Sires
An hour and half after sunset, two vampires arrived at the Hyperion.
There hadn’t been much talk in the car. There hadn’t been much talk at all
during the whole day, in fact. In the morning, as she was leaving the kitchen,
Buffy had apparently heard Spike ask her Watcher if she had fed, and she
had been glaring at him ever since he had joined her in the living room
with two mugs of heated blood. To his dismay, she had refused the blood,
claiming, yet again, that she wasn’t hungry. He knew she had to be, and he
itched to force her to feed. That hadn’t helped so far, however, and he doubted
it was the solution. But he didn’t know what the solution was.
Giles had come into the living room, and although he hadn’t said a word,
his whole demeanor had been expressing curiosity, or rather concern, about
what was going on with Buffy. Another pointed glare had convinced Spike
that it would be better not to tell anything to the Watcher within his Childe’s
earshot.
He was getting tired of her behavior. Tired in a very angry way. Angry
as a Sire was entitled to be. The thing was, he just couldn’t let himself
act on this anger again. He couldn’t bear to think about acting with Buffy
the way Angelus had once acted with him. Not only was the thought sickening,
but it seemed utterly useless, too. She didn’t know about discipline and
punishments amongst vampires – she didn’t know much about vampires’ night-to-night
lives at all – and he doubted she would understand, or even accept, if he
suddenly was to bring this kind of practices in their relationship.
She walked inside the hotel first and he followed, frowning slightly
as he thought about the mess they were in. Why did it have to happen when
they had a major problem with the Potentials too? He was startled out of
his thoughts by a barked order.
“William! In my office. Now.”
Unconsciously standing straighter, he stared at Angel who was striding
toward Buffy and him. On the side of the hall, Fred and Gunn, who were talking
with what was probably a prospective customer, turned to look at their boss,
puzzlement plain on their faces.
“We don’t have time for…” he started, trying to keep his voice calm
despite the irritation he felt rising in him.
“We’ll make time,” Angel interrupted him sharply, before turning his
attention to Buffy. “Why don’t you go see Dawn? I’m sure she’d love to show
you what she did with the suite.”
His tone was cool as he very clearly dismissed her, almost cold, and
she seemed to realize it as she glanced back and forth between the two men.
Angel gave her directions to Dawn and Steven’s suite, and she walked away,
after a last questioning look at Spike that remained unanswered.
“I said get in my office, Childe.”
For a couple of seconds, Spike seriously considered turning his back
on Angel and simply walking out. He was in no mood to handle the brunette
right now. They had a job to do, however, and that was to find Faith and
assure her safety. And they needed Angel for that, so he might as well confront
him now so that they could be on their way in the best delays.
Suppressing both a sigh and a growl, he walked to the designated office,
all too aware of Angel’s presence behind him. He sat down in one of the
chairs in front of the desk and pulled out his cigarettes. Angel was already
mad, so he had no reason not to light a fag. The sound of the closing door
was ominous.
“Care to explain yourself?”
His gaze followed the brunette as he walked around the desk to sit behind
it. Had Angel still been a vampire, Spike was sure his eyes would have
been gold now, judging by both his voice and the anger that came from him
in almost visible waves.
“Explain what?” he drawled, smirking around his cigarette.
Oh, he knew what this was about. It was fun to play dumb, though, and
watch Angel’s ire grow a little more. It was far less fun, however, when
Angel pulled a silver and onyx ring from his finger and threw it on the
desk.
“You said you still considered me as your Sire,” Angel said coldly.
“You gave me this. If it doesn’t mean a thing to you, you might
as well say it straight out.”
He considered the piece of jewelry for a while, then looked back up
at Angel.
“I’ve yelled at you before,” he said carefully. “And done far worse
than tell you to go to hell.”
Angel shook his head. “You have. But never when all I was trying to
do was help.”
“I don’t need any help,” Spike hissed through clenched teeth.
“That’s not what I heard this morning. It sounded to me like you were
hurt, just like I know I would have been hurt in your place. And if you
can’t accept that as your Sire I care about whatever is going on in your
life, then you might as well take that ring back now and stay out of mine.”
Spike didn’t reply, too shocked to force a word past his lips. Shocked
because of the words that had been uttered. Shocked because of the pained
tone in which they had been said. And shocked because he had said something
very similar to Buffy, not that long ago – except for the staying out of
his life part, he would die rather than be without her. In this instant, he
could suddenly see very clearly how similar his behavior and Buffy’s were,
both of them closing off from the one person who could have helped. It would
have been comical if it hadn’t been so sad.
Leaning toward the desk, he picked up the signet, and couldn’t help
noticing the hurt look that fluttered on his Sire’s usually so inexpressive
features. The hurt disappeared however when he silently presented the ring
to Angel in his open palm. Angel nodded lightly, and placed the symbol
of their link back on his finger.
“So, what’s wrong?” he said, all anger gone and forgotten. “Is it only
because she refused the ritual, or is it more than that?”
Spike threw his head back, closing his eyes for an instant. And then
he gave in.
“It’s a lot more than that. The ritual was supposed to help, and it…”
The phone started ringing, and he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed
or relieved about being interrupted. He had that strange feeling of inadequacy
about being Buffy’s Sire, since he obviously wasn’t finding the way to help
her, and to let his own Sire know about his shortcomings was painful to say
the least. Angel gave him a half apologizing look as he picked up. After
a second, however, he was handing him the phone.
