Preview time!
OK, guys, normally I try not to publish things which are this rough, but fuck it, it has been YEARS and I feel like I owe the six of you who are still hoping to read the rest of POM someday something. So here is the crappy first draft of Ch. 14, scene 1. (If you feel like leaving critical comments, please do. It needs savaging.)
As Tara collapsed into Willow's arms, the silver cross, still straining at the end of its chain towards the stone, collapsed with her. Only a necklace again, and not the needle of Angel's moral compass. Buffy snatched it and held it tight, till her palms ached where the metal dug into the flesh. She could almost imagine the cross burning her hand, as if she were the vampire.
Angel wouldn't, couldn't be doing the things Spike had described if he still had a soul. He might be infuriatingly high-handed sometimes, but he wasn't some kind of undead Don Corleone. Okay, fine, he'd basically put out a hit on Spike last year, and there'd been that whole episode with Resurrected Darla - she was certain she didn't know all the details there, and was even more certain she didn't want to - and that thing with the submarine, though Spike wasn't the world's most reliable narrator where Angel was concerned, and that had been forever ago and Angel had been really depressed back then and it shouldn't count, should it? And anyway, he'd said he'd had an epiphany, hadn't he?
Buffy forced herself to take a breath and relax. Or to take a breath, at least. Damn Angel anyway. There was a corner of her heart that would always be his, just as she suspected that a corner of Spike's heart would always belong to Drusilla, so why couldn't they both just stay in their respective corners, safely cocooned in nostalgia? It would make life so much simpler.
Everyone else was still arguing. Giles, bless him, had intercepted Kennedy and the Finns, but Dawn pounced on Spike with the speed and ferocity of Miss Kitty hunting the wily laser pointer. "Come on, spill! What plan?"
"Doesn't bloody matter what plan, because it's bugfuck insane, and we're not having it."
He really wasn't at a hundred percent yet. Insane plans were the last thing that was likely to put Dawn off. Her sister folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that this is the twenty-first century, and I can just, like, phone Cordy and ask her what it is?"
Spike's jaw worked, and he glanced up at the ceiling and then over at her, as if imploring the heavens and the Slayer in order of importance. Buffy sighed. "We kinda used her for First Evil bait last year, Spike. The protect-poor-innocent-Dawnie ship has sailed, lost radio contact, and disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle."
"I miss the days when a bloke could cut a sodding phone line," Spike muttered. "All bloody right, here's the gist. Chase had the idea this Burkle chit can use Dawn to pop into another dimension, where we'll conveniently run into no slavering monsters whatsoever, traipse across the landscape without falling into any inconvenient pits of molten lava, and pop back into this world in the Hyperion's safe. Then she fancies we can drag this Gunn bloke back the in same manner as whence we came, no doubt scattering sodding rose petals in our wake. I told her - "
"But I can do that!" Dawn exclaimed, whirling on Buffy. "You know I can. I got us to Pylea and back last summer! We could drive close to the Hyperion as we can, cross over into the other dimension, hike to the spot where the Hyperion would be, cross back into our world, rescue the prisoners, and cross back to the World of No Slavering Monsters to get back to the car, and then cross back into our world again." At Spike's dubious expression, her own grew obstinate. "Seriously, how is this worse than you sneaking in and out of Angel's hotel through the sewers, which are definitely full of slavering monsters?"
You had to admit Spike was giving it the old college try. "And supposing we miss the safe? Pop out in the middle of the lobby? Or the middle of a wall?"
"You said Mr. Tanner's with them, right?" Dawn replied, smug. "He's a geomancer, remember? He specializes in topographic magic. I'll bet he can come up with something to get us to the right spot. I'm not dumb. I know this is going to be dangerous, but you need me. It's not like I'm going on some solo mission here. I'll be with you and Buffy, and Faith might even get here by then. All I'm going to do is stand around and exude Key vibes while you guys make with the punchy-kicky." She looked Spike in the eye. "I did fine in Pylea, didn't I? If this was some random nest of vampires..."
"But it's not." Buffy hated the brittleness in her voice. "If Angel's really... it took everything I had to beat him last time." More.
"You have a lot more now than you had then," Dawn said, her voice softening. "You're only alone if you want to be, Buffy. Let me help. Please."
She'd had help last time, too. How could she explain to Dawn that the memory which haunted her nightmares even now was the result of that help: the look of stunned betrayal on Angel's face as she plunged the sword into his heart? If Willow had called his soul back five minutes later, or half an hour sooner... Dawn had never known that particular flavor of heartbreak.
