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Title: Burning Bright
Author: by Anya
Email: amclerie@globalserve.net
Author Notes:
Please read in order the following if you have not already done so:
Sanctuary
On My Way Home
Twilight's Children
Seeking Asylum
Previous parts can be found at
http://www.slayerfanfic.com/Anya/sseries.html

Spoilers: All of Buffy tVS Season 3 and 4. This story is a "future"fic
in the not so distant future.

Distribution: If you've archived previous parts of the Sanctuary Series,
fine. Otherwise, ask permission.

Disclaimer: The characters of BtVS are exclusive property of Joss
Whedon, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, Warner Bros, etc. Everybody and
the kitchen sink EXCEPT moi. No profit is being made or garnered by the
writing of this fic.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Burning Bright, Story Five in the Sanctuary Series:


'And I thought the Hellmouth was dangerous!' Angel would have fanned
himself were it not for the minor details that vampires didn't
technically sweat. On a physical level, sure that was true, but when
was the last time a vampire had faced the psychological pressure such as
this?

On one side was Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Beautiful, blond, deadly and
his former significant other, the Slayer had certain - expectations.
The most significant was to somehow get Her Slayerness into a Sanctuary
club. 'I liked Hell more. Far more peaceful. Less trauma. Certainly
less potential loss of body parts.' He sighed silently, glancing down
at the fierce frown that marred Buffy's pretty face.

Sure, it seemed simple. Do as the Slayer wants. As far as Buffy could
see, there was no problem. 'A-ha! So wrong, my dear little stake-happy
sweetheart!' Angel mentally wagged a finger at her. 'If I kick down
the doors, bypass two hefty looking bouncers and let you in, not only
will ever vampire, witch, werewolf and other thing that goes bump in the
day or night be after my hide, I'll have broken the law of sanctuary.
And the next time I need an emergency roof over my head, or a quick
bite, I'm oh so this side of royally screwed.'

His choices were looking more and more unappealing the more he thought
about it. If he didn't do as Buffy wanted, she'd stake him. If he DID
do as Buffy wanted, the rest of the non-human world staked him. 'I
should have stayed in LA.'

"What are we waiting for? The maitre de?" Buffy growled, interrupting
Angel mid-sigh. "We have got to get in there."

'A quarter. I could flip a quarter and have a glimpse of my immediate
future. That being, who's gonna kill me. Her or them. Terrific.'
Angel opened his mouth, but the tongue had no clue as to what it should
wag out. "Uhh…"

Buffy's frown deepened, if that were possible, tilting her head up, her
eyes sparkled with the killing fury of her destiny. "What aren't you
telling me?" She demanded, Mr. Pointy tapping hard and furiously
against her upper arm.

"We need reservations, right?" Xander muttered, trying to stay tucked in
the shadows and out of Buffy's sight. "Or, there are no vamps there?
We're at the wrong place? Or, he's allergic to nightclubs, which is why
he moved to the nightclub capital of the world."

"Shuddup, Xander. You're not helping." Buffy didn't even flick a
glance at him. Her biting words were enough of a warning. Unwavering
eyes pinned into Angel. "We. Are. Going. In. There. Understand?"

"Uhhh…" Angel fumbled for an answer. Some days he regretted his unlife
more than others. "Well, Buffy-." It was a question of faith. Or,
more precisely, hope. Hope that her love for him was stronger than the
itch to stake him. "Actually, no. We aren't."

She froze. For a moment, Angel took that as a good sign, but then her
eyes narrowed to mere slits, and he felt hell freeze over. 'Oooh, boy.
Here it comes. Oblivion.'

"Don't stake him, Buffy!" Angel's most unlikely defender threw himself
at the Slayer. "You're angry, sure. But if you stake him, then you
won't have someone to sob on my shoulder about and… that would be a bad
thing."

Angel twisted a glare at Xander, only the nervous situation at hand
preventing him from rolling his eyes. The boy, feeling Angel's
attention on him, shrugged. "What? She's tough, strong, bright,
beautiful - she doesn't need a townie like me around. I take what I can
get, thank you very much."

Atypical Xanderness, Angel realized. Always, his selfish obsession for
Buffy manifested at the worst times. "We don't have time for this." He
let the vampire in him out for a small growl. "Willow's in there, and
there's no way, short of leveling the place, I can get you in there."

Buffy nodded briskly. "It's a plan. I can work with it."

