Chapter Six ~ Watcher, Watcher Go Away
Watcher, Watcher Go Away
I stared down at the crumbled body that lay at my feet and silently
groaned. I should've figured that any time spent with the slayer would
be filled with danger and life-threatening situations. Wasn't it that way
ten years ago?
And here I was dreaming about shagging the bint...
"-Get some rope and tie him up?" Buffy said, stepping into my view.
"What's that, love?" I asked as I shook my head in a vain attempt to clear
Unfortunately, I was too late-my cock was already swelling.
"-I've got some rope in the other room. We can tie him and stick him in
the back room so he doesn't bother us when he wakes up," she said, her
hand on the doorknob, still staring down at the body. At least she
hadn't taken notice to my present state of being. Ever try willing your
cock down? It's impossible, let me tell you.
"Damn, all I wanted was one day without any hassles," she mumbled to
herself as she closed the bedroom door behind her, leaving me alone
with the intruder.
"Just one day, you stupid pillock," I growled at the unconscious man.
Of course, he said nothing.
Sighing, I walked back to my clothes and grabbed my jeans. It wasn't
until I had them up over my hips and had to carefully pull the zipper
over my straining hard-on that a whole new set of curses directed at the
mortal fly through my mind. "Bloody asshole...I might have finally
gotten in her bleeding' pants if you hadn't decided to show up. Well,
you and that pillock, Ben."
After tugging off the tee-shirt and slipping on my over shirt, I sat down
on the bed and groaned at the thought of that other Immortal. Who the
hell was he? And, more importantly, who was he to Buffy to not only
have a key, but for her to have his underclothes? "Isn't there a law or
something?" I whispered as I pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
Groaning, I rubbed my hand across my face and was startled to note that
somewhere during the scuffle, I had slipped into my true face and it
hadn't gone back.
My stomach tightened, and it was then I realized that when Ben had
knocked the mortal out, he had caused the chap to bleed.
"Bloody wonderful," I whispered, falling back onto the bed. "Starving
with all this blood and nothing to eat. I hate you, Peaches."
The bedroom door swung open as Buffy walked in, arms laden with
ropes. She knelt down beside the mortal and pulled the unconscious
man into a sitting position. Quickly, she secured the man and hoisted
the body up over her shoulder and disappeared out of the room.
A minute later, she returned and stopped when she spotted the blood
staining her carpet. "Damn," she whispered and turned around to look
over at me. Her eyebrow shot up and suddenly her eyes twinkled in
realization. "You're hungry, aren't you?"
"What gave you that idea, pet?" I asked through my fangs.
She shrugged as she gave me a small smug smile. "Just lucky, I guess,"
she said as she sauntered over to the bed and fell down beside me.
Rolling over onto her stomach, she propped herself up by her arms and
looked down at me, still grinning. "So, how hungry are you?"
I didn't even bother with a verbal response; instead, I just arched my
eyebrow at her as I blew out a lung full of smoke.
She batted her eyes at me as she turned around and sat up. "As much
as I would love to offer you my neck right now, I can't. Not with Ben in
the other room." She sighed dramatically as she pushed herself off the
bed and went over to her dresser, yanking drawers open and pulling out
pieces of clothing. "Sooo instead, I'll bleed a vein for you...after I get
dressed. Is that okay?" She asked, turning around with an armload of
clothing hugged tightly to her chest.
Frowning, I studied her eyes for any deception and found myself
shocked at the seriousness I saw there, despite the smile she was
wearing. "You're serious?"
She rolled her eyes at me and shifted her weight to her other leg. "Well,
duh. It's not going to kill me, and, from I what I hear, I pack a wallop, so
it might hold you for a while." She suddenly paused as she tilted her
head to the side as she opened her mouth and just as quickly, snapped
Her head dropped as she watched her toe lightly trace circles on the
carpeting. "It's stupid. I'm almost embarassed to ask, but it would kinda
fill in some blanks-answer some questions that I never got to ask."
"Shoot. Go ahead, ask away," I told her as watched her face turn about a
dozen different shades of red.
