TITLE: Anchor (Part 16/16)
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.)
Buffy swiped at Spike with her free hand, but he just grinned and backed out of range. As soon as she was occupied again, he went right back to what he was doing.
"Buffy, are you all right?"
Even with the bad phone connection – stupid in Buffy's opinion when you can talk to Australia fine, but Sunnydale to LA is a problem – she could hear the concern in Angel's voice.
"I'm fine," she agreed quickly. "It's just Spike."
"What's he doing?" Truce or no truce, Angel's voice was tight.
Buffy sighed, glaring at the blond vampire, who just gave her a cheeky grin.
"He's painting my toenails black. He saw I was at the mercy of the telephone and attacked."
"I'm evil, remember?" Spike pointed out without looking up again.
"Whatever," Buffy muttered.
"Buffy?"
"Everything's fine, Angel," she repeated, and made a point of changing the subject to the one thing she knew would always distract him. "How's my favourite miracle baby?"
That was enough. Angel was off. For someone whom she remembered as the silent and mysterious type, he sure could talk when Connor was the subject.
Buffy smiled, remembering his cute baby's smile in the latest lot of photos Cordy had sent. They were staying in touch now, the LA group and the Sunnydale crew, in a way they never had before. Envelopes of photos arrived about once a week. Once Angel had been convinced to buy a camera, he couldn't stop using it. There were pictures of Connor all around the Summers' house – Connor smiling, Connor crying, Connor in the bath and playing on a blanket in the sun with Cordy and Fred. Occasionally, Angel himself appeared in a shot, or Wesley, Gunn or one of the girls. But mostly they were Connor.
Spike laughed himself sick over what he described as 'the poof's baby worship', but Buffy had noticed some of the pictures disappearing and most mysteriously reappearing again in Spike's crypt. She hadn't commented yet. It was so useful to have something in the background to use for blackmail if it was ever needed.
Finally, Buffy and Angel seemed to be becoming friends, and like so many things, it was all thanks to Connor.
"He's got a tooth, Buffy! The cutest little baby tooth. He was so miserable when it was coming through, but he's happy now. I took some pictures."
Unable to help herself, Buffy laughed. "You don't say?" she asked him ironically, and was a little surprised when he laughed back at her.
"So I'm keeping the local Walgreens in business," he conceded. "Someone has to. Just a sec – Cordy's back."
Buffy heard voices in the background, then Cordelia came on the line. "Hey, Buffy. He's doing the doting daddy thing again. You'll have to wait until he's coherent. How's everything with you. Did you get the college thing sorted?"
"Yep." Buffy leaned comfortably back in her chair while Spike started on her other foot. "I'm all re-enrolled and college girly again. We've got the house and the bad debts paid off and Giles is helping me invest our ill-gotten gains. Willow's doing the hacker thing so it all looks legit." She sighed. "It's such a huge relief to know there'll be no worry about Dawn going to college now. That was worrying me far more than getting back in myself."
"But no more thinking about sucky jobs," Cordelia said firmly.
"Sucky jobs are a bye-bye," Buffy agreed happily. "I never got as far as applying and now I'm so glad I don't have to. Ever." She grinned and chuckled. "You are _never_ going to guess what Giles did."
She heard Cordelia snort in disgust. "So just tell me already."
Buffy laughed again. "He bullied the Watchers Council into _paying_ me. I'm gainfully employed. In British pounds even, which Giles assures me is a good thing."
Cordelia began to laugh, loudly and heartily. "Oh, just _wait_ until I tell Wes. He is going to _love_ that." There was a pause. "Huh? Oh, Buffy, Angel wants to know what I'm laughing about. Why don't you tell him?"
The phone was handed over again, and Buffy had to retell the story. Unlike Cordy, Angel didn't laugh, just said sincerely, "Good on you, Buffy. You deserve it."
She chuckled. "Well, _we_ know that, but Giles had to work pretty hard to convince the Council." While part of her was so proud of being financially appreciated for what she did every night, part of her was embarrassed too. It was her duty, her Calling, and they were paying her to do it, which sometimes felt like it cheapened it. But not having all those money worries over her head was so wonderful she could put up with a little embarrassment. All the same, she was quick to change the subject. "So, are you all going to make it for the wedding?"
" No question," Angel agreed. "It would take an apocalypse to stop us."
"Don't _say_ that," Buffy protested instinctively. "You realise you've just jinxed it."
"What? Buffy don't be silly. Say hello to Connor instead. He wants to talk to Aunty Buffy."
Delighted, she forgot all about weddings and apocalypses. "Connor? How's my boy?"
Angel's voice faded a little as held Connor up to the phone. "Say hello, to Aunty Buffy, _ahmic_."
There was a long silence, and finally, a happy gurgle that could only come from one person.
"Connor!" Buffy crowed in delight. "How's my boy?" Spike screwed the cap on the nail polish bottle and pulled a disgusted face, but Buffy didn't care. "How are you, darling?" she cooed and was delighted to be answered with another baby gurgle.
