The Crypt: Tempus de Muto by Schehrezade

Tempus de Muto

Disclaimer - They ain't mine but I gets to play with them!!

Many many thanks to Lmbossy and megan_peta for all their betaing wonderfulness *hugs* am still chuffed to bits that Megan liked the Anya bits!!!

Kristin is still a wee bit of a mystery but all will be revealed in the final section of the fic I promise.

Italics=thoughts

Chapter 26

Tara stood up, shielding her eyes from the sudden glare of light and stared in shock at the blossoming orange burst of flames that erupted from the building in the near distance. Her jaw dropped in astonishment as the peaceful London night was disrupted by the sound of the blast. It echoed through the quiet streets with a resonating boom. She thought she could vaguely hear the tinkling of glass as it hit the pavement and her eyes widened as the flames licked up around the edges of the building and burned brightly.

The shocked Wiccan screamed her head off in fright as a dark shadow erupted from the rotunda as if propelled by magic and landed nimbly in front of her. Tara clutched at her throat and stood there shivering. "Jeez, guys, give me a warning or something..." .

"Sorry, pet. Needed to get out of Watcherdom pretty sharpish. Heard some dozy guard coming and then an explosion." Spike straightened up and let Buffy slide off his back. He reached out and grasped Tara's clammy, shaking hands, his face softening with concern. "You okay?"

Tara pulled one hand free and smacked him gently on the chest. "Goddess no! You scared ten years off my life with the whole leaping out from behind me. That and the big explosion over there, combined with breaking and entering—my nerves are shot. If I wasn't teetotal I would be stealing that flask of yours and hiding in the closet calming my self down!"

Spike gave her a boyish grin. "How's about we get back to the hotel? I'll order up a nice cuppa of herb tea for you. Leave the hard stuff to the ones with a vamp constitution, yeah?" He reached over and smoothed a lock of flaxen hair that had fallen across her forehead back off her face. "M'sorry for scaring the knickers off you, love." He cocked his head and gave her a soft smile of apology.

Buffy slid an arm around Tara's waist. "Spike's vampy hearing was all keyed in to the bang, hence with the vamp on acid impersonation. I think he kinda freaked Kristin out with the climbing up the walls and bouncing around like a gymnast on steriods...wait! Most of them are!" She gave Tara a reassuring hug. "Where was the boom?"

Tara pointed westwards. "Some high rise just over there. It was really loud."

Spike cocked his head and scanned the horizon. He watched the flames flicker out, leaving the gaping maws of the windows exposed to the air, their glass blown out. "Looks like some sort of motel or something."

Tara shivered; it felt as if someone had walked over her grave. She wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to calm her nerves.

"Come on. Let's get you birds back to the hotel and we can have a ponder over the loot, rusty bits and all."

"Oh, did you find something?" Tara asked, hope filling her that they were finally making some progress. They had the orbs and a few to spare incase of breakage for the ritual, and now the rest of the spell.

All they needed was...Willow.

She bit her lower lip and tried not to let tears fill her eyes. Tara wasn't looking forward to seeing her Willow tree again. Too much had happened, so many changes and she had no doubts that the sweet girl that she had fallen for had probably been transformed beyond her wildest and most terrified imaginings. She had spent many a night since she had run off with the magic peddler wondering what Willow had become and what she had been doing. It was getting to the point where sleep was something that was a mystery to her and it was only through meditation that she managed to get some rest. Tara had no doubts that the Willow that had voluntarily joined up with that dirty magic dealer would be far removed from the bubbly innocence that had drawn her to the redhead in the first place. It was a confrontation she was part dreading and partly aching for. She missed Willow, but didn't want to witness the complete corruption of her girlfriend—but she would if it meant saving Dawn.

"Yeah, pet, but let's get moving before someone catches us up here. We'll have a show and tell back at our digs." Spike coiled up the rope and levered the domed glass window back down. He pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned off the area. Tara forced herself away from her maudlin thoughts and helped Buffy stow the climbing equipment that they had used into the backpacks. There would be time for recriminations and reflections later. Right now they had to get Dawn back.

The three of them slipped off into the night, leaving no clues as to their passage into the heart of the Watcher's Council.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mama, I've found him." She sat in the shadows, unwilling to turn on any of her lights, her thoughts clouded by the recent discovery that would change her present plans. The solitary dark figure was curled up on the edge of a sofa and toying with the telephone cord as she listened to her mother's voice. Her nerves were shattered and her body poised for action; all she needed was the go ahead from her family and their vendetta could be finally set in motion.

