Chapter 2

“Wake, do you wake in the dark in the strange far place,/Window and door not set like the ones we knew,/Leaning your face through the dark for another face,/ Stretching your arms to the arms that are far from you,/Even as I, through the depths of this darkness, do?...” ~E. Nesbit, “In Absence”

Wesley spotted the Council representative right away; it just had to be someone from his class at the Watcher’s Academy—someone he’d rather not have ever seen again. “There.”

“I see him.” Spike sounded grumpy, and as though his patience, always in rather short supply, had already run out. “Who is he?”

“Classmate.”

“Ah, there you are, Wesley!” Ryder Fellows sounded rather too hearty, as he always had, even while making his life hell at school. “I thought you were hiding.”

Wesley reminded himself that it was important not to insult their escort immediately; that could wait until later. “No. It was a rather full flight.”

“Of course.” Fellows turned to Wesley’s companion. “And this must be the great William the Bloody. Or do you prefer Spike?”

“Spike is fine,” the vampire said smoothly. “I take it you two know each other.”

Fellows laughed just a little too loudly. “We went to school together, but we weren’t close. Wesley here was something of a swot.”

“Is that a fact?” Spike asked mildly. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Wesley shot him a sour look in warning. “Are we expected somewhere, Fellows, or do we have time to get cleaned up?”

Fellows smiled. “I’m under orders to take you to your hotel today, and pick you up bright and early tomorrow morning for the meeting with Mr. Travers. We’ve made arrangements to ensure your safe travel, Spike.” His smile changed, and something in his expression caused the hair on the back of Wesley’s neck to stand up. “Your father wants to see you tomorrow, Wesley. I think Mr. Travers wanted to see Spike alone.”

“I can’t wait,” Spike said dryly. “If you please, we’re both rather tired. We didn’t sleep on the plane, and our girlfriends were understandably upset about us leaving. I’m sure Wesley was up all hours yesterday, too.”

“Quite.” Wesley caught Spike’s smirk, and he knew that the Council members had likely bitten off more than they could chew. He wouldn’t be surprised if the visit was cut short, an idea that he could appreciate.

~~~~~

“So, how badly did that git torture you?” Spike asked idly while lounging on the bed in Wesley’s room.

Wesley didn’t reply immediately. “Let’s just say that he wasn’t the worst and leave it at that.” He sighed. “I was a prefect and Head Boy my last year there. It’s only natural that Fellows would be jealous.”

“I see.”

“You must have gone to school at point.” Wesley sounded both irritable and defensive now. “Things can’t have changed all that much.”

Spike laughed, although the sound had little humor in it. He had transformed himself completely when he’d become a vampire, and even when his soul had been returned, he’d never gone back to being that man. “Told you once that we weren’t all that different, Wes.”

Their eyes met, and Wesley nodded shortly. “Do you think—”

Spike cut him off with an aborted gesture. They had been working together long enough now that they could communicate with very few words, and Spike raised his voice slightly. “Why don’t we go down the street? Think I saw a place to get a drink when that Fellows git dropped us off.”

Wesley took the hint. “Of course. I could use a stiff drink after that flight.”

They didn’t speak again until they were seated in a corner table at a pub some distance from their hotel, and after Spike had made certain that they weren’t being followed.

“Are you suspecting a trap of some kind?” Wesley asked in a low voice after they had put in their orders.

Spike shook his head. “Can’t say, but I don’t like the fact that our rooms are on opposite ends of the building.” He was still wearing the Gem of Amara, and now he slipped it off of his finger and passed it to Wesley in one smooth motion. “I want you to hold this.”

“Are you certain?” Wesley kept the ring concealed in his hand. “It would provide more protection should the Council decided to do something dangerous to your health.”

“I’m sure.” Spike took a long draught of his ale. “It might just be a coincidence, but if they want us separated, I’d prefer not to have that ring on me. The Council wankers would probably regard that as the only reason they need to stake me.”

“Even the most short-sighted of them have to realize how foolish that would be,” Wesley argued, although he didn’t sound terribly certain of it. “Not only would they lose a potential ally, but they risk the Slayer’s wrath.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Could be that they don’t much care about the Slayer’s wrath, Wes. Think about it: where’s the new Slayer? The one who was called after Faith died. It’s not like we need another in Sunnydale, but if they’ve got their hooks into this one, might be that they’d be happy to send her after us.”

Wesley was clearly unhappy with that thought. “Bugger it all. They’ll be splitting us up tomorrow.”

“Keep sharp,” Spike advised him.

“When my father is around?” He was clearly disgruntled. “Always.”

~~~~~

“Hello, lovely ladies,” Xander said expansively as he sat down.

