Under the Sun

Author: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-13

Archive: Sure, if you already have my stuff. If not, just ask.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters herein; Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other lucky folks do. Of course, I'm not the one making money off of them.

Summary: Set after Avocation in an alternate S4 where many events of canon get thrown out the window. This one won't make any sense if you haven't read the previous story.

A/N: The title comes from Ecclesiastes, which most people know from the phrase, "A time for everything, and a season for everything under heaven." Really, this story is based on the entire book, which is probably my favorite in the Bible. It talks about making the most of what one has now, and while some find it depressing, I love it. If you've got the time, I'd really recommend you read the whole thing.

Chapter 28

"Age covers us like drizzle;/time is interminable and sad;/a salt feather touches your face;/a trickle ate through my shirt./Time does not distinguish between my hands/and a flock of oranges in yours:/with snow and picks life chips away/at your life, which is my life./My life, which I gave you, fills/with years like a swelling cluster of fruit./The grapes will return to the earth./And even down there time/continues, waiting, raining/on the dust, eager to erase even absence." ~Pablo Neruda, "Sonnet XCI"

Spike followed Robert inside the palatial house, feeling ill at ease. Being away from Buffy right now was making him just a little bit nervous, and he wondered if Wesley had been able to talk to her, to deliver his message. He'd thought about contacting Cordelia and possibly Harmony while he was in town, but all he really wanted at the moment was to conduct his business and get back to Sunnydale.

"I made some phone calls after you contacted me," Robert was saying, as he led Spike back towards his library. "I have a few friends in government, people who tend to know about this sort of thing. I've done them favors in the past, and so they owe me." He went over to the dry bar stationed on one side of the room. "Drink?"

"Please," Spike replied. "Did they have information?"

"A few snippets," Robert replied. "This project is military funded, but I'm not sure that they're fulfilling their mission. The goal is the protection of humans from specific threats, not turning demons into weapons. There are enough people at the top who realize what a bad idea that would be, particularly when there are those such as you and I who contribute to society."

Spike took the proffered drink, raising an eyebrow. "So you think these soldiers are going outside the scope of their mission?"

"It's entirely possible," Robert acknowledged. "The problem with that, of course, is if the end result is something that is useful, they might allow the project to continue as it has. Such covert projects' ends often justify their means. They'll apologize later, and continue to use demons as they see fit."

"Unless someone does something to stop it," Spike said.

"There is that possibility, of course." Robert sipped his drink, his silver eyes glowing. "Should the project prove untenable and too expensive, it will be shut down. If, however, they provide the government with a source of controllable soldiers, it will be a different story. You understand that if they can find a way to use demons, they will be able to send them on their most dangerous missions, without having to worry about writing home to worried parents. They will be expendable, like ammunition, and they can save their human soldiers for tasks that will bring glory."

Spike slammed the rest of his drink back. "That's what I was afraid of," he said. "Problem is, they've got their hooks into my girl now."

"The Slayer?" Robert asked, looking slightly alarmed. "She's working with them?"

Spike sighed. "She's young and inexperienced, and she thought that she was protecting me."

"That is a problem," Robert said. "If they were able to harness the power of the Slayer, they would be nearly unstoppable."

"They might try, but no one knows how being Chosen actually works," Spike replied. "There are theories, but if anyone knows, it's the Watcher's Council, and they aren't talking. My concern is that they'll decide to take her apart to figure it out."

"I think you are right to be concerned," Robert replied. "I do not know the person in charge of this project, but I think she might be going beyond what she is authorized to do. I am going to continue to talk to friends and others I know who might hold some influence. Perhaps we can take care of this diplomatically. Until then, however, I do not know what to tell you."

Spike's expression was grim. "Until then, we make sure that this project fails miserably, and that it's as expensive as possible to keep it going. We might manage to shut it down that way."

Robert nodded. "Good luck, my friend. If you need a safe haven, you are welcome here."

Spike nodded. "I appreciate it. Let me know if you need anything."

Robert smiled. "You have already done much for me, Spike. It's my honor to return the favor." He paused, adding, "You are a good man, William. We each live in two worlds, and it is a difficult thing at times."

The vampire's face relaxed into a smile. "Thanks, Robert. I should be going. I've got a couple more stops to make."

"Be careful," the half-breed warned.

