Across the Pond
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Hilary
Title: Across the Pond
Author: Keren and Meredith
E-mail: avssp@hotmail.com
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: B/S (just be patient)
Distribution: Sure, just let us know
Spoilers: Takes place in an alternate Buffyverse which diverges after “Crush”. Anything that occurred later on the show doesn’t exist. Earlier stories in this timeline are: All of You, Once Upon A Time, and Head to Head.
Disclaimer: These characters aren’t ours. We just like to play with them. They belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB, and any other copyright holders. Twiglets are made by Jacob’s Bakery. Zorro is copyright and trademarked to Zorro Productions Inc. Dallas originally appeared on CBS. Passions appears on NBC. Manchester United is short for Manchester United Football Club, or Manchester United PLC. Shriners are members of the Shrine of North America. The Sex Pistols recorded for Virgin Records, and Pink Floyd for Sony Music Entertainment Inc. Ovaltine is owned by Novartis. British Airways is a registered trademark of British Airways Plc. The Sherlock Holmes Museum, the London Dungeon, and the Tower of London all exist. “Herbert” does not. The Franciscans and Jesuits do exist, but not the monasteries in this story do not. (The Jesuits didn’t even arrive in Ireland till 1542). If the Order of Jean Baptiste does, it’s a coincidence. Broughton Castle, the Bodelian, and St. Theodore of Sykeon all exist, but we’ve never been to either place and as far as we know, His Holiness never had an order, let alone one that did spells. We just made it all up ’cause it sounded good. The Lord of Saye and Sele in 1885 was really named Frederick, but his dirty-dish houseguest, James Fairley, Lord Gainsborough, never existed. Between the international and the various national societies, I frankly can’t figure out who the term “Red Cross” belongs to. But it isn’t us. We don’t own MI-5, either.
Feedback: Yes please
Across the Pond
Part 1
Sunnydale Graveyard: nighttime. It is very dark and foggy, the surroundings are almost indistinguishable. Buffy (dressed in jogging pants, tank top and sneakers) sends a haymaker Spike’s way and deals him a stunning blow to the face. She then punches him with her other hand, only to have it grabbed. He smiles, thinking he has the advantage, when Buffy does a cartwheel, pulls his hand behind his back and punches him in the kidneys. He grunts in pain, whirls around, picks her up and throws her across the graveyard. Spike begins a series of spinning kicks towards her, and is taken down as she hooks her legs around his ankles and drops him. She flips herself up and kneels over him, fist raised...
Buffy: Spike? Spike! Wake up!
Spike wakes up to find himself in his crypt, in bed, minus any clothes. To his embarrassment, Buffy is standing next to his bed, in tight leather pants, and even tighter tank top, usual slaying gear.
Buffy: Wake up! Time to get your butt kicked.
Spike: Who needs dreams?
*************************************************************
At the Magic Box the next morning, Buffy comes in to find the scoobies suspiciously absent. Giles is on the phone, so she goes over to talk to Anya behind the counter.
Buffy: Where is everyone?
Anya: Well, Willow and Tara said they were going to do something, but I wasn’t listening. And Xander’s at work.
Buffy: Is everything ok with you guys?
Anya: Oh yes. Xander brought me flowers and then we had what he calls make-up sex.
Buffy: Great. I’ll just go over here now. (She goes to stand near Giles and waits for him to get off the phone.)
Giles (on the phone): Yes...yes. I quite understand. I’ll make all the necessary arrangements. I’ll be in touch. Thank you. (He hangs up.)
Buffy: Giles, there’s something...
Giles (not listening): Buffy, something extremely important has come up. The Council of Watchers has just notified me that they have located some very old manuscripts that make reference to the key and the Byzantine Knights. Unfortunately, they’re too fragile to be copied, let alone travel, and they want the two of us to go to England and give them the benefit of our practical experience.
Buffy: Doesn’t England have phones? They must, they just called you.
Giles: They believe that with my background on this subject, I may be better equipped than they to make a subtle connection. And frankly Buffy, I think it would be advisable to see the manuscript for ourselves, otherwise the Watchers may tell us only the portions they feel are suitable.
Buffy: And this involves me how? Giles read, Buffy punch.
Giles: They didn’t specifically request your presence, but when I mentioned you might accompany me, they were all eagerness to extend the invitation. Your, ah, abilities made rather an impression on them at your last meeting, and I intend to use that to our full advantage.
Buffy: So I stand around and look scary? I can handle that. What about Dawn?
Giles: We’ll have to bring her with us, and possibly your mother as well.
Buffy: Mom’s in New York for an art show this week, I’ve got sole Dawn duty. Fine, we bring Dawn, but I don’t want the Watchers getting too close a look at her, they’re not stupid. Well, not when it comes to magical mystical stuff anyway. And they’re definitely not on the need-to-know list.
Giles: Fine then, I’ll make the necessary arrangements. Perhaps your friends would like to come along as well; I could use Willow, Tara and Anya’s help with the research, and Xander, well...maybe he can keep Dawn amused.
Buffy: Yay! Scooby vacation! (She stops and thinks for a minute, and then says in a very small voice) I think we should bring Spike too.
Giles: Whatever for?
Buffy: I might need the backup if any of the Ovaltine Knights come around. Or if any Watchers get too watchy.
Giles: Buffy, I hardly...
Buffy: Giles, I know you don’t trust him, but I’m not sure I can manage Glory patrol, Watcher attitude and crazy men in metal suits when I don’t know the turf. You’ve gotta admit, Spike is from England, can take care of himself, and for some unknown reason, really likes my little sister. He can take her sightseeing while we hit the books. At night anyway.
Giles (sighing): I don’t like it, but I suppose you have a point. Maybe he’ll also provide a bit of distraction for the Council. One question, how do we get him there?
*************************************************************
A little bit later, in Spike’s crypt, Spike is leaning against the wall smoking, and Buffy is sitting on the newly upholstered couch.
Spike: In a box.
Buffy: You came here in a box?
Spike: Well, I certainly wasn’t sunning myself on the deck of a cruise ship.
Buffy: You could take the red-eye.
Spike: I don’t fancy betting my life on British Airways takin’ off on time.
Buffy: I see your point. You’re gonna be really expensive to ship. And a pain to pick up from the baggage carousel. What if there’s a mix-up, you know, I get a box full of car stereos, and some poor guy gets a big box of vampire?