Buffy, Willow and Tara exchanged looks. “You’d better not let Anya catch you calling us that.” Buffy sounded amused.

Xander grinned. “Why? I would just tell her that she’s the loveliest, and she’d let me make it up to her later. I’m smooth.”

“A real Don Juan,” Willow said dryly.

Xander feigned hurt. “That was sarcasm in your voice, missy.”

“We mock where we love.” Willow sipped at her soda. “How’s work?”

Xander scanned the crowd for Anya. They were supposed to meet at the Bronze after they both got off. “It’s work. I’m waiting to see if they lay me off before getting out of the basement.”

“You’re moving?”

“Anya pointed out that it smells down there, and my parents don’t make the best landlords.” Xander forced a smile and tried not to think of the crumbling ceiling tiles that seemed to disintegrate under the force of his parents’ drunken arguments.

All three girls looked sympathetic. “Yeah,” Willow agreed. “They never did fix the water damage, did they?”

“No, and we’re probably breathing toxic mold.” Xander tried to make it into a joke; he hated to see pity on their faces. Then again, of all of them, Buffy was the only one with a decent parent.

Parents, Xander supposed. Under the circumstances, Giles was probably the closest thing to a father that any of them had.

“It’s a good time to get out of there, then.” Buffy straightened as another song came on. “Oh! I love this song. Willow? Tara? Want to dance?”

“I’ll pass,” Tara said quietly.

“Sure.” Willow rose. “Xander?”

“I’ll just keep Tara company.” Xander didn’t think that Anya would appreciate him being on the dance floor without her, and he wasn’t in the dancing mood.

Although Anya certainly wanted him to get out of his parents’ basement, and he certainly wanted out, Xander had no idea how long this job was going to last.

He liked construction work a lot—he was good at it—but he had never been able to keep a job for more than a few months at a time, and he’d had this one for over six. They were going to be letting the temporary guys go pretty soon, and Xander hadn’t been told that he was anything but temporary.

“Are you okay?”

He glanced over at Tara. “Sure.” Xander thought that maybe he was imagining it, but he could see a reflection of his own fear in her eyes. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.” Tara didn’t sound as though she meant it, and for a moment, Xander thought about pressing her.

Then he realized that he didn’t know her all that well, and he remembered that he didn’t much like talking about his fears and insecurities with a stranger.

The moment passed, and Anya appeared next to their table. “Hi, Tara.” The ex-demon plopped down in a chair. “No offense, but I hate college students.”

Tara looked more amused than offended. “Why is that?”

“Because they come into the store wanting books that they need for their class today, and then they get mad at me for not having them, because every other student needed the same books.” She huffed. “And then they go spend their money somewhere else, which is most unfair.”

Xander saw the smile that Tara was struggling to hold in. “That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“It wasn’t.” The pout on her face was adorable. “And the stupid bartender still won’t give me a beer.”

“Allow me,” Xander said, rising.

“How come you can buy beer, and I can’t?” Anya demanded. “I’m older than you are!”