She took her sister's hand. "Thanks, Dawnie. But - "
"No buts. I get it," Dawn said with the certainty of someone who didn't. "You have all this romantic baggage, and Spike has all these weird-ass vampire daddy issues - "
"Oi!"
"Well, you do! But you guys have fought demons, and wizards, and gods. I'm not saying Angel isn't a badass, but repeat after me: He's only a vampire."
Spike's lips twitched in a rueful smile. "Bit might have a point, love."
Rats. She did. Buffy grimaced. "You're not supposed to be the insightful sister."
"I've always been the insightful sister." Dawn let her go and bounced back with a grin. "So I'm coming with you, right?"
"You're coming." Buffy straightened. "OK, people. Spike and I leave for L.A. tomorrow morning. Kennedy, Willow, Tara, Giles, you're all with us - we'll take two cars if we have to. Riley, do whatever you need to to get your people there, and let me know when you'll arrive. And make sure they know not to randomly stake anything with fangs. Spike's called in some favors from the local vamps, and while I'm not gonna cry bitter tears if some of them come home in a Dust Buster, I don't want to waste troops. We won't know how many of them will keep their word till they actually show up in L.A., so Xander, can you and Anya stay here and coordinate things with David, and let us know how many are coming and when they'll meet up with us?"
Xander nodded; if he was disappointed not to be tagged for combat duty, he didn't show it. "Anya and I can pack up the weapons and supplies tonight, if you want to get some rest, Buff."
Buffy shot him a grateful look. "That would be great. We'll talk to Cordy in the morning about someplace to stash any allied vamps. Riley?"
Riley exchanged a look with Sam. "We've got some fast talking to do with Headquarters. I'll keep you updated."
Team Finn rose in tandem and headed for the door. Giles, having assessed the population of Casa Summers and deemed it excessive, was phoning a hotel. Willow was fussing around with Tara, and -
"What are we going to do with Grandpa when we get there, Slayer?"
And Spike was looking at her like he expected her to have an answer for that. Maybe she did. "After we catch him? We can enroll him in Riley's chiphead program if we have to. At least until we find out what's going on."
Spike frowned. "You think a chip in the head's gonna be enough? For Angel?"
How was this even a question? "It was enough for you. And it's only temporary."
"It was an excuse to hang about in your general vicinity. Not that I'd have admitted as much at the time." His tone was serious; Spike wasn't even trying to pick a fight, damn him, and she really wanted to punch something in the nose right now. "Angel, he won't put up with it, not for the pleasure of anyone's company."
Buffy choked back a bitter sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "'A more permanent solution,' huh? Maybe everyone's right. It took me... so long, last time. To... do what I had to. And people died for it. I can't let that happen again. But I can't..." The words dried up in her throat, too painful to force out. "All of you want me to kill him, don't you?" She was shaking. "So easy for all of you to say, because he's not your friend or your lover. Well, you know what? Screw that! Drusilla's up there with him, and I haven't once questioned that you'll be able to handle her!"
Spike's eyes flashed yellow for a second, but he didn't rise to the bait. Maybe his L.A. adventure had really knocked some restraint into him after all. "Yeah, well, maybe you should. I promised you Dru's ashes once, if ever you gave me a crumb. P'raps you've noticed that she's not actually a big pile of dust yet, for all I've gotten the whole sodding cake by now." His shoulders drooped. "Fuck it all, pet, I don't want you to kill him. I hate his sodding guts, but he's family. It's just... you keep talking as if you can fix him. What if there's nothing to fix? What if he really has just stopped trying?"
"Then we convince him to start trying again. We didn't give up on Willow when the First had her, did we?"
Spike stood silent for a moment, his bright head bowed. Then he sighed. "Fair do's," he said. Whatever that meant. "You know I'll back you, Slayer. I've got no doubts you'll do as you have to. Whatever that turns out to be. Just needed to have my say first."
The unshakable confidence in his voice was... not cheering, exactly, but something. She laid her forehead against his shoulder, saying with touch what couldn't be said with words. After a moment his arm snaked around her shoulders, and she felt the uneven rise and fall of his chest gradually match the rhythm of her own breathing. She wondered if he even realized that he did that. "I've got to get some sleep. You coming up?"
He glanced across the room. "Up in a mo.' Want a word with Tara. Bird's had a rough night of it,"
Join the club. "OK. See you in a bit."
It occurred to her, as she climbed the stairs, that if the worst ever happened between the two of them, Spike would see that final stroke from her hands as an affirmation rather than a betrayal: a little gesture to show that she cared. Which was weird and sick and vampirey, and also... strangely comforting.
