Origins: Resolutions by Niamh

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Chapter 17: a dragon or a tiger

Author's Notes: A/N: I’m trying to get this finished, work on the two as-of-yet still unposted stories, find the ambition to work on the comedy I have in my head, get somewhere on the next chapter of Safe in my own Skin, and find the ambition to work on my original fiction. And keep my stressful job. I need a vacation. A long one. To my reviewers – my heartfelt thanks to everyone still sticking with me on this really long ride; and yes, Kathy, I have been really down in the dumps, mainly over the lack of response to this fic, and my others. *sighs* And as far as the pop culture references? Obviously only a few of you care, since hardly anyone’s made any mention of them, but they’re still there. Lady Yashka, you are completely correct on the Coraline/Gaiman reference! So glad someone picked up on that. Rosemaree!!!! Good on you for getting the Bay City Rollers mention! LOL! They were big as hell when I was a pre-teen. . . and believe it or not, I went directly from them to punk rock. What a sea change for my parents (and friends). Title and quotes are as attributed and my eternal thanks always to Tam and Addie, without whom I’d still be mired knee-deep in both Baby Love and Revelations. . . . And the lousy rotten disclaimers are still keeping me in the poorhouse. Darn.

Previously: Riley finally got moving, and the Initiative boys are on the move; Quentin Travers is not a happy man; Nicholson is just as concerned; and the new and improved Scoobies are all waiting – not all of them patiently.

Book Three

Chapter Seventeen A dragon or a tiger

Enemies and lovers are destined to meet.
Chinese proverb.

Neutral men are the devil's allies.
Edwin Hubbel Chapin

One may draw a dragon or a tiger,
but it is hard to draw their skeletons;
one may know a person’s face
but it is hard to know his heart.
Chinese proverb.

We are a kind of Chameleons,
taking our hue - the hue of our moral character,
from those who are about us.
John Locke



It was hard watching him, she decided, knowing this was all her own fault. This whole mess with Riley returning and shaking things up was all because she’d opened up her big mouth and babbled. Knowing that they’d exhausted every other recourse and they – Giles, Wesley and Spike – were hesitant about calling the Initiative didn’t really help her cause. Buffy knew Spike was fighting aggravation and a whole host of other emotions he’d been shielding from her. But she knew. She could feel it.

He wasn’t happy.

Not about any of this.

He was outwardly the picture of calm, except for the constant tapping of his foot and the occasional tremor in his hands. But she could sense the banked anger swirling under the surface just waiting for the match to set off the flaming inferno within him.

One of the babies kicked hard, forcing an involuntary wince, which Spike, of course, noticed. Usually, he’d be right at her side, his fingers tapping out a rhythm known only to him and the babies that somehow managed to ease the worst of the kicking, but now he hesitated. They had only moments before Riley and Graham walked through the door, and the last thing Spike wanted was to blow the flimsy cover they had going.

The foot or the elbow bounced harder against her insides a second time. Buffy actually yelped, the sound drawing everyone’s attention. “Owie!”

Her reaction was enough to goad Spike into moving, although his hesitation ripped through her. She didn’t like it, his holding back. It was wrong, and despite knowing why he was doing it, it hurt. Hurt more than she liked. Feeling rejected to the tips of her toes, Buffy made a split second decision.

It really didn’t matter if Riley found out, not to her. She wasn’t in the mood to stroke his ego; hadn’t been over a year ago when he’d issued his ultimatum putting all the responsibility on her for their broken relationship. She hadn’t been the one cheating. It wasn’t her fault he felt so inadequate and sought out what was missing from vampire sluts. But it would be her fault if Spike was hurt. And while he’d no doubt forgive her, Buffy wasn’t so sure she’d forgive herself.

He was hovering at her side, attention torn between her obvious growing distress and the soon to arrive soldiers, his hands itching to reach for her. Buffy grumbled softly, grabbing his hand and placing it on the rounded curve of her belly. Spike, jerked off balance a bit, given her accidental display of strength, caught himself before he landed in a heap on the floor next to her.

With his hand firmly captured against her belly, Spike stared into her eyes. “Kitten?”

