Subject: [SpikesSalvation] Phoenix Dreams- Chapter 13
Date: Thu, 30 Oct 2003 15:49:11 -0800 (PST)
From: Jerusha Hancock <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com
To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com


Chapter 13


Buffy never ceased to be amazed at Angel's headquarters. She knew it drove him 
crazy to be the head of such a large organization at times, and then he drove 
everyone else crazy, but he'd brought them all so far. Without the resources he 
had placed at Giles' disposal, as the de facto head of the Council, they would 
never have gotten off the ground as quickly as they did. Not to mention all the 
help he'd given in finding and training the Slayers themselves. Suddenly she 
felt slightly guilty for not coming more often. Angel had been incredibly 
accomodating in letting her do pretty much whatever she wanted to do for the 
past eight, almost nine years. Oh well. She'd be in town the next few months 
anyway, maybe the entire year. Willow was planning on being in L.A. for that 
long as well, and Dawn had been right. It would be nice to be around some of 
the old gang full-time again.

She looked over at her younger sister, who was also looking around, impressed. 
They shared a smile, and then something caught Buffy's eye. A man was walking 
through the lobby, not an unusual event, but he struck her as familiar. 
Frowning, she watched as another guy called to him and handed him a bill. 
"Looks like you were right about Man-U, Will," he said. "They're fielding a 
great team this year."

The man he'd called William grinned in return, and made a disparaging remark 
about his friend's choice of teams, resulting in a slap on the shoulder. And 
then he turned towards Buffy just enough so that she got a good look at his 
face. It was impossible, of course, but there he was. Even from across the 
lobby she could see that it was the same eyes, the same cheekbones, the same 
stride, even the blonde hair. She froze and then started after him as he made 
his way towards the elevators, turning angrily when someone grabbed her arm.

"Buffy." Angel had her upper arm in a firm grip, and wasn't letting go.

She tried shaking him off. "Look, Angel, I know it sounds crazy, but I just saw 
Spike. He was right there—" Buffy turned her head back in the direction William 
had gone, but turned back towards Angel when he didn't let go. And when she saw 
his face, she knew. "You knew," she whispered. "How long have you known?"

"Let's go up to my office," Angel replied softly. Dawn watched the entire scene 
with fascination and rapidly blossoming anger.

"That's really Spike?" she asked, eyes flashing. "Spike is here, and you didn't 
tell us?"

"Look," Angel said, casting a glance around the bustling lobby. "I know you're 
upset, and I promise I'll let you yell at me all you want to, but in my office."

Buffy wanted to say no. She wanted to make a scene out here, in public, where 
he couldn't hide, and she was just mad enough to do it and damn the 
consequences. But she reminded herself that Angel was the head of a large, 
successful corporation, one that paid a number of her bills, and what that 
boiled down to was that she owed him. She owed him enough to stop the rant and 
follow him up to his office and listen to his rational arguments for why he 
never told her Spike was alive. "Fine," she hissed, yanking her arm out of his 
grip. "Let's go upstairs."

Angel cursed silently as the elevator reached his floor. He knew he should have 
made William contact Buffy. Or, if nothing else, he should have told her 
himself. His plan had been to catch her in the lobby and let her know that the 
man she knew as William Smith had been Spike, but he'd been just a hair too 
late, and William had been just a little too early. Dammit.

"All right, Angel," Buffy said, once the door had been closed behind her. 
"Spill."

Angel barely managed to contain a flinch when he found the eyes of both Buffy 
and her sister on him. The wrath of the Summers was fierce. "First of all, the 
man you saw is William Smith, and he's been working for me for about three 
years now."

"The VP of personnel and special projects," Buffy murmured. "I wondered about 
him when he first started, but—"

Angel shook his head. "Will's human, Buffy, or at least he's close enough. It 
seems he's still got some left-over abilities from when he was a vampire, for 
instance he's as good a fighter as Spike ever was, but other than that he's 
completely human." When Buffy might have interrupted, he held up a hand. "Just 
hear me out. He also has no memory of his life as Spike. What little he does 
know comes in dreams, and those are sketchy most of the time. He didn't even 
remember me, Buf, and the only reason he's here now is because I prevented him 
from becoming a midnight snack."

Buffy's anger dulled to a simmer. "But you told him that we were friends, 
right?" she asked. "I mean, he knew that there were people who would want to 
know that he was still alive."