Spike: Well, you can put me in a coffin, if you like the traditional Dracula touch.
Buffy: I’ve had quite enough of Dracula, thank you. I think mom has an old steamer trunk in the basement we can use.
Spike: Great, twelve hours in a musty old piece of luggage. Explain to me again why I’m doing this luv?
Buffy: Because you’d miss the sound of my melodious voice?
Spike: They do have phones in England pet.
Buffy: But you don’t. Besides, I need you to look out for Dawn while I’m dealing with the Council. They can’t find out she’s the key. And you can translate for us, it being your foreign country and all.
*************************************************************
On the plane: Willow and Tara are asleep on each other’s shoulders. Xander and Anya are sharing a row with Giles, who is quietly reading “Good Omens.” Buffy and Dawn are in the seats across from them.
Dawn: I can’t believe Spike is going to be in a box for like half a day.
Buffy: He’ll be fine, he’s done this before. Besides, I brown-bagged him a couple packets of blood, a Walkman and some nicorette gum. What else does he need? He doesn’t breathe or anything.
Xander (speaking loudly): I have my own TV screen? With eight movie choices! Cool!
Dawn: Not that I mind missing school or anything, but why are we going to England again?
Buffy: I need to put the fear of Slayer into the Watchers so Giles can get the info he needs. And where I go, you go.
Dawn: I’m tired of being dragged around like a roadie for Buffy and the Scoobies.
Xander: Look at this little care package! A shoe horn, sleep mask and...Fuzzy green socks! They think of everything!
Giles tries to shift away from Xander.
Buffy: Oh poor baby – forced to take a European vacation.
Dawn: It’s not gonna be any fun.
Buffy: Stop complaining, or I’m gonna tell Spike you said he was hot.
Dawn blushes.
Xander: They have video games! I’m in heaven.
Dawn: You’re kidding! (She starts playing with her monitor.)
*************************************************************
Hours later, in a rented van on the road, Giles is driving with Dawn asleep in the front seat. The rest of the gang is sitting in the back, chatting. The steamer trunk is also in the back emblazoned with stickers saying “Fragile,” “Do Not Open, Contents Dangerous,” and “This End Up.”
Spike (muffled in the trunk): Will you let me out of this bleedin’ box already? I know we’re not on the plane anymore, I can hear Xander yapping.
Buffy: I’ll get it. (She climbs to the rear, and opens the trunk.)
Spike (makes a big show of pretending to breathe heavily): Phaw! It was stifling’ in there! Back in merry old England are we?
Xander: Must be, we’ve been driving on the wrong side of the road for half an hour now, and no one’s hit us.
Both Giles and Spike roll their eyes.
Willow (looking up from the guidebook she’s reading): Where are we going, anyway?
Giles: The Council has a house just outside of Aylesbury, near Oxford. We’ll stay there and research the manuscripts at the Bodleian Library at Oxford University.
Spike: You’re taking me to a Watcher safe house?!? I didn’t come all the way here to sleep on a bed of stakes.
Giles: We’ve notified them of your presence, and made provisions for you not to end up as a pile of dust, gratifying as that might have been.
Spike: Well thank you very much. You have a great future as a travel agent.
Anya: Are we there yet?
*************************************************************
The next day at the Bodleian Library: the library is huge, with vaulted ceilings, ladders and the largest assortment of books that any of the scoobies have seen.
Willow (awestruck): Oh-my-god. Did you ever think there would be so many
books in one place?
Xander: It’s been the subject of many of my nightmares.
Giles: Impressive, isn’t it? I was a research fellow here for a semester or two.
A Watcher comes out from a side room. He is tall and gangly, with thinning hair and wire-rimmed glasses.
Geoffrey: Ah, Rupert, you’ve finally arrived. And these are your...assistants?
Buffy: Friends. The Slayer, at your service.
Geoffrey (steps back): So you’re Buffy...um, pleased to meet you?
Buffy: And you are...?
Geoffrey: Geoffrey Stanwick. I’m a member of the Watchers Council. I have heard many...things about you.
Buffy: So, where are the crumbly old papers?
Geoffrey (starts to say something, but decides against it): This way please. (He leads them into the room he had come out of.)
*************************************************************
Meanwhile, back at the Watcher Retreat. Dawn is wandering around the house, bored out of her skull. She finally goes down to the basement where they have set up a bed for Spike.
Dawn (prodding a sleeping Spike in the ribs): Wake up, I’m bored!
Spike (rolls over): Mmmph.
Dawn: Wake up! You’re supposed to be entertaining me!
Spike: No, I’m supposed to be having you for breakfast, (pulls a pillow over his head) now go away!
Dawn: You can’t. Now wake up! (She prods him continually in the side until he sits up.)
Spike: Alright, I’m up, I’m up! You didn’t have to poke a bleedin’ hole in my side!
Dawn (pouting): There’s nothing to do here. England sucks.
Spike: Hey now that’s my bloody country you’re talkin’ about!
Dawn: Well, it’s boring.
Spike: England is not boring. Being in a house furnished by Watchers is boring. Watchers’ idea of excitement is admiring the begonias at the parish ruddy tea social. One of these nights Twiglet, I’ll show you the real England. Now, what have you been doing while I was getting my beauty rest?
Dawn: Watched bad TV, explored the house, went through Buffy’s luggage…
Spike: Find anything good?
Dawn: Just the usual: underwear, stakes, you know.
Spike: What about the rest of the gang?
Dawn: I didn’t look.
Spike: Now pet, haven’t I taught you anything? Nothing to do! Run up and shut the curtains, we’ll find blackmail material for months!
*************************************************************
Later that day, everyone is returning to the house. As they are entering, Buffy pulls Giles aside.
Buffy: Giles, I really need to talk to you.
Giles: Buffy, what is it?
Buffy: Um...remember when I came into the magic shop and wanted to talk to you and then all the British stuff happened?
Giles: Yes, it was only three days ago.
Buffy: Well, remember when you said no more practice until further notice?
Giles: Yes Buffy, I still have the use of my faculties, and my memory is completely unimpaired. Did you want to tell me about anything that hasn’t already happened?
Buffy: Um...Spike and I have sorta been doin’ some extra-curricular punching each other in the face. Oh! And kicking each other in the head.
Giles: Buffy! I thought we decided that was unwise!
Buffy: No, you decided.
