The Wonder-Worker by Winsomeone

Chapter 1: Doors of Perception

Chapter Notes: Rating:  PG-13 adventure,romance,drama and humor

This story is 20 chapters and an epilogue and will also be in my memories if anyone misses a chapter.

Hope you enjoy the ride. :-)


                                                      

Present Day

Spike ducked under the arc of the swinging broad sword, sliding to the angry demon's side. Before it could turn and wield the blade again, the vampire pivoted, plunging his own sword deep into its chest.  Spike watched as it collapsed, taking his only weapon with it. Swearing, he gripped the hilt and wrenched it free.

The Slayer twisted, savagely kicking the second demon in the stomach.  Grunting, it doubled over, clutching its midsection.  One strong downward slice severed the head neatly.

More demons crowded through the doorway.

Spike turned toward the Slayer and their eyes met.

He cocked an eyebrow.

She nodded.

Together they raised their swords and charged.


Two weeks previous

Willow anxiously twisted around in her seat and scanned the entrance. "What could be taking so long?"

Buffy leaned forward across the table. The band was so loud tonight she could hardly hear Willow. "What?"

Willow cupped her hands around her mouth. "I said, what could be taking Tara so long?"

The decibel level in the Bronze dropped considerably when the band finished playing their first set and disappeared offstage for a fifteen minute break.

Breathing a sigh of relief at the sudden quiet, Buffy replied, "I'm sure she'll get here soon, somehow I don't think she'll miss her own birthday party."  She smiled a greeting at Xander and Anya sliding into two empty seats across the table.

"Hey Buff, Will. Everybody got on their dancin' shoes?" Xander set  frosty bottles in front of both girls. "I picked these up at the bar on the way over here." He looked around at the crush of people. "The Bronze is seriously crowded tonight."

Willow started peeling  her label. "Everyone's here for the new band."

"Thanks, Xan." Buffy picked up her bottle and nodded at the people crowded around the bar. "isn't that Spike? It's hard to miss that radioactive hair."

"Yeah."

Willow interrupted her friends' conversation. "Tara invited him to the party, Buffy. She likes him and asked if he could come, too. I hope that was okay, he has been helping us on patrol lately."

"It's Tara's party and she can invite anyone she wants." Buffy glanced curiously at the black clad figure. "So why is he over there and not over here bothering us?"

"I don't know. Xander, did he say anything to you?"

"Captain Peroxide voluntarily speak to me in public? Nah, he didn't even acknowledge I was at the bar."

Willow suddenly squealed. "There she is." She flapped her hand wildly. "Tara! Over here!"

The quiet blonde broke through the throng. Smiling shyly at the group, she sat in the seat next to her girlfriend. "H-h-hello everyone."

Anya beamed at the shy Wiccan and held out a brightly wrapped gift. "Happy birthday Tara, I hope you enjoy the expensive gift Xander and I purchased for the occasion."  She turned to her boyfriend. "Was that the correct salutation?"

Xander smiled affectionately and patted her hand. "That was good, Anya, except for that part about the cost of the gift."

"But it was costly." Anya frowned. "Why shouldn't the recipient be made aware of that fact? It seems to me that should only be a problem if it weren't expensive."

"Never mind." He turned to Tara. "Would the birthday girl like a drink?"

"That would be very nice. Thank you."

"No need to haul your bulk out of the chair, Harris. Got it covered already." The vampire had silently materialized beside him. "Here you go Glinda." He set a bottle and a glass on the table and placed a small box beside them.  "Many happy returns."

Tara smiled at the vamp. "Thank you Spike, that was very thoughtful." She pointed at the empty seat next to Buffy. "Please sit down and join us."

Spike put his hand on the chair next to the Slayer and raised an eyebrow in her direction. "Evenin' Slayer."

Buffy glanced up and nodded. "Hello Spike. Have a seat."

The band walked back up on stage. While they picked up their instruments for the next set, the lead singer stepped up to the microphone and smiled out at the crowd. "Hello Sunnydale. It's nice to be here. My name's Drake."

He grinned at a group of people seated in the corner laughing loudly.  "You sound like you're all having fun tonight. In case you missed the flyers tacked up all over the city, we're Alchemy.  We hope you enjoy the magic we're gonna make onstage for you now. This is a song that I co-wrote with our drummer; it's called 'Missing you'.

The drummer pounded out a fast paced beat and the rest of the band picked up the melody.  Drake pulled the microphone close and started singing about lost love.

Spike snorted.  “Guess nobody clued him in on Sunnyhell. We've got plenty of our own magicks here; don't need some band with a poncy name for that.”  

“They're really good.” Xander lightly tapped the table in time with the drumbeat. He turned to his girlfriend. “Hey An., want to dance?”

She nodded and pushed back her chair. 

Willow and Tara soon followed.

Taking a long swallow of Jack, Spike gave Buffy a speculative look over the rim of the glass, gauging the Slayer’s mood. Ever since Tara had issued the party invitation, he'd been thinking about asking her to dance tonight.

