Who is Who ((COMPLETED))

Title: Who is Who, Chapter 4
Author: MadRog
Email: madrog@ev1.net
Rating: PG-13
Category: Spike-Buffy
Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, it's all owned by Joss Wheldon and Mutant Enemy. Yada, Yada
Sry/Sry/Spoilers: Set after the end of Season 6.
Feedback: R & R please!

Chapter 4, Changes
This morning could be summed up in one sentence: Slayer skills did not work on computers. Now Buffy was very frustrated and even more suspicious of what Dawn was doing on her computer. Hiding was never a good sign. That, at least, her Slayer senses did know. Everything that Buffy had tried on the computer was met by password requirements or security precautions.

Thoroughly frustrated Buffy thought she had a password for this machine, all right, but sincerely hoped Dawn had not used such language. Time to call in the brain power – Willow.

She was reluctant to bother her friend with what could possibly not even amount to a problem in the end. Hopefully, Dawn was just hiding a new boyfriend. Who could blame the teenager for not wanting to introduce some unsuspecting guy to their unusual, extended family? Not like Dawn could invite him to play poker with Clem at the crypt next Saturday night. On the other hand, a puzzle might help take Willow’s mind off her woes. Making the final decision before she left for work, Buffy called Willow at the lab.

Since this was the first occasion Buffy had asked for her assistance since Xander had talked her back from the dark, Willow was elated to be asked for her help. Not to mention that her curiosity was instantly captured: Dawnie and a secret boyfriend – Wow!

For a change Willow rushed home from the university and upon arriving, she felt lucky to find a note from Dawn letting her know that she was over at her friend Janice’s and not to expect her back for a couple of hours. The challenge of hacking into Dawn’s email was not very hard, but Willow thoroughly enjoyed rediscovering the thrill of such a task.

The pen name, “Carpe Noctorum,” immediately caught her attention since she could not imagine any of Dawn’s high school friends using the Latin form of “Seize the Night.” Of course, this was Sunnydale, and the nights were way more active than the days. After reading the beginning of the first email, she already had her hand on the phone to call Buffy, but something in the tone of the exchange stayed her hand. She read further, finishing the first and then second emails, amazed to find herself fascinated by the contradictions in the vampire revealed through the correspondences. She found herself laughing as she pictured the blueberry from hell, moved by Spike’s insightful and tender comments regarding Tara, and surprising of all, understanding for his feelings of remorse for his actions before he left Sunnydale.

Again, she wavered in calling Buffy. However, her reasons not to call now outweighed reasons to make the call. First, Dawn was obviously thrilled to hear from Spike. Second, he was out of town, wasn’t he? Not coming back. Third, Buffy became very quiet at the mere mention of his name. Only Dawn dared to mention him anymore. Not even Xander made any jabs lately. Her last reason held the most weight. Maybe, just maybe, she had found someone to talk to, discuss her disturbing questions of good and evil, and possibly explain the paradoxes that were keeping her up at night. Maybe Noctorum was very appropriate, after all.

*****

“Pathetic. You have positively pathetic taste in cars,” Spike said to Giles as he slouched in the back of the classic, black cab, annoyingly drumming his fingers on the window.

“No, I certainly do not. All cars have a problem or two over time. Furthermore, I already told you I would pay for this cab.” Stalling, Giles stared out the cab window wondering how to best approach the next subject. “We need to talk anyway before we pick up Anya. We have a slight problem with our agreement.”

The drumming stopped as Spike shifted in his seat to better scowl at Giles. “Watcher, ‘problem’ and ‘agreement’ are NOT two words I want to hear in the same sentence.”

“No, no. I am very satisfied with our agreement so far. You have taken out all the cases provided to date.”

“But?” Spike slowly drew the word out and raised an eye brow adding emphasis.

“Well, the Watchers Council, having found out who my partner is, does not want any of its funds going to a vampire.”

“The Welshers Council, is it now? Do they think I am hunting rogue demons for them out of the goodness of my cold heart?”

Unbeknownst to the pair in the back seat, the cab driver had been listening to the conversation with increasing interest. His eyes had snapped up to the rearview mirror at the mention of the Watcher’s Council, and his pupils changed to vertical slits at the mention of a vampire.

