Title: Waiting For The Miracle
Date
Posted:
Author: Buffywatcher
Feedback: Constructive comments always welcome: [email protected]
Pairing: Primarily Angel(us)/Spike/
Rating: R Possibly a bit of romantic NC-17’ish circumstances.
Spoilers: Series Finale of Buffy.
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them for a bit of harmless fun. All
characters, recognisable
likenesses are retained by their owner and accredited license holders.
Writer’s
Notes: This story takes place post-Buffy
finale and will pretty much ignore for the most part the current season of
Angel. As always thanks are going out to GF, MarieC, Luba, and Mera my most
excellent group of Beta/Editors.
Distribution: If I’ve already been given permission to archive my
work please consider it yours if you want it. If I haven’t and you would like
to archive it please do, all I ask is that you email me and tell me where it’s
going so I can visit J.
Summary: An ancient Evil has awakened and Angel is forced to
contact Giles for assistance and he sends some surprising help.
Angel
hurries into the conference room shrugging into his jacket with a groan of
pain. Every muscle aches and it feels like those aches have aches of their own
but he forces himself not to snarl at the tired faces of the people slumped
around the conference table. “Reports.” He knows his
voice is sharper than he intended and tries to temper it with a small smile.
“I’ve
finished going over the data and as nearly as we can estimate, violent crimes have
escalated over 600% since the month of the eclipse. Demon attacks are actually
down by almost 70% in all quarters of the city, with the heaviest reports of
incidents being reported, strangely enough, from the nicer parts of town.” Fred
says in a clipped tone. The shadows under her eyes and her gaunt appearance
shout at her overwhelming exhaustion.
“We’re
seeing similar numbers among our client base unfortunately. We’ve got 137 new
clients this month with similar numbers the month before that and the 3 months
before that. Nearly all are violent crime cases. Many of our older clients have
been in contrast very quiet. Most haven’t even been in contact at all since the
eclipse and aren’t returning phone calls. I’d hazard to guess that they’re
getting out of town while the getting is good.” Gunn reports, throwing a stack
of files in his hand haphazardly across the table. His physical condition is
much the same as that being suffered by everyone else at the table.
“The
Entertainment Division is in an uproar. Most of the upper class talent seems to
have decided now would be an excellent time to take extended vacations. Quite a
few have broken some major league contracts and legal proceedings will start
pouring in if we can’t figure out what’s going on.” Lorne groans with
uncharacteristic gloom. At his lovely bit of news about still more legal cases
looming, Gunn starts muttering to himself.
“Strangely
enough things on the mystical front are actually quieter than normal. There is
one thing that has me very alarmed however. Every mystic and psychic employed
by the firm has ceased to function within the city limits. Once they move
outside the city their abilities return to normal but eerily enough they can’t
tap into anything happening within the city boundary. Only the strongest
witches and warlocks are still able to function and most of them are finding
their powers limited within the city limits as with the others. We’ve currently
got only two fully functional magic users on staff and one of them did not
report to work this morning. I don’t know what’s going on but it’s big, very,
very big.” Wesley reports tiredly, strain showing in every movement. “I’ve
poured over every book and text we’ve got and I can’t find even the slightest
resemblance to any events we are currently experiencing. I think perhaps we
should contact what’s left of the Watcher’s Council; their libraries are as
extensive as our own. Perhaps they might have some idea of what’s causing
this?” He suggests pulling his glasses off and tossing them on the table in
favour of rubbing his eyes.
“Everyone
get out of here and try to get at least 4 hours of sleep. We’re not doing
anyone any good like this. I’ll put a call into Giles and see if he can get in
touch with the Council and get us some help.” Angel says as he picks up the
phone and everyone files out like battle weary soldiers that have seen one fire
fight too many. He dials a number he knows by heart and closes his eyes at the
sound of a welcome and familiar voice. “Giles, this is Angel, we need some help
out here in
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Angel leans against the Viper and
watches the large nondescript cargo plane landing on the quiet strip. He
grimaces in sympathy as Gunn pulls his coater tighter around his shivering form
and almost suggests he get back in the car to wait. He thinks back to the
strange phone call he received from Giles this morning.
