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Chapter Nine

Limbo

 

 

February 23

Rupert hefted a bag and set it down by the front door. "I'll be back tomorrow, probably late afternoon. Give Mera a call, I'm sure she'd like to talk to you. Invite her over. Her number's in the pad by the phone."

Spike looked a little nonplussed and Rupert studied him. "You haven't done anything social like that for a long time, have you?"

Spike thrust out his chin. "What, you think I don't know how to socialise? Shove it, Watcher. Go visit your lady-friend."

"Just don't drink everything." Rupert put on his coat and picked up his bag. "And clear up after yourself."

"Yeah. See ya." Spike shut the door and walked into the lounge. He went to the window and craned his neck to watch Rupert's car go down the drive and turn out of the gates, then he stood for a while in front of the book-case, looking at the titles with a profound lack of interest. Eventually, with a sigh, he opened the drinks cabinet and took out a beer.

"Ah, sod it!" He turned and dropped onto the sofa, closing his eyes.

He had his second beer in the kitchen, standing in front of the open larder and trying to get enthusiastic over the contents. His third and fourth beer he had while up to his neck in hot water and bubbles in Rupert's elegant bathroom. Then, for the hell of it, he had his fifth beer in the shower while he experimented with shampoo and a bottle of orange-scented bath oil that Olivia had left behind. By six o'clock that evening there were empty cans and bottles in almost every room of Rupert's house and Spike was steaming. He stood gently swaying by the phone, reeking of oranges and holding the number pad at arm's length, trying to focus on it. After several wrong numbers he heard Mera's voice.

"Hello."

"Mrra. Thehhh...ssWllm."

"Spike?"

"Eh! Pphhhh. Psst."

"Well, come over here and I'll sober you up."

"Doh wnnn ssbrr'p"

"Have you lost all your vowels? All right, come over here and stay drunk then."

"Ri." Spike dropped the receiver on the floor and, after a brief skirmish with the door, lurched out of the house into pouring rain. He met a few trees on his way down to Mera's cottage and managed to have a brief but strangely painful encounter with the only lamp-post in the village, to which he apologised. Mera's small garden gate gave him some problems, so he hung on it until the latch gave way and then he wobbled up the path to collide with her door.

Mera had a good view of the road from her staircase window and had watched this entertaining episode with interest. When she heard him hit the door, she opened it and looked at the sodden, scratched vampire swaying in the wind and peering myopically at her with his mouth open. She laughed. "Oh, for Christ's sake." She grabbed him by the collar and pulled. "Get inside."

Spike landed in a heap in her hallway and passed out.

*

While Spike was getting drunk, Rupert was talking to Olivia in her London home. She suggested they to go out to a pub but Rupert wasn't having any of that. He was there to talk and that was what he was going to do.

"I know what you're doing, Olivia. You want to keep us apart. That's all very well, but people in bad situations need someone to talk to - someone they trust."

Olivia looked worried. "Are you in a bad situation?"

"No, you are," he replied bluntly. "I'm merely in a confusing one. A painful one."

"I'm sorry." She took his hand. "It's just I - I don't have long and the more time you spend with me the worse it'll - "

"I know. That's not what's confusing me."

"Is it Mera?"

"It's something Mera said, and I just can't let it go without telling you." Rupert hesitated. "You have to have the choice."

"Choice about what?"

"Oh, god. I've told you about Mera, about what she is. I've told you about Path and how it all began. Spike and his question - I've told you everything about it, uncensored. Now I'm glad I did."

"Why?"

He threw up his hands. "Just come right out with it, Rupert," he told himself. "Path and Mera, what they have, what they are - they've offered it to you and me."

Olivia blinked. Then she frowned and shook her head. "I'm sorry, what?"

"They want us to join their family. I'm not saying I've accepted. I just think you should know the option is there."

Olivia's thin face went blank. "Oh." She looked down at her hands and felt a slow anger building. "I've only just got used to the thought of dying." Rupert watched her closely. "Oh my god." She stood up and looked around. "Oh my god."

"Olivia - "

"No." She held up a shaking hand. "No, just - stay here. I'm going to go upstairs, all right?"

He watched her go to the door. She wobbled a little as she went through and closed it quietly behind her, and Rupert shut his eyes and let his head fall back. Well, he'd told her. This was what he had come here for, to let her know that death wasn't her only option. His body went limp with relief and within a few seconds he was asleep.
 
 

*

February 24. 2 a.m.

"Well? Feeling better?" Mera led Spike into the kitchen.

"No. Oh, shit. What hit me?"

"You did. Coffee?"

"Yeah. What's the time?" Moving like an old man, Spike fumbled his way into a chair.

"Gone two. By the way, you left Rupert's door open and all his lights on."

"Oh, crap."

"I took care of it. Here you go, get it down you." Mera handed Spike a steaming cup. He held it in shaking hands and sipped it carefully. Mera regarded him seriously. "So what brought on the melt-down?"

"Dunno. Too much thinking, I suppose. Limbo ain't a nice place to be in." Spike cringed and put a hand to his head. "God, I think I drank everything."

"Well, as long as you didn't drink what was under the sink you should be all right. What were you thinking about?"

"Everything. Circles. Just went round and round." Spike closed his eyes. "A couple days ago Giles told me about your offer. Well, he didn't tell me - I worked it out. And I got angry."

"Why?"

"Fucking Drusilla - I never had a choice!" Spike shouted and winced again. "I'm gonna go back and go to bed. Got any aspirin?"

*

Olivia stood at the lounge window and looked out at the night. "I think I went through every emotion there is. I still don't know what to think."

"There isn't a time-limit, you know, not on this. No-one's pushing for an answer."

"Just as well. God, is it really past three? I haven't slept at all."

Rupert put his arms around her. "Want to go to bed?"

"I won't sleep." She turned and put her head on his shoulder. "I hated you for a while, you know."

"I expect so."

"It's because of you I believe there's something beyond death. I'd given in." She shook her head. "You get into one mind-set, all acceptance and calm, then you get turned upside-down. It was
violent."

Rupert said nothing and Olivia looked up at him. "What do you think about it?" she asked.

"I've tried not to," he said with a harsh laugh. "And you know what happens when you try that, don't you?"

"Yes. Don't think about a pink elephant."

"Clear your mind and think of nothing."

Olivia laughed. "You end up thinking about clearing your mind." She left his arms and sat down. "So. What have you thought?"

"Oh god." Rupert sat on the floor next to her. "Everything. You, Michael, my age. Spike. Time. You name it."

"Poor Rupert. I think it's easier for me. Die soon or not at all. Simple yes or no."

"I hate the thought of growing physically useless."

"Yes."

"I've changed a lot in the last five or six years. Before I became Buffy's official Watcher I would have rejected Mera instantly."

"That's probably why she didn't approach you before."

"Oh, definitely."

Olivia leaned forward. "If she was a proper vampire would you have told me?"

"If she was a proper vampire we wouldn't have a choice and I'd already be turned. But no, I wouldn't have told you."

"So you trust her?"

"Yes."

"With this?"

"Oh, god. Yes, with this. Real trust doesn't have limits. You either trust someone or you don't. You have to chance it."

"Does Spike know?"

"Yes. Him and his bloody empathy - I didn't have to say a word." Rupert shook his head. "He's sharp, that one. As Mera said - 'pesky'."

"Rupert," Olivia said seriously. "Now that you've told me will you promise me something?" He nodded. "Will you not mention this again? Not tonight, not tomorrow. Not until I do?"

"Yes."

"And I want you not to call me, or see me. I want to be left completely alone with this. I'll contact you when I have an answer."

Rupert reached up and squeezed her hand. "I promise."

*

The huge marble clock on the mantlepiece in Mera's lounge ticked loudly, whittling away at the afternoon. Mera sat unmoving with her eyes closed and her hands folded neatly in her lap as she conferred once again with Path on what she called The Spike Problem. They were into their third hour now and Mera's brow was furrowed.

The clock ticked.

Suddenly Mera shifted and spoke aloud. "Oh, good god! Of course!"

Tick.

"I do not know the recipe, you will have to tell me."

Tick.

"If it does not work, he will be gone forever."

Tick.

"Oh, do not worry. You need to see this boy, Path. Believe me, I will make sure it goes everywhere"

Tick.

"I am nothing of the kind!"

Laughing, Mera broke the connection.

*

Moving carefully, Spike emerged from his bedroom and headed for the shower. His foot caught a beer can and sent it rolling down the passage, leaving a long dribble of liquid behind it.

"Oh, sod!"

He looked at a crumpled towel on the floor outside Rupert's bedroom and ran back into his room to look at the clock.

"Bugger!"

Forgetting his shower, Spike embarked on an energetic clean-up operation that made his head thump and took him to every room in Rupert's house. He flung open each window he came to and the temperature plummeted. He was on his knees in the kitchen scrubbing at a congealed puddle of spilled beer and dog-ends when the phone rang.

"Shit!" he yelled into the receiver. "What?"

"Yes, and a good afternoon to you too, Spike. How's your head?"

"Sorry Mera. Listen, I'm in the middle of cleaning up. If Giles comes back now he'll stake me."

"Yes, I saw the mess last night. It was impressive. You do like to do things properly, don't you?"

"Mera - "

"All right. Path and I talked this morning and we think we've thrashed out a way to do what you
want."

Spike's stomach turned over. "Er. Yeah?"

"Yes. When's Rupert due back?"

"Any time."

"Well, tell him you two are to come over here tonight and we'll talk about it."

"Okay, I'll tell him. See you." Shaking slightly, Spike put the receiver down. He rubbed his face hard and went back into the kitchen.

*

"Tell me why it's below 16 degrees in here and smells of oranges."

"Oh, I, er - yeah, I just gave it a blow-through." Spike serruptitiously touched a spot on his t-shirt where a large splash of bath oil had hit it. "You know. I had a fag last night."

"You only had one? You astonish me." Rupert dropped his bag and coat on a chair and went into the kitchen. He looked around and frowned. "Oranges in here, too."

Spike followed him. "Yeah. Look, Mera says she wants us to come over tonight. Says her and Path think they know what to do about me."

"I don't suppose that would involve a stake? Sorry." Rupert shook his head as his guest sighed. "I've had a tense twenty-four hours and I need a nap. Give her a ring, would you, and tell her we'll be there about six?"

Spike nodded and left the kitchen. Rupert made himself some tea and wished he could uncover the window and let the sun in. He turned up the heating thermostat and sat down, closing his eyes.

Spike returned and put some letters on the table. "These came this morning." He dropped into a chair and drummed his fingers on the table top.

Rupert glanced at him. "What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, charming. You're not the only one who's had a tense day, you know. I don't know what's going to happen to me."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry if I were you."

"If you were me? How the hell would you know what I'd think if you were - if I was - you're not me. So you don't know."

"Look, it's going to work. Whatever Mera does, it'll work."

"Oh, right Mr. Clairvoyant. That makes me feel so much better. How the sod would you know?"

Rupert smiled slightly. "I just know. Stop being so - negative."

 

Chapter Ten

Decisions

 

 

“There are no end of spells for getting rid of ghosts and ghoulies,” said Mera that evening. “Some of ‘em actually work, too. But as far as we know, there’s only one reliable spell for the ridding of a vampire’s demon.”

“Yeah? Let’s do it, then.” Spike was feeling reckless.

“Stamp on the brakes, mister,” Mera said sharply. “It’d be the same as if I’d staked you. What we have to do is kill your demon and make sure you don’t go splat in the process. Tricky.” She smiled. “We have to keep that cute body of yours intact. But I think we have that covered.”

“You think?” Spike looked wary.

“We can’t be sure of anything, dear,” said Mera. “This has never been done before. You’re a lab rat.”

“Oh, great.”

“Remember what I said, Spike,” said Rupert.

Mera came alert. “What was that?”

“Oh, the Watcher thinks he’s clairvoyant,” said Spike. “Keeps telling me it’s going to work.”

“Really?” Mera shot a curious look at Rupert. “Well, there’s no harm in positive thinking.”

“So how are you going to keep him intact?” asked Rupert.

“Hopefully with something Path remembered this morning. There’s an ancient mixture of herbs and minerals that’s quite normal on its own, but when you say the right spells it becomes something completely different. It’s called the Balm, it preserves the body and you won’t have heard of it. The sequence we propose is this - I use the Balm on you, then I do the spell for getting rid of your demon, then I turn you. Simple. Nothing to it.”

Spike looked at her hopefully. “Yeah?”

“No love, I’m being facetious. There’s nothing simple about this. Listen, the story behind the Balm is quite bloody but all you need to know right now is that it might - I repeat might keep your body from going poof so that I can turn you. And once you’re turned the ‘spirit’ that’s keeping me going should do the same for you.”

“I heard several ‘shoulds’ and ‘mights’ just then,” said Rupert.