“I am shocked to hear myself say this to you, but, um…I agree with you.” Giles was saying. “They should pay you, but,…you see… they don’t want to pay a vampire. Maybe we can think of…What’s that AWFUL smell?

“Don’t look at me. I was trying to be polite and not accuse you.”

Giles started to search the back seat for the odor’s source until he heard the vamp next to him start growling. He looked up to see Spike’s yellow eyes fixed directly in front on the cab driver’s head. As Giles turned to study the cabby himself, he noticed that the driver’s turban had started to move and a foul smelling smoke emitting from the top.

Having recognized the Priviar Demon, Spike made a lunge for the extra appendage that was unwinding.

Giles, however, made a lunge for the window and fresh air.

“Get you head out of the sodding window and help,” Spike snarled now fully in game face.

“You don’t have to breathe, but I must.” With his eyes starting to tear, Giles tried to secure a hold of what appeared to be a third arm while trying not to inhale. However, the raw sewage smell only got worse.

“It’s a Priviar Demon - not particularly dangerous. Spike tried to explain while he fought. “He has a sodding scent gland on the top of its heads. The more nervous or excited he gets, the more he reeks. Not to mention, a third arm comes in handy in a tussle, like now.”

When Giles finally secured the demon’s flailing appendage, Spike was able to wrap his arms around the demon’s head rest and apply considerable pressure to its neck. Luckily, the demon slowly let off the gas as its vision began to dim. As the cab glided to a halt against a curb, the demon passed out.
Giles took that opportunity let his part of the demon go and jumped out of the car. After a few deep breathes, he asks Spike, “How are we going to get rid of this?”

Feigning shock, the vampire answered, “We? I’m no longer on the payroll. Have fun dumping this pungent git. I’ve touched it for the last time.”

Relieved by the distraction, Giles searched his pocket for his ringing cell phone. “Hello…Yes, Anya, we are going to be a little late. We sort of ran into a Priviar Demon…Yes, the smelly ones…Yes, I told him about the money situation…Oh, quite right. Great idea. Let’s make it a late supper then…What?...Yes, yes. We’ll hurry.” Turning to Spike, “ Bless Anya’s capitalistic instincts. She had a great idea!”

A quarter of an hour later found Giles courteously opening the Watchers main meeting room’s door allowing Spike to shove the semi-conscious demon inside. As Spike held the door closed, looking like he did this every day, Giles casually strolled down the hall to retrieve two hand towels from the powder room Wiping themselves off the best they could, both immensely enjoyed the sound of turmoil from inside the room.

Finally, Spike let a man in a suit step out into the hall. “Take that creature away.”

“No pay, no disposal, mate” Spike quipped back. “The delivery, however, was free of charge as will be all the future ones.”

“What?! We don’t pay a demon to dispose of a demon. It’s unethical!”

“Right then, you must not be ripe enough yet.” Giles again held the door open as Spike unceremoniously propelled the suit back in the room.

The next time the man managed to get out the door, Giles and Spike had to take a step back to avoid the smell. After several gasping breaths, the man managed to choke out, “What’s your terms?”

After later picking up Anya in the newly acquired cab, the trio chose a restaurant with outside seating to enjoy the fresh air.

Giles was debating whether or not it would help to set his jacket on the back of the chair mumbling about the need to invest heavily in air fresheners.

Lifting a finger to check the breeze, Anya made sure she was upwind of them both.

Spike lounged casually. “Maybe I should have asked for higher rates but didn’t want to push my luck seeing how I was standing in the middle of Watcher Central. Gave me the willies. I’ll be having dreams about the smell of that bloke and the council for weeks.”

Glad to have something to think about other than the lingering smell, Giles put on his best Watcher’s face. “Funny that you mention dreams…Last night I had a very realistic one where I was reading a passage of a Watcher’s Journal to a tombstone.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t hit the scotch before bed. Did you know he was a lush?” Spike asked in a stage whisper.

