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Chapter 30
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The flight to California was quiet. Most of the group were lost in their own thoughts. Private reflections and recriminations were the order of the day. It was a somber team headed for a final battle with a seemingly ageless enemy.

Spike and the original Rescue Rangers, Giles and Xander, were there, as was the rest of the core group, including Faith and Wood. They had selected Vi and Caridad from the slayers called at the Hellmouth time of power sharing along with three girls discovered months after. Those girls--Naomi, Ming-Nga and TaLisha--were the ones who had stood out in skills and maturity.

It had been decided that a decent back-up force would stand ready, even though the prophecies seemed to indicate that Spike alone would fight this battle. Angel was once again heading up the back-up force, just as he had agreed to do when Sunnydale fell.


Giles would still call the shots, but Angel was his military right-hand man, or vampire rather. He had slayers, seasoned rogue demon hunters, one awesomely powerful witch and a former demon god at his command. While fifteen seemed a small number for a back-up unit, the skills they represented were impressive.

Angel felt a bit nervous about Nina including herself in the group, but as she had pointed out quite forcefully, she was no pushover, even not in wolf mode. All the time spent waiting for some word about Angel’s whereabouts and then the intense training time in London had shown her strength and enhanced senses to be with her even during the other phases of the moon. She had sparred regularly with Connor as they awaited the call to join the group in England. After the Reillys’ murder, they had not wanted to be caught with their defenses down. Charles Gunn had helped teach Nina some of the skills he had honed to perfection on the streets of L.A. When it came time to put the team together, Nina had insisted her skills were at least as effective as those of Robin Wood and Xander Harris and far exceeded Dawn Summers’ to boot.

Still, Angel brooded. Strike that! He reflected seriously. His son Connor had innate abilities that still amazed the Watchers. Actually, Connor’s very existence baffled the lot of them. The offspring of two essentially dead creatures was of definite interest to the reformed group. Angel stared down
more than one tweed-clad moron who made the mistake of looking at Angel’s pride and joy as if he were small, furry and had a long, hairless tail. They were on their way to save Angel’s lost love. But everything Angel cared about was on the line, not just Buffy. Connor and Nina were his future and a deep part of his heart. Even Spike, as one of his Aurelian line, would be a severe loss if he didn’t make it.

Angel hated not being in control when so much was riding on the outcome. He’d rather charge in himself than risk all he loved, especially when another was making the battle plans. As much as he respected Giles, Angel didn’t give away authority easily. Angel still wanted to be the one to go into the belly of the beast and rescue the fair damsel, with her kicking and screaming if necessary. To have to sit back and rely on William the Bloody, the wayward offspring begat by Angel’s own mad offspring, made his teeth clench. What Cordy had once teased him about might be true after all; Angel might have difficulty delegating responsibility to others. And so he sat and brooded…reflected on the upcoming battle.

Giles was going over the plans in his head again and again, making sure that no tiny detail would be overlooked. He had learned in the aftermath of the Sunnydale battle that Spike could be replied upon to do his part and do it to the death if necessary. Giles only wished they had more information about the other dimension or that they could chance entering it along with Spike. Instead they would be left to cool their heels in a backwater Mexican town waiting to see
what might spill out of a disguised dimensional doorway.

Now was the time for Rupert Giles, Watcher through and through, rather than Ripper Giles, man of action,taking no prisoners. All the victories past and future would mean nothing if he had to record the loss of his Buffy at this
juncture. When they went in to face down the First Evil, Rupert had nearly made a fatal mistake by allowing his prejudices and fears to attempt to remove the one being necessary for that victory to occur. This time even Robin Wood knew better than to second guess Spike’s value to the project.

Dawn was biting her fingernails. She hadn’t done that since she was ten. Of course, that was a false memory; she had never been a ten year old girl, but she clearly remembered her mother putting a foul-tasting liquid on the nails to break her of the habit. Dawn trusted Spike implicitly and she had confidence that Buffy was all right now and would be safely returned to them soon. Still, the memories of the past that were real for her made her realize there was still much to be lost. Not everything was guaranteed to end up puppy dogs and lollipops in this life.

Frankly, seeing Spike so pensive made Dawn squirmy. Her vampire had always been restless, nearly hyper at times. The only time Dawn could remember Spike being so eerily quiet had been during his period of newly souled madness. She prayed that he wasn’t slipping back into some weird state with the weight of the whole rescue laying on his beautifully muscled shoulders.

