Fortress Around Your Heart - Part One

 

DISCLAIMER: The title belongs to Gordon Sumner; referenced in this fic is Elvis Costello's classic 'Accidents Will Happen'.
NOTES AND SUMMARY: A sequel to *Waiting on a Friend*, set 5 years later in the Wholly AU Giles & Spike (and Wes!)verse. Magpie, Colleen, Annie, Kathy, Lesley and practically the whole Spike's Salvation list provided plotbunnies of one kind or another. :-) Much has changed in the last 5 years with these characters; some things, however, haven't. 'Will' refers to William / Spike and not Willow.

DECEMBER 19, 2007. LONDON. MIDNIGHT.

Buffy Summers hid behind a prop chair and surveyed the dim, unpopulated auditorium for any movement. Although she had to do it, the whole thing seemed wrong somehow. If the universe were in balance, by all rights it would be her drama-prince husband on stage.

Of course, Spike also wouldn’t be able to resist striding to the heart of the boards and declaiming something, probably from Shakespeare, or possibly the Clash. That would be un-crafty and alert the pack of vampires they currently were hunting in the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. It was just as well that he and Giles were elsewhere in the building.

Slayer-Watcher United was all about the crafty. Also, all about restoring balance, usually by killing evil things.

"Buffy!" whispered a voice from the wings. She looked over to see Wes gesturing to her with his extremely large axe. Not that she had axe-envy or anything.

Using the shadows as cover, she ran over to him. "Bulletin me."

"Will and Rupert just headed up to the balcony." She shot a baffled look at what looked like three balconies to her, and Wes smiled. "That’s the official name for the top one; the other two are the dress circle and upper circle."

"Well, don’t tell Spike you were the speaking dictionary, or he’ll quiz me." They grinned at each other. "How many targets were they tracking?"

At that moment three vampires dropped down in front of them, falling from the walkway thingy above them. Wes pulled one aside, then appeared to swing the axe-blade at its neck; when the creature flinched, it found the axe-handle buried in its chest. And, poof.

God, Buffy loved the classics.

With a kick, she sent the other two vamps into each other, and they toppled into a heap o’ demon. "All righty, tell me how many of you there are and just how stupid you have to be to operate in this Slayer’s town."

The nearer vamp cowered, but the further one sprung up, growling. Pretty weak attempt at a growl, but hey, at least it was an effort, which Buffy appreciated. "You can’t make me—"

But her stake found its heart before it could finish its defiance. As the dust settled lightly onto the remaining creature, Buffy said, "Oops! How ‘bout you? Tell us how many of you are here." And she pressed her boot firmly on the last vampire’s chest.

"You’re the Slayer? Nobody told us— they said you were out of London on assignment," the vamp squeaked out. It sent a yellow-eyed glare at Wesley. "So you must be one of Them. Her tame, bootlicking Watchers."

"Why, yes." Wesley hefted his axe over the vamp’s head. "What was the answer to her question, again?"

The vampire squirmed, trying to get away. Buffy pressed down harder. It wriggled free, stuff spilling from its pockets as it crawled toward the footlights.

"Instrument, nurse?" Buffy said, and with a roll of his eyes— now where on earth had he learned that?— Wesley handed over the axe. She inverted it, trapping the vampire with the wooden handle digging in over its heart. "Now let’s hear what’s the what."

The creature closed its eyes, then heaved up and dusted itself. How annoying, Buffy thought. She bent down and started shoving the vampire’s trash into her coat pockets, all bits of paper and cardboard and odd coins.

Wes said, "Perhaps we should examine those first—"

"Bloody hell!" Spike’s voice echoed through the enormous space, and Buffy and Wes looked up, all the way up to the highest level. Buffy lost her breath for a second.

Her husband battled five vamps at once–he was trying to reach Giles, who was cornered against the balcony railing by a sixth, a game-faced giant. Spike managed to snap one neck, staked another demon in passing, then reached through the dust so he could grab the coat of Giles’s captor. The gesture caused the giant vamp to loosen his grip, and Giles fell precariously onto the railing.

The bad thing was that Giles appeared to be unconscious.

"Up!" Buffy snapped, and she and Wes headed toward the stairs. She looked up just as they reached the doorway— then her fingers dug deep into Wesley’s arm.

Spike hurled the huge vamp back and into the other demons, but as he did, Giles tipped over the railing. Spike lunged to grab him, one fist around Giles’s arm and the other clutching a tweed overcoat, but it was too late.

They went over the edge.

***

SUNNYDALE. AFTERNOON.

"Don’t worry, Willow. I was totally over that four years ago," Dawn said.