“Don’t wanna hide. Don’t care if he knows.” A soft pout bloomed across her features and she stretched toward him.

Spike dropped down to crouch beside her, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her belly. “You sure?”

The uncertainty in his voice was her undoing. Big, fat tears formed in her eyes and the lump in her throat prevented her from speaking, though the emphatic nodding of her head clued him in to how serious she was. A slow smile blossomed across his lips and he tipped his head toward her. Buffy scooted forward, her movements eased when Spike wrapped his hands around her hips and pulled her closer. Her forearms draped over his shoulders and the fingers of one hand dug into his curls, loosening the gel constraining them. Spike dropped a kiss on her belly, one hand tapping out the mysterious rhythm. The responding thumps from inside her made Buffy sigh with exasperated happiness.

Her softly whispered ‘I love you’ was drowned out by the bell over the door, signaling the arrival of Riley and his sidekicks; but Spike heard her anyway. He stared at her for a long minute, ignoring everyone around them.

“With all m’heart, Slayer, even if it doesn’t beat.”

She squeezed his free hand, letting him stand to face the soldiers.

To say that Leslie McKeown was surprised to hear Nicholson’s voice was perhaps an understatement; enough so that he barely registered the other man’s request. Nicholson had to repeat himself three times before McKeown reacted, the exasperation finally clear to the Scot.

“You want me to what?”

“Get your head out of your ass, would you? Need you to dig up intelligence on the names I’m going to fax to you. The gaffer wants this right away.”

“You told the old man?” The fax line behind him rang to life, a single page coming through. “What is this?”

“The Initiative is back in Sunnydale. Apparently a unit has been dispatched. Travers wants C.V. on those names.”

“We’ve already got a file on the first and second names.” McKeown read through the list, recognizing two of the former ranking officers within the Sunnydale operation. “Ah, also have a bit of intel on the doctor.”

Preparing to ring off, Nicholson replied, “Send whatever you have.”

“Will do.”

He hung up the phone, shaking his head, only to find himself the object of intense scrutiny by his boss.

“How soon can we expect a response?”

“We already have files on three of the men in the Initiative unit. That should be coming over via fax shortly.”

“Good.” Travers leaned down, blocking the aisle from any unwanted interruptions. “Have you gotten through to the Defence Minister yet?”

“No, sir. He’s not at the office. They’re going to ring back as soon as they get him on a secured line.”

Staring pensively at the blank interior bulkhead of the plane, Travers mulled over the situation in his head. There were so many possible explanations for the Initiative’s renewed presence in Sunnydale; none of which pleased him. He’d thought when they’d destroyed the Lowell House base that the Initiative would have heeded the warnings issued by the Defence Minister and stayed away from the active hellmouths. While Cleveland, London and New York weren’t as active as Sunnydale, they were far from dormant, and all were manned by wetworks teams. Solidifying his earlier decision, Travers spoke somewhat absently to Nicholson. “Activate the New York team and have them on the next plane.”

“Sir?” Nicholson had his hand on the phone before he realized the implications of that order.

“I’d rather be cautiously prepared. These Initiative operatives might only be the overt operation. There is a distinct possibility that we could be outnumbered, and without sufficient back-up.”

“Two Slayers isn’t enough?”

“One Slayer is not in a position to be fighting. And we have the added hindrance of the vampire being unable to assist.”

Nicholson gaped in disbelief at his superior. “Unable to assist? You expect William the Bloody to assist?”

Travers leaned forward, staring intently into Nicholson’s surprised blue eyes. “Yes, I do. That’s his child. I don’t doubt for an instant he wouldn’t do his utmost to protect both mother and child. Not to mention the younger Miss Summers.”

The older man straightened up, fixing his vest and tie. “Really, Nicholson, you must learn to disseminate your information better.”

With that cryptic comment, Travers left him to make his way back to his seat. Halfway down the aisle, Travers stopped and looked back over his shoulder. “How long until we touch down?”

Snapping out of his confusion, Nicholson glanced down at his watch. “In little over two hours, sir.”

“Good. Have the New York team in the air by then.”

