Chapter Eighteen
Nigel Lancaster sat behind the large mahogany desk, leaning slightly back in the maroon padded chair and regarded the two humans and two vampire’s sitting in front of him. They stared back with barely concealed hostility, something he hadn’t expected from the Watcher. But, maybe he should have. Rupert Giles, for all his mild mannered appearances, had been a very dangerous man in his youth. The human woman was sitting in wide backed chair, holding her vampire daughters hand, and glaring daggers at him. The Slayer herself was barely restraining herself from jumping across the desk at him. Every few seconds, he would see a flash of yellow in her hazel depths.
And there, right behind her, was the Scourge of Europe himself. As soon as he had entered the building, he had set off the alarms, and Lancaster had to notify security NOT to attack. He wanted to see what they would do. He had instructed them to be shown to his office, immediately. Angelus stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, bruises marring his face. The damage made him look no less dangerous.
Lancaster put a polite smile in his face, and looked at Giles.
“What can I do for you?” He asked, keeping his voice mild. Giles stepped forward, holding himself with dignity. Lancaster would have expect no less from a Watcher.
“We are here to see Spike.” The Watcher told him, keeping his blue eyes level with the Council Head’s green ones.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. He is scheduled to start trial in the morning.”
“What?!” The Slayer exclaimed, jumping from her seat. Her mother immediately grabbed her hand again in an effort to pull Buffy back into her chair. But, Buffy’s superior strength hindered her. “Tomorrow? Don’t you think that’s rushing a bit. His lawyer would have had no time to prepare.” Buffy said, bristling under Lancaster’s indulgent smile.
“Why would he have council?” Nigel ask, and if possible, Buffy got paler. Angel’s eyes narrowed into slits at that, but, he decided to hold his tongue for the moment.
“WHY WOULD HE HAVE COUNCIL?” Buffy yelled, pulling completely away from her mother to lean on the desk. She backed up a step when she saw the small cross bow aimed at her.
“If you please, back up.” He said, his cultured voice cold. Giles reached out to take her arm.
“Buffy, let me handle this.” He said, waiting until she sat down again before turning to the man behind the desk. “Would you please explain to us why a man accused does not have council.” He asked, his voice lined with steel. Nigel merely raised a brow, but leaned forward to pin the Slayer with his eyes.
“Why would a man, who is not really a man, be given a lawyer to defend him against crimes he has admitted to committing?” He asked her, watching her eyes widen as understanding rushed through her.
“The trial is just a bunch of shit, isn’t it?”
“Buffy!” her mother admonished, half heartedly, turning and looking at Lancaster herself. Angel stepped forward, his large presence drawing the gaze of the man behind the desk. Nigel felt a quick jolt of uneasiness at the look on the vampire’s face.
“No, mom. The trial is just some cover or something, to make it look like they gave him a fair trial. Their going to kill him no matter what.” Buffy exclaimed, her voice bordering on shrill. She could feel him, in this building filled with artwork and leather, that smelled like money and power. He was here, and she couldn’t get to him. And, if the sinister smile on Nigel Lancaster’s face was any indication, she would never get to him.
“Let us see him.” Angel spoke for the first time.
“I’m afraid that is. . .” The slap of Giles’ palm on the leather desk blotter made the man jump in his seat.
“Let. Us. See. Him.” Giles told him, in a low voice, anger dancing in his eyes.
“You know I can’t.” Nigel insisted, his own orbs flashing. He had only been in power for a few days, but, there were reasons as to why he was chosen. And allowing those under his command to threaten him, either verbally or with actions, was not one of them. “Unless you would like to find yourself in that cell with him, I suggest that you remove your hand.” The two Council members stared at each other for another moment before Giles dropped his eyes and backed away.
“What will it matter, if you let us see him? You’ve already decided his fate, allow us to say goodbye.” Giles said, not daring to look at his Slayer. Buffy sat rigid next to her mother, eyes unseeing as she stared at the book lined wall. Her knuckles were white from where she was clutching them in her lap. Pain lanced through her at Giles’ words, and she blinked back tears. She would not let them fall in front of this man.
Nigel stared at them all, in particular the two vampires. They were both holding themselves stiff, emotion wiped from their faces. They were proud, and would not break in front of him, and he respected that. Dropping his eyes to the desk, he nodded, then looked up again.
“Never let it be said that I am a cold hearted man.” He began. Joyce covered up her snort with a delicate cough. “You may see him. One at a time.” He stressed, making eye contact with each of them. “And you will be searched before you enter. Also, the bars were made strong for someone with his superior strength. You will not be able to break them.” He told Angel and Buffy. Angel’s face remained impassive, and Buffy merely blinked at him.
