Working Girl Part Six A
Okay folksies. I got the first section of Working Girl retyped, so I'm
posting part Six A just in my livejournal. I won't be posting on my
site until I'm done. Anyway...here's working girl part 6-A. Enjoy!
Lydia pressed her lips together in a thin line as she glanced at her watch, and then sent a peevish look around the train station. Despite the late hour, there was still quite a bit of a crowd out on the platforms, but search as she might, she could not get a glimpse of the familiar platinum head she was looking for.
“I cannot believe he’s going to be late for his own plan,” Lydia muttered beneath her breath in annoyance. As the large clock in the middle of the station tolled the hour, she angrily slapped a pound note onto the table for the Barista and stood up. If Spike couldn’t even bother to show up, why should she risk her skin for him?
She was just stepping towards the exit when a hand shot out of the crowd, “I hope you don’t think you’re going anywhere, poodle.”
“Christ!” Lydia spat out as she whirled to face Spike, ready to give him a good piece of her mind for making her wait and for scaring the hell out of her. “You…you…” She forgot her anger for a second as she stared at him disbelief. “What did you do to yourself?”
Spike scowled at her, self-consciously running a hand through his auburn curls, before shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Despite the sour look and slumped shoulders, Spike looked like he could easily pass for one of the moneyed young Watchers in his tailored ash-colored suit. The gold-wire rimmed glasses were also a nice touch. “Hey! Don’t touch!” Spike protested as Lydia reached out and straightened the knot of the crimson silk tie at his throat.
“At least do up the top button,” Lydia instructed him firmly, “If you’re going to pretend you’re a Watcher, you must make yourself look as neat as possible.” She eyed him speculatively, “I must say, I think I prefer you as a red-head.”
“Yeah…well,” He let out another growl, but this time, it didn’t appear to be directed at her, “Thanks to the uppity chit at the salon, who didn’t warn me until after she was done, that if I tried to bleach it again, my hair would turn orange, I’m going to be one for a while yet. I look like a damned ponce.” He straightened his tie with a beleaguered sigh, “Better?”
“Yes…as long as you don’t open your mouth until absolutely necessary,” Lydia replied, glancing towards the platform where a train had just began disembarking, “I’m still a little fuzzy upon what this little plan of yours entails, exactly. Or how we‘re supposed to pull this off with just the two of us without exposing myself.”
“Don’t sweat it, luv. You won’t be in danger for a moment,” Spike replied with a smirk as he tossed her a set of keys. “Now, be a love and bring around the car, Lot 9, spot 3C, and meet us out front.”
Lydia glanced down at the keys, sighing heavily as Spikes strode off towards the platform, leaving her to her own devices, and she swore beneath her breath. She still had no idea what was going to happen here, exactly.
Briefly, she considered calling the whole thing off completely, but with a glance at the palm of her hand, she noted that the scar had deepened in color. It was obviously far too late now to harbor any doubts and she let out a troubled sigh as she turned and exited the train station, obeying Spike’s command to bring the car. She had nothing left now but to hope that somehow, Spike didn’t get them all killed.
+~+~+
Bad idea…very bad idea…mad Slayer equals bruised Xander…should just turn around now and go while I still have working legs…
Despite this litany playing over and over again in his hand, Xander found himself still glued in the same spot, wondering if he should dare approach Buffy.
True, he didn’t seem particularly threatening at the moment, what with sitting down on the grass beside a fresh grave and playing Solitaire with a pack of playing cards, but as all demons in Sunnydale know, even a defenseless looking Buffy was a dangerous Buffy.
“Are you going to stare at me all damn night, or is there something you want to say, Xander?”
Xander jumped about a foot in the air when Buffy snapped at him, and he laughed nervously, “You know, I always keep forgetting about those Super-Slayer senses…”
“Slayer nothing” Buffy glanced over her shoulder and made a face at him, “You have to got to stop dousing yourself in that cologne Anya keeps buying you.” She turned away from him again and laid a red queen on a black king, “You know, she only buys that crap because she thinks the cowboy in the magazine ads is hot.”
“Yeah, I know,” Xander approached her slowly and cautiously, as though she were a wild and unpredictable animal. Which, actually, most women were, but most women couldn’t put a hole through his chest with her fist. “So…nice jacket…” He immediately gave himself a mental slap in the head when Buffy‘s shoulders tensed, “Which is Spike’s…shut up, Xander.”
“What do you want, Xander?” Buffy asked exasperatedly as she picked up her playing cards and began to shuffle them absently. “I’m too goddamn tired to play games tonight.”
“I saw the U-Haul in front of your house this morning when I passed by work,” Xander replied, trying valiantly to work past his insane urge to sprout out anything that popped into his head. “I just wanted to see…how you and Dawn were doing…with the move and all…”
“We’re fine,” Buffy replied shortly, giving the grave a dirty look. She had been waiting an hour for him to raise already, and she didn’t want to sit there all damn night. She had to be at work in less than six hours.
“Right…you lost your house and you’re moving into a tiny apartment, and you’re fine,” Xander sighed as Buffy glared at him. He bit the bullet and sat down on the grass opposite her. “Buff…listen…”
“Xander, I’m not really in the mood for one of your sterling bits of wisdom, all right?” Buffy went back to shuffling the cards, but in her anger, she applied too much pressure and they went scattering across the grave. She let out a frustrated grunt and started grabbing them up.
