All I Need...

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Part 34

It had been just as easy as she’d expected, Fran thought with a smug grin as she crept from the restroom in the rear of the Council’s private plane.

Step one: Announce to the very distracted and oddly skittish Giles that she was, in fact, going to Essex to learn all about her ‘new powers’.

Step two: Insert her need for Spike and Xander’s address ‘I’ve come across some documents that may help them, Giles… I don’t particularly care to keep that information to myself; do you? But it would be best to send them the copies via FedEx. Never know who might intercept a fax, right?’.

Step three: Contact Dawn in Italy and convince her to stop off in London before her scheduled visit to Los Angeles.

Step four: Slip into the ‘Rare Documents’ vault with the key she’d ‘borrowed’ from Giles’s desk and do a little private research, and wouldn’t the Chief Watcher be bloody well pissed if he ever found out?

Step five: Carefully copy the information she’d found there before replacing the originals just as carefully and returning the key during yet another bout of stammering lens-cleaning on Giles’s part, and

Step six—easily the simplest of them all: Pack her things, bid Giles farewell and slip off in a cab, allegedly to catch a train but in actuality to Heathrow.

From there, it had taken no effort at all to find her way to the tarmac where the Council’s jet was waiting for Dawn and she’d slipped aboard.

Granted, enduring take-off and a good hour and a half in the cramped confines of the aft loo hadn’t been terribly pleasant, but Fran had always been willing to do whatever was necessary, hadn’t she?

Even when what had been necessary was for her to leave her home, her family, her few close friends, and fly halfway ‘round the world because some bloke in far too much tweed said she’d been Called, she’d done it.

Even when she’d been asked to suspend everything she’d ever believed about the world around her and accept that there were demons, werewolves, witches, and—most importantly, considering her Slayerness—vampires, she’d managed it with the appearance of grace, although it had taken her a good few months to believe the Watchers weren’t just having her on.

So, yes. She was definitely a ‘do what I have to do and worry about it later’ sort of girl.

Of course, Giles would most likely be extremely unhappy with her when he discovered the truth of her whereabouts, but there wasn’t really an awful lot he’d be able to do from London, was there?

She was a Slayer, Fran told herself again, pushing the worry about Giles’s anger away. And sometimes a Slayer had to act on instinct.

Well, her instincts were telling her that she needed to be in Los Angeles.

Her instincts and the few words she’d been able to translate from the books she’d found, anyway.

She fully expected that the vampire and his Primal would be shocked to see her. She also expected that Dawn would be rather greatly surprised to see her emerge from the restroom.

Unfortunately, she was due for a bit of a shock herself when she finally opened the door and found the older girl nearly bouncing just outside it.

“It’s about time, Fran!” Dawn squeaked. “I’m about to explode, here!” And with that, Dawn Summers—former mystical key and current sister to THE Slayer—yanked the young woman out through the door and shut herself inside, nearly tripping over the duffle bag wedged beside the small sink.

* * * * *

“You are foolish and lacking in thought and intellect,” the blue haired woman said stonily, standing as stiffly as she always did. “The… human… is of less importance than even my pet half-breed. Let it live or die on the whim of whatever creature might choose to tame it.”

‘Oh, yeah, she’s real helpful, you big girl!’ Angelus grumbled silently. ‘Let’s ask Illyria what she’s come up with,’ he mimicked insultingly, ‘And we see just what that is, don’t we, soulboy? A big fucking load of nothing!’

Angel sighed. He’d been doing that a lot more often than usual, he noticed, and somehow he had a feeling that trend wasn’t going to end until they had a solution to the whole Xander Harris problem.

“If you don’t want to help, just say so. Fred would have helped,” he directed back at the woman.

Illyria’s oddly expressionless face remained so as she cocked her head mechanically. “Yes. This shell would have been pleasured to assist in your efforts. It held affection for my pet. I, however, do not, beyond finding him amusing-- and he has ceased to be so since the human arrived here. I believe the removal of that pathetic being will return my pet to his former self and that is why I do not find myself inclined to participate in your ridiculous attempts to assimilate it.”

And how did he explain to the woman-like creature that losing Harris wouldn’t do anything but cause them all to lose Spike for good?

