Chapter 12 - Answers

Wesley picked up the phone. “Yes?”

A British voice spoke from the other end. “Ah, yes. How are you…getting on?”

“Very well, thank you for the diplomatic inquiry. I hate to seem rude, but what is this regarding?”

A pause. “Have you heard anything pertaining to the Slayer?”

“Why should I have? I’m no longer there. You are.”

“Yes, but she’s not. She disappeared. Some time ago, actually.”

“Killed?” Wesley asked.

“Possibly, but I have no reason to believe that she didn’t—”

“Get bored and leave?”

Silence from the other man.

“For all I know, she could be in Tahiti. I’m sure my replacement is more than capable of dealing with whatever she’s done now.”

There was a pause. “I should rather think not. She, er, got him killed. Shortly afterward, she vanished.”

“I see. I’m sorry. Is that all?”

“Yes.”

Wesley placed the phone back on the receiver, somewhat annoyed. Why was everyone suddenly asking him about the Slayer?

Not that he was bitter for being fired by the Council, failing as a Watcher, or having his own Slayer torture him for kicks.

All right, so he was bitter. Slightly.

-----

After they’d gotten home, Buffy had gone up to her room and not come out. Instead of thinking about things, she had played denial girl. She had given herself a manicure, watched TV, reorganized her closet, and even done her homework. The result of which was that the thoughts she had pushed away were still spinning in her head as she stared at the ceiling and tried to go to sleep.

Doesn’t care what side he’s playing as long as he gets paid.
You’re perfectly safe with Spike.
Vampires are not romantic figures, they’re killers.
…keeps his word…saved my life…possesses the gem…perfectly safe…

Buffy sighed and sat up, leaning against the headboard. She had always been better at thinking out loud than in her head. “Spike, if you can hear me, I want to talk to you,” she whispered on impulse.

A moment later, her door opened and he stuck his head in.

“Okay, that’s beyond creepy.”

He shrugged.

“Come in, I guess.” She flicked on the lamp beside her bed.

Spike closed the door and stood roughly in the center of the room.

There was silence. Buffy glanced in the direction of the far wall. “Mom and Dad are fighting again,” she said blankly.

“You wanna know what they’re sayin’?”

She laughed. “God, no. It’s bad enough I can hear them at all. So…” Buffy trailed off, unsure of where to start. “Um, do you have the gem thingy?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t tell.”

“I know you won’t, love.” There was a pause. “I told him he could tell you.”

“What else did you tell him?”

“To explain things a bit, tell you what you wanted to know.”

“Oh. So did you really save Wesley’s life?”

He nodded. “Didn’t really mean to. I saw this demon in an alley and decided to have a bit o’ fun. Killed it right quick. Then the Watcher limps out from the side, all bleedin’ and can’t hardly hold his axe. Nearly fainted when he saw me, thought he was done for. I just left him standin’ there.”

“So you didn’t want to kill him?” she ventured.

“Figured he owed me one now. Those sodding Watcher types are walkin’ libraries. Good to go to in a pinch. They’re uptight as hell, though.”

“How did you know he was a…a Watcher?”

“Can tell a Watcher a mile off. Deep down, he’s still just itchin’ to fix me right and proper.”

Buffy fiddled with the edge of her blanket. “How much is Dad paying you?”

“Fifteen hundred a day.”

“That how much it costs to follow some human chick around?”

“Apparently.”

“But this isn’t your usual thing, is it?” she asked after a moment.

“No.”

“You usually do illegal stuff?”

Spike snorted. “Yeah, pet. I do illegal stuff. I do whatever I’m paid to do.”

“If someone had paid you to kidnap me, you would have done it, wouldn’t you?” she demanded. “Without a second thought.”

“Yeah, I would’ve.”

“Kill me?”

“Done it before.”

Buffy swallowed. She couldn’t ask the other question. “I guess being a vampire comes with skewed morals,” she said.