“Just…shut up for minute, all right?” Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, “Before you kill me…just…let me apologize, all right? I fucked up. We all did. In so many, many, ways, we screwed up. And not just for the whole resurrection thing. I mean, yeah, that was pretty damn big, but I’ve screwed up things for you in so many other ways too.”
Buffy didn’t answer him nor meet his gaze, but she wasn’t attempting to make him intimately familiar with her fists either, so Xander took a deep breath and pushed on.
“I can’t say that if Willow and Giles had come to me about the whole Spike thing, that I wouldn’t have supported them. I’d like to think that I wouldn’t, but I think we both know that’s not true. I’ve got some issues with the whole vampire thing, which I guess isn’t any kind of a secret…” He almost smiled when Buffy snorted and muttered a quiet ‘Duh’ beneath her breath. “But I probably would’ve been right in that crypt with them, driving him out of town…and after having Anya drill into me for the past month about the scant differences between demons and humans, emotionally, I started to realize that…well, basically, I’m a shitty person.”
Buffy finally glanced at him warily, “And?”
“You’re not going to let me get off easy on this one, are you?” Xander let out a sigh when Buffy shook her head. “I started thinking about all the stuff Spike did for you…and Dawn…and hell…even the gang. Stuff he didn’t need to do. Like get tortured by Glory, or risk his life to rescue Dawn from Glory…and even after you were dead, protecting Dawn…and he never let us go out on patrol alone when you were gone. I mean, I didn’t really notice it at the time, ‘cause I was too wrapped up in my own problems, I guess, but I remember a few nights when he got pretty badly hurt, and probably should’ve stayed at home to get better, but he’d be out the next night, making sure nothing nasty got a bite out of us. That’s not even counting the number of times he saved our asses while we were out there…” Xander frowned thoughtfully, “Which I don’t think we…well, at least I, never thanked him for it. I don’t know why. Maybe I just had this weird expectation that he had to save my ass, that somehow, he was obligated too…which is weird, because, yeah, vampire, no soul, how would he be obligated to do something like that?”
“Especially since you always treat him like crap?” Buffy asked bitingly and Xander winced.
“Yeah…especially because of that,” Xander admitted painfully. “Anyway…I know it’s too little too late, Buffy…but I am sorry, for the way we treated him and the way we treated you. It wasn’t fair. I wish I could go back and fix all the things I did wrong, but since I can’t convince Willow to do a rewind-spell for me, I can only hope that one day, you’ll forgive me.”
Buffy had lapsed into silence once again and was contemplating the marble tombstone before her, and Xander sighed as he stood up and started to walk away. He paused after a few feet and added, “Oh…and um…if Spike does come back…I’ll tell him the same thing. It’s probably long overdue…oh, and for what little it’s probably worth, whatever your decision is…uhh…about him and you? I’ll be behind you…one hundred percent…well, no…ninety-nine percent. I’ll give you two the other one percent if he promises to stop cheating at pool.” Xander shoved his hands into his pocket as he started to walk again, but was stopped by Buffy quietly calling his name.
“Do you think…” She started hesitatingly as he walked back towards her, “Do you wanna sit here for awhile? I’m getting bored of Solitaire and Slap-Jack is just pathetic by yourself.”
Xander grinned lopsidedly, “Sure, Buff. Whatever you want.”
+~+~+
“Dr. Elijah Zblesky?” The neat, prim gentleman with the thin, sour features turned, looked at Spike with contempt before hurrying off.
The hell…? Spike stared after the old man who had just completely blown him off in surprise, wondering if his disguise had really been all that transparent. Don’t bloody tell me that I dyed my hair for absolutely nothing!
“Excuse me,” A large, meaty hand landed on Spike’s shoulder, making the vampire jump in surprise,
“I believe I’m the man you’re looking for.”
Spike turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a Hawaiian shirt that fairly blinded Spike with its bright coloring. Spike took a moment, once his eyes adjusted, to look over the American, noting the blue jeans, five-o-clock shadow and deeply tanned, grinning face. “Ehh…I don‘t think so, mate.”
“Well, fine, but good luck grabbing onto every short little man that fits your stereotype of a doctor,” The man answered good-naturedly as he held out a hand, “Call me Eli.”
“William Archer,” Spike replied, giving the man’s hand a dubious shake, and tried to throw off the unbalance the doctor’s appearance had given him. He had a cover to maintain, after all. “I apologize, I was just not expecting…”
“’The Ugly American?’” Eli suggested with a grin, “Don’t worry about it. Now, how about we hash out what it is the illustrious Council wants with little old me over a round of drinks? On their dime, of course.”
“Absolutely out of the question,” Spike replied tensely, not all of his stiffness part of his character acting. He couldn’t allow the situation to get out of hand. “We have much to discuss and somewhere to be…”
“Don’t even give me that,” Eli scowled, his good mood abruptly disappearing. “After what the Council pulled last time I was contracted, I want to be satisfied that I won’t have a repeat of last year’s ’incident.’ Now. We are going to get a drink. We are going to discuss what it is, exactly, you want me to do. Or I‘m gone. Got it?”
