Origins: Resolutions by Niamh

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The Gravest Threat

Author's Notes: A/N: I wasn’t even going to start to tackle this for another couple of days. . . but when I sat down at my computer at work this morning, both these scenes played out in my head. So there was nothing for it but to write them down. Here’s the result. I hope it meets everyone’s expectations. This is moving far quicker than I expected it to. But, well, here it is. Title and quotes are as attributed, and the disclaimers prove I own nothing. Again. Drat.]

Previously: Travers has indicated to Nicholson that he is aware of what’s going on. The Sunnydale demons have gotten Warren Meers in custody for Spike and Buffy to interrogate. The Initiative finally showed, and Riley refused to remove the chip. This picks up immediately following the last installment.

Book Three

Chapter Eighteen The gravest threat

Genocide begins, however improbably,
in the conviction that classes of biological distinction
indisputably sanction social and political discrimination.
Andrea Dworkin, Biological Superiority: The World’s Most Dangerous and Deadly Idea, sct. 3, Letters from a War-Zone (1987).

Evil is the shadow of angel.
Just as there are angels of light, support, guidance,
healing and defense, so we have experiences of shadow angels.
And we have names for them: racism, sexism,
homophobia are all demons - but they're not out there.
Matthew Fox

It is only human supremacy,
which is as unacceptable as racism and sexism,
that makes us afraid of being more inclusive.
Ingrid Newkirk

The conquest of the earth,
which mostly means the taking it away from those
who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves,
is not a pretty thing when you look into it.
Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness

Racism is man's gravest threat to man -
the maximum of hatred for a minimum of reason.
Abraham Joshua Heschel



“The New York team is activated and preparing to depart for Sunnydale, sir. Is there anything else you want me to do?” Nicholson hesitated, waiting for further instructions.

Quentin Travers looked up from the book he was reading. “No. How soon before we land?”
“Little under an hour. I’ve arranged for transportation to the hotel. We’ve got the entire third floor, sir.”

“Very good, Nicholson. Is Giles aware of our impending arrival?” The question was pointed and very deliberate. Travers was not as ignorant of Nicholson’s machinations as the younger man wanted to believe, but it was no longer prudent or necessary to pretend his ignorance. While Nicholson hemmed and hawed about answering him, Travers took pity on his protege. “How he’s been notified is immaterial. Far more important is the issue of his knowledge.”

Caving in, Nicholson miserably answered in the affirmative.

“Very well. The new Slayer, her Watcher, and the two of us shall be proceeding directly to the Magic Box. Have the wetworks team standing by at the airport. The others may go straight to the hotel.” Travers raised an eyebrow when Nicholson hesitated.

“Sir?” The younger man nervously fiddled with the edges of his suit jacket, then inhaled deeply and raised the question most on his mind. “Was I that obvious?”

“No. In fact you were – you are very good at covering your tracks. None of the other Inner Council is aware, not even Smythe-Hynde.”

“So then how did you – ?” Confusion colored his voice and Nicholson dared to sit down in the seat opposite his superior.

“Change is something this organization needs to embrace. Our purpose is not to hinder our Slayers, but to support them. And while Miss Summers is a bit rebellious, she’s very, very good at what she does.” Travers leaned forward, his voice dropping down to a low rumble. “I think she’s rather refreshing.”

He leaned back, watching as Nicholson attempted to digest this bit of news. A smile played about his lips as the wheels began turning. “One more thing, John. Rupert Giles was not the first mutinous legacy to become a Watcher.”

Leaving him to ponder that notion, Travers turned his attention back to the book on his lap.

Giles led them to the Espresso Pump, knowing the demonic family that owned the shop wouldn’t interrupt, and also knowing Lawson and quite possibly two of the others were already inside, watching the Magic Box. Of all the places he could bring the commandos, this was likely one under the most surveillance, though he doubted the soldiers would be aware of it.

Once they were inside in a little-used corner of the shop, Giles wasted no time. “What is it you didn’t want to say in front of my Slayer?”

Both Giles and Wesley sat, the outward appearance of calm belying the tight rein both were holding on their tempers. Finn exchanged a glance with the older of the other two and after receiving an almost imperceptible nod, he dropped down into one of the chairs surrounding the small table. “There’s no way you support the idea of removing the chip.”

Giles snapped out, “What makes you say that?”

“First of all, you’re a Watcher and you know vampires. Despite the fact Spike is currently playing nice, there’s no guarantee he’ll continue to do so with the chip gone.” His companions relaxed somewhat and sat down in chairs flanking Riley.

“I’d venture a guess and say you know nothing of the situation.”