"So, is it true? About my blood? Is it that...tasty? I mean, you did get a
taste last night and you didn't say anything. And well, the last a vamp
did that, I nearly died *again* for the thousandth time and he was riding
a high that, well I kinda wondered what the hell he'd been eating before
me. I finally found him two days later and staked him right off. But, I
never asked him, ya know? And then there was that time that I forced
Angel to drink from me and well, he was supervamp for about a day-"
"Buffy?" I called out to her, interrupting a ramble that could put Willow
under the table.
"-and then he left, and well you...what, Spike?"
Although I understood her nervousness, it still tickled me to no end.
Blood or even the talk of blood was nearly the equivalent to foreplay for a
vampire, and she knew that. Even if her and Peaches avoided that
subject like the black plague, the Slayer wasn't stupid-especially if
Angel responded as joyfully to her as I had a feeling he did. Soul or not,
her blood could burn the most callous of us all-and if it happened to be
someone who was in love with her as well. Let's just say happies were
had by both parties-even if it did put her in the hospital for a couple of
Unable to prevent the grin that I knew was curling my lips, I quickly
swung my legs around and hopped off the bed. After taking those two
additional steps that placed me right in front of her, I slipped my finger
under her chin and pushed it gently upwards, forcing her to look at me.
Once our eyes met, I bent my head and kissed her softly on the lips.
"Exquisite, love. Exquisite."
Her eyes widened as the implications of what I said sunk in, and just
when I didn't think she could blush any deeper, she did. It took every
bit of restraint I had not to sweep her in my arms once the sweet, musky
scent of her arousal filled my senses. Instead, I bent my head down to
her mouth and ran my tongue across her lips. Sighing softly, her mouth
opened and we kissed-tongues engaged in an ageless dance, as we
both conveyed our desires to one another-with a promise that more
would soon come.
When I felt something soft fall on my feet, I regretfully broke the kiss
and stepped back. Looking down, I saw the clothes that she had been
holding and grinned at her-noting with a bit of smugness, that my kiss
had left her dazed. I knelt down, quickly gathered her things and stood
up-handing them back to her.
She took them back and suddenly shook her head as if the action would
somehow clear her thoughts. "Well," she whispered as she gave me a
half-smile. "That was fun. Damn! I want more," she said, her voice
taking on a child-like quality. "But," she sighed. "Duty calls once
again...so, it'll work?"
"What?" I asked, inwardly kicking myself when I realized I too, was
feeling a bit off. *There goes the last bit of my reputation-the dashing
lady-killer knocked on his ass by a bloody kiss,* I thought to myself.
"The blood-my blood. In a few minutes. In a glass."
"Oh, yeah," I said, smiling despite my embarrassment. *Damn, if a kiss
does that to me...* I forced myself to stop those thoughts before I ended
up whacking off in the bathroom. "It'll work love," I told her, forcing my
voice to remain steady.
"Oh, yeah," I said, smiling despite my embarassment. *Damn, if a kiss
does that to me...* I forced myself to stop those thoughts before I ended
up whacking off in the bathroom. "It'll work love," I told her, forcing my
voice to remain steady.
"Cool!" she said, barely able to hide her own glee as she bounced out of
the room into the bathroom.
"Cool, she says," I muttered, picturing a thousand different ways I would
have preferred acquiring her blood instead of her bleeding into a glass
for me. Just the thought of finally drinking from her was enough to
almost make me come in my pants. It had been so long since I had
drunk from a human for anything other than just plain hunger. Matter-
of-fact, Willow had been the last person I fed from that I even knew as
more than a passing acquaintance. And like the slayer now, Willow had
offered her blood willingly, but I had been nearly dying from an
especially vicious fight with a Chaos Demon on the Hellmouth.
In a panic, Willow had sliced her arm and waved it in front of my nearly
unconscious face. My demon had latched onto her arm and held her for
bloody life. It had taken Xander, Giles and Anya to pull her out of my
I still have nightmares about killing her.
It isn't too surprising that I never fed from anyone I cared about since.
