Nemesis by Holly

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Part Fourteen: Crossing The Rubicon

It was the sort of silence that lasted forever—stretching and spanning the sand of time. As though the three pairs of eyes in the room had fleetingly forgotten an outside world existed at all, and suddenly an intruder walked among them. An intruder. William the Bloody: standing only yards away in snarky defiance for all to see.

Buffy would have liked to assume that Angel was simply stunned speechless, but she knew the truth. Her kinda-boyfriend wasn’t a man of too many words, unlike his unruly childe, thus stunned silence was the only reaction he could offer.

“’Course,” Spike continued, strolling forward leisurely. “You did go all bug-shagging crazy about this time last year an’ started fucking Dru. Gotta tell yeh, mate…as much as I bless her wicked li’l heart, it’d take somethin’ mighty powerful to drag me away from such…oh, how to put it…warmth.” He refused to look at her; instead cocking his head and searched his elder for a reaction. “An’ to believe,” he concluded, “they always said you were the thinker in the family. Spoutin’ this an’ that an’ the like about philosophy, the apocalypse, an’ all that other rot. Don’t rightly see how you could leave such a delicacy all untended an’—”

The entranced look on the raven-haired slayer’s face rapidly melted into boredom. With a roll of the eyes, she nudged Angel and quirked a brow. “Does he always talk this much?”

At that, Buffy couldn’t help it; she spared her surrogate evil-stepsister a grin and shook her head. “Trust me,” she drawled. “You’re getting the Cliff’s Notes version.”

Spike smiled devilishly and finally allowed his eyes to meet hers. “Don’t remember you complainin’ much, luv,” he observed. “’Course after a while, we weren’t so occupied with the talking.”

“Either that or I tuned you out,” she replied, though she couldn’t do anything to banish her smile. “I don’t seem to remember you ever shutting your yap.”

“Again, you’re not one to throw stones.” The grin tickling his lips broadened and he tossed a tantalizing glance in Angel’s direction. “Whatever you said to her, mate, the day after, I gotta thank you for it. She an’ I had a hell of a time proving you wrong.”

A flurry of objection swarmed instinctively in Buffy’s stomach. Her mind was stuck on constant replay, unwilling to fully accept what her eyes were telling her. He was here. Spike was here. Despite everything that had happened in the past few days, everything she had told him to thoroughly eradicate his affection for her, he was here. He had come for her.

That didn’t mean she was dumb enough to believe they wouldn’t return to their biting trades and snappy insults once free from scrutiny, but for the moment, Spike had seemingly forgotten the nastiness between them. Whatever had happened—whatever she’d said—was not enough to erase his feeling or sense of aptly-timed chivalry. And true, the sense of danger was not as potent as she’d originally believed it to be, but the feeling was there all the same.

She was worth enough to him to follow, to rescue even after the way she had left him. The things she had said. He had come for her anyway.

“Right,” Faith said, snapping her out of her reverie. “With as fun as it is watching you two reminisce, your timing’s a little off, Spikey. Angel and me, we were just about to torture the hell out of B for kicks. You’re welcome to join, of course—givers and receivers are both encouraged.”

“Not gonna happen, pet, in any regard.”

Angel snickered. “You’ve resolved yourself to white armor then?” he demanded. “All for the sake of your prey? Honestly, William. To think you once had the gall to call me whipped.”

“Point being?” Spike retorted, his brows perking. “If you’re not gonna say anything interestin’, I’d appreciate it if you stepped aside. Got me a lady to rescue.”

“And she’ll…what?” Angel demanded skeptically. “Fall into your arms? Gotta tell you, Spike, all that close, personal time we’ve spent together since you skipped town? Not exactly reading that she wants you that badly.”

Buffy was tempted to call him on that but forced herself to remain silent. If Angel kept up this charade, Faith would know the truth and everything would be over. They needed to maintain the façade of Angelus until they had the needed information retracted from her—then they could run off, for all she cared. The longstanding vindictiveness pouring from her boyfriend’s mouth, while more than justified, wasn’t scoring any last-minute warm fuzzies.