"No you can't." Angel argued. "What do you think they'll do to Willow
if you start storming the place?"

She froze, her eyes flicking over towards the black enameled doors for a
long moment, before sliding back to meet Angel's. "They'd kill her."
She whispered, realizing now why Angel was holding back. "If they
haven't already."

Angel shook his head. "They haven't. They can't. She's a witch."

Xander snorted, dusting off one sleeve. "Since when was that a
guarantee to long life and prosperity. Sign me up for the next local
coven if that's part of the deal."

In two centuries, Angel had mastered many skills, but it had been only
within the past two years he'd actually learned to suffer and not beat
the shit out of little gnats like Xander that irritated him. Maybe it
was because Buffy had a genuine fondness for Xander, or that Xander
wouldn't survive the beating enough to be hit again. Whatever it was,
it took every ounce of Angel's willpower not to shake the boy until his
teeth rattled out. "Don't be stupid." He snarled. "A Sanctuary is a
place of safety to all non-humans. There are rules, and if someone -"

"Thing," Buffy interjected with her atypical human prejudice.

"-something breaks those rules, then they're banned for eternity from
any of the Sanctuaries. Ever. The most important rule is that there is
no hunting or causing intentional harm to another on the premises.'

Buffy shook her head. "Nice, but that doesn't stop me from getting in."

"That's not the only rule, Buffy. Only non-humans get in. Only night
creatures. No humans, no demon-hunters and no Slayers." Folding his
arms across his chest, he tried to look authoritative. And, where the
look worked on Cordelia or Xander, it failed on Buffy who had an
inherent disregard for authority. "There'll be spells to strip you of
your powers before you even step up to the door, Buffy. And they WILL
kill you."

"But you said-" Xander squawked.

Angel did roll his eyes, this time. "Hello? Human!" He snapped,
jerking his thumb towards Buffy.

Buffy's eyes shot wide. "Oh my God." She gasped. "Angel!"

"You finally get it." He sighed, feeling tension draining from him.

"What has she done to you? You even SOUND like Cordelia now!"

He blew a gust of breath out in defeat. "Or not."

*~*~*~*

Willow was on a terrific emotional high. Her soul was screaming in joy
for the freedom, and her heart was doing a happy-dance. Clutching a
glass of cranberry juice in soda water against her chest, she wove her
way through the crowds, laughing and smiling in greeting to all the
people she knew and the creatures she didn't know.

The place was awesome. Simply and truly beautiful in the décor and
style, the club used ambiance to create character and life to the entire
club. Where there were elements of gothic themes in the pillars and
heavy velvet curtains that covered windowless walls, Spike had gone to
lengths to add soft touches of light, and clever usage of glass to
brighten the interior. There was also a healthy amount of greenery
bespeckling the sweeping columns that broke up the massive open spaces
in the dance-area.

But, the most astonishing thing of all, as far as Willow was concerned,
and the most mesmerizing was in the way stars seemed to glitter off of
the black velvet that covered the ceiling. Small pinpricks of light
glittered and danced as she looked up, and she knew that in a drunken
haze, those lights would feel like real stars in an open night sky.
"Cool!" She sighed, contented with this new playground in her own back
yard.

"So, you like it, Pet?" Spike's cool voice broke into her reverie with
open amusement just seconds before his hand slid to rest at the small of
her back. "I did build it all for you, you know."

Willow stepped backwards to lean against his torso, a giggle erupting
from the back of her throat despite her attempt to stifle it. Green
eyes dancing, she tilted her head back and gazed into Spike's pale blue
eyes. "For me? Wow. No one's every built a club for me before!"

It wasn't the air in the club, or the scent Spike gave off that
explained the way Willow completely relaxed in his presence. All her
inner-alarm bells were silent, her subconscious had no fears. If
anything, right here, and right now she had implicit trust that she
couldn't be any safer than being in Spike's arms. "So, now that I'm
here… now what?"

Spike's dark eyebrow arched, the small smirk on his lips unnerving to
anyone he called prey. "Now, pet?" One finger stroked along the column
of her neck and then trailed down along her collarbone. "Enjoy
yourself-while you can."

Willow smiled coyly, turning swiftly so that she could hook one hand
into his belt and lean against him, her breasts pressed against his
chest. Standing up on tiptoe with a slow sensuous movement, she gently
pressed a kiss against his fanged mouth and slid her glass into his
hand. "Oh, I will, Spike. I'll have a grand old time in my own
backyard and then I'll go home all safe and sound with nary a nibble on
my neck."

