TITLE: Anchor (Part 13/16)
AUTHOR: Kerry Blackwell
PAIRING: Genfic - B/S and X/A as on the show
RATING: R
SPOILERS: Through "Wrecked" on Buffy and "Dad" on Angel
TIMELINE: Imagine it's about six weeks after those episodes and the ones we saw didn't happen.
DISCLAIMER: All things Buffy and Angel belong to Joss Whedon, the WB, UPN, FOX and Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. I own only my genius (yeah, right!)
DISTRIBUTION: My site - White Hats - http://www.whitehats.co.nz (as soon as I'm well enough to code it and upload it) Any one else please ask first
FEEDBACK: Yes please!
THANKS: To Sarah for her editing assistance, and to Sarah and Ang for being ready to brainstorm with me when I begged appropriately.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I started this after seeing "Wrecked" and "Dad". My take on what could have happened next. It got totally Jossed immediately of course and since it takes me a long time to write anything, it got more and more AU as time went by. I had hoped to post it in the break, before anything _more_ happened, but I didn't manage it. Anyway, here it is. Just forget what happened after those two episodes and read my version. Please...

CHAPTER NOTE: "ahmic" is pronounced AH-vic and is about the only bit of IrishGaelic I know, having picked it up from a novel. It means "my son". (I think that's right.)

"I _still_ think this is a really bad plan," Angel said firmly as he placed Connor in Buffy's arms.

"I know," she agreed gravely. "We'll take care of him."

Spike came striding up to them, looking every inch the Big Bad. His black jeans and t-shirt hugged all his angles and curves in a way that Buffy found decidedly sexy. He'd found himself a new red shirt – she knew it had to be new because she'd ripped the old one off him several weeks ago and after that it had only been fit for the ragbag – and his black leather duster swirled around his legs in a suitably evil manner.

Buffy herself felt ridiculous. She was dressed to be Harmony, in a frilly blouse that accentuated her breasts much more than she was really happy about. The leather pants were more her style, except that she probably would have chosen any other colour before powder blue. Considering Harmony had been one of Cordelia's 'Cordettes' when she was alive, Buffy wasn't quite sure what had happened to her dress sense when she had died.

A fact that Cordelia herself was commenting on at length in the background, mostly, Buffy suspected, so that she didn't have to think too hard about what they were all about to do next.

"Stop fussing, Peaches," Spike said firmly. "We'll take care of the kid." He slid into game face and ticked Connor's chin, making the baby chuckle. "See, Uncle Spike's going to look after you."

Angel rolled his eyes.

And Xander, testing the heft of an axe nearby, couldn't resist the opportunity to tease at least one of his two least-favourite vampires that he was kind of friends with.

"If Connor is Angel's son," he pointed out pedantically, "and he's your, what, grandfather, doesn't that make Connor _your_ uncle, Spike?"

Surprisingly, Spike chose to be magnanimous and simply ignored the comment. "If you lot are all going to be in place before us, hadn't you better get moving?"

It was a quarter past eight. Harmony's 'auction' was scheduled to start in forty-five minutes and the collective White Hats were about as ready as they were going to be.

Tara had arrived within twenty minutes of Xander's phone call, and she and Willow had settled to working together planning how best to ward the house. Willow was clearly twitchy, the close proximity to even just discussion of magic making her uncomfortable. But she was refusing to let it beat her, planning with Tara which spells would be the best to work. She had called herself the 'consultant' with a shaky laugh and Tara had backed her up on that without hesitation.

Dawn was sitting on the sofa, pouting. Oh, she knew they were all correct, and staying at Revello Drive was the best place for her to be. Like pretty much everyone who met him, she adored Connor already and wasn't going to do anything that might put him in further danger. But that _did not_ mean she had to like it.

Giles was keeping a surreptitious eye on her while he checked over the collection of crossbows. In the midst of all these people and all this activity, she radiated an air of dejected loneliness that he doubted she was even aware of. As Buffy had lost touch with the Scoobies and the world in general, she'd taken Dawn part of the way with her. Something would have to be done to fix that. But unfortunately, as was so often the case, the immediate evil took priority.

