For Love of a Wolf: Alric's Story
by SpikesKat
Chapter 10
“Is everything alright?” Jocelyn whispered, just loud enough for Joseph to hear when he emerged from the men’s restroom.
“Yes.” He smiled and nodded, for the benefit of those who might be watching, continuing in a voice for her ears alone, “There was a slight problem with Alric, but I’ve been assured that everything is fine.”
And things were too; other than that brief instant of pain felt by him – and the others – nothing else came at him to indicate something had happened to the vampire. Didn’t mean he hadn’t placed a secure call to his sire just to be sure. Especially given that nothing like that had ever happened before. Joseph had wanted reassurance and Spike had given him that.
The matter had been tabled for the time being while they dealt with demon slave traders, but it was something that the clan would have to explore at length, now that they were all together again.
“I’ve had enough of this place. What say we get outta here?”
“I’m ready when you are.” Jocelyn looped her arm through Joseph’s, grateful for once to retreat from the limelight, and she braced herself for a harried exit out of the gallery. “It was a spot of luck that we ran into Buffy’s mom, wasn’t it?” she asked, hoping the inane conversation would put off anyone approaching, and perhaps slowing their exit from the building.
Joseph couldn’t prevent the Cheshire-like grin at the vampiress’ naivety. For all her experience with handling the international affairs of her family’s estate, she had no idea the scope of the clan’s capabilities.
“Jocelyn, do you honestly think you would have been able to drag me to something like this if Joyce wasn’t going to make an appearance? I’m all for doing my part to perpetuate the illusion of you being a jet-setting socialite, but even I draw the line at art shows,” he muttered under his breath.
“You’ve been following her?” Jocelyn asked, brows rising in astonishment. Though she recovered quickly enough, her features evening out to reveal only passing interest.
“And tapping her phone line, tracking her credit card purchases. What did you expect? She’s the Slayer’s mum. Of course we’re gonna look after her.”
“Spike?”
“Uh huh...” Joseph smiled knowingly. “He may come across as the Big Bad… well, ok, he IS the Big Bad, but there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his wife. For any of us, for that matter… you included. And if finagling a meeting with the woman every now and then keeps Buffy happy…”
Now all they had to do was get the watcher on board. With the two stubborn humans paired up – something they’d all thought would come about in the wake of Buffy leaving Sunnydale, especially given Giles’ behavior around Joyce while in the company of the clan – maybe then the Slayer would be content. Not that she regretted her decision to leave her mother and stay with Spike, far from it. It hadn’t even been a decision, more like a fait accompli. Buffy’s place was with the clan. It was just that the thought of her mother being alone would sometimes cast a pall upon her normally upbeat mood.
“Now, come on… Spike and the others will be arriving soon.”
“Renee too?”
Jocelyn’s child-like glee at the thought of seeing her sire again was infectious.
“Uh huh…” He wiggled his eyebrows, adding, “And if you’re a good girl, I’ll take you to her.”
“Baby, I’m always good,” she whispered in her most seductive voice, then curled into Joseph’s side, close enough to rub her breast against the back of his arm.
“Minx!”
The pair skipped out of the gallery and slid into their waiting car, having narrowly evaded the gallery’s manager. At some point along the way, they ditched Jocelyn’s driver, sending him home for the night, and stealthily made their way to the warehouse to meet up with Spike and the others.
~*~*~*~*~
Giles wasn’t sure why he was out walking the streets of London on a Saturday evening. He’d spent the day shopping, restocking cupboards after his extended absence, then wandering around the city refamiliarizing himself with the neighborhood, so it wasn’t like he’d actually spent much time at home. At least not enough to make him feel like the walls were closing in on him and he needed to escape. Or, it shouldn’t have felt that way.
But he’d no sooner poured himself a glass of Scotch and settled in a chair set close to the fireplace to read from one of his books when he’d been assaulted with images of her. Eyes closed, he’d let his head fall back and rest against the back of his chair. His glasses had come off at some point to rest atop the book that no longer held his interest. Ice melted and clinked together in the forgotten glass sitting on the small table next to him as he’d relived those last few days with Joyce.