"What's to stop me from biting you after you leave?" Spike lifted his
free hand to stroke a thumb under her chin, lifting her jaw to expose
the neck. "There might be a price for this club, one that you have to
pay, pet."

Willow shrugged easily, a lazy smile on her lips. "You won't bite me.
You've lured me out of my hole, exposed me to Buffy and them all, but
you won't hurt me."

Spike glared at her, refusing to react to the way she teased. So, the
little chit had figured him out. "Don't get too cocky, pet. Vampires
are always hungry."

Willow shrugged. "Sure." She blew his statement off indifferently.
"But, just as Vampires are always hungry, I'm always a witch. What
would you do if your hunger suddenly went south, hmm?"

Patting him on the cheek, she slipped out from under his arm, and merged
with the crowd, leaving her one-time lover something far more dangerous
to consider. Just because he had been playing a game with her, didn't
mean she wasn't aware of it and playing one of her own. "Oh, pet." He
sighed, blissfully happy with the score. "Now, this WILL be fun."

Looking down at the red-tinged drink in his hand, he gave it a tentative
sip, but shuddered at the sweetly tart taste. 'No salt to it. Watery.
I think I need a pint of O+ to clear that taste out of my mouth.'

Carelessly tossing the glass over his shoulder, he heard the glass
shatter into the wall and smirked at an outraged shriek. Just because
the club was a Sanctuary didn't mean it had to be utterly civilized. In
fact, given the kind of games he wanted to play with Willow,
civilization was the last thing on his mind. "I'm gonna get myself that
witch." He hummed cheerfully, ignoring the odd looks of his staff and
other vampires.

Sliding past guests, Spike nodded cordially to some vampires he knew
that were lounging on the soft red-leather sofas at the fringe of the
dance-floor. Elegant glass and metal cocktail tables held their
beverages, and even with a few meters between himself and the vamps, he
knew the glasses contained exactly his favorite type of brew. It just
had the fancy look of a mixed drink, right down to the lime twist and
umbrella decorating the glass. 'I bet even the Slayer would
accidentally knock that glass back before she realized what it was.'

The bar was hopping, a deep crowd clustered around and the bartenders
hustling to serve them all. The difference between this club and a
human one was that the bartenders here didn't offer advice, just a snarl
or growl. The perfect and appropriate behaviors to further the ambiance
of Spike's little club. "Ahh," he sighed. "Death is so very good."

"For some of you." Willow's bemused voice bantered at his elbow, her
hand sliding into his easily. "Where's my drink?"

"Back again?" Spike pulled her close, abandoning her hand to place an
arm around her waist. Deliberately tugging her in front of him, he
licked at her neck. "Can't get enough of me, Red?"

Willow rolled her eyes, waving off a few of the community she knew who'd
started in alarm. "Hardly. I just want my drink back." Deftly, she
wove her fingers in a simple incantation, the sigil flowing free and
successfully based on Spike's sudden choked cough. "Don't lick without
permission, Spike." She teased, undoing the spell that had made her
skin taste as horrid as Holy Water to the vampire.

"Witch." Spike growled, immeasurably pleased at the games between them.
"If I can't lick you, then you lick me." He ordered, his beast gleaming
wickedly from his eyes.

Willow smiled, setting her green eyes dancing. With one of his hands on
her bottom, the skirt was inching precariously higher, and yet she
didn't care. "Ask nicely." She purred, pressing herself against him.
He made the most satisfying growl.

"Now."

Her fingers stroked down his chest, nearly tearing the shirt he was
wearing into ribbons with the sharp action. Spike sucked in his
breath. "Please." He recanted, conceding the round to her.

His reward wasn't long in coming, warm lips touching cold and parting
easily. If only the most holy poof could see his son now…

*~*~*~*

Angel nearly thumped his head against the brick wall outside the club
entrance. "What do you mean I have to wait?" He growled at the
incredibly naïve and very young vampire standing belligerently in front
of him. The whelp couldn't have been more than five years old.

"You gotta wait, man. We're at max capacity, the boss said so." The
whelp snarled. Okay, sure, the kid was six foot three and probably
weighed in at just under 300lbs. Sure he was built like a brick
shit-house, but damn it, was there no respect for age and power in the
undead community anymore?