Spike nodded. "I'll be in touch." He saw himself out, feeling just a little bit better.

~~~~~

Joyce thought she could be forgiven for screaming. After all, it wasn't every day that a person went to sleep next to her lover and woke up lying next to a demon. A big, green demon with horns, no less. She was, however, a fairly intelligent woman, who generally kept her head in the middle of a crisis, and the fact that the demon did not attack her, was holding up its hands in the international gesture of surrender, and was wearing Rupert's pajama bottoms—

Well, it seemed fairly logical to assume that the demon was Rupert.

After she'd calmed down, she ordered the demon to sit down on the bed, which he immediately did. "Are you Rupert?" she demanded when it looked as though the creature understood English, even if what was coming out of its mouth sounded like gibberish. The demon nodded frantically, and Joyce sighed. She hadn't bothered getting the whole story from Giles the night before because she'd been tired and just a little put out with him.

It wasn't that she cared about him spending time drinking with a friend; he was a grown man, and he could do what he liked with his time. She had been concerned, however, and she didn't like waiting up until the early hours of the morning to make sure he was okay.

Really, they both ought to get cell phones. Giles would protest—Luddite that he was—but it only made sense.

"Okay," Joyce said. "I'll call Buffy, and—" Demon-Giles shook his head, speaking quickly. "I can't understand you," she said shortly, glaring at him. "Honestly, Rupert. I can't believe you got yourself into this mess. I'm assuming it had something to do with what you were up to last night."

If a demon could look guilty, this one certainly did. Joyce took his garbled grunt as one of assent. "Fine. I'll call Spike and see if he can't figure this one out." Giles didn't seem ready to protest that one, and Joyce dialed Spike's number.

"'lo?"

"Spike, it's Joyce. I need your help."

"Don't think I need another pep-talk, Joyce, but thanks all the same," Spike replied.

Joyce let out an exasperated sigh. "Quit being a stubborn idiot and listen to me," she said sharply. "Rupert went out drinking with an old friend last night, and he woke up this morning as a demon. He doesn't want me to call Buffy for some reason that I can't fathom, seeing as how I can't understand a word that comes out of his mouth, so I called you."

There was a long pause, and then Spike said quietly. "I'm sorry, luv; that was out of line. I can't make it, though. I had to make a trip to L.A., and I'm right in the middle of some business. Why don't you call Wesley?"

"If you'll give me his number, I will," Joyce replied. "And Spike, why don't you just call Buffy? She'd probably appreciate the phone call."

"I'll think about it," was his noncommittal answer. "Here's Wes's number. I have to get going. I was right in the middle of a meeting when you called."

Joyce took down the number, feeling more than a little frustrated. "Thank you, Spike." She knew she didn't sound terribly sincere.

"I'm sorry I can't be there," he said. "Wish I could, but I need to do this, for Buffy as much as for me. Soon as I get back to town, I promise I'll talk to her, yeah?"

Joyce sighed. "Come by and see me, Spike. I've stocked up on the little marshmallows."

"I could stand some hot chocolate," Spike replied. "I'll see you then."

Joyce hung up the phone and looked at Demon-Giles. "How on earth is it that you men manage to get yourself into trouble every time I turn around?"

Of course, she couldn't really understand his reply.

~~~~~

Wesley still hadn't managed to see Buffy. He'd met Willow and Tara for lunch, with the intention of stopping by to see the Slayer and deliver Spike's letter and message. Buffy was nowhere to be found, however, and after waiting around for a few hours, he'd needed to leave to get a few errands run.

He had asked Willow to call him when Buffy got back in, but she hadn't returned until late that night after participating in a patrol with the Initiative soldiers. Wesley knew that he probably should have been shadowing her, but he'd wanted to speak to her first.

Wesley also wanted to be sure that the soldiers wouldn't shoot first and ask questions later if they saw him.

He had plans on tracking her down that day; Wesley had Spike's compass, and he was prepared to follow her until he had an opportunity to speak with her alone.

In fact, he was just on his way out the door when his cell phone rang. "Hello?"

"Wesley? It's Joyce. I need your help right away. It's Rupert."

Wesley hesitated, torn between finding the Slayer and dealing with this new emergency. "I'll be right over," he promised, finally making up his mind. He quickly dialed the number for the dorm room the girls shared. The phone rang several times before Buffy picked up. "Buffy, it's Wesley. I need to speak with you as soon as possible."

He'd half-expected her to hang up on him, but instead she asked, "When can you be here?"

"I have something to take care of right now," Wesley replied. "Can you meet me at my apartment later this afternoon? I'll call you if this errand takes longer than expected."

There was a pause, and then he heard her sigh. "Is it about Spike?"

"He left something for you," Wesley said. "He wanted me to deliver it personally."

"I'll come after my last class," Buffy replied. "Say, around four?"