"Bloody fool," I whispered to myself as I reached the bedroom door.
"Brood-boy junior strikes again," I said, shaking my head at myself. I
had only been awake for an hour and already I was wondering what the
hell I was doing in Paris, chasing after her. She had a life...people she
cared about...people that weren't me. Bloody hell, one of those said
people was standing in the kitchen right now, and I was wearing his
fucking boxers. Did I really belong here...chasing after a half-realized
dream of a broken vampire?
As I walked down the hallway to the kitchen, I took a deep, unneeded
breath and readied myself to face the owner of the boxers.
Have I mentioned how detrimental being horny always has been to my
mental state of being?
I hate uncomfortable silences. I always have. When I was still the 'Big
Bad,' I used to fill in those long, painful pauses with equally long
painful, bloody threats or deeds.
It occurred to me as I felt Ben's eyes studying me, that I missed those
times. What the hell was I saying? I've always missed those times. But
it's like missing loving Dru. I remembered how I felt about her. I
remembered the passion, the love...the devotion, but I don't feel those
things anymore. At least not about her. That was how I feel about the
'Big Bad.' During the day, sometimes, I'd dream about the killing and
the chaos that had followed, and even then, it doesn't feel right. It just
Satan below, I hated Peaches. You know, this was all his fault. Yeah,
yeah, I know that if I wanted to get technical about it, my whole bloody
unlife was his fault. But that wasn't what I was talking about. It was the
last thirteen years I was bitching about. From the moment I set foot in
Sunnyhell that first time to me going to Paris in search of the slayer like
some lovelorn sick, Nancy-Boy. That was his fault.
I would've never been in this position if it hadn't been for him. Between
the blood-oath, him kicking me out of his bed for two mortals, to being
chipless but still unable to kill...to falling in love with the slayer. It was
all his fault. Bloody hell, it was his fault I lost Dru to begin with!
I felt myself tense up and pushed back the chair in a rush of anger.
Ignoring the curious stares of the Immortal, I began to pace restlessly all
the while slipping into another deep brood. Thinking about Peaches
always seemed to get me-in my gut and my heart like nothing else
could. When we finally reconciled after nearly a hundred years of
abandonment and anger on my side, guilt and fear on his side, it was
really good, for a while. But unfortunately I wasn't what he needed. The
slayer was. Just as his demon yearned for his favorite childe, his soul
craved the touch and love of humans. And since Buffy was dead, he
turned to the only other mortals that had seen him at his worse,
supported him-laughed with him and loved him as one of their own:
Wesley and Cordelia. I should've seen it coming, but I didn't. I was too
wrapped in how good it felt to finally be with my sire after all those years
to acknowledge the sadness I occasionally saw in his eyes when he
thought I wasn't looking.
I would like to say I was duped. Fooled into letting my defenses down-
opening my heart to the one being I had spent most of my unlife trying
to please, but I couldn't do it. I could barely be mad. He wasn't
Angelus. He was Angel, the souled vampire-a strange mixture of both
demon and soul-not the vampire that had ruined my mortal life and
brought me across over 200 years before.
See what I mean about silences?
I stopped my pacing and closed my eyes, taking a deep, unneeded
breath as I tried to rein in my emotions. Thinking about Peaches wasn't
helping my mood any and it sure as hell didn't answer my questions
about the Immortal or the unconscious intruder laid out in the other
room. Growling softly, I strode over to my seat and fell into it, ready to
find out more about this Immortal-this Benjamin Adams that had
managed to insinuate himself into my slayer's life.
As my eyes took in his appearance, I realized that any other time, I
would've found him intriguing. He was good-looking. More striking
than anything. Patrician nose-lips that seemed to easily slip into a
sardonic smirk-not unlike my own.
And then our eyes met.
That's when it me.