"The boss said so?" Angel grumbled, hoping Buffy wasn't seeing this. It
would be the last straw for that camel's back, and he knew it.
Convincing her to let him infiltrate the club without her had been
challenging enough. It just didn't pay to be a good guy, sometimes.

Vampire-junior grunted sourly. "Yeah, the boss. You got a problem with
that?"

What were the odds? Angel pondered staring at the whelp. First, Spike
was in San Francisco when he'd formerly been in Los Angeles. Just
because they didn't have a healthy sire-childe relationship didn't mean
Angel neglected to keep tabs on where Spike was at all times.

So… Spike was now in San Francisco and had moved here precisely twelve
weeks ago, exactly from the time it was announced that the night-council
had authorized the opening of another Sanctuary location in San
Francisco. Chance? Not bloody likely.

What were the odds indeed? "Let me tell you a little something about
your Boss." Angel tossed the soul to the side and let his demon out for
a romp. "William Longstreet, also known as Spike was sired by Angelus.
Do you know of Angelus?"

The whelp sneered. "No."

Angel's hand whipped out and closed around the bouncer's throat
squeezing tightly. "You do now."

The bouncer's neck made a very satisfying "snap", and he fell
beautifully. Angel looked around for any witnesses to his slight
indiscretion and shrugged casually. Accidents happened all the time in
San Fran, didn't they? How was a besouled vampire supposed to stop it
if other vampires just… vanished… in a town that had the world's
preeminent Slayer.

"So, I can just go right in, right?" He asked the pile of dust at his
feet. There was no answer forthcoming. "Great." Angel jerked the
heavy door open and slunk inside embracing the sudden awareness of all
other supernatural creatures surrounding him. This environment was far
more comfortable, far more relaxing for an individual such as he was.

There was no sensation of risk, the fear that he would again fall from
grace wasn't to be found in this place. There were no human's to prey
upon, beverages acceptable to his palate were free, and there was the
subconscious encouragement to just chill. Relax. Enjoy. "Not in this
lifetime." Angel growled, his face sinking into a dark brooding frown.

First off, there was the décor. It was dark, erotic, seductive and far
to damn inhuman for Angel's tastes. It shrieked sex, sin and other bad
things that no self-respecting and repentative Catholic boy was ever
supposed to see. 'This way lays the path of corruption.' Angel firmly
told himself, ignoring the happy laughter of a young vampiress as she
through her arms around an equally young werewolf in cheerful reunion.

Absolutely no good could come of this place. Really.

"Drink, sir?" The waitress slipped by, a pretty little demon wearing a
rather conservative top with pants. She held out a loaded tray of
various drinks, the blood-wines easily detectable from the non-bloody
vintages. "We have O, A, AB and some rich demon varieties of blood
available. All-you-can-drink for the grand opening, you know."

'See?' Angel growled silently as he sipped his drink a few minutes
later. 'There was absolutely NOTHING good to come of this place.' On
an upside, he had to also admit in his deepest, darkest corner of his
mind, there was no Buffy staring at him and no Xander making his
eyeteeth itch. Nothing was overtly tempting to send him straight back
to hell.

Just some witches, werewolves, demons and vampires all partying hearty,
getting it on in corners or the dance-floor. 'That looks like fun.'
Angel's subconscious pushed the thought out as he watched the dancing.
'I can't dance.' He consciously reminded himself. 'It's a bad thing.'

Oh sure, those slower dances back at the Bronze with Buffy were doable.
Especially since it was move one foot, shuffle the other. Move one
foot, shuffle the other. Again and again in an endlessly repetitive
cycle until a complete circle was made. Move one foot, shuffle the
other.

Dead easy. Especially for the corpse doing the dancing.

His feet apparently didn't hear his mind. Another step towards the
dance-floor was taken. Then a hesitant second step. A third.

"Dahling…. Dance with me!" A very tipsy ghoul slid his/her hand around
Angel's neck and pulled him clear onto the floor, pressing it's body
tight against his. It's squishy, moist and rather rubbery body that
was. "I haven't seen you in here before!" Angel's dance partner
drawled, apparently oblivious to the fact this was opening night or
using the world's lamest pick-up line.

Angel cringed as fetid breath reached his nose. 'No closer. Please no
closer. I'm begging you…'

"Salchan!" Another squishy demon appeared at their side in indignant
outrage. "How could you!" Arms, at least that's what Angel thought
they were, waving violently sent splatters of the fleshy gloop spraying
onto people. "You're always cheating on me! Always! Don't I mean
anything to you?"

