Chapter 13

A/N: Inner thoughts and conversations are in italics.

(Rome, Italy)

Joe Dawson had never been a laid-back kind of guy. Sure, he liked to believe he was, and at times, he almost passed as one; but the cold, hard truth of his personality was that he couldn't just sit back and watch as injustice and evil happened in front of him. Hell, that's what made him a terrible Watcher: he just couldn't ignore what had been happening to MacLeod, and had to get involved. Looking back now, he couldn't decide whether that had been a good thing or not. Still, he could reasonably call Mac his friend, even though their friendship had been pushed to the breaking point many times.

As he rode the slate-nickel gray elevator to his destination, Dawson asked himself for the hundredth time, - How in the hell did he get suckered into this? Perhaps it was an after-effect of being tempted by the demon Ahriman for the return of his legs: it was as if his sensitivity to the supernatural had been heightened, like some internal switch in his brain had flicked on. Now this place raised the hackles on the back of his neck, and his left hand swiped it to try to chase away the chill that had made the hair at the nape of his neck stand on end.

The elevator doors opened to the top floor - well, not really the top floor - of Wolfram & Hart. Composing his features, Dawson strolled out of the elevator. He really needed to go back to Paris and say a thank you at the grave of that bastard, Horton, for teaching him how to suppress his emotions. James Horton had been his friend; hell, Horton was his brother-in-law. But he had also started a corrupt, covert group of Watchers who believed that the Immortals were a threat to humanity, even though that most Immortals never cared to get involved in mortal matters. Dawson had doubted MacLeod about Horton's involvement with that group, and especially the allegation of him working in conjunction with Xavier St. Cloud; that had not only almost ended his friendship with Duncan, but had also nearly caused his execution by his fellow Watchers.

Making his way through the den of evil, Dawson observed devil demons making deals with … well, he didn't know what they were exactly, except that they were purple with what appeared to be steel spikes in their chins and foreheads. Sometimes, he longed for those halcyon days where he only knew of the existence of Immortals. Good times.

He nodded to the receptionist, who was on the phone, and queried, "Is she in?"

A smile and a nod later, Dawson opened the door to the office of the CEO of the Rome branch of Wolfram & Hart. Before he was fully inside the office, he was grabbed and hugged by the tiny but strong Italian woman. He heard the door close behind him, and felt his ass being raked by very long fingernails.

"Joe! I was just thinking about you, darling. You are the perfection of timing." Ilona's heavily accented English filled the room.

"Ilona… I was coming up to invite you to lunch. You haven't eaten yet, have you?" Joe asked her. His skin crawled at her touch; but, apparently, the bitch thought that was a positive response.

"Not as of yet, my darling. You know how it is, work…work. But now is time for play, yes? I shall ring my chef." Ilona turned to head back to her desk, her heels briskly moving across the plush carpeted floor.

He couldn't let her eat in today; he needed to get her outside. Inwardly cringing at the saccharine in his voice (Mac's so going to owe me several favors; Methos too) Joe protested, "Ilona, my sweet," - he never called anyone 'sweet' - "it's a beautiful day out, the weather is mild. Come with me, out to lunch. There's a bistro not far from here that I've been wanting to try. Come out to play; a little sunshine and fresh air would do you good. You work too hard." He continued to press the right buttons.

Joe watched as an internal debate waged in Illona's head. She was good, he'd have to give her that. Had he not learned and studied her well, he'd never suspect she was trying to make a decision. The same look in a boardroom full of lawyers would have revealed nothing. Or perhaps he was deluding himself, thinking that he had successfully broken through to the ice-queen of Rome.

She smiled, which to him looked as lethal as her talon-like fingernails. "Yes! That sounds lovely. Let me tell my assistant." Watching her buzz some connection, he listened as he thought through all the steps of today's agenda.

*****

Buffy and Dawn stood side-by-side in their shared cell suite. Fierce looks of concentration marred the young women's lovely faces. Both wore their own sweats; apparently, their wardrobes had been raided when they were kidnapped and brought here. Both were taking deep breaths, their legs planted slightly apart, knees bent.

Buffy blew out a deep breath, "First."

Both girls brought their left fists forward, punching the air. "Second." Their right fists took up the places where their lefts had been a moment before. They were training. Buffy knew she was a little out of shape since coming to Rome. Both needed the exercise, and both agreed they needed to be prepared to fight when the time came. Buffy felt a little like she was back home in Sunnydale, training the Potentials before the battle with the First. No; this reminded her of that peaceful summer before, while Willow was in recovery in England, when she had taken Dawn under her wing and had begun to train her to survive on the Hellmouth.

After twenty minutes of martial arts basics, Buffy and Dawn took a breather. Joe had not come with their lunch today; the other goon had. He was on Buffy's list. That guy gave her the creeps, the way he eyed Dawn; just the thought of him made her growl.

"Buffy, did you just growl?" Dawn asked, surprised at the noises coming from her sister. Did they slip Buffy something?

Buffy shook away her thoughts. "I think I did, Dawn. It's strange; I've been feeling a little weird since learning that Spike's alive." Unconsciously, Buffy fingered his marks on her neck. They'd faded in those months immediately following the destruction of Sunnydale, but for the last few months they'd started to reappear. She didn't know why before; now, maybe she did. Or at least, she hoped she understood. Especially since the other night, when she thought she could actually feel him in her mind.

"You okay?" Dawn asked.