No wonder Angel was convinced she'd come back from heaven wrong.
TBD
Rants Talk to me
As Tara collapsed into Willow's arms, the silver cross, still straining at the end of its chain towards the stone, collapsed with her. Only a necklace again, and not the needle of Angel's moral compass. Buffy snatched it and held it tight, till her palms ached where the metal dug into the flesh. She could almost imagine the cross burning her hand, as if she were the vampire.
Angel wouldn't, couldn't be doing the things Spike had described if he still had a soul. He might be infuriatingly high-handed sometimes, but he wasn't some kind of undead Don Corleone. Okay, fine, he'd basically put out a hit on Spike last year, and there'd been that whole episode with Resurrected Darla - she was certain she didn't know all the details there, and was even more certain she didn't want to - and that thing with the submarine, though Spike wasn't the world's most reliable narrator where Angel was concerned, and that had been forever ago and Angel had been really depressed back then and it shouldn't count, should it? And anyway, he'd said he'd had an epiphany, hadn't he?
Buffy forced herself to take a breath and relax. Or to take a breath, at least. Damn Angel anyway. There was a corner of her heart that would always be his, just as she suspected that a corner of Spike's heart would always belong to Drusilla, so why couldn't they both just stay in their respective corners, safely cocooned in nostalgia? It would make life so much simpler.
Everyone else was still arguing. Giles, bless him, had intercepted Kennedy and the Finns, but Dawn pounced on Spike with the speed and ferocity of Miss Kitty hunting the wily laser pointer. "Come on, spill! What plan?"
"Doesn't bloody matter what plan, because it's bugfuck insane, and we're not having it."
He really wasn't at a hundred percent yet. Insane plans were the last thing that was likely to put Dawn off. Her sister folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "You do realize that this is the twenty-first century, and I can just, like, phone Cordy and ask her what it is?"
Spike's jaw worked, and he glanced up at the ceiling and then over at her, as if imploring the heavens and the Slayer in order of importance. Buffy sighed. "We kinda used her for First Evil bait last year, Spike. The protect-poor-innocent-Dawnie ship has sailed, lost radio contact, and disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle."
"I miss the days when a bloke could cut a sodding phone line," Spike muttered. "All bloody right, here's the gist. Chase had the idea this Burkle chit can use Dawn to pop into another dimension, where we'll conveniently run into no slavering monsters whatsoever, traipse across the landscape without falling into any inconvenient pits of molten lava, and pop back into this world in the Hyperion's safe. Then she fancies we can drag this Gunn bloke back the in same manner as whence we came, no doubt scattering sodding rose petals in our wake. I told her - "
"But I can do that!" Dawn exclaimed, whirling on Buffy. "You know I can. I got us to Pylea and back last summer! We could drive close to the Hyperion as we can, cross over into the other dimension, hike to the spot where the Hyperion would be, cross back into our world, rescue the prisoners, and cross back to the World of No Slavering Monsters to get back to the car, and then cross back into our world again." At Spike's dubious expression, her own grew obstinate. "Seriously, how is this worse than you sneaking in and out of Angel's hotel through the sewers, which are definitely full of slavering monsters?"
You had to admit Spike was giving it the old college try. "And supposing we miss the safe? Pop out in the middle of the lobby? Or the middle of a wall?"
"You said Mr. Tanner's with them, right?" Dawn replied, smug. "He's a geomancer, remember? He specializes in topographic magic. I'll bet he can come up with something to get us to the right spot. I'm not dumb. I know this is going to be dangerous, but you need me. It's not like I'm going on some solo mission here. I'll be with you and Buffy, and Faith might even get here by then. All I'm going to do is stand around and exude Key vibes while you guys make with the punchy-kicky." She looked Spike in the eye. "I did fine in Pylea, didn't I? If this was some random nest of vampires..."
"But it's not." Buffy hated the brittleness in her voice. "If Angel's really... it took everything I had to beat him last time." More.
"You have a lot more now than you had then," Dawn said, her voice softening. "You're only alone if you want to be, Buffy. Let me help. Please."
She'd had help last time, too. How could she explain to Dawn that the memory which haunted her nightmares even now was the result of that help: the look of stunned betrayal on Angel's face as she plunged the sword into his heart? If Willow had called his soul back five minutes later, or half an hour sooner... Dawn had never known that particular flavor of heartbreak.
She took her sister's hand. "Thanks, Dawnie. But - "
"No buts. I get it," Dawn said with the certainty of someone who didn't. "You have all this romantic baggage, and Spike has all these weird-ass vampire daddy issues - "
"Oi!"