Riley leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, as if he were confiding something to them. “I know enough. Buffy contacted the Initiative. Because of our past, my superior officer agreed to send a couple of us here.”

Neither of the two men opposite him reacted, so Riley continued. “Prior to that, the last communication I had from anyone in Sunnydale was from Xander, and honestly, what he wrote in the letter was a little hard to deal with.” He sat up straight. “I certainly didn’t expect this.”

The emphasis he put on the last sentence riled both Englishmen. When a sideways glance revealed an angry Giles, Wesley interjected, “And by this you mean?”

It took a moment, but Riley realized he didn’t even know who this guy was. “I don’t – who are you?”

Not bothering to extend his hand in greeting, Wesley snapped out “Wesley Wyndam-Pryce,” in his poshest accent. “I’m both a colleague and a friend.”

“Whose?” Without waiting for an answer, Riley barreled onward. “Look, I don’t know all the particulars and I’m really not sure I want to know. What I do know is that the Giles I remember wouldn’t stand by while his Slayer got involved with another vampire.”

“What you know could be measured in thimbles.” Giles let his temper get the better of him. “When you left here, your tail tucked firmly between your legs, you left behind a girl who was in desperate need of support. Her mother died within weeks of your departure and then we faced the battle of our lives against a hellgod. That vampire you disparage so freely not only stood by and supported the Slayer, he risked his own life more than once to protect her sister.”

Now Giles was the one leaning forward, his face tense and drawn. “He could have left at any time. Spike wasn’t obligated to any of us, save through his affection for Dawn. He watched over her, protected her and patrolled every bloody night while Buffy was dead.”

The surprise on Riley’s face didn’t stop Giles from continuing, “He wasn’t looking for payment. There was no ulterior motive on his part. Spike did it because he made a promise to Buffy before she died. No chip, no Pavlovian reinforcement would motivate anyone to do what Spike did. There’s only one motivating factor in the world with enough power to do that and it certainly doesn’t consist of silicone and wires.”

He let is words sit, then leaned back in his chair, watching the three soldiers for some indication that they were even listening to him. Wesley folded his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on the figure of Riley Finn. The resemblance to Angel – while not entirely physical – was remarkable. It appeared, at least for a moment, that Rupert’s impassioned speech might sway Finn a little though Wesley despaired of him ever truly getting the point. To Finn and the others of the Initiative, demons were incapable of ‘higher emotions’, which was utter tripe.

Spike disproved that theory. Hell, even Angel had discredited that notion. Vampires could feel the same as humans. . . . perhaps even more keenly.

Wesley’s musings were cut short when Riley shook his head. “I can’t authorize the removal of Spike’s chip.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Either.” Finn shook his head again. “And I can’t believe you allowed her to get involved with him. What are you going to do when she has a demon child? You’re going to let her raise a child that has the potential to destroy the world?”

Fire gleamed in Riley’s normally placid eyes, fanatical fire. Fanned, no doubt, by the officer to his right, who wore the Caduceus insignia on his uniform. Giles’ blood ran cold, wondering if this man had served under Maggie Walsh. He had that same look in his eyes that Riley had and Giles realized, rather belatedly, that they may have made a huge tactical error in contacting the Initiative. He leaned over in his chair, catching Wesley’s eye. The two Englishmen shared a look that spoke volumes.

“Any child possesses that ability, whether demonic or not. Genetic background does not predispose one to acts of benevolence or charity.”

“No, but it can predispose toward violence and destruction. Buffy’s probably worried sick over it, but she won’t let it show. Let us take the child. We can contain it and train it correctly.”

“What? Did you just –?” Wesley shot to his feet. “I don’t believe I heard you.”

Rupert was talking at the same time. “Absolutely not. I will not participate in any scheme to take away a child of Buffy’s.”

The doctor laid a hand on Finn’s arm before he could formulate a response. He shook his head imperceptibly, though Wesley caught the motion. There seemed to be some communication that the two senior officers were privy to that the third was unaware of. Judging by the expression on the short blond’s face, the idea of taking the baby was a new development. One that was beginning to stink of more than just Initiative thinking.

The niggling thought in the back of Giles’ mind whispered that this new notion of Finn’s was more than just mere revenge. According to Spike, the Americans had gotten the idea of the Initiative from the Nazis, and the fear burgeoning within told him the doctor was influencing Riley’s thought process. He had no clue how closely any of them had worked with Maggie Walsh, but Giles was under no illusions about where the woman had gotten her ideas from, and it wasn’t Dr. Spock.

“No. Absolutely not.” Giles finally got to his feet and he shared a look with Wesley. The light in his eyes grew flinty and Riley flinched under his unrelenting gaze. “If anything happens to Buffy’s child, you’ll be the first person I come after, Riley Finn. Make no mistake on that.”