Giles: I thought that when you asked me to be your Watcher again that you would take my advice.
Buffy: It started as an accident, I lost my temper, but it felt right. Besides, that wasn’t advice, it was an order. You didn’t say why, and you don’t seem to have any plan B for figuring it out either.
Giles: I was concerned for your safety.
Buffy: I can take care of myself, especially when it comes to impotent vampires who are in love with me. Look, safe Buffy good, but strong Buffy better. It’s way more helpful fighting a moving target with a brain than a stand-still rubbery thing.
Giles: What’s the rush? We could consult the Watchers, try to get in touch with the Initiative, try a spell to see what’s happened...
Buffy: With Spike, I’m learning, and for once, I get to enjoy doing what I do best without anyone being sucked into hell. It’s relaxing.
Giles: I see your point, but I’m still not happy about this. I don’t trust Spike and you absolutely should not have started this without consulting me!
Buffy: Giles! I know you don’t trust Spike, you’ve only said it about a million times, but he’s not gonna hurt me! We can still do the research thing, but NO Initiative. (She pauses) And yeah, you’re right, I should’ve talked to you first, but you should’ve talked to me first too. I’m not sixteen anymore! (She turns and goes inside.)
Giles (muttering under his breath): You didn’t listen then, either.
*************************************************************
The next morning, Dawn is sitting on her bed, writing in her journal.
Dawn (voice over): Well, I’ve finally started a new journal. Thought I should keep track of all my overseas adventures. So far, they’ve been less than exciting, though Spike and I did find a Zorro mask in Xander’s luggage. Spike’s going to have hours of fun with that one! Otherwise, so far as I can tell, England is a small, ugly, split-level bungalow. It rains, and they only have three channels on TV, all of which show soccer and old Dallas reruns. Luckily, Spike has promised me a midnight sight-seeing excursion if Buffy the Fun Slayer doesn’t interfere...
*************************************************************
Meanwhile, at the Bodleian library, Willow and Tara are in one of the back rooms in the New Library building. They are at a table looking over the manuscripts, and as usual, are surrounded by many large books, when two Watchers walk in.
Watcher1: Where’s Rupert?
Willow: He muttered something about a something monk and walked out.
Watcher 2: The two of you should not be here alone, if at all. This is most irregular.
Willow: We’re better than regular, we’re super-unleaded researchers. (She attempts a smile.)
Both of the Watchers stare at her.
Tara: Have you found anything yet?
Watcher1: I hardly think we should discuss such matters without Rupert here.
Tara: So, you haven’t, have you?
Watcher 1: Not as such, no.
There is a long and awkward silence, as the two parties’ stare at each other, not knowing what to say.
Willow: So, what do levels mean?
Watcher 2: I beg your pardon?
Willow: Well when the watching contingent came and interviewed us, they asked what level witches we were. Is there a test? Does everyone in England have levels?
Watcher1: No no no my dear girl. Witching levels have been strictly determined for hundreds of years...ever since we stopped burning them that is.
Willow: Talk about your awkward transitions. So, who determines this?
Watcher 1: The council.
Willow: You guys?
Watcher 2 (sighs): A different council. The Council of Witches and Warlocks. They decide what degree of magic is appropriate to attempt at each level, and provide suitable instruction to those that need it.
Willow: How does that work? Are there take home courses? Entrance exams? Is this where I get an owl and a really disgusting bag of jellybeans?
Watcher 1: Not precisely. I could put you in contact with a member of the Council if you so desire though it does seem that you have already leapt far beyond what is considered prudent.
Tara: That would be great, thank you.
They return to their studying.
*************************************************************
Later that day, in London, Xander and Anya have taken Dawn for a tour of the Tower of London.
Anya: Awww! This is where Hubert’s head used to hang.
Dawn: Who’s Hubert?
Anya: Oh, he was some rich old English guy who took the wrong side in a religious war and lost all of his land. Only it was his wife’s land, really. She got mad and called me and so his head ended up on a stick.
Dawn: That’s so...
Xander: Creepy?
Dawn: I was gonna say cool.
Xander: You’ve been hanging out with Mr. Fangy Face too much.
Dawn: Uh Huh. (Turning to Anya) Can we go to the London Dungeon?
Anya (very enthusiastic): We sure can!
Xander groans.
Dawn: C’mon, it’ll be educational.
*************************************************************
That night, Buffy and Spike are walking through the streets of Oxford. The only sounds are a distant passing car, and laughter from an open dormitory window. It’s not raining, but the pavement is wet. A huge full moon hangs low over the University spires.
Buffy: I know this isn’t the Hellmouth, but I feel all wrong if I don’t walk around with a stake for a few hours before bed. It’s like forgetting to brush your teeth.
Spike: There are vampires here too, luv.
Buffy: Well, duh. Just not one every five feet. It’s kinda nice to walk around at night and be able to notice things like grass, trees, old stone buildings that aren’t cursed...
Spike: I know what you mean luv. This place brings up lots of old memories. I ate a whole crew team right over there. They deserved it; bastards beat us four years in a row.
Buffy: Huh? Us?
Spike (embarrassed): You know, Cambridge.
Buffy: So not picturing you in the varsity sweatshirt.
Spike: We didn’t have sweatshirts back then.
They walk in silence for a bit.
Buffy (looking up at the moon): I wonder what Oz is doing tonight.
Spike: Going wild, I expect. When it’s like that, it even makes me want to tear things down and dance on the ruins.
Buffy laughs.
Spike (turns to face her): What’s so bleedin’ funny?
Buffy: That’s the true voice of Spike: chaos and destruction. Compare and contrast with “the moon is bright tonight, but no brighter than your eyes.”
Spike (cups the side of Buffy’s face with his hand, and runs his thumb softly along her cheek) That’s true too, love.
Spike stares into Buffy’s eyes and then kisses her. She stays frozen in surprise and indecision for a moment. Before she can decide whether to kiss him back or punch him, a voice comes from the alley nearby.
“Well if it isn’t William the Bloody carrying on with the Slayer! Or are you just playing with your food again?”
Buffy and Spike break apart and whirl to face the sound. Buffy pulls out a stake.
Buffy: Who’s there? (A woman of about 40 steps into the light. She has high cheekbones and curly light brown hair, and seems vaguely familiar. She is wearing a long skirt, lace up boots, and a blouse with puffed sleeves.)