“…According to whom?”
Doyle’s words had taunted him, so much so, that he’d thrown caution to the wind and called. He’d felt like a pimple-faced schoolboy with his first crush as he waited for the international connection to go through. Only to have the wind knocked out of his sails when the obnoxious recording came over the line that the number had been disconnected.
Cursing himself for being all kinds of fools, for allowing the Council to influence his decision to walk away, he’d slammed the handset back in the cradle. Then pausing only long enough to secure the fireplace, he’d grabbed his coat and stormed out of his flat.
Spying a restaurant in the distance, Giles realized that it had been some time since he’d last eaten. His hunger, and the cold nip in the air, propelled him forward, and he found himself suddenly eager for a hot meal. But then he spied someone in the distance, seemingly lost in thought as she hailed a cab.
Joyce.
Ignoring the people around him, he broke into a slight jog, which turned into a full out run when a taxi pulled up next to the curb in front of her. Stiff British upper lip be damned.
“Joyce!” he shouted, even knowing that he wouldn’t be heard through the crush of people milling about. “Joyce! Wait!”
~*~
Joyce had her hand on the door handle when she thought she heard her name being called. She paused and glanced around, thinking Joseph had come after her. However, the path behind her revealed no signs of the dark-haired vampire. Sighing, she opened the door and was just about to slip inside when she heard her name again.
It was faint yet insistent, and she took another moment to look around before berating herself a fool. The only people that knew she was even in London she’d parted ways with at the Tate Modern. An impatient toot of the horn forced her to open the door, and she apologized to the driver as she set her bags inside and climbed inside.
“The Regent Palace Hotel, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Joyce shut the door and settled back in her seat, waiting for the driver to pull out into traffic.
The sudden pounding on the car window nearly scared her to death.
“Ah!” she gasped, clutching at her chest and turning towards the source of the noise. “Rupert?” she whispered.
The door was flung open and Joyce found herself moving over as Giles made to climb in the back seat with her.
“Hey!” the driver exclaimed. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doin’?”
“It’s alright. I’m acquainted with the lady.”
The driver looked in the rearview mirror at the man that had barged in on his fare – who apparently only had eyes for the woman next to him, and she for him – and the brief flare of indignation gave way to a sudden smirk. Turning away from the reunion in his back seat, he checked his mirrors and pulled out into traffic.
“What are you doing here—?” “Hello, Joyce…” they spoke at the same time.
Joyce blushed and glanced away at his piercing look, feeling much like she were back in high school.
“I’ve missed you,” Giles confessed. “Er… that is…”
“You have?” Her eyes shot back up to his, unable to look away as his voice trailed off and his hands instinctively sought his glasses. She smiled at the unconscious gesture and watched as he delved into his pocket for a handkerchief, realized he didn’t have one, so returned them to his face. “How… how did you find me?”
“Would you believe I was just out for a stroll?”
“After what’s happened these last two weeks, I’m inclined to believe just about anything,” she replied ruefully.
The cab grew quiet until…
“Would you—?” “Would you—?” Again they spoke at the same time.
“You first,” Giles told her.
“I was just going to say… would you like to get a cup of coffee? Or should I say tea?”
“Tea would be lovely.” Giles glanced out the window of the cab, saw where they were, and had the driver pull over upon spying an all-night café.
~*~*~*~*~
Bob should have been used to it. Hell, it wasn’t like he’d never had blood on his hands before – being a good chauffer wasn’t his only qualification. And it wasn’t like he’d never witnessed how the clan maintained the balance between good and evil once he’d been deemed worthy and allowed into their inner circle. For all that they worked on the side of good, the group could be rather bloodthirsty when the situation warranted it.
But this…
Alric had gone beyond bloodthirsty and may have even skipped past maniacal in his dealings with the vamp that had dared threaten him.