“Hello,
Angel, Giles here. I’ve contacted the Council but it seems they were already
aware of your situation. They’ve already dispatched their top Intervention Team
to
“Intervention
Team, Giles?”
“It’s an
experimental concept the Council has been testing in order to deal with the
enormous amount of currently active Slayers. From what my friends on the
Council have told me the Teams have been amazingly effective, the Alpha team in
particular has been responsible for that. They usually work in teams of 5 but
for the Alpha team only has 4 members as all but 1 member is a seasoned
veteran; they are incredibly powerful as a unit.”
“What kind
of a team are we looking at here Rupert? This town is in enough of a mess
without adding some gung ho Council trained bully boys.”
“From what
I understand Angel, these teams were enacted to replace such… bullies. The
information on the teams is highly guarded, with only the inner Council having
full access but given my status they made some allowances. They’ve told me the
typical teams are comprised of a high level witch, a trained Slayer, one apprentice
Slayer or witch, who has undergone their fundamental training and just needs
field experience and an occultist researcher with Seer powers. Apparently the
Powers That Be have had some hand in the assemblage of the teams. ”
“That’s
only 4 Giles. You said these teams are typically composed of 5 members.”
“Ah yes
well glad to see you were actually paying attention. The last member is …well…
for lack of a better term… a hunter.”
“By hunter
I am assuming you mean a predator.”
“Now Angel
I know that tone of voice. The Council learned the value of having such…
predators on their side. Buffy wouldn’t have lived to be the oldest Slayer in
generations without first your assistance and later Spike proved equally
invaluable. They’ve found other Demons willing to turn on their own kind and so
far as I’ve relayed prior, they’ve proven remarkably effective.”
“In case
your high and mighty Council has forgotten Giles, Spike DIED helping Buffy.”
“I am
sorry about Spike, Angel. Truly I am. He was … a very unique individual and
I’ve actually found myself sad that he’s gone. I didn’t realize until he was
gone just how much he had actually done for us all. Now that Buffy and Xander
are running the Slayer training facility, and with Dawn and
“I know
what you mean. You said this team is different than the others though? Do you
know how it’s different?”
“Well I’m
told that the 4 are all close, consider themselves a family to the point that
they actually share a home both in the field and when off duty. I do however
know that at least one of the members of the Alpha team is indeed a witch and
unless I miss my guess Angel, I suspect its likely
it’s
“
“She’s not
the young woman you remember Angel, I think you’re going to be in for a shock.
I suspect though I cannot confirm it, given the classified nature of the Alpha
team, Faith is the Slayer and Dawn is in all likelihood the apprentice. I put
out some inquiries into the exact nature of the last member of the team and was
quite politely told to basically well to use a Spike phrase bugger off.”
“Well I
guess we’ll learn the specifics when they get here then. Thank you Giles.”
“Damnnnnn would you look
at that shit?! Whoever these guys are
they’re pretty well tacked out!” Gunn’s incredulous voice snaps Angel out of
his reverie.
The cargo plane has taxied to a
stop and the huge rear bay has lowered and a huge black S.U.V. slowly drives
down the ramp, pulling a matching trailer. The sight is impressive but Angel
finds his attention distracted by a strange sense of awareness that dances
along his nerves. For a second he starts to look around expecting against hope
to see his incorrigible Grand-Childe standing in the shadows but all he finds
are the shadows. That is one face he will never see again and one he still
mourns in the privacy of his thoughts. The roar of a powerful engine tears
through the night and he stares amazed as a gleaming black and chrome Harley
roars off the cargo plane, guided by an experienced rider, garbed all in black
and wearing a black duster and a concealing helmet with a mirrored faceplate.
The black leather leaves little doubt that the rider is powerfully built though
rather slender build and obviously male. Even at a distance Angel knows that
the rider is a Vampire, one of some age as power fairly oozes from the
enigmatic rider. The slender rider clinging to his back is similarly attired
and given the obvious curves, is clearly female. He knows without being told
that this is the Hunter Giles was referring to during his call.