“This is quite a surprise. When were you going to tell me you were in town? Or weren’t you?”
Spike [guiltily]: I sent a postcard…
“With no return address, I’ll bet. Really, William, you’ve come all the way across the pond, you could at least have dinner with me. ” (She looks at Buffy)
Spike (steps between the two women): Spike, Mum. It’s been Spike for a hundred years!
“You’ll always be William to me, dear. You should have told me you were coming over with the Slayer, I had to hear it from Emma down the way”
Buffy: That’s your mom? How can that be your mom? She’d have to be a hundred and …oh.
Spike: That’s why I didn’t call, Mum. Slayer/Vampire social gatherings are so awkward.
“You seem to be managing.” (Buffy and Spike both look embarrassed)
Spike: Fine. Mum, this is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Buffy, this is the Dark Menace of Oxfordshire.
Buffy: Pleased to meet you, Mrs. … um… the Bloody?
“Call me Tilly.”
Buffy (in babble mode): You turned your mom! You turned your mom. Why did you turn your mom? Angel said you killed your mom.
Spike: Yeah, well, Angel doesn’t know everything.
Buffy: He said he was there.
Spike: It was like this. It was right after I became a vampire. Angelus wanted me to kill my mum, and Darla was real keen on the idea. She said it was a rite of passage or some rot like that, but I think she just wanted to watch me squirm. She was a cold one. Anyway, there’s them dead set on it…
Buffy: So to speak.
Spike: And me with no more clue how to survive without them than a baby. And then there was Dru. She wouldn’t leave Angelus, and I wouldn’t leave her.
Buffy: So what did you do?
Spike: I pretended I thought it was a great joke, drained her nearly dry, and left her for dead. Then I made a big show of feeling all liberated and going on a spree to celebrate – and then snuck back to the house and hoped I’d be in time. I just made it, thank… something.
Buffy: Why didn’t you just kill her?
Spike (defensively): Because she was a bloody good mum that’s why. She took me to the seaside, and told me silly stories when I had the mumps. And sent me off to school even though she must have been lonely with Da gone. And she never laughed at my poems. I didn’t see why she should have to die just ’cause Angel hated his parents.
Buffy (softly): And you loved her.
Spike: Yeah, like that. And on that note, I would be eternally grateful if you would refrain from turning her into a small pile of dust.
Buffy: I can’t stake your mom. She’s your mom!
Tilly: That’s very considerate of you dear.
Buffy: But I’m supposed to. I mean, Vampire Slayer, it’s in the name. They don’t call me Buffy the Vampire Polite Conversation Girl. (Puts down the stake) Still, I guess you didn’t eat my mom, even when you could have…
Spike (interrupting and talking fast): Of course not. I’ve liked Joyce ever since she hit me with that axe.
Tilly: Gracious, what a bloodthirsty family.
Buffy: You should talk.
Tilly: You don’t seem to have any trouble not staking my son. Why have a crisis of conscience over me?
Buffy: That’s different. He’s…
Spike (interrupting again):...an old friend. Look, how about we call it a truce for tonight. Mum, you won’t eat Buffy and she won’t stake you. Alright?
Both nod, and Spike looks immensely relieved.
Tilly: In that case, why don’t you both come back to my house for a cup of tea?
Spike (to Buffy): Alright pet?
Buffy (still dazed): Tea. Yeah. Tea is good. I can do tea.
They follow Tilly through several side streets to a bright blue door in a small stone house. Inside, the parlor has two chintz-covered sofas, several little tables crowded with china figurines, and thick red velvet curtains.
Tilly: Please, sit down. I won’t be a minute. (she disappears into the kitchen)
Buffy: Now I see where you got your taste in knickknacks. (A thoughtful silence falls, broken by Tilly coming in with the tea tray.)
Tilly: You look pale, Will. Are you getting enough to eat?
Spike (looking guilty again): I’ve been busy, mum.
Tilly: It’d be no trouble to warm you up a cuppa. I’ve got beef, mutton, pork, or human.
Buffy (jumps up): Human? Do you have some poor guy bleeding to death in the pantry? Or do you bring them home and stuff them in the juicer?
Tilly: Hardly, dear. My, what mess that would make. The local Red Cross throws away the unusable blood after their big drive – if you add a little nutmeg you hardly notice the aftertaste.
Buffy (sits back down sheepishly): Oh.
Spike: Human, then.
Tilly: And for you, Buffy?
Buffy looks nauseated.
Spike: Buffy doesn’t drink blood, Mum.
Tilly: Of course not dear. But how about some scones?
Buffy nods and Tilly disappears again.
Buffy: She doesn’t know about the chip, does she? (Spike shakes his head.)
Buffy: Why not? After the way you jumped down my throat for not telling Mom I’m the Slayer…
Spike: I did not! I was just surprised, that’s all.
Buffy: I didn’t want to worry her.
Spike: Well, I don’t either.
Buffy: I still think you should tell her…
Tilly (reappearing with blood and scones): Tell me what dear?
Spike: Oh, nothing.
He snags a scone from Buffy’s plate and dips it in his blood. Buffy and Tilly both shudder and make eye contact for a moment.
Buffy: These are delicious. But if you don’t mind my asking, why do you bother baking? Spike doesn’t even have a kitchen.
Tilly: You know bachelors. Besides, I may be a vampire, but that certainly doesn’t prevent me from being English. (She takes a sip of tea) So, what happened to Drusilla?
Spike: She left me, mum.
Tilly: So that’s what you didn’t want to tell me. I’m sorry. I really thought you two would settle down and raise hell together.
Spike: So did I.
There is silence as they sit and drink for a bit.
Tilly: I still have some old things of your father’s in the basement. Would you like to see if there’s anything you want?
Spike: Will you two be alright here?
Buffy: Go on. We’ll be fine. Loads to talk about.
Spike leaves, throwing them a worried glance on the way out. Buffy and Tilly sit in awkward silence reminiscent of when Spike first met Joyce..
Tilly: So… have you known William long?
Buffy: About four years.
More silence.
Tilly: How did you meet?
Buffy: He tried to kill me.
Tilly: Oh.
Even more silence.
Buffy: I don’t suppose you have … baby pictures?
Tilly jumps up, gets out an album, and sits next to Buffy. She starts explaining each picture. Both of them are laughing. A few minutes later, Spike comes back upstairs with a pocket watch and a cigarette case.
