The Immortal and Spike had somehow made their way to the balcony edge to smoke, leaving the two old Sunnydale friends to chat.
Spike leaned on the wide stone balustrade, and blew a flume of spoke out toward the hills. Anton had his back to the darkened terrain and stared intently at his guest then finally broke the silence, "I wish to acknowledge your service to our household, William Aurelius."
"How's that mate?" He took a long drag of his cigarette and continued to contemplate the dark horizon.
"You were instrumental in saving the woman I love. More than once I believe."
"Oh that…." Spike stubbed the cigarette out in apparent annoyance, but turned to look at his host.
"Indeed, 'that'." The Immortal rounded on Spike, staring into the vampire's eyes as though to attempt to see into his soul. Spike dropped his gaze, shifted his stance and attempted to disguise the discomfort by lighting another cigarette and taking a long draft then blowing it into the distance.
"Did Angelus ever know of my past?"
"Monastery, considerable… desire… stringing us up… that sort of thing… Yeah, I get it mate…"
"Oh, but you really don't William."
"Name's Spike these days mate."
"You are, of course, correct, my apologies 'Spike'…" Anton stared out toward the hills of his property. "I'm tired Spike, I've lived sixteen hundred years, since the crusades. I've seen plagues and wars and so much suffering that human imposed on human it makes the very gods
weep."
"That what you are then? A god? 'Cause gotta say, not all of 'em are worth writin' home about!"
"Indeed Wi..Spike, indeed. And I have no such presumptions. I am the last of Constantine's line"
"The Emperor? Byzantine Emperor? How??"
Spike turned to stare at the now wistful face of his host.
"Ahhh Spike you are truly a scholar of many years, and I see that you have not forgotten your classical training. Indeed, I was the younger son of Constantine. Justinian took the thrown after my father…"
"Cut up the face of his brothers! But we were taught…"
"That he only had one son, indeed. I was his illegitimate offspring and therefore saved from the disfigurement that accompanied the time…" Anton lit up a small cigar and stared out toward the night enshrouded hills.
"God!" Spike stared at Anton attempting to reconcile the man in front of him with the stories of murderous intrigue he had all but memorized from his own study of history at Oxford.
Anton turned and leveled pain filled green eyes at Spike. "I was borne of a servant of Diana herself, my destiny was always on a different track. Justinian was a fine emperor for his time, brutal and cruel… I could not do that… demons are soulless, but rarely *that* cruel to their own…."
Spike stared at his smoking partner, processing memories of the history he'd learned of only at school, one of split noses and sliced tongues, of poisonings and beheadings, one of familial hatred and betrayal… "You were??…"
"Yes, my dear William I was part of that… and you need not comment, vampires are loyal to their family ties, sadly this was not the case with my human relatives…. It was about power."
"Seem to have heard that once of twice before mate…"
"Ah yes… The First… the latter days of Rome were ripe with candidates for that folly."
"So you?"
"Departed for quieter shores, to Africa first. Then to Tibet…"
"But that would have been…"
"Indeed. All silk roads and dried food, but my dear fellow, as you must know…. All precious things come with a price."
"Your soul?"
The Immortal laughed ruefully and, Spike noted, at his own expense. "Indeed, my dear fellow. You are not the only one to struggle for that which was rightfully yours. We are the only two,
by the way…. I do not know you William the Bloody, but I know your qualities, your strengths, and now, through your choice of partner, that you are kindred spirit."
”How's that mate? Seems that my partner has some bits yours doesn't?!"
"Yet he is loyal, brave and loving… A true champion. And more than the Slayer for the fact that he chose the role, rather than was designated it."
"Too right! But what is it to you?"
"You and I are the last in the line William. Angelus perished at the hands of our cruel gods, we have the potential to do him justice. Indeed to maintain balance, but we must close down the establishments that are currently pushing the dark side."
"The Initiative."
"Indeed"
Spike turned to his host, " You have a plan? 'Cause if it involves Xan you can just forget it! The boy owes nothing!"
"Nor do you Wil…Spike… Nor do you. My sources will continue to gather information today and we will call on you tomorrow. I have arranged a recital for tomorrow night… I *do* hope you and your consort can come." Anton smiled, grasped Spike by the hand and kissed him on the
cheek.
Dismissed, Spike wandered inside, collected his consort from Buffy's presence and headed for their rooms.
