Chapter Twenty
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” Nigel Lancaster said from his seat behind the judges table. All eyes were on the man in the robe, waiting for him to reveal this ‘mistake.’
“My name is Brother Cornelius, and I am a member of the Order of =====. We were instrumental in the creation of the man that you wish to murder this day.” He began. A gasp echoed through the room at the use of the word murder in regards to Spike. Buffy’s eye drifted briefly to Philip, and saw the smile he had on his face. He glanced over at her, and they met eyes for a brief instant. He nodded once, his entire demeanor letting her know that this man in front of them was a good thing.
“Don’t you think that the word murder is a little harsh, Brother. He is accused of many heinous crimes.” Nigel insisted. The holy man merely pursed his lips at the Council Head, then turned his attention to Spike. Dark brows drew together as he regarded the monk. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he felt rage begin to simmer in his veins.
“You, my child, are not what you think.” Spike managed to suppress a smile at the use of the word ‘child’ directed at him.
“What do you mean?” He asked, staring deep into the aged eyes of the monk.
“Yes, brother Cornelius, I must insist. . .”
“You sir, have no business insisting anything from me.” Cornelius said. The air around him seemed to crackle with a power older than time. Nigel sank back into his seat, his eyes wide at the hint of threat in the old mans tone. “As I was saying, I have information as to this man’s history that should put an end to these proceedings today.” As he spoke, he seemed to straighten, his shoulders squaring as he challenged the Assembly to try to stop him. When no further interruption came, he began to speak, the tale he told shocking everyone in the room.
“As has been documented, in your records as well as ours, we were approached by the Council of Watchers to perform a binding ritual that would fuse the blood of a vampire and a human, thereby creating a separate entity. This entity would be all powerful, with the strengths of both and none of the weaknesses. The only way to destroy him would be by beheading. A medallion was fashioned to eliminate the evidence of a heartbeat and body temperature. At the time, the elders felt that the threat of a turned Slayer was a great one, as we had not had the knowledge of whether or not they retained their souls. So, my forefathers agreed. During the ritual we implanted the memories of his siring in the minds of the one who’s blood we used, Angelus, and his clan. William, was to have all knowledge of any and all memories that were imparted upon him. He would have the memories, but he would know that they were false.” The monk made eye contact with each of the Assembly members, all of whom were the direct descendants of the Watcher’s who put this into motion. Spike’s eyes never left the old mans’ face, his rage turning to a boil as he started to realize just what had happened.
“Brother Cornelius, that is in all the records. You haven’t told us anything that we don’t already know.” Nigel insisted. The Council Head looked nervous, as if he knew that his carefully laid plans of terminating Spike’s existence were going up in smoke.
“That, is the official version, Mr. Lancaster. It would seem, that the Council of Watcher’s had an ulterior motive.” Several of the Assembly members’ shifted in their seats, none liking the obvious allusion to deception. “Now, obviously, I was not present during the original binding, nor the consequent ones after that.” Spike’s gaze shot towards the monk at that. He hadn’t known that others had been performed. “That was almost one hundred and thirty years ago, and I am not yet ninety five. However, I do have first hand knowledge of another spell that was done, some thirty years ago.” Buffy and Joyce found themselves leaning forward in their chairs, hands linked as the first blossoming of hope expanded in the Slayers chest.
“I’m afraid that I don’t know what you mean.” Nigel said, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out in his forehead. Several of the Assembly members cast their eyes downward, not willing to face the blue fire shooting out of the eyes of the man they had accused.
“The original purpose of implanting the memories into William, Angelus, and the rest of their clan, was so William would be able to walk among the vampires without his true identity being compromised. He was to stay with Angelus, so that his place in the vampire community was secure. Every few weeks, a new ritual would be performed to implant the memories of horrible things into the minds of the clan, so that it would appear that William was indeed one of them. About fifty years after the original ceremony, the Council ordered the rituals to cease. The Council Head wanted to use the memories as a way to control him. Once the rituals stopped, William left the clan, and made his way through the world as an assassin for the Council. All the while not knowing that the atrocities that danced in his head weren’t real.” Nigel was turning that lovely shade of red again, anger and indignation running through him the longer the monk spoke. A muscle ticked in Spike’s cheek as the story unfolded, and he glared daggers at the men of the Assembly. How many had known? He wondered.
“But, I am afraid that is not all.” Cornelius continued. Angel joined his childe in pinning the men with flashing yellow eyes, the knowledge that three very powerful vampires were in the room deterring any of them from bolting towards the door. Giles, was taking furious mental notes, his anger at the people he worked for, put on the back burner for the moment. Oblivious to the violent energy floating around him, the monk began to speak again, his voice etched with a shame that ran deep. “Thirty years ago, around the time the turned Slayer was found in New York, my elders were approached again by the Council. More specifically, by Quentin Travers. He wanted two things from us. The first, we did happily. The second was flat out refused. We did the spell that determined whether or not the turned Slayer had retained her soul. But, Travers wanted us to replant the memories that had been given to William. It would seem, that he was starting to realize that they were indeed false, and he was starting to question the things that he was being asked to do. Travers wanted his mindless, questionless killer back.” A stunned silence filled the room. Buffy felt Spike’s rage over their bond, and happily merged it with her own. The bastards would pay if she had anything to do with it. Her eyes caught Philip’s again, and she found herself taken aback by the look of satisfied malice on his face. She looked around the room at some of the other young Watcher’s and found the same looks on their faces. Apparently they were enjoying the airing of their forefathers sins. Buffy had a feeling that things were definitely going to change in the Council of Watchers’.