It came down to him either leaving the immediate vicinity of where Alric worked, or risk losing what was left of the dinner digesting in his stomach. Alric hadn’t even spared him a glance as he’d beat a hasty retreat, the sounds of the other vampire’s screams of agony ringing in his ears.
Several hours passed in which he alternately paced outside or sat quietly on the hood of the car, wishing that he’d taken up smoking – or even drinking – so that he’d have something to do to steady his nerves. The screams never ceased; if anything, they continued to grow in volume. Constant pleas for death, for mercy, the only thing disturbing the otherwise silent night.
More time passed and it was with some shock that Bob glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly four in the morning. Spike and the others were surely in London by now. He pushed himself away from the car and made to go back inside to retrieve Alric and was halfway there when the vampire stepped outside.
Seeing him, covered in blood and an unholy light shining in his amber-colored eyes… well, it took many silent reminders to himself that Alric wouldn’t hurt him before he swallowed the lump in his throat and asked in a somewhat shaky voice, “All done then?”
A curt nod was his only response.
“I’ve a change of clothes in the trunk…” Bob added, and was relieved to see whatever it was that seemed to have take possession of his boss disappear like it never was. The sharp edge of his expression gave way to one of thanks, and just like that, Alric was back. Smiling his thanks as his demon receded.
“Thanks, Bob.”
Alric stripped out of his clothes and stuffed them into the garbage bag Bob held up and made quick work of pulling on the spare set.
“What time is it?” Alric asked, gazing up at the sky.
“Gone four o’clock.”
The vampire grunted, and Bob thought he heard something that sounded like “not nearly long enough.”
“Spike and the others should be here by now. Are we headed there next?”
“If we don’t, I’ll have the lot of them descend upon my hotel room.”
“And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Bob grinned.
“No, Bob,” Alric growled. “We wouldn’t.”
“Well, get in the car. I’ll put this in the trunk,” he told the vamp, indicating the bag in his hand, “and we can get out of here. Do I need to come back later and clean this up?” he yanked his head in the direction of the warehouse.
“No.”
The vampire’s remains would be a lesson to all that dared touch what belonged to him.
Alric settled himself in the back seat and waited for Bob. The ten-minute ride to Spike and the others was completed in silence.
Bob spent the time reflecting on his boss’ unusually harsh retribution.
Alric spent the time getting his emotions under control before he faced his sire. That and thinking up a plausible excuse as to why he was attacked in his hotel room in the first place – without outright lying to him.
And beneath it all was the burning need to get back to the girl. To drown in her scent, and have her covered in his.
~*~*~*~*~
Even from across the room, Spike could sense the seething rage Alric struggled to contain beneath an outwardly calm appearance. His nostrils flared at the blood he scented, both his childe’s and the demon that had tried to cross him. The others smelled it too, and were waiting for a better story than the terse explanation provided over the phone, although they all continued with what they were doing after greeting Alric.
They had a lot to get accomplished in a short amount of time, it being early Sunday morning. The trade show was only scheduled to run until that evening.
“Is it dead?” Spike asked, once Alric stood in front of him. His hands went to his childe’s shirt, lifting the hem away to see for himself the damage that had been done. He scowled upon spying the stake-sized hole in Alric’s shoulder that had yet to fully close. Felt his temper flare that someone had dared hurt one of his own.
“Of course,” Alric smirked readily enough, his eyes flitting briefly to amber in remembrance of the previous hours spent torturing the other vampire. At complete odds with how he stood docilely while his sire turned him this way and that, finally setting tongue to the jagged edges to get the wound to heal.
When he was done, Spike offered his wrist.
“Tonight’s going to be a busy night. I need you in top form,” he offered by way of explanation.
Alric finished far sooner than Spike would have liked, but he relented when his childe insisted he was fine.
“Alright, then. Come on. I’ll bring you up to speed on what Adam’s managed to find out. This ends tonight.”
Spike’s words were an unspoken signal to the clan, and everyone migrated towards the table set up in a conference room a few doors down the hall.
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