Spike (horrified): Mum!
Tilly: What dear?
Spike: What are you doing?
Tilly: Just going through some old albums.
Spike: But...but...
Buffy (holds up a picture of a young William in a sailor suit): Awww...think we should put this in the Watchers’ records? (Spike pulls it out of her hand, puts it back in the album, and slams the book closed.)
Spike: I think we should be going now. (He starts pulling Buffy up) Nice to see you Mum, and...I’ll be sure to call, or something.
Tilly (hugging him): Get home safe.
Spike walks out. Buffy turns to Tilly and they both look at each other for a moment, not knowing what to say. Tilly puts something in her hand and turns away.
End Part 1
Across the Pond
Part 2
The next morning, back at the bungalow, Spike is in the living room with the curtains drawn. He is in his jeans, with no shirt, lounging on the couch, smoking and watching Manchester United. Four Watchers walk in the front door without knocking, (including the female Watcher, previously seen in Sunnydale) and upon seeing Spike, they hold out a number of large crosses.
Spike: Is it time for mass already?
Watcher 1: Where’s Rupert? It’s time we discussed our progress.
Spike: He’ll be down in a minute, I’m sure.
Buffy (from the kitchen): Spike! Have you seen my other shoe?
Spike: It’s under the couch, pet. We have company.
Buffy: Tea company or crossbow company?
Spike: Watchers, Luv.
Buffy: Both then.
The Watchers stand there, horrified and flabbergasted, and await Giles’ presence. In a couple of minutes, Giles comes downstairs followed by the rest of the scoobies. Dawn is conspicuously absent.
Giles (to Spike): Who’s winning?
Spike: Manchester, of course!
As they are all getting seated, Buffy comes in carrying a tea tray with a crossbow slung over her back. She puts the tray down, and goes to dig her shoe out from under where Spike is sitting. After finding it, she sits as well.
Watcher 1: So, what have you discovered so far?
Giles: It appears that although in later days the Byzantine Knights and the monks were at odds, originally they were part of the same organization.
Willow: Yeah, the monk head honcho wrote these manuscripts...
Watcher 2: Abbott
Willow: ...right after they broke up with the knights.
Spike: We came all the way across the bleedin’ Atlantic for that gem? Brilliant.
Giles (clearing his throat): The schism was caused by a debate over how to best guard the key.
Xander: What, like traps versus mazes?
Everyone in the room looks at him.
Tara: No, like protect it or destroy it. The knights were tired of fighting losing battles whenever Glory discovered the key’s hiding place, which she always seemed to do. They decided the only way to keep it out of Glory’s hands was to destroy it.
Watcher 1: And the monks?
Giles: The monks have sworn to protect it. They believe if the key is destroyed, it might free Glory forever or create god knows what other cataclysmic effects.
Spike: So now we know the knights want to destroy it and the monks want to save it. Oh wait, that’s exactly what we knew before. Haven’t you discovered anything new sitting about in a musty old library for two days? (To the TV) Here, ref, that was a foul!
Giles (more to the Watchers than Spike): Not yet, but now we have an idea where to look for more pertinent information.
Watcher 1: So, where is or what is this key?
Buffy: Its safe.
Watcher 1: But don’t you...
Buffy (proffering crossbow): Its. Safe.
Watcher 1: Ah, yes. Well Rupert, you’re doing a bang-up job. Keep up the good work. We’ll just be going now. (They all start to leave)
Lady Watcher (to Spike, and blushing): Um, would you perhaps care to sign my thesis on you?
Spike (grinning): Yeah, alright. It’s nice to know someone appreciates all my hard work. (He writes “Hello Cutie! Love, Spike AKA William the Bloody”)
Lady Watcher (still blushing): Thank you so much. (She follows the other Watchers out.)
Buffy: So, there is one member in the Spike fan club after all. Does she get a monthly newsletter?
Spike: Jealous luv?
*************************************************************
Later that afternoon, Spike is still on the couch watching TV, and Giles is on the phone.
Giles: Um yes, hello Olivia, if you get this message, I am at.... (He finishes the message and hangs up looking discouraged.)
Spike: Lookin’ for a spot of snogging are we?
Giles: Shut up Spike.
Spike: Not your best comeback, mate. A bit off your feed?
Giles: I’m not in the mood.
Spike: It’s not my fault your lady friend doesn’t check her ansaphone. That’s what, three messages?
Giles (getting angry): Look, Buffy may be under the delusion that your being here is useful, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re nothing but an annoyance.
Spike: It’s her opinion that counts mate, not yours.
Giles (very angry now): Apparently so. I don’t suppose I can get you to abide by the no-fighting rule, since she seems to have lost all of her limited supply of common sense.
Spike: Told you did she? I didn’t think she had it in her.
Giles: Yes she told me, and as you may have guessed, I am less than pleased.
Spike: That seems to be putting it mildly. You hate this.
Giles: You’re bloody well right I do! I’m her Watcher – it’s my job to keep her safe!
Spike: Look, mate, how many times do I have to say this? I’m not going to hurt her. It’s got nothing to do with the bleeding chip; I don’t want to hurt her.
Giles: How can I possibly believe that?
Spike: Look Ripper you for one should understand taking the high road and all that.
Giles: Why should I believe you when you’re so eager to fight with her?
Spike: That’s not pain, that’s entertainment. I don’t care what you or any of the other bleedin’ scoobies think. I want to keep Buffy safe, and the rest of you lot can go to hell.
*************************************************************
Late that night in the backyard, Buffy and Spike are having a before-bedtime brawl.
Spike: Your Watcher’s (kick) less than thrilled (punch) with this happy turn of events.
Buffy: You talked to Giles about this? (Her incredulity not stopping her from picking Spike up and hurling him into the flowerbeds.)
Spike (picking himself up): Well, not so much talked as was lectured. (He runs up, grabs Buffy’s incoming fist, and punches her in the stomach.)
Buffy (bent over): You didn’t agree to stop did you?
Spike (holds his raised fist still): Are you mad? Give up punching the only thing I can? Not counting demons of course. (His fist connects with the back of her head.)
Buffy (Whipping up her head, and cracking him in the chin): Didn’t think so. Giles was only trying to... (She goes to punch him in the jaw)
Spike (blocking her): Yes, yes. Giles was only trying to help (punch.) Giles was only trying to protect you (punch.) I’ve heard it all before.