"Well, you do! But you guys have fought demons, and wizards, and gods. I'm not saying Angel isn't a badass, but repeat after me: He's only a vampire."
Spike's lips twitched in a rueful smile. "Bit might have a point, love."
Rats. She did. Buffy grimaced. "You're not supposed to be the insightful sister."
"I've always been the insightful sister." Dawn let her go and bounced back with a grin. "So I'm coming with you, right?"
"You're coming." Buffy straightened. "OK, people. Spike and I leave for L.A. tomorrow morning. Kennedy, Willow, Tara, Giles, you're all with us - we'll take two cars if we have to. Riley, do whatever you need to to get your people there, and let me know when you'll arrive. And make sure they know not to randomly stake anything with fangs. Spike's called in some favors from the local vamps, and while I'm not gonna cry bitter tears if some of them come home in a Dust Buster, I don't want to waste troops. We won't know how many of them will keep their word till they actually show up in L.A., so Xander, can you and Anya stay here and coordinate things with David, and let us know how many are coming and when they'll meet up with us?"
Xander nodded; if he was disappointed not to be tagged for combat duty, he didn't show it. "Anya and I can pack up the weapons and supplies tonight, if you want to get some rest, Buff."
Buffy shot him a grateful look. "That would be great. We'll talk to Cordy in the morning about someplace to stash any allied vamps. Riley?"
Riley exchanged a look with Sam. "We've got some fast talking to do with Headquarters. I'll keep you updated."
Team Finn rose in tandem and headed for the door. Giles, having assessed the population of Casa Summers and deemed it excessive, was phoning a hotel. Willow was fussing around with Tara, and -
"What are we going to do with Grandpa when we get there, Slayer?"
And Spike was looking at her like he expected her to have an answer for that. Maybe she did. "After we catch him? We can enroll him in Riley's chiphead program if we have to. At least until we find out what's going on."
Spike frowned. "You think a chip in the head's gonna be enough? For Angel?"
How was this even a question? "It was enough for you. And it's only temporary."
"It was an excuse to hang about in your general vicinity. Not that I'd have admitted as much at the time." His tone was serious; Spike wasn't even trying to pick a fight, damn him, and she really wanted to punch something in the nose right now. "Angel, he won't put up with it, not for the pleasure of anyone's company."
Buffy choked back a bitter sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. "'A more permanent solution,' huh? Maybe everyone's right. It took me... so long, last time. To... do what I had to. And people died for it. I can't let that happen again. But I can't..." The words dried up in her throat, too painful to force out. "All of you want me to kill him, don't you?" She was shaking. "So easy for all of you to say, because he's not your friend or your lover. Well, you know what? Screw that! Drusilla's up there with him, and I haven't once questioned that you'll be able to handle her!"
Spike's eyes flashed yellow for a second, but he didn't rise to the bait. Maybe his L.A. adventure had really knocked some restraint into him after all. "Yeah, well, maybe you should. I promised you Dru's ashes once, if ever you gave me a crumb. P'raps you've noticed that she's not actually a big pile of dust yet, for all I've gotten the whole sodding cake by now." His shoulders drooped. "Fuck it all, pet, I don't want you to kill him. I hate his sodding guts, but he's family. It's just... you keep talking as if you can fix him. What if there's nothing to fix? What if he really has just stopped trying?"
"Then we convince him to start trying again. We didn't give up on Willow when the First had her, did we?"
Spike stood silent for a moment, his bright head bowed. Then he sighed. "Fair do's," he said. Whatever that meant. "You know I'll back you, Slayer. I've got no doubts you'll do as you have to. Whatever that turns out to be. Just needed to have my say first."
The unshakable confidence in his voice was... not cheering, exactly, but something. She laid her forehead against his shoulder, saying with touch what couldn't be said with words. After a moment his arm snaked around her shoulders, and she felt the uneven rise and fall of his chest gradually match the rhythm of her own breathing. She wondered if he even realized that he did that. "I've got to get some sleep. You coming up?"
He glanced across the room. "Up in a mo.' Want a word with Tara. Bird's had a rough night of it,"
Join the club. "OK. See you in a bit."
It occurred to her, as she climbed the stairs, that if the worst ever happened between the two of them, Spike would see that final stroke from her hands as an affirmation rather than a betrayal: a little gesture to show that she cared. Which was weird and sick and vampirey, and also... strangely comforting.
No wonder Angel was convinced she'd come back from heaven wrong.
TBD
Rants Talk to me