“Well, the Balm has only ever been used on humans so I don’t know if it’ll work for Spike. The only good thing is it’s easy to make - most of the herbs haven’t changed over the years and you’ll find them in just about any bloody kitchen in the world. There was only one item I needed a modern equivalent for, and that was easy - the damn thing’s growing in the garden. Agh.” She screwed up her face. “It’s so easy to put together it makes me shudder to think how any moron could stumble onto it. I have a batch brewing right now, very hubbly bubbly. Can you smell it?”

“Something smells sweet, yes,” said Rupert. “Ah, preserve the body? That sounds very Ancient
Egyptian.”

“You’re not far wrong - ”

“What?” yelped Spike. “I’m not being a sodding mummy!”

“Let me finish,” said Mera. “The true nature of the Balm has been forgotten for millennia and it took Path some time to remember about it - she’s looking through her writings right now to find the spells. But don’t worry, the Egyptian mummification practices were shadows of the real thing. This mixture will either save you or fail completely, but it won’t turn you into a mummy.”

“Jesus.” Spike laughed weakly. “Had a picture just then of me walking around like Karloff. Nasty. So when can we use this Balm?”

“It should be ready in a few hours, after it’s cooled down.” Mera smiled. “Don’t want to raise blisters on that alabaster skin of yours do we, gorgeous?”

Spike gave her a sick smile.

“Spike - go away and think about it,” said Mera. “Think hard. There’s a high chance you won’t survive. Come back tomorrow if you like, or next week. No rush - I can stick the Balm in the freezer.”

She looked at Rupert. “Would you stay behind for a moment?”

With his mind buzzing, Spike said goodbye and left.

Mera turned to Rupert. “Why are you so sure it’s going to work when you didn’t know until now what we were going to do? When even I didn’t know until this morning what we were going to do?”

“Ah,” said Rupert. “Well, I-I had a daydream when I came back from the U.S. About a-a garden. A sunny garden. It was very realistic.”

“You mean you had a vision.”

“Well - ”

“How realistic was it?”

He hesitated. “I-I saw the same garden a few weeks later.”

“Let me guess - the one you now own?” She looked at him thoughfully. “And you’re judging everything on the strength of this - vision-garden?”

“What else can I use as a measure?” Rupert felt embarrassed. “It’s all I have to go on.”

“Quite.” Mera pursed her lips. “Now, being very good at putting two and two together, I assume Spike was in your vision, yes? So tell me, Rupert - was Olivia there too?”

“Leave it there, Mera,” said Rupert.

“All right. Just don’t go into overdrive my friend. Visions can’t be entirely trusted.”

“I know.”

*

At two o’clock the following morning Rupert was staring bleary-eyed at his computer screen and thinking about going to bed when Spike put his head around the door of the study.

“Can I use your ’phone, Giles? I want to call Buffy, if that’s okay.”

Rupert looked up from his ever-lengthening report. “Oh, yes certainly. But I have e-mail, you know.”

“Yeah, but I want to talk to her.”

“All right.”

Spike felt inexplicably nervous as he dialed Buffy’s number. In Sunnydale the phone rang for a long time and he felt a stab of disappointment. Then he heard a click.

“Hello?”

He felt his shoulders tense up. “Hi, Buffy.”

“Spike?”

“Yeah. Um - how are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks. Wow, I didn’t expect you to call - Dawn! It’s Spike! - so what’s going on?”

“Did Giles tell you about my question?”

“Yeah, he did. Is she gonna do it?”

“She thinks there’s a way, yeah.”

“Really? Again, wow. Well, good luck on that. I mean it”

“Thanks.”

“Uh, will it be dangerous?”

“Nah. Piece of cake.”

“Good. Look, here’s Dawn. Let us know what happens, okay? And - and don’t rush into it.”

“Yeah. ‘Bye, Buffy.”

He heard a muffled conversation at the other end, then: “Hi Spike!”

“Hi mega-bite.”

“How’s you?”

“I’m fine, love. Anything happening?” He dropped his voice to a growl. “How’s your boyfriend?”

“I’ve got another one now. His name’s Mark.”

Spike blinked. “Not wasting any time, are you?”

She laughed. “I have to get them in before you come back, don’t I? Mr. Prison-guard.”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” Spike felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Rupert standing there.

“No, you weren’t that bad. Not really.”

“Good to hear it - listen, Giles wants a word so I’ll hand you over. Take care.”

“’Kay. Bye Spike.”

Spike gave Rupert the receiver and went into the kitchen. He stood for a moment in the dark and listened to Rupert talking, then quietly opened the back door and went out into the night.

*

“I had a feeling you were on your way.” Mera led Spike into her lounge and sat him down. She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Speak.”

Spike hesitated. “This plan you’ve got for me,” he said at last. “Map it out again.”

Mera spoke slowly. “One: I do the Balm on you to stop you from turning to dust when your demon dies. Two: I do the spell for getting rid of said demon. Three: I turn you.”

Spike drew a deep breath. “When you turn me I - no evil demon, yeah? I want to hear you say it.”

“If it works, you will be able to walk in the sun.”

“Yeah, but what I’m interested in is - you have no evil demon?”

“Ah, I see. That’s right. No evil, no demon. Note this gold cross on my chest.”

“You don’t drink blood.”

“There’s a fridge in the kitchen. Have a look inside and see all the calorie-full yummy goodies. You know all this.”

“I haven’t heard it from you. Sunlight?”

“Appreciate at my golden tan.”

“Show me your fangs.”

“Pardon?”

“Your face. I want to see it.”

Mera let her face change and Spike stood up and spent some moments studying her.

“It’s different to ours,” he said.

“Yes, it’s very slightly softer. Rupert didn’t pick that up. Well done.”

“Your eyes aren’t so yellow.”

“You’re right.”

“They’re more of a - bronze. Gold bronze.”

“Yup. That they are. They’re the only things I like about it.”

He ran his hands over her face and touched her fangs. “They’re not so sharp.”

“No, our bite is blunt. Good thing we don’t need to use it. I don’t have to bite you, you know. I plan to use a knife.”

Spike sat back down and watched her human face return. “But you don’t know if it’ll work.”

“No. No vamp has ever wanted it before. The reasons are obvious.”

Spike was silent for a while. Then he looked away and said something he’d never before admitted. “Before I was turned I was a wimp.”

Mera waved a hand impatiently. “Wimp is a word used by the ungentle young to describe the gentle young.”

“Er - ”

“All right. Not quite like that, but you know what I mean. Intellect, gentleness, a quiet demeanour - all serious crimes when growing up. In the adult world these traits are valued by those who are thoughtful. Don’t use that word to describe yourself." She sat beside him. “I know what you were, it’s still there inside you although it’s been tempered through the years. I will say this, though - in rebelling against the people who hurt you, you nearly turned yourself into one of them, do you know that? Arrogant, snarky, cocksure, acid. I say nearly. You kept your capacity for love and warmth, even under the demon. That’s more than any of them would have achieved. Be proud of yourself - of who you were before, and who you are nnow.” Suddenly she smiled and prodded his shoulder. “Aha! I understand! No, no - don’t be afraid that without your demon you’ll turn into a big twit. You’ve been out from under its influence for some time now. Are you a twit?”

“Not bloody likely.”

“Well, there you go then. Now tell me, what brought you here so quickly?”

“I spoke to Buffy.”

“Ah. So you would risk death for her?”

“Already have.”

“Yes, but there’s no escape from this one, sonny. No small chance of rescue to hope for. It goes wrong, you’re dead.”

Spike stood up again. “Yeah, well. It’s my demon. I want it gone.”

Mera didn’t hesitate. “Come this way, then.”

Spike followed her down a dark passage and entered a small undecorated room. High on the wall one tiny window showed a faint patch of stars. There were two large brown jars and a sheet of plastic on the concrete floor.

Spike turned to her. “You knew I’d go for it, didn’t you? You’ve got it ready.”

“I had a hunch.” Mera drew a rough chalk circle on the floor. “Now listen. This first part with the Balm is going to take hours and I’m going to keep on asking this question until I start the final spell.”
She looked into his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Mera nodded and pointed to the plastic sheet. “Then strip and stand on that.”

Spike’s mouth fell open and Mera sighed. “Oh, please,” she said in exasperation. “I’m five thousand years old. You’ve no idea how many naked male bodies I’ve seen.” She smiled. “Mind you, I’ve never got tired of seeing ‘em.”

His mouth still open, Spike slowly took off his coat.

“Besides,” continued Mera. “I need you raw so that I can take this - ” she took the lid off one of the jars, scooped out a handful of warm Balm and turned to him with a very wide grin. “And rub it all over you.”

Spike clenched his teeth together, fighting a sudden strong urge to bite her.

Mera drew herself up and pointed an imperious finger at him. “Now make my century and get your kit off.”

*

6.30.

Cursing himself for going having had so little sleep, Rupert ate his breakfast and wondered about Spike. The vampire had disappeared so abruptly after his conversation with Buffy that Rupert had felt compelled to listen at Spike’s bedroom door before he went to bed, but he’d heard nothing. Now, drinking his coffee, he considered going up and asking his guest if he was going to have breakfast this morning.

Rupert put his cup down with a jolt. “Good grief,” he said aloud. “I’m going soft.”

He cleared the kitchen and went upstairs to get dressed. There was still no sound from Spike’s
room.

Right, leave it then. Time to get to work anyway.

*

Spike stood naked on the plastic sheet and shivered in disgust. Covered now from hair to toes in sweet-smelling blue gunge, he looked thoughtfully at the ceiling and spoke in a far-away voice. “That had to be the longest, most humiliating thing I’ve ever allowed anyone to do to me.”

Grinning, Mera wiped her hands on a cloth. “Oh, don’t be such a nancy. I had to make sure, didn’t I? This is what’ll keep your body intact.” Her grin grew wider. “Be disastrous if we missed a spot, wouldn’t it?”

Spike glared at her. “Lady, you are a pervert.”

“No. I just like getting my hands on fine art - and you, my lad, are some of the finest I’ve ever seen. Michaelangelo would have burst into tears of joy.” She laughed and pointed. “Especially over that bit.”

“Oh, what? Sod off!”

“Now, now.” Mera laughed again and threw the cloth out of the room.

Suddenly, like a mask dropping, her face grew coldly serious and Spike swallowed, unnerved at the abrupt change.

“The Balm’s done, for good or ill,” said Mera. “Now we kill your demon.” She pointed to the chalk circle. “Sit there.”

Spike felt cold. He stepped slowly into the circle and sat down, eyeing her warily. “Is this going to be bad?”

“I imagine so. Well, love. We’ve arrived at your last chance. Once this starts there’s no stopping it.”

Spike looked into her eyes. “I’m not living like this any more. Do it.”

Mera picked up his clothes and the two empty jars and put them in the passage. “Don’t want you smashing things and cutting yourself.” She looked up at the little window and saw pale sky. “Sun’s coming up.”

Spike raised his eyes to the window and fixed them there as Mera began to walk slowly around the edge of the circle, moving her lips soundlessly. Quickly the room grew stuffy and dark as if a cloth had been put over the window, and she took a torch from a pocket and switched it on. As she walked she kept the beam of light trained on Spike, who had begun to tremble violently, his hands clenching.

Mera’s silent pacing continued until abruptly she spoke aloud, giving voice to a harsh, unrecognisable language. Spike jerked his head back, his eyes opening wide. Like a puppet on strings, his body flung itself forward as if something inside wanted to get out of the circle, but without breaking stride Mera shot out an arm and pushed him back hard. As he landed on his back his face changed and he glared at her with yellow eyes, his mouth yawning wide, displaying his fangs as he gave out with a rising growl. Mera’s relentless voice filled the tiny room, and again the demon hurled it’s host at the circular barrier, seeking a weakness, yowling like a dog in pain. Mera’s words became a song and her voice grew louder. Spike’s face changed again and blue human eyes stared at Mera in panic, streaming tears.

“Oh my god!” he yelled as his body convulsed.

Mera ended the song on a shout, and Spike screamed.

*

“Spike’s not at my house,” said Rupert to Mera that afternoon. “He must have left last night. Is he here?”

“Yes. He came over about two this morning and told me he wanted to do it. His mind was made up.”

Rupert was startled. “He never said anything to me!”

“He probably knew you’d tell him to think a bit longer. So he pre-empted you.”

“Are you going to do it?”

“Already have. We did the Balm - which took forever and was a lot of fun - and now, well, he’s going through hell.”

“What!” Rupert was suddenly angry. “You’re doing it? You should have told me!”

“Why? It’s his decision, not yours.”

“We should have discussed it further!”

“Oh?” Mera’s eyes were sly. “And there was me thinking you were certain it was going to work.”

Rupert opened his mouth and stopped. “Well yes,” he said eventually. “But as you said, visions aren’t - ”

“You’re not having it both ways,” she said firmly. “I won’t let you.”

Rupert gave up. “All right. Where is he?”

Mera took him down the passage and showed him the door of the room. Rupert reached for the latch but she knocked his hand aside.

“Wait.” She put her ear to the door for a moment and carefully opened it.

A murky darkness seemed to crawl out of the opening. Mera looked cautiously into the room and stepped inside, motioning Rupert to follow. She pointed.