Buffy (sweeping his legs out from under him): Only about as many times as I’ve told them I trust you (tries to ram her foot into his solar plexus.) I am so tired of this (continues trying to step on Spike as he rolls away) Why can’t you people leave me out of your social problems?
Spike gives her an incredulous look as he is getting up a few feet away.
Buffy: Ok, wrong phraseage (does a series of spinning kicks, finally connecting with Spike) but this is getting seriously old. Why does nobody (punch) trust (punch) my judgement (punch)?
Spike: Because you count Xander (hits her with a particularly stunning blow) as one of your best mates.
Buffy (stops fighting and turns away): This is exactly what I’m talking about!
Spike (walks in front of her): Listen luv, there is nothing on this earth that’ll make me like Xander, and you don’t have to defend me. I can fight my own battles.
Buffy (pouting): Yeah, but lately when they’re attacking you, they’re attacking me. How did that happen?
Spike (gives her a cocky smile): Because you’ve finally succumbed to my incredible wit and charm?
Buffy: Or your mind numbing persistence.
Spike: Hey, whatever works.
Buffy smiles at him and then punches him so hard, he flips in the air before finally hitting the ground.
Spike (picking himself up): Now that’s more like it!
*************************************************************
The next morning, on Baker Street in London, Tara and Willow are just leaving the Sherlock Holmes Museum.
Willow: I still feel a little guilty leaving Giles alone with the Watchers.
Tara: He’ll be fine. We deserve a break too. Maybe he’ll even get more out of them with us gone.
Willow: Maybe...ooh! There’s the gift shop!
They cross the street and enter the shop.
Willow: This is so amazing! It seems like everything I’ve ever read about is in this country for real.
Tara (trying on a Sherlock Holmes cloak): I know.
Willow: Ooh! Magnifying glasses! Just what every Scooby needs! (She starts gathering up a bunch.)
Tara: Whoa there, Velma. Shouldn’t we just get one for the team?
Willow: Well, what if we’re split up and we all need to look for clues?
Tara (smiles): We’ll just have to use our amazing powers of deduction.
Willow (smiles back): I’m just not willing to take that chance.
Tara: Speaking of clues, do you really think we’re going to find anything helpful about the knights? Not that I mind the trip to London and all, but...
Willow: Yeah, I think we will. All we know about them now is that they have a one track mind and limited conversation skills. Anything would be an improvement.
Tara: What’s going to happen to Dawn?
Willow: Buffy’ll keep her safe.
Tara: What if she can’t?
Willow: I don’t want to think about that.
Tara: I don’t want to either, but we may have to. I mean like, what if we get rid of Glory, and Dawn lives to the ripe old age of 87, and dies of natural causes? What happens to the key then?
Willow: I don’t know, but I think we should do some Watcher-free research to try and figure out more about dimensional doors and how their keys work. And also how they turned the key into a person anyway.
Tara: Good idea Watson.
Willow: Hey! I’m not Watson, you’re Watson.
Tara: Am not! I’ve got the coat. And besides, I’m taller.
*************************************************************
Meanwhile, at the Bodleian, Xander, Anya and Giles are sitting amongst a pile of books with three Watchers hovering over them. Buffy is doing pull-ups from the rungs of one of the ladders.
Watcher 1: Please be careful.
Buffy: I’ll be fine.
Watcher 1: Those ladders are from 1862, they’re very valuable.
Buffy: No worries, they built things to last back then.
The Watcher turns away. After a few more repetitions, Buffy breaks off one of the rungs, and attempts to disguise the noise by coughing loudly. Everyone looks at her, but fails to notice the broken ladder. She surreptitiously hides the rung behind some books on a shelf and joins the group.
Giles: I think I found something here. According to these records, the Order of St. Theodore of Sykeon, (receives a blank look from Buffy) our friends the monks, was disbanded in 1128.
Xander: Someone obviously forgot to tell them.
Giles: Judging by reports of resurgences of Byzantine Knight activity in the vicinity of other monasteries, it is reasonable to assume that the order went underground, as it were.
Watcher 2: Don’t you think that’s rather an unwarranted assumption?
Giles (annoyed): In 1262, they attacked the Franciscans in Rome. In 1307, they attacked a Jesuit monastery outside of Galway, Ireland. In 1493, they attacked the Order of Jean Baptiste in the Loire Valley. Unless you prefer to assume that their distaste for monks had reached pathological proportions, Occam’s Razor would suggest that they were looking for something. Where better to hide monks than in a monastery?
Anya: Then where did they get new recruits if they were busy pretending to be something else?
Giles: They wouldn’t need many. The fewer there are, the safer the secret. All they would have to do is choose one or two of the new postulants to let in on the secret.
Buffy: So how did the knights keep finding them? Don’t all monks look the same, bad haircut, drab wardrobe, you know?
Giles: I’m not sure, but I do have a hypothesis.
Watcher 3(condescendingly): Oh, do tell, Rupert.
Giles (shoots him an annoyed look): It seems, from some of the rather cryptic references, that the key was disguised as a number of different items. Perhaps the knights were able to detect and home in on the transition.
Watcher 1: That’s rather far fetched.
Giles: Would you care to share any of your ideas?
Watcher 1: Well, yes actually. I think if you told us what form the key has taken, that we could...
Buffy (cuts him off by grabbing his shoulder very tightly): I don’t think that’s really important now, do you?
Watcher 1 (squeaking): No, I guess not. Silly ramblings, really. (Buffy removes her hand and claps him on the back, causing him to lurch forward a bit.)
Anya: So are there any of these monks left? Maybe we can talk to them.
Giles: Perhaps, but somehow I don’t think they would have ah-surrendered their guardianship to the Slayer if any of them remained to carry on the task.
Watcher 2: This is all fascinating speculation, but what practical information have you uncovered?
Giles (very exasperated now): We should know more in a day or two. Perhaps we would get on quicker if you would do more than stand about making supercilious comments.
Buffy: Yeah, what he said.
Watcher 2: Just get on with it Rupert. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can go home.
Xander: Mister, you just said the magic words.
*************************************************************
Much later that night, everyone is asleep back at the Watcher retreat. Spike creeps softly into Dawn’s room, goes over to her bed, and gently prods her.
Dawn: Wha...?
Spike (whispering): Shh. C’mon, it’s time.