Salchan's grip loosened on Angel, and he judiciously stepped backwards,
right into the very furry and fussy body of a werewolf. "It can't get
any worse." Angel muttered, hastily apologizing to the growling and
incredibly large werewolf in front of him. "Nothing else could shock me
at this point."

"Hey you!" A pert voice screamed shrilly. "When you're done hugging the
dog, I wanta talk to you."

Angel's eyes flicked sideways to a four foot pixie with light gossamer
wings and several leaves as garments. "Uh…"

"It's for an article in our weekly magazine 'The Undead'. You ARE on
our subscription list, right?" The fairy continued.

"Uh…" Somehow, this was all Spike's fault. Angel wasn't sure of much
else, right now, but that this entire scenario was all Spike's fault.
'I'm going to severely punish that childe.'

"You AREN'T!" The fairy gasped, fanning her face with one wing. "Oh!
Oh! Sic 'em Fido!" Hands on hips and looking imperious she gave the
werewolf directly in front of Angel a commanding stare to match tone of
voice.

Fido, being the good werewolf that he was, dutifully growled in a low
voice at the vampire. "I thought there was no threats of violence
permitted in a sanctuary." Angel breathed nervously as he leaned
backwards to avoid the muzzle that came closer.

Pixie blinked. "Oh. Right." She giggled. "Down, Fido. No biting
until we're outside."

Fido, again a good werewolf, backed down immediately. "I'm just
guessing here," Angel admitted, watching the werewolf with due caution,
"But, is he yours?"

The fairy fluttered closer, wrapping two tiny arms around the werewolf's
neck. "Well, of course he is. See? He's even got a collar."

Angel nodded. If ever he'd wished the oracles to roll back time, this
was it. Because, if he had the chance, he'd go with Buffy's "storm the
place" approach. It had to be more sane.

*~*~*~*

"Pet…could we take this to the office?" Spike queried as Willow's hands
slipped under his T-shirt for a quick tour of his chest. As fond as he
was of open displays of lust, there were some things that should be kept
private. Like a vampire's submission to a witch. He did have a
reputation to protect.

It was okay when it was Drusilla turning him into a slobbering
sex-craved moron - Dru was a vampire and delightfully insane. There was
no stigma attached to a public ravishment at the hands of his vampire
lover.

However, a human? Big, bad, railroad "Spike', killer of three Slayers,
ex-Master of Sunnydale and only known Master vampire to survive an
encounter with this generation's Slayer was turning into a giant
wuss-boy for one small witch.

It just wasn't right, he told himself. Get some backbone, mate. Be a
vamp. Shove her hard against a wall, grrr at her and then drag her back
to the office. Don't beg. No pleading. There was his way or…

Spike groaned in ecstatic agony as Willow's small teeth nicked gently at
his throat, pulling at the pale skin before biting down. Cor, but the
chit knew exactly how to turn a vamp to jelly, didn't she? "Please?"
Spike begged, his hands clutching onto her for support.

A soft sigh tore from her mouth, and she pulled away. Bright eyes
glowing with open lust, she smiled coyly. "Do you really think that's
smart?"

Spike nodded feverishly. "Yes. I do. Very. So, could we get this
show on?"

Willow shook her head, red locks of hair flying gently from the action.
Pursing her lips thoughtfully, she tilted her head to give him a
mischievous little expression before saying "No."

"No?" Shamefully, his voice squeaked. Five minutes of her tender loving
ministrations and Spike had a small - no, nix that - a BIG problem
needing immediate attention. "Aww… ducks, it's been three flamin'
months. Don't you think…"

Willow shrugged. "No." She cut him off. "Because I think Angel, over
there, is likely to cause a scene at any time now… once he escapes Talia
and her puppy."

"Angel?"

"Dark haired, broody, angst-ridden, soulful vampire. You remember him?"
Willow teased, pushing Spike's jaw until he looked somewhat over his
shoulder at the dance-floor. "Looking a little like
Alice-in-Wonderland."

Eyes narrowed, widened and then narrowed into outraged slits. "Awwww…
BUGGER!" He growled, firmly pushing Willow from his arms and setting her
discretely behind him. "Why here? Why now? Why me? What did I do so
BAD in life to earn that Poof as a Sire?"

"Railroad spikes?" Willow hazarded a guess, leaning around to peer at
Spike's parental figure. "I'm just guessing here."