Seeming to glimmer in the strange darkness, Spike lay in a corner of the tiny room as if something had flung him there. With his face to the wall and an arm caught awkwardly under his body, he resembled a discarded doll. The chalk circle was smudged and the plastic sheet was in shreds.

Rupert stepped closer and gasped. “He’s blue!”

“No.” Mera’s voice was hushed. “That’s the Balm. I imagine under all that he’s actually grey. Come back to the door.”

“Shouldn’t he be in the circle?”

“Doesn’t matter. Spell’s done. Come back to the door.”

Spike’s head twitched and Mera jumped forward and grabbed Rupert’s arm. “Out,” she ordered.

She had barely closed the door behind them when they heard a faint thump and the latch rattled.

“He can’t get out, there’s a caging spell holding him.” She jerked her thumb at the door. “Listen.”

Rupert put his ear against the wood and his face went slack. “God!” He stepped back quickly. “What on earth’s that?”

“That,” said Mera. “Is his demon expressing its displeasure at my attempt to murder it. The room’s spell-soundproofed so it won’t disturb the neighbours. The door’s the only place the noise can come through.”

Rupert stared at the door. “You mean his demon’s in control? How long is he going to be like that?”

“No idea.”

“You don’t know?”

“You know I’ve never done this before!” snapped Mera suddenly, her voice becoming a growl on the last word.

Rupert glanced at her and saw a different set of features fading from her face. A shock of fright went through him and he backed up against the door. Instantly, there was a dull thud from the other side and he jerked away from it, his skin crawling. “Bloody hell!”

“Sorry.” Mera ran trembling fingers over her forehead. “I’m sorry, Rupert. I didn’t mean for that to happen. It’s just that we have here the only vamp who’s ever wanted to be free of his demon - do you have any idea what a prize that is? And we could lose him - I’ve known that from the start, but I couldn’t refuse him. I just couldn’t, and now it’s done. It’s making me a little tense.”

“A little?” Rupert laughed weakly.

“All right, I admit - it takes a lot to make the fangs come through. I’m really nervous.” Mera walked back down the passage. “I need a drink. You coming?”

 

Chapter Eleven

The Council

 

 

Rupert drank his first whiskey fast and held out his glass for a refill. "Tell me about the Balm," he said. "What is it exactly?"

"As far as Spike's concerned," said Mera. "Think of it as a kind of glue to stop him falling apart. You won't be far wrong. But as to what it really is - well, it's very old for a start. Some bright spark developed it way back, long before my time. I got the story from Path - she watched it happen "

"Where? In Britain?"

"No, it was somewhere near Egypt. The location doesn't matter, though. The Balm was developed, used, abused, suppressed."

"Why suppressed?"

"Oh my. It was dynamite. It was used first for preserving the dead - which it does very well, by the way - then someone wondered what would happen if it was used on the living. They tried it and found the results quite amazing. In a nutshell, it makes you invulnerable. It preserves the body completely. Nothing can happen to it. Disease just stops. You can't be cut, you don't age, you can't be poisoned. It's as if it armour plates you, or puts you in stasis. Temporarily, that is."

"So you're hoping this Balm will put Spike's body in, ah - stasis?"

"That's the plan. Oh god." She rubbed her eyes. "I don't need this tension."

Rupert wasn't going to let her get back into that. "You said it's temporary?"

"This is the one good thing about it. The process has to be repeated every few years or the effects wear off and your body becomes vulnerable again." She sighed. "As for its use and abuse, use your imagination. The rulers took it for themselves - which, by the way, is exactly what would happen today if it ever got out. Take the old sum of limitless power plus towering arrogance and multiply it by the belief that you truly are invulnerable and what do you get? A bloody awful regime, that's what you get. It was all very violent in the end."

"So there was a fight and the Balm disappeared?"

"More or less. It was much more complicated than I've made it sound. I know Path had something to do with its disappearance, mainly because she's quite cagey about this part of the story. Until yesterday she was the only one in the world who knew the recipe."

Rupert frowned. "What makes you so sure no-one else knows about it?"

"I think we'd know by now, don't you?"

Rupert sipped his drink thoughtfully. "You said the effects wear off. Are you going to have to repeat the process with Spike?"

Mera looked tragic. "Unfortunately no," she said with exaggerated wistfulness. "He won't need the Balm once I've turned him. I'm doing a lot of hoping, by the way."

"But why does he have to be turned at all? Surely the Balm on it's own would give him what he wants. He could go in the sun and it wouldn't kill him."

"Oh, I'm sorry Rupert," Mera said sarcastically. "I had no idea you'd gone deaf last night. Didn't you pay attention? Immunity to sunlight is not his main objective. He wants his demon gone - I wouldn't do anything like this for him otherwise. As for why he needs to be turned, well, when the demon goes away it'll take with it all the things it's given him. He won't be a vampire any more, not inside, and psychically he'll be very vulnerable. I couldn't let him go wandering around like that, he wouldn't last a week. I have to give him what I have."

"I see. Isn't the Balm rubbing off with all that jumping about he's doing?

"Doesn't matter. If the catalyst spells have done their work I could hose him down and it wouldn't make any difference. Oooh." She gave a delighted smile. "Now there's a picture that'll keep me going for a few years."

Rupert tutted and shook his head. "When this is over, what will he be?"

"Himself, hopefully."

"But with no evil inside him."

"That's right, although like me he'll still be able to display the dental cutlery if he wants to. He just won't want to, that's all. As I see it, he'll have a vampire's body without the demonic perks."

"He'll have your perks instead."

"Yes. The only thing that'll have changed is the internal agent that keeps him alive. He'll still be soulless, for whatever that's worth. As he is now is how he'll stay. And his darling, narky, extra-cool personality - he'll still have that."

"Which is a good thing, I suppose."

Mera laughed. "I think so."

"Is there any point in asking what the Balm's made of?" asked Rupert with a smile.

"No. There ain't." She smiled back at him

"Don't you trust me?"

"I trust you to write it all down neatly in a little book, Rupert," she said bluntly. "And I trust someone, sometime in the future, to get their hands on that book." She shook her head. "The human race has enough nasty little toys to play with as it is - and gosh, they do like to play with them don't they? The last thing they need is an easy way to make themselves invulnerable. Anyway, Path'd kill me." She looked at the clock. "Time for food. Hungry?"

"Thank you, but I really should be getting back to my report. Will you be all right with, er - "

"Oh yes. I'll look in on him before I go to bed."

"I'd better stay for that, then. If he attacks - "

"He's already had a try at me," said Mera casually. "Just after I finished the spell. I took him by the neck and held him off the floor until he ran out of steam. You were the one in danger earlier. I shouldn't have let you go in there." She grimaced. "We live an' learn, don't we?"

"Oh." Rupert felt his machismo wilt a little. "Right. I'll come back tomorrow, if that's all right?"

"More than all right. I want to talk to you about the Council."

*

Rupert had a restless night and got up very early, planning to immerse himself in work for a few hours. He switched on his computer and checked his e-mail, got out his diaries and notebooks and poised his fingers over the keyboard. Then he let his hands drop. Spike's ordeal and Mera's words just before he'd left last night made concentration impossible, and on top of that he hadn't heard anything at all from Olivia. His fingers twitched with the need to call her.

"Sod it." Abruptly, he stabbed the power button on the computer. "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry, Microsoft," he said acidly. "I didn't shut it down properly. How very disobedient of me."

He slammed out of the study, grabbed his coat and left the house in a loud rush.

*

"I've had a bloody awful night," said Mera as she made coffee. "Why are you here so early? It's not seven yet."

"Couldn't concentrate on work," replied Rupert. "Thanks to you."

"Poor you." She set a cup down hard in front of him and dropped heavily into a chair.

Rupert studied her. With red-rimmed eyes, unbrushed hair and a faded dressing-gown wrapped crookedly around her, she looked like any other exhausted woman he was likely to meet at this hour.

"Seen enough?" she asked with venom.

"Looks like you've had a worse night than me," he said. "Sorry for the bad mood."

In the silence that followed, Mera switched on the radio and trawled impatiently through the channels. "Not in the mood to listen to sodding politicians this morning," she said. "Music's what I want. Ah, there."

Rupert winced as a repetitive electronic beat filled Mera's kitchen, making him instantly edgy. "This isn't music, Mera. It's noise."

"Better this noise than the sort MPs make."

"I'll give you that one. How's Spike getting on?"

"I was about to look in on him when you turned up. Better do it now, I suppose, and get it over with." She stood up slowly.

Rupert saw that her hands were trembling. "Are you all right?"

"I'm hating this, Rupert," she said. "With my entire heart and soul. I'll be back in a minute."

"I'll come with you." Off her look, Rupert said: "I was just shocked yesterday. I'll be all right."

*

The vampire was standing against the wall on shaky legs. His eyes were a little wild, but Rupert could see that it was Spike in there at the moment.

Spike looked at them standing just beyond the threshold and shook his head. "Don't come in," he said to Rupert.

"I won't." Deliberately, Rupert took a step back.

Spike raised his hands and watched them tremble. "It took over."

"I know," said Mera.

"It's going to do it again. I can feel it."

"Yes. Until it's dead."

"When will it be dead?"

"I don't know, love," she said gently.

"It attacked me, look." Spike pointed to bloody scratches on the front of his torso. "It didn't do much, though." He looked at Mera. "I'm almost wishing we'd never started this. I had no idea it would be so fucking bad." His voice cracked a little on the last word.

"Neither did I," said Mera sadly.

"Do you want anything?" asked Rupert. "Some blood - "

"No!" said Spike, alarmed. "No, don't feed it." He slid down the wall to the floor. "Tired," he mumbled.

His head fell forward and he was quiet for several minutes. Rupert and Mera waited. When the vampire looked up again, Spike was no longer there. As he launched himself at them, Mera pushed the door closed and ran a hand over her face.

"Oh, shit," she said. "Shit. Shit! I wasn't prepared for that. I had no idea he'd get the upper hand again." She closed her eyes. "I really wish that hadn't happened. If he keeps coming back like that it's going to be worse for him than I thought."

To Rupert's surprise he saw tears running down her face. He put a hand on her arm. "Maybe we should strap him to a bed or something. He's hurting himself."

Mera got herself under control. "The demon'd break any restraints I used. I'll cut his nails next time he's quiet."

"What about a spell?"

"Good god, no. There's enough magic going on in there already. Don't want to upset the old apple-cart, do we?"

To Rupert's relief, Mera sounded more like her old self again. They went back to the kitchen.

"Would it kill him?" Rupert asked, thinking of Spike's scratches. "If it knows it's going to die anyway?"

Mera looked pained. "I suppose there's a chance it could, but only by accident, not design. Vindictiveness requires a measure of intelligence and the vamp demon's nothing but an animal, really. An instinct." Mera flopped bonelessly into a chair. "Anyway, dying is something that happens to other people as far as vamps are concerned. They don't believe it applies to them, so even if it could think, it'd probably spend all its time believing it's going to win this one."

"Could it win?"

"Not a chance. Once the spell's done there's no stopping it. It's like a poison. All the demon can do is fight until it can't fight any more. Then it dies." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "It just takes a long time, that's all."

Rupert decided it was time for a subject change. "All right," he said firmly. "You said you were going to talk about the Council. So talk, woman."

"Oooh, authority!" Mera brightened up. "I like a bit of - well, never mind. I'll get dressed first."

*

"There's a statue in the Council grounds," said Rupert. "Do you know of it?"

"Yes." Mera smiled. "What do you think it is?"

"I think it's a statue of a demon."

"And you are absolutely correct. The last Demon left on earth, to be exact."

Rupert thumped the table. "I knew it! Wait a minute - that Demon? Who put it there?"

"The Council, of course."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the Council built the statue," said Mera pedantically.

"Why?"

"To remind them of their duty." She turned another chair around and put her feet on it. "It's like this: way back in the depths of time, the Council decided it would be a good idea to build a big reminder of what the fight was all about. So they built the statue. Its proportions were true, by the way. It was enormous. Whenever the Council moved they destroyed the old statue and built a new one where they settled next."

"Good heavens." Rupert was amazed. "True proportions? How did they know what it looked like?"

"Oh, come on. Our Demon was wandering around alone for a long time before he made his mistake. Many people must have seen him. There's cave drawings all over the place, and you know how accurate the cave-dwellers were in their art. What they saw, they drew. None of this poncing around we get nowadays."

Rupert's eyes gleamed. "You must tell me where those caves are."

"I will."

"Do you know how old the statue is? I know there's been a building on that spot since Roman times - one of the cellars still has a full mosaic floor, but - "

"That statue must be, oh - well over nine thousand years old."

"What?" Rupert's mouth fell open. "Nine thousand years!"

"Path remembers it being built. Why are you so surprised? You know how old the Council is."

"Yes, but I didn't think they'd been in the same place for so long!"

"The Council's been in that spot since the ice retreated."