Dawn (still mostly asleep): Ehh?
Spike: You wanted to see England? Now’s you chance pet, let’s go.
He drags her out of bed, manages to convince her to dress herself, and meet him downstairs when she is done. He then takes the car keys from Giles’ coat pocket. They get into the rental van and start to drive.
Dawn (less sleepy and more excited): Where are you taking me?
Spike: You’ll see.
A bit later on, they pull up to a dock on the banks of the Thames. Spike gets out and starts to pick the lock on a small boathouse. When he manages to open it, he goes in and comes out with a pole, motioning Dawn to join him at the dock’s edge. They get into a punt, and Spike poles them away from shore.
Dawn: This is so beautiful.
Spike: Yeah. Dru and I used to come here after snackin’ on a couple of pissed undergrads.
Dawn (sarcastically): How romantic.
Spike: Yeah, wasn’t it? Now isn’t this better than sitting around a stuffy old bungalow?
Dawn: Oh yeah, especially since Buffy makes me hide under the bed everytime the Watchers come in.
Spike: You’re not missing much, they’re a bunch of pillocks. Ah! You see that tree right over there?
Dawn: Uh-huh.
Spike: That’s where I had my first taste of clergyman. Bit bland really, and the collar gets stuck in your teeth. Had quite a good spaniel, though.
Dawn (horrified): You ate a dog?!
Spike: What?
Dawn: That’s so inhumane!
An hour or two later, they are at Broughton Castle. Spike has hoisted Dawn up, and is pushing her through an open window.
Spike: Almost got it, there you go! (He pushes her through)
Dawn (falls with a thud): Ow.
Spike (climbing up and following her through): You all right pet?
Dawn: I’ll live, but next time let’s see how far down the floor is first. Shouldn’t we be sneaking and whispering?
Spike: Nah, the family’s wing is miles away, and these old places are built solid.
They begin taking a private tour of the castle. They pass the standard suits of armor, and many tapestries. There is a long hallway filled with family portraits, all the women looking thin and nervous, all the men with red noses, looking like they suffer from gout. There is at least one dog in every painting. There are several bedrooms, each decorated in a different time period, dressed mannequins included, ranging from Medireview to Elizabethan to Regency to Victorian. When they reach the Victorian room, they step over the ropes and go to get a better look.
Dawn (reading the placard next to the bed): This is the original bed in which James Fairley, Lord Gainsborough, died in 1885, having sustained a fatal wound in a duel over an unnamed lady’s honor.
Spike: Now that’s all a load of crap! Lord James was a bleedin’ poof, he died in this very bed all right, after one too many visits to the gents club if you know what I mean.
Dawn: Not really.
Spike: Never mind, just don’t believe everything you read. Freddy, that was the old lord, tried to hush the whole thing up. He’d have been livid to see it stuck up on the wall in a notice.
Dawn (starting to take dress off a mannequin and putting it on): How did they ever get these things on?
Spike: They had maids. Turn ’round, I’ll help you. It’s not gonna close though, they wore those rib-cracking contraptions all stuffed full of whalebone. And people call me sadistic!
Dawn (spins around): How do I look?
Spike (smiles): Good enough to eat.
Dawn (grabs a top hat off the male mannequin): Here, try this on.
Spike (holds up hands and backs away): No thanks, I’ve already done the memory lane thing. Let’s go; time to hit the gift shop.
Dawn (after Spike is picks the lock and they enter gift shop): Should we be doing this? What if we get caught?
Spike: It’s not like the MI-5 has either of our fingerprints or anything. (He looks around for a bit, goes behind the counter, gets a small box and hands it to Dawn) Here, I got this for you.
Dawn (She opens it to find a small replica coat of arms on a thin silver chain): Awww thanks. Hold on a minute. (She runs across the store, and brings back a T-shirt that says, “Oxford is for lovers.”) I got this for you.
Spike: Just what I’ve always wanted.
Even later, the two of them are seated in an all-night caff.
Dawn (looking at her plate uncertainly): Eew. Baked beans and eggs?
Spike: It’s proper English breakfast luv, just mop it up with your toast.
Dawn: At least it’s better than what you’ve got. What is that black stuff?
Spike: Blood pudding.
Dawn (looks around worriedly and whispers): Is this a vampire diner?
Spike (laughing): No, just your Standard English cuisine.
Dawn: No wonder the Pilgrims left.
*************************************************************
A few minute before sunrise, the loud Sex Pistols music coming from the van abruptly cuts off as they pull up the drive. They open the doors, and smoke pours out. The two of them sneak quietly into the dark living room, trying not to alert anyone, when Buffy turns on the light.
Buffy: Where have you two been? I was worried sick!
Spike: Ok mum. I was just doing as you asked; keepin’ the little bit occupied.
Buffy: Do you know what time it is?
Spike: Well, it’s not like I can take her on a bloody day trip! Besides, I left a note.
Buffy: Where?
Spike: On the fridge. (Goes to get it) See – “Nibblet and I on a sight-seeing tour. Don’t wait up. –Spike.”
Buffy: Good thinking. I know the first thing I always do when I discover my sister is missing is go for a midnight snack. Or, check for considerate notes left by vampires.
Spike: Well, what would you have me do then?
Buffy: You could have told me!
Dawn: I’m going to bed guys.
Spike: You were asleep!
Buffy: That never stopped you before!
Dawn: Guys? Going to bed?
Spike: Yeah well, I didn’t want to startle you and get a stake through the heart. Or another lecture!
Dawn shrugs, and goes upstairs.
Buffy: You know how I worry about Dawn!
Spike: She’s safe with me!
Buffy: I didn’t know she was with you!
Spike: Well, I wasn’t here, was I?
Buffy: But...Argh! I’m going back to bed; some of us have to be up in the morning. Don’t do that again!
Spike (overly sweet): Pleasant dreams! (He turns on the TV.)
*************************************************************
The next afternoon, everyone has gone off on a shopping trip, leaving Giles and Spike in the house together. Giles is on the phone with the Watchers as Spike comes in to heat up a cup of blood in the microwave. He is wearing the T-shirt Dawn gave him.
Giles: Yes...yes...we’re almost done. One more day should do it. (Exasperated) We’ll be there later this evening. Some of us do have to rest you know. Yes...fine. Thank you. (He slams down the phone.) Useless arrogant sods!