For an instant, he wanted to scoop up both Buffy and Dawn and carry them back to the flat in Bath. Let them live there in safety and ignorance, concerned about nothing more than who to date and how much makeup to wear. Except that he knew it was impossible. Neither would be happy in a life like that, and you can't beat destiny, no matter how hard you try. He'd learned that the hard way.

Dawn glanced up, feeling his gaze on her, and pulled a face. He smiled and shrugged and she had to struggle not to smile back. She'd be all right. They'd both be all right. They just needed to work on it. And this time, he wasn't going to bugger off to England when the going got tough. He'd stick it out as well.

He shouldered one crossbow and picked up a second from the table. "Are we all ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Anya agreed, but she didn't sound particularly certain. She took the weapon he offered with a mixed combination of gratitude and trepidation.

Xander swung his axe one final time and nodded. "Let's roll."

"Indeed," Wesley agreed in a quiet steady voice. He started for the door and the Angel Investigations team followed him automatically. All except for Angel himself, who paused to check his son one last time.

"Look after him, Buffy." He tried to make it sound like an order, but it only came out as a desperate plea.

"I already said I would," she said firmly. "Now, vamoose. Go get the bad guys." But she smiled gently as she said it, and he nodded slowly. With one more look at Connor, he reluctantly joined the others in the front hall.

"Be there right on nine," Giles reminded Buffy and Spike. "We'll be ready. And as soon as you can, hand Connor over to Fred or Gunn. They'll bring him back here."

"We'll have the wards ready," Tara promised.

"We know the plan, Watcher," Spike said, his voice both mocking and deadly serious.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed with a nod. "We've got the plan. Get moving, all of you. Or we'll be there before you."

"Hmmpf," Angel muttered as they headed out into the night.

"Can you tell where they are?" Buffy hissed to Spike as they entered the warehouse. Connor felt suddenly heavy in her arms, as fragile as spun glass and as precious as diamond.

"They're here," the vampire assured her as he followed her inside. "Flounce more, Slayer," he added quietly. "You're supposed to be Harmony, remember?"

Buffy grinned. "And you're my minion," she added. "Don't forget that."

"Been your sodding minion for years," Spike muttered.

"I heard that," Buffy retorted, deliberately sounding offended.

All the same, she did her best to 'flounce' as requested. She actually found it easy to do, and then couldn't decide it that was comforting or scary. For an instant, she flashed on the person she had been when she was first Called; the self-absorbed, shallow teenager who had given Merrick such grief. It was like remembering someone from another life, another whole universe, who had nothing to do with the person she was now.

The warehouse was clearly a common location for clandestine dealings. Ragged, disordered rows of crates and boxes filled most of the large space, but at the centre was a cleared place. A rectangular metal table glittered blackly in the light from two naked light bulbs, swinging on long cords from the high ceiling. Chairs were scattered around it, left where they had been pushed back when the last users of the location left.

One chair was currently in use.

A man was sitting in it. Short, middle-aged and balding, he didn't look particularly dangerous or evil. The man standing behind him, arms crossed across his chest, was a different matter. He had to be something over six feet tall, solid and muscular with it, sporting a bristling crew cut, a black suit and a menacing air.

The man sitting at the table looked up as Buffy and Spike stepped out from between a row of boxes. He looked them up and down for a moment before his gaze settled on Connor.

"So this is the kid?" His question seemed as innocuous as the rest of him did. Buffy's heightened senses detected nothing unusual from him – as far as she could tell he didn't have magic, he wasn't a demon, we didn't seem to be much of anything.

"Human," Spike whispered quietly, confirming her suspicions.

She didn't how who this guy was, but he seemed a little out of place in this congregation of evil out to posses a vampire's child. She didn't dare ask either, as she figured Harmony – or whoever had been the actual brains behind this scheme – would already know, and she was supposed to be Harmony.