Contrary to what Graham had thought and nearly accused him of, Riley hadn’t spent the whole time deliberately delaying the meeting because he was avoiding. Or brooding. He’d been giving serious thought to everything the Doctor Kramer had spoken to him about. Everything. And he’d used the delay to go over every piece of information they had on the vampire.

Riley hadn’t bothered to read up on Spike’s history when he’d been captured. At the time it hadn’t been an issue. The vampires were nothing more than demons, fodder for the tests and experiments conducted by the scientific branch of the Initiative. Their history began and ended with their capture. It was only after Spike’s escape that the soldiers had been briefed on his background and identity, and even then only the most senior officers. Somehow, either by torture – or more likely through drugs – Maggie Walsh had been able to discover Spike’s identity. From there, she’d somehow managed to gather something of a dossier on him, which had survived the destruction of the Lowell House operation.

Afterwards, while he and Buffy had been dating, he’d gone through some of the books at Giles’ apartment. What he’d found in the pages had defied the first-hand knowledge he had of Spike. The Spike he knew was a jerk; useless, aggravating and irritating. Nowhere near the deadly vampire the Watchers claimed he was. Riley had felt, at the time that there had been way too much exaggeration in the books. There was no way the vampire he knew could have performed that kind of destruction. And claiming he’d killed two Slayers? That was beyond unbelievable.

Even now he had trouble believing that Spike would pose much of a threat. Nor did he believe for one second that Giles was one-hundred percent behind a relationship – if there actually was one – between Spike and Buffy. He couldn’t imagine that the older man would ever approve of such a thing. And if he and the doctor were right, and Spike was the father of Buffy’s babies, then the first person he’d talk to about Buffy and her situation would be Giles.

He had planned on being a little late to the meeting, at most a half hour, but he’d gotten so lost in the records and reports of Spike’s tests and his reactions to the chip that he’d lost track of time. Once he’d realized just how late they were, he’d shrugged off his training and deliberately kept on reading, mulling over the scenarios in his head. And maybe Graham was a little bit right; he’d thought about coming back and rescuing Buffy, or having her welcome him back with enthusiasm., hopeful that the time apart had given her a chance to re-assess their relationship. Riley wasn’t going to pretend that part of him hadn’t hoped for something like that, which just made the reality that much harder to swallow.

Seeing the opposite had thrown him for a loop. Caught him off-guard, and Riley wasn’t exactly sure how to deal with a Buffy who very clearly didn’t need him at all. Hadn’t even missed him. He wondered, not for the first time, if she had even noticed he was gone. It was a sobering thought and one he was reluctant to face. He’d always known he was more invested in the relationship than Buffy was, he just hadn’t realized how much. The knowledge didn’t make it any easier to tolerate.

She’d moved on. Moved on to what, he wasn’t exactly sure. At least not yet. Walking beside Graham toward the Magic Box, Riley was determined that he’d know before they were done with this farce of a meeting.

And once he did know, then he’d make a decision on what to do.

Sharing a last look with Graham, Riley pushed open the door to the Magic Box. The overhead bell rang softly and he looked around, scoping out who was present. Giles, Dawn, Tara, and the taller, younger Englishman were engaged in idle chatter; not a one of them flinched on his arrival. Anya was behind the counter, counting the till.

Riley let his eyes sweep the area again and stiffened.

Buffy was sitting at the table with Spike practically on his knees in front of her, their arms wrapped around each other.

He had his answer.

Dawn covered up her sudden case of nerves by babbling helplessly at Tara, who was only half-listening. She couldn’t figure out why she was suddenly unable to contain her anxiety, but Dawn had the inexplicable feeling that everything was about to go south. From the corner of her eye, she could see Spike and Buffy lost in their own moment, which wasn’t all that unusual, though she could’ve sworn they were trying to keep Riley in the dark. What the hell are they doing? Not now. . . let go, he’s gonna walk in the door any second and . . . oh, God. He’s gonna know and then it’s all gonna –

She grimaced, an expression that didn’t go unnoticed by Wesley, who tried to smile reassuringly, even as he grappled with his own apprehensions. Distraction wasn’t working for either of them.