“Got it,” Spike replied weakly as he removed his glasses and absently cleaned them with the handkerchief from his breast-pocket. Pledge or not, damn the consequences, I am going to kill that woman.
+~+~+
“I didn’t know! How could I have possibly known?” Lydia defended herself in a panicked whisper, “I had no idea he had dealings with the Council before…I can’t even think of what possible situation, outside of you, we would even have need of a neurosurgeon!”
“That’s a rather good point, actually,” Spike replied as he glanced towards the pub which Eli had disappeared into. Spike had hung back on the pretense of needing to call someone to let them know that they would be late so that he could speak to Lydia without having her seen by the doctor. Thanks to the tinted divider that separated the driver and passengers from each other, Lydia had come through thus far without her identity being compromised. “What would the Council need him for?”
“We have to abort this right now,” Lydia told Spike, shaking her head, “It’s far too dangerous.”
“Screw that,” Spike straightened his tie, giving Lydia a scathing look, “He’s the only one that Travers thought would succeed in removing the chip,” He took a deep, completely unnecessary breath as he straightened his shoulders. “I’m sure there’s some way to we work this to our advantage…”
“Oh no…you work this to your advantage…Spike, do you even realize how much trouble I can get in? If Quentin finds out that I’m involved in this…” She started hyperventilating, her eyes glazing a bit, “I don’t even want to think about what he’d do to me.”
“Lydia,” Spike laid his hands on her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eyes, “Don’t think about what Travers can do to you. Instead, think of something constructive; for example, what I can do to you if you welsh on your pact with me. He’ll what? Fire you? I’ll twist your little head off your shoulders and put it up on display on London Bridge for a bit of nostalgia.”
“That’s…is that supposed to be comforting?!”
“Of course it bloody isn’t,” Spike rolled his eyes as he released her. “That’s what liquor is for. Now, I’m going to see if I can salvage this mess; you get a drink at the bar and calm yourself down. Okay, pet?”
“Yeah,” Lydia sighed heavily as Spike nodded at her encouragingly, “Fine. I still think we’re doomed, though.”
“Yeah,” Spike muttered beneath his breath as he headed into the pub. “Me too.”
+~+~+
Eli had already commandeered a table in the back of the pub by the time, and just as Spike slid into the booth, a bored waitress dropped two pints on the table. Spike just barely resisted the urge to grab up the mug and guzzle the warm, frothy beer, but that would hardly be behavior befitting a Watcher. He had to settle for calmly sipping at it and appearing to look completely bored and disinterested.
“Aw…” Eli took a healthy swig of his beer, an enraptured look on his face, “After that hell of a train ride, this really hits the spot,” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and eyed Spike speculatively. “No offense, buddy, but for some reason, you don’t really strike me as the Watcher type.”
“I’m…rather new to the organization,” Spike replied, “This is actually my first assignment,” He glanced down at the manila folder he had brought in with him from the car. A few papers covered a synopsis of Eli’s background in medicine and neurosurgeon that had been culled from the files Lydia had taken from Travers’ office. Most of the papers that filled out the folder, however, were just parts of completely irrelevant reports that Lydia had lying about the apartment. He wanted to look as fully prepared and informed as possible. “Perhaps we should get right down to business?”
“Yes, let’s,” Eli leaned against the back of the seat. “This better be good, by the way.”
Spike took a second to gather his thoughs together before proceeding with the ‘interview.’ However, the tables had turned unpleasantly on him. Now he felt as though he was the one under scrutiny, not the doctor. “Now…I’m afraid I’m not entirely aware of your previous experience with us, judging by your earlier outburst, but I’m confident that we can reach an agreement regarding the issue I’m to put forth to you…”
“Really? Because I’m not all that confident myself,” Eli replied, his face flushing with anger, “Look, let’s just can the bull-crap. The only reason I bothered answering the call to come all the way down here when I’ve got a whole hospital full of patients depending on me is the fact that I’m pretty damned surprised y’all have the balls to place that call in the first place. I take my Hippocratic Oath quite seriously, I’ll have you know.” Eli shook his head when he realized Spike had no idea what he was talking about. “You really are new, aintcha?”
Well, this whole thing is going tits-up in a hurry, Spike thought as he offered Eli a wan smile in response. “I’m afraid I may be in over my head,” Spike ducked his head apologetically, “I was only told that you’re the only who can perform surgery to remove an internally-powered neurological chip implanted deep within the cerebral cortex of a demon.” There. He laid his cards all out on the table, and could only see if Eli would play ball. “Beyond that, I’m entirely in the dark.”
“Absolutely positively NOT!” Spike jumped when Eli slammed a meaty fist onto the table, nearly upsetting their mugs of beer. “There is no chance in hell I’m going to perform an eight-hour surgery just so y’all can kill my patient before he even comes out of the anesthesia!” Eli let out a disgusted snort as he added in a lowered voice, “The fucking balls…demon or not, you had no goddamn right to kill my patient…”
Spike couldn’t help himself.
Despite all his efforts, despite his determination, Spike hadn’t really believed that he would even come close to having his chip removed. Hadn’t, really, since he had kidnapped the Initiative doc. If he couldn’t remove the chip, why would he think that anyone else not even remotely connected to the Initiative be able to do it? The only reason he had bothered to come as far as he did was because he couldn’t think o anything else to do to help Buffy. In the back of his mind, he had long ago accepted that having the chip removed was an impossibility.