Ignoring the comments completely, Giles continued, addressing himself to Anya. “I recognized the cemetery was the one I found Spike in and the tombstone as the one directly in front of the bench Spike had been sitting. As to the passage I was reading aloud, it was the one I finally found yesterday. Been looking for it since Spike had reminded me of it the night we caught up with the imposters. You know, the one I had assumed was about Angel.”

Spike tried to shrug the whole discussion off. “Watcher, why do you think I care about a stupid poem about Peaches?

However, now Anya was intrigued. “Angel? The one in L.A.? What journal? Are you going to eat that?

Giles pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to Anya. “I think that was one of the points of the dream. I don’t think this writing was about Angel. “

Spike stopped eating and listened to Anya read the passage under discussion. Not only uncomfortable with any discussions concerning the King of Brood, but he had a very bad feeling about where this whole conversation was headed.

Anya gingerly unfolded the paper trying to avoid any residual of the clinging odor and read:
A warrior begins a dark journey and quest
But a defining choice must be made in what way to go next
Through struggles and trials to a loftier station
With guidance will rise above demon predestination
But he alone must make the final decision
Watch over, protect those of light or sink back into perdition.

“Well, it rhymes,” Anya commented as she finished setting the paper on the table and snagged some food off Spike’s plate.

Giles continued, “This morning after I woke up, I did a little research into the name on the tombstone, Elizabeth Winthrope, and her family. She had died in 1895.”

“You didn’t!?” Anya asked Spike, clearly unnerved by the implication.

Sighing, Spike grudgingly answered her. “I didn’t kill him and neither did Angelus. We had left London long before that.” Looking the Watcher in the eyes, “I was creating too much of a stir for us to stay.”

Anya next rounded on Giles, “Why do you think it is Angel?”

Falling back on habit, Giles began to clean his glasses. “That is the point or not the point or…
Whichever. I don’t think it does have to do with that vampire with a soul, but I think it is an entirely different vampire.

As I was saying, I found that Elizabeth had had a son and a daughter. The son died early, but the daughter, Victoria, lived to the age of 72. She in turn had a son, Edward who became a Watcher. No wonder the name rang a bell that night in the cemetery. You see, Edwards odd little poem had fascinated me even before I met Angel. So I just made an assumption. Also, Edward had not been particularly known for second sight but for trying his hand at poetry. I gather it ran in the family. Accordingly, the poem was not classified as a prophecy.”

Spike had become noticeably tense, “Watcher, you go too far.” Anya wondered how he had managed to unclench his jaw enough to speak.

Giles, though, remained calm. “No, I disagree. I think this discussion was a long time in coming. You have avoided it before. If you will recall, I have mentioned before that you might have a higher purpose.”

Anya grabbed the paper back up. “Timeout. You think this is about Spike?”

Giles answered directly to Spike, “You chose to stay in Sunnydale to help. You chose to protect those of the light, Dawn, and in your own way, Buffy. You just returned from a journey to Africa where you made another choice, didn’t you?”

At that, Spike snatched up the paper and was gone.

Anya was now completely puzzled. “Where did he go?”

Anya and Giles found him in the private cemetery standing in front of Elizabeth Winthrope’s grave.
The Watcher went to stand beside to the vampire. “You made sure Angelus left before he was able to kill your family as he did his own and Drusilla’s, didn’t you?” He didn’t really expect a confirmation of any type. Anya had wandered over to the next grave. “Look, this must have been her son, William. Was he suppose to be a Watcher, too, but died too soon?” Gazing at the marker, Anya began to put two and two together. She turned to look at Spike who refused to look that way. “William?”

“You’re both cracked. The prophecy is not about me.”

Taking the fact that he was still standing and breathing as a good sign that he was at last making some head way with the vamp, Giles decided to press his luck. “Two things convince me that Edward was referring to you, not Angel. First, Angel had a built in reason to change his path – his soul. No choice involved. Second, I don’t think the use of the word ‘watch’ was by accident. At least not to that family. I think you may have been destined to be a watcher had you not died. Maybe Angelus knew and was trying to prevent it.” Giles paused to consider his next words. “I was about to say that I think your it is your time to make the final decision, but you already made that choice in Africa, didn’t you?”
Never looking up from the tombstone, Spike replied, “More or less my choice. Now the challenge is learning to live with it.”
TB
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