Spike and Xander slept for the majority of the day, but for one minor incident when 'l' amour' got the best of them. But then Spike had removed his suit and Xander had found skin on skin for the first time in… weeks! What was a man to do?!
Despite their ardor, both managed to stay quiet, indeed it heightened the excitement to do so. Silent scream's and bodies arching toward each other as passion heightened, sheets twisted, buttocks bruised and flesh bitten as the two lovers kept silent.
They emerged late afternoon to enjoy the shadows on the north side of the house and admire the view.
Xander was relaxing back between his partner’s legs on a garden lounge. A warm breeze caressed them both as they took in the rolling hills. Buffy and Anton were ‘out riding’ according to the staff who cheerfully provided the two guests with a fine Cianti and plate of local fruit to welcome in their day.
Xander spied the large pool a story down on the terrace to the right of their balcony. It was still bathed in sunlight, an inviting Aegean blue with sandstone surrounds. There was a lane marker designating an area for laps. Xander brightened. It had been a week at least since any regular exercise.
Spike noticed the direction of his partner’s gaze, pushed him up and slapped him hard on the rear. “Go on then!”
“You sure? God Spike don’t want to…”
“You know me an’ swimmin’ mate. I’ll watch from here, just make sure you look up occasionally yeah?”
Xander all but bounded inside and within minutes was in the water, waved to Spike then proceeded to freestyle up and down the pool, tumble turning with ease at either end.
Spike watched for a while then took up a book of nineteenth century French poetry he had pulled from the well stocked bookshelf in their room. Occasionally looking up he waved to his consort the three times Xander actually looked toward him, and was utterly preoccupied with the text in front of him when a quiet knock on the door interrupted.
Spike answered the door, cream cotton pants slung low on his hips, dress shirt undone, hanging loose, glass in one hand and cigarette perched precariously between pouting lips. Anton grinned and could not help but comment, “A picture like this deserves eternity.”
Mildly annoyed at the interruption Spike was hardly in the mood for compliments, “Yeah well, what d’ ya want ya ponce! Was watchin’ me boy take a paddle…” Anton held his hands up in supplication. Spike relented, “Oh bugger… well... come on in I s’pose.”
Anton stepped inside and proceeded out onto the balcony, “Thank you. I trust you slept well.”
“You come to ask after me health or is there more to it?” Spike noted the slightly tense stance of his host and dropped all pretence of annoyance. “What’s wrong, mate? I figure it takes a bit to spook you.”
Anton’s usual casual demeanor was noticeably absent and his countenance darkened further as he began to speak. “We think we found the headquarters.”
“‘Of?”
“The Initiative.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s why we’re here… in this place. You must know that this is only one of my houses. We had it on fairly good authority that they were somewhere south of Bologna, but this is new. The reports of an underground laboratory are new.”
“How did you know?”
“As I said last night, we have a number of informants. It is confirmed. Military vehicles, individuals in fatigues, recorded discussions of demons and holding pens…”
Spike blanched at the last statement, “How did you…?”
“Watched this afternoon, disposing of some ‘remains’ not ten miles north of here. Far too much dialogue reminiscent of…”
“Das Kampf? Third Reich sellout? Yeah I figured with that lot… Bloody hell” Anton noted Spike’s nervousness.
“I have some idea of what they did to you.”
“No you don’t mate…. Bloody Mengele acolytes… make the Nazi’s look like pussies they would.”
“I should fear for Buffy’s safety.”
“And your own mate… and the rest of us besides.”
“She wishes to go after the captured Slayers and the watcher.”
“Just get her away from here now.”
“Not possible Wi..Spike. She won’t go, she feels compelled.”
“Bloody Hell.”
“Indeed.” Anton threw three photographic prints onto the small patio table. “Here’s the latest from our sources.”
The first two images were of generic men in green, Spike lit up a cigarette and stared at them with passing interest, but as the last photo hit the table, he felt a familiar sense of dread and whispered, “ So it’s true… Captain Cardboard.”
“Indeed. Riley Finn seems to have been tracking Buffy and all her movements.”
………………… 36 hours earlier…………..
“I understand all that but repeat again, for me, why is it you are here!”
“Sir, we were following orders Sir. We have been monitoring the apartments that the Council of Watchers generally frequent for over six months now Sir.” Chambers shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Newly released from police custody, he knew the interrogation he had already undergone was nothing compared to the grilling to come from his own CO.
“And!??”
