Chapter Seventeen
“I don’t want to sit down. I want to know where Spike is.” Buffy said, looking wildly between her mother’s and her Watcher’s faces. Joyce moved to put her arm over her daughter’s shoulder, but Buffy shoved her away. Panic rushed through her as she looked at them. Angel stood silently next to her, wanting to comfort her, but not knowing how. He ignored the stab of pain at the knowledge that her fear was for his childe. He’d burned his bridges with her, now all he could do was help get Spike back.
“Buffy, please. Come sit down.” Joyce pleaded, taking her hand. Buffy finally complied, knowing they wouldn’t tell her until she was sitting.
“Angel, i- if you please. I think it best that you leave.” Giles said, barely contained resentment suffusing his words.
“No.” Buffy said from her place on the couch. Both Giles and her mother, not to mention Angel, looked surprised. “He has a right to know. Spike is, for lack of a better term, his. Maybe he can help.” She finished, not making eye contact with the brunette.
“Very well.” Giles conceded, his facial expression telling them he was not happy with it. “Angel, please sit down” Angel moved past the Watcher into the living room, then sat in a chair as far away from Buffy as he could manage. He didn’t want to cause her any more stress.
“What happened?” Buffy demanded, as soon as everybody was settled.
“Well, when we got there, we found the Council in an uproar. It would seem, that Quentin Travers was ousted.”
“Why?” The Slayer asked, not seeing what this had to do with Spike.
“Because he was keeping it from the other members that Slayers kept their souls.”
“Why was he doing that?”
“Travers was of the belief, that all vampires were a potential danger. He was right to think that way of course. In light of what has happened here, and with Spike, even souls aren’t a guarantee.” Giles said, his well placed barb hitting Angel. He flinched but said nothing, waiting for the rest of the story. Unlike them he had been present for most of Spike’s walk on the wild side with Druscilla.
“I don’t understand. WHAT does this have to do with Spike?” She demanded, her notoriously short temper starting to spark.
“Quite a bit, actually. When Travers was unseated, the new Council Head asked for all the information on Spike. ALL of it. From the ritual that made him, to the current day. In that, they found Travers’ notes on the Slayer in New York. It would seem, that when it was learned that she had been turned, he’d had a very powerful magic user do a spell to find out whether or not she had retained her soul.” Buffy’s eyes widened at that. He had always known. “According to his notes, the findings came back positive, but he still sent Spike after her.”
“Okay, Travers is a bastard and should burn for a very long time in Hell. When do we get to the guys shooting Spike with drugs and carrying him off to London to stand trial?” Buffy insisted, yet again. Giles really could go on when he warmed to a subject, and this didn’t seem to be any different.
“Er, yes. I’m sorry. The gentleman in charge of the Council now, a man by the name of Nigel Lancaster, has deemed Spike as no longer necessary.”
“No longer necessary?!” She gasped in shock. Fear bloomed anew in her chest at that. Even Angel seemed paler that usual.
“Buffy, honey. Let him finish.” Joyce urged, her eyes willing Giles to hurry up.
“I-It would seem that where Travers was able to overlook the things Spike had done while he was with Druscilla, Lancaster is not of the same mind. Spike was created to dispose of the threat of a turned Slayer. Not indulge in the life of a vampire. Since it has been determined that his original purpose is not actually a risk, they have decided, in their ultimate wisdom, that he should be held accountable for his actions during that time period.” The last part was said with a touch of Ripper lacing the words.
“What does that mean exactly?” Buffy asked carefully, her entire body hurt from what she feared was coming next.
“He will be brought before a Council Assembly, t-to stand trial for his actions. If he is found innocent, he will be allowed to leave, and resume his duties. However. . .” Giles paused, his glasses being whisked from his nose again to scrub his shirt furiously over them.
“However WHAT?!” Buffy screamed the word as Giles’ hedging finally got to her. He jumped at the ferocity of her tone. He reminded himself as he looked into her flashing yellow eyes, while yes, Buffy was a vampire with a soul, her demon would still rear up with her mate in danger.
“Buffy!” Joyce snapped, her tone telling her daughter to calm down. Buffy did so reluctantly, blinking back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. She dared a look at Angel, and saw that he wasn’t taking the stalling much better.
“If he is found guilty, I’m afraid, the sentence will be death.”
“What?!” Buffy and Angel both roared, their demons on the surface. Angel for his childe, and Buffy for her mate.
“No, abso-fucking-lutely not.” Buffy sprang to her feet, yellow eyes glittering as she paced restlessly across the room. “NO!” she screamed, her pain filled demonic visage twisted as tears streamed down her face.
“Buffy, you have to calm down. This won’t help Spike.” Joyce stood to try to calm her daughter, only to stumble back into Giles when Buffy turned and growled at her. An answering growl came from across the room, and Buffy immediately shifted back into human form. She glared bitterly at Angel for his use of his sire dominance, until she saw his face. His damaged features were a mask of agony. Spike was made from him. Angels’ blood flowed through him as it flowed through Buffy, it didn’t matter how it got there. Spike, favored Childe of Angelus, was in danger. Buffy’s entire demeanor softened as she looked at him, her anger at him easing off even more. Wiping the tears away, she straightened her shoulders and turned to look at the startled humans. Giles only had a brief understanding of what had just occurred between the two vampires, and he was angry at Angel for asserting his authority over his Slayer. But the look of steely determination in her eyes stayed whatever he might have said.
“I’m going.” she said simply, the strength in her voice flowing through the room. Angel stood, raising himself to his full height.
“So am I.” His eyes willed them not to argue.
“B-Buffy, ” Giles started, only to be cut off again by the flash of yellow in her eyes.
“NO! Can you get us there?” she asked Angel, who nodded already moving towards the phone.
