Buyer Beware by Just_Sue

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Chapter 17

By the time they reached the bottom of the winding road Buffy had revised her opinion of Clem’s driving - it was exhilarating. Who’d have thought? She’d felt empathy for the passengers and drivers of the two cars coming in the opposite direction on the way down - shocked white faces picked up briefly in the headlights as they’d flashed by and the sound of horns chasing after them.

Unfortunately, the little car failed to live up to her expectations once the road levelled out and its horsepower lost the benefit of gravity. Her need for speed was not going to be fulfilled and having the time to think wasn’t what she wanted right now, not when everything pointed to a setup by Angel. It was at times like this she actually missed having a Watcher, though thoughts of Giles did nothing to make her any calmer. No use believing what Angel had told her until she’d checked it out, but it held the unwelcome ring of truth - Spike wasn’t hers. Not legally.

The interior of the car was bathed in light as something approached fast from behind. In moments it had zoomed past them, a motorcycle, its driver obviously in a hurry. If Buffy hadn’t known better she could have sworn…

“Clem! Make this heap go faster. I think that was Angel.”

***

Willow trembled with a mixture of dread and longing, hoping Tara’s calming presence would be enough to prevent her from giving in to the lure of the magic that had started to build within her. It just felt so good to sense the power itching to flow outwards, to put its stamp on the world, beginning with her little corner of it. Without conscious thought her hand reached out blindly and was instantly clasped, the answering grasp light but firm. A wave of calm coursed through her, chased by a small tingle that set the hairs standing on her arms - and other places – on end. This was okay. This was doable.

Staring at the scene below, Tara kept channelling into her lover a soundless benediction of the Goddess as she studied the auras of the players: two vampires, three humans and a sinisterly robed demon. A small smile tugged at her mouth when she noted that the purest aura came from a vampire…and it wasn’t a demon that possessed the darkest. Sadly, this wasn’t a shock to her.

A shift, a balance, flowed back to her through Willow. Good. Ready, sweetie?

Ready as I’ll ever be. Willow swallowed before she turned to smile at Tara, uncertainty receded and she knew that together they’d be able to do this…even through the little jittery butterflies of nervousness. It really was getting a tiny bit better every time they cast together, but Willow was in no hurry to feel overly confident in her magic again. Tara would be her guide and anchor for the very foreseeable future. Just the way she liked it. She accepted that she had power, but not the experience or mindset to use it as nature intended, and it had been a lesson she’d learned the hard and painful way.

It didn’t look good for Spike out there. The suit man had just finished putting some sort of collar on him and fastened his hands in front. Willow drew forth some elemental juice and stared intently at the lock of the window in front of her, watching as it unlocked and drifted silently open. Neat!

Very nice, Willow! Tara was straining to hear what the vampiress was saying.

“Happy twenty-first, William. Now you have the key of the door best look after it, sweet childe. Mummy loves you.”

Tara just caught the fond smile sent by the dark haired woman toward Spike before the suit man moved swiftly behind her and shoved. At least, it had looked like a shove. For a split second, just as the woman’s back arched and her head was thrown back, their eyes met and held.

Acceptance.

A calm acceptance of what was to come. Then she crumbled, seeming to internally combust without the obvious signs of fire or smoke, until only the skeletal ashes remained, poised in defiance for a nanosecond or ten before puffing outwards and drifting to earth.

The silence was, in a way that had to be heard to be believed, deafening. But Tara’s senses were still attuned to the auras of the diminished band of players, and she was moved to tears by what she saw happening on the small lawn in front of Buffy’s house.

As the last of the dust settled, a shade appeared. Deep charcoal and dense, it shimmered for a second and then separated, became two. The strongest was black as ebony, writhing in what looked to be pain as it seeped into the earth and disappeared. Left was the palest and most translucent aura Tara had ever seen…but it was there, no doubt about that. It floated slowly but steadily into the air, after a few feet began to gain speed and then… Blink!

Gone.

Time resumed its normal service and all hell broke loose.