“You’ve done it before?!” Spike blurted out in astonishment as he gaped openly at Eli. “Was it successful? Was there any damage done to the thought processes?! Did you think you can do it again? Well? Bloody answer me, doc!”
Eli was taken aback by Spike’s sudden excitation, and he slowly shook his head as realization dawned on him. “I’ll be damned,” He muttered, “You’re him, aren’t you? The vampire the Watchers wanted me to operate on.”
Oh…fucking great, mate. Way to blow you cover sky-high. He thought in sudden panic. He couldn’t come this close and fuck it all up. He furiously tried to think up a way to save his ass, but Eli glared at him furiously.
“If you try to insult my fucking intelligence by lying to my face, you can forget about me even considering helping you out.” Eli threatened before Spike could open his mouth. “I’m not as stupid as the Council seems to think I am.”
“What?” Spike stared at Eli as though he had his lost his mind, “You’d help me? Why?”
“Now, don’t go jumping the gun on me; I only said I’d consider it,” Eli warned Spike, “Never said I’d do it. You’re a vampire, for Chrissakes. I just can’t go and release you, free as a bird, all half-cocked, now can I?” Eli leaned back in his seat, a self-satisfied look on his face as Spike was now thoroughly disarmed and confused. “The only reason I’m willing to listen to you right now is the fact that the Council wanted me to release you, free as a bird, all half-cocked and I’m mighty curious about why they would want to do that.”
“Not the only one, mate,” Spike muttered as he gestured for the bar maid, “Something stronger this time, luv. Think I’m going to need it,” Spike leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, “You see, mate…it’s like this. There’s this girl…”
+~+~+
When the last customer had been artfully separated from his money, Anya dispensed quickly with her closing duties, and locked the shop up tightly, leaving Giles behind.
Giles wearily rubbed his sore and tired eyes, his glasses resting atop his head. He shifted in his uncomfortable seat as he reached for his glass of scotch, and winced as a flare of pain rocket upwards from his lower back, all the way to his neck. He gingerly leaned back to avoid irritating the pain farther and sighed as he looked down at the appallingly useless books and pages spread across the table before him.
Journals, thesis, histories…all of them a veritable wealth of frustration and dead-ends. Each one contradicted the other, the only thing they could seem to agree on was the name of their subject, William the Bloody. Beyond that, it was a wilderness of conjectures and rampant assumptions.
It was his luck, of course, that when he should be called upon to do a thorough study of Spike, it would be when the blond nuisance was nowhere to be found.
Giles cursed his own foolishness. This was obviously something that he should have done years ago. Hell…he could have saved himself the eye-strain and back-pain if he had only gotten Spike good and drunk, as he was often maudlin when he was, and persuaded the vampire to spill his guts.
However, he hadn’t. He had lost his chance, perhaps forever, and was now stuck combing through an unending miasma of misinformation for any sort of clue that could perhaps lead him to Spike’s whereabouts. Thus far, he couldn’t seem to find a location Spike was likely to frequent as a place to lick his wounds and recover.
Might as well give up…Giles thought pessimistically as he poured himself another drink. However, he did not take his own advice and close up the books. He knew that nothing but Spike could bring he and his Slayer back together on speaking terms, perhaps save an apocalypse, but those were severely lacking thus far.
In some desperation, Giles had tried calling Angel to see if he knew where Spike would go after leaving Sunnydale. Of course, he was careful to not tell Angel specifically why he was searching for Spike, only telling the dark-haired vampire that Spike had some information that they needed and nothing more.
“I don’t keep tabs on the blond idiot. Just give him some time and he’ll be back. He never gives anyone the courtesy to stay away for long,” Was the only reply Angel could be arsed to give, much to Giles’ frustration. Normally, that was true, but Giles wasn’t so sure about that this time around.
Despite what feelings Spike believed he had for Buffy, he most certainly had taken Willow and he had been willing to kill him. Giles doubted very much that Spike would place himself in a situation where he could very well be killed with no chance of defending himself. It would be like a lamb happily tripping along to the charnel house, despite the screams of his brothers.
I’ve most definitely been poring over this sordid trash for far too long, Giles thought with a wince at the horrible imagery his mind had provided him. Again, though, he did not close the books. Couldn’t bring himself to do it, actually, for a moment’s distraction could cause him to lose the barest thread of his investigation.
He saw a sudden flash of blond and the black sheen of leather from the corner of his eye and he looked up towards the window of the shop, almost expecting, some may say even hoping see the vampire in question standing there. It was not to be. It was only a small group of young girls on their way home from a night at the Bronze.
Giles finally allowed himself to stand up and stretch. Closing time at the Bronze always coincided with the prime-hunting time of vampires. A bevy of giggling and most likely intoxicated, young coeds would flood the darkened streets of Sunnydale. Where the vampires would be found, so would Buffy.
As if on cue, two vampires appeared, amber eyes glowing as they hurried after the girls. Buffy followed a scant moment later. She hesitated briefly before the window of the shop, glanced inside, but if she saw him standing in there, watching her wistfully, she gave no outward sign to indicate so. She hurried onwards and Giles sighed heavily.