“Obviously, your sense of smell has been fried by the constant subjection to that bloody awful rot you put in your hair,” Spike returned coolly. “With as much as I’ve been following the both of you these past couple days, I gotta say you’re not the one getting her worked up…” He leaned forward on his heels, unable to bat away the cocky grin spurned on his lips with sweet retribution. “Mate.”

“Has everyone forgotten the torture part of torture sessions?” Faith demanded irately. “Getting kinda bored, people!”

“Occupational hazard when you work with him,” Spike replied, nodding at his grandsire. “An’—think I was clear a second ago—you go near her an’ you’re gonna lose something.”

“You’re threatening me?” she replied, brows arching. “You? Oh, please. You’re about as scary as Angel was with a soul, and likely twice as whipped. I’m thinkin’ that when all’s said and done and you put your money where your mouth is, that you know deep down that Little Miss Buff won’t touch you if you soil one of her dainty humans.”

Spike paused at that, allowing his gaze to travel to Buffy once more, this time taking in her appearance. “You think?” he returned speculatively, eyes not leaving hers. “The Slayer doesn’ seem too happy. Something tells me she wouldn’t spend much time crying over the likes of you.”

“Better watch your pronoun agreement there,” Faith snapped, prowling forward with a stake that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. “B’s not the first, last, and only anymore, or didn’t you get the memo? And seeing as I’m not the one who’s all tied up, I’d wipe that dumbass smirk off your face and realize that you’re in way over your head. Your girl’s not going anywhere for a while, and unless you’re jonesing to join her, I’d skedaddle. Things around here are looking to get messy.” She then paused and shrugged. “But hey—if you’re looking to join in on the fun, be my guest. We’re in for a wild ride.”

Spike snickered and shook his head, the look of incredulity never faltering. “Tying up your intended? Not my idea of fun, pet. Besides, I’ve ample other things I have a right mind to do with her that’s plenty more enjoyable than the good ole fashioned bloodbath.” He spared a quick glance to Angel, who remained stoic, before stepping forward to fully consider the younger Slayer. Faith wasn’t one to scoff at. She was quick and strong and packed a mean punch—colored in the fragrance of her massive overconfidence. The passiveness on part of his grandsire only supported the illusion that the Great Poof enjoyed watching where the true loyalties lay.

“Gotta say, Liam,” Spike began, moving forward casually as he appraised Faith with a leering eye. “You rightly know how to pick them, don’t you? If it’s not one extreme, it’s the other. This one you’ve snagged’s as impure as the yellow-driven snow. She’s got spine, she has. But you’ve never fancied your birds to have much goin’ on upstairs. ‘S prob’ly why you couldn’t keep my slayer happy.”

That provoked a long chuckle from his elder, and Spike frowned, favoring him with a skeptical once-over. “Somethin’ funny?”

“Spike—” Buffy tried to interject, at last finding her voice. She was defeated the next minute when he held up a hand in motion for her to wait.

“You,” Angel replied, shaking his head. “You all over. Lecturing me on how to keep your women straight. Tell me, how is Miss Edith doing?”

“Wouldn’t know,” Spike retorted. “An’ for the record, I think the bloody doll was somethin’ of your invention.”

“I’m not the one who spent the better part of a hundred years pampering a misfit loony.”

At that, he couldn’t help the protective dark surge that billowed forward when anyone made mention of his once-black goddess. A century’s worth of love was nothing that could be vanquished easily, especially when he wasn’t entirely prepared to let go. Spike had admitted to himself after leaving Sunnydale that it was over between him and Drusilla—that didn’t mean he was ready to allow his heart’s plunder reap the toll of bad decisions. “No,” he agreed through gritted teeth. “You’re jus’ the one who made her that way.” He pivoted back to Faith speculatively. “That’s what you have to look forward to if you decide to spread your legs for dear ole daddy. ‘Course, I wasn’t around for the first couple decades. Waking up to that every mornin’ without an anecdote would prob’ly make me go bum-shagging crazy, too.”