Spike: That’s telling ‘em! Though it works better if you don’t hang up first.
Giles: Yes, thank you Spike.
Spike: So, what have the gits done now?
Giles: They...why do you care?
Spike: I don’t really. Just making conversation. Though I sympathize with anyone who has to deal with paper pushers. I once bled a taxman dry just on basic principle. Wasn’t even hungry at the time.
Giles: While I recognize the poetic justice, I would have preferred that you didn’t share.
Spike: Why all this aggro anyway? I thought you were back on the Council of Wankers.
Giles: Technically yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to walk around with my head up my ass.
Spike: Could’ve fooled me.
Giles (getting angry): Now wait just...
Spike: That’s right, act like you haven’t been all king on high, locking your precious princess away in her tower so she won’t break.
Giles: She deserves the best.
Spike (with cocky grin): Well, I’m right here mate.
Giles: You’re hardly the best. You’re not even marginally adequate. You’re a vampire for god’s sake!
Spike: Why do you people keep pointing that out? It’s not as if I don’t know.
Giles: Perhaps if we reiterate it often enough, you’ll bear it in mind.
Spike: How could I forget? And why would I want to?
Giles: I saw what she suffered with Angel. I will not have her go through that again!
Spike: Now wait just a bleedin’ minute! You can call me any number of names...
Giles: Thank you, I will.
Spike: ...but don’t ever compare me to the Moping Machine! Have you ever seen me sulk, brood, not change my facial statement for days at a time? At least I know what I am!
Giles: Yes. An evil vampire.
Spike: Yes! No! Things aren’t that black and white, haven’t you learned that yet? Rest assured, with me, Buffy will never wake up to find a surprise monster in her bed.
Giles: A) you won’t be in her bed. B) There may be no surprise, but there’s definitely a monster.
Spike: Exactly mate. All of me, monster included, loves Buffy and wants to take care of her. Sound familiar?
Giles: Faintly, I suppose, but...
Spike: But what?
Giles: But Buffy deserves a normal life. Or as normal a life as possible, with someone who believes her life’s work is worth doing. And preferably, can go out in the sunlight without burning to a crisp.
Spike: That’s what you want for her, mate. Don’t blame you, really. And we all know what I want. But she’s gonna do what she wants. Once she figures out what that is. I’m tired of arguing about this. Why don’t we call it a draw and concentrate on something productive...like our mutual dislike of Xander.
Giles smiles reluctantly.
Spike: You know, I found a Zorro mask in his luggage. Hid it from him, too.
Giles: I didn’t want to know that.
Spike: Believe me, neither did I. Look, much as it pains me to admit it, you and I seem to have a lot in common at the moment. We both want to protect the Slayer, we both want to protect Dawn, we both want to throw the Watcher’s Council through a stained glass window and we’re both getting a decent meal for the first time in years, and I’m not talking about blood. We’re also both sick of being cooped up in a small house with a bunch of people who can’t even remember Pink Floyd.
Giles (reluctantly smiles again): Fine. But if you hurt Buffy in any way, I’ll kill you. And one more thing, I’m never watching Passions again.
*************************************************************
The next day, the Watchers have been invited over yet again for a research summit. Everyone is gathered in the living room, minus Dawn of course. The Watchers are still holding their gigantic crosses.
Watcher 1: Rupert, I trust you’ve called us here for a good reason.
Giles: We’re finished – good enough?
Watcher 1: Quite. What have you found?
Giles: The Byzantine Knights formed their home base in Cornwall shortly after they parted ways with the order, and have remained there ever since.
Xander: Is that where they keep all their treasure, like the Ark of the Covenant and stuff?
Willow (shushing him, as all eyes turn his way): That’s the Templars!
Xander: Oh, sorry.
Giles: If I may continue, Zorro. (Xander’s face enflames) We have discovered several possible enclaves in the states under the guise of various fraternal organizations...
Xander: What, like hazing and keggers?
Giles: No, like the Shriners.
Xander: Oh, fezzes and tiny cars. Way more dignified.
Giles [shoots him a look]: Historically, the knights have never numbered more than two hundred, and since there are substantially fewer at the Cornwall facility, we can hope that they’ve adhered to that restriction.
Watcher 1: Why on earth would the Byzantine Knights have their main branch here?
Willow: We’re not exactly sure, but maybe because Byzantium doesn’t exist anymore?
Watcher 2: Will they help us fight against Glory?
Willow: From what we’ve found, they’re pretty dead-set on destroying the key. We think they’ll fight her if they have no other option, but I doubt they’ll help us track her down.
Tara: Especially if they think we’re hiding the key from them.
Watcher 3: You should certainly continue to do so. I believe the Order of St. Theodore had it right. One does not destroy any magical item without being fully aware of all the consequences.
Spike (muttering): Yeah, like the bleedin’ Gem of Amara. Someone could’ve used that...
Watcher 1: What was that?
Spike: Shut up you.
*************************************************************
The next day, Buffy and company are on the plane headed for home. Once again, Giles is reluctantly sharing a row with Xander and Anya, and Buffy, Dawn, Willow and Tara have a center aisle of four to themselves. Willow is studying a yellowing piece of paper, and Buffy is looking intently at a magazine.
Dawn (pointing to Willow’s page): What’s that?
Willow: Uh, a little souvenir.
Dawn (looks at it for a moment): You stole a page from a library book!? Isn’t that like sacrilegious for you?
Willow: It was for a good cause.
Dawn: So what is it?
Willow (somewhat trepidatious): It’s the spell the monks used to turn you into...you.
Dawn (looks freaked out, but mingled with curiosity): Really?
Willow: Yeah. They had changed the key’s, I mean your form over the years to keep it hidden, and well, this is how they did it.
Dawn: Are you planning on turning me into a frog or something?
Tara: No! We just didn’t think it was the kind of thing the Watchers should have lying around. Especially since they don’t know you’re a people.
Dawn: Can I have it? It’s not that I don’t trust you guys, it just weirds me out that I might wake up as something else.
Willow: I don’t think that’s a good idea, Dawnie. Glory knows where you live – right Buffy?
Buffy (jerks her head up, and turns her magazine away from view): What? Oh yeah, right.
Dawn (tries to peer at what Buffy’s looking at): What’s that?
Buffy: Nothing. (She closes the magazine carefully on the picture of a young William in a sailor suit.)