He'd spent the previous thirty minutes standing at the bar working on some liquid courage, but with his bloody constitution he was still stone cold sober. At least with her friends out of the way now he had an opportunity.

Taking an unneeded breath, Spike set his glass firmly on the table and turned fully toward her. It was almost his undoing. The recessed lighting highlighted her blonde hair and large hazel eyes, giving Buffy a soft luminous quality. The Slayer looked incredibly beautiful. And completely inaccessible. Spike reached over and grabbed his glass again. No bloody way.

Trying to listen to the band, Buffy ran a nervous hand through her hair and stared down at her drink. She wasn’t comfortable sitting here at the table alone with Spike. She felt too accessible, too easily approached.

She and Riley had broken up two weeks ago after an enormous fight. Exasperated, the soldier had declared heatedly that he didn’t know what she wanted in a boyfriend. Buffy didn’t know what she wanted either, except that it wasn’t Riley. He didn’t understand her or her Slayerness at all. She’d spent a lot of time during their relationship trying to placate Riley’s raging feelings of insecurity over her strength and power and it had gotten old. Really old.

Fed up, Buffy told him to take his fragile ego and hit the highway. Hard. She needed some solo time without cute guys muddying up the water. Independence. A chance to regroup. Then later, much later, hopefully find someone who would understand and approve of her and her weird life.

If the party tonight had been for anyone but Tara she’d have begged off. The Bronze was so not the place for solo time and now on top of it she had an annoying vampire sitting there steadily drinking in the seat right next to her. Buffy glanced over and caught Spike watching her with the oddest expression. Well, more odd than usual.

So what’s up with him? Maybe I should say I'm going to the Ladies room and then sneak out the window. I so need something to hit.

“Excuse me, are you Buffy Summers?”

Buffy looked over warily at the thin dark haired boy of about thirteen or fourteen standing next to the table. “Yeah, I'm Buffy Summers.”

The teen held out an expensive looking envelope. “Then this belongs to you.”

Buffy frowned and reached for the envelope.

Spike narrowed his eyes. “And you are?” 

Nonplussed, the teen ignored the rude man staring at him and offered a tentative smile to the blonde woman. “Hi, my name's Kyle. Some man at the bar offered me ten bucks if I’d give this to you.” Raising his hand to point, he shook his head. “Sorry, he’s gone. Well, have a great night.”

Buffy watched the boy thread his way through the crowd. When he disappeared from sight she looked down at the envelope. Rubbing her index finger across the heavy cream colored paper, Buffy realized that the thick envelope felt as expensive as it had appeared. She noted her name written with a flourish; the penmanship old fashioned and well crafted. 

Spike's curiosity overwhelmed him. “Well, Slayer, aren't you even goin' to open it?”

Flipping the envelope over, Buffy touched the wafer thin circle of red melted wax that secured the flap. Someone had stamped the wax with an ornate letter 'C'.

“This is a little wiggy.” She showed Spike the back of the envelope.

He snorted. “Looks like someone wants to invite you to a special Hellmouth garden party that’s guaranteed not to end well.”    

She agreed with the vampire. Hoping it didn’t explode or turn them both into rats or something, Buffy cautiously pried open the envelope. Taking care not to destroy the wax seal- seals on the Hellmouth are never good- she raised the flap. Nothing happened. She held the unopened envelope in her hand and sighed in relief.

Spike watched impatiently as Buffy stared at the unopened envelope and asked, “Are you tryin’ to read the message with ESP, Slayer?” He smirked. “Try placing the envelope against your forehead á la Carnak the Magnificent.”

“The Magnificent Who?”

“You know, Johnny Carson.” Spike pantomimed holding an invisible envelope to his forehead and intoned, “Sis Boom Bah.” Pretending to open the invisible envelope, he read the question contained inside.  “What’s the sound that a sheep makes when it explodes?”

“How much have you had to drink tonight Spike? You sound like you’re only one jello shot short of true liver damage.”

The vampire chuckled at the quip, shaking his head. “Sometimes I forget how bleedin’ young you really are, Summers. Have Red do a computer search for you on Johnny Carson, a real comedic genius.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “I’m not that young, Spike, you’re just really old and it so happens I do know who Johnny Carson is.”

“Fine, you’re a bloody fountain of comedic knowledge” he retorted. “So, Ms.Wiki, are you goin’ to open the poncy letter?” 
 
“Well, since we didn’t blow up or turn into rats.”

“Rats?”

“It’s a long sordid story.” She glanced at him and smiled. It was always fun bantering with the quick witted vampire, even if he was a pain in her posterior more times than not. She scooted her chair to the side so Spike could read the letter over her shoulder.

Accepting the unspoken invitation, he leaned forward. Buffy lifted the paper higher and together they read the elegant script. 

Dear Ms. Summers,
I apologize for not meeting with you in person. I am in dire need of your assistance
and pray that you will consider my request. It is of the utmost importance and could have repercussions for the whole of Sunnydale. Please meet with me tonight at midnight at the address below. I anxiously await your arrival.
Sincerely,
Roger Chaplaine

Glancing at the address, Buffy realized it was across town. She placed the letter and envelope face down on the table and sighed. Absolutely nothing in her life was ever easy.