“Giles,” he said simply.
Spike frowned as he took the receiver, wondering what hell had broken
loose in Sunnydale since they had left.
“Watcher?”
“Spike. There’s a slight change of plans. You need to get to the airport.
Manon will arrive there in twenty five minutes, and she could be in danger.”
Absently putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the desk, Spike
asked for details
“I didn’t speak to her directly,” Giles replied. “All I know is that
her Watcher is dead, and she was scared enough to jump in the first plane
to California. She might be followed or have a not so welcoming party for
all we know, so I’d like you and Buffy to go pick her up.”
“You think it’s the same thing that we’re already on?”
“I don’t know, I guess we’ll have a better idea once she tells us what
happened exactly.”
“Alright, we’ll be on our way then.”
“Good. Her plane comes in from Detroit at 10:05. Oh, and Spike? If you
and Buffy were kind enough not to leave the receiver off the hook, maybe
we could get time sensitive information on time?”
Spike shook his head as he gave the phone back to Angel. Had he left
the thing on that morning? Or maybe it had turned back on when he had dropped
it on the floor. It didn’t matter now.
“Manon is arriving in half an hour,” he informed his Sire. “We need
to go pick her up.”
“What about Faith?” Angel replied with a frown.
“We’ll get her afterwards.”
“That would mean that we can’t talk to her until tomorrow night. And
what are we doing with Manon in the meantime?”
Spike frowned, once more wondering why everything needed to happen at
the same time. They needed to protect both women, and he wasn’t going to
pick whose safety they were to assure first.
“Right. Doesn’t work so well. We have to get Faith as soon as possible,
and we have to get the kid too. Let’s just split up. You go for Faith, I
go for Manon. Meet up in Sunnyhell.”
The brunette’s frown only deepened as he looked at Spike with a surprised
look.
“And Buffy?” he asked at last, as if not believing that Spike hadn’t
mentioned her.
Buffy. Spike closed his eyes for an instant, and made his decision.
She wanted space? Fine, he would give her space. Maybe being apart for a
few hours would calm both of their tempers.
“With you. If you touch her, I’ll kill you,” he said with a warning
glance at Angel, who rolled his eyes at him in reply.
“You could change your tune, it’s getting old,” he commented. “Let’s
go tell her and…”
“You tell her,” Spike interrupted him. “I need to hurry to be at the
airport on time.”
He got to his feet, and, fishing out his car keys from his duster’s
pocket, gave them to Angel.
“Better if you two take my car,” he explained, “in case you have to
travel by day.”
Angel frowned slightly before nodding, and offered his own keys to Spike.
“Oh, by the way, you don’t mind if we use the mansion, do you?”
Another frown, and a mumbled agreement, and Spike was giving both thanks
and goodbyes. The vampire could see that Angel was going to add something,
but he decided that it could wait, and walked out of the room. He heard
however his Sire’s parting words.
“We’ll finish this discussion, William. Count on it.”
In a large mansion on the outskirts of Sunnydale, the night was only
beginning, and it promised to be long. Most of the minions had trickled out
already, sent to hunt for their dinner with strict orders about when to
be back and not to make themselves noticed. It would have been pointless
to keep a low profile and protect the house if the dozen minions were allowed
to hunt together and bring attention to themselves. One of the High Mistress’
Childer was out, too, Sylvyan, the youngest one, and his orders were to keep
an eye on the minions and report any transgression. She doubted any of them
would act out, though, not after the demonstration she had inflicted on
the three idiots who had ignored her orders and approached the traitor.
Knowing Sylvyan, he would also bring back a succulent little treat for
his Sire, as it usually granted him access to her bed for the day. Tonight,
however, she was irritated enough that he might not enjoy her attentions
so much. Not that he would dare say so, of course, he was well trained.
“So, she escaped?” she repeated what she had just been told by another
of her Childer, Ada. Her tone was only conveying carrying half of her anger,
but it was already harsh enough to make everyone within hearing distance
flinch.
“Yes, High Mistress,” Ada said meekly, bowing her head a little more.
“That is what Orion said. They killed her Watcher, but the Slayer escaped.
He thinks she left town but doesn’t know…”
“Enough,” she growled with a sharp gesture of her hand.
Ada fell silent, her eyes still on the floor. Orion was the High Mistress’
oldest Childe. A little over three hundred years old, now. He was currently
her favorite, which was why she had entrusted him with the task of bringing
back the French Slayer’s blood. Obviously, she needed to decide on a new
favorite Childe. Maybe Ada? Her little spells were sometimes handy, and
if she could use one of them now, she would definitely gain back some of
the favor she had lost nine months before with the stupid mistake of trying
to prove herself by taking a Slayer.
“Find her,” she ordered her Childe. “Find the Slayer for me, and you
may hunt again.”
Hope and devotion shone brightly in Ada’s pale gray eyes as she briefly
looked up before bowing once more and scurrying away to her room and spell
books. For nine months, she had been forced to feed off minions, or from
the other Childer when they agreed to it, which wasn’t often. Being denied
fresh blood was her punishment – part of it – for having thought that she
could kill a Slayer without her Sire’s approval. She had learned that lesson
very effectively. She wouldn’t touch a Slayer ever again without the express
permission to do so.
Of course, there soon wouldn’t be such a thing as a Slayer anymore,
so it wouldn’t matter anyway.
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The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.