Having fired a warning shot across Finn’s bow, Giles and Wesley left the Espresso Pump.

In the two minutes since Giles and Wesley led the soldiers out of the Magic Box, everyone had erupted. Dawn was yelling at no one in particular, Anya had relaxed then started in, her nerves getting the better of her, Faith squared off against Spike, who had slammed his hands down on the table. That startled Tara, who promptly burst into nervous tears, which had gotten Oz a bit more agitated, though that only made him pace quietly. Connor dropped down from the loft to land between Tara and Dawn, which just made the blonde jumpier. And through it all, Buffy tried valiantly to get words out of her mouth.

Her arms were flailing and she accidentally hit Spike, who finally noticed her distress. Buffy’s face was bright red and her breathing was erratic. Her face contorted, nose scrunching and lips twisting as something wrenched when she tried to inhale. She crumpled, nearly doubling over.

“Oooowwwww!”

“Slayer?” Spike spun on his heels, grabbing onto Buffy’s forearms to keep her on her feet. “What’s wrong?”

After everyone had choked to silence, the noise and questions started all over again. Giving up on hearing anything other than the elevated heartbeat from Buffy, Spike yelled over the din, “Pipe down!”

Once more silence reigned, until Buffy grumbled deeply. “Help me up.”

Spike lifted her easily, his hand settling around her waist. He could feel the ripples under the surface of her skin and instantly recognized they were different from the normal movement. “What’s going on?”

Desperate confusion laced his voice and Buffy looked at him through the loose strands of hair that were covering her face. Her eyes were bright, vivid green, and holding a spark of something he didn’t – wasn’t – quite ready for, despite all the months of preparation.

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“What?” Dawn glanced from one to the other, a hand covering her mouth as realization sunk in. “Is it time?”

Tara got to her feet, heading for the phone. “There’s – is it the first pain you’ve had?”

Buffy shook her head. “Not really, but,” she gasped out as she refused to look at Spike, who was grinding his teeth and growling lowly. “I didn’t think they were all that bad! It wasn’t like the book talked about!”

“Buffy, did you think that maybe it wasn’t so bad because you’re the Slayer?” Anya shook her head, then continued. “How long has this been happening?”

“Off and on all day.” She peeked at Spike, knowing he would be pissed at her. What she saw surprised her. There was more than a faint hint of panic in his eyes and he let go of one arm to run his fingers through his hair.

“Buffy?” His voice was soft, pitched low so only she could hear him. “You okay?”

“You know it could just be the Braxton-Hicks, brought on by the stress.” Tara managed to speak without stuttering, though it was a near thing, since she was so nervous. At Buffy’s incredulous look, she smiled crookedly. “Maybe?”

“Maybe we should call the witches.” Spike grimaced as another pain rippled through Buffy and she gripped his forearms tighter.

Faith looked around, realizing everyone was frozen in shock. She reached for the phone, urging Dawn and Connor into action. “You two need to get to the house to get stuff ready, just in case this isn’t a false alarm.”

Spike managed to ground out, “Take the tunnels”, before they headed for the front door. “It’ll take the commandos longer to figure out what’s going on.”

“Want me to go?” Oz pointed at the teenagers, but Spike shook his head. The pair had stopped, waiting to see if Spike would elaborate.

“Should be fine on their own, jus ’. . . ” He paused, sharing a look with the werewolf no one else could fathom. “‘M not sure if we’re gonna have to make a run for it. Got to worry about the soldiers.”

“Right.” Oz waved off the teens, then flipped open his cell phone. “Sam should know.”

Jenner closed the training room door. “We still have a hostage. Could use him.”

Buffy eased her hold on Spike. “That was interesting.”

“How interesting?” Anya leaned her elbows on the counter, her eyes fixed on Buffy.

“Just felt like really wicked cramps.” She shrugged, unsure how to really describe the pain.

“Was it like having lots and lots of orgasms all at once?”

There was a beat of silence, then Buffy looked at Spike, biting her lip to keep from laughing, but when Tara snickered helplessly, everyone joined her.

The nervous hilarity only got worse when Buffy admitted sheepishly, “Sort of.”

Giles paused halfway between the Espresso Pump and the Magic Box, fists clenching spasmodically at his sides.

“That. . . was quite possibly the most infuriating conversation I’ve ever been party to.” He pushed his glasses back, the muscles in his neck and jaw pulsing with unexpressed outrage.

“I’m more than a bit taken aback as well.” Wesley then lapsed into deep thought. “It smacks of Nazi rhetoric.”