"Yeah, just making a mental list and 'grrr-ing' at it twice. Making sure I guess who's been evil and … well, evil." She laughed. It felt good to laugh. She'd be damned if she'd let those W&H bastards break her spirit.

Dawn laughed with her, and Buffy casually appreciated the changes in her sister. She had been growing up since before the fall of Sunnydale, but now, a year later, Dawn had matured into a beautiful, responsible, independent woman. Buffy knew their mom would have been so proud. See, Mommy. See how beautiful she is? Buffy thought she heard Joyce whisper back, "Yes, both of my girls are beautiful and strong. We're Summers women."

"So, Dawnie, you up for a game of Scrabble?"

"Sure."

"Let's shower first; I'm all smelly. Though, not as smelly as you…"

"Yeah, right. Dibs!" Dawn squealed, as she raced to the bathroom.

"Don't use all the hot water!" Buffy yelled after her. She picked up a pretzel left over from her lunch and began to munch on it. Buffy hoped nothing had happened to Joe; he was usually ever-present during their meals, and she had started to like the guy.

To the monitors videotaping their every move, Buffy knew she would appear to be simply sitting and munching on a pretzel. In reality, she was mediating, as Giles had taught her - tuning into her senses and trying to open up whatever remained of her connection with Spike.

Whether the claim still worked as it was supposed to, Buffy didn't know. Despite what others sometimes thought, she wasn't a neglectful Slayer. After having been bitten by not one, not two, but three vampires - well, at the time, it had only been three - had she not researched possible effects and what the bites meant, she would have been crazy. Dracula and his bites' effects had sent Buffy sneaking off into the restricted section of the Magic Box's books to look up vampire biting and rituals. With fondness, Buffy remembered stumbling across the chapter on claims and mating, and how turned on she had gotten reading how vamps mated.

So, in their last night together, Buffy had known exactly what she was asking of Spike. She had wanted him to claim her, to show him her true emotions without putting them into words. Her Slayer self instructed her, pushed her. Upon completion of the mutual claim and mating, Buffy felt Spike's confusion and surprise at her acceptance flow through here; then, she'd fought back tears as images of both William's and Spike's pasts flooded her psyche.

Poor Spike. Never in his life or unlife had he known true love. Other than the familial love he felt for his mother and, to some extent, Dawn, he'd never comprehended what true love felt like. Sadly, Buffy realized that Spike didn't grasp what he was feeling through their link from her. She'd vowed that, every day following the defeat of the First, she would teach him love, and make sure he knew he was loved.

Buffy's heart broke when she realized he didn't believe her when she'd told him she loved him. Time stood still for her as their entwined hands burst into flames; it began again when he ordered her to get out. Her stubborn self kept telling her as she ran that Spike would be okay; he never left her, and he never would.

Chasing the bus across the rooftops, Buffy could still feel him. However, once she leaped onto the roof of the bus, she'd felt the claim break. Grasping for a hold on the bus, Buffy had gasped as the emptiness overwhelmed her. Only thoughts of Dawn had kept her holding on; what she really wanted to do was to race back and find him.

Later, standing on the edge overlooking the crater that was once the Hellmouth, Buffy heard Dawn ask her, "What are we going to do now?" A small smile had crossed her face then, tears in her eyes. Her friends never knew why she smiled. In that brief moment, she'd almost believed she'd felt Spike kiss her cheek then whisper, "Live for me, love."

It had taken her a couple of months to get accustomed to the emptiness left in the aftermath of Spike's death. Before the claim, Buffy always felt alone. 'Til those few hours, she had known what it meant to be complete, to be truly whole. The marks had faded for those two months, but then they'd started to come back. She had never shared that with the others, not even Dawn - it was something only between her and Spike.

So, she sat and reached out with her senses, trying to tap into whatever remained of the link between her and Spike. It was like he was there, but just out of her grasp. At least she could sense him now. When his emotions got really strong, she could feel him more. She couldn't wait to be back in his arms again.

Buffy breathed out and focused on sending her love to Spike. She hoped that he would feel her and reach back. It was like she was nudging him - like how Dawn used to try to get her to wake up. There! Keeping her outward appearance calm, Buffy's heart leapt for joy.

'Spike! Spiiike, hey Big Bad.' Buffy imagined purring in his ear.

'Buffy? Pet? You okay?' she heard her vampire reply.

'Yep, Dawn and I are fine; well as fine as two highly angry Summers women can be in the belly of some evil lawfirm,' she retorted.

'I love it when you're all brassed, luv.'

'Stop with the sweet talk; not going to let you get of the doghouse just yet. You are so going to explain why you didn't tell me you're al…well undead again.'

*****

Joe sat across from Ilona at an outside table at the bistro he'd suggested they try for lunch. He watched out the corner of his eye as the short waiter approached with their after-meal coffees. The waiter soundlessly placed their cups in front of them then cleared their plates and other glasses.

Ilona grimaced at her coffee and looked at Joe. Joe picked up his cup and sipped the rich, black coffee. Apparently satisfied that he wasn't about to keel over and die, Ilona smiled and began sipping hers. Fortuitously, an acquaintance of hers happened by, allowing Joe to look around. He gave a half nod to the waiter, then watched as the young man surreptitiously slipped Ilona's water glass into a satchel.

Joe motioned for the bill, and the waiter arrived shortly thereafter. All this took place while Ilona was discussing the latest Dolce & Gabbana fashion show with her female friend. The bill satisfied, the waiter disappeared - never to be seen serving at that bistro again.

*****

TBC