Spike leaned back in his chair again and reached for his cigarettes. “It could be a trap.”

“Yeah, but it seems like an awful lot of work. The usual vamps and demons around here wouldn't bother with any of this. They just wait around outside in the alley and try to kill me. No fooling around with written invitations, especially something that looks like it's out of an old issue of Miss Manners Etiquette Guide.”

“Yeah, it does seem a bit formal for the locals.”  He slid his lighter back in his duster pocket and looked at the blonde expectantly. “So, Slayer, what are ya goin’ to do?” 

Buffy had to admit that her curiosity was piqued and at the very least it was a valid excuse to leave the Bronze. Squinting at her watch, she realized if she wanted to actually show for this unorthodox meeting, she'd have to leave. Looking over at the vampire still watching her, she asked, “Would you drive me?”

Surprised at her request, Spike raised an eyebrow. “What about your mates? Harris has a car.”

“I don't want them along, in case this does turn out to be some sort of trap.”

Struggling to keep from smiling at the thought of them alone together in the Desoto, Spike answered casually. “I’ve got enough petrol, so I guess I could give you a lift.”

“I'll go over and tell Tara that I have to leave on Slayer business. I'll meet you out front.”

Spike swallowed the last of his drink and dug out his car keys. “I'll pull the car around.”

By the time Spike had driven to the front of the Bronze, Buffy was already waiting outside. He pulled up and jumped out to open her door.

“Spike, what are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I'm opening your door.” Spike gritted his teeth. What the bloody hell am I doing?

“Oh.” Oh. “Thank you.”  Tucking her feet in as Spike closed the door; the Slayer began to feel as though she’d been transported head first into the Turner Classic Movie channel.

First the fancy handwritten invitation and now Spike and his door opening bit. The image of the vampire coupled together with old fashioned manners was seriously warped. Buffy just hoped this didn’t turn out to be some sort of really bad spell. She wracked her brain, trying to remember the kind of mood Willow had been in earlier. 

 If Spike starts playing Big Band music on the radio, I’ll know we’re doomed.   

Feeling as though he wanted to bang his head hard against the steering wheel, Spike pulled his own door closed. He needed something to calm his nerves. Reaching over, he cranked up the volume on his Ramones CD. “Is the music too loud?”

Buffy exhaled loudly. “No, that’s absolutely perfect. That’s the Ramones isn’t it? They didn’t start until when, the 1980’s?”

“Uh, more like the late 70’s.” Spike reached for his cigarettes and lighter, still embarrassed over his faux pas. His Dark Princess had expected chivalrous things like her door being held for her and decades long habits were really tough to break. The Slayer was shocked but she must have actually liked it. After all, she’s not even complaining about the music.         

“Earth to Spike.”

He snapped back to the present.  “Yeah?”

“We need to get going.”

“What's that address again?”

Buffy squinted in the dark and read it aloud. “I think this is out west by the convention center. Take the Cross Town Expressway.”

Spike fumbled under his seat and produced a street map of Sunnydale. “As the only one of us who's actually driven these streets, I believe it's in the suburbs east of town. I'll get us movin' and you look it up.”

“Fine.”

Once Spike had the car pointed in the correct direction, which had actually turned out to be north, Buffy  spoke. “Thanks for driving me, Spike.”

“No problem, Slayer.” He glanced at the blonde. “Have you thought of your plan yet?”

“No, no plan. I just thought I'd play it by ear.”

“You should really have some sort of a plan. If you want, I'll go in with you,” Spike offered. 

“You do think this is a trap.”

“Just get bored waiting around is all and you've got to be prepared either way.”

“That's the Slayer motto, ‘be prepared’.”

“Actually, pet, I believe that's the Boy Scout motto.” 

“Are you sure? Giles says it all the time.”

“I’m sure. I’ve eaten a few Scouts back in the day.”

“Well, now, it's the Slayer motto too.”

“I’m sure they’ll share.”

“Especially since it’s me that keeps them from being eaten now.”

 Well, except for that one weekend last spring. But that wasn’t my fault, their Leader should have known better than camp out in the woods around Sunnydale.

Spike flipped on his left blinker and turned a corner. “Almost there.”

“You can come inside with me Spike; we'll both check it out. After all, I wouldn't want you to get too bored.” She smirked. “There's no telling what you'd do.” She folded her hands in her lap. “That is, if you can actually get inside.”

“I'm sure they'll take one look at my devastatin' good looks and invite me right in.” 

Buffy chuckled at the quip. Tonight wasn’t turning out so bad after all. There didn’t seem to be any wonky spells involved, just a plain old trap and she hadn’t needed to sneak out the bathroom window to avoid guys, either.

 And if I’m really lucky, I’ll get to hit something. 

She settled deeper in the seat and listened to the Ramones. 

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