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Chapter 15

Spike watched as Buffy slept peacefully by his side. She'd drifted off not long ago, worn out from their lovemaking, snuggled close to his chest. He still felt a pang inside his chest every time she allowed to hold her, something he never got tired of and doubted he ever would. If he didn't have things to do, he could have cheerful held her throughout the rest of the night.

But he had phone calls to make. He needed to know what kind of progress the watcher and Angel's humans were making. Placing a tender kiss to the Slayer's temple, he slid out of bed and donned his jeans.

His first call was to Giles. He wanted to check up on how the watcher was coming along with the translation. ‘Midnight here, only eleven there. Rupert should still be up.’

The phone was picked up before the second ring had a chance to finish. An annoyed, “’ello!” sounded in his ear.

“Rupert. How go things?”

“Spike! What the bloody hell—?” Then, in a much more dignified voice added, “Do you have any idea as to the lateness of the hour?”

“Vampire, hello? It’s only eleven there. Don’t tell me you’re in bed already, old man?” Spike chuckled softly. It was nice to be able to yank the watcher’s chain a bit. But, the seriousness of the call quickly sobered him.

“No, not at all.” Papers shifted in the background. “I’m just going back over some of my translations. I wasn’t expecting the phone to ring. Was there a particular reason for you ringing me so late?”

“I just remembered something about Buffy’s attacker from—”

“Buffy’s attacker?” Giles interrupted. “Dear God! Is she alright?”

‘Whoops...’ “Uh yeah, Rupes. She’s fine. She didn’t tell ya?”

“I should say not!” Giles blustered. “What happened?”

“We got ambushed by some bloke. He got in a lucky blow to the Slayer’s stomach. We were worried a minute ‘cuz her injuries weren’t healin’ as fast as usual. But, everything’s alright now.”

“Not healin? Spike, what’s going on? Never mind that, I’m coming there. I’ll book a flight out for first thing in the morning.”

Spike could hear the nervous energy on the other end of the line.

“Watcher, she’s fine. If you come here now, she’s gonna know I told ya. Then I’ll have one brassed-off slayer to deal with. I’ll pass, ‘f it’s all the same to you. Besides, I need you there to work on that translation.”

“Yes, I suppose you're right. But, like I told Buffy this morning, I don’t think it applies to your situation.”

“Well, that’s a spot ‘f good news,” Spike replied, relieved. Getting back on track, Spike told Giles why he was calling. He gave a brief described of the guy that had hurt Buffy and mentioned the markings the man had on his face. When asked to describe them, he was at a loss.

“I’m no artist. I’ll call Angel and see if he can whip up something. He was always good with his pencil. Whatever I’m able to get, I’ll pass on to you.”

“Very well. I'll wait to hear from you.... or them.”

Spike hesitated before ringing off, reluctant as to whether or not he should convey his concerns to the man.

“Giles?” he asked, after a long pause.

“Yes?”

“I don’t like this. This guy was too focused on the Slayer. Obsessively so.”

“Well, there's no sense borrowing trouble before it's due. We’ll figure it out, Spike. It’ll just take some time.”

“That’s the problem, watcher. I’m not sure time is with us on this one.”

Shaking away his gloomy thoughts, Spike hung up with Giles and placed his second call. Before, asking his grandsire for anything always left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he really needed Angel’s help and had no problem abasing himself for Buffy's sake. In the past, Angel had really been a pain in his arse, but since he'd emerged from the amulet, grudging acceptance had been evident in the older vampire’s demeanor. It was time to test it. The blood bond was there, now to see if his grandsire would acknowledge it.

“Wolfram & Hart, how may I direct your call?” a female voice enquired.

“Get me Angel.”

Soon Harmony’s voice came over the phone. “Harmony, I need to speak with Angel.” A little elevator hold music, then Angel’s voice sounded over the line.

“This is Angel.”

Spike took a deep, calming breath then said, “Sire, I need your help.”

Angel almost dropped the phone. If he could have gotten any paler, he would have. Spike rarely, if ever, acknowledged their bond. For him to reduce himself to this state, something grave must be occurring. Gripping the phone tightly, he replied, “You have but to ask, Childe.”

Spike closed his eyes for a moment, relieved that no smart remarks were forthcoming from his grandsire. Slowly, he related all the events of the past few days: the battle, the Slayer subsequently getting hurt, her slow healing, their combined yet unspoken fear.

Angel listened without interrupting, but his demon surged to the forefront, anger at this unforeseen enemy hurting Buffy. He tamped it down when he heard Spike’s request.

“Can you draw what I’m describing? Maybe by figuring out what those marks on his face were, we can find out who’s behind this.”

“Hang on while I grab my tablet and a pencil.”

Spike let out a sigh as he heard the phone placed gently on the table. ‘That wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be.’ After a few moments, Angel came back on the line.

“Tell me what you saw,” Angel requested quietly.

Spike complied, and for the next half-hour he described the various symbols he had seen as well as the man’s face.

When Angel was finished drawing, he asked Spike for his fax number, then sent over what he had done. They both waited on the line while the fax machine whirred to life and spat out a piece of paper, then Spike walked over and grabbed it.

Staring back at him was the guy that had hurt his slayer.

“Damn, Angel. It’s him. It’s bloody him!”

“I’ll give it to Wes to see if he can come up with anything.”

“Thanks. I’m going to forward this on to Giles. He said that he translated that text but he didn’t think that it had anything to do with Buffy. He’s gonna keep diggin’, though. Maybe this will help. Angel?” A pause. “Thank you, Sire,” he said simply, once more acknowledging their connection.

“Anytime. I’m here when you need me, Childe.”

Quietly, Angel disconnected their call. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his office chair. Anguish, combined with hope, played across his face. He had thought that when he had given up Conner, he would once more be alone in the world. Sure, he had his friends that came with him to Wolfram & Hart. But, they were mortal. Their time on Earth limited. Once they were gone, his lonely life would stretch out endlessly before him. Spike could, at times – make that most of the times – be a pain in the ass, but he was still family.

And as head of the family, it was his duty to see to the wellbeing of the others in his care. Snagging the paper off his desk, he left his office and went on the search for Wesley.

~*~*~*~*~

Halfway around the world, Spike slowly replaced the phone in its cradle, a slight smile forming on his lips. His Sire. Bond stated, bond claimed. He hadn’t been sure how Angel was going to react. A weight lifted when he realized that Angel had acknowledged their tie as if it was a given. Spike was no longer alone.

He stared down at the picture Angel had faxed over. Blue eyes flashed briefly to yellow as his demon threatened to take hold. It took another moment before he calmed enough to fax the paper to Giles. When it was sent, Spike folded the paper up and tucked it away in his pocket and went to rejoin the Slayer.

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