Willow’s gaze followed Xander, Faith and her brand-new Watcher, Kadir Cumberbatch, as they headed out of the terminal. "You sure? Don’t tell Camille— but I do vaguely remember cute-boy standards, and Kadir scores high in all basic categories."

Dawn rolled her eyes, then tucked her arm through Willow’s. "Woman, is your gay-dar not working?" When Willow’s eyes widened, she laughed. "Of course I personally can testify that he’s experimented with the heterosexual thang, but he was young then. K now has a lifetime contract with the other team."

Willow looked back at the trio, disappearing through the automatic doors. "Does Xander know that?"

"More importantly, does Faith know?" Dawn replied, and the two shared a not wholly kind-spirited giggle. Dawn knew Willow’s theory about the Original Scooby’s luck (or lack thereof) with women. It would be funny to see if her beautiful pal Kadir really might tap into what Willow assured her were Xander’s deepest unspoken desires. On the other hand, for the past year Reformed!Faith had clearly been working toward a do-over, in every sense, with Xander Harris.

However, not even the prospect of tagging along on patrol-slash-the-Dating-Game was tempting enough to make her stay any longer in Sunnydale. She glanced at her watch; her plane would be boarding in another few minutes.

"Dawnie. If it’s not Kadir—" Willow began.

"If what’s not Kadir?"

The red-head smiled at her, and in the flash of warmth Dawn saw the bubbly, goofy girl Willow Rosenberg once had been, before the darkest magicks had scarred her spirit, before her recovery had taught her wisdom and calm. It made Dawn grab her hands and squeeze.

Willow returned the pressure, then said, "Dawn. When we started working on your control over your energies, I saw the most amazing thing. In your aura, you know? Shining into the ether, like a very bright, um, shiny thing? You’re connected to another person by a incredibly strong emotional rope. I just couldn’t see who." She hesitated. "And I was worried. If it was Kadir… if you were leaving him behind, that was going to hurt you."

"Oh, Willow," Dawn said. "It’s not K at all. But, but there is someone."

"Spill! Spill!" Willow said in a once-familiar cheer. Then she retreated. "Only if you want to, I mean."

A chilly amplified voice announced that the shuttle flight to L.A. would be boarding in five minutes.

Willow still looked at her expectantly, and Dawn fidgeted. She didn’t know if she wanted to confess or not– "Want the reason I came to California?"

"The special combo architecture/landscape seminars at UC-Sunnydale, you said."

"Yes. It also was my chance to see you, and Xander, and what used to be home. To see the changes: old Xander squabbling with Faith, K settling in. Having you teach me what you’ve learned about power used the right way." Willow’s eyes grew misty, and Dawn smiled. "But most important, I had to get away to clear my mind. I’d just realized, um, what you said? And Anya always says that you have to know what you’re doing with people, or you screw it up. You might screw it up anyway, she says, but it reduces risk to know first."

"That sounds like Anya." There was still the shadow of dislike in Willow’s voice, but it was insubstantial, easily disappearing in the sunlight striping the terminal.

"Anya is a hell of a lot smarter than you and Xander ever gave her credit for. For instance, she guessed first who my, er, emotional rope-guy is." With a grin, she added, "So can you? Guess, I mean?"

"Well, it’s been so long since you’ve lived here. It’s not— you used to have a crush on Spike," Willow said tentatively.

"Geez, NOT my undead brother-in-law, thank you very much. Besides, hello– sister or not, Buffy would kill my green glowing ass if I so much as looked at Spike in a way other than family."

"Well. Um, if I’m supposed to guess, I know this guy?"

"Yep." Dawn grinned. "Okay, clue. Even if I don’t share my sister’s yen for the vampire love, we Summers women do have a mutual lust for Watcher-boys."

"Dawn, not Giles!"

"Willow, you’re a great witch and all, but frankly? Insane. A) Giles is too old. B) Even if it were, I’d so have been turned into a toad by now. Didn’t I just say that Anya guessed first?"

Willow looked at her blankly. Dawn sighed, then waved at Camille, who was searching for them in the crowd. "Your girlfriend is here, sweetie. And I think you’ll never figure it out."

The amplified voice intoned Dawn’s boarding information, and she picked up her carry-on. Willow grabbed her, giving her a quick hug and a kiss, then warm brown arms encircled them both. "Let the girl leave, querida," Camille said.

Dawn embraced the couple, murmured her goodbyes, and then moved toward the plane. Willow’s plaintive voice followed her: "Dawn! I taught you how to focus, and teleport more precisely, and stuff. You have to tell me!"

"No, I don’t think so. Speaking it out loud before I say it to him— it’s bad mojo. Inviting the wrath of the universe!" Dawn called back. She threw one last wave, then got into the queue for boarding.