"It was pure chance, but I have a bead on the bastard. What do you want me to do?"

There was a long pause as the woman on the other end of the line conferred with several others in the family. All of them agreeing on one point. Vengeance would be theirs.

It was time to act. Family blood had been spilled, pure innocence had been destroyed and there had to be a reckoning.

"Okay, Mama. We'll set off after him. Can the others meet up with us when we get there?" The shadowy figure nodded in relief. "Good, cos there is no way I am taking them down on my own."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He rolled over onto his side and watched her sleeping face. Spike grinned as Buffy smacked her lips and emitted a teeny snore. Not that he would ever admit to hearing one escaping from her luscious lips—he liked his bits attached just the way they were, thank you very much. If there was one thing he had learned about his Slayer, it was that she was a girly girl—despite her proclivity for shiny weapons—and being told she snored would lead to him having a smashed nose, or worse. Spike smirked, leant over and brushed a soft kiss on the tip of her nose.

Settling his head deeper in the goose down pillow, he sighed contentedly. Despite everything, he wouldn't change a thing. He was still in awe over how his unlife had shifted from being an isolated loner to one half of a contented couple. He had family and friends – hell, he had even made it up with Peaches, and once they had the Platelet back, everything would be just right.

The bank of windows behind him were open to let in some air, and he could hear the ever-present rumble of traffic and the hum of electricity that was the way of life in London. So unlike the familiar silence of the Victorian era that he had been accustomed to, where all he had heard were the occasional horse and carriage and the more sedentary day to day lives of 'The Old Smoke's' inhabitants. In the distance he heard the faint sound of a church bell as it chimed the half hour. Spike shivered slightly as the sun rose. Despite his Dawn induced sun proofing, the demon within recognised its most deadly enemy and liked to send a faint reminder to its host.

He propped his head up with one hand and let the other ghost over Buffy's slim body; she slept curled on her side facing him, her hands tucked under her chin and giving her a childlike innocence that took his breath away. Spike let his hand settle around her waist, his fingers gently circling her soft skin as he pulled her to him and tucked her into his arms. He rested his chin on the crown of her head and stared at the mess on the table near the bed. On their return to the hotel, they had spent several fruitless hours trying to work out what the pierced metal plaque did. In the end they had scanned it and emailed an image to Wes in Sunnydale, hoping he would have better luck working it out.

Spike sighed and snuggled his girl as close as he could, revelling in her sleep warmed body and the gentle pressure of her bare breasts on his chest. Buffy had taken to sleeping naked easily and the two of them wrapped around each other nightly, pale arms wrapped around sleek golden curves as they slept.

The contemplative vampire ran over the series of events from the previous nights. The Watcher girl was hiding something. He had begun to feel his bullshitometer tweaking when he and the girls had discussed the tattoo, but there was something else, a change in her heartbeat when Buffy had mentioned the dodgy magic dealer. Spike couldn't quite put his finger on in, but he was on guard now, ready for anything.

Deep down he knew this stolen moment of intimate bliss was probably the calm before the storm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Travers sat in his chauffeur driven Bentley and watched in stunned silence as the endless train of black body bags were carried out of the burnt shell of the motel in Earls Court. His face was as impassive as ever as the sad products of Rack and Willow's cruel actions were piled into coroner's vans and driven swiftly away. The news had covered the so-called gas blast from the moment the place had exploded. The old Watcher thanked his lucky stars that the Council had an insider at the BBC who could control the flow of information to the general public.

He sighed, his face lined with worry and glanced over at the bandaged man who was slumped on the seat opposite him. "We failed."

"No, Travers, I did, again... I truly am sorry." Cavanaugh coughed and grimaced as his shattered ribs ground together. A small trickle of blood seeped out of the corner of his mouth; he raised a shaking hand and blotted the crimson fluid on the dressing covering the burns.

"They set traps; it wasn't something we were expecting. All those poor innocents..." Travers pressed a black-gloved hand to the window and watched as a small body bag containing what could only be a child was carried out and reverently set down on a waiting trolley. He bowed his head and offered a silent prayer for the lost soul. His shoulders hunched slightly as yet another burden of guilt was placed on them.

"I'll start tracking them immediately and get onto their trails," Cavanaugh promised as he took a hitching breath. He glanced down at the still taken from Heathrow's CCTV cameras of Rack and the fallen Wiccan and tried not to shiver in revulsion. "Any idea which flight they took out?"