Before long, Spike couldn't stand it any more and took the phone from Buffy. "Peaches, get the kid to stop it. Her brains are starting to dribble out her ears, and it isn't a pretty sight, I tell you."
Buffy snatched the phone back. "Connor, don't you listen to him. Uncle Spike's just grumpy cause I love you more than him.
She was both amused and mortified when Angel answered. "Thank you, Buffy. I didn't know you cared."
"I think I liked you better without the sense of humour," she grumbled.
Now, he laughed. "Thank you again." A moment later, he relented. "We'll see you at the wedding, Buffy.
"Yeah," she agreed. "See you then. Bye, Angel."
She hung up the phone and finally risked checking out what Spike had done to her toes. The damage was relatively minor. Her nails were all painted black, with a delicate little white cross on each big toe.
"You like living dangerously, don't you?"
Spike raised his brows, the scar above his eye quirking sardonically. "A guy's gotta do something when he's dead."
Buffy wiggled her newly-painted toes at him and laughed. A laugh that soon turned into a jaw-splitting yawn. "Ooh, I'm tired. I think it's bedtime for Buffy?"
"Want me to stay?" Spike asked simply.
The offer was very tempting, and she almost said yes. But in the end she shook her head. "I really am tired and I've got this Parents' Day thing at Dawn's school tomorrow. I need to get some sleep." She flashed him a wicked grin. "And I know I wouldn't if you stayed."
His answering grin was closer to a leer. "Too right," he agreed.
Spike stood, pocketing the bottles of nail polish – an action Buffy pretended not to see, considering they had been hers in the first place – and stood up. He kissed her; deep and passionate and surprisingly gentle for a vampire and a vampire slayer.
As she surfaced, gasping for air, he gave her a wicked look. "Sure you don't want me to stay?"
Buffy pushed him towards the door. "Sure," she insisted with only a slight catch in her voice. "Get out of here."
He bent his head, dropping a light, barely-there kiss on her nose. "See you tomorrow then, luv."
"See you tomorrow," she agreed.
After making certain the door was locked behind him, Buffy walked slowly up the stairs to bed, well aware she had a smile on her face. Crazy as it seemed, their tentative experiment with friendship was working. She didn't think they were going to be lovers forever – fantastic though that was right now – but they were friends and likely to stay that way.
It was good.
As she opened her bedroom door, she remembered something Spike has once told her he'd said, back when he and Drusilla had first come to Sunnydale.
_A Slayer with family and friends. That sure as hell wasn't in the brochure._
She chuckled softly, careful not to wake Dawn or Willow.
_Oh, yeah. Go me!_
After the knock, nothing happened for a while.
Two men stood on opposite sides of the door; one gathering the courage to open it, the other the courage to stay until it was opened.
Finally, Daniel Hotlz opened the door and welcomed his visitor without ever actually inviting him in. Rupert Giles nodded in understanding and stepped over the threshold.
Lilah Morgan, ice cold bitch queen of the universe, had to work to suppress a shiver.
The email that had just arrived from Linwood was _not_ the kind of thing she wanted to receive. And, she noted, it had been carbon copied to Gavin Park. Oh, joy.
She had studiously ignored him since that god-awful morning, just as he had her, but it looked like their time was up.
Much as she had tried to repress it – and Lilah was very good at repressing – she could still remember every moment. Waking up naked was bad enough. She _never_ slept naked; it made you too vulnerable. But waking up naked in a luxury hotel suite next to an equally naked Gavin Park, and with no memory of the night before – but a lot of circumstantial evidence – that was the stuff of nightmares. Really serious, kill you in your sleep, nightmares.
The empty case on the table that should have been full of crisp, large denomination bills from the Wolfram and Hart vault was worse than a nightmare. It was a potential death sentence.
They'd survived six weeks, but time, it appeared, was finally up.
Lilah read the email one more time, just in case it had changed, but of course it hadn't.
_My office. Now. The Senior Partners want answers._
Lilah stood, unnecessarily adjusted her immaculate suit, and went out into the corridor. Of course, Gavin had to come out of his own office at exactly the same moment. Together, they walked down the corridor in absolute silence.
Linwood was sitting at his desk, a single sheet of white paper on the polished surface in front of him. He got straight to the point, turning the page around so that they could both read it.
Please, explain this."
Lilah felt ice pooling at the base of her spine as she read the stark black text of the title. Well, at least they now knew what had happened to the Wolfram and Hart money. And if she ever found out who did this, she was going to kill them slowly and painfully.
If she wasn't dead first.
Beside her, Gavin gave a funny little gasp and fainted.
Lilah read the words again and considered doing the same.
_The Joyce Summers Memorial Scholarship Fund. Established and Endowed by Lilah Morgan and Gavin Park._
She looked up at Linwood, whose face remained coolly impassive, and swallowed, totally without a ready explanation for once.
END