“And, Sir, well…. The subjects spotted our equipment, Sir. In particular we think they saw the camera. It is my opinion that…”
“I am not interested in your opinion. Who were they and why were you taking photos of individuals with a direct line to the Chief of Police! We are *trying* to keep a low profile! Or did you not notice that on your manifest?” The senior officer shot a vicious glance at the major in charge of the surveillance, then slammed a fist down in front of the frightened young soldier.
“Sir yes Sir, it was noted Sir.”
“So? Who are they, these two for whom you saw fit to risk our entire organization?” Riley was pacing, rounded on the young man to grit his teeth and wait.
Chambers looked over to Bourke then recited all they knew, “One A. Harris, building project manager, Sacramento. One W. Aurelius, investor, Boston. Both flew in from the UK three days ago. Ticket indicates they are here for ten days. They left for Tuscany, apparently with a friend, this morning.”
“No other anomalies?”
“No Sir, body temperatures both in the normal range, no unusual behavior.”
At this point Bourke gave a barely audible snort.
Riley rounded on him as his own officer rolled his eyes and wondered why they continued to send him the ‘dumb ones’, “Something to say soldier?!”
“Not really Sir, just that they’re fags, Sir.” Bourke had been less than convinced of their task in the first instance but remembered his own officer’s adamant insistence that they continue monitoring.
“Stir your pot did it son?” Riley put a hand on either side of the unfortunate soldier’s chair, “Jack off in your own fucking time Dorothy!” He pushed away and raised his voice still further to the two, now frightened young men, “Now tell me why I’m not sending you back stateside with ‘no promotion’ written on your sorry arses?”
Riley spun on his heel and paced the length of the room in silence, idly grabbing a handful of the surveillance photos in anger as he passed the table. As he approached the ancient fireplace at the end of the interrogation room he stopped dead. He flicked through the dozen photos in his hand. He knew the face. The brunette. Buffy’s friend. The boy who had loaned him clothes and played friend in the months he ran with the Slayer’s group in Sunnydale. The blonde’s face seemed perpetually obscured. From all accounts younger of the two so unlikely but….
He turned on the worried young men in the room and demanded, “Name them again!”
“One Alexander Lavelle Harris of S….”
“Xander.”
“Sir”
“Slayer’s friend from Sunnydale.” Riley turned back to the photos, fingering through the various ‘positions’, noting the pretty behind, long hair and earring of the ‘boy’ Xander had brought with him. Riley moved to the window of the room and mumbled to himself, “Never figured him a switch hitter… should have guessed with the clothes and all the women friends and….”
The group captain spoke up first, “Sir?”
Riley turned with a murderous glint in his eye, “Where did they go? I want them tracked, found and brought in.”
“But Sir! There’s noth…”
“*Bring them in*!!! This is the slayer’s friend from high school. I don’t care who the cabana boy is, if we get this A Harris, we get to the original Slayer, and her team.” Riley turned to stare out of the window once more. “You have my orders. Track them and take them. If nothing else, hold Harris for long enough for us to work out if he’s with the council. If not negotiate… you never know who might be happy to take a ‘spotters fee’ for demons. Take his little friend too – might help him to be more….cooperative.” Riley almost growled out the last part.
Chambers and Bourke exchanged a look. Both had spent hours watching the tender and passionate coupling of the men Major Finn now spoke of so disparagingly. Somehow the whole thing felt wrong to Chambers. But he held his tongue, knowing his opinion was unwelcome, indeed a career limiting move.
Bourke and Chambers were dispatched to track down the car that had left with the subjects of their most recent surveillance. They were given four days.
…………………..
“What’s the plan mate? You got some intel? Cause gotta say, been their guest before and not fancyin’ a trial of their new toys!”
“Agreed.”
As an after thought Spike turned to face his ‘compatriot in arms’, clenched his jaw and ground out, “And Xander doesn’t go near ‘em.”
“My dear fellow, I would love to promise that and include Buffy in that equation, but… I believe that may well be up to our partners… yes?”
The Immortal and his newly made friend exchanged a rueful grin. “We’re both love’s bitch then.”
“Ahhh my dear friend, indeed it would seem so.”
“So…. The plan?”
“We go in tomorrow night.”
“Oh bloody hell!”
At that instant Xander pushed open the door. Still toweling his hair dry, he wandered over to kiss his lover on the cheek then turned to their guest. “Hey Spike, Anton… What’s up?”