It wasn’t working for Giles or Tara. Or Oz. The only one remotely calm was Anya, but then again, she was knuckles deep in the cash till counting money, something that never failed to calm her nerves. Giles shot a look at his beloved, a reluctant grin lighting his features as she checked and re-checked the day’s invoices.

Buffy had just leaned forward to kiss Spike when the bell over the door rang, signaling the long delayed arrival of Riley Finn and his fellow officers. The volume of Dawn’s voice increased exponentially, although the laughter greeting her comment was, at best, forced, it served its purpose, distracting the military men long enough for the two blonds to separate.

Unfortunately, their embrace didn’t go completely unnoticed.

Riley’s posture stiffened further and a look of such distaste crossed his features that it caused Wesley and Giles to exchanged worried glances. As unobtrusively as possible, Oz eased his chair down, his eyes steadily on the two soldiers.

Buffy, easily sensing the tension, looked over Spike’s head to greet Riley. “You’re kinda late.”

“Couldn’t be helped.” Her former boyfriend’s tone and demeanor were frosty, his grey eyes flinty. “I had some unexpected meetings that couldn’t be avoided.”

“You were so tied up in meetings that you couldn’t call or have Graham call?” Buffy put emphasis on the word meetings that Riley hadn’t, and a very faint snort of amusement erupted from both Dawn and Spike.

If anything, Riley’s demeanor grew colder and he didn’t bother hiding his disdain. “Not that I owe you an explanation, but when my superior officers contact me, it takes precedence over anything else.”

Spike gracefully got to his feet, one hand extended to help Buffy to hers. “So that’s a big no. So much for common courtesy.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the shop’s occupants, the animosity thick enough to be a physical barrier between the two sides. Riley’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides and the line of his jaw was so tight everyone could see the muscles jumping. By contrast, Spike was relaxed, and while his attention was clearly on the soldiers, his body language indicated he wasn’t at all concerned.

Buffy’s patience, never one of her strong points, was shredded. “So, didya have a chance in between all your meetings to think?”

“I don’t think we can help you.”

“Like that comes as a surprise. Knew you weren’t goin’ t’ do the right thing. You bastards put this bloody chip in, ‘s your responsibility to take it out.” Spike’s words rang through the shop, overriding everyone else’s muttered commentary, including Buffy’s. “Any particular reason why?”

“The purpose of the chip was to render hostiles non-violent. It has achieved that objective. We see no benefit in removing the chip from any vampire, even one that has friends.” Riley sneered and twisted the last word, managing to insult everyone.

“So even if I’m the one asking, you won’t do it?” Buffy questioned him, stepping a little closer to him. “I can handle Spike.”

Riley looked down at Buffy. “I can see how well you’ve handled him.”

“Rude much?” Buffy rested her folded arms over her distended belly. “Kinda uncalled for, dontcha think?”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

Dawn muttered under her breath, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Would that be on a soapbox?”

It was clear Riley wanted to give her a nasty retort, but he held his tongue, waiting for Buffy to continue.

“So you’re just gonna drop in without listening to our reasons for this request, and just say no?” She knew it was something of a rhetorical question, but she wanted Riley to actually admit that it was because she and Spike were together. “Any particular reason why?”

“We have our reasons.” He maintained his rigid stance, refusing to look at her.

“Care to elaborate on them?” Her foot was beginning to tap, a sure sign of her shortening temper and Anya surreptitiously began moving some of the more breakable items from the counter.

“No.”

“No. Wow. So you aren’t even willing to listen to why we need the chip removed?”

Though it was phrased as a question, no one in the shop believed for one second Buffy was actually asking anything. “How long were you going to string us along?”

Finally, Riley’s jealous temper got the better of him and he exploded, taking a step toward her. “When were you going to tell me the truth? When were you going to stop playing games? Are you ashamed, Buffy? Ashamed of who you’re sleeping with?”

Both Giles and Spike stepped forward, the Watcher grabbing Riley by the arm and pulling him away from an equally enraged Buffy. Spike had his hands on her shoulders, moving her to the side, or at least trying to.

Faith had heard enough. She emerged from her hiding place, slipping between Graham and Gebhardt to square off with Riley Finn.