‘Fuck, let me do it, shit for brains!’ the demon demanded. ‘Talking about Fred isn’t gonna get it done. Hell, Illyria’s still fighting the parts of Fred that are left inside her ‘shell’, and you think she’s gonna help us because you’re appealing to something she’s afraid of? Besides, she seems to think we’re the fucking Borg or something. ‘Assimilate it’. Right.’

And maybe Angelus had a point, Angel told himself. ‘Fine,’ he sighed, ‘but I’m not setting you free, got it? Just… loosening the leash enough for you to talk outside of my head.’

‘Whatever, soulboy… let’s just get it done. Spike and Xander seem to be okay for now, but you know as well as I do that that could change at any minute. Especially if they keep leaving the fucking building!’

That was true enough, too, Angel admitted. Good old ‘demon-magnet Harris’ was even more appealing to certain types now that he had that Primal spirit inside him along with the Morah blood. Hell, he wasn’t even sure a Claiming would be enough to ward of other demons anymore. It was probably going to have to be a full Mating for his Childe and Harris, and that made it even more imperative that they get Illyria’s help; at least with the research portion of things, if not more.

The God within Fred’s form had been around forever, more or less. If it wanted to, it could help them even more than Wes could have, had he still been alive.

Angel nodded slowly and with one more deep, rough sigh he relaxed the chains holding his demon in that small corner of his mind.

* * * * *

Spike was growling, even as they returned to the Wolfram and Hart building, and the fact that his Xander was laughing at the sound didn’t help matters any. “ ‘s not funny,” he grunted, wiping one glob of thick, gelatinous goo from his arm with a disgusted snarl. “Right there beside me, holdin’ my bloody hand and that soddin’ Kithnesten thought ya’d go off with it? An’ slimed me for tellin’ it no!”

“What can I say, baby,” Xander said smugly, “It’s not like you didn’t know I’m a nummy treat, right?”

And that only made him growl louder as he shoved his bloke into the elevator and pressed him hard against the back wall. “You’re still a bloody demon magnet, git. But you’re my demon magnet an’ th’ rest need ta just stay th’ bloody fuck away from ya!”

Xander sighed softly, well aware of the fact that if he’d just scar already, the scent of his mate would be locked into his skin and there wouldn’t be any more incidents like the one earlier. And it was his own fault, although he’d never planned on being made immortal by having that Morah bleed out into him.

He nodded, responding to Spike’s words, then slammed his lips hard against his vampire’s cooler ones. “We’ll figure it out, baby… promise. And soon! I… shit, Spike, I want them all to know I’m taken too, don’t I?” he demanded after pulling a scant inch away from the too-tempting lips.

And there wasn’t much Spike could say to that. Of course his bloke wanted to be open about being wrapped up in him. He knew his Xan’s heart, after all. And yet there was a small part of him—mostly the demon—that was convinced Xander could have managed it somehow.

Bloody hell, he hated his demon sometimes. “Y-yah… right, then. Just need ta shag ya more, I’m guessin’. Make sure ya never smell of anythin’ but me… an’ we need ta never leave th’ bloody buildin’, either.”

It was a serious question regarding which of them was dragging the other when the elevator finally stopped. They somehow made it down the hallway, though, and just about literally fell through the door to Spike’s rooms.

Xander managed to kick the door closed as they met the floor, and it was a good thing, as they didn’t make it any further right at first.

They were too caught up in tearing the clothes from each others’ bodies and greeting bared flesh with lips and hands, fingers and tongues, to worry about walking—or crawling—to their bed.

Then again, it wasn’t the first time; nor would it be the last.

* * * * *

“Harder,” Spike snarled, fingers digging deep into tanned skin as his love rode him. “Faster,” he demanded, the demon wanting nothing more than to cum and cum deep, leave his scent in his Primal’s body, then leave it again on his skin… and there’d be no showering after; especially not if they were going to be leaving their rooms. Some of the other employees had been giving his bloke the eye, too, he was sure, and… best they know by scent as well as words that Xander was his.

Xander couldn’t help the sly smirk that crossed his lips at the commands, although he somehow managed to hold in the deeply amused chuckle as he obeyed.