Spike quickly turned back to Angel before Faith could get a word in. “An’ while we’re on the subject of how one spends his century,” he snapped, “why don’t we discuss yours. Hmmm? Feeding on rats, stalking high school chits. Oh, crawlin’ back to Darla on bended knee back in China?” He flashed a grin and gave him the thumbs-up. “Nice move, mate. Too bad you couldn’t off the brat. She might’ve given you the happy you were beggin’ for an spared you a good ninety years of torture.”

Angelus took the bait and stepped forward, glowering darkly. “Suppose you can tell me you’d be able to handle it, William?” he drawled. “A nasty, squirming soul filling your insides with the stench of purity? Screaming out in the voices of everyone you’ve killed. Telling you where you belong. Doing their damndest to put you in your place. Trying to make you feel…human? You’d be fortunate to last a week, much less a century. And you know what they say…what doesn’t kill you—”

“—softens the skin for the next batter who steps up to plate.” The dry smack of flesh hitting flesh sounded through the otherwise motionless room with the same impact of dry wood hitting a hollow wall. It was odd watching the larger mass of brooding muscle react with anything that could be conventionally labeled as surprise, especially where his childe was concerned. Spike smiled at that, ducking quickly as Faith reached for her stake instead of falling to the side of her so-called comrade. The girl was quick like that—but not enough to amount to anything more than a one-stand amusing sideshow. Spike twisted her stake-arm behind her back and threw her to the ground with near harmonious synchronicity.

“What I think you can’t handle, Liam,” Spike continued, prowling intently for a dry-mouthed Buffy. All was worth it simply to see her stunned into speechlessness. “Is knowing that your girl chooses one over the other, no matter which face you’re wearin’. Baby likes to play—an’ the good ole toss an’ tumble’s not rightly enough for her.” He stopped when he was inches away from his slayer, unable to help himself from caressing her astonished face with a bit of the old candor. “Innit so, sweetheart?”

Buffy’s eyes brightened at that as though only then fully registering his presence. Here. Against her. Angel and Faith were still on the floor—recovered but watching the exchange intently, positively stunned. She could relate. Her own inner monologue was slowly betraying her for something of a different tune. It was almost as easy as forgetting that the man in the audience wasn’t really who he was pretending to be. It wasn’t Angelus. It was Angel. He was…

Angel had touched her before. Caressed her face just like this and made her feel a thousand wonderful things, but it simply could not compare. Not with the concern blooming in Spike’s blue, violent eyes. Not with anything that symbolized what it was that he was doing here. Just how far he was willing to push it. How much he was willing to concede.

Because he hadn’t forgotten her. And despite all her vain attempts, all her self-loathing and hostility, she couldn’t forget him, either.

“Are you hurt?” Spike murmured, brushing his lips against her ear. How had he gotten so close? Wasn’t he across the room just seconds ago?

Time must have passed—not much, but enough to make him worried. Buffy wagered she was too forgone in her own musings to pay him much mind. “Kitten,” he said, a bit sharper. “Did they hurt you? Can you move at all?”

She blinked dazedly. “Spike…”

“I’m here, luv.”

“Spike.” There was a bit of the old bite in her tongue, and she cast a quick eye to Angel and Faith, the latter of which looked about ready to go in for some serious damage. “Hands.”

“What?”

“Mine.” Simple one-word replies. Surely he would catch on.

He did. Immediately, he sought out her wrists, intent on freeing her. When his fingers began to pry at the manacles that held her, his eyes widened and he jerked back as though bitten.

Jerked back and tossed a curious glance to Angelus.

And understood.

And smiled.

Another glance to Buffy only verified the same. The resolution he found there stopped his nonbeating heart. He fought the urge to kiss her breathless. Served the Poof bloody right.