***

The initial anger he’d felt at being deserted by Buffy had been replaced with rage when he’d found his car unusable. Someone would pay for that…when he had more time. Angel had been sorely tempted to take out his ire on the owner of the machine he’d borrowed. He’d barely restrained himself when the guy had pulled up beside him in the parking lot to offer smirking sympathy at the vandalism to his beauty. The smirk had left the man’s face somewhere between being pulled from the seat of his motorbike, and hitting the wall he’d been casually tossed against. Catching the bike before it hit the ground, Angel didn’t bother to watch the jerk collapse in a heap as he leapt on and increased the revs with a twist of his wrist. Then he was off, recklessly speeding down into Sunnydale…and toward Revello Drive.

***

It seemed to happen so fast, yet there was still more than enough time to engrave the scene so deeply into his memory that Spike knew it would be there for the rest of his days…however many of those he had left.

The bastard from Wolfram & Hart had dusted Dru. Just like that. No reason, no fight, no nothing done to provoke…just Dru babbling a sentence of her usual cryptic nonsense. And now his Sire was forever gone, never to be worried about or seen again, touched nor heard from ever again. Gone. Forever gone.

Spike had done what they’d demanded; he’d left the safe sanctuary of the house, had allowed himself to be trussed up, so there was no call for that evil soul-mortgaged bastard to shove deadly wood into her back. Nobody staked his Sire and got away with it. Her executioner didn’t get to hide behind the two wankers who’d recently flanked the unliving flesh of his Dark Princess.

As the last of the dust fell to earth Spike changed, felt his demon rise in accord with his desire to maim - if not kill - this despicable servant of Angel’s. Revenge for Drusilla, protection for the Slayer. His fangs were still lengthening as he launched himself at the smug face of the murdering sod, growl growing until he ploughed into the men and was momentarily paralysed as the chip fired. ‘Fucking, bloody, buggering hell! Forgot how much that hurts.’

An involuntary cry of pain escaped as his disobedient body dropped to the ground, still twitching as hot burning agony spread out along his nerve endings from the epicentre of the eruption in his brain. Muscles spasmed, contracting and twisting as the effects of the chip were distributed through his frame. It didn’t last long, but it was hell whilst it did.

Just needed a minute or so to recover, then he’d try again. Maybe two minutes.

***

Tara blinked, her vision interrupted for only a moment, but when she opened her eyes everyone had moved.

Spike had vamped out and was trying to throw himself at the suit man, who in turn was hiding behind his two minions. The robed demon had dropped to his knees beside the dusty remains of the vampiress and was pulling a small container from a hidden pocket. Suit guy was trying to take something from his jacket pocket, stumbling back a couple of steps when Spike ploughed into the human shield and fell to his knees with a cry. The chip must have gone off.

From the side of the house burst a motley collection of demons, all giving the immediate impression of being ready, willing and very able to rescue Spike and see off the unwelcome intruders in a matter of minutes...if not seconds. And that would be helpful, because the security thugs were pulling the limp vampire up by his arms and looked to be intent on dragging him away. That is, until they latched on to the threat to their own safety.

Everything seemed to speed up even more.

Spike was unceremoniously dropped as tasers were pulled from belt holsters and fired towards Willy’s ragtag crew. Unsuccessfully fired. Tara could sense the satisfaction flowing from Willow as the malfunctioning weapons were dropped as if they were on fire, not completely unlikely if her lover were using heat to render them unusable. In moments, the two men were exchanging blows with three demons of varying size and ability, barely managing to keep upright as they were driven back and into the road. Suit man was dancing out of the way and edging toward the hunched figure of Spike.

“Backup! Bit of help needed here!” Suit man shouted, almost tripping over the robed demon who had now started to scoop dust into a small tin, completely focussed on his task and ignoring the scuffling going on around him.

Willy had just come into sight and was calling out encouragement to his bunch of diverse beings. “Tran, keep him busy, use your left...okay, use your right. Whatever works for you is good. Hey, Brg, watch it there! Remember what we agreed, guys! Don’t you go forgetting and… Nice one, Graq!”

The last referred to Graq’s adroit tripping of one of the men, before dropping down onto his victim’s back with a thump, driving the breath from him and using his weight to keep him out of commission.

Above the growing sounds of fighting could be heard the throaty rumble of a motorbike approaching at speed. Moments later it roared along Revello, transferring layers of rubber from its tyres to the road as it came to a skidding halt that just missed taking out the scuffling mix of demons and men on the road in front of the house. Even without an introduction Tara knew who the newcomer was.