His body moved harder, faster, just as ordered, and his hands rested, splayed, on Spike’s chest, fingers open to clutch and knead as much pale flesh as was possible, nails scraping erratically over the tight nubs of his vampire’s nipples. “Like this, baby?” he growled, green-tinged eyes meeting wide gold, “Want it like this? Want me to scream for you? I will, Spike… I’ll scream loud enough that even the sound-proofing wards Deadboy put around your rooms won’t hold… everyone in a mile radius will hear me shouting your name… hollering that nobody but Spike can make me feel this way, make me feel so whole…” He groaned softly, then louder as he lifted himself and slammed back down with a twist of his hips. “Is that… what… you w-want, b-baby…?”

The vampire howled, his body arching, bowed up against the mattress as one nail slid down his chest, drawing blood in a fiery line of shivering pleasure. “YES!” he nearly pleaded, and when his bloke shifted again, doing something he’d never even imagined with his hips, he felt himself tensing more than ever before and sitting up; found his jagged teeth buried deep in Xander’s throat even as the blunt, human teeth pierced his own flesh, and somehow…

Somehow, he had no doubt that at the very least, everyone in the building could hear their completion, even if he didn’t know how it could have happened with the wards.

* * * * *

It had taken most of the cab ride from the airport for Fran to understand that Dawn had not only been expecting her to stow away on the plane but had no intention of turning her in to Giles for it.

In fact, if the slightly older young woman was to be believed, she’d expected Fran because the Powers had told her she’d be there.

Of course, Fran wasn’t entirely sure she bought that herself. After all, what difference did it make to the Powers if one of the many, many Slayers in Training decided to skip out? And why would they care, especially since she’d run away in order to help a vampire and a… whatever Xander was now?

When she’d asked Dawn exactly that, however, the girl had simply laughed, rolled her eyes, then snorted once before responding.

“You really think the PTBs don’t have some kind of stake in what happens to one of the original Scoobies and the only vampire with a soul who chose to have one? Puh-leeze.” Dawn said with a very ‘I’m older and wiser’ glance. “Besides, they’re the ones who told me to listen when you asked me to visit on the way to L.A.”

And for the first time, Fran felt entirely good about what she’d sneaked off to do.

It might make Giles angry when he found out, but odds were, she wouldn’t care by then.

The dead didn’t care about much, she figured, and… she was a Slayer. She’d been born with a limited shelf-life, after all.

If she chose to use it to help the two blokes who’d been friends to her even when they’d had no reason—and when most other people, even the other SITs, had treated her like something they tolerated but were afraid of—then that was her right. Her life. Her choice.

She’d never expected to live forever, anyway. Not even before she’s been Called.

Nothing in her expression reflected those thoughts, of course, because if nothing else, Fran was a master of revealing nothing unless she chose to. And in this case, she chose not.

“”I’ll be counting on you to explain to Giles that I was doing as the Powers wished, then,” she finally said with a cheeky grin. “You know… when he discovers I’ve gone somewhere other than Essex.”

Her smile became even more smug and self-satisfied at the deep groan Dawn released.

She didn’t mention that it was going to be Dawn’s job due to the simple fact that Fran expected to be dead by the time Giles found out. She hadn’t really processed that part until just before they’d landed, after all. Still, nobody lived forever, and she figured it was better to go out helping her friends than by falling in love with Death as so many of her sister Slayers had done.

Yes, far better.

She wouldn’t slip up while facing some halfwit demon, just because she’d grown weary of fighting the entropy that surrounded her… she wouldn’t die to no purpose, to no reason other than her own ennui.

And the world would keep turning once she was gone.

Her parents would be fine. She was already unknown to them; she hadn’t spoken to them in close to three years. News of her death would sadden them, granted… until they got the next invitation to whatever event was happening at the Sydney Opera House.

Her brother would likely grieve for a good few months, of course, although he’d probably do it in whatever bar was likely to get him the greatest number of sympathy-shags… once he finally heard, in any case.

Hell, of her family, her brother was the one who would miss her most and light a candle for her on her birthday every year. He gave a good show of being uncaring, but it was more like… he always expected things to remain the same behind him, no matter how much they changed in front of him, and… she’d write him a note, she figured. Spike and Xander would find some way of getting it to him.

As for the rest of the people she loved, well…

Giles would find another protégé, after all, and maybe this time from amongst the slowly increasing group of fledgling Watchers, and…

“It’ll be fine, Dawn,” Fran added softly. “I’m a Slayer, after all. Not a Watcher. Giles knows better than to become too… attached. He probably doesn’t even miss me.”