“It does,” he said flatly. “Look, right now, I’m protectin’ you. Doin’ a good job, too. And yeah, I did it for the money. Vampire, here. Deal with it or don’t. You want someone else, Wesley’ll fix you up.”

“You don’t really care if I live or die.”

“I—”

“This is just another job to you.”

“It was.”

Spike suddenly frowned, mouth opening slightly. From the look on his face, the words had slipped out before he’d realized it.

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means,” he said, not looking at her, “that I got too bloody well involved.”

“And that means?”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t know. All right?”

She didn’t know what else to say, and for a moment he simply stood, staring down at her. Then he turned, walking out of the room.

“Fine,” she said after him. “You can stay. But the vampire thing is still weird.”

-----

The next evening, Spike was napping in his room when Wesley called.

“What?” he answered.

“Well, it seems Mr. Summers got involved in some very shady business deals a while back. He lost quite a bit of money, and he still owes almost a quarter million to a Mr. Smith. By the way, having the name was quite helpful. Perhaps it was fortuitous that they made another attempt. I wonder how you ever managed to get one to talk,” he commented dryly.

Spike chuckled. “He won’t be playin’ the piano for a while. The name Smith was it, though. All lackeys know is orders. Still, what’s two hundred thousand to Summers? This house has gotta be several million.”

“From what I can tell, all he has left is the house, and part of it’s mortgaged. There are no savings, no other equity. A real estate scheme plus an investment in an overseas corporation that went broke led to him borrowing money from Smith. Needless to say, he was unable to repay it.”

“So who’s this Smith?”

“He’s quite the name in certain upper class circles of the human underworld. Quite the perfect corporate businessman on paper, his racket is loan sharking, as well as prostitution rings located primarily in Central America. Several of the high profile tourist disappearances are thought to be traced back to those who report to him, but no one has been able to pin anything on him or his associates. Sometimes his business becomes…mixed.”

Spike was silent for a moment, and something in him tightened as he realized the implications of Wesley’s statement. “You think he wants to collect Buffy as payment.”

“That would be my guess. She’s equity, as far as he’s concerned. Unfortunately, that’s all my source knew about Smith, and I’m not sure what good the information will do. The authorities have been unable to catch him on anything so far.” He paused. “However, Mr. Summers knew who was after his daughter, that it was the result of something he himself had done, and that he’d never be able to get her back. Going to the police would lead to certain other questions, as well as the fact that Smith probably threatened him with something worse if he did so.”

Spike was silent again. He found himself focusing on a tiny mark on the ceiling.

“Spike?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s something else.”

“Well?” he prompted.

“Mr. Summers’ last check bounced,” Wesley said carefully.

“How much we get?”

“Payment for nine days. Which means that he owes for one day already. I placed several messages on his phone.” A pause. “What do you intend to do?”

“Well, contractin’ is sorta your end, innit?”

“Yes, well, I was referring to Miss Summers.”

“Payment upfront. If he’s busted, he’s busted. And I’m gone.”

Spike hung up the phone.

He knew the words were a lie the second they were out of his mouth. He glanced at the wall that was in the direction of Buffy’s room.

After a moment, he got up and made his way down the hall, pausing at her door. She was sitting at her vanity, doing something with makeup. Then she paused, staring into the mirror and looking somewhat contemplative.

Spike shifted, letting his clothing rustle. Buffy turned around at the noise.

“Hey,” she said.

“Absorbed in your reflection?” he asked, walking in. He stood behind her at the vanity.

She looked back in the mirror, glancing at herself and then to where he should be. “Just the fact that I have one, I guess.” She turned around. “I’m thinking it’s midnight snack time. You wanna order anything? There are a few places still open.”

“Nah.”

“I guess Buffy’s cooking, then. Beware.”

When he didn’t say anything, she frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.”

She was still looking up at him.

“You go on, pet. I’ll be down in a minute. Got a call to make.”