Spike's lips quirked. "Hush. Or I'll drain you."

Against his back, he felt Willow shrug and then move away. "Whatever."
The little witch sing-songed. "I'm going to go talk with some friends.
Go play with Angel. Before the elves over there send him further into
la-la land."

Spike's lips pursed together. 'How would Angel loosing the rest of his
marbles be a bad thing?' He wondered absently. He already had the grand
high title of ultimate poof. What marbles were left to loose? "Oh,
bullocks. One fruitcake per family is enough. At the rate this is
going, even Dru's gonna make an appearance to bugger my plans all up."

Stomping one booted foot in a fit of temper, he grabbed a passing waiter
and claimed three drinks, one after another and drained them. A childe
needed fortification before facing the parent that stressed them the
most, after all. "Wot?" He barked at the nervously hovering waiter, a
witch who'd obviously not been overly exposed to vampires. "Don't yer
have peoples to serve?"

The waiter scampered off leaving Spike to his perusal of his Sire. Now,
if Willow kept a low profile, maybe he could convince Daddy Dearest to
bugger off. If she didn't keep a low profile, well… hopefully she could
convince Angel to bugger off. Either way there was a 50-50 shot of all
Spike's aspirations and goals for tonight going up in smoke.

Some nights sucked. And not the kind of suckage a vampire liked. "This
is all the Slayer's fault." He muttered. "I just know that Blonde bimbo
is involved. Hell, I bet she's in here somewhere. Is nothing sacred?"

Not quite stomping, but placing the mental "feel" of a good stomp into
his action, he strode purposefully through the crowds, jumping over the
low rail dividing the upper floor from lower in the slight tiers between
dance floor and serving area.

The crowded gathering of various undead creatures kept all vampires
unaware of another's approach. It was rather like being in a car
accident. You didn't know you were going to get hit until you were
hit. 'Analogy's oddly appropriate, now ain't it, Spikey.' The blond
grumbled, wishing absently he could light a cigarette. 'So, who's gonna
get hit?'

Talia bounced on her feet, her little wings fluttering happily as Fido
placed one massive paw on Angel's chest. Now, as cute as Talia was, and
even Spike had to conceded she looked utterly adorable, she was the most
sadistic little pixie in the history of the modern era. If not for the
fact he'd met the chits parents, he'd have thought papa was the
Hellmouth and mama was a major bitch… maybe a Slayer or two of Spike's
acquaintance. However, that was not the case. Mommy and Daddy were
very nice respectable fair-folk. Unlike their bouncing baby sadist
girl.

"Talia?" Spike grit the warning out in a low voice. "You aren't
considering mauling one of my guests, are you?" Because, if you WERE
this is the guest I'd want you to maul RIGHT. He left the addendum
unsaid.

The pixie spun about, her little leave-like skirt panels swaying as if
in a breeze. "Oh, it's the Master of Ceremonies." She trilled. "Look,
Fido!"

Fido's paw hit the ground and his head bobbed a greeting of some wolfy
sort. For all Spike had trampled around with demons, witches and other
ilk, he'd never quite gotten used to the weirdness of the entire demonic
whole. "Great." He muttered, deliberately not looking at Angel. "Why
don'cher go find a milkbone or something in the kitchen? I'm sure the
cooks have something…"

Talia squealed, a shrill sound that halted all dance on the floor.
Hands clapping together eagerly, she vaulted forward and onto her
puppy-dog's back. Seconds later, the only adversary facing Spike was
his dear departed Sire. "Soo…"

Angel was a little out of it. Blinking owlishly and with that definite
look of someone who's just crawled off the spinning tea-cup ride at an
amusement park, he was delightfully spacey. For just a moment, Spike
toyed with the notion of summarily evicting him.

However, the moment passed as did Daddy's mental time-warp. "Spike."
Angel fixed his dark eyes on his child's smirking face. "Where's
Willow?"

Spike shrugged, pointing towards a cluster of witches on the far side of
the club. "Probably with the other witches if she hasn't left yet." He
answered. "Hocusing and pocusing up a storm-or a clear summer day.
With witches, you never can tell what they're doing."

"She's leaving, now." Angel bit out, walking right past Spike on a
beeline path straight to the partying conclave of witches. "Buffy and
Xander want…"

Spike's mouth formed an "O" and he relaxed the expression with a lick of
his lips. "Don't count for peanuts in here." He argued to his Sire's
back. "If you force Willow to do anything, you'll be banned from all
Sanctuaries."