"Perfect." With that taken care of, Wesley hopped on his bike for the trip over to the Summers' residence. It seemed he was becoming a rather popular fellow, what with everyone wanting him for something; somehow it only made him feel harried, rather than needed.

He pulled into the driveway, surprised when Joyce came out to meet him. "Rupert is a demon," she warned him.

Wesley blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"I woke up this morning, and there was a demon sharing my bed," Joyce said bluntly. "I knew it was Rupert, and I was going to call Buffy, but he didn't seem to think that was a good idea. When I called Spike, he said he was in L.A. and to call you."

Wesley sighed. This was getting stranger by the moment. "Was Giles able to give any explanation for why he might suddenly wake up as a demon?"

Joyce snorted. "I can't understand a word he's saying, but he came in very late last night, and he said he was drinking with an old friend."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "If that's what happens when Giles drinks with a friend, I'd hate to see him after drinking with an enemy."

"Precisely what I thought," Joyce replied. "I'm hoping that you can understand him well enough to get to the bottom of this. Or figure out how to reverse it. Not that I have anything against demons, but I liked Rupert the way he was."

"Understandable," Wesley replied. "I'll certainly see what I can do. With the Initiative running about, I think it's probably better that he not go out of the house."

"That's what I thought," Joyce said with a satisfied nod.

Wesley rather thought that the older man might be spending some time on the couch when this was all over. When he entered the house, he could immediately see what Joyce was talking about; the most dejected-looking Fyarl he'd ever seen was sitting on the couch, his hands hanging between his knees. Wesley had to bite his lip to keep from laughing; he hadn't known that a Fyarl could look like such a wet blanket.

"Giles?" he called.

The Fyarl's head shot up, and in perfect Fyarl he said, "Wesley, can you understand me? I've been trying to explain what happened to Joyce, but it's impossible. I can't even hold a writing implement!"

Wesley couldn't help it at that point; he burst out laughing, even though he knew it was in bad form. "I'm sorry, Giles," he apologized through his chuckles. "It's just that I've never heard a Fyarl say 'implement' before. Normally they're very focused on smashing things."

Now Giles definitely looked grumpy. "Go ahead and laugh," he said bitterly. "You're not the one stuck like this."

"No, I'm not," Wesley replied. "But I wasn't the one out drinking last night either. Do you know who did this to you?"

"Ethan Rayne," Giles replied with a very Fyarl-like growl. "And when I get my hands on him, I'm going to rip his arms off and beat him to death."

Wesley snickered, then wiped the smile off his face when he saw Joyce's expression. "That sounds more like a Fyarl. I'll find this Rayne character, and haul him back here. I think it would be a very bad idea for you to leave the house; if any of the soldiers were to see you, it would be very difficult to protect you."

"Fine," Giles replied. "But do hurry. I'd like to be able to sleep in my own bed tonight."

Wesley turned to Joyce, who was glaring at demon-Giles with an expression that would have cowed the bravest of men. "You were drinking with Ethan Rayne? I thought you said that you were out with a friend."

Giles seemed to shrink a little. "He had information about the Initiative!"

"Would you mind giving me a hand?" Wesley asked Joyce. "I have to meet your daughter at four, and I'd like to get this taken care of quickly. By the way, Giles said that Rayne had information about the Initiative."

Joyce rolled her eyes and headed back to the kitchen. Wesley offered Giles a conciliatory shrug and followed her. "What are we doing?" she asked.

"Calling the hotels in the area and asking for Ethan Rayne," Wesley replied. "If it turns out he checked in under an assumed name, I'll try something else, but I'm hoping that he wouldn't think of using an alias. I would imagine that he didn't think anyone knew Fyarl."

"How do you know the language?" Joyce asked.

Wesley smiled tightly. "My father believed that I ought to learn as many demon languages as possible. Since Fyarls are often used as foot soldiers, it seemed logical to be able to understand them in case I would have to interrogate one some day. It turns out that he wasn't too far off the mark."