Angel shook his head. "William didn't think you'd want to know. I think he 
thought it would be best if Spike remained dead, and I let him make the call."

Buffy wanted to scream, and she could see from the look on Dawn's face that her 
sister was equally frustrated. So maybe Spike—William—didn't know her and 
didn't remember her. Angel had known how she felt about the vampire, and still 
hadn't contacted her. "I still think you should have contacted me when you 
found him, Angel. You would have wanted me to do the same for you if it had 
been one of your friends, like Gunn or Cordy."

The big vampire winced visibly. Buffy had a really good point, and she was 
probably right. If it had been one of his friends, he would have been furious 
that he wasn't contacted, but she didn't really know William. And he told her 
that.

"You might be right, Angel," Dawn said, from her position by his window. "But 
the way he died, there were a lot of things that didn't get said. I would have 
liked..." she trailed off. "The point is that you knew and you didn't tell us. 
Spike, or William, or whatever you call him, he doesn't know us, so he couldn't 
know."

Angel nodded wearily, letting it go. They were right, he was right, there 
wasn't a clear-cut answer in this particular situation. He was about to say 
something else when the intercom buzzed impatiently. "Yes?"

"Mr. Angel, I know you're in a meeting, but Miss Carletti's here with Ty. There 
was some emergency at his school and Mr. William is in a meeting in the White 
Room with strict instructions not to be disturbed." Angel frowned. Meetings in 
the White Room were not something you disturbed unless you felt like it would 
be a good time to end your existence. And that meant he was the go-to guy.

"Send them in, Deb." Buffy watched as a young woman, several years Dawn's 
junior, came into the room leading a little boy of about eight.

The boy didn't even pause coming into the office, shooting straight towards 
Angel's arms. Much to Buffy and Dawn's surprise, the vampire didn't even blink, 
just grabbed him and held on tight. "Hey, I got you now, little man," he 
murmured. Angel looked up at the woman. "Bad one, Emmie?"

"Bad enough," she said, her face grim. Her dark hair was cut short, and dyed 
black with red tips. She had several earrings in each ear, and there was both a 
hardness and a softness to her that Buffy found reminiscent of Faith. "School 
called me because he'd passed out at recess. They thought maybe he was sick. I 
passed it off as one of his seizures."

Angel nodded in reply, all the while stroking the boy's back. "All right. I 
want you to notify Wes. Tell him I need him here ASAP. He's probably the best 
one at asking the right questions. Let Gunn and Fred know too, since this is 
probably big. Leave a message for William so he knows to come here as soon as 
his meeting's over, and put Lorne on stand-by. Ty can stay with him for a 
while."

Emmie blinked several times. "You mean—"

"You're coming with us," Angel said, a smile tugging at his lips. "We'll need 
all the fire-power we can get on this one, I think. Buffy," he turned to the 
other Slayer. "You want to kick some ass?"

"When do I not?" she replied flippantly, looking at him with a huge question in 
her eyes.

He smiled grimly. "Sorry. Buffy, Dawn, this is Mary Elizabeth Carletti, also 
known as Emmie. She's Ty's nanny and a Slayer." He looked down at the boy's 
dark hair. "And this guy is Ty. William's son. Emmie, Ty, this is Buffy 
Summers. The Slayer."

~~~~~~

Buffy was still trying to process the fact that Spike—William—had a son when 
the man himself strode into the room. Fred, Gunn, and Wesley had all showed up 
about thirty minutes earlier, and they were all trying to decipher what Ty had 
told them he'd seen. Buffy had to admire the kid. The stuff that he was 
describing probably would have shocked her to tears if she'd been eight, but 
after about five minutes in Angel's arms, he'd recovered sufficiently to give a 
good description.

Angel hadn't had any time at all to tell her exactly how Spike had managed to 
come by a son, but she wasn't sure he was biological. There was little 
resemblance, except for Ty's startling blue eyes, though she supposed it was 
possible he looked like his mother. In any case, she was reserving judgment. At 
first glance, however, she did like Emmie. The girl was sharp, but gentle with 
the boy, and willing to sit back and listen to what was going on.

When William entered the room, Ty scrambled down from Angel's lap and went 
directly for his father, even as Buffy stood silently. She had no idea what, if 
anything she should say, so she waited as the man that had been Spike greeted 
his son. "Hey, little man," he said softly. "You okay?"

Ty raised his chin and nodded, a gesture that reminded Buffy of Spike as they 
headed into battle with Glory, with the First. "Yeah."

"Good boy," William said, pulling his son in for another hug. And then he saw 
Buffy. For an instant, the Slayer saw both recognition and raw desire there, 
and it seemed that time was literally slipping away. The last time she'd seen 
that look on his face was when she'd come back from the dead, and he'd seen her 
on the stairs. Then the look was gone, replaced by mild interest, the look you 
would give an old acquaintance you hadn't seen for a while. "Buffy."

"I see you remember the Slayer, Will," Angel said. "And her sister Dawn?"

"Of course," he said, reaching out to shake both their hands, his son still 
firmly planted at his side. "It's good to see both of you here. I have a 
feeling we can use all the help we can get on this one."

"Good," Angel said, throwing a cautioning look at Buffy when it looked as 
though she might say something else. 'Spike's dead,' his eyes seemed to say. 
'Get used to it.' "Then let's get started."