"Hey, Big Bad, not having second thoughts about rescuing Buffy, are you? I know she can be a bit of a bitch, but we all love her anyway, even you." Dawn smiled to be sure he knew she was merely teasing.

"Just wonderin’ when I lost my balls‘s all. I mean even when I was poncy William, I still had enough of a pair to make a right wanker of myself. Knew those frilly boys would rip into me with my poems and so on, but kept at it anyway. Stupid but bold at the same time, ya know? All those months after I got my body back, I managed to talk myself out of so much as even callin’ Buffy. Then the daft boy says ‘move on’ and I tuck my tail between my legs and do what HE says. Don’t rightly know what I was thinkin’. I’ve never been scared of the boogeyman before, not even as a human--hell, not even when I found out there WAS a bloody boogeyman. I just didn’t think I could stand hearin’ her say that I was right when I said she didn’t love me. If I hadn’t lost my balls somewhere, maybe none of this would’ve happened. Maybe she and I wouldn’t be together, but I’d have been there, annoyin’, irritatin’, scrappin’ with her. I’d have been there at least and that soddin’ overblown puff, The Immortal, wouldn’t have just scampered off with the Slayer to some 70s music dimension."

"Andrew thinks that’s why he’s not with us on this mission. He thinks you blame him for Buffy and Eduardo and this whole mess. I told him he was being an idiot, that you were blaming yourself, but he’s so full of guilt that he’s as bad as you are!" Dawn told Spike.

"Hell, Niblet, I’ve got over a century of experience behind me to call on. He’s just a baby yet. He was played by the same poof that got it over Angelus and me lots of times. No need for him to expect to have done any better then we did against The Immortal. This time it wasn’t even that one making the game plan, it was serious evil masterminds. Boy didn’t stand a chance. Andrew isn’t part of this game because he can’t fight his way out of a wet bag. May be hope for him as a Watcher type in time, but he’s never gonna be Andrew, G.I. Joe edition." Spike laughed at the image that conjured up.

"Well, it’s not your fault either, you big dummy! When has Buffy ever listened to anyone? She didn’t even listen to Mom and Dad when we were kids. Mom always said Buffy was as headstrong as a mule. Nope, if she wanted to go somewhere with Eduardo, she would have gone. She might have gone just to get even with you for not calling her, if she’d known you were back. No one makes Buffy do anything except Buffy. And as for the rescue, she can usually take care of that herself, too. Don’t go all Angel on us and forget you’re not dealing with some fragile flower here!" Dawn cautioned.

"Wouldn’t think of it, Bit. I love the whole package, even the part that’s tough as nails. I know this is one of those times that prove we all need a bit of help from time to time. Big sis’ll likely cut my ears off and stuff ‘em up my arse for chargin’ in like she needs help as it is. Hope so anyway. I saw her once with her spirit crushed, don’t ever want to see that again in my expected very long lifetime." Spike remembered far too well how broken Buffy had been that night in Sunnydale, that best night of his life as it turned out. Part of what had made it the best was knowing that he had been able to help her find her feet again, bounce back. When the chips were down, it had been HIS words, HIS encouragement that had given her the lifeline she so desperately needed.

The conversation between Dawn and her vampire had been softly spoken, barely above a whisper. Still, in the near silence hanging like a shroud over the group, it might have been shouted.

"One of the things that makes me glad not to be the champion this time is the thought that I might get to see Buffy rip a patch off of you for a change!" Angel teased. "Kinda looking forward to that, Spike. Buffy kickin’ your ass has got to be one of the prettiest sights this vamp could hope to see."

"Not gonna argue with you, Gramps. If she comes out kickin’, that’ll mean she’s okay. ‘Sides, she’ll feel all guilty later and there’s nothing like makin’ up with Buffy." Spike smiled wistfully. He wasn’t about to mention to his sire that Buffy had never bothered to do any making up with him in all the years they had fought and shagged and argued and fought some more. A vamp could dream, after all.

"Yo, who’s up for some deep sea fishing when this is all done? I’ve been reading the stuff Will printed off about Baja, Mexico … okay, I’ve been looking through and checkin’ out the good stuff. Thinking we could use some unwind time battling nothing stronger than a sailfish or something. Anybody want to take me on?" Faith playfully slapped Robin Wood’s butt and quirked her eyebrows suggestively at him.