"As far as we can tell it's Italy. She threw up a cloaking spell and they vanished. I have agents working on their destination as we speak," Travers answered as he stared unblinkingly out of the window. Another body had been found and was being carried out.

"Right, I'll get onto it. I'm going in solo this time." Cavanaugh had lost five of his most trusted men and wasn't going to let anyone else die on his watch. He shifted position slightly and took the uppermost black and white shot. Rack was in profile, but the pale face of the witch was central to the shot, her thin lips curved in a knowing smile as if she knew she were being watched. She stood next to a pile of luggage, including several trunks. Her thin form was dressed in a firmly cinched black velvet corset, pushing her small breasts upwards and presenting them for view; she had on a tight pair of velvet hot pants and her skinny legs were covered in black fishnets that sagged slightly at the knees, her feet clad in heavy black Doc Martin boots that laced up to just below her knees. Her stringy greasy red hair was swirling around her head as she was caught mid spin, a few strands whipping across her pallid visage. If either of the men had been present in Sunnydale a few years ago then they would have wondered about whether or not the witch had been vamped, her outfit was so similar to the one her alter ego had worn from the other dimension. Though they were different, the evil inherent within the women was similar in strength and viciousness.

The retired watcher groaned, his muscles twitching in complaint at the sudden move to pick up the photograph. He needed to get to a healer to have his wound bespelled away and then he would start tracking the two murdering magic users. There would be a reckoning.

"What of Giles?" Travers asked wearily. "Any news?"

"Don't know, sir. He was missing when I woke up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's what cats do," Anya muttered under her breath, her flawless impersonation of Wesley's accent going unnoticed by the two men working in the dining room of the Summers house. "So what if he is an annoyingly handsome Pierce Brosnan look-alike? Humph, men!" She had spent the day at The Magic Box, mixing and pounding away in a bowl preparing for the evening's fun and games with Buffy and Dawn's felines. "Those furballs are up to something and I am going to find out what it is tonight. Even if it kills me!" She sat perched on the bottom step of the stairs waiting for the kittens to appear.

Wesley peered over the top of his laptop and looked nervously at his research partner. "Is she still talking to herself?" he hissed at Groo. The Champion from Pylea nodded. "Damn, I really should've been a bit less dismissive last night." Wesley's shoulders slumped slightly. Having spent the day listening to her mutter and mumble under her breath, he was feeling more than a little shamefaced and, to be honest, a bit worn out.

"Indeed. She seems to have taken it to heart." Groo watched as the file Spike had emailed them downloaded with avid curiosity; his technological learning curve was on a steep rise since he had followed Spike and Buffy to the Hellmouth. In the past few weeks he had learned more than he had in the month he'd dwelled in Los Angeles, and from what he had witnessed, he liked this strange new world. And he especially liked his friends, both near and far.

Wesley watched Anya shift her weight and cross her ankles, her hands clutching the leather pouch containing whatever it was she had mixed up. From across the room he could tell it smelled of wildflowers, almonds and ground sugar—a bit like her, he mused. His usually sombre expression softened slightly as the ex-demoness muttered under her breath and twitched at the floaty chiffon skirt that she wore. Her eyes darting around searching for any sign of the moggies, she ducked her head slightly and a bright blonde curl curved around her slim neck. Wes moved slightly in his seat, and a burst of warmth filled his stomach at the sight of her lightly tanned skin.

"There you are, you rotten feline. Shame on you for making me wait so long." Anya managed to refrain from clapping her hands. She had learnt the hard way earlier when the ginger kitten had appeared, hissed at her and then turned tail and ran when she heard the sound of clapping. "Now get on with the ritual you have established so I can show that silly Englishmen up." She made a shooing gesture with one hand and then bounced in her seat in anticipation.

William ignored the loud woman, his attention focused on the hunt. His little hackles rose as the sensation of being watched filled his small body. Slowly he padded into the sitting room, tiny growls erupting from him, the fur on his spine rising in a ridge and his tail fluffing out. He came to a halt, his bright eyes staring unblinkingly at the fireplace. He bared his teeth and hissed loudly. He was so focused on his prey that he didn't hear Anya rush in.

"Ah hah!" Anya yelled and threw the contents at the fireplace. There was a flash of blue light and two figures were revealed. "Ahhhh!!! Ugly and slimy!" She screamed, pointed and lurched backwards as the spell exposed to her the interlopers which the kittens had sensed since the moment they had come into the house a few weeks ago. William hissed and ran for the stairs, closely followed by his sister.