The older man scoffed. “More than smacks of it. That doctor has the look of a fanatic. Or a sociopath.”

“Wasn’t much difference with the Nazis.”

“True enough.”

The two faced each other, wearing grim expressions. “They have to be warned.”

“Indeed. This is not going to be well received.”

Wesley raised an eyebrow and his chuckle of amusement was not a happy one. “I’ve no doubt. You and I are quite ready to spill some blood. Can you imagine how Spike will react?”

“The way I’d expect any parent to react when his children are being threatened.” He clapped Wesley on the shoulder. “No point in delaying the inevitable.”

The remainder of the walk back was in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts.

“Kait said Grace was already on her way. She also said you should get moving.” Faith hung up the phone, relaying the list of instructions from the witch.

“Anything else?” Spike ran a hand through his hair, covering the fine tremors of his hands with constant movement.

“Yeah. She wants Tara to start timing Buffy’s pains.”

“And?”

Faith sighed, sounding very put upon. “Kait wants you to have a drink.”

“What?”

The varied chorus of disbelief greeted Faith’s statement, none of them certain they’d heard her correctly.

“That doesn’t sound like Kait.” Tara tucked some hair behind her ear. “Are you sure she said that?”

“Nah. That was me.” Faith’s grin was Cheshire-cat wide. “It’s wicked good advice, though.”

Buffy was spluttering, “Oh, no you didn’t,” while everyone else was either shaking their head or agreeing with Faith. Spike was about to say something when the door opened, admitting the two Watchers.

“Spike?” Giles closed the door quietly behind him. “We need to alert everyone.”

The vampire was instantly on edge. “Why?”

It was Wesley who realized first that something else was going on. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re not sure. Buffy might be in labor.”

“Oh, bloody. . . This just tears it.” Giles blew out an exasperated breath.

“So not the reaction I was hoping for. What’s up?” Though her voice was strained, Buffy was still chipper enough to be sarcastic.

“Evidently,” Giles hesitated, at a loss for once. “There appears to be an additional reason for the Initiative’s appearance in Sunnydale.”

He lapsed into silence, which was only broken when Faith prompted him. “Which is?”

“From what Riley just said, I believe they want to take the babies and – “ Giles couldn’t continue, the thought of what the Initiative might do more than he was willing to give voice to. However, what he’d implied was more than enough for Spike. A low, subsonic growl began building in his chest and he stepped back, away from Buffy. “I’m sorry, Buffy. I wish this were different.”

“Why are you sorry?” Buffy had to keep talking, had to focus on something other than the very scary thoughts going through her head. “I’m the one that called them.”

“None of us expected them to react this way, especially Riley.” Giles pulled off his glasses. “I’m so very sorry.”

“So that exactly does that mean? Are they gonna try and steal the kids?” Faith glanced from one Watcher to the other, confusion on her face.

“I wouldn’t put that past them.” Wesley sent an apologetic look in Buffy’s direction. “I do believe they think their actions are for the greater good.”

Though she’d been listening to everything the Watchers were saying, Buffy’s attention wasn’t on either of them. She’d been watching Spike, tracking his every move while he paced across the floor. The hold he had on his temper was exquisite, drum-tight and pulsing with the beat of her heart. He was clamoring for action, desperate to protect her and the babies.

Feeling her gaze upon him, Spike pivoted on his heel, his eyes pinning hers. They were incandescent, lit from within by the fire of his temper. Pale blue and vivid, they stood out sharply from his dark lashes. Buffy didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. His look defied her to deny him the right to protect her, dared her to call him a monster, to belittle how desperately he loved her – them. He let his eyes bleed to amber, let the planes and angles of his face morph into the brow ridges and fangs he normally hid from the rest. The low vibration thrumming through his chest erupted into a window-rattling growl, and she still didn’t look away.

Knowing exactly what he was doing, she stepped closer, her heartbeat steady. She wasn’t afraid of him, wasn’t afraid for him either. She knew why he was doing this, understood it as much as he did. His growl intensified and still she approached him. Buffy stopped just in front of him, as close as her extended belly would allow. One hand reached for his face, fingers tracing over the rougher features, while the other grabbed one of his and placed it on her belly.

“Take me home, Spike.”

The demon slipped away, momentarily placated, though neither pretended it wasn’t just below the surface, waiting for the moment to strike.

Behind them, the shop’s door opened and a gasp from some of the others caught their attention. Buffy looked over Spike’s shoulder and groaned. He whirled around, preparing to strike, only to be confronted by an older gentleman in a Savile Row suit, flanked by a younger man and two females. “Who the bloody hell are you?” he snarled belligerently.

“Quentin Travers.” Giles and Wesley spoke simultaneously.










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