"Think I’ll pass, luv, sunlight issues and all." Spike said with a laugh.

"That’d be me, too," Angel agreed.

"Okay, aside from the vamps, anybody else wanna wuss out on me?" Faith challenged. "Come on folks, we’re in the home stretch here. No need for all the doom and gloom brooding, except for Angel, of course. We need to be thinking about the good stuff after Spike here beats these woodland critters and we’re all in Baja on the Council’s dime."

Faith felt odd taking on the role of cheerleader for the group, but someone had to do it. Xander usually pulled out the comic relief, but he was too busy teaching Illyria the finer points of poker.

"I can’t believe none of you took the time to teach Her Greatness how to play this! She’s a natural with a built-in poker face and everything. I’m thinking Vegas," Xander enthused.

"We didn’t have time to teach her much of anything, Whelp. I’m thinking she’s got enough of Fred’s memories in there to be playing you pretty good, though," Spike suggested.

"The purpose of this game is to use trickery to accumulate these wooden discs. Is that not so, Cy? If this is so, then any memories contained in this shell will be of benefit. Of what good are these discs? They appear to have no magic, no purpose." Illyria looked to her guide to all things human and tilted her head in curiosity.

"Well, they represent whatever we want them to represent. Usually it’s money, although some degenerates have been known to play for kittens." Xander gave a crooked smile at Spike as he answered.


"Neither juvenile felines nor paper currency have value to such as I. These discs serve no purpose to me. This game begins to bore me." Illyria put her cards down and pushed herself back from the small table.

"You get good enough at it, you can get lots of paper currency. With lots of paper currency, you can get pretty much anything that does have value to you." Xander tried to put the goal into perspective for the blue god.

"Will it return my kingdom? My stolen powers? My worshipers? My glory? It is of no value." Illyria stood and looked down at the chips in disgust.

"Maybe not like you remember, Illyria, but power? Yeah, money can buy that. It’ll even get you worshipers if you have enough of it, at least as long as you have it. I suppose it can even buy a kingdom and what passes for glory here. It’s a stupid set-up we have here, I agree, but that is the way it works," Xander said with a sigh.

"It is vainglorious and false. There is no true value attached to these, or to what they represent." Illyria wasn’t buying into the values of modern society one bit. "Where is the proper homage for duty and honor and loyalty? Where are the warriors heralded, the artisans decorated, power and authority held in respect and fealty? In my world, the strong took because their strength earned such rights, they then saw to the needs of those worthy yet weak. The useless were left to wither." Illyria narrowed her eyes as she looked first to Xander, then to Spike in inquiry.

Spike and Xander shared a look, each hoping the other would take on the explanation of the finer points of mercy and charity. Spike finally shrugged and dove in. "Bluebell, I used to think just like that back in the day, before the soul. There is some truth in what you said, but it has to go further. The strong have an obligation to help the weak, to help them get stronger. Makes the whole lot of us better in the end. Right, Whelp?"

"Yeah, what he said. If you do it your way, you wind up with a world full of nothing but selfish bullies fighting each other until only one is left." Xander tried to further explain.

"And this is not a worthy outcome for such?" Illyria was clearly perplexed.

"Makes for a lonely world, princess. Bloody, too. Lots of cultures have tried it. Leads to paranoia and corruption in the leaders. You’ll see the more you get in touch with that human spark Fred left behind. No one more likely to be able to teach you about compassion than that one. Try lookin’ at the
world with her memories turned on and you’ll do fine." Spike hoped enough of Fred’s character was available for Illyria to use as a touchstone to learning the basics of using the heart for something more than pumping blood. "Besides, you never know who you might count out as useless. Take the Whelp here, one eye and a bit on the puffy side, but a good man to have at your back in a fight. Most of these girls would be written off by most people, but they each had a slayer layin’ inside, waiting for a call. You never know who might be just the one you need and if you’ve left ‘em to wither, they won’t be there when you do."

Willow had been following the conversation and jumped in at that point. "Ooh yeah, like Steven Hawking! He’s in a wheelchair and needs someone to interpret what the heck he’s saying, but he’s a brilliant physicist. What if you only listened to him try to talk and saw that he couldn’t walk … you could write him off completely! Maybe I can Google up some more examples, Illyria. That might be even better than learning to beat Xan at poker."