Up until that moment, I had thought of him as more of nuisance than
anything else. Someone that had an in into the slayer's life that I
didn't...a life that I hadn't been privy to for the past decade. He was an
obstacle-a bother-someone to swat at, much like one would do to an
irritating fly that had taken to buzzing around your face. But as our
eyes met, for one fleeting second, I saw something that I'd never seen in
a human's face before-a strange mixture of evil, good, complacency and
a wariness of life that only the oldest of immortal creatures could ever
Whistler's got that look. Peaches is getting it. I think Hell did it for him.
And then as quickly as I saw it and identified it, his eyes cleared, and
suddenly I found myself looking into the eyes of a bored intellectual.
Unnerved, I dropped my head and inwardly groaned at the hunger
gnawing at my gut. Even with the slayer's promise to 'open a vein' for
me, I couldn't ignore its strength. It had been nearly 12 hours since I
had really fed, and then it was only enough to curtail the hunger-not
even close to appeasing the demon. Granted, the slayer's blood from the
night before had seemed to calm things a bit inside. Yet as soon as I
took a whiff of that mortal's spilt blood in the bedroom, whatever peace I
had found, had been lost.
Growling softly, I stood up and began pacing the room once again-this
time allowing my eyes to take in all the small things that the slayer had
done to make this place her home. A nice upholstered couch-not too
unlike the one her mother had had all those years ago in Sunnydale.
Off-white was the color and I knew if I sat down, it would be as
comfortable as its counterpart. Smiling slightly, I walked over to the two
built-in bookshelves that sat on either side of the fireplace. I was more
than a little surprised to see bestseller fictions sitting among the more
obscure reference books that I had always associated with the slayer and
her friends. My eyes immediately pinpointed a spell book, a few
demonology books as well as an old battered watcher's journal. My
interest peeked, I pulled it out and flipped it open and was shocked to
see it naturally fall open nearly three-fourths of the way through it.
And then I spotted a too-familiar name and instantly knew why.
"'The one with an angelic face has brought another across to join him. A
young man, brown hair, eyes blue as the sky and a title as well...'"
"Shit," I whispered, slamming the book shut.
"Problem?" Adams asked, his voice too close to me for him to still be
sitting at the table.
I spun around and was shocked to see him standing behind me,
watching me as his eyes sparkled in amusement. I blinked a couple of
times; inwardly kicking myself for not realizing he had snuck up behind
me and finally just shook my head in mock defeat.
"Just a bit peckish, bored and not liking to see my past written up in
some wanker's journal, that's all," I said as I moved to slip the book back
into its place.
Ben's hand shot out and grabbed the book, but stopped once his fingers
touched the leather. "May I?"
I lifted my eyebrow at him and tried staring him down.
His hazel eyes met mine and didn't waver-not like I expected him to
fear me or anything. It just would've been nice...
"How 'bout we make a deal...I give you a glass full of my blood in
exchange for you letting me read this?" He asked me as he arched his
eyebrow as well.
Blood in exchange for my past?
Immortal's blood in exchange for my past?
Well, when I put it that way, how could I refuse? "Deal," I muttered,
releasing my hold on the watcher's journal.
Ben nodded once as he grabbed the book and turned on his heel. After
dropping the watcher's journal onto the table, he headed into the
kitchen and grabbed a glass. I leaned against the wall and watched as
he pulled out a dagger from a hidden ankle holster. He placed the glass
in the sink, pushed up the sleeve of his sweater and held his wrist over
With a long practiced swipe, he cut his skin and began to bleed himself.
Almost instantly, I felt my face change as the scent of his blood hit me.
So much like the slayer's, but yet I could tell the difference even before I
tasted it. Whereas hers possessed the slayer essence as well as the
Immortality factor, his was strictly Immortal-but far older than anything
I'd ever tasted before.
"How old are you?" The words were out of my mouth before I even
thought of stopping them.
His head turned as a small smirk played on his lips. "What did Buffy tell
you about me?" He asked as I watched his wound heal in front of me.
My eyes quickly shot over to the sink, and I was disheartened to see the
glass only half-way full. But before I could even growl, he repeated the
action and new river of blood flowed down to the glass.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried remembering what
Buffy had actually said about Adams. 'A mystery within an enigma.'
Chuckling softly, I told him.