But he had to make sure. He had to be sure that she knew what she was doing. What this meant. What it would change for them. For everyone. “Ball’s in your court, Slayer,” he told her softly. “Whas’sit gonna be?”

And again with the surprise. Buffy looked at him curiously, then realized that he was right. The ball was in her court. It came down to a choice. Her choice.

The prospect was not nearly as frightening as it had seemed an hour ago.

“Again with the bored,” Faith said, forcing her to spiral out of her thoughts. “Sorry. Something I ate didn’t go down right, and I’m making with the queasy. I think I might hurl if you two get any more lovey dovey.” She turned to Angel with a quirked brow. “And to think, you said that vampires don’t establish meaningful dialogue with slayers.”

“He wouldn’t know anything about meaningful dialogue,” Spike supplied. “Just can’t wait to sink his fangs into his next-to-latest conquest. Watch yourself, pet. Peaches might look like a pushover, but he’ll turn on you sure enough…once he’s had his fill.”

“I tried to tell her the same before you got here,” Buffy agreed, oddly conversational. “Faith’s not much on the listening front.”

“Did I miss something here?” the other Slayer demanded.

“Just several key steps falling into place,” Buffy retorted, earning a quick grin from her vampire. Regardless of endings, they needed to find some route to escape on. “When all’s said and done, look at you. Using magic to steal Angel’s soul. Must sting to know he wouldn’t touch you in the real world. And then, of course, there’s me. You had to tie me up to beat me. There’s a word for people like you, Faith: loser.”

“You don’t look beaten to me,” Spike observed, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “S’pose I could fix that later, ‘course.”

“What, because your blonde boy toy is here now, you think it’s gonna swing in your favor?” Faith chuckled incredulously. “Even if you do manage to crawl outta here, there are things in motion that are so far beyond your control, it’s not even worth mentioning.”

“What?” Buffy snapped. “Your boss’s lame Ascension? Like I couldn’t stop it.”

“You can’t.”

“I will.”

“Dream on.” Faith huffed a sigh and shook her head. “This is bullshit. All of this is complete bullshit, and it’s gone too far.” She turned to Angel. “And to think, we were gonna have all sorts of fun. Too much wastin’ on the fly for my comfort. I’ll take him if you take her. Or the other way around—whatever revs your motor. We’ve got better things to be doing than chattin’ up a couple of has-been’s who don’t know when their number’s been called.”

Spike’s eyes twinkled merrily. “Jus’ try it,” he challenged. “I’ve done in my fair share of slayers, luv.”

Angel quirked his head. “That’s not going to happen,” he said softly.

“You’re damn straight it’s not,” Faith agreed. She’d found her stake and was ready for the kill. Time was up on all accounts, and Angel had a firm grasp on her wrist before she realized what his words had meant.

“You were right about one thing,” he murmured, all façade of Angelus dropping at a whim. The brown, warm eyes of the other were back, no longer clouded with indifference. “This has gone too far.”

It took a minute before realization flooded her eyes, and another before she shot a glance to the two blondes—both freed now, the disused shackles swinging in abandonment against the wall.

“You played me,” Faith growled. “You all played me!”

“I din’t,” Spike obligatorily pointed out. “I jus’ got here. Nothin’ personal, luv.”

“And in fairness,” Buffy concluded with a shrug, “I didn’t know what he was up to until I woke up. Seemed rather obvious to me. What’s the matter, Faith? Not as perceptive as you thought?”

The other Slayer’s eyes went wide. “Oh yeah?” she spat. “Just see how long he remains on your side. What, with the boning of blondie here, I don’t really foresee the start of a beautiful—”

Before the words even had the chance to become an afterthought, Buffy projected herself across the room. It took all of two seconds to kick the stake out of Faith’s grasp, and then all was left to instinct.