“I want to stay with him.”
“What?” Nigel inclined his head towards her, unsure if he had heard her right.
“I said, I want to stay with him. I have done my duty for you since I was called, and I think that the least of your repayment for those services should be allowing me to spend my mate’s last night with him.” Nigel was surprised. His informant had told him that they were intimate. He’d had know idea that they were mated. Noting the raw pain in her eyes, he nodded once in acquiescence. No matter what they thought, he was not a heartless man.
“Very well.” He said, picking up the phone and punching a button. After speaking briefly with someone on the other end, he replaced the receiver. “Andrew will take you down there. I beseech you not to betray this trust I am allowing you.” He said, gesturing to the young looking, red haired man that had entered the room. “Please take them down to the holding area. Use the usual precautions. The Slayer will be staying the night with him.” Nigel then turned away from them, dismissing their presence without another thought. The small group moved to follow Andrew, silence hanging heavily amongst them.
Spike paced the length of his tiny cell restlessly, smoke curling in the air from the cigarette in his hand. The holding area they had him in left a lot to be desired in the way of comfort, but he supposed that was the point. A cot with a mattress the thickness of a sheet of dry wall, and the softness of a slab of granite sat in the back right corner, a thin cotton blanket thrown across it. A stainless steel commode and sink sat in the opposite corner. A slot was positioned in the middle of the bars of the door, so that a food tray could be passed through. The culinary expertise of the Council chef left a lot to be desired as well, in Spike’s opinion, because, the food they had given him sat on the cot, the only thing touched out of the greasy chicken and boiled potatoes, was the cup of lukewarm blood. He could do without eating for a couple of days, as long as he had the blood,
Luckily, the guard had also given him back his cigarettes, and he had proceeded to burn through half of them already. He’d give anything to find out what had happened with Travers. Not that it had been the first time in Spike’s long life that a Council Head had been given the boot, but usually he had some knowledge of it. And none of the others had felt the need to try him for his past. Lancaster was a cold one, too. Since he had left the day before, nobody else had entered, save the bodyguard with the tray of food. His belt was gone, as were his boots, and his duster pockets had been cleaned out. His Zippo had even been confiscated, and he had to light his fags with the quick burning matches that had been provided.
Spike hadn’t slept since Lancaster had gone, and he was edgy with fatigue. Images of Buffy kept invading his brain, aggravating the feeling. He should have left with her that first night, and just forgotten about Angel. But that would have left her mother and friends at the pillocks mercy, and even if it weren’t for Buffy, he couldn’t have left. And no matter what they tried to say at his ‘trial’, he had done his duty. He had been in the throws of the bloodlust when he had killed the first turned Slayer in 1900. He had taken down several master vampires during that time as well. He should have known that sooner or later he would come across one that wouldn’t be content to hold his transgressions over his head. It was just his luck that it had to be now, just when he had found the love of his life.
He just wished they’d get it over with already. He was tired of waiting. The sooner he was dead. The sooner the pain of leaving Buffy would be gone.
He realized that was selfish, just he realized that she would be alright. Her family and friends, and Angel, would make sure of it. He ignored the stab of jealousy that thought caused, and sighed in relief when the door across from him opened. His relief quickly turned to anger when he saw Angel striding toward him.
“What the bloody hell are you doing here? And you had better not tell me that you have Buffy with you.” He snarled, tossing the cigarette into the toilet.
“Okay, I won’t tell you.” Angel said, his mouth set in a grim line despite the playful sound of his words. “Why would I lie about something you already know to be true?” Spike just glared at him, finally admitting to himself that part of his edginess was because he had felt her near.
“Why?” he growled. His meaning was not lost on the Angel.
“Because she loves you.” He fought off the physical pain saying that induced, and concentrated on the man in front of him. “It wasn’t fair what you tried to do.”
“Dammit, Angel. I don’t want her here.” Spike cried, his voice cracking as emotion threatened to choke him.
“Why?”
“WHY?!” He roared, fisting his hands around the bars, his blue orbs turning yellow. “You of all people should know why. I was a bloody monster back then. I’ll be found guilty, and she’ll be forced to watch me die. And you know, as well as I , what a nasty mess beheading is.” he finished sarcastically. A sardonic smile curled his lip and he started pacing again.
“She has a right to be here, to lend her support. She’s your MATE Spike.” Angel shot back, his own brown eyes shifting to yellow.