He laughed and shook his head. "Anything else?"
"That you were really old, and that you had a lot of layers. As well as
being really irritating."
"She said that? She knows me pretty well then," Ben said as we both
watched the second cut on his wrist heal. With his clean hand, he
picked up the glass of blood and set it on the counter before washing his
My hand shot out and grabbed the glass, feeling my hunger rise to an
almost painful level as wave after wave of Ben's tantalizing scent filled
my senses. As I lifted the glass to my lips, Ben turned and faced me,
watching me curiously.
Deciding to ignore the 'enigma' in front of me, I concentrated on the
blood and wasn't disappointed as the first few drops saturated my taste
Life and power exploded in my mouth, and before I realized it, I had
downed the whole glass-feeling instantly energized.
It was the most powerful blood I had ever tasted-Buffy's included.
Stunned, I placed the now empty glass onto the counter and licked my
lips-almost desperate not to miss any of it. Although my hunger was
gone and my demon was satiated, I knew then it was going to be nearly
impossible not to ask him for some more in the future. I looked up as
my demon-face melted back into its human mask and met Ben's pointed
gaze. "How old are you?" I asked again, this time very aware of what I
"Old...really old. Probably older than anyone you've ever met before-
demon included." Ben said as he pushed himself off the counter and
walked past me towards the table. "My name is Methos," he said as he
sat down at the table. "You can call me that when it's just us three. But
in public, I'm Benjamin Adams, okay?"
"Got it," I said as I walked over and sat back down. "Where the hell is
she?" I muttered as I glanced down the hallway. I suddenly really
needed a cigarette and growled softly as I once again stood up. "I'm
going to grab my fags and see what's keeping her," I told Ben-no
Methos-I silently corrected myself.
Methos nodded, his nose already stuck in the watcher's journal. "Tell
her to hurry up-we haven't got all bloody day!"
I couldn't help but chuckle at the Immortal's irritation at the slayer-it
reminded me all too well of my own at various times in my life. It didn't
occur to me until much later, how prophetic that observation would be.
I found her in the midst of zipping closed a large, travel-sized duffel bag
that was sitting on the bed next to the bound and gagged unconscious
human. Her head shot up and her lips curled in greeting. "Hey
Spike...did you enjoy your bonding moments with Ben?"
I frowned as I stared at the intruder. "How did he get in here? I thought
you took him to another room?"
Buffy blushed as her head dipped down, studying her feet. "I felt bad
leaving him on the floor. I decided the least I could do is let him stay in
here-on the bed. He'll be more comfortable that way," she said softly,
Just when I think there's not much light left in her, she goes and does
something like this and proves me wrong all over again.
Even when she tormented me while I had been fixed, I knew she would
never stake me as long as I couldn't fight back. She was too human and
compassionate to be a cold-blooded killer.
And obviously too human to be a heartless captor as well.
Smirking at her, I picked up my duster and began digging through its
deep pockets. "Softy," I whispered, gently teasing her. "He fed me," I
said, quietly changing the subject as my fingers touched something cold
and plastic. *Cellphone,* I thought to myself as I pulled the contraption
out and looked at it to make sure the thing was turned on. It wasn't.
Puzzled, I shrugged to myself trying to remember when I turned the
damn thing off. Coming up with no answer, I just switched the phone
on and made sure the ringer was set to ring and not vibrate and placed
it back into my coat.
"He did?" She asked, sounding surprised.
I nodded as I checked the other pocket and let out a deep sigh as my
fingers latched onto my cigarette case. I quickly opened it and pulled
out a cigarette. Once lit, I took a deep drag and sighed in relief.
Counting the cigarettes I had rolled, I realized that I was going to need to
pick up my tobacco before the end of the day. I needed my nicotine.
"Can we make a run by the airport before we disappear? My stuff's in a
"Yeah sure, I don't see why not...what do you mean, he fed you?" she
asked, changing the subject as her eyes took on a dangerous glint.
Laughing, I sauntered over to her and wrapped my free arm around her
waist, pulling her flesh against me. "Jealous love?" I asked, whispering
in her ear. "Did you want it to be you that I sipped from? Umm?"