Angel.

***

Brown eyes scanned the scene from beneath knit brows as Angel absently killed the engine of the stolen motorbike and dismounted, negligently letting the machine fall to the road with a clunk. Everything before him was wrong…well, except for Spike being out of the house and suitably restrained.

He’d given explicit instructions to Smith that this operation was to be handled with finesse and discretion; even the residents of Sunnydale were apt to call on their law enforcement services when violence erupted on their doorsteps during the night. The days of turning a blind eye and blaming it on drugged up gangs had long since lost its adequacy as an explanation since the outing of vampires as a fact and not a fancy.

Angel noted with satisfaction that everyone had stilled on his arrival, almost all eyes were turned his way. He was the centre of attention, just the way it should be. But that was about all there was to be satisfied about. Only two of the four men in his security team were visible, and one of those was being used as a cushion by a hefty blue-tinged demon. The other was being effectively corralled by two more demons, his efforts to evade them blocked at every turn.

Turning his attention back to the more interesting centrepiece on Buffy’s front lawn, Angel’s eyes met those of his supposed assistant, the one foisted on him by the Senior Partners for this mission. Smith. A hint of unease showed in the man’s eyes, possibly caused by being caught in the middle of this farce with a small gun in his hand, though there was nothing farcical about the weapon. Each tiny bullet was doctored to explode inside whatever - or whoever - it hit, and a flesh wound would absorb enough of the venom it was coated in to drop an elephant. Anything smaller it tended to kill. Not something he trusted Smith to use judiciously.

“Put that away,” Angel ordered, frowning when the man hesitated before obeying him with obvious reluctance. “Where’s the rest of the team? And what is he doing?” The last was accompanied by a scowl at the shaman who had ignored him completely and continued with his task – whatever that was – since he’d arrived. Green eyes flashed up to fix on Angel as the shaman closed his filled tin with a snap and rose to his feet, his precious booty finding its way into a hidden pocket in the depths of his voluminous robe. The lack of response was doing nothing to improve the souled vampire’s temper. But there was no time to discipline his subordinates now. Buffy could, would, arrive at any moment and he wanted to be gone before she did, with Spike safely in his keeping. Possession was, after all, nine tenths of the law.

“I would say it’s nice to see you again, Angel, but you’d know I was lying,” Willy remarked in a voice that sounded far steadier than he felt. Where was the Slayer? He threw away the practices of a lifetime and moved, with his five comrades comfortingly close behind, to stand as firmly as he could behind the kneeling figure of Spike. He wasn’t quite sure himself if this was the bravest thing he had ever done, or the most foolhardy. And it wasn’t Angel that was causing a slight cramping in the pit of his stomach.

Sure, Angel was a dangerous customer…when he was Angelus. It was the CEO of the nearest branch of Wolfram & Hart - who, yeah, just happened to be Angel – that had the power to make things very bad for the Sunnydale community of demons. The same demons who had gone against feud and tradition to negotiate their way past prior inclinations and into a place where they had at least a chance to weather the increasing incursions of the Initiative. Vampires weren’t the only members of demonkind who were in short supply in the wild nowadays.

Wolfram & Hart had both the best and worst of reputations. Trans-dimensional, almost completely run by demons for demons, it had much to recommend itself as a plausible law firm for any demon of worth to take his custom to. And they were good, very good. Devilishly good. Right up until the moment that you were up against another client of theirs. Then, well, the value of the payment required could often take on the form of favours in the future, or the passing over of your firstborn, stuff like that. Which was fine and dandy.

Willy understood the intricacies of dealing with demons, how you had to walk a few yards in their shoes in order to even try to understand the values each different species placed on what, to a human, would be deemed trivial or taboo. But he hadn’t met one who thought giving away its first born was nothing. Wolfram & Hart drove hard deals for their clients, and even harder ones to their clients. It was to be expected that honour would be shed after such a long association with humans in this dimension.

So, Angel had some real power.

Not counting the physical kind he looked about ready to unleash in Willy’s direction.