"Nine thousand. I have never heard of any statue that old." Rupert shook himself. "So this must be why there's so many ancient remains on Council grounds. I know the properties in Scotland and Ireland have some truly - "

"Yes, indeed. Archaeological wonders that the Council themselves created. If the high-ups at the British Museum ever find out about it they'll have a collective orgasm."

Rupert shook his head. "It's sad."

"Yes?"

"You know more about all of this than the Council does: how it began, the statue - "

"Oh. Well, I'm constant. Watchers come and go. Things are forgotten." She frowned. "Forgotten deliberately, sometimes."

"They could do with being reminded of all this."

Mera looked at him thoughtfully. "And soon they will be."

"What do you mean?"

"I made myself known to Quentin Travers a few months ago."

"Good god!" Rupert decided that this was going to be another of those days that were full of surprises. He'd been having a lot of them lately.

Mera laughed. "He was very surprised, particularly when I put on the fangs for him. I told him he didn't know squat - I like that word - squat about Vampires. Then I dumped a bottle of holy water over my head."

"But wasn't that dangerous? Telling Quentin, I mean."

"Possibly, but I'd seen the shape of his mind and took a chance. He - this may surprise you, but deep inside where he lives he's not as hidebound as you'd think. I remember he was shocked. He went quite white, much like you did. He stared at me for a long time with his mouth open, and then he laughed. He surprised himself, I think."

Rupert frowned, thinking that Quentin had taken it better than he had. "But why did you do it at all?"

"Path and I want to come into the light." Mera smiled. "Do you know what it's like, being part of this whole battle and not being able to help? Unlike vampires we don't like to simply drift. We like to know we have a purpose."

Mera suddenly swayed in her seat and gasped. She had been hit without warning by a powerful surge of anger and she stared at Rupert with astonished eyes. He was glaring at her, his face grim.

"Oh my god," she said, breathing hard. "Whatever's the matter?"

"I've just had a thought." Rupert's voice was clipped. "You said you always knew what was happening around the Slayer. You wanted a purpose?" He pointed at her. "You two could have helped us with Glory."

Shaken, Mera slumped in her chair. "Oh, I see. God, you had me going there for a moment!"

"You could have - "

"We're not gods, Rupert." She looked earnestly at him. "Please, my dear, listen to me. Glory had all kinds of tricks going on to keep herself hidden. We had no idea she was even here on this planet. We didn't feel a thing when she ended up in Sunnydale. When she knew she up against the Slayer she must have given thought to me and Path. You think she didn't know about us? She was a god! A stupid god, but still!" She rubbed her eyes hard. "The first we knew about it was when we felt Buffy die."

Rupert sat frozen, his anger suddenly bereft of a target. He'd had no idea that the emotions he'd felt the day his Slayer had died were still so close to the surface. He relaxed slowly and Mera waited, saying nothing.

"Sorry," said Rupert eventually.

"Understandable. Think nothing of it."

Mera got up and pottered at the sink, giving them both time to calm down. When she sat down again she decided to continue as if nothing had happened. "A long time ago the Council knew all about Path and I."

Relieved, Rupert went along with her decision. "They knew?"

"Oh yes. They consulted us frequently." Mera made an ugly face. "Then they forgot. I watched them change from being people who knew what it was all about, into the blinkered, tradition-bound, separatist idiots they've been for the last eleven or twelve hundred years or so. God, I hate to think how many Slayers they've killed with their outdated ways. Funnily enough, this turn-around in attitude co-incided with the arrival of Christianity in Britain and I've always wondered if that had anything to do with it. I don't mean Christianity itself, but the fanaticism that some people brought with them. You know fanaticism. It's like an unstable virus, infects people in different ways. Some of the Council members started in on the old familiar "We are the be-all and end-all of everything. Humans and only humans are Good. Anyone not human is Baaad, even if they look human." Mind you, some of 'em were like that anyway, but this was worse."

She shook her head, her eyes unfocused as she remembered. "It was so insidious the way it started. When I became aware of it I thought it was a spell. I actually thought it was a spell! It never entered my head that they'd do this all on their own. I was staggered when I found no magic at work."

"They - the ones who subscribed to this tunnel-vision - they began to shun Path and I and, true to type, their voices got very loud and their numbers grew, just like a virus. What's that modern term? Zero Tolerance, that's it. They pushed out the helpful demons - became actively agressive towards them. Bloody fools gave no thought to the fact that they were cutting themselves off from their only allies. It was very upsetting."

"Eventually Path and I found ourselves shut out, treated as lepers. Path was devastated. That was when she took off and found her little hidey-hole. Been there ever since. Now, me being much more bloody-minded, I stayed here and it's a good thing I did because later, in the fourteen hundreds, they burnt - " she raised a finger. "And I'll say that again just in case you didn't hear it - they actually burnt a lot of writings that didn't fit their way of thinking. Anything about the connection between Slayers and vamps. Path and I, good heavens, anything about us had to be destroyed. It was mad. So much was lost it hurts to think of it. Ancient, ancient manuscripts, oh god! Knowing they had a statue of a demon on their grounds - a demon, can you imagine? - they destroyed any writings about it. They hacked at it but couldn't destroy it." She smiled grimly. "I'd already put a very strong protection spell on it. So they left it where it was, forbade anyone to talk about it, and it took some time but eventually its origins were forgotten, too.

"Once this infection had hold of the Council bosses there wasn't any way I could approach them. It would have been suicide, their minds were so closed off. It'll do them a lot of good to be reminded of what they've forgotten." Mera looked at Rupert with bright eyes. "I've kept at a distance since I first spoke to Travers, but now you're here and pleasingly open-minded about it all, well - I think the time has come. Path agrees with me on this one: I spoke to her last night about it."

"They won't like it," said Rupert with conviction. "They won't even believe it."

"To hear that their precious Slayers are sisters to vampires? No, most of them won't like it. It'll offend them mightily, but that's hard luck. The fight's more important than their ideals. The world has changed again, thank god, and just like last time those changes are having an influence. New times, freer ways of thinking. Hence Quentin Travers. Michael Greco. You. And others, you'd be surprised at the number. I wouldn't even consider it otherwise."

Rupert remembered Quentin's words about Spike. "There's quite a few that aren't so, ah, advanced."

"They don't matter. They're not at the top. That's what counts."

"I see. So you'll tell Quentin and - ?"

"I'm not going to tell him. I'm going to let him find out on his own. You see, during the burning they didn't get their hands on everything they wanted to get rid of. The Council was split and those few who didn't like this new - ha! - new regime took what they could and came to me and told me where they'd hidden it. There are manuscripts, parchments, all sorts buried for safekeeping in many places in these islands and the whole story is in these hidden pieces. I myself stole a lot right at the start of the madness and hid it, then when I had the chance I took it to the U.S. It's there now, buried. I'm going to tell Travers where to start and it's going to keep them busy for a long time. I imagine long before they've found half of what's hidden in England, Travers is going to be coming to me demanding clarification. I shall, of course, tell him to go away and find out on his own."

Rupert looked up suddenly. "Those pieces in the U.S."

"Yes?"

"Where are they? Are they near California?"

*

"Hello Buffy."

"Oh my god!" said the bright voice from Sunnydale. "Hi Giles! What's the what? And then some! Spill it."

Rupert laughed. "I'm just calling to let you know I'm coming over in the next few days."

"What? Oh, that's great! Any special reason?"

"No. Well, yes, but I'll tell you when I get there."

"Is it about Mera?" Buffy asked quickly.

"N - well, in a way, I suppose." Rupert had a sudden premonition that he wouldn't be putting the phone down until she'd got it out of him.

"Path?" There was a strange note in Buffy's voice.

"Y-yes, it's about Path. Look, it's a long story - "

"Tell me now."

"I should really come over - "

"Giles." Buffy's voice was suddenly flat. "Tell me."

She's worked it out. Sod it! I should have been with her!

He opened his mouth but couldn't speak.

"Oh god," Buffy moaned. "Oh god."

"You know, don't you?"

"I'm not stupid, Giles. I read that report of yours. And I remember the liturgy: 'For as long as there have been vampires, there have been Slayers'. Oh, god. And I've heard nothing about how Slayers came to be."

"Buffy - "

"Spike knows, doesn't he? The second he read your report, he shut up. But he looked really hard at me just before he left." She took a shaky breath. "Yeah, I worked it out. Anya was saying how she remembers something about 'The Three'. I thought, Three? What's that about? And Path looks like the First Slayer. Wild hair, patterns on her face. She's from exactly the same time. I was really hoping I was wrong. Why didn't you tell me?" She sounded betrayed. "Why did I have to work it out on my own?"

"Remember how impossible it was for you to tell Dawn what she is?"

Buffy said nothing.

"You know what I've been feeling," said Rupert. "You've felt it yourself." He frowned, hearing her breathing hard. "Are you all right, Buffy? Perhaps you should call Willow - "

"How long has this been kept from us?" she demanded.

"A long time. Mera says - "

"Mera!" she snapped.

"This isn't Mera's fault, Buffy," said Rupert gently.

"I know. I know! But she's kinda the bringer of bad news, isn't she? Seems like every time she opens her mouth things get turned upside down."

Rupert felt as if he swimming against the tide. "It may not be as bad as you think. Listen, you don't know the full story. It's - when you learn about the Slayer's Source I think you'll find it's not that bad."

"Am I some kind of vampire?" It was sixteen-year-old Buffy at the other end of the line, the Buffy who had nightmares about becoming one of the things she killed every night. Who knew what her nightmares were now?

Rupert spoke as hard and fast as he could. "No, of course not! You'd know if you were! You couldn't be more different. The Source is not evil, understand?" There was silence. "Do you understand, Buffy? Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"I'll come over and tell you everything."

"No! I'll go mad waiting. Tell me now."

Rupert closed his eyes, knowing she'd win this one. "All right. I just feel I should be there." He thought about his conversation with Mera. "First, I'll give you what Mera told me today about the Council. There are hidden manuscripts - "

Gripping the receiver hard, Buffy listened.

 

Chapter Twelve

Phoenix

 

 

"Well?" asked Mera the next day. "Are you going?"

"No," said Rupert. "She made me tell her immediately. She'd already worked it out."

"She a quick one, that girl. Is she going for the manuscripts?"

"Yes. I told her she might not be able to read them so she'll get Willow to do a translation spell."

"Good."

"No. Not good. I should be there."

"She's old enough to make her own decisions. Time to let the child go, Rupert. If she wanted it this way - "

"Yes." Rupert closed his eyes. "I told her about Olivia, too."

"One big come clean, eh? Well, good. Secrets are terrible heavy things." Mera smiled. "Did she ask about Spike?"

"Yes, but I didn't tell her how bad it was. Didn't want to worry her about that on top of everything else - "

"Worry her? So you've accepted that part of it now?"

"Yes," Rupert said dryly. "I'm all acceptance over everything. Tell me you're really a man and I'll accept that too. Not really much point in bucking against something you have no control over, is there?"

Except the dying of the light.

He stood up. "And now I'm going to 'come clean' about you to Michael - and Quentin, if he's there."

"Have fun."

*

Michael chuckled. "I had a feeling she'd get in contact with you. When did you meet her?"

"Christmas. I learned the truth about her later. Is Quentin around?"

"No, he's in Singapore. Pity, he'd have been interested." Michael grinned. "So how did you take it?"

"Like a fool, Mike. I walked out." Rupert recalled that day with a scowl. "But I redeemed myself by going back the next day."

"Well, you kept this quiet, I must say."

"So did you," shot back Rupert. "Anyway, I've had a lot to think about."

"Why are you mentioning it now?"

Rupert jumped straight in. "Mera's offered to make me one of them."

Michael's face went blank. "What did you say?"

"You heard me, I think."

"Good god!" Michael struggled to his feet and began to pace. "What did you say to her?"

"I haven't said anything yet."

"Which means," said Michael pointedly. "That you haven't said no."

Rupert sat back in his chair. "Should I say no, Mike? Do you believe that's the right answer?"

"Does my opinion matter?"

"Not in this instance, no. Whatever else those two are, they're not evil. I'm just curious."

"Well, if you're asking me - "

"I'm asking: if she offered it to you would you accept?"

Michael was very sure. "No."

"Why? Because you believe it's wrong?"

"Because," said Michael precisely. "I want to see what's next."

"There might be nothing next."

"Do you believe that?"

Rupert laughed."No. Demons and vampires, werewolves and ghosts and gods, of course there's something next. I was just making sure of you, that's all."

"Oh, I'm sure. Don't you worry about me, I'm quite looking forward to it." Michael winced as he sat down again."It's the bit that comes before that's unpleasant. Pass me that syringe thing, would you? That packet on the table there."

"You're on injections?"

"Yes, and I insist on doing it myself."

Rupert watched as Michael gave himself the drug and slowly relaxed as it took effect.

"Oh, blessed, blessed numbness," said Michael eventually. "So. Mera's offer. What do you think about it?"

"Think? I've done nothing but bloody think. She offered it to Olivia, too."

Michael's eyebrows shot up. "Oh. My goodness."