The Harley accelerates past them
with a burst of speed and a familiar laugh shivers over Angel’s nerves as he
and Gunn are startled into jumping back a foot as they roar by. The S.U.V.
stops and the front doors open to spit out
“Sorry about that Angel. He gets a
bit…frantic still when he’s confined for any length of time and it was a long
flight here from
The sound draws his attention back
to the pair happily hanging in his arms and he puts them down with a self-conscious
smile that has them both chuckling. Both are dressed pretty much the same.
Black tops made of some silky material tucked into black leather jeans, boots,
and overall a feminine cut black leather dusters. Willow’s hair is as fiery as
ever, cut into a chic straight shoulder length bob that frames her face.
Faith’s hair is still a waterfall of chestnut waves pulled back neatly off her
face by a black leather headband. Both of them fairly radiate a power and
confidence that only enhances their already formidable beauty. They haven’t
changed much at all in the 6 years since he last saw them.
As he notes the changes he takes a
deep breath and sighs for so much lost time and freezes as still as stone. He
inhales again and again, as
“SPIKE!! The ones on the Harley were SPIKE and Dawn?!??
Willow… HOW?” Angel says frantically wanting to jump
into his Viper and chase after his miracle childe.
“Why don’t I ride with you back to
your offices and I’ll explain along the way. Gunn can ride with Faith in her
baby here.” Willow says motioning to the black S.U.V. and the winking Slayer
who is already dragging Gunn towards the large vehicle, even as she’s being
pulled towards the Viper by Angel.
Angel leads the way out of the
airport his mind a jumble of emotions, memories; and an overwhelming desire to
find Spike then hug him until he screams for mercy and then knock his block off
and hug him some more. All he can think is, he’s not dead, Spike isn’t dead,
and he has his bleach blonde pain in his ass back!
Angel sighs and nods. He does
understand that need, thinking of a well handled sketch hidden carefully in his
bureau drawer in his apartment.
“Buffy wanted to keep the pendant
but I wouldn’t let her and again I don’t know why it was so important that I
keep it but I refused to let anyone take it.” Willow runs her fingertips along
the neckline of her shirt, catching a chain and pulling out the pendant. “It’s
never been off of my neck since I found it that day. I’ve tried to take it off
and the same thing always happens; watch.” He watches as she pulls the pendant
off and sets it on the dashboard. Within the blink of an eye it’s simply gone
and reappears around her neck once more. He blinks in amazement and yanks his
eyes back to the road when he realizes that he was staring at her cleavage as
much as the pendant.
“I don’t see how this leads to
Spike being back when everything indicated he was dead?” Angel says in a rush,
trying to get his mind off
“I went to
“You’re lovers.” He says softly. “I
can smell his scent on you.”
“I can see why Buffy always said
that was a creepy little habit.”
“You’ve MATED!” Angel shouts
shocked, wrestling the powerful car back into control as he unintentionally
jerks the wheel.
“Yes, we’re mates but we’re not yet
complete.”
“What do you mean by that?!”
“The Powers That Be have told Spike
and I that we are not complete alone. Our full abilities will only be unlocked
when we find the one that is destined to be our third, the one that will anchor
us as our shared Mate. Until that day we are charged with protecting the
balance of power for we are a compromise Angel.”
“A compromise? A compromise in what
regard?”
“We are a compromise between the
Powers That Be and the Darker powers Angel. Despite his soul, which he still
has by the way, Spike is and always will be a Demon. That is his function in
our group; he is the resolve to do the things we in our pure humanity just
cannot do. He is our warrior, the purity of destructive power, our strength, and
the base that we cannot build on without him. Faith’s purpose is similar but
she is the purity of duty, of responsibility, and of contrasting forces held in
harmony. She is light and darkness, tempered by both to hold a razor’s edge.
Dawn is the innocence of dreams and flights of fancy; she is the energy that
sustains us, the warmth that holds back the cold purpose we are called to
fulfil. She is a Slayer and a witch, both and she will grow up to be a powerful
agent for the Powers one day.”