I could feel her body heat rise as her heart began racing. "What-how?
Argh! Spike, you drive me nuts!" she sputtered against my chest.
I nipped at her neck and chuckled softly. "Don't worry, pet. He bled
himself into a glass in exchange for getting a look-see at that watcher's
journal I found stuck among your books." Her head shot up, nearly
hitting my chin. "What I'd like to know, is how in the bloody hell you
managed to get your hot little hands on it in the first place, um?"
Rolling her eyes, she stepped back enough to look me in the eye. "Jeez
Spike, suspicious much? Actually, it was one of those weird serendipity
kinda of things. Joe found a used bookstore in London and bought it
thinking it was a Watcher's chronicle on an Immortal-not a Watcher's
journal of the vampire sort. When he realized what he had, he asked me
if I wanted it. I did, so I reimbursed him-not even knowing until I got
home and began reading it that I actually managed to purchase a
journal that detailed Darla, Angelus, you, and Penn's life in the early
1800s. I was shocked. And curious. How the hell did watchers know all
that?" She asked me, her eyebrows creased in question.
I shrugged, kissed her on the forehead and released her. "Hell if I know,
pet. A demon-a stealthy watcher. Maybe someone that had magical
abilities to cloak themselves. I don't know. I don't remember anyone
around at that time, but then I was just a fledgling," I said softly, trying
not to shudder at the memory.
Remembering those last weeks I had spent as a mortal had never been
easy for me. Even after 200 years as a vampire, a part of me would
always resent Angelus for destroying my life. As the eldest son of a
nobleman, my future-or more succinctly put, William Keating's future
was set. I was in love...nearly engaged...I found myself a natural at
politics, primed to follow my father's footsteps when the elder Keating
finally would succumb to the sickness that was eating away at his body.
Although I-or William-had no love for my father-the senior Keating
was a cruel and heartless bastard-I did love my gentle and innocent-
like mother with all my heart. Even after I murdered my father, I
managed to whisk her away and allowed her to live the rest of her life in
And in safety.
Angelus never found out.
I don't know how I managed to keep even that much of my humanity,
but I did. Although I was not a cruel or hateful human, I had always
been my own man. Something inside of me perpetually balked against
anything that tried to rule over me-my father, society-whatever. I
think that, more than anything else, was what kept me more me than
anyone else I had known that had been brought across.
That's not to say that I wasn't an evil bastard once I became vampire,
because I was. I had to be, in order to cover up that speck of humanity I
had clung to-despite the demon's damnedest to push it out.
Buffy's soft voice broke me out of my own little stint of brooding and I
found myself flashing her a self-depreciating grin.
"You were brooding again, weren't you?"
"Guilty as charged, love," I said as I swung my duster over my shoulder
and grabbed her duffel bag after I stuck the fag in my mouth. "By the
way, just for the record: I'd much rather drink your blood from the
source than a silly glass, if you get my drift." I gave her one of what I
had dibbed as a mortal my 'killer, sexy smile' and opened the door with
a flourish. "After you, milady."
Buffy giggled softly as she walked past me out into the hallway. I
followed her, closing the bedroom door behind me.
Methos looked up from the watcher's journal and nodded his head
towards the kitchen. "There's fresh coffee made," he said as he closed
the book shut. "Interesting reading. Would you believe that I remember
the tragedy that surrounded your family?"
I sat down and arched my scarred eyebrow at him. "Oh really? How's
Methos leaned back in his seat as he watched Buffy refill his coffee mug
and set hers on the table. "Byron," he whispered as he stared down at
his now-filled coffee cup. "He was Immortal and my student. We were in
I don't know why I was surprised.
"I also remember hearing about a mysterious married couple that were
rubbing elbows with nobility. Poised, polite with an air of danger that
seemed to surround them."
"Darla and Angelus..."
He nodded once, watching Buffy as she sat down in between us. She
turned to look over at him and then me, chuckling. "Those two crazy
vamps got around, didn't they?"