The overly-dramatic Scooby entrance was all but missed in the heart of excitement. Spike glanced upward in the midst of the sudden yelling and caught Willow’s eyes. The redhead stood alongside the whelp and the colorfully-haired bloke he remembered vaguely from the previous year. The entire gang was torn between watching the battling slayers and staring dumbfound at him, as though his presence hadn’t been wholly expected.

From the stoic look on Giles’s face, however, he knew it was anything but true.

It took very little to detour Spike’s attention. As quickly as it started, the battle in the middle of the room came to a swift finale. The Slayers froze in virtually identical positions, each holding a blade to the other’s throat. Faith was winded and slightly worried—the look on Buffy’s face reflected nothing but fierce determination. It was as though she was returning home after a long leave of absence. It was the closest to herself that he had seen her since he arrived in Sunnydale, and the expression made him swell with pride, adoration and…

That warm fuzzy feeling. Love?

What an appalling notion. Made him sick to think how easily one word got stuck in his head. Ever since Willow’s more than absurd suggestion, the thought…the notion had been floating around his conscious and imposing his personal space. Moving into the darker corners of his psyche and making itself more at home. Regardless of what happened from here on out, he had a feeling the proposal was there to stay. It was too comfortable to pack everything up and move out on the same note.

Not a good time to digress.

Faith regarded the blade at her throat with a bit of the old humor when the panic abbreviated, snickering for what it was worth. “What are you gonna do, B?” she demanded. “Kill me? You become me. You’re not ready for that.” She leaned inward and planted a sisterly kiss on Buffy’s brow. “Yet.”

Then she was gone. Up and on her feet, somehow pushing beyond all restraints. Spike wagered it might be wise to go after her, but he was too concerned about Buffy to give it much thought.

Still, he wasn’t quick enough to get there before Willow fell to Buffy’s side. “Are you all right?” she demanded.

It took a minute, but Buffy nodded. “Yeah. I…we didn’t get everything we needed to. Things got a little…out of hand…” She glanced to Spike, her gaze boring through him. There was no malice there—simply a cry for understanding. He was beyond touched that she selected him as her target before glancing to Angel.

“That’s fine,” Xander said, still standing at the sidelines. The general Scooby consensus for the moment seemed to be voting in the direction of ignoring Spike entirely, which was all right by him. He half-expected to receive an earful from at least seven different parties before the night was out, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to decipher that more important things were in circulation than berating him and the Slayer for their indiscretions. “That’s fine, Buff. We’ll get to it tomorrow.”

“No.” Buffy shook her head and slowly climbing to her feet with Willow’s help. “It has to be tonight. The Mayor…he and Faith won’t expect us to…I have to know what the Ascension…what we need to gear up for. If they have the books—”

“They do,” Spike volunteered. “Thought I told you that earlier.”

A beat at that.

“Earlier?” Xander echoed.

“Earlier?” Wesley all but screeched. Spike had to refrain from chuckling with pride at the purple patch underlining his left eye. “This really is unacceptable. As your Watcher, I—”

“Yes, earlier!” Buffy shook her head furiously. “Look, this isn’t the time to scold me for my personal decisions. I saw Spike earlier…at the demon’s apartment… and…well, he knew that Faith had the books. He tried to tell me but I didn’t listen.” A sigh coursed through her at that, and she met Spike’s eyes again. “You tried to tell me about this, too, didn’t you?”

There was no need to clarify which this she referred to.

“’Bout your boy going bad? Yeh. Caught that act.” Spike’s head tilted curiously, daring to meet Angel’s eyes. “Guess that’s what it was, then, wasn’ it? An act. Shoulda caught a whiff of that the firs’ time around. You din’t fool me the last time you tried to play the bad boy…guess it jus’ took reminding you what the prat acts like to pull the part off with any measure of success. Isn’t that right?”