“The elders refused his request, and considered the subject closed. However, Travers was not a man to take no for an answer.” Cornelius continued. He was leaning heavily on his staff, the weight of the world seemingly on his thin shoulders. “He approached one of the younger monks. And, as much as it saddens me to say this, even men of God are not immune to the lure of money.” Sighing heavily, his old face appearing to get older as he spoke. “Four monks were needed to do the spell, I was one of those monks. And even though, I refused to take any money for my participation, it does not excuse my involvement or alleviate my guilt. We stripped the knowledge from William that he had not done those things, and replanted the memories again, this time with a firmer root. We did this with the knowledge of what Travers wanted, but we also did it with the assumption that William would be allowed to live. When Angelus found me, and told me of your plans to execute him, I felt I had to come forward. That maybe, in some small way, atone for my actions of three decades past.” Nigel’s pallor had lightened from the brilliant red of anger, to the ghostly white of a man caught. He averted his eyes from the accusatory ones of the two vampires and Watcher before him.
“W-well, I think in light of these disclosures, all charges will be dropped. Any objections?” he waited a beat before continuing. “Good, you are free to go.” One scarred eyebrow shot up, and long fingered hands curled into fists.
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Spike snarled. Nigel stumbled back from his chair when he found himself faced with three, fully game faced vampires. His look of terror turned into a smirk when he saw the large semi circle of Watcher’s surround the small group in front of him. Angel, Buffy, and Spike dropped into fighting stances around the monk, her mother and Giles. “We will hurt you if necessary.” Spike told them. It soon became apparent, however, that this group was not focused on them. Instead they were avidly watching the older men in front of them. Philip flashed Buffy and Joyce a smile, this one even closer to the one his great Uncle sported. Spike blinked when he saw the younger version of himself, and looked at Buffy quizzically. She gave him a look that said ‘I’ll tell you later.’ and turned her attention back to the scene beginning to play out if front of them.
“Nigel Lancaster, esteemed members of the Assembly,” Philips voice was dripping with sarcasm as he spoke. “When Quentin Travers was removed from power, we believed that to be a good thing. That the Council would return to it’s original purpose of maintaining balance in the world. However, when the charges were pressed against William Carlisle, a.k.a. Spike, and also my Great Uncle, it became apparent to us, that things were to remain the same. That all the older Council members seem interested in playing God. So, in light of today’s developments, I, as well as my fellow Watchers, are asking each of you to step down. If you do so, without protest, none of you will be brought up on charges. However,” Philip continued, his expression mirroring his uncles’, one that caused shivers’ to run up the spines of each of the Assembly members. “If we are met with any resistance, what so ever. Each of you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of our law. And punished accordingly, as well as losing all respect and support of this institution.”
“You can’t do this.” Nigel said, disbelief written clearly across his face. He turned away from them, hanging his head.
“Oh, I assure you that we can.” Philip told him. Each of the other Assembly members looked away, shame evident in the slumps of their shoulders. They were all older men, with not as much to lose as the younger ones. If they conceded defeat, they could retire quietly and be happy watching their grandchildren grow up. To them, the decision was easy. Not so for Nigel Lancaster. He had been bred for this position. He had worked and slaved to get here. The use of Spike and Travers’ knowledge of the Slayer’s soul had been an inspired way for him to ascend to power. And now, not a week after receiving that power, it was all being taken away again, because of Spike and Travers. Straightening his shoulders, Lancaster turned and faced the group behind him. Travers may not be there to face his wrath, but Spike was. With an animalistic cry, Nigel launched over the table, the knife he’d had hidden in his jacket held high. Giles pulled the monk and Joyce out of the way as Buffy and Angel lunged at the same time, each missing the crazed man as he toppled the surprised Spike to the floor. Everyone scattered to get away from the flashing knife, save Buffy and again Angel. Spike deflected the blows aimed at his heart easily, trying to toss the man off of his stomach. But he was determined to hurt the blonde, and Nigel managed to stay put. Finally, Spike got a punch in to the mans face, sending him flying toward Angel. The brunette, immediately tackled him, and pinned him, slamming his wrist to the floor and sending the knife skittering away. Philip picked it up, and handed it to one of the guards.
“Why don’t you take him downstairs, and make sure he is as comfortable as Spike was.”
“Oh, God. Are you alright?” Buffy asked, dropping to her knees next to Spike who was still sprawled across the floor. He looked at her, a smile curling his lip.