~~~~~

Buffy had watched him all evening long, the way he moved, the way he fought, 
the way he spoke. He still wore the same dark colors he had in the past, but 
the pants were no longer ragged black jeans, and his shirt was blue silk. The 
way he fought was the same; he moved with the same grace, the same flash that 
he always had, giving Angel a hard time from his spot across the room, stepping 
in to help Emmie when she got herself into a sticky situation.

What wasn't the same was the way his eyes slid right past her, the way he 
seemed to purposely avoid her. It made Buffy want to cry, because it was that 
avoidance that told her Angel had been right. Spike really was dead.

Dawn had chosen to stay behind with Lorne and Ty. Though her sister could fight 
with the best of them, she felt uncomfortable going into a fight with people 
she didn't know well. What's more, Buffy could see from her eyes that William's 
presence made her uncomfortable; he was so like, and yet so not-like their dead 
vampire. And so now Buffy sat in the back of Wesley's SUV with Emmie, with 
William in the front passenger seat. She couldn't help but feel she was in a 
car full of strangers.

"Why on earth did you dye your hair, Will?" Wes asked from his position from 
behind the wheel. They had been lucky no one had gotten hurt. Some idiot of a 
warlock had decided to open a dimensional porthole and release a number of 
demons, and there had already been a few big ones waiting by the time they 
reached the point of disturbance.

Buffy's ears pricked up in the back seat. The only thing that seemed to have 
remained the same was William's bleached blonde hair, even though it was 
shaggier than it had been in the past, and not quite as slicked back.

He shrugged, and she could tell he was uncomfortable from where she sat. "It 
was a bet."

Emmie piped up from behind him. "You know how Ty wasn't real excited about 
getting his schoolwork done last quarter?" she asked. When Wes nodded, she 
continued. "Will and I promised that if he got all his assignments done, with 
no incompletes, and he read 50 books of a certain length over the summer, we 
would dye our hair. He got to pick my color, and I got to pick Will's. That was 
the deal."

"I didn't think he'd actually do it," William admitted, a certain rueful 
amusement in his tone. "But he kept us busy going to the library, and the next 
thing I know he's reminding us of our deal."

"Well, it seems to have taken," Wesley said, barely hiding a smirk. "Ty was 
asking me the other day if I would start teaching him Latin."

William shook his head. "Well, 'm bloody glad he decided he wanted to know a 
few more things than the right move in one of his sodding games. Took me ages 
to get him off of that thing last year."

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that this time around," Emmie said. 
"He's pretty much sold on the learning thing. With any luck, you can ship him 
off to Oxford when he's ready for college."

"Cambridge," both men said at once, and shared a smile. To say that Buffy felt 
left out would have been an understatement. She knew that Angel had his own 
friends here in L.A., and she'd expected to feel a little out of place with 
them. But to run across Spike, who'd been as close as her own shadow, one of 
the few people she'd trusted implicitly in those last days, and have him fit in 
where she did not. It was worse. Infinitely worse.

Especially since he wouldn't even meet her eyes in the rearview mirror.

"But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this 
extraordinary power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every 
way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted but not 
forsaken; struck down but not destroyed." 2 Cor 4:7-9

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