’d waited long enough. Hell, she’d waited long enough ten minutes ago.
“Are we forgetting someone!? Is there a fight in my future?!”
Buffy looked to the ground.
“Should I be yelling in this direction!? Who does a girl have to call to get some action around here??”
Silence. Buffy huffed, making a guttural noise of frustration. “Is there a supervisor of some kind I can speak to?!! What’s taking so long?!”
“Actually,” a familiar voice said from behind her, “the time frame of our encounter is well within parameters.”
Buffy closed her eyes. “Oh, no. Please.” She turned around to face Adam. “You have GOT to be kidding me.”
“Kidding.” Adam responded, a faraway look in his human eye as he processed the information. “Right. Humor, yes? I’m afraid Mother didn’t program me to be proficient in that particular area of human interaction.”
“Yeah, well, she wasn’t exactly a laugh riot, so…” Buffy chose to try the sky this time. “Come on, already! You people KNOW I have a more interesting past than this!!” She spread her hands. “How about the Master? Or…or…Mr. Trick, maybe? At least he could carry on a conversation!”
“Conversation. Yes. Your ritual of trading witticisms before the commencement of hostilities. I always found that…interesting.”
“The bug who wanted to have Xander’s baby. Or, or…ooh! What about that creepy jello pit in the school basement that put everyone into a trance?” Buffy scowled. “What was that thing called?”
“Buffy Summers, I plan to…violently propel your bottom into the next week.”
“Bezoar! Bring on that funky slime omelette!” When there was no response, Buffy looked to the sky. “I’ll tie my hands behind my back. Come on, work with me here!”
Adam hesitated a moment. “Forgive me; was that your retort?”
Buffy closed her eyes. “Just…stop. Ok?”
“You choose to forego-“
“I don’t think either of us can top the imagery of you…propelling my butt. Consider it foregone.” She assumed her classic fighting stance and motioned for Adam to come toward her. “Let’s get this over with.”
“You would be wise to avoid taking this lightly.”
Buffy offered a nearly imperceptible shrug. “As a friend of mine would say…”
She took two quick steps forward and popped a left jab against the human side of Adam’s mutated face. His head snapped back slightly as the Slayer danced away as quickly as she’d arrived.
“…I’ve already kicked that ass.”
Adam actually smiled, his misshapen teeth gleaming under the stadium lights. “It seems you’ve forgotten what was required to defeat me previously. Perhaps a self-diagnostic-”
Buffy held up a hand. “I’m willing to give you a free shot if you stop trying to be funny.”
************************************
Drusilla gazed in wonderment at the late afternoon sky.
“Such pretty things. Clouds of cream for the royal court’s tea.”
She’d chosen to observe this special occasion by wearing a light blue evening gown, though such colors weren’t her normal preference. This day was special, however. On this day, she was no longer an ordinary creature of the darkness.
On this day, Drusilla would finally be home again. She felt it with every fiber of her being.
In the distance, she surveyed the line of defense. “Toy soldiers, marching in step. Muskets at the ready.” After a moment, her voice lowered. “Behold, Angelus awaits…but my Spike is a bad little rabbit. We must release the hounds.”
She raised her hands toward the sky and spun in jubilation, sending her gown billowing in the breeze as she shouted.
“The feast is served, little ones! Mummy’s been working so hard to prepare…and now the time of celebration may begin!”
She faced her flock. “Make haste, then…before it cools!”
The magnificent assembly of strumpets and urchins snarled as one before surging past her.
Drusilla clapped her hands enthusiastically.
************************************
“Ok. I can do this.”
Xander couldn’t decide which emotion was in charge of his voice at the moment. On the one hand, he was royally pissed off; he’d stepped on to elevators like this a million times, for a million different projects. In fact, he’d be willing to bet that no one on the planet had walked more construction girders than he had over the last couple of years.
On the other, there was his old buddy fear. Xander Harris knew that particular feeling better than he’d have liked; seemed like he’d been frightened out of his mind at least once a week for ten years.
The only thing, in fact, that he was sure of was this: neither emotion was going to do his loved ones any good.
“C’mon, Harris. Suck it up. You could be too late before-“
His self-help speech was interrupted by an unearthly sound from within the stadium. He shivered involuntarily.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say I know that roar.”
The unwanted memories flashed past:
“First wave!”
Snyder decapitated.
“Xander, take them down!”
Larry catapaulting to his death as slings and arrows cut through the air.
It had been horrible. Every terrifying second of it.
It was also the proudest night of his life. Xander Harris was truly the Riker to Buffy’s Picard, if only briefly. Damn if he hadn’t actually mattered.
Xander shouldered his sniper rifle, stepped into the construction elevator and pressed the green arrow that pointed upward, willing himself to breathe normally as the ground slowly receded.
- End Chapter Thirty-five -
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