“No FUCKING SHIT, PEACHES!” Spike’s voice reverberated off the walls, the misery soaking each word. “Do you think I want her to see this? Do you think I want her to know?” He had sunk to his knees in the middle of the cell, his blonde head hanging. Angel leaned forward and wrapped a hand around the bar, wishing that he could get inside the cage. His unbeating heart clenched at the absolute desolation that suffused his childe.
“It’s not your decision. You can’t keep her from this, and she won’t let you anyway.”
“Stubborn little bitch.” Spike huffed, wiping tears from his cheeks. Angel chuckled at that.
“Yeah, that would be Buffy.” He watched as Spike pulled himself together, removing all traces of the rare outburst from his chiseled features. When he raised his head to the brunette, his hard expression was back.
“So, why are you here?”
“You’re my childe.” Was all he said, and Spike nodded in understanding. No matter what else, Spike had always been his favorite.
“You’ll take care of her.” The blonde asked, dropping his eyes back to the floor. Angel briefly considered telling him about Buffy’s declaration, but decided against it. He knew she would tell him herself.
“If it comes to that.” He said instead. Blue, confused eyes locked with his.
“Don’t see much else in my future.” He said. The door opening cued Angel that it was time to leave.
“I’m not going to let you die.” He said simply, conviction strengthening his quiet words. Spike offered him a sad smile.
“There’s nothing you can do, mate. Unless you can undo what I did, which we both know is impossible.” A look of confusion crossed the brunettes face, as something in Spike’s words jostled a memory. Looking at his childe one more time, he then turned and followed the guard out, trying hard to remember just what Dru had said.
“Watcher.” Spike said, when Giles entered the room. The Watcher approached him, sadness in his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. No good to feel sorry for me. I did it, now it’s time to pay.” Spike said, sounding more flippant than he felt. Giles just pinned him with his eyes, letting him know that he saw right through him.
“I know the things that you have done, Spike. And even though, I have not spent as much time talking to you as I would have liked, I also know the man that you are today. Joyce and Buffy would not have as much faith in you as they do if you were still a monster.” Giles told him, taking off his glasses and wiping them. It was such an ingrained habit, he didn’t even realize when he did it anymore.
“That’s all well and good, Rupert. But that isn’t going to save me now.” Spike countered, leaning a hand against the bars, and smoking with the other.
“Maybe not. But at least you will die with the knowledge that you have the love of a very remarkable woman. As well as the respect of her friends and family. I can’t even begin to think of how many people in this world don’t even have that.” Spike cast his eyes downward, not knowing what to say. He knew that Giles was right, but it didn’t take the pain away. The pain that just seemed to be increasing with each person that walked through the door. He knew that Buffy would be last. Just as he knew that it would kill him to see her.
“Thank you.” Was all he could come up with to say. The Watcher replaced his glasses, and held his hand out towards the vampire. Spike studied it a minute, before shifting from his position against the bars and grasping it. They stared at each other, respect passing between the two Brits. Then, when they released each other, Giles offered him a smile, and turned to leave.
Spike was prepared for the misery that he would see in Buffy’s face. What he wasn’t prepared for, was that same look in the eyes of Joyce Summers. She had entered the room, the light glinting off her blonde hair and the unshed tears in her eyes. She held herself with a quiet dignity that he had only ever seen in a few people before her. He had only seen this woman twice in his life, and already, he could feel her anguish as if he was mated to her and not her daughter.
“Aw, mum.” he said, extending a long fingered hand through the bars. She gave him a smile and walked over to take it.
“How are you?” she asked him, staring him straight in the eye. He quirked his brow at her, and snorted.
“Bout as well as can be expected, for a dead man.” Her reproachful look actually had him ducking his head in shame. *SO much like my mum* he thought.
“You shouldn’t be so negative.” She told him, a hint of motherly command sliding into her words. He actually felt himself smiling at her, and was pleased when she returned it.
“Sorry.” He mumbled. “I just want you to know, that I’m glad I came to Sunnydale. Even with it ending like this, I wouldn’t change meeting the lot of you for anything.”
“I’m glad you did, too. You make my daughter happy, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Joyce said, feeling a tear slip from her eye. She brushed it away with an agitated hand. Spike was struggling to keep his own emotions in check, and was pissed to realized that he was losing.
“Take care of her, and the Watcher.” He told her, swallowing heavily over his words. “And yourself.” She nodded, and cupped his cheek with her hand.
“Don’t give up hope. You never know when a miracle might happen.” She whispered, squeezing his hand one last time before turning away. Spike watched her as she disappeared through the door, silent tears spilling from his eyes.