***

Buffy hadn’t had a night go so wrong for her in ages. Even her near death experiences when she zoned out had been less fraught than tonight. And this was being picked up by an – in her opinion – overzealous cop as Clem pushed the pedal to the metal and dragged every horse, screaming and kicking, from his economical engine. The sirens screamed behind them, blue lights flashing in a gaudy - and totally unnecessary - manner. Why couldn’t the fates have smiled on her for once and sent them after Angel instead?

Only two more junctions and she’d be home.

Gripping her stake tightly in her right hand, Buffy let her left rest on the release to her seatbelt. She was ready to face her former lover…to the death, if need be.

***

Willow let out a heartfelt sigh of relief as she finished unbuckling the clasps to Spike’s restraints, thankful yet again for the superb training she had been fortunate enough to receive with Tara in England. Using the power with such subtlety and adroitness was far more difficult and challenging than the wham bang blasts of energy that she yearned to unleash as a testament to her innate superiority. She had been convincingly educated that being superior in power and potential did not equal better. Just meant you had to learn more in order to understand your limitations. Tonight she and Tara had done good, using a little to achieve a lot, small touches that yielded the best results; an open window, sending heat into the black uniformed guys’ tasers, freeing Spike.

She wanted to use more, show more, and make them all understand how powerful she was. Willow knew she could make so many things better in the world if only they let her. The temptation would be there forever, she understood that. Just as she truly understood that her old way would also lead to the destruction of all she held dear.

Holding the binding spell carefully in her mind, Willow prayed that Spike made the most of the opportunity she had given him. The temptation to freeze the scene and take out the bad guys was almost too much to pass by. But she wasn’t going to lose Tara again, not over a vampire who had yet to completely become a person she deeply cared about. Maybe then she’d be as careful for him. Until then she would do her best for Tara…and Buffy.

Where was she?

***

He’d held himself still - crouched on his knees - from the moment he’d felt the presence of Peaches. Now he had a new focus for his grief-driven rage.

He’d listened to his misbegotten grandsire’s words to the murderer of his sire, Angel’s childe. Spike could sense the man’s fear, heard the way his heartbeat hitched a little when the other vampire spoke to him. It wasn’t important. All thoughts of attempted revenge were pushed one side as the safety of his Slayer – the last person left in his universe to have any currency with him – became paramount.

Where was she?

Spike almost gave himself away when he heard the barkeep stand up to Angel. He almost gave himself away when he felt his bonds start to loosen, opened his eyes and watched the buckles on the cuffs about his wrists freed themselves…as if by magic.

Red and Glinda - they were helping him.

Slowly raising his head, Spike looked upon his grandsire for the first time in five weeks. Strange, he looked almost benign in his blue silk shirt and black dress trousers. Nothing like the twisted bastard Spike knew him to be.

“Where is she?” he asked, needing to know where his beloved was. “What have you done to her?”

Angel, as was his wont, completely misunderstood. He’d half expected Spike would ask about Drusilla, his companion for far too many years, especially if Smith had used empty threats against the seeress to persuade the chipped vampire to leave his temporary residence. He wished he’d been able to see his face when he’d realised it was just a ruse. There wasn’t time to regret what could have been a nice little visual to tuck away for future gloating; they had to get out of here…now.

Not concerned in the least with the weak threat presented by Willy the Snitch and his group of demon misfits – there was no reason for concern with a powerful shaman by his side – Angel glared at the man as he stepped forward and, roughly gripping Spike by the upper arms, dragged him to his feet. If the blue fire in the eyes that locked on his had been able to escape, Angel had no doubt he would be instantly incinerated. There was more spirit left here than expected, something he would take pleasure in quashing over the coming weeks and months, years even.

“Drusilla?” Angel grinned, his agile mind already making plans to include his insane childe in some of the many methods he would employ to break Spike…once and for all. Who said fulfilling a prophecy couldn’t have benefits? “Feel her nearby can you, boy?” He couldn’t. The part of his brain that registered the presence of his vampiric family was all taken up with the major irritation he now held firmly in his hands. “If you behave I might even let you see her. Might…” Angel trailed off as Spike started to laugh.

He didn’t know. The Great Poofter didn’t know that his most painstaking creation had passed beyond his reach, despatched by his own minion. A movement caught his eye over Angel’s shoulder, the murderous wanker shifting uncomfortably but keeping silent. It was too funny, too bloody funny.