"Olivia is also dying of cancer."

Michael found nothing to say. He watched his friend tap his fingers rhythmically on the arm of his chair.

"Mera," said Rupert at last. "She's lasted five thousand years with her sanity. She's one of the most ordinary, down-to-earth people I've ever met, personality-wise. Do you think - if you don't have the spark to begin with, you'll never go insane?"

"Possibly." Michael pointed at him. "You're seriously considering it, aren't you?"

Rupert decided to be honest. "Yes. At first I didn't want to think about it. But now?" He looked at his friend. "You're tired of the fight. I'm not. I don't want to feel useless."

"Then you must make your decision before you get any older."

"Yes. You haven't answered my question, by the way."

"Which was?"

"Do you think it's wrong?"

Michael shrugged. "As you say, there's no evil involved."

"You're hedging."

"I'm sorry, Rupert. That's all I can give you."

Rupert stared at him. "But you didn't answer with a resounding Yes."

"No." Michael raised his eyebrows. "I didn't, did I?"

*

For the next week Rupert spent every day working furiously on what he had entitled 'The Bloody Report." The pile of discarded paper on the floor grew high as he edited and revised and edited some more. It kept him mercifully busy.

He visited Mera frequently, keeping up to date on Spike. The demon's tantrums had been growing less frequent over the last few days and the creeping darkness inside the little room had become lighter. The demon was losing, but Spike was very weak.

As the demon slowly died, Mera became more and more agitated. "This is the hardest thing I've ever been through," she said. "And I was caught in the Fire of London. The second one."

The time was drawing near when they would know for sure if the Balm had worked and Rupert found himself waiting for contact - from Mera, from Buffy, Olivia. Even from Quentin. The only communication he had with the Sunnydale gang was from Willow, who had taken it upon herself to give him daily updates on Buffy.

Her first e-mail gave Rupert no peace. The gang had retrieved Mera's hidden manuscripts and was studying them avidly. The fascination count was high in Sunnydale.

Buffy's reaction, however, was a different matter. She had become 'frighteningly frightening', as Willow put it. She hunted vampires with an unpleasant intensity, scouring not just the cemetaries but also the Bronze, the sewers, back streets - anywhere a vampire might hide out. She was dusting them almost in plain view of Sunnydale's citizens and not returning home until after midnight. Dawn was worried. They all were.

Rupert put his head on folded arms. "Should be there," he muttered.

Within a few days, to his immense relief, Willow's messages became happier. Buffy appeared to have swung completely the other way. She was quiet and pensive, and the gang were able to bring the manuscripts back out from where they'd hidden them because the Slayer was no longer inclined to 'Burn them to ashes and dust and jump up and down on all the little bits until there's nothing left!'

Rupert's jaw dropped. This was one message that Mera was not going to hear about.

At last, a week after he had visited Michael, his telephone rang. It was Buffy, feeling better. Rupert could have cried.

"You were right. When I learned about the Slayer's Source, it did get better."

"I thought it would."

*

"Well, that's a look I haven't seen on you for a while," said Mera.

Rupert was smiling. "I had a call from Buffy. She's feeling better."

"Oh, some good news for a change! Well, I think we should crack a bottle of something dangerous in celebration." Mera rummaged in a cabinet. "Oh, I know! How about this?" She held up a small dark bottle and gave him an evil grin.

Rupert eyed the bottle dubiously. "What's that?"

"A very - um - particular Russian brandy." She carefully filled two into tiny glasses with a dark liquid. "Which means - " she took a sip, breathed hard and coughed. "It'll take your head off if you're not careful."

Rupert looked nervously at his glass. "Is it hissing?"

"Probably."

Rupert sipped it gingerly and his eyes watered. "Christ." His voice cracked. "How's Spike?" He put the glass down carefully as if he thought it would explode.

Mera's jovial mood evaporated. "Not a peep since last night. He was still moving around, but not very enthusiastically." She knocked back her drink and spent a few painful seconds recovering. "When I looked in after lunch today he was just lying there."

"Is it - could his demon be gone?"

"No, I tested him. It's weak but it's still there. Tenacious little bastard." She stood up and with an air of self-destructive intent filled her glass again. She raised it to her lips and stopped, standing very still and staring through the lounge door into the hallway.

"What?" asked Rupert.

"Listen."

He concentrated. "Can't hear a thing."

"Come on." Mera left the lounge.

A jumble of blankets lay in the passage outside the door of what had become Spike's Room. Mera had sat there all night, every night, listening to the faint sounds of the demon raging and dreading the thought of Spike's personality gaining control once more. But since that first time he hadn't made another appearance.

They stood beside the door and listened. Finally, Mera stirred. "No. Hell and damnation! I couldn't have imagined it!" She reached for the handle.

At that moment they both heard it: three weak, evenly-spaced knocks against the door. Mera whirled and pointed at Rupert. "Wait!" she said, and ran back up the passage. When she returned she was holding a knife. Rupert blinked at it, but she was already opening the door.

There was no darkness in the little room. Spike lay on the cold concrete floor just on the other side of the threshold. He opened his eyes slowly and tried to look at them but his head weaved on his neck and he let it fall back.

Mera knelt beside him. "Spike, love? You there?"

His lips moved and she put her ear close to his mouth. After a moment she straightened up and raised a hand, saying something unintelligible. There was a brilliant flash that made Rupert blink rapidly and when he could see again, the room was suffused with a rosy glow. Like something reaching out, a thin golden tentacle of light emerged from the glow and touched Spike, following the planes of his face and probing into his hair. Squirming like a live thing, it ran back and forth over his body, leaving brilliant glittering trails on his abused skin. Enthralled, Rupert watched.

The tentacle vanished, taking the glow with it. The trails on Spike's body faded quickly.

Mera jumped to her feet. "It worked!" She pulled a stupefied Rupert into a hug and lifted him off the floor. "It bloody worked! The demon's gone and the Balm worked! Whooo!"

Rupert extracted himself from her crushing grip. "Er - "

"That light would have turned violet the moment it touched him if the demon was still there! It's gone and he's not dust! Oh god, I'm good!"

Rupert gave her a bland smile. "I thought you were all worried about what was going to happen."

Mera looked at him. "We will never," she said firmly. "Ever mention that again. Now, where's that knife?"

"In your hand," said Rupert. "What's it for?"

Mera knelt again and took Spike's left hand, turning it over to expose the wrist. "You don't think I'm going to bite him, do you?"

"Well yes, actually, I did."

Mera made a small cut on Spike's wrist. "No. We don't need to do all that revolting drinking." She jabbed the knife point into the end of her finger.

"I thought you said Path drained you of - "

"Path didn't drink." Mera squeezed a drop of blood from her finger and let it fall into the cut on Spike's wrist. She sat back. "I don't know that vampires have to drink in order to turn someone, but I do know that, for them and us, the candidate needs to be weak - or actually dying in the case of vampires. Now, Path - I was the first person she'd ever turned. She only knew the way of the vampire, so she thought my blood had to be drained, but she didn't want to drink it. Yuk. So she cut my wrist and just let it run out. It wasn't necessary of course, because I was already weak enough." She studied Spike's face. "Now with your vamp, the candidate has to drink, so even though she hadn't drunk mine, she thought I had to drink hers." Mera gagged theatrically. "It was the most disgusting, uneccessary thing I've ever voluntarily done. Agh. She cut her wrist and - again, agh. Afterwards we just looked at each other, waiting for something to happen. There was blood everywhere - mine in a big bowl, and hers all over the place." Spike stirred slightly and she ran a finger down his cheek. "We waited. And waited. Path began to cry. I began to cry. Then I was thoroughly sick, oh god, and I thought I was going to die after all. Finally, very sad, Path picked up my hand and touched my cut wrist with her finger - which happened to be covered in her own blood - and I felt a shock, not unpleasant. God, I'll never forget her eyes. They went so big! We both knew what had happened." Mera laughed. "She spent years apologising for making me drink her blood."

Rupert suddenly realised what he'd seen her do and he pointed at Spike. "You've already done it, haven't you?" he asked in amazement. "You've turned him. Just now."

"Well, yes. Don't have to drain him, he's already weak. And dead. He couldn't be readier. Don't know if it'll take, of course." She shrugged. "Had to do it fast. He was prime vacant property. Anything could have moved in."

Rupert shook his head. "No, I mean - that was it? You cut him, jabbed your finger, let a drop go into his cut, and voila?"

"Well, yes." Mera looked puzzled. "Didn't you hear what I was saying?"

"But it was only a drop!"

"Yes. The smallest drop contains all of me."

Rupert stared at Spike. Was the vampire suddenly no longer a vampire? "What if you had to turn a healthy human?" he asked eventually.

"Healthy?" Mera sucked her bleeding finger. "I'd have to make them weak, of course. Quickest way would be to drain them of some blood." She spoke casually but was very aware of what she was saying to him. "I'd use some local anaesthetic, cut the wrist, let it run for a while and then put a drop of my own in there. Simple and virtually painless."

"And no dying."

"No dying."

Rupert was still staring at Spike. "How will you know if it's worked? If he's turned?"

Spike stirred and opened his eyes again. He looked at Mera and she heard him say faintly, "Am I dead?"

Mera's eyes lit up and with a big, wide smile on her face she slid her arms under his body and hugged him. "No, love. You're one of us."

"Mera?" Rupert asked again. "How will you know?"

"I already know." She looked up at Rupert. "He just spoke to me."

Rupert frowned. "Did he? I didn't hear - oh!"

Mera smiled. "It's worked."

*

After his silent converstion with Mera, Spike passed out. The other two picked up his limp body and carried him upstairs.

"In here." Mera backed into her bathroom.

"Here?" Rupert was suddenly reminded of the time Spike had stayed with him. "What for?" Under Mera's direction he helped put Spike into the bath.

"I'm going to wash all that crap off him." She picked through the bottles on the side of the bath.

"Oh." He turned away. "Well. I'll just wait out - "

Mera grabbed his collar with one hand and pushed a flannel at him with the other. "You'll take the top half is what you'll do," she said firmly. "And I'll - " she narrowed her eyes and smiled. "I'll take the rest."

He laughed. "Has anyone ever told you - "

"Frequently. Now scrub." Humming, Mera set to work.

Rupert looked at the flannel in his hand and thanked whatever gods there were that Spike was unconscious.

*

They put him into Mera's bed; as Mera said, she hadn't slept in there for at least a week so one more night wouldn't make any difference.

"He looks a lot better." Rupert brushed at splashes on his trousers.

Mera studied the tousled head on her pillow. "Yes, he does wash up nicely doesn't he?" She stretched and arched her back. "Okay. I am way overdue for some relaxation. What say I make a meal and we get drunk?"

"Meal first, I think."

*

"I must say, Mera, you're a splendid cook."

"Yes well, if you ain't a good cook after several millennia, what use are you?"

*

Gone, gone, gone, all gone. Freezing fire, gone. Empty, empty, empty - all the fire, screaming, spitting, raging, glorious, deep, deep down where it used to be warm before - no choice, no choice - before she came, madmadmad fire, and turned it all cold and it was so eeeasy, give it up, give in, give it all over and live for ever and killkillkill and not your fault nevernever any more.
'Cos you were hidden. And now you're not.
It wasn't my fucking choice. It wasn't my fucking fault. Not my fault. Not me. William? Pah. Couldn't kill a fly. Mr. Glorious Cold Fire - he could, but not William. No.
There will be no pathetic I'm-so-upset-at-my-actions asshole showing his face around here. Because they were not my actions.
It was not me. I know that.
But. Now. It's. All. Gone.
What's in here now? Can I blame it? What am I?
What, what, what can I. Who can I. How can I.
What can I blame now?

*

"Looks like it isn't over yet," said Mera.

Rupert watched the restless, shivering body in the bed. "If I didn't know better I'd say that was drug withdrawal. Or - he's not rejecting you, is he? Your turning him, I mean."

Mera shook her head. "First thing I checked. No, I think you were closer when you said withdrawal. His emotions are completely muddled, nearly impossible to read, but one thing that is getting through is fear."

"What's he got to be afraid of now?"

"Life without his demon?" suggested Mera. "Think about it. For over a century that thing controlled him. He, William, took no responsibility for what he did. To have all that ferocity inside you for so long - imagine what it's like to have it suddenly vanish. I think the word we're looking for here is 'bereft'."

"But why now? The demon hasn't been controlling him for months. He's been behaving like a human."

"Yes. But it was still in there all the time, don't you see? He must have been able to feel it there. It was probably like a continuous growl going on in the back of his mind. He just buried it deep when he was given the chance. God, what an achievement!" She looked at Rupert. "Curse the Initiative all you want, but without them none of this would have happened."

"So you're saying you think he's missing his demon?"

"Yes. There's no getting away from the fact that he's literally on his own now. There's no convenient enemy inside him to whom he can just hand over control and responsibility. From now on, just like me, William takes the blame." She looked surprised. "Gosh, that was deep wasn't it? Forgot myself for a moment there."