Growling softly, I felt my eyes flash as I nodded slowly. "It was all just a
game to them. A way to feed, build up riches to keep them rolling in the
laps of luxury as they fed their way through the ranks. They'd been at it
for nearly a year, before I caught Angelus' eye. Apparently he and Darla
got in a little tiff during some point, and he decided to make me his
personal project. We became friends long before he brought me across.
I had no idea that this man-whom had become one of my closest
friends-was in actuality a demon." I sighed and met Buffy's eyes,
surprised to see the compassion for me in them. "It was all part of the
game. Build my trust and then destroy it and me along with it." I
rubbed my tired face as I found myself remembering how angry I had
been once I had woken up into a life of darkness. "Then once they had
me and my wealth, we left London for Paris, where the real fun began."
"The accent, Spike. Why is yours so-so-"
"Common?" I asked, grinning at her as I watched her nod yes. "Because
love, I worked hard to make it that way. Once my mother died, I wanted
all ties to my former life broken. And that meant changing me as well."
"And William the Bloody? Where did that come from?"
"It was one of those misnomers that took off-became a legend in itself. I
stopped a mugging in the streets of London. Some reporter was there,
wrote all about it in those flyers that used to serve as newspapers of
sorts back then. I became a hero even if I got knifed and scarred for the
trouble," I said as I ran my finger across my eyebrow. "But the other
bloke definitely got the bad end of the deal. By the time I was finished
with him, he was literally a bloody mess-hence William the Bloody."
Methos sighed as his eyes shut. "It's always like that, Buffy. The truth
is never as cut and dry as history makes it out to be." He sat up and
opened his eyes, turning his attention to the slayer. "Something
unfortunate has happened, Buffy. And we need to get you out of town
like now. And we need to lose your watchers as well."
"What now?" she asked him, unable to hide the weariness in her voice.
"A headhunter? A demon? What?"
He shook his head. "Worse." He pushed his chair back and stood up.
As his eyes scanned the room, he began speaking. "Before I say
anything else, I want you to know that if I had known that this was even
remotely possible, I would've done everything in my power to keep you
hidden from the Watchers." He sighed as his head dropped.
He took another deep breath. "Sometime in between the last time I was
privy to the machinations of the Watchers, they met up with the Council
"You mean the slayer's watchers...is that what your saying?"
"Yes," he whispered. "Apparently they only have a flimsy connection, as
far as we know. As soon Joe found out this morning, he's been hacking
his way through the network trying to find the link. From what it
appears, they joined for financial and intelligence gathering purposes.
CoW has access to more information than the Watchers ever could
dream of. Legends...prophecies...ancient books...history. And the
Watchers, they have the cash to fund CoW as they finally move into the
21st century. I don't know why it took this long for them to figure out
that Elizabeth Winters is Buffy Summers...but they finally have.
"Joe logged on this morning only to find a bulletin of the highest
priority, an edict to all watchers-be it from CoW or the Watchers-to
capture you, head intact, and deliver you to CoW headquarters in
"Oh fuck," I whispered, immediately jumping over to the slayer as I
watched her head fall onto the table. "Are you sure, mate? CoW's
Methos nodded solemnly.
"We can't let that happen. Not only are they a bunch of wankers, but
these are the same fools that tried to kill her!"
"And my mother," Buffy whispered as she lifted her head up.
I nearly gasped out loud when I saw the fear and pain etched in her face.
In all that time that I fought against her, I never once caught even a hint
of fear in her eyes. The demon part of me howled at the injustice of a
slayer never fearing the demons she fought against, but was afraid of the
men she supposedly fought for. The irony...don't you love it? I glanced
over at Methos and wasn't surprised to see his anger-the same fury I
was feeling as well. He lifted his head and as our eyes met, an
unspoken message was passed between us. Neither of us was going to
let those wankers get to her.
"And they fired Giles and Wesley," she said right before she wiped her
wet face. "Whistler said that the Powers don't want me with CoW...that's
why he whisked me away the way he did. If I died any more times,
someone on the Council would've finally put two and two together and
taken me away-so I could become their little slave."