"Yeah," she agreed lightly, trying to sound like she didn't care what happened to Connor. "The magic baby, right here in my arms."

The man snorted. "I don't believe in magic, I already told your messenger boy that. I just know the kid's worth money, and I have nothing against money."

"Maybe I should just sell direct," Buffy suggested, quite sure that wasn't out of character.

The man laughed again. "You don't have my contacts, little girl. Don't try to play with the big boys."

Quite unable to help herself, Buffy bristled. She'd taken on a _god_ and won. Well, kind of, anyway. "I think I can hold my own," she retorted tightly, knowing the instant Spike's hand closed warningly on her arm, that she shouldn't have let him get to her.

"I'm sure you can." It was a new voice, silky and dangerous and coming from further around the table.

Two people stepped out from through the crates; an Asian man and a well dressed woman. Buffy knew who these two had to be. Gavin Park and Lilah Morgan. Cordelia had given her a long description of the pair, a sharing of information that would have been better called a diatribe. Lawyers with Wolfram and Hart, attorneys to the rich and evil.

Which, really, had confirmed everything Buffy had ever suspected about lawyers.

"You're a young one," Lilah added as she calmly took a seat at the table. "I think Mr Lombardi might be right. You're out of your depth." She smiled, and it was a cold, feral expression. "Of course, not as out of depth as he is."

"Hey, now…" The man she had called Lombardi looked and sounded offended and the giant behind him shifted on the balls of his feet at his boss's words, as if anticipating violence.

"Ms Morgan meant nothing by that," Gavin interjected smoothly. "As one of the firm's valued clients, she holds you in great respect."

The look of derision on Lilah's face suggested otherwise. "He doesn't even believe…" she began.

A sudden, furtive movement from Gavin and the way Lilah's lips tightened suggested he had just trod heavily on her foot.

"Isn't this cozy?" Another new voice, another pair of newcomers. Harmony, Buffy realised, must have stipulated that the bidders came in groups no larger than two.

This one was the demon she had seen in the cemetery, Sahjhan Angel had called him, accompanied by the man she now knew must be Holtz. He was the one she paid the most intention to; his interest in Connor was personal and that made him several times more dangerous than the others.

He didn't _look_ insane. He looked remarkably normal, especially for a man who had suddenly found himself in a time two centuries after his own. Then, as his eyes fell on Connor, Buffy felt a chill run up and down her spine. There was passion blazing there, all the more frightening for its calm and coldness.

Instinctively, Buffy's arms tightened around Connor, grateful for the charm Tara had put on him to keep him asleep. What Angel and Darla had done to this man was unforgivable – Angel had admitted that himself. She remembered her own state of mind in those terrible months after Angelus had returned and realised she understood Holtz more than she wanted to do.

But she wasn't going to let that change anything. His grievances might be justified, but he still wasn't getting Connor.

Three parties arrived. From what Spike had learned, all they needed now was the vampires.

If anyone ever needed vampires…

Except for her of course, who seemed to have developed a habit of falling for them.

"Let's get this started," Holtz said abruptly, and the others around the table nodded. "We don't have all night."

"We're just waiting on the last set of bidders," Spike replied smoothly.

"I want to check the merchandise," Lilah Morgan added.

Buffy channelled every bit of the belated, unlamented and dusted Harmony Kendall as she possibly could. "Nobody touches my cutie baby until Spikey has my money," she insisted.

"They're gonna want to be sure it's the right kid," Spike pointed out, sounding exactly as exasperated as she had heard him when he really was with Harmony.

She pouted prettily, mentally wondering if Spike had got a better bargain now he had her instead of mad Drusilla or stupid Harmony. Now he had Buffy, who could be both insane and idiotic with relative ease. The man was a masochist.

"I suppose they can _look_," she whined. "But no touching." She didn't dare let anyone touch Connor. If she did, Angel was going to come charging out and blow the whole thing. And possibly get them all killed in the bargain, Connor included.