Of course she knew exactly who sustained her, who was her other half. Long ago she’d claimed Wesley Wyndham-Pryce for her own, and she’d make sure that coming home meant that the promise of years would be fulfilled.

But there was no harm in taking precautions against accidents. Reduce the risk, Anya always said.

***

LONDON. MIDNIGHT.

He wished he could figure out when it had all gone pear-shaped. The evening had begun normally enough, with Watcher-Slayer United traveling in the Posh Bastard-mobile to the scene of a vampire infection in the West End. Tourists and Home Counties matrons could get chomped, right, and nobody wanted that. On the way he and Rupes had annoyed his Queen and Wes with a spirited rendition of the great EC’s 'Accidents Will Happen'. Maybe that song was the sodding problem— he’d jinxed himself once again.

Spike thought all of this in the split-second between the fall and his mid-air twist. One hand desperately caught onto the railing, with the other one still locked onto Giles’s upper arm.

And he slammed into the carved front of the balcony.

The impact shuddered throughout his body. Luckily, he didn’t have to breathe. Luckily, he was also smart enough not to look down. He took a minute to regroup.

Rupes was just hanging there, not moving. Spike could tell that Dad was alive but unconscious, presumably from the knock on the head given by Big and Ugly Vamp Pillock. Not much help from that quarter. Where the bloody hell—

"Honey. Move Giles this way," came the voice of the love of all his lives. She was below him, leaning over the railing of the upper circle. She tugged on Rupes’ torso and began to swing him toward safety.

Of course the fucking vampires on the balcony would pick that moment to smash a heavy object onto Spike’s wrist. You could probably hear the breaking bones from the Strand, he thought–

Then he roared, "God DAMN it!" It was a fallacy that bellowing relieved one iota of agony, but he did it anyway. Shivering, he hung on through the pain.

"Let him go, Will," Wesley said calmly from below, and Spike released the old bugger’s weight. Once free, his unscathed hand went up to the railing, and he found himself faced with a dilemma. A fall of three stories, or hauling his injured arse alone into a nest of vampires? Hmm, choices.

Then he felt the capable arms of his beloved clamp around his legs. He didn’t quite see how such a tiny woman was able to reach up that far, but he didn’t question. "I’ve got you," she said. With a sigh he dropped both hands.

She yanked him onto the floor of the upper circle, and he collapsed on his knees, cradling his crushed wrist. "Sod a bloody dog, that hurts."

Wesley moved toward Giles’s crumpled, unmoving body. Spike swallowed hard— he never could stand it when his humans reminded him of their fragility. Then he looked up at Buffy, who was passing her fingers comfortingly through his curls. "We’d better get up there. Three regular vamps and one super-sized one left."

"You’re injured, Spike. Wes and I will dust them."

Before he could protest, however, the vamps in question appeared in the two entrances to the circle. He managed a grin. "Borrow a stake, love?"

Sighing, she pushed an extra one into his good hand, then charged Big and Ugly. Wes picked up his axe and headed for one of the little ones. Spike chose his own target, mindful that someone needed to protect Rupert as well.

Ignoring the pain searing his wrist and up his arm, he spun-kicked his prey into the wall. On the first follow-through, he dusted the vamp. When he turned, he could see Buffy punching the Big Game-Faced Git into oblivion, and Wes had his own situation well under control. So where was the other one...

At which point the one unattended vampire grabbed him by the collar. Spike punched reflexively, but the vamp caught his broken wrist and twisted. When Spike flinched, the vamp pushed him forward–

And kicked Spike over the railing.

As he plummeted toward the stalls, he thought hazily, ’Accidents will happen, they’re only hit and run.’

Then he hit, broken wrist first.

***

From a corner in the box nearest the stage, a Nullat demon wearing an Aquascutum trench-coat watched the Vampire-Watcher crash. He noted down the relative ease with which the Slayer and the dark Watcher defeated the last three vampires. He also saw with interest the Slayer leap over the railing and climb down the side of the auditorium to the fallen figure, who stirred at her slightest touch. He further observed the dark-haired one lift the older one, now moaning— not dead, then. At least not yet.

Through the curtain behind him came his brother Nullat, wearing his favourite Burberry. He was wreathed in smoke and ash and a faint scent of blood. The call for reinforcements had been answered, it seemed.

Pulling out his personal digital assistant, the observer in Aquascutum entered his data. Their employer would be intrigued with the findings of the trial: two wounded Watchers versus nine dead vampires. Clearly word-of-mouth had not exaggerated, and this alarmingly competent team of do-gooders might need to be destroyed. He and his brother’s revenant murderers certainly could help with that.

Then their employers could open the Thames Fissure without hindrance, and London would have to deal with its once-hidden demons.

 

next / home