I was just about to wrap my arms around her, when I heard a cellphone
ringing. Instinctively, I reached over to my duster and pulled out my
phone and switched it on.
"What?" I barked into the phone as I knelt down beside the slayer. I
knew it had to be Whistler, because Giles and the Poof rarely called me.
"Spike? It's Angel."
*Oh just bloody wonderful,* I silently cursed. It was the Poof. *Fuck
you,* I silently chanted, instantly feeling all that anger and desire that I
had managed to quell earlier resurface once again. A constant battle
and it pissed me off to no end that he never seemed to be bothered by
me. Bloody asshole. "Yeah Peaches, what is it?" I asked, almost proud at
how normal I sounded.
Buffy's head shot up and her eyes widened in shock. I shook my head
at her, urging her to be quiet and waited for him to speak.
"Where are you?"
"I told you before, I left. I went overseas."
I heard his sharp inhale, and I just knew he was clenching his jaw in
frustration. "I know that," he ground out. "Where are you?"
Sighing airlessly, I glanced over at Buffy as if searching for the answers
in her. If seeing her in fear and pain threw me for a loop, imagine how
stunned I was when I watched her face blanch in horror. She shook her
head furiously as she began to mouth 'no,' all the while shaking her
Obviously I was going to have to play this phone call by ear. There was
no way I was going to hurt her anymore than she had already been that
The watchers and the Poof. A double whammy if there ever was one.
"Paris," I answered as truthfully as possible.
"You're with her, aren't you?"
"With who, Peaches? What the bleeding hell are you talking about?"
"Delia had a vision-just now. Imagine her surprise when she saw you
and Buffy together-with another man-being chased. The message was
clear-you need to bring her back here to the States...to Sunnydale."
I shouldn't have been surprised at how easily my control slipped. He
wasn't called my sire for nothing. The fucking asshole. "Angelus-"
"Angel," I said, mimicking him. "What the hell are you talking about?" I
asked as I watched her frown in confusion. With my free hand, I tucked
an errant hair of hers behind her ear as I gave her a small, hopefully
reassuring smile. "Have you been hitting that Irish whisky again? The
slayer's dead, remember? Going on ten years! I oughta know, I was
right there when it happened!" I spat out, making sure to include the
prerequisite growl that I also had for him whenever I spoke to him over
"Quit lying, Spike! Cordy's visions always tell the truth. I don't know
how or why, but she's alive and if you aren't with her now, you will be.
And she will be in trouble! So, whatever else is going on, find her and
bring her back...now!" After yelling out the last line, Angelus slammed
the phone down, the noise nearly causing me to flinch. "Fuck," I
whispered as I turned off the phone.
I heard a harsh, nearly maniacally laugh and looked up to see Buffy
shaking her head, tears running from her eyes as her body shook. "God
Damnit!" she yelled, clenching her fist. "Damn, damn, damn, damn,
damn!" She shot out of the chair, nearly knocking me on my bum in the
process. She began pacing the length of the room, studiously avoiding
Methos who was leaning against the wall, watching us both. "He's right
too, Spike. They won't check there. Everything in my folder or
chronicles says that I've let go of my former life. Sunnydale would be
the last place they'd check out. Who in their right minds would want to
visit the Hellmouth anyway? Oh shit," she whispered, her body folding
on itself as she crumbled onto the floor.
Methos pushed himself off the wall and caught her before she fell.
Grabbing her by the forearms, he shook her. "Buffy, snap out of it! We
don't have time for the dramatics, my dear."
I heard myself growling at his cruel words, but they seemed to have the
right affect on her. Whimpering, she took a few deep breaths and slowly
calmed down. "You can let go of me now, Methos," she said as she
gently pulled herself out of his hold. "You're right. We don't have time
for this." She took another deep breath and looked up at the ancient
Immortal. "So, do you have a plan?"
Grinning, he stepped back and grabbed his coat from the kitchen
counter. "I thought you'd never ask."
~~~end of Book I of Double Destiny~~~