"You could be right, though." Rupert watched Spike turn his head, his legs churning. "Can't we do anything about that? Hold him still?"

"We could, but I don't want to restrain him. I think he'll be all right. If he can get through the killing of his demon, he can get through this. I hope." She looked around. "I'll sleep in here, I think."

A sudden thought struck Rupert. "I have to go," he said. "I've made a decision. I'm going to tell Michael - and Quentin if he's back - what's happened. Tell them Spike's no longer a legitimate target." He looked a little grim. "Tell them if any Council member tries anything with him they'll find themselves answering for it to me and Buffy. After what you and he have gone through we don't want some idealistic idiot ruining it all."

Mera grinned. "And if that doesn't move them, tell 'em Path and I protect him now - and if they force Path to bestir herself on his behalf, she'll emerge like the tide of time and come like a pyroclastic flow." She looked pleased with her imagery. "I'm just full of it today, aren't I?"

"Pyroclastic flow," mused Rupert. "Yes, that should do it."

 

Chapter Thirteen

To Be or Not

 

 

For several days Mera watched Spike thoughtfully as he turned and turned in her bed.

"Are you sure there's someone in there?" asked Rupert.

"What do you mean?"

"What if - what if you're wrong, and the demon is the personality after all? What if that - " He pointed at the bed. "Is juust a thoughtless body now?"

Mera stared at him. "No," she said eventually. "No way. He spoke to me."

"Yes, but it was only one sentence. It could have been his last gasp. What I'm seeing there doesn't look hopeful."

"Shut up, Rupert." She looked grimly at the blond head turning back and forth on her pillow. "He's in there."

*

One night Spike became aware of a voice running in the back of his mind, seeming to sing to him in an almost inaudible whisper. It echoed out from the empty place deep inside where his fears surged and billowed and he lay still at last, struggling to hear what it was saying. He began to heal.

Ever fascinated with Path's healing powers, Mera listened closely and watched with relief as her charge calmed down. But he kept his eyes firmly shut.

She brought him food - the first food of any kind that he'd eateen since he had made his life-changing decision. He knocked her hand aside when she tried to feed him and fed himself by groping blindly for the food with his fingers. Looking at the resulting mess, Mera decided that cooked food was not a terribly good idea if he was going to do that.

"You've got gravy over everything," she said. "Come on, get up so I can change the bed."

"I ain't going anywhere."

"No?" She picked him up and put him in a chair.

He swore at her.

"I know you're better," she replied calmly as she stripped the bed. "If you insist on acting like an invalid you will be treated like one."

From then on he got sandwiches. His eyes remained closed.

"You're going to have to open them some time," said Mera.

"When I decide I want to."

Four days later she decided it was war so she asked Rupert to stay away for a while and moved a television and vcr into the room, setting it all up at the foot of the bed - facing away from him. She put on some headphones, sat cross-legged on her makeshift bed and watched her favourite Monty Pythons; films she knew so well that she could quote every word and inflection. Which she did, loudly and continuously.

" - and public 'elf - what 'ave the Romans ever done for us?" she demanded, prodding an emphatic finger into her thigh.

" - piece of shit, when you look at it," she sang with a grin on her face, waving a can of beer from side to side.

" - my son, the jaws that bite, the claws that catch," she intoned with one eye on the stubborn occupant of the bed.

" - intelligent life somewhere up in space, 'cos there's bugger-all down here on Earth!" she yelled, glaring at the unruly bleached hair sticking out from under the duvet.

Spike turned over with a jerk and put a pillow over his head, so she unplugged the headphones and turned the volume up high.

It became a skirmish war. She was the skirmish, liable to happen to him at any moment.

On the evening of the eleventh day after Spike had been turned, Mera entered the room to find him sitting up and looking through her Python videos.

"At last," she said. "Is this permanent or are you just trying it out?"

"Got the series on video?" he demanded.

"I have, but I'm not going to lug them up here if you're just going to put your head under the pillow again."

He locked eyes with her. "Got Fawlty Towers?"

"Yes."

"Red Dwarf?"

"First four seasons."

"What about League of Gentlemen?"

"Of course."

He glared at her, thinking furiously, and Mera glared back, hands on hips, legs akimbo.

"Got Married With Children?" he demanded at last.

"No."

"Forget it, then." He fell back and pulled the duvet over his head, scattering the videos.

She gripped the edge of the bed and tipped it up, spilling him onto the floor. "But I have satellite," she said sweetly. "So you can watch it downstairs."

"Fuck!" he yelled, rubbing his shoulder.

"Any time you're in the mood, gorgeous." She threw some clothes at him. "As you are now sitting up and looking about, from this moment you're out of my bed." She looked away and frowned. "Do I mean that?"

He looked at the clothes. "These aren't mine."

"No. But they're new, they're black, they don't stink of oranges and you'll wear them or go naked. Again." She went to the door. "I'll be back in five minutes. If you're not dressed by then, I'll dress you." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't think I couldn't."

*

There was a full-length mirror at the top of the stairs and Spike spent a long time in front of it. Slowly, a smug smile appeared on his face.

"Oh yeah," he said quietly.

*

"I was missing the demon," said Spike later that evening. "I never knew that'd happen."

"Took me by surprise, too." Mera put a bowl in front of him and piled chocolate ice cream into it. "Say when."

"When your arm falls off." Spike watched avidly as she filled the bowl. "I keep thinking I should be drinking blood. Thought of it makes me want to chuck-up now."

"I expect it does. So what was going on in that head of yours? Until Path stepped in I thought you weren't coming out of it."

"So that was Path, then? I wondered who it was."

"She's a great healer." Mera sat down. "All I could get from you was fear. What were you thinking?"

"Everything." Spike filled a spoon and then filled his mouth. "Muh - " he shook his head and swallowed. "It was like I was on my own for the first time. Like I couldn't function without something else in there." He frowned. "Nah. That's not it. It was like - who's in charge now? Like I was thinking I needed a bloody manager who'll tell me what to do."

"Yes." Mera smiled. "William takes the blame."

"What?"

"Something I said to Rupert." She leaned toward him. "Welcome to responsibility, Spike."

*

The second of April was sunny and relatively warm for the time of the year so Mera, with Rupert looking on, tried to take Spike into the garden. Spike, however, wasn't going to be pressured.

"Bloody wait, will you? I'll do it on my own, all right?" He looked his boots, the toes of which he'd placed on the exact edge of a shadow. On the other side of that shadow was the enemy, the very thing that had tried so hard in the past to set fire to him.

"It won't hurt!" Mera said in exasperation. "You've been in the sun before when it couldn't hurt you, you know what it's like!"

Spike spoke with forced patience. "I had a magic ring. It was different. So piss off."

Mera threw up her hands. "Oh, brother!" She turned to Rupert. "What are you laughing at? Come on." She stepped into the sun and went to the table and chairs she'd set out on the grass. "There's beer!" she yelled back at Spike.

"I don't care!"

"Now, that I definitely don't believe," said Rupert as he joined Mera.

While Spike was still hesitating in the doorway, Rupert took the opportunity to speak to Mera privately. "I've made a decision about your offer," he said.

Mera looked at him with quick interest. "Yes?"

"Can't you tell?"

Mera closed her eyes. When she opened them again she smiled and put a hand on his arm. "That's grand news, Rupert. You know it won't be bad?"

"Yes, I remember what you said." Rupert took a sip of beer. "You were right, you know. It was stupid, not wanting to think about it because Olivia was going to die. If she dies, my life will still go on. I had to think about that. And when I realised I was actually considering it, I knew I had to decide now, not ten years from now."

"Did you tell Olivia it was extended to her too?"

"Yes. She hasn't answered yet." He looked back at Spike, who hadn't moved. "I don't want to do it until I've heard from her. And if her answer is no, I won't do it until she's - gone."

"Whatever you want," said Mera. "I'm going to tell Path right now." She closed her eyes again.

Rupert sat back, feeling very satisfied and at ease. He looked around at Mera's garden, still mostly in it's winter nakedness but with a little green fuzziness around the edges. The daffodils were putting up their shoots. Or were they tulips? He was about to take another beer when a pale hand reached over and took it away.

Spike sat down and looked around, cracking the tab on the can. "Nice day, innit?"

*

Wonder if Buffy's going to think I've changed.
Oh shit. They're all gonna be looking at me like I'm some kind of sodding freak. "Oooh, look! It's Spike! And he's in the sun! And he's not on fire!"
Bloody hell.
Angel's still a demon.
What if I'm so ordinary now that she starts thinking I'm a wi - that I'm nothing to write home about?
Nah. That's Riley-think, that is. Ain't going that route.
Yeah, but what if she does think that?
Oh, crap.
Shit.
Wha? Path? Yeah, thanks for the help before, love, but I'll work this one out on my own if you don't mind. What? Speak clearly? I am!

Spike burst into Mera's lounge. "This Path," he demanded. "She always there?"

"What do you mean?"

"She just spoke to me. Knew what I was thinking. She always eavesdrop like that?"

"No, no! Intrusion isn't her forte. She's just concerned, that's all. I'll tell her not to worry about you."

Spike was mollified. "Yeah, well. Not as if I mind, not really. It's just if a guy's got no privacy in his head what's he going to do?"

Mera grinned at him. "What were you thinking about?"

"Buf - none of your business!" He sat down. "And what's all this 'speak clearly' crap she gave me?"

"Ah. Let me explain."

*

What if she thinks I'm nothing now?

*

Back in his bedroom in Rupert's house, Spike stared at the mirror in disbelief. "Sunburn? I've got a vamp's body! What's this friggin' sunburn?"

Enjoying himself, Rupert leant against the doorframe. "Who was the last vampire you knew who managed to get a suntan after he was turned?"

"None, you silly git, they all combust - oh, what? Are you telling me if we - if they didn't catch fire they'd tan? Bollocks!"

"Look at yourself in the mirror again - if you can bear to - and tell me what else it could be."

"Bloody hell! It's April, not sodding July!"

"Spike, considering the century you grew up in, I doubt if anything except the skin on your face and hands have ever been exposed to the sun. Which means you're probably liable to burn at the slightest opportunity. I'd be very careful if I were you. Be wary of the wind, too."

Spike put his face close to the mirror and peered at the bridge of his nose. It was bright red. "Am I going to peel?"

"I sincerely hope so."

"Oh yeah, cheers mate."

*

On the morning of the twenty-third of April, Rupert stood at the french windows in his lounge and shook his head as he watched the ex-vampire walk around the garden in the sun. It was half past seven and Spike would be out there all day. The man seemed to regard a sunny day as a call to battle and never failed to show up at muster. Today he was bare-chested despite a chilly wind and Rupert wondered how bad the sunburn had to become before he started showing some caution. Spike, to his own extreme surprise, had already been made physically ill and his host didn't look forward to another night of listening to groaning and heaving coming from the guest bathroom. He dreaded what was going to happen when the weather really started to heat up.

When the doorbell rang he answered it and stood speechless as he gazed at Olivia for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

*

"Would you like a drink? Alchohol?" Rupert felt like a boy on his first date.

"No, I can't." Olivia sat on the sofa. "It makes me sick now."

Rupert nodded and, suddenly needing somewhere else to look, glanced out of the window. Spike was sitting on the steps that led down to the grass from the patio, watching something tiny crawl over his hand.

Olivia stirred. "Have you decided?" she asked.

"Mera's offer?" Rupert turned to face her. "Yes, I've decided."

She studied him. "You're going to do it."

"I have to. I want to. There's too much to do and not enough time. I love life a-and I know it's possible to make it throught the years - Mera's the proof of that. She isn't evil and - I don't want to die."

Olivia sat very still and Rupert felt a stab of worry. "How are you?" he asked softly.

"Not so good today."

"I'm sorry."

Outside, Spike stood up and walked down the steps onto the lawn. He looked around and turned right, moving out of view.

Olivia looked up at Rupert. "I love you."

"I love you too." Rupert smiled sadly.

"I saw a beautiful sunset the other night." She joined him at the window. "There are many beautiful things to look at in the world."

"Yes there are."

"Flowers." Olivia nodded at the garden.

"Mountains," added Rupert.

"You."

He laughed. "I wouldn't call me beautiful, but - "

"I don't want to die either, Rupert."

He froze, his heart suddenly thudding.

"I don't want to die," she said again.

Rupert found himself breathing fast. He concentrated and spoke slowly, carefully. "Heaven can wait?"

"Yes. Heaven can wait."

"For a very long time?"

"Yes."

"You want to see many beautiful things with me?"

"Yes."

"You're prepared to do what's necessary?"

"Yes."

"Are you afraid?"

"No."

"Good." His pulse was racing now. "Will you marry me first?"

"Yes."

"Tonight?"

"Yes."

"We need a registry office."

"I need a dress."

*

"Spike? God help me, but I need a best man."

"Oh, you're joking."

"Unfortunately, no. Put that cigarette out and come with me."

"Well, I ain't wearing a suit, mate."

"Yes you are."

*

"Why, I'd love to give Olivia away old boy! Who's going to be a witness?"