“Yes, but you don’t have a fake I.D.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips and went to order drinks for everyone. For tonight, at least, he could put thoughts of his job and housing arrangements aside.

~~~~~

Spike couldn’t help but be a little concerned for Wesley. Although he knew very little about the man’s father, he could guess at quite a bit, and Wes’ racing heartbeat gave him enough to go on.

Wesley was nervous as all hell, and truth be told, Spike was a little suspicious. He had to wonder why the Council insisted that they visit in person when so much could be done virtually or over the phone.

The pretty young assistant who had greeted them led him back to a spacious reception area outside what Spike could only assume was Quentin Travers’ office. “Wait here,” she instructed him.

Spike sprawled in one of the padded leather chairs, wondering if he should let Travers know that Spike wasn’t above killing him if he thought that Buffy was at all in danger.

After a thirty minute wait, Spike was ushered in, the young assistant all the while protesting about how badly she felt that Travers hadn’t seen him immediately. “Bollocks,” Spike said rudely. “You wanted to keep me waiting.” He met Travers’ eyes as he said this.

The head Watcher was standing behind a large expanse of empty desk, and Spike noticed that he made no move to extend his hand in greeting. “I hope we understand one another.”

“It seems that we do.” Travers waved him to a seat. “Please. Sit.”

Spike sat, making certain that his body language conveyed his sense of control over the situation. It might be a false sense of control, but he knew it would piss Travers off. Spike was well aware that at least some of the man’s tactics were designed to put him off his game.

“So, what was so important that we couldn’t have discussed it over the phone?”

“I see you’re a—man—who likes to get down to business.”

Spike heard the pause and knew it was meant to insult. Travers wanted to ensure that Spike knew he was less than—a vampire, and therefore unimportant in the scheme of things.

“No point in beating around the bush, is there?”

“I suppose not. There was an important matter I wished to discuss with you.” Travers’ voice was cool, giving nothing away. “A prophecy.”

Spike snorted. “When isn’t there a prophecy?”

“This one specifically mentions a souled vampire. If you know of another, now would be the time to mention it.”

“I don’t.” Spike raised an eyebrow. “Where is this prophecy?”

“We came across a copy recently. One of our archivists found it; our understanding is that it’s one of a very few manuscripts. It also mentions a key of some sort. Do you know anything about that?”

Spike wasn’t about to give up any information before he had more to go on. “Doesn’t work that way, Travers. I need more to go on before I can tell you anything.”

“Can or will?”

“Little bit of both.” Spike rose from his seat. “I want a copy of the manuscript in Wesley’s hands by the end of the day. He’ll do his own translation, then we’ll see what we can do for you.”

The other man showed the first sign of temper that Spike had seen, glowering at him with narrowed eyes. “I believe that I’m the one in charge here.”

“Sure you are,” Spike responded with a smirk. “But that doesn’t mean you can control me. I don’t know what this key is, or even how I might figure into the prophecy, but I want a set of eyes on it that I can trust.”

“Do you think I would have called you here on false pretenses?”

“I know you would. Now, where is Wesley?”

“Mr. Wyndam-Pryce is currently with his father. I have already arranged for him to be given a copy of the manuscript.”

Spike rose and walked towards the door without saying more.

“You ought to try to be more polite. I saved the Slayer’s life.”

That sent Spike over the edge, and it was all he could do not to rip Travers’ throat out right there. “You’re a bloody Watcher,” he snarled. “That’s your fucking job.”

He left without saying another word; Spike didn’t think any more needed to be said.

~~~~~

Wesley recognized the office immediately. He’d been called in here more than once, and his father hadn’t moved since he was a teenager.

He also recognized the dread taking shape in the pit of his stomach.

After a brief knock, Fellows shoved the door open. “Have fun, Pryce.”

The décor was just as he remembered, too, and Wesley realized that he was seventeen again, scared to death of his father’s inevitable disapproval. “I am not a child,” he reminded himself silently. “I am successful and rich, and I have all that I need. I don’t need his approval.”

The words sounded hollow, even inside his own head.

“Wesley.” His father’s voice was formal and precise. “Sit.”

He did as he was told, wishing that he could access some of Spike’s insolence, as it would drive his father crazy. “How is Mother?”

“She’s well.” Roger Wyndam-Pryce clasped his hands together in front of his face. “She wanted to see you while you’re here.”

“I’d like that.”

There was a moment of silence, and Wesley was the one to break it. He knew that’s what Roger had wanted; it was a method of control. “Was there a particular reason you wanted to see me?”

“I want you to leave the employ of that vampire.”

“Spike is my friend.” Wesley kept his voice even with some difficulty. “And we’re partners now; he’s not my employer.”

Roger smiled thinly. “Listen to yourself, Wesley. You are a Watcher. Friendship with a vampire is not a possibility.”

“It’s a reality, Father. I’m afraid you’ll have to accept it.”

Roger stood. “It’s time for you to grow up, and stop playing at being a superhero. There is a research position for you in Bath. I had to pull a few strings, of course, and there will be a probationary period, but—”

“No.” The word felt good in his mouth. Wesley couldn’t remember the last time he’d told his father no. “I’m a wealthy man. I don’t have to work for my living, but this is what I want.”

He had no idea where the words were coming from, how he could possibly have the strength to deny his father’s will.

“Wesley, you will do as I say. Your mother isn’t well. She needs you here.”

Wesley stood. “No, she doesn’t. I wouldn’t be able to see her very often in Bath. If you were telling the truth, you would have made certain that I had a job in the London area.”

The old anger rose in Roger’s face, and his expression was the one he’d worn every time he’d shut Wesley in the closet. Old fear rose up in Wesley’s throat to choke him. “You stupid boy,” Roger hissed. “Don’t you know that if you stay with the vampire, you become an enemy of the Council? If he does something that warrants being hunted down—”

“You’ll gladly give the order,” Wesley said, steeling himself. Spike had taught him not to be afraid—or at the very least to meet his fear head on. “You would rather that Spike be dust, than be casting doubt on your precious order.”

Wesley didn’t stick around to hear his father’s response. It wasn’t worth it. He rushed out of the office and down the hall, only pausing when he heard the slightly panicked voice of Travers’ assistant behind him.