“Buffy!” Giles started again, stepping towards her. He didn’t back down when she snarled at him, and he grabbed her by her arms, forcing her to look at him. “We already have passage back.” He told her. She blinked her eyes as his words sunk in.
“When do we leave? And we have to make sure Angel can go, too.”
“This evening.” He said, cursing inwardly at having to cross international waters again. But, he would dive into Hell headfirst if it would erase the look of pain in Buffy’s eyes.
“Good, I’m going to pack. Give Angel the flight information, so he can get booked.” She ordered, making her way upstairs.
“She’s not going to be happy that she has to travel in a crate.” Joyce said, watching her daughter disappear upstairs. Giles smiled down at Joyce, a gentle hand brushing across her cheek before turning to the dark haired vampire.
Spike woke with a start, cursing violently at the white, hot throb of pain behind his eyes. A groan escaped him when he tried to roll over, causing the throb to increase to a pound.
“Bugger.” he breathed, pushing a hand against his head, trying to hold the pain away.
“You’re awake.” A voice to his left said. Hazarding to open and eye, he tried to focus it on the man standing behind the bars. It took him a minute to realize that HE was the one behind the bars, not the other way around.
“So to speak.” He croaked, wincing at the pain speaking caused. *What kind of drugs did they use?* he growled inwardly. “You mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”
“No need for unpleasantness, Mr. Carlisle.” the man said amicably. This caused the scarred eyebrow to shoot up, that action eliciting another groan from the vampire. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself into a sitting position, pushing the nausea away forcefully. He raised his eyes to look at the man, not recognizing him. He was tall, about Angel’s height and build, with black hair and green eyes. His face held the air of an educated man, a man not easily fooled.
“A bunch of guys attack me, shoot me full of horse tranquilizer, and cart me off to merry old England to drop me in a cell so I can wake up with a hangover worse than after any drinking binge I’ve been on, and you don’t think there’s any reason for unpleasantness?” He snorted in disgust, reaching into his pockets for his cigarette. Not to mention making me leave Buffy. He wouldn’t say anything about her though, not to this man. Tucking away her memory so he could deal with the problem at hand, he, scowled when all he found in his pocket was some lint. He turned to glare at the man once again. “Where the fuck are my fags?” he growled. The man, still unnamed, smirked, and drew one out of his pocket. Holding it out, Spike fought the wave of sickness once more as he crossed to take it. A match flared and was held against the tip, while he greedily sucked the acrid smoke into his lungs.
“Allow me to introduce myself, Mr. Carlisle. I am Nigel Lancaster, and I am the reason you are here.” Spike blew stream of smoke into the mans face, his smile sinister as Lancaster grimaced.
“Why?” he demanded, inhaling once more. “Where’s Travers? He’s the only one I deal with.” The blond told him.
“Not any more. I am the new Head of Council. And that means you are under my authority.” Two dark brows drew together at this as confusion settled over him.
“Alright. Still don’t explain the cage, mate.”
“They didn’t tell you the charges?” He inquired, making a mental note to reprimand the recovery team.
“They gibbered something about crimes against humanity and some such nonsense about a trial.” Spike said, his casual stance contradicting the promise of violence in his blue orbs.
“I trust you, it isn’t gibberish, Mr. Carlisle.”
“Quit calling me that. Name’s Spike. Or didn’t you get the memo?” Lancaster just regarded him with cool, green eyes before continuing.
“Fine, Spike. You are to stand trial for your actions between the years of 1881 and 1930. If you are found innocent, you will be free to leave. If you are found guilty, you will die. Is that plain enough for you?” Spike showed no outward reaction to his words. But his mind was screaming with agony at the thought of Buffy, and all that was being ripped from both of them by his mindlessness.
“A little late now, don’t you think?” He asked, his voice icy. He tossed the cigarette on the floor and crushed it out with agitated movements.
“There is no time limit on punishment for murder.” Was the reply. Spike’s eyes shot up to the cold face of the man before him. He knew he was royally fucked. No way was this man going to let him get away with what he had done. No matter what else Spike had done over the years was going to matter to him. It didn’t matter how many apocalypses he had help avert, or how many dangers to society he had neutralized. It would never be enough in this man’s eyes.
Seeing that they were in perfect understanding of each other, Lancaster offered him a cold smile and turned to leave. As he walked away, he tossed out one last parting shot.
“Oh, and if she show up here, and tries to interfere in any way. She will be exterminated. Soul or not.” Then he was gone, Spike’s snarls following him.
Spike leaned heavily on the bars once he was left alone again. Tears came unbidden to his eyes as he pictured her in his head. He felt the pull on their bond, knowing that she was indeed coming, and he sent his own feeling back. Hoping that she would understand his need for her not to be here. He couldn’t see her punished for his actions. He sent everything he felt to her, begging her to let him go.
Buffy’s howl of almost physical pain echoed through the house, as a wave of despair and hopelessness overcame her. Angel made it to her first, understanding clearly etched across her face. She looked up at him, tears pouring from her once again yellow eyes as she felt what Spike was asking her. In denial, she shook her head, instinctively reaching for her sire. Joyce and Giles watched from the doorway, helplessness filling their features.
Angel had her in his arms in an instant, fighting his own pain. Hers, Spike’s and his blood were one, and the bond between them was screaming with grief. He growled softly to her, trying to calm her. When she finally did, she pulled away to sit with her arms wrapped around her knees. He ignored the stab of hurt that caused, reminding himself that this wasn’t about him. Having his childer together and safe was all that mattered.
“I’m not letting him do this.” She said, steel lancing through her voice.
“Good.” was all Angel said, glad that she wasn’t going to give up.
“If he dies, I die.” She said, pushing herself from the floor and continuing with her packing. She didn’t see the shock that filled the faces behind her.