“Dude, you need to dial it back and chill.”

Faith listened with growing apprehension as the meeting between the new and improved Scoobies and the soldiers degenerated into a sneering match.

She remembered Riley from her last stint in Sunnydale, remembered screwing him silly before ditching him to escape. Their encounter had only been memorable in her mind because she hadn’t been in her own skin, otherwise there had been a serious lack of fireworks until the very end, when he’d said those dreaded – at least in Faith’s mind – three words. She didn’t see the attraction back then and she was seeing even less of it now. Buffy might like to play prim and proper, but she had a wild streak that only someone like Faith could understand. She would never have been happy – really happy – with someone like Dudley Do-Right.

Is this guy for real? What an asshat! Dude needs to seriously lighten the hell up. Where does he get off with that kind of a remark?

She peaked around the cellar doorway, frustrated because her line of sight was blocked by the second soldier. Finally throwing caution to the wind, Faith moved further into the shop as Riley denied Buffy’s request. From her new vantage point, she could clearly see the looks on everyone’s faces, and from what she was seeing, no one was happy, least of all Spike. Though Giles and Wesley weren’t far behind. Connor was quietly fuming in the loft, and Faith raised her eyes to him and shook her head negatively when he moved to jump down into the argument.

Riley made some nasty remark that she missed, though no one else did. It was obvious, at least from where she was standing, that he was threatening her counterpart. Which was so very wrong in her book. It was one thing for him to get in Buffy’s face, but altogether another when she was heavily pregnant and not so able to defend herself.

She, Giles and Spike all moved simultaneously, Giles reaching the irate commando first, while Spike had a firm grip on Buffy. Figuring Giles would need her help, Faith stepped between the two soldiers, blocking off any assistance Riley was likely to get from his cohorts.

“Dude, you need to dial it back and chill.”

The commando struggled in the Watcher’s grip and Faith put one hand on his chest, pushing him easily backwards. “I said you need to chill.”

Muscles all over his body tensed and throbbed and Faith raised an eyebrow, a sardonic smile twitching at her lips. “Go ahead, cowboy, take a shot,” she practically purred.

“What the hell? Who the – “ Riley’s voice choked off as he finally recognized the dark-haired girl standing in front of him. “Why are you here?”

He pushed forward, trying to make her back down. Faith easily stood her ground against his efforts and raised an eyebrow, barely exerting any pressure, as she held him back. “Doesn’t matter why I’m here, hotshot. You still need to cool those jets.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?” Riley locked eyes with the darker-haired Slayer.

“Was. Not so much anymore, though. And why I’m here isn’t really the issue now, is it? You still need to calm the fuck down.”

Faith’s appearance proved to be distraction enough to shake the force of Riley’s anger. He straightened away from her, taking a full step back, folding his arms over his chest. “I still stand by my earlier statement. The Initiative will not sanction any request to remove the behavioral modification chip from Hostile Seventeen’s head.”

Oz had stood up at the first sign of trouble, and now he moved to stand closer to Spike and Buffy. Dawn stood up abruptly, shoving back her chair so hard that it nearly fell over. She was muttering loudly the whole time, invectives and imprecations falling from her lips that – had Buffy been paying attention – would have earned her more than just a raised eyebrow.

Buffy was too busy fuming to pay attention to anyone but Spike, who, in an odd twist, was the calmer of the two. She was red-faced and almost hyperventilating, waving her arms and trying vainly to get words past her lips.

“Would you be willing to at least listen to our reasons before you make a final decision?” Giles stepped around Buffy and Spike, coming to a stop next to Faith.

Riley wanted a chance to speak with Giles, had in fact been wracking his brain for an excuse to get him alone, and here it was being presented to him. Without a second thought, the reply was out of his mouth, “Yes. On the condition that Spike not be present. Or Buffy.”

Sharing a glance with the vampire, Giles made a split-second decision. “Very well. Wesley?”

The two Englishmen motioned the soldiers to the door, letting them precede them out. As he closed the door behind him, Giles nodded once, then turned resolutely away.

The instant the door was closed, all hell broke loose.








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