He poured himself another glass of scotch and returned to his research.
Then End until I finish typing up part B.
Lydia pressed her lips together in a thin line as she glanced at her watch, and then sent a peevish look around the train station. Despite the late hour, there was still quite a bit of a crowd out on the platforms, but search as she might, she could not get a glimpse of the familiar platinum head she was looking for.
“I cannot believe he’s going to be late for his own plan,” Lydia muttered beneath her breath in annoyance. As the large clock in the middle of the station tolled the hour, she angrily slapped a pound note onto the table for the Barista and stood up. If Spike couldn’t even bother to show up, why should she risk her skin for him?
She was just stepping towards the exit when a hand shot out of the crowd, “I hope you don’t think you’re going anywhere, poodle.”
“Christ!” Lydia spat out as she whirled to face Spike, ready to give him a good piece of her mind for making her wait and for scaring the hell out of her. “You…you…” She forgot her anger for a second as she stared at him disbelief. “What did you do to yourself?”
Spike scowled at her, self-consciously running a hand through his auburn curls, before shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Despite the sour look and slumped shoulders, Spike looked like he could easily pass for one of the moneyed young Watchers in his tailored ash-colored suit. The gold-wire rimmed glasses were also a nice touch. “Hey! Don’t touch!” Spike protested as Lydia reached out and straightened the knot of the crimson silk tie at his throat.
“At least do up the top button,” Lydia instructed him firmly, “If you’re going to pretend you’re a Watcher, you must make yourself look as neat as possible.” She eyed him speculatively, “I must say, I think I prefer you as a red-head.”
“Yeah…well,” He let out another growl, but this time, it didn’t appear to be directed at her, “Thanks to the uppity chit at the salon, who didn’t warn me until after she was done, that if I tried to bleach it again, my hair would turn orange, I’m going to be one for a while yet. I look like a damned ponce.” He straightened his tie with a beleaguered sigh, “Better?”
“Yes…as long as you don’t open your mouth until absolutely necessary,” Lydia replied, glancing towards the platform where a train had just began disembarking, “I’m still a little fuzzy upon what this little plan of yours entails, exactly. Or how we‘re supposed to pull this off with just the two of us without exposing myself.”
“Don’t sweat it, luv. You won’t be in danger for a moment,” Spike replied with a smirk as he tossed her a set of keys. “Now, be a love and bring around the car, Lot 9, spot 3C, and meet us out front.”
Lydia glanced down at the keys, sighing heavily as Spikes strode off towards the platform, leaving her to her own devices, and she swore beneath her breath. She still had no idea what was going to happen here, exactly.
Briefly, she considered calling the whole thing off completely, but with a glance at the palm of her hand, she noted that the scar had deepened in color. It was obviously far too late now to harbor any doubts and she let out a troubled sigh as she turned and exited the train station, obeying Spike’s command to bring the car. She had nothing left now but to hope that somehow, Spike didn’t get them all killed.
+~+~+
Bad idea…very bad idea…mad Slayer equals bruised Xander…should just turn around now and go while I still have working legs…
Despite this litany playing over and over again in his hand, Xander found himself still glued in the same spot, wondering if he should dare approach Buffy.
True, he didn’t seem particularly threatening at the moment, what with sitting down on the grass beside a fresh grave and playing Solitaire with a pack of playing cards, but as all demons in Sunnydale know, even a defenseless looking Buffy was a dangerous Buffy.
“Are you going to stare at me all damn night, or is there something you want to say, Xander?”
Xander jumped about a foot in the air when Buffy snapped at him, and he laughed nervously, “You know, I always keep forgetting about those Super-Slayer senses…”
“Slayer nothing” Buffy glanced over her shoulder and made a face at him, “You have to got to stop dousing yourself in that cologne Anya keeps buying you.” She turned away from him again and laid a red queen on a black king, “You know, she only buys that crap because she thinks the cowboy in the magazine ads is hot.”
“Yeah, I know,” Xander approached her slowly and cautiously, as though she were a wild and unpredictable animal. Which, actually, most women were, but most women couldn’t put a hole through his chest with her fist. “So…nice jacket…” He immediately gave himself a mental slap in the head when Buffy‘s shoulders tensed, “Which is Spike’s…shut up, Xander.”
“What do you want, Xander?” Buffy asked exasperatedly as she picked up her playing cards and began to shuffle them absently. “I’m too goddamn tired to play games tonight.”
“I saw the U-Haul in front of your house this morning when I passed by work,” Xander replied, trying valiantly to work past his insane urge to sprout out anything that popped into his head. “I just wanted to see…how you and Dawn were doing…with the move and all…”
“We’re fine,” Buffy replied shortly, giving the grave a dirty look. She had been waiting an hour for him to raise already, and she didn’t want to sit there all damn night. She had to be at work in less than six hours.
“Right…you lost your house and you’re moving into a tiny apartment, and you’re fine,” Xander sighed as Buffy glared at him. He bit the bullet and sat down on the grass opposite her. “Buff…listen…”
“Xander, I’m not really in the mood for one of your sterling bits of wisdom, all right?” Buffy went back to shuffling the cards, but in her anger, she applied too much pressure and they went scattering across the grave. She let out a frustrated grunt and started grabbing them up.