“And you Willow and this… person…
that you and Spike need to Mate with?”
“I am… a conduit I guess you could
say. I am bound to Spike for Eternity, through the pendant, as will be our
shared Mate. The connection is never dormant; I can feel him every second of
every day. I can reach out and touch him at any moment, I can see what he sees,
I can hear him in my head. Faith and Dawn are to an
extent linked to us as well through the pendant but to a lesser degree. I can
use the pendant to communicate with them after a fashion.”
“And where is the little shit right
now? I’m going to knock the Brat’s head off for not telling me he wasn’t dead.”
He glances at
“That’s not why I’m laughing Angel.
Come on this is SPIKE we’re talking about here. He’s been cooped up for HOURS
on an airplane, coming back to L.A. to help someone that frankly he’s not
gotten along with very well in over a century… where do YOU think he is?”
“So which bar is he at?” Angel says
disgusted not to have realized where Spike would head to.
The club they go to is a circus of
lights and writhing bodies and drunken debauchery… in short its right up
Spike’s alley.
Angel stares at the first glimpse
of Spike in years. He is still a leather gloved sexual fantasy made manifest,
radiating a sensual firestorm of energy that ensures that no matter where he
may roam, he’ll never do it unnoticed. Outwardly he hasn’t changed much. His
leather jeans mould his sleekly muscled legs and cling tenaciously to his
powerful hips, cupping that ass that should be in a museum somewhere under
guard it’s THAT perfect. He watches as
A low growl starts to build deep
inside his belly at the sound of a soft gasp of pain followed by a low purr of
pleasure that he sure is audible only to his hyperactive senses. His tongue
darts out to lick his suddenly parched lips as a sleek cap of fiery red hair
and the slow sweep of a relishing tongue dart forward to catch that trickle of
blood with a slow relishing lick. He’s barely able to restrain a moan at the
sight of
He doesn’t hear the delighted coo
of Faith’s pleasure at the scene unfolding before her, every sense he has is
locked onto his wickedly debauched Grand-Childe. No his Childe, he corrects
himself. In the wake of Drusilla’s final death a few years ago, responsibility
for this fiendish son is his and his alone! He watches as powerful arms sweep
around the equally fiery redhead at his side and pull her into a blatantly
carnal kiss that could well have resulted in a pregnancy if his evilly
tempting Childe were still human. He
watches as his Childe’s Mate slowly pulls away and holds up a midnight black
duster for him to slip into, smoothing it over his lithe and agile form with
pleasured lazy sweeps of her palms. The sight and smell of the still bleeding
wounds have him drunk on sensation as his eyes sweep up to drown in oceans of Cerulean blue that shine with
glints of amber yellow and he is lost.
Angel growls as Spike turns on his
heel, duster flaring around him as he stalks across the floor and out the back
door, growling low in his chest. He bounds after his Childe, no other thought
but to claim what is his.
Gunn yells and starts to follow,
confused by what’s going on but he finds himself surround by
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Spike slips easily into an easy jog headed for
the back fence that borders the rear of the club, grinning at the sound of the
heavy metal door being flung open explosively behind him. He feels his muscles
coil and tighten in readiness as he spins into an agile back handspring landing
in a crouch and leaping into a back summersault to land in a crouch with cat
like graceful ease on the top of the fence where he perches like a lazy panther
as his Grand-Sire approaches. “’Ello Cutie.” He purrs. “Miss me, Daddy?” He
rumbles lowly, knowing Angel can hear him as clearly as if he’d shouted. “Not
feeling very talkative I take it Peaches. Shame I guess that means no welcome
back kiss for Baby then.” He chuckles as Angel’s stalking accelerates into a
run and he leaps off the top of the fence landing in a full out run as he streaks
into the night with Angel’s roar of fury in his ears as he scales the fence and
follows his incorrigibly arrogant Childe into the gathering shadows of the
night.
TBC
In the next part of this story:
Angel and Spike stalk each other
through the city, what will happen when Angel finds his impudent Childe?!