They did look, in as great a detail as they could manage with Spike glowering at everyone, his face distorted into the visage of the demon within him. Gavin, Lilah and the still nameless demon remained unfazed by this change in his appearance. Hotlz looked disgusted, while Lombardi got that particular expression on his face that Buffy knew from experience meant his subconscious was rationalising the whole issue away so he didn't have to face the truth.

The two vampires arrived as this inspection concluded, dressed in monk's cowls and, Buffy noted, very solid and practical boots that appeared from under the rough hems.

They got worshipful looks on their faces when they saw Connor and would probably have started bowing or chanting or something equally stupid if Spike hadn't frozen them with a derisive glare.

He rubbed his hands, looking just a little too gleeful about the whole situation. "Please, lady and gentlemen, take your seats and we'll let the bidding begin."

Buffy swallowed, hoping no-one noticed. This was the point where the plan was either going to succeed or fall totally to pieces.

She turned away from the group, waving a hand in the direction of where Fred and Gunn were supposed to be hiding.

"What…?" Gavin demanded.

Buffy twisted back to face him. "What?" she repeated. "I don't want you distracted when you should be thinking about my money."

"What are you doing?" the taller of the two vampires demanded.

She gave him her best who-made-you-so-stupid look. "Getting someone to hold the baby. You bid and whoever wins gets him on the way out at the end." She started walking towards the crates. "After I get my money, of course."

She heard someone take a step in her direction, but she didn't dare stop. As it was, it took all her self-control not to show surprise when it was Xander who came out to met her, shambling across the dirty concrete and keeping his head down.

"New minion?" she hissed as they met.

"Lawyers know Fred," Xander whispered back. "I'll give him to her. Stall them as long as you can." He took Connor, holding him awkwardly but safely. "Angel's getting ansty, Buff. He's gonna break soon."

"Okay." Buffy nodded. She turned and walked to the table without looking back, hoping desperately that this was going to work.

The demon was looking disturbed – or Buffy thought he was. It was kind of hard to tell in that face. "I want to see the baby throughout. Get your minion to stay in view."

"Ah…" Buffy wasn't sure how to get around that one. Under the circumstances, it was a reasonable request.

Spike growled. "Our auction, our rules. If you win, you get the kid." He slammed his palms down on the table, making it rock precariously. "We're starting at twenty thousand. Who bids?"

"The agreed beginning price was five," the bland-looking mobster protested.

_Typical,_ Buffy thought. _Trust Harmony to undervalue the worth of her prize._

She saw the hesitation in Spike, but she was hoping no-one else would notice. They didn't know him like she did.

"The rules have changed," he answered, recovering smoothly. "Who bids twenty?"

There was a moment's silence, then Lilah Morgan raised her hand. "Twenty," she agreed.

"Twenty-five," Lombardi responded quietly.

"Thirty," Lilah retorted.

"Fifty," Holtz snapped.

Buffy felt her shoulders tingle as he spoke. Angel was closer than he had been before. Xander was right, he wasn't going to be able to wait much longer.

"Fifty-one." Lombardi.

Gavin and Lilah exchanged glances. "Fifty-five," Gavin said, but he didn't sound overly enthusiastic about it.

"One hundred." Clearly, this auction was something Holtz had no intention of losing, although Buffy was sure she saw the demon blanch at the suddenly jump in the bid value. Harmony wouldn't have had a clue what to do with five thousand dollars, let alone one hundred.

The vampires had pushed the cowls back from their faces and they were scowling.

Spike, on the other hand, was looking positively orgasmic – and Buffy knew what that looked like these days. "One hundred thousand dollars," he repeated blissfully. His gaze sharpened. "Any further bids?"

Buffy wished she could go over and kick him, remind him that this was a trick, not the real thing.