“Just…shut up for minute, all right?” Buffy narrowed her eyes at him, “Before you kill me…just…let me apologize, all right? I fucked up. We all did. In so many, many, ways, we screwed up. And not just for the whole resurrection thing. I mean, yeah, that was pretty damn big, but I’ve screwed up things for you in so many other ways too.”
Buffy didn’t answer him nor meet his gaze, but she wasn’t attempting to make him intimately familiar with her fists either, so Xander took a deep breath and pushed on.
“I can’t say that if Willow and Giles had come to me about the whole Spike thing, that I wouldn’t have supported them. I’d like to think that I wouldn’t, but I think we both know that’s not true. I’ve got some issues with the whole vampire thing, which I guess isn’t any kind of a secret…” He almost smiled when Buffy snorted and muttered a quiet ‘Duh’ beneath her breath. “But I probably would’ve been right in that crypt with them, driving him out of town…and after having Anya drill into me for the past month about the scant differences between demons and humans, emotionally, I started to realize that…well, basically, I’m a shitty person.”
Buffy finally glanced at him warily, “And?”
“You’re not going to let me get off easy on this one, are you?” Xander let out a sigh when Buffy shook her head. “I started thinking about all the stuff Spike did for you…and Dawn…and hell…even the gang. Stuff he didn’t need to do. Like get tortured by Glory, or risk his life to rescue Dawn from Glory…and even after you were dead, protecting Dawn…and he never let us go out on patrol alone when you were gone. I mean, I didn’t really notice it at the time, ‘cause I was too wrapped up in my own problems, I guess, but I remember a few nights when he got pretty badly hurt, and probably should’ve stayed at home to get better, but he’d be out the next night, making sure nothing nasty got a bite out of us. That’s not even counting the number of times he saved our asses while we were out there…” Xander frowned thoughtfully, “Which I don’t think we…well, at least I, never thanked him for it. I don’t know why. Maybe I just had this weird expectation that he had to save my ass, that somehow, he was obligated too…which is weird, because, yeah, vampire, no soul, how would he be obligated to do something like that?”
“Especially since you always treat him like crap?” Buffy asked bitingly and Xander winced.
“Yeah…especially because of that,” Xander admitted painfully. “Anyway…I know it’s too little too late, Buffy…but I am sorry, for the way we treated him and the way we treated you. It wasn’t fair. I wish I could go back and fix all the things I did wrong, but since I can’t convince Willow to do a rewind-spell for me, I can only hope that one day, you’ll forgive me.”
Buffy had lapsed into silence once again and was contemplating the marble tombstone before her, and Xander sighed as he stood up and started to walk away. He paused after a few feet and added, “Oh…and um…if Spike does come back…I’ll tell him the same thing. It’s probably long overdue…oh, and for what little it’s probably worth, whatever your decision is…uhh…about him and you? I’ll be behind you…one hundred percent…well, no…ninety-nine percent. I’ll give you two the other one percent if he promises to stop cheating at pool.” Xander shoved his hands into his pocket as he started to walk again, but was stopped by Buffy quietly calling his name.
“Do you think…” She started hesitatingly as he walked back towards her, “Do you wanna sit here for awhile? I’m getting bored of Solitaire and Slap-Jack is just pathetic by yourself.”
Xander grinned lopsidedly, “Sure, Buff. Whatever you want.”
+~+~+
“Dr. Elijah Zblesky?” The neat, prim gentleman with the thin, sour features turned, looked at Spike with contempt before hurrying off.
The hell…? Spike stared after the old man who had just completely blown him off in surprise, wondering if his disguise had really been all that transparent. Don’t bloody tell me that I dyed my hair for absolutely nothing!
“Excuse me,” A large, meaty hand landed on Spike’s shoulder, making the vampire jump in surprise,
“I believe I’m the man you’re looking for.”
Spike turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a Hawaiian shirt that fairly blinded Spike with its bright coloring. Spike took a moment, once his eyes adjusted, to look over the American, noting the blue jeans, five-o-clock shadow and deeply tanned, grinning face. “Ehh…I don‘t think so, mate.”
“Well, fine, but good luck grabbing onto every short little man that fits your stereotype of a doctor,” The man answered good-naturedly as he held out a hand, “Call me Eli.”
“William Archer,” Spike replied, giving the man’s hand a dubious shake, and tried to throw off the unbalance the doctor’s appearance had given him. He had a cover to maintain, after all. “I apologize, I was just not expecting…”
“’The Ugly American?’” Eli suggested with a grin, “Don’t worry about it. Now, how about we hash out what it is the illustrious Council wants with little old me over a round of drinks? On their dime, of course.”
“Absolutely out of the question,” Spike replied tensely, not all of his stiffness part of his character acting. He couldn’t allow the situation to get out of hand. “We have much to discuss and somewhere to be…”
“Don’t even give me that,” Eli scowled, his good mood abruptly disappearing. “After what the Council pulled last time I was contracted, I want to be satisfied that I won’t have a repeat of last year’s ’incident.’ Now. We are going to get a drink. We are going to discuss what it is, exactly, you want me to do. Or I‘m gone. Got it?”
“Got it,” Spike replied weakly as he removed his glasses and absently cleaned them with the handkerchief from his breast-pocket. Pledge or not, damn the consequences, I am going to kill that woman.