Angel’s gaze was trained steadfast on the ground, resolutely refusing to meet Buffy’s eyes—which was fine, because she wasn’t looking at him, either. “Giles…he…” he began, fighting for control. “We talked earlier. Said a mage had come to him…hired by the Mayor to retract my soul. I agreed to play the double-agent and get as much information as I could.” He trailed off with a sigh, tension dropping from his shoulders. “That went well.”

Giles took that as his cue to excuse himself. “I tried to tell you before you left, Buffy—”

Buffy held up a hand, collecting her thoughts. Again, Spike had to school himself to restraint. While all these sprouting dramatics had a penchant for the funny, he wasn’t about to let his mirth control the situation, especially when he knew how important it was to her. There were times and places for all the other, and this was definitely not one of them. “It’s all right,” she assured him. “Yeah, it would’ve been nice to be on the ‘in,’ but you did try to tell me before I left. I know that.” A sigh coursed through her tired body. “If I had known…we could’ve…”

“That was the plan,” Angel grumbled.

Her eyes flashed. “So sorry if my ignorance spoiled your James Bond scenario.”

Spike all but cackled with glee. He’d been handed a starring role in that three-act show in front of the wanker and now he was getting a front-row seat to a fight? Who knew that God blessed demons? “Ohhh,” he drawled tauntingly. “Lover’s quarrel.”

At that, Angel and Buffy pivoted to glare at him. “Shut up, Spike!” they snapped.

His hands came up. “Hey. Innocent bystander, here.”

“Right,” Angel barked. “Innocent.”

“Don’ get mouthy with me, Peaches. After all, it wasn’ me who—”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed and she silenced him without having to say a word. Spike merely met her gaze, watched, and nodded. They had come too far tonight to be set back because of his big yap.

“They won’t expect us to try anything again so soon,” she continued. “That’s why, if we want any information at all, we have to go now.”

“What do you have in mind?” Willow asked softly.

Buffy sighed. “I’m going to the Mayor’s office. He’s bound to have something there—even if it is a small something. Anything right now would be a good. I’m not going to let this set us back.”

“You really think he’d leave his important ‘I’m about to Ascend, ask me how’ papers out for anyone to see?” Xander asked skeptically.

“No. I’m anticipating getting my hands dirty. There’ll be some digging involved.” She stepped forward intently. “You guys have a bad habit of not listening to me when I tell you to not follow me, but don’t follow me. I can’t do this and worry about you, too. I need you to go back to the library and wait for me. Trust me…you’ll know if something of the bad happens.”

“I don’t like this, Buffy…” Giles began.

“Tough. Deal.” Her eyes fell to the floor for endless seconds before finally traveling back to Spike’s. Her vampire.

His slayer.

Spike took an unnecessary breath. With all his experience, he had never really seen a slayer in the midst of her duty. And yeah, while she was technically pulling for the side he should dispute, the sight of her was enough to steal his heart all over again.

“Besides,” she said, speaking to no one in particular. “I won’t be alone.”

No specifics were made, but Spike knew that he was going with her. There was no getting around that. Angel was welcome to tag along. It didn’t matter. She had him at first glance.

Something in her eyes told him that she had already consigned herself to this fact, and that was the reason she didn’t protest when he stepped forward at her unspoken cue. “Right then,” he drawled, extending his hand. “To the belly of the bloody beast an’ back. You ready, luv?”

There it was. The challenge lain out on the table: waiting for her to claim or rebuke. Waiting for her acceptance or refusal. Waiting for finality—knowing that no matter her choice, it would change everything.

Knowing it would break him if she denied him her touch.

Buffy paused for a long minute. She glanced at Angel, whose pained expression remained glued steadfast to the ground. And while Spike felt her heart churn for him, it did not stop her from locking eyes with his and stepping forward intently.

Then their fingers entwined, their palms pressed together, and they were joined by warmth.

“Yes,” she agreed. “Let’s go.”

The final stepping-stone. No turning back from this. Everything changed with three simple words.

No turning back.

Unsurprisingly, he found the notion rather warming.

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