“Mr. Travers asked that you receive a copy of this before you left,” the young woman said breathlessly.

Wesley wondered if he knew her, if she was a member of one of the old families, or a prodigy that Travers had handpicked, knowing that such gestures bred loyalty. He supposed it didn’t matter, for the outcome would always be the same.

“Thank you.” He took the sheaf of papers and walked out of the building, breathing in the rain-damp air. Wesley paused for only a moment to wonder how Spike was getting back. The Council had picked them up in a vehicle with windows tinted so dark that even a vampire would be safe, but he had no idea whether they would offer the same consideration for the ride back to the hotel.

Wesley couldn’t quite believe that Spike had maintained a polite façade with Quentin Travers, and he knew that one way or another he would have hell to pay for walking out on Roger Wyndam-Pryce.

“I don’t care,” he muttered, trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter. In truth, it had always mattered.

~~~~~

Buffy glanced down at the map that Spike had drawn before leaving. “Take the next right. I think.”

Tara didn’t reply. She made the turn with the same frown of concentration she’d worn during the entire trip. Buffy knew that the other woman was concerned about damaging Spike’s car in some way, and in truth, Buffy was glad she wasn’t driving. It meant that she wouldn’t be to blame if something did happen.

“There it is.” Buffy pointed at the huge house with a sigh of relief.

“When were you here?” Tara asked, relaxing a bit now that they had nearly reached their goal.

“Right before we came back to Sunnydale, after the Initiative tried to kill me.” Buffy climbed out of the car as soon as it came to a stop. “Robert is great. You’ll like him.”

“That’s what Spike said.”

“He has a good instinct for that sort of thing,” Buffy admitted. Her hand stole toward her pocket where her cell phone was tucked away. Spike had called to tell her about his meeting with Travers, and Wes’ meeting with his father, but he still had no idea how long they would be in London.

“We might leave sooner than we thought,” he had told her. “Don’t think we want to stay longer than we have to.”

Her reverie was interrupted by the appearance of one of the same servants Buffy had seen the last time, followed closely by Robert. “Buffy, how nice to see you again.”

“Same here,” she replied with a smile. “Robert, this is Tara.”

“Ah, Tara. It’s a pleasure.” Robert bowed over her hand, and Buffy was amused to see that Tara was blushing brightly. “Please, both of you, come inside. You’ll be staying the night?”

“We hadn’t planned on it,” Buffy replied. “I’ve got to get back to Sunnydale.”

Robert nodded. “Duty calls?”

“Something like that.”

“Sit, please.” He waved them into a comfortable study. “I know that you drink diet, Buffy. Tara?”

“Just water,” Tara managed.

Buffy noticed that while she didn’t stutter, Tara was definitely nervous. She wondered if the other woman would have been more comfortable with Willow there, but the other witch had a lab that she couldn’t miss.

Robert served their drinks, then went over to a cabinet and removed a scroll. To Buffy’s eye, it looked heavy and probably important. “This was what I wanted Spike to see. I believe it applies to him—and possibly to you, too, Buffy.”

“A prophecy?” Buffy bit back a groan. “Those never turn out well.”

Robert shrugged. “This one says nothing about death, merely choices, although I suspect that would be enough to cause certain parties to wish Spike dead. It is for that reason I wanted him to see it.”

“Why would anybody want him dead if he hadn’t made a choice yet?” Tara ventured.

Robert fixed her with an intense look. “He represents a wild card, a person who has no real loyalties, either to good or evil.”

“Of course he has loyalties,” Buffy burst out, stung. “Spike is one of the most loyal people I know!”

“You and I know that,” Robert said gently. “I imagine anyone who knows him would agree with us, but those who do not know him, or who do not wish to know him, would not.”

Buffy swallowed, remembering her dream, and her fear. “The Council.”

Robert nodded. “I didn’t want to risk this prophecy getting into the wrong hands, and I don’t have the ability to translate it. The little I know indicates that Spike may be a pivotal figure, but I don’t know more than that.”

“Okay.” Buffy took a deep breath. “I’ll let Spike know about it. Maybe he’ll come back early.”

“Please let me know what you find,” Robert urged. “I’d like to help any way I can.”

“Thank you,” Buffy said sincerely. “We should probably start back soon.”

Robert nodded. “Of course. Do you have time to stay for dinner?”

Buffy’s mouth started watering remembering the last meal she and Spike had eaten there. “I think we have time. Tara?”

The other woman nodded. “Sure.”

Buffy took a deep breath. “Okay. I can call Spike after we get back to Sunnydale.”

With any luck, this would convince Spike to come back immediately.