+~+~+
“I didn’t know! How could I have possibly known?” Lydia defended herself in a panicked whisper, “I had no idea he had dealings with the Council before…I can’t even think of what possible situation, outside of you, we would even have need of a neurosurgeon!”
“That’s a rather good point, actually,” Spike replied as he glanced towards the pub which Eli had disappeared into. Spike had hung back on the pretense of needing to call someone to let them know that they would be late so that he could speak to Lydia without having her seen by the doctor. Thanks to the tinted divider that separated the driver and passengers from each other, Lydia had come through thus far without her identity being compromised. “What would the Council need him for?”
“We have to abort this right now,” Lydia told Spike, shaking her head, “It’s far too dangerous.”
“Screw that,” Spike straightened his tie, giving Lydia a scathing look, “He’s the only one that Travers thought would succeed in removing the chip,” He took a deep, completely unnecessary breath as he straightened his shoulders. “I’m sure there’s some way to we work this to our advantage…”
“Oh no…you work this to your advantage…Spike, do you even realize how much trouble I can get in? If Quentin finds out that I’m involved in this…” She started hyperventilating, her eyes glazing a bit, “I don’t even want to think about what he’d do to me.”
“Lydia,” Spike laid his hands on her shoulders and looked her squarely in the eyes, “Don’t think about what Travers can do to you. Instead, think of something constructive; for example, what I can do to you if you welsh on your pact with me. He’ll what? Fire you? I’ll twist your little head off your shoulders and put it up on display on London Bridge for a bit of nostalgia.”
“That’s…is that supposed to be comforting?!”
“Of course it bloody isn’t,” Spike rolled his eyes as he released her. “That’s what liquor is for. Now, I’m going to see if I can salvage this mess; you get a drink at the bar and calm yourself down. Okay, pet?”
“Yeah,” Lydia sighed heavily as Spike nodded at her encouragingly, “Fine. I still think we’re doomed, though.”
“Yeah,” Spike muttered beneath his breath as he headed into the pub. “Me too.”
+~+~+
Eli had already commandeered a table in the back of the pub by the time, and just as Spike slid into the booth, a bored waitress dropped two pints on the table. Spike just barely resisted the urge to grab up the mug and guzzle the warm, frothy beer, but that would hardly be behavior befitting a Watcher. He had to settle for calmly sipping at it and appearing to look completely bored and disinterested.
“Aw…” Eli took a healthy swig of his beer, an enraptured look on his face, “After that hell of a train ride, this really hits the spot,” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and eyed Spike speculatively. “No offense, buddy, but for some reason, you don’t really strike me as the Watcher type.”
“I’m…rather new to the organization,” Spike replied, “This is actually my first assignment,” He glanced down at the manila folder he had brought in with him from the car. A few papers covered a synopsis of Eli’s background in medicine and neurosurgeon that had been culled from the files Lydia had taken from Travers’ office. Most of the papers that filled out the folder, however, were just parts of completely irrelevant reports that Lydia had lying about the apartment. He wanted to look as fully prepared and informed as possible. “Perhaps we should get right down to business?”
“Yes, let’s,” Eli leaned against the back of the seat. “This better be good, by the way.”
Spike took a second to gather his thoughs together before proceeding with the ‘interview.’ However, the tables had turned unpleasantly on him. Now he felt as though he was the one under scrutiny, not the doctor. “Now…I’m afraid I’m not entirely aware of your previous experience with us, judging by your earlier outburst, but I’m confident that we can reach an agreement regarding the issue I’m to put forth to you…”
“Really? Because I’m not all that confident myself,” Eli replied, his face flushing with anger, “Look, let’s just can the bull-crap. The only reason I bothered answering the call to come all the way down here when I’ve got a whole hospital full of patients depending on me is the fact that I’m pretty damned surprised y’all have the balls to place that call in the first place. I take my Hippocratic Oath quite seriously, I’ll have you know.” Eli shook his head when he realized Spike had no idea what he was talking about. “You really are new, aintcha?”
Well, this whole thing is going tits-up in a hurry, Spike thought as he offered Eli a wan smile in response. “I’m afraid I may be in over my head,” Spike ducked his head apologetically, “I was only told that you’re the only who can perform surgery to remove an internally-powered neurological chip implanted deep within the cerebral cortex of a demon.” There. He laid his cards all out on the table, and could only see if Eli would play ball. “Beyond that, I’m entirely in the dark.”
“Absolutely positively NOT!” Spike jumped when Eli slammed a meaty fist onto the table, nearly upsetting their mugs of beer. “There is no chance in hell I’m going to perform an eight-hour surgery just so y’all can kill my patient before he even comes out of the anesthesia!” Eli let out a disgusted snort as he added in a lowered voice, “The fucking balls…demon or not, you had no goddamn right to kill my patient…”
Spike couldn’t help himself.
Despite all his efforts, despite his determination, Spike hadn’t really believed that he would even come close to having his chip removed. Hadn’t, really, since he had kidnapped the Initiative doc. If he couldn’t remove the chip, why would he think that anyone else not even remotely connected to the Initiative be able to do it? The only reason he had bothered to come as far as he did was because he couldn’t think o anything else to do to help Buffy. In the back of his mind, he had long ago accepted that having the chip removed was an impossibility.