Wes and Groo leapt to their feet, hands automatically reaching for weapons at the sound of her screams. The image they had been waiting to download opened unnoticed as they stormed into the living room, Groo swirling an axe over his head as Wesley held up two revolvers in front of him. Both men ducked around Anya's still form and stood in front of her protectively.

"Good lord!" Wesley grimaced at the slimy puddles on the floor by the hearth.

The two translucent figures of the spies sent by Lilah coalesced into a solid form.

"They are truly unattractive." Groo raised his axe and moved forward to kill the demons.

"Wait!" Anya shrieked. "No slicing and dicing."

He froze mid swing.

Anya peered around Wesley. "Matilda? Dilbert? Is that you?"

Wesley's jaw dropped as he turned his head to look at Anya in shock. "Now hang on a minute, you know them?" The guns in his hands remained trained unwaveringly on the two demons—despite the bizarre distraction—while the scar on his neck stood out vividly in it's redness as his skin tried to accommodate the sudden twisting.

Anya straightened up and patted her curls back into place. Dignity restored, she tip-toed around Wesley and, cautiously keeping Groo's strong body between her and the stationary demons, she took a long look. "It is you; I haven't seen either of you since you were spawned. Does your mother know you are creeping around mortal's houses spying on them?" She crossed her arms and tilted her head to one side. "Shame on you both! I cannot believe you would sink so low as to be peeping Toms. Even if it is for money." Bravely, she stepped around Groo, reached up and grasped hold of what appeared to be ears and pulled both demons along with her as she made for the door. She appeared to be having a silent conversation with them; they were gesturing and shrugging as they followed meekly along.

The two men watched amused at the sight of the diminutive woman pulling the two massive yet silent demons along in her wake like recalcitrant children. "I really am disappointed in you both. How can you work for that firm? They never pay their debts and as for their benefits for retiring employees, why do you think D'Hoffryn's girls are always popping in and out casting vengeance curses?" She tutted at them both and gave their ears a good twist to emphasise her disappointment in the two of them.

"Anya?" Wesley stepped forward and pointed at the two demons. "What on earth is going on?"

"These two are in a world of trouble! When I call their mama they will be grounded for at least a decade!" Anya exclaimed.

"Indeed, however could you explain who or what they are? I believe you called them Matilda and Dilbert?" Wes pushed his glasses up his nose and stared unblinkingly at the incongruous trio standing by the front door.

Anya released her hold on the demons ears and smacked them both on the shoulder. "Tell the nice man why you have been spying on him and make sure you apologise adequately." She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a high-heeled foot impatiently. "Do not make me summon your father, you know what he will do to you both," she threatened as the demons remained mute.

Groo stepped closer to Wesley; they stood shoulder to shoulder facing the shimmering demons and the exasperated woman.

"Apologiessss." The demon named Dilbert bowed at Wes. "The one named Lilah, hired ussss to watch over you and report back to her." He edged away from Anya closer to his sibling and ducked his head down in shame.

Wesley's blood chilled at the mention of the manipulative lawyer who he'd thought had been left behind in LA. "I beg your pardon? You say that appalling woman sent you to follow me here?"

"Yesss," Matilda replied, looking extremely sheepish for a seven-foot near-transparent demoness. She shifted from webbed-foot to webbed-foot, her embarrassment apparent to all of them.

"I see, and now?" Wes cringed at the clipped tone of his voice; it sounded all too like his father's and that annoyed him no end. He really had to learn not to do that; his father was a reprehensible man and there was no way he wanted to resemble him in any way or form.

"We will offer reparation and return to our pod." Derek bowed and then glanced over at Anya, hoping that his proposition would appease her and delay the call to their progenitor.

"Not before I tell your mother the truth about your recent adventures! Really, after that incident with the liner and the iceberg I would have thought you would have learned your lesson... But the reparation will be good. And no more mixing with lawyers, you know they are beneath you. The worst kind of scum in all the universes. I am just so ashamed for your poor parents; just wait till you are both grounded. Now get home and no more playing with Wolfram and Hart minions." She shooed them out of the house and then turned triumphantly to face the two silent men.

"See, I told you those kittens were up to something!" She nodded her head and marched off into the kitchen to make her promised call. "Very intelligent felines, much moreso than silly men."

"She's incredible." Wesley blinked.

"Indeed my friend, she is..."

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was freezing cold and dark.