“Never better, Pet. Although, you’d think the git would have paid attention that the only way to kill me is to lop off my head.” Buffy rolled her eyes and pulled him to his feet, just as the still screaming Nigel was being forcibly removed from the room. Angel came up behind them and cuffed Spike on the back of the neck. “Hey, watch it Peaches.” Spike growled.
“Glad to know that you’ll be around to annoy me for the next couple of centuries.” He said, grinning at his childe.
“Yeah, well, don’t go getting all emotional on me.” Spike said, smirking.
“Angel, how did you know?” Buffy asked, slipping her arm through Spike’s in a possessive nature. Angel’s smile was bittersweet as he answered her.
“When Spike told me that the only way to save him was to undo all he’d done, a memory sparked. Something Druscilla said during one of her rambling fits, about how they tried to fool her with their lies, but she knew. I didn’t pay much attention to her at the time, but what she said after that, stuck with me. She said, ‘Spike isn’t what they made him believe.’ It sounded absolutely ridiculous at the time, and I thought that she just meant that he wasn’t a real vampire. But, what Spike said, for some reason, made it make sense.”
“Well, I for one am glad that Dru’s rambling finally went to good use.” Spike told him, releasing Buffy to hold his hand out to his sire. Angel looked at it for a second, before taking it and using it to pull Spike to him. He wrapped an arm around the younger vampire, holding him close.
“No matter what, you are still my childe.” Angel told him, bearing the side of his throat. Spike’s throat closed with emotion, and he felt the bones and muscles of his face shift at the gift of sire’s blood. Sinking his fangs into his neck, Spike drank two long swallows, before releasing him. His face was returned to the smooth human planes when they pulled apart.
“Thank you.” He rasped, sparing a look at Buffy. She watched the two, silent tears sliding down her cheek. “You need to make peace with her.” Spike said, turning back to Angel. The brunette glanced at the woman he loved, then returned his eyes to the blonde’s.
“We will. Some day. Take care of her.”
“Better bloody believe it.” Spike smirked, before turning to sweep Buffy up in his arms. He twirled her around, making her laugh, then set her back on her feet. Angel moved away to join Giles and Joyce, who were talking to Philip and a couple of other Watchers. “Ready to go home, baby?” Spike asked her. Her hazel eyes were luminescent as she looked at him, her air bouncing around her shoulders as she nodded her head.
“Yeah. More than you will ever know. Course, I’m not real happy with the whole traveling in a crate thing.” She told him, a slight pout on her mouth. He leaned down and nipped at it, causing her to giggle.
“Mr. Carlisle?” They pulled apart at the sound of the wizened old voice.
“Spike.” The blonde corrected.
“Spike. I wanted to say, I’m sorry. Nothing will ever take away my actions, and I will have to make my own peace with God, when he feels the need to call me home. But, I hope that someday, you will be able to forgive me.” The monk said, holding a gnarled hand out to him. Spike took it without hesitation.
“You’ve repaid all debts to me today, Brother.” Spike said, looking at Buffy. She smiled at the old man, and stepped forward to brush a kiss across his cheek.
“It does an old heart good, to see so much love.” He said, moving away again. The next person to approach was Philip, and Spike found it a bit unnerving to be face to face with someone who looked so much like him.
“I told you I was hoping for the best.” He said to Buffy.
“Yeah, you did. But, here’s my question. If you were going to mutiny, don’t you think you could have done it BEFORE they kidnaped Spike?” She asked.
“Unfortunately, we didn’t have any proof. It wasn’t until I spoke to Mr. Giles this morning that I had any idea about how far the Council went to control him.”
“You’re one of Lottie’s.” Spike said, studying him. A wide smile split Philips’ features.
“Not directly, of course. But yes, I am. I was hoping that you would stay, and maybe accept a seat on the new Assembly.” Spike’s face twisted up with disgust at the notion.
“Sorry, mate. But, all this,” he waved a hand around the room, “Isn’t my style. I’m more the doing type myself.” he said. Philip nodded in understanding.
“Lottie always said you were a scrapper.” Spike grinned at that, the image of his sisters face flashing through his memory.
“Yeah, well, she wasn’t no quiet little woman herself.” he told him.
“Oh, I know. She ruled us all until the day she died.” Philip chuckled at the image of the old woman sitting in her rocker, cane draped across her knees, as she snuck candy to the little ones when their parents weren’t watching.
“That sounds like Lottie.” The two men lost themselves for a minute in the memory of a woman, one young, one old, but both the same.
“I want you to know, that you will retain your position here.” Philip said. Spike pulled Buffy close, her scent filing his nostrils.
“I won’t travel around no more. I have a life now. I won’t go back to what I was.” He said.
“You live on the Hellmouth?” He waited for Buffy to nod before continuing. “I see no reason why that can’t be your permanent post. Until the day you two decide to leave, that is.” Spike looked at the younger man, an involuntary smile blooming across his mouth.
“Yeah, you’re one of Lottie’s.” Philip returned his smile, and took the proffered hand. Buffy waited for the moment to pass, before catching Philip’s attention.
“You know, speaking of paychecks.”