“You’ve done it before?!” Spike blurted out in astonishment as he gaped openly at Eli. “Was it successful? Was there any damage done to the thought processes?! Did you think you can do it again? Well? Bloody answer me, doc!”
Eli was taken aback by Spike’s sudden excitation, and he slowly shook his head as realization dawned on him. “I’ll be damned,” He muttered, “You’re him, aren’t you? The vampire the Watchers wanted me to operate on.”
Oh…fucking great, mate. Way to blow you cover sky-high. He thought in sudden panic. He couldn’t come this close and fuck it all up. He furiously tried to think up a way to save his ass, but Eli glared at him furiously.
“If you try to insult my fucking intelligence by lying to my face, you can forget about me even considering helping you out.” Eli threatened before Spike could open his mouth. “I’m not as stupid as the Council seems to think I am.”
“What?” Spike stared at Eli as though he had his lost his mind, “You’d help me? Why?”
“Now, don’t go jumping the gun on me; I only said I’d consider it,” Eli warned Spike, “Never said I’d do it. You’re a vampire, for Chrissakes. I just can’t go and release you, free as a bird, all half-cocked, now can I?” Eli leaned back in his seat, a self-satisfied look on his face as Spike was now thoroughly disarmed and confused. “The only reason I’m willing to listen to you right now is the fact that the Council wanted me to release you, free as a bird, all half-cocked and I’m mighty curious about why they would want to do that.”
“Not the only one, mate,” Spike muttered as he gestured for the bar maid, “Something stronger this time, luv. Think I’m going to need it,” Spike leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, “You see, mate…it’s like this. There’s this girl…”
+~+~+
When the last customer had been artfully separated from his money, Anya dispensed quickly with her closing duties, and locked the shop up tightly, leaving Giles behind.
Giles wearily rubbed his sore and tired eyes, his glasses resting atop his head. He shifted in his uncomfortable seat as he reached for his glass of scotch, and winced as a flare of pain rocket upwards from his lower back, all the way to his neck. He gingerly leaned back to avoid irritating the pain farther and sighed as he looked down at the appallingly useless books and pages spread across the table before him.
Journals, thesis, histories…all of them a veritable wealth of frustration and dead-ends. Each one contradicted the other, the only thing they could seem to agree on was the name of their subject, William the Bloody. Beyond that, it was a wilderness of conjectures and rampant assumptions.
It was his luck, of course, that when he should be called upon to do a thorough study of Spike, it would be when the blond nuisance was nowhere to be found.
Giles cursed his own foolishness. This was obviously something that he should have done years ago. Hell…he could have saved himself the eye-strain and back-pain if he had only gotten Spike good and drunk, as he was often maudlin when he was, and persuaded the vampire to spill his guts.
However, he hadn’t. He had lost his chance, perhaps forever, and was now stuck combing through an unending miasma of misinformation for any sort of clue that could perhaps lead him to Spike’s whereabouts. Thus far, he couldn’t seem to find a location Spike was likely to frequent as a place to lick his wounds and recover.
Might as well give up…Giles thought pessimistically as he poured himself another drink. However, he did not take his own advice and close up the books. He knew that nothing but Spike could bring he and his Slayer back together on speaking terms, perhaps save an apocalypse, but those were severely lacking thus far.
In some desperation, Giles had tried calling Angel to see if he knew where Spike would go after leaving Sunnydale. Of course, he was careful to not tell Angel specifically why he was searching for Spike, only telling the dark-haired vampire that Spike had some information that they needed and nothing more.
“I don’t keep tabs on the blond idiot. Just give him some time and he’ll be back. He never gives anyone the courtesy to stay away for long,” Was the only reply Angel could be arsed to give, much to Giles’ frustration. Normally, that was true, but Giles wasn’t so sure about that this time around.
Despite what feelings Spike believed he had for Buffy, he most certainly had taken Willow and he had been willing to kill him. Giles doubted very much that Spike would place himself in a situation where he could very well be killed with no chance of defending himself. It would be like a lamb happily tripping along to the charnel house, despite the screams of his brothers.
I’ve most definitely been poring over this sordid trash for far too long, Giles thought with a wince at the horrible imagery his mind had provided him. Again, though, he did not close the books. Couldn’t bring himself to do it, actually, for a moment’s distraction could cause him to lose the barest thread of his investigation.
He saw a sudden flash of blond and the black sheen of leather from the corner of his eye and he looked up towards the window of the shop, almost expecting, some may say even hoping see the vampire in question standing there. It was not to be. It was only a small group of young girls on their way home from a night at the Bronze.
Giles finally allowed himself to stand up and stretch. Closing time at the Bronze always coincided with the prime-hunting time of vampires. A bevy of giggling and most likely intoxicated, young coeds would flood the darkened streets of Sunnydale. Where the vampires would be found, so would Buffy.
As if on cue, two vampires appeared, amber eyes glowing as they hurried after the girls. Buffy followed a scant moment later. She hesitated briefly before the window of the shop, glanced inside, but if she saw him standing in there, watching her wistfully, she gave no outward sign to indicate so. She hurried onwards and Giles sighed heavily.
He poured himself another glass of scotch and returned to his research.
Then End until I finish typing up part B.