Dawn’s eyes rolled once again and she echoed her earlier snort almost perfectly. As though she hadn’t heard the naked want in Giles’s voice when he’d spoken to—and of, in a private moment—Fran.

“Right… he’ll only fit one of the rooms at the Watcher House out as a dungeon and keep you there until you see the error of your ways… PTBs or not.” She chuckled. “Then again, that’ll be fun to see, so I guess I’m in. In on whatever it is you’re really up to, I mean. Because I gotta tell you, Fran… so not buying the whole ‘I’m running away to L.A. to teach Giles a lesson about ordering me around’ thing.”

And that was honestly that last thing Fran had been expecting to hear from Dawn so she found herself blinking at the other brunette. “I… you… but that’s not what I…” She swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve found some way around Xander’s Morah blood, right?” Dawn said smugly, congratulating herself as the stunned look in Fran’s eyes deepened. “Well, whatever it is, I’m in. I… look. I love Xander. He’s like… the older brother I never had, okay? And I still need to kill him for letting me think he was dead for like… six months, but that’s a whole other thing and he will be explaining himself; trust me on that! He has no resistance to the pout-of-doom.” She demonstrated.

“And Spike!” Dawn blushed slightly. “I remember sitting in his crypt back in Sunnydale. I… used to go there after school, back when he was chipped. Uh, you know… before the soul. And he was so…” she sighed happily, “So Spike! I mean, how could I not have fallen just a little bit in love with him? It’s not like he was a regular vampire, right?”

Fran laughed and shook her head, not entirely sure of how he could have been anything but a ‘regular vampire’ when he’d had a chip and no soul but willing to believe it of Spike. After all, any other vamp who’d just… been souled without preparation… would have likely spent decades moaning and crying, and that was not Spike.

“So what did you do with the bloke after classes, then?” she asked, waggling a brow playfully. “Can’t say as I blame you, whatever it was. He’s a looker, alright…”

“Ewww… okay, just ewww. Um, and ewww again, Fran! I was like… fifteen!” Dawn announced, making small gagging noises in her throat. Then she blinked and looked at the younger girl. “And… God, I hate to say this, but when I was fifteen I wasn’t… well, I have a feeling that you at fifteen is a totally different thing. You… you’re an old soul, Fran. And even worse… when I was fifteen? I was really like… one or two. You know, with the whole… ‘created from a blob of energy’ thing.”

Fran shrugged. She’d known Dawn’s history ever since she’d been taken to London, after all, and as far as she was concerned it didn’t matter a bit. The younger Summers sister remembered growing up. Buffy remembered Dawn growing up. Hell, everyone who’d been there remembered it, and…

It was memories that shaped a person, that made them what they were.

Dawn remembered growing up, remembered her life. And if she’d also been a bloody KEY, then that was fine. It was like… spending much of your life believing you were white and then finding out at fifteen or sixteen that you were part black.

It didn’t change the person who existed inside your skin; it didn’t change your appearance. It just changed your perception of who you could be; the possibilities became broader.

Fran said as much and found herself laughing as Dawn detailed the stories the blond vampire had told her back then… and almost peed herself laughing even harder when she heard about the story Buffy had interrupted and Spike’s ‘nice save’ of an ending.

Both girls looked up as their taxi slowed and they exchanged determined looks.

Nobody was going to thwart them in their goals—for Dawn, to spend time with Spike and Xander and help Fran with her plot… and for Fran, to enact the rituals she’d uncovered, which only she could do, and… probably die.

Both of them found their brows furrowing in matching curiosity and concern, however, when they entered the building and heard twin howls reverberating through the lobby, seemingly from nowhere. It was only the annoyed but unworried sighs the desk guards were letting out that had them convinced there wasn’t anything bad in the offing.

“Bossman needs to up the strength on those wards,” one said to the other as the girls approached.

The other guard shook his head and reached for the visitors list. “He’s already got an entire team on it. Hell help us all.”

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(A/N: Many thanks to: TheShadowCat, chibifae, Littlest Coyote (long time no see, LC... oh, and I'm working on more of the Getting To Know You series as we speak. LOL), AKS and nulinka (just because you asked SO nice. *winks*) for the reviews! As always, appreciated and adored, guys! *hugs for all*)