All he could hear was the steady thrum of engines and nothing else.

He shivered and tried to move, but the tiny space he had been crammed into was too confining. His body screamed in pain; he could feel dried blood on his forehead and various parts of his anatomy were burning with open wounds.

Giving up on escaping his claustrophobic prison, he let oblivion claim him.

It was better to sleep through all this.

Much better...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anya placed the receiver down gently and turned around. She watched as Wesley methodically went through the motions of preparing a pot of tea. He really was a dear man, so set in his ways in some instances and then in others he shocked the g-string off her – well if she wore them he would.

"There, now those two will not get away with anymore of that nonsense. Their mama is furious with them. I swear I heard her lower gills flap when she yelled at them."
"Well, that's an image that will stay with me, and I'll wager that is not something that a person forgets easily." Wesley measured out some loose tea leaves and grimaced at Anya.

"Are you going to recover from the shock of being watched in the bathtub by those two rascals?" Anya asked, the expression on her face quizzical.

"What?!" Wes's shoulders hunched as his jaw dropped in horror and he spluttered his dismay. "They saw me naked? With bubbles...I feel so violated."

"There there." Anya came over and patted him on the shoulder. "Tilda was very impressed with your..."

"Don't say it, please," Wesley begged abruptly as his cheeks flushed bright red. Though he burned with embarrassment, part of him was filled with a smidge of pride that the demon had been impressed with his wedding tackle.

"I was only going to say, impressed with your repertoire of Kylie songs that you sing to yourself in the shower." Anya's eyes twinkled mischievously as she snuck a look at his slacks and wondered if Matilda had been exaggerating.

"Ah, I see." He busied himself with pouring the boiled water into the teapot and leaving it to steep.

"Now, come here and stop being silly." Anya reached over and cupped his cheek with her hand and gently pulled Wes around to face her. She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft questioning kiss to his lips.

Wesley's hands dropped to her waist and he tugged her gently against him as he let himself be lost in their first kiss. She was soft and pliant in his arms and she fit so well against him. He sighed against her mouth and let his tongue trace around the edges before he dipped it in to taste her. Dimly in the distance, he could hear Groo praising the two kittens for their bravery and cleverness. But he wasn't interested, not when Anya was twining her arms around his neck and curling one leg around his. The pleasant haze of desire and excitement was broken when Groo finally called for them.

"Come see the image that Spike sent. I have witnessed its type before."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The brief email from Spike had read – "No idea what the bastard thing is. Thought you might have a gander before the Slayer rips me a new one. She's already crushed my nuts with the sodding abseiling I had to do. Save this vamp anymore torture and work it out, Watcher. PS Had a Newkie Brown for you; sodding stuff was as piss poor as the beer out in the Colonies."

"So we're agreed?" Anya leant over Wes's shoulder, her face intent on the image of the pierced metal plaque that Spike and the others had liberated from the Watchers Council library. Her hand rested on his shoulder as she glanced over at Groo for his assent. Wesley looked up at her slightly swollen lips and licked his own. The memory of their softness teased his senses as he tried to focus on the situation at hand.

"I think so; it's obviously a cipher decoder. If they place it over the pages in the book that smelly little demon gave Tara, then it should spell something out. Not the most practical of things, but effective." Wesley nodded in approval and quickly typed a response to send back to the vampire.

"All done." Wesley sighed contentedly and then hesitated, remembering he still had to deal with Lilah.

"Why are you creasing your forehead up? You will get wrinkles if you do that often." Anya reached around and tried to smooth them off.

"It's Lilah, what shall I do about her?"

Anya shrugged. "Oh, its okay. I sent a Howler demon to her office to deliver a rude message and also to decline her offer of working for them. I mean, honest to goodness, what was she thinking trying to recruit such a brave and noble man? As if you would ever join up with that lot. They eat their young over there. By the time Thermion is finished with that lawyer she will get the point, and leave you in peace." She grinned wickedly. "Especially when she is stuck with it for the next six months. Do you know how much noise they make? The shedding of scales is pretty much continuous as well – what a mess that will be. Oh, and the smell doesn't bear thinking about!"

"Thank you," Wesley stuttered, amazed at her actions. "You're incredible, you know."

"Thank you." Anya smiled primly and pecked him on the cheek. "Now off you both go and kill something for me. Neither of you have patrolled in all the excitement."

The two men rose and headed out.

"Don't forget to take your daggers. You might need to gut something," she called cheerily after them as they headed out into the night.