"A witn - er - "

"Quentin's here."

"Er - "

"He could do it, if you haven't other plans."

"Er - "

"Ah, the brain-dead bridegroom! Haven't seen one of those in years! Registry or church?"

"-"

"Speak up."

"Could you or Quentin get on the blower and arrange a registry office? We want it done tonight and we've clothes to buy and no time and - "

"Done, my friend. You go off and get the jitters."

*

"I ain't wearing a bloody suit!"

"Put. It. On."

*

When you employ the Watcher's Council to arrange things for you it all gets done very quickly and efficiently, and offices that are normally shut after 5 p.m. become magically open again.

At nine o'clock that evening at the Registry Office, while they were waiting for Olivia to arrive, Quentin took Rupert aside leaving Spike standing very self-consciously on his own.

"Michael told me about Mera's offer to you and Olivia," said Quentin. "I think it's very interesting. Have you answered her?"

"Yes."

"Which way did you go?"

"Which way?" Rupert looked amused. "You need to ask? You're not so sure I'll refuse?"

"Michael also told me that you were actually considering it - so yes, I need to ask." Quentin waved a hand at the room. "And you're about to marry a woman who is going to die soon, as far as the normal world is concerned." He paused. "Is she about to die?"

Rupert studied him. "Does it worry you?"

"Forewarned is forearmed."

"You think you'll need to be armed if I accept the offer?"

Quentin sighed. "Armed with knowledge, Rupert. If you do this I'll not come gunning for you, but people will need to know so I ask again - is Olivia going to die?"

"No, Quentin. She isn't."

"I thought as much. And when will this turn-around happen?"

"Right after the wedding."

Quentin studied him closely. "You do know it's quite possible that you and she will not stay together for ever?"

"I know that. She knows that. We're taking what we can, that's all. And while it lasts, it'll be everything we want." Rupert decided this was all the private information that Quentin was entitled to. "These people who need to know," he said. "Who are they?"

"Many and various. My successor, for instance." Quentin frowned. "Who, incidentally, is now number two on my list of candidates."

"Two? Why not number one?"

"I've just lost number one," said Quentin flatly.

Rupert opened his eyes wide. Everything suddenly fell into place. "Oh." He fought back a grin. "Really?"

"Really."

"And you spent all that money on me, too." Rupert laughed. "Will you be wanting the house back?"

"No. As I see it, I'll have even more reason to keep you sweet than I did before."

"Afraid of Mera, Quentin? I don't blame you. This means I get to keep the car too, then."

"Yes, Rupert," said Quentin wearily. "You keep the car." He glanced at Spike. "How is the ex-vampire?"

"He's fine," said Rupert. "Or rather, he appears to be fine. Never really know what's going on with that one."

"I'd like a report about the whole process," said Quentin. "Only if you have the time, mind you."

"Oh god, another one?"

"It's merely a request. After you've - changed - you will no longer be in my employ." Quentin studied his fingers. "The turning of a vampire into a non-vampire," he mused. "A fascinating and unique occurrence." He sighed. "Oh well. As I said: if you find the time, I'll be grateful."

"Oh, I see. A polite request with pressure." Rupert laughed. "I've nearly finished Buffy's story, so I'll see what I can do. After I've had a long, long honeymoon. I'll tell you now, though - you won't be getting the whole story. There's a secret something that you'll never be told." He looked firmly at him. "And it's no use arguing."

Quentin nodded and they fell silent. Rupert watched Quentin straighten his tie and knew there was something more the Head Watcher wanted to say to him. "Spit it out, Quentin," he said.

"Very well. I had contact from Mera yesterday."

Rupert felt a little thrill. "Oh yes?"

"Yes." Quentin's face was bland. "She told me of some hidden manuscripts that she thought I might like to look at."

"How interesting."

"Indeed." Quentin was not taken in by Rupert's apparent innocence. "Do you know what they are?"

"Yes, Quentin. I do."

Quentin waited. Rupert, wearing his best poker face, also waited.

At last Quentin sighed. "What are they?"

"Find out for yourself," said Rupert with a smile.

The head of the Council of Watchers knew when to let go. "Very well. You really are the most vexing man, sometimes."

Olivia and Michael arrived.

*

Two hours later:

"Well, as I live and breathe! And I do, too. If it ain't Mr. and Mrs. Giles!" Mera ushered them into her house and flapped around them, taking their coats. She glanced at Olivia. "Or is it Mr. and Ms? Never mind." She stood before them. "Ready?"

Rupert nodded. "We are."

"No doubts?"

"No," said Olivia.

"Come this way then, my dears. Everything's ready."

 

Chapter Fourteen

Sunnydale

 
 

"Buffy?"

"Giles! Hi! God, we haven't heard from you for ages! How`d everything go? You know, with Spike. Is it over? Is he okay? I want details, Giles."

"Yes, it's over. It took a while, but Spike is now, um...an un-vampire."

"It worked then." She took a deep breath and let it out hard. "So, no more evil demon. That has to be good. In fact, that's amazing. How - how's he liking it?"

"He has discovered the joys of sunburn."

"He can sunburn? Wow."

"He can burn, and I happen to know for a fact that he can vomit."

"A peeling nauseous Spike. Oh my."

"It was quite amusing."

"I bet. What about you? Everything good with my old Watcher?"

"Not so much of the old, if you don`t mind. I'm better than good, Buffy." He hesitated. "I`m married."

There was a silence. "What?" Another silence. "What was that? What! When? Who? Olivia, right? Why wasn`t I invited?"

"It happened last night and yes, I married Olivia. It was very rushed, Buffy, I`m so sorry I couldn`t tell you. There was no time. We made the decision, Michael arranged a registry office, we did it. From start to finish, less than a day. Or several decades, depending how you look at it."

Buffy sounded pitiful. "But - but I could have been a bridesmaid! I`ve never been a bridesmaid! I could have given you away! Oh, Giles! I could have thrown you down the aisle at her! Like a baseball!"

Rupert started laughing. "Buffy, slow down. Spike gave me away - err - was my best man. Now listen. We`re going to have a confirmation."

"You're...you're gonna have a what?"

"A confirmation. Well, that's what we're calling it, anyway. It's really nothing more than an excuse to have a party with all of  you. We've always disliked the official marriage service - so stuffy - so we`re going to have another one written entirely by Olivia and I. It will be in Sunnydale, and you are invited to be bridesmaid this time. But only if you really want to."

Rupert jumped and held the receiver away from his ear as Buffy screamed. When he listened again she was thirteen years old and babbling.

"Ohmygod! I gotta tell everyone! I have to get ready. I must do the buying of presents and clothes and stuff. Ohmygod, and more presents."

"And more clothes?"

"Yes! And, and more things and stuff! But why the rush, Giles? Tell me."

"Oh, well...m-many things were about to-to happen fast. Extremely fast. We wanted to get married before it all began. Oh, and I am now an unofficial member of the Council, in a way."

"Huh? Here I am again with the what? Unofficial? Why unofficial? Did you get the sack again? Wait a minute - what was that you said about Spike? Your best what? Oh god, too many whats. I`m getting a headache."

"Spike was my best man because out of all of them here he`s the one I know best, sadly. You should have seen him in a suit, Buffy. It was priceless."

"Oh. My. God." Buffy closed her eyes. "Does he show up in a mirror now?"

"Yes. He's spent a very long time admiring himself."

"Well, you better have photographs, Giles, that's all I'm saying. Okay. Okay. So what`s with the unofficial bit?"

"It has to be unofficial. Be-because of what happened just after our wedding."

"If you hedge any more I`m gonna reach down the line and pull off one of your balls."

Rupert coughed nervously. "All right. I-I`m not sure you`ll like this bit, Buffy. Olivia and I..." He took a deep breath. "You know Olivia is dying. Was dying. We - we wanted to get married as normal people, Buffy. Afterwards, Mera...oh, bloody hell!" Rupert ran out of breath and steam. He couldn`t say it, but he didn`t need to. She knew.

In Sunnydale Buffy held up a finger and said, very brightly: "Excuse me just one moment."

Rupert heard a clatter as she dropped the receiver.

*

Three days after Rupert and Olivia were married - and turned - Mera arrived at Little Eden with a stack of papers.

"I need signatures, and lots of 'em." She looked at Spike. "Yours too, gorgeous." She spread the papers out on Rupert's dining table. "Put your paw-prints here, and here. And there."

"What's this for, Mera?"

"Accounts."

"What accounts?" asked Spike, pricking up his ears.

"Your accounts. To enable you to access the mind-boggling fortune that Path and I have built up."

Rupert blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"As members of the family you're entitled to the money."

"A-are we? Oh."

Spike grinned. "Did you say Mind-Boggling?" Mera nodded and his grin grew wider. "Yeah, thought you did. So..." he leaned forward with an intent look on his face. "Just how much would that be? 'Cos I'm out of smokes."

Mera waved a hand. "Oh, we're positively rolling in it, dear. Like little fat pigs in shit."

*

On the twenty-ninth of April, Rupert received the phone call that he had been waiting anxiously for.

"Giles?"

"Buffy, oh thank heaven."

"Oh god, Giles, I'm so sorry. I-I was just - stunned, I think. I just couldn't imagine it. Couldn't picture it, not with you. It was very...freaky. But, but it's all right. I'm all right because this morning I thought of something and it made me laugh. You know what that was?"

"What?"

"Spike. You're his brother now!"

Rupert's mouth fell open. He listened to the noise coming down the line from Sunnydale, and then he held up a finger. "Would you...would you excuse me for one moment, Buffy?" He dropped the receiver and walked blindly into the kitchen, where the tiny sound of Buffy's laughter couldn't follow him.

*

On the sixteenth of June the sun was shining, as usual. Merry bunting fluttered in a light breeze. Willow also fluttered, having apparently regressed to the age of sixteen. She clung to Tara`s arm and jiggled in excitement. Xander nudged her.

"Better slow down, Will. The ground`s cracking."

"But it`s a wedding!" Willow burbled. "Giles' wedding! It's a wedding!"

Tara laughed. "She`s been like this since she woke up. It`s not really a wedding though, is it? It`s a party. The wedding`s been done."

"Oh, but it`s like a wedding and they even have bridesmaids! And they`re having it here! With us!" Willow went into superior mode. "And if I want it to be a wedding, it`s a wedding." She jiggled again.

Anya began to laugh.

Xander looked around at the guests. "Woah. To coin an English phrase - bloody hell. Look at Spike."

Anya turned. "He`s here finally? I thought he wasn`t going to show, what with not seeing anyone since he got back. Where is he - oh. Oh my."

Willow spotted him and squealed."Oh my god! In the sun! In a suit? He's in a suit! And sunglasses! Oh my god!"

They watched him come toward them.

"Can`t stand these bloody suit things," said Spike as he joined the group. Uncomfortable and nervous, he pulled at his collar. "I like the shades, though." The gang stared at him and he looked around, clearing his throat. "Well, this is nice."

"Yes, you`re lovely," said Tara, and winced. She gave herself a mental slap. "Ah, I mean - your suit, actually. You look really good. Oh, and welcome to the sunshine."

Catching his eye, Anya grinned and wiggled her fingers at him. "Look at you."

"Yeah, great. Everyone's looking at me."

"I'm not," said Xander.

"Harris. Didn't miss you at all, mate."

"Got my passport?"

"Nope. Burned it."

Unaware that with the exception of Spike`s mother she was probably the only human female to have ever voluntarily done so, Willow gave him a tight hug. His eyes grew wide.

"Spike, you look so fine! And the glasses, yes, they`re so cool! And your face is tanned - Buffy`s so going to freak when she sees you!"

"What, again?" Spike felt a little shaky.

"Oh, she means in a good way," said Tara.

"Yeah," Xander piped up. "We`re fairly sure she`ll only hit you the once."

Spike looked him up and down and grinned. "Well, look at you in your monkey suit."

Xander nodded calmly and the slanging match got under way. "So Spike, what are you now? What do we call ya? Still dead? Proof you don`t need a demon to be a pain in the ass? What`s the medical term? And I`m asking purely for irritation's sake. I want you to be clear on that one."

Spike opened his mouth but at that moment the music started. "Later," he said.

"You betcha."

They hurried to their seats in the front row. Becoming more nervous by the second, Spike picked up a prayer book with distaste. "Oh, sod. Have we got to do this stuff? Please say it isn`t so. I hate this god-bashing rubbish."

"Don't bother with them, Spike," said Xander. "I hate to think what would happen if you actually said one of those."

"Oh, bugger it all to hell."

"Stop whining."

"Sod off."

Unable to sit still, Willow turned in her seat and looked at the quests. "Oh, hey. Isn`t that Quentin Travers? There`s a guy with him. He looks ill. That must be that poor Michael guy Giles was telling us about," She turned and saw Spike gingerly holding the prayer book in forefinger and thumb. "Oh, don't worry. This is Giles, remember. Oh!" She flapped her hands. "They`re coming!"