Spike started to laugh. Even to his own ears the sound was anything but amused, a hint of anguish threaded through the sniggering which ended as he changed, let his true face show. With a jerk he pulled out of the collar and cuffs so stealthily released by witchy talents, wrenched himself from Angel’s grasp, and stepped back to align with the Raggedy Rebels of Sunnyhell.

The screaming sirens which had barely registered before were rapidly drawing nearer, accompanied by the sound of screeching tyres leaving far too much rubber on the tarmac as they cornered under duress. He felt her, coming closer, and it was all he needed.

All he needed to explode into welcome action, for once surprising Angel as his momentum carried them both to the ground when he smashed into him. Both were on their feet in an instant, two master vampires ready to tear each other apart in a flurry of fists and fangs…or anything else needed to vanquish the other.

So intent was he on dodging the meaty fists trying to rearrange his face, so intent was he on keeping his balance after a well placed kick connected with Angel’s kneecap, that he didn’t hear the voice over their combined growls and snarls. It wasn’t until it was repeated, louder, that he vaguely considered obeying it.

“I said freeze, damnit! Anyone still moving on the count of three can consider themselves under arrest!”

One.

***

Willow blocked out the squeal of tyres, the wail of the siren almost upon them, and pulled tight the invisible bands she’d been weaving around the demon magician – she could feel his dark power from here – and Drusilla’s nemesis. Satisfaction flowed between Tara and her when they saw the pair realise they’d been neutralised and began a futile struggle to break free. It would have been good to tackle Angel in the same way…but Spike seemed intent on giving that a go in his own way. And now that Buffy was here, oh, and the cops…

Two.

***

Clem hummed happily under his breath as he brought the car to a dramatic halt inches away from the guys in the street…and an abandoned motorbike. The Slayer was out of the passenger door before all forward movement had ceased, clearing the bonnet and moving to join the action on her front lawn. His friends in blue were going to be mighty pissed at him for speeding…again, but getting another ticket was worth every second of the wild trip. He wouldn’t have missed scaring the Slayer for the world.

Three.

***

With the cops on their tail, Buffy knew that things were going to get even more complicated than they already were. Her heart leapt into her mouth when they skidded round the last corner into Revello Drive…and the discarded motorbike confirmed her fear that it had been Angel to overtake them. “Spike.”

That wasn’t the only thing cluttering the road. Three regulars from Willy’s were keeping a couple of celebrity bodyguard clones from getting involved in the vampire brawl taking place on her not overly large front lawn. Buffy vaguely noted Willy and more of his cronies backed up against the porch as she launched herself from Clem’s car and looked for an opening between the two growling antagonists. Right now Buffy wanted to kick both their butts - Angel for his underhand attempted theft of Spike, and Spike for being outside the house where she’d left him. The chipped vampire had better have a damned good reason for being so stupid.

Before she could make a move Sunnydale’s finest took charge of the situation.

“I said freeze, damnit! Anyone still moving on the count of three can consider themselves under arrest!”

Angel’s fist chose that moment to find its target and smash into Spike’s jaw, sending him reeling for a few steps until strong hands stopped and steadied him. “Buffy.”

Shame Angel remained totally oblivious to the presence of the law, his obsession blinding him.

Fortunate that Clem was able to direct Chuck – the cop he’d had the pleasure of receiving tickets for speeding violations from on many other occasions – to the fact his partner was now approaching a vampire without a chip.

Predictable that Chuck’s shouted warning to Wayne was lost in his partner’s last emphatic shout of “Three!” and coincided with the long arm of the law touching Angel on the shoulder…only to be thrown off.

“Okay, mister. You’ve had your chance. You’re under arrest,” Wayne stated, reaching to his belt for the cuffs.

Finally, Angel understood that his control of the situation had shifted whilst he had been blinkered to everything except Spike. Buffy was there. She was holding onto the other vampire, adding her glare to his, blue and hazel sending identical messages of loathing his way loud and clear.

Then the words sank in.

Morphing back to his human guise, Angel spun to stare in disbelief at the cop. “You can’t arrest me. I’m the CEO of Wolfram & Hart.”

For the second time that night Spike laughed.

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