Joyce laid her hand over Wesley's where it rested on the counter. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"It's my pleasure to be able to help," Wesley replied. "Let's see if we can't find out where this Rayne fellow is staying."

~~~~~

Buffy couldn't help but wonder what Wesley wanted, and what kind of message he might have from Spike. It had been several days since she'd seen him, and while this certainly wasn't the first time they'd been separated, it was the first time when they had been fighting.

What if he had decided that he didn't want to be with her anymore? There would be no reason for him to come back to Sunnydale, and every reason to leave; Spike could have decided that it would be easier to start again somewhere else.

Maybe the worst part was that Buffy had actually been looking forward to her birthday this year; Spike had a tendency to be really creative when he wanted to be. Now, with the date only a couple of days away, and no sign of Spike, it looked like she would be spending it without him. Plus no one else had mentioned it, either, and she was beginning to think she'd been forgotten, with everything else going on.

It wasn't anything new, since her birthdays tended to suck, but it still hurt.

Willow was coming in as Buffy was going out. "Are you meeting Riley again?"

Buffy shook her head. "Actually, Wesley wanted to see me. Spike left a message of some kind with him."

"Maybe you guys will finally start talking again," Willow suggested.

Buffy shrugged. "Maybe. I wasn't the one who stopped talking and disappeared, though."

Willow grimaced. "Yeah. Look, Buffy, we were going to throw you a surprise party for your birthday, but I've already talked with Xander and the others. Your mom said she'd make dinner and have a cake for everybody, and we could keep it quiet and off-campus. That way, if Spike can make it, he doesn't have to worry about running into the soldiers."

"I'd appreciate it, Will," Buffy replied. "I just—I don't feel much like celebrating right now."

"I get that," Willow said. "I'll see you later?"

Buffy nodded. "Probably, depending on what comes up tonight."

She headed to Wesley's, the walk giving her time to think. Too much time to think. Buffy felt as though that was all she'd been doing lately—just thinking about everything that had gone wrong, and how to make it better, only to come up empty handed.

Wesley answered the door immediately when she knocked, looking disheveled and out of sorts. "What happened to you?"

He ushered her inside, explaining, "Your mother called me this morning. Apparently, a man named Ethan Rayne managed to turn your Watcher into a Fyarl demon. Since I speak Fyarl, I was able to figure out exactly what happened, and then I had to hunt the man down and drag him back to your house, where I forced him to reverse the spell."

Buffy frowned. "Wait. Giles got turned into a demon and no one called me?"

"He didn't like the idea of you seeing him like that," Wesley explained. "Fyarl demons aren't pretty, and he knew you'd be a bit upset upon finding out that he'd had a few drinks with Rayne."

"A bit upset?" Buffy echoed. "Try really pissed off. How stupid is he? Ethan Rayne turned the whole town into teenagers last year. What did he think was going to happen?"

"I believe Rayne told him that he had information on the Initiative," Wesley replied, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Buffy sounded a lot like Joyce in that moment, who had said something very similar. "And your mother is giving him a tongue-lashing as we speak. She woke up next to him this morning, and I don't think she's going to recover from the shock soon."

Buffy sighed, knowing that she didn't really have room to talk. After all, she was the one who had agreed to work with the Initiative without consulting anyone. "What did Rayne have to say about the Initiative?"

"I don't know. I think Giles wanted to talk to you about that tomorrow night." Wesley gave her a sympathetic smile. "I heard it was your birthday."

"Some birthday," Buffy muttered. She looked over at him. "Is Spike going to be in town?"

"I don't know," Wesley admitted. "He didn't know how long this trip was going to take. Spike asked me to give you this, though." When her ex-Watcher handed her a sealed envelope, Buffy held it for a long moment. "I think I'm supposed to be here when you open it," Wesley said gently. "Spike asked me to look after you."

Buffy nodded slowly and tore it open, quickly scanning the page before starting to read again, this time more slowly.

"Dear Buffy," she read silently. "I know I won't be in town for your birthday. Wish it could be different, but I think our focus has to be on the Initiative right now. I'm working out a few things in L.A., trying to come up with a way to stop them, and some means to keep you safe. I don't want you hurt. I know you decided to work with the soldiers because you didn't have all the information, and you wanted to keep me safe. I know you weren't trying to betray me, but that's what it felt like, and I needed to get away for a bit until I sorted things out for myself.

"I asked Wes to look out for you while I'm out of town. If you go out with the soldiers, I'd ask that you let him tag along, out of sight. I want someone I trust watching your back, if I can't be there to do it myself.

"I'll see you when I get back into town, and we'll talk then. I don't know what this means, love. I don't know if I can be with someone who's working for the Initiative. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger for you. All my love, Spike."

Buffy swallowed hard. "I don't know that I have a choice about working with the Initiative right now, Wesley. It's not like a class that I can drop."

"I know," he said gently. "I think that's one of the things that Spike's afraid of, that you'll find yourself in too deep, with no one to pull you out."

Buffy folded Spike's note carefully. "You can come with me," she said slowly. "But I want you to stay out of sight. I don't want you hurt. I don't think I could... You'll be careful?"

"Of course," Wesley replied. "That's the whole idea."

She nodded, hoping that Spike's concern meant that he wasn't quite ready to give up on their relationship yet, because she certainly wasn't.