The cultists frowned again. "This is a fraud," the shorter one announced suddenly. He stood up, the chair legs screeching on the concrete as he pushed it back. He pointed a finger a Buffy. "She's supposed to be a vampire. She's not a vampire."

Well, looked like the gig was up at last. Buffy hoped Gunn and Fred were well on their way back to Revello Drive.

She twitched her arm, feeling the stake slide down to settle safely and comfortably in her palm. "Half right," she said cheerfully. "I'm not a vampire." She smiled, the smile that, if they had been local, the vampires would have known meant there was going to be a lot of dust in their immediate future. "I'm the Vampire Slayer."

The stake whistled through the air with speed and precision, finding his heart through the rough cloth, and he exploded into ash and powder.

"There's only two of you," Lilah hissed, her face furious. "And a minion with a baby. You're throwing away a fortune over what?"

"Sacred duty," Buffy retorted with another smile. "And I don't like people selling babies. It's tacky."

"The woman is right," Holtz pointed out coldly. "Two of you and more of us." He lifted his head. "More than you think. Justine! Robert!"

"Robert couldn't make it. And Justine's gone; abandoned you." Angel spoke softly, his voice echoing through the warehouse regardless. "They send their regrets."

"Angelus." Holtz's voice was still low, but it was no longer cold. For the first time, Buffy could hear the hatred. And the insanity.

Angel nodded in recognition. "Holtz." Now, he was the one with the calm, cold voice. "I will give you apologies you won't accept, Holtz. But I _will not_ give you my son."

The second vampire, still covered in a layer of the dust that had been his companion, was staring at Buffy, his eyes wide and frightened.

"You're the Slayer."

"Good point," Gavin Park commented. "Why are you helping a vampire?" He gaze shifted to Spike. "And why are you helping the Slayer?"

Buffy shrugged. She pointed at Angel. "He's my ex." She pointed at Spike. "And he's my current. Can't help it. I've got a thing for vampires." She smiled at the lawyer. "Reformed ones, anyway."

"Hey," Spike protested, unable to decide if he's just been complimented or insulted.

"Vampires can't reform," Holtz said flatly.

Despite her recent experimentation with personal growth, the conversation was beginning to make Buffy uncomfortable. "Whatever," she shrugged dismissively. She looked around at the erstwhile-bidders. "Are you guys just gonna leave, or are we going to have to fight?"

Frank Lombardi was looking distinctively green around the gills. And for once in Sunnydale, the expression was figurative instead literal, a fact that Buffy found creepy instead of comforting like it should be.

All the same, she found kind of sorry for him. He was in way over his head and he seemed to be slowly realising that. "Go," she suggested gently. "Just go and don't ever come back."

"What _are_ you?" he managed at last, his gaze shifting between the stake she was still holding and the place where the dusted vampire had last been.

Buffy shrugged, not having an answer she was happy with. "Just a girl," she said finally. "Are you leaving or not?"

He looked around again and nodded. "Leaving," he agreed.

"Leave the money," Spike interjected suddenly.

Lombardi was staring at him in disbelief. "What?" he demanded.

"Leave the money," Spike repeated, shifting into game face to reinforce his point.

"What?" It was Buffy this time.

Spike turned his head to grin at her, all yellow eyes and fangs, and somehow still Spike who loved her. "Think of it as the Bit's college fund," he suggested.

Buffy smiled slowly. "Leave the money," she agreed.

For a moment, Lombardi looked like he was going to argue. Another look at Spike was enough to change his mind. He spoke softly to his bodyguard and the two men walked away from the table, leaving a black briefcase behind.

They walked nervously past Angel, who was unable to prevent the demon from rising as they went by. These two might, in this particular case, be the lesser evil, but they had still wanted to take his son from him.

This close up encounter with a vampire was enough to send the pair scuttling between the lines of crates, happy to be on their way out.

"And stay out of my town," Buffy yelled after them, feeling totally stupid as she said it, but hoping they'd pay attention. There was no reply, just the sound of swift feet on the concrete.

And then all hell broke lose.

NEXT