It was a nice, romantic ritual with sunshine and quite a few laughs, the scent of flowers and many a loud and exaggerated "Aahh" from the dangerously emotional Scooby Gang. The prayer books, merely Rupert's way of getting a rise out of Spike, weren`t used at all.

Spike himself, however, suffered the jitters throughout the ceremony and had never before felt so nervous. He was the only guest who didn`t turn to look as, clad in a glistening deep green gown, Olivia came down the aisle with her two bridesmaids behind her. He sat rigid in the front row as Rupert and his wife turned to face the guests and the bridesmaids took position on either side of them. Hardly daring to move lest it drew attention to him, Spike spied on them from the corner of his eye.

Dawn was closest to him, wearing a deep blue gown and a huge grin. She looked as though she was about to laugh. Becoming bolder, Spike looked along the line and felt a shock go through him. There she was standing next to Rupert, dark red gown, flowers in her hair and a wide smile as she moved her head forward slightly and looked toward the Scoobies. Spike jerked his head down and wondered if he was going to vomit. Rupert and Olivia were speaking, but Spike didn`t hear a single word.

The ceremony ended unceremoniously when Rupert looked to his right, nodded, and a band banged into life. The bride, groom and the two bridesmaids linked arms in a line and led the laughing and clapping guests across the grass to the paved dancing area. The gang made their way to a table under a tree and dropped their jackets and bags, looking around the crowd for Buffy and the others. They saw her waving at them to join her and Dawn by the buffet and they made their way over.

"Hey!" said Xander. "Huge food!" He grabbed a plate and began heaping it on. "So, Buffy. Dawn. You`re both looking like this table. Very edible. Having a good time?"

"Having a great time," said Buffy. She laughed. "Giles was so out of it before the ceremony. I thought he was going to faint."

"He was really funny," said Dawn. "Olivia was really laid back, though. I like her, she`s cool. It's so good she`s not dying any more."

Anya looked around. "Where are they, then? Why aren`t they here? With us? All happy?"

"Doing the photograph torture thing." Buffy nodded to her left. Rupert and Olivia were seated on the grass smiling self-consciously at a photographer. "We`ll have to join them in a minute. Oh yeah - he wants us all to go visit him in England soon and we're not to worry about the cost 'cause he'll pay. So I told him we'd need a few weeks to think about it." She laughed. "Oh, and it must be all of us together. For as long as we like. Before autumn. He was very specific. He said something about sitting in the sun in his garden and there was mention of wine, cake and strawberries. Personally, I'm already there."

There was a loud burst of conversation and Willow began to jiggle again.

"Will," said Xander as they calmed down. "I swear you`re gonna wet yourself sometime today."

Tara looked over at the photographer. "Has Giles showed you the pictures of their other wedding yet?" she asked Buffy.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Funny to see Spike standing there all stiff."

"Stiff`s the word," said Xander. "In more ways than one. Hey, where is he anyway? Not that I care. I'm just...you know. Curious. In a bored way."

Tara saw Spike sitting at their table looking very alone. He`d taken off his jacket and tie, undone the top few buttons of his shirt and pushed up his sleeves, but he didn`t look any more relaxed.

"Poor Spike," said Willow. "He`s so nervous, Buffy. I think it took real courage to come here at all. Please go say hello to him?"

Buffy looked across at Spike sitting in the sun. The sun...she still couldn`t get her head around the fact that he had a right to do that and not burst into flames. She`d had a full report from Rupert about the unpleasant ritual he`d gone through and his traumatic week following it, and she felt uncomfortable knowing that he`d voluntarily gone through hell for her. Again. But Buffy had already made up her mind about Spike. "I tried to catch his eye earlier, but he wouldn`t look at me," she said.

"I don`t know why," said Xander around a mouthful of food. "I told him you`ll only hit him once." Buffy slapped him on the arm. "Ow."

"Olivia`s waving at us," said Dawn.

"Tell them I`ll be a minute."

Willow whispered in Buffy`s ear. "Go get him." Buffy grinned at her.

She made her way through the crowd on the dance floor. Spike saw her coming and felt an overpowering urge to run. He stood up quickly, sat down and knocked over his glass. When Buffy reached him he was trying to mop up with a paper napkin. He kept his eyes on the spilt wine, thankful to have something to look at.

She slid into the seat next to him. "Hi."

He glanced sideways at her. "Oh. 'Lo Buffy."

She smiled "That's a nice tan you`ve got there."

"Um." He continued to mop, although the napkin was falling to pieces.

She leaned her arms on the table. "So why didn`t you come see me and Dawn? We were expecting you all week. Giles didn`t know where you`d gone. And you weren`t at your crypt - I checked."

"Oh, well - didn`t want to intrude. You know. You and Dawn getting ready and everything. I booked me into a hotel suite." He grinned at the table cloth. "S'nice, being rich."

Buffy blinked. "Rich? Oh! Path's money, right."

"Yeah. Never be short of smokes again."

Buffy laughed. "Are you gonna stay in the hotel or go back to the crypt?"

"Dunno. Don't think it'd feel right now, going back to the old place."

"Hey!" Buffy faked a sudden thought. "What about moving in with me and Dawn for a while? Yeah, good idea! We`ve a spare room. Only if you want to, though." She looked at him, grabbed a bottle of wine and filled his glass. "Drink this, quick."

Dropping the sodden remains of the napkin, Spike lunged for the glass and took a big gulp. He opened his mouth and found that his voice didn`t work. From the corner of his eye he could see Buffy smiling at him and he blinked.

"Giles told me about your, ah, cure," said Buffy. "Sounded nasty."

Relaxing a little, he found his voice and shrugged. "Yeah, well. Wasn`t that bad."

"Giles also told me you`d say that."

Spike rode his emotional rollercoaster all the way back up to self-concious. Dying by degrees, he cast around for something to say. "So, you`re okay with Giles being what he is now?"

"Yeah. It shocked me, but I should have seen it coming when I had that call from him about, um, you know...my origins, and he told me about Olivia's illness. I always knew those two had something special." She looked across at Rupert, who pointed at the photographer and waved them over. She ignored him. "I'm okay with it. I mean, look at what I am. Even if I wanted to I couldn't criticise them. There's no evil wigginess involved and that's all that matters. Strange to think of them living forever, though." She looked closely at Spike`s face. "You seem the same. I`m glad. I`d have hated for you to change in some way. I was worried about that."

Embarrassed, Spike shook his head and changed the subject. "The ceremony was good, I thought."

"Oh, you saw it then?" Buffy took a sip of his wine and grinned slyly. "With your head down like that I thought you were asleep."

Spike stared at the lip-print she`d left on his glass.

"You didn`t look at me at all, I know that," she continued, pouting. "Still haven`t."

"Oh, I did." He straightened up and looked directly at her at last. "You - you looked really nice. Still do."

"Thanks."

"Really nice. Like the sun." Horrified at what his mouth had just said, he clamped his lips shut. Where had the Big Bad gone? He felt as though he`d left all his cool back in that terrible little room in England.

"Like the sun? Wow. You're looking pretty cosmic yourself." Looking at his face, Buffy took pity on him and changed tack. "It`s good you came today, Spike. We needed all the gang together for this."

"Yeah. Um, you`re welcome."

"You do know you`re one of the gang, don't you? You were a Scoobie long before you left for England."

"Uh, yeah. All right." He shrugged. "I suppose."

"You`re sure you know that?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"Right." Shocking him rigid, she leaned in and kissed him hard. "So what are you doing all the way over here?" She stood up and pulled him to his feet. "Get your ass over with us."

She slid an arm around his waist and guided his suddenly unstable body around the dance floor toward the patch of grass where the rest of the gang was sitting waiting for them.

As they walked, she looked up at him and spoke seriously. "There`s food, you know. The kind you can eat now, too."

She nodded solemnly at him and sudden amusement made Spike`s lips jerk into his familiar smirk. A laugh bubbled up and he felt his cool returning.

Buffy waved her free hand and continued: "Yep. And dancing together reeaaly close. Lots of that. There is also much talking to be done, and presents to be giving." She was on a roll now. "And later there will be drunkeness and tone-deaf singing. I`m ashamed to tell you this, but you'll probably have to carry me home. Oh, and please listen carefully - one of the bridesmaids must be kissed repeatedly or she'll just, you know, go totally out of control, and that...well, wouldn`t be pretty, that`s all I'm saying. It`s important, see? And there`s photographs to be taken, for God's sake - hi, gang."

"Just sit the fuck down in front," said Rupert, channelling Ripper once again.

Full to the brim now with utter cool, Spike grinned and turned to the photographer. "Wotcher. So where d'you want us then, mate?"
 

 

****************
 

EPILOGUE

 
 

The bell above the door of Mitchings' single shop rang lightly as Rupert, hefting a carrier bag, stepped out into warm August sunlight. He turned and strolled up the road, looking around at the pretty little village.

Mitching in summer was a chocolate-box photograph with flowers cascading over walls and around doors, and deep green secrets under bushes and trees. In the surrounding fields the crops approached harvest, and Rupert saw that overnight a joker had spent some time creating an unusual crop circle. Looking at the shape of it, he had a strong suspicion that he knew the culprit.

The heady scent of roses came to him on a small breeze and he breathed deeply, relishing the thought that next August he would smell it again...and the next, and the next for a hundred years, or a thousand. Would he ever grow tired of it? Would there ever come a year, far in the future, when he would walk through a rose-garden and not notice?

"Remember the scent of roses," he told himself. "Always remember."

But if there was one thing Mera had taught him it was that only the forgettable became forgotten; the wonderful remained wonderful for all time. He'd seen her in her garden with her nose in a flower and a smile on her face. He didn't think he would forget.

He strolled on, thinking of Mera's promise to visit sometime this afternoon. He was looking forward to her arrival. He grinned and swung the bag, making it clank a little.

A lazy summer cat sauntered into the road and lay down without a care in the world, it's tail slowly swishing on the warm asphalt. It fixed yellow eyes on him and then, to show him how unimportant he was, yawned with cool contempt and turned it's head away as he walked past and turned into his drive.

"Come on, Rupes!" The pesky ex-vampire stood at Rupert's open door and waved him on impatiently. "We're dying of thirst here!" The lithe figure turned and disappeared into the house.

It was close, thought Rupert as he shut his front door. It was very close, he could feel it. He walked through into his lounge. Any moment now it would happen. He went to the french windows and paused, watching, then he walked down the steps onto the lawn and bowed in response to the languid cheers that greeted the bottle of wine he took out of the bag.

"At bloody last. Give me that."

"That's my Watcher, that is. I'm so proud of him."

"You're the man, G-Man."

"Hey! This is sodding warm!"

"You're the one who was dying of thirst," answered Rupert calmly. "I'll put the others in the fridge."

"You know this bloke's got three fridges in his house? Three! And not a drop of booze in any of 'em."

"That's because you have once again drunk it all."

"Hey! What do you mean - once again?"

"Did you really think I didn't know, Spike?" Rupert gave him a withering look. "I was just too tired to stake you at the time."

Spike grinned at him.

The doorbell rang and Buffy looked up at Rupert quickly. "Mera?" she asked.

Rupert nodded and hurried back up the steps, but stopped before he entered the house. It had to be now; Mera hadn't been present in his vision.

He turned and looked back at his guests lounging on the colourful blankets and chatting and laughing as they drank from the crystal glasses that he'd gone all the way to London to find. Olivia took a sip of wine and looked up at him with a smile, knowing what he was waiting for.

"Here you go," said Willow as she reached across a prone Xander and handed Buffy a plate.

"Why thank you, kind witch," said Buffy. "Woah. Could you fit any more cake on here?"

"Not without magic," replied Willow, cutting a huge slice for herself.

Spike drained his glass and stretched out his legs with a sigh. He leaned back on his elbows, raising his face to the sun.

Dawn watched his foot tapping and nudged it with her knee. "What's the song?"

"Nothing you'd know, young bit," he answered, his eyes closed. "Way before your time."

"Don't you think it's interesting," said Tara. "How a song can run all day in the back of your head, even if you don't want it to?"

"Yeah," said Spike lazily. "Drives me nuts sometimes."

"Why's that?" asked Dawn.

"Get Puff the Magic bleedin' Dragon stuck in your head and you'll know why."

The roses nodded in the breeze and...yes, there went the blackbird, flying across the garden to settle on the sundial.

"Hey, An," mumbled a drowsy Xander. "Some of those strawberries would make me a happy man right about now."

"Coming right up, honey."

With a feeling of closure, Rupert watched Anya pile strawberries into a glass dish and pour cream over them. From his position between Willow and Buffy, Xander opened one eye to watch the process.

"Bit more," he said. "And a little bit more. Aaaand...thank you, An." He sat up and took the dish, dipping a finger in the cream. "I am now yours for life."

"You say the nicest things." Anya settled her head on his feet and closed her eyes. "Now don't move for the rest of the day."

"Not a problem."

Four quick rings on the doorbell told Rupert that Mera's patience was running out. He took one more look at the scene in his garden, then turned and hurried inside to let her in.

 

END

 

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