Angel froze, one hand on the railing for the stairs. "How's that?" He
growled, turning about slowly. Becoming outcast was a process. A
petition had to be tendered to the Powers-That-Be who authorized the
sanctuaries to start with. Forcing Willow to leave would be a quiet
thing, a personal project that shouldn't even affect anyone else, so who
would tender a petition?

"You heard me." Spike moved to stand in front of his Sire. "Have a few
drinks, Angelus. Go-not dance. I don't need physical damage to the
club on opening night, so please don't do that thing you loosely call
dancing. Unless some witch is going to spell you to do it right. Have
fun… not too much fun, please, just a little bit of fun. Think of me
being here, and whatnot while you're having fun." He paused, doing the
mental math on it. "Yeah, that should keep a good happy from
happening."

Angel's hand lashed out and wrapped around Spike's throat, choking off
air and sound. "Don't." He ground out in a low hostile voice. "you EVER
talk to me like that again." The threat wasn't even implied. It was
pretty bald faced. "I am your Sire and you WILL be respectful."

"Sure Dad." Spike wheezed. Angel dropped him.

"Go get Willow." Angel folded arms across his chest. If Spike wouldn't
cooperate, then a little bit of Angelus-type personality would fix the
situation. "She and I are leaving before the Slayer chooses to break
down the door."

Spike's eyes brightened immensely. "She wouldn't!" He chortled.

"It's plan B." Angel pointedly informed his child.

Spike's face burst into a huge grin. "Really? Oh, Bloody Marvelous!"
Clapping hands together, her rubbed them in glee. If Buffy broke down
the door and came in all militant, there were over five hundred demons,
witches and various other supernatural beasties that would tear her head
off and ground her into the dust.

The witches might even bind her spirit so that another Slayer couldn't
be called. "Oh, it feels like the lottery! I wonder if I have time to
sell tickeys to the boys?"

Angel cuffed his ear. "Go. Get. Willow." The older vampire, Scourge of
Europe, barked. "NOW!"

"No." Spike sobered quickly. "Every night creature has the right to a
club, and Willow chose to come here tonight. I gave her the invite, she
accepted. There's nothing you can do about it."

Angel bit back a curse, turning his head to look at the door. This was
taking far too long. First the delay with the pixie from hell, her dog
and now Spike was developing a social conscience. He paused on that
thought, analyzing it for logical consistency and slowly turned his face
back to stare at his child's unusually bright eyes. "You are up to
something." The drawl in his voice was slow, sinuous and very
sinister. "Something not in line with the Sanctuary precepts."

Spike blinked. One hand raised to press against his chest in a mockery
of innocence. "ME?"

Angel nodded slowly, a dark smile twisting his mouth. "You, little
boy." Just like Angelus, he tilted his head to the side and stared at
his child thoughtfully. "And, just what would you be up to, Spike?"

Spike closed his mouth and became very still at that point, earning a
nod from his Sire. "I see." And Angel DID see. "Do you want to know
what I see?"

"All ears, mate." Spike mumbled.

"Willow has been to Los Angeles several times. I think you bumped into
her there and developed a fixation on her." Angel smiled slightly to
see his child flinch. "I think you followed her to San Francisco and
set this club up to lure her closer to you. You want her."

Oh, he was good, Spike admitted. For all he was a dead-beat Dad, Angel
sure knew his kids. But, he only had suspicions, not facts. "Wrong."
Spike hissed. "I don't want her."

Angel's eyes were heavy-lidded, lazy. "Then why would YOU be defending
her right to stay?"

"Awww… hell." Spike felt like kicking something. "I'll even defend your
right to stay if you'd keep outta my face!" He muttered. "This is my
party, and all my guests can stay. So… THERE."

Angel grabbed Spike, throwing an arm about his child's shoulder. He'd
never admit it to anyone, but playing 'Angelus' was really quite fun!
"Now, now, Spikey. Tell Daddy all about it. Why'd you want the party?
Because of Willow, of course. Why'd you set up a club here? To get
Willow in here! What you gonna do to her? Ah, now there's the rub."

"Nuthin." Spike grumbled. If the Poof didn't leave soon, there'd really
be nothing. Besides, last Spike checked Willow was working her wicked
ways on him, not vice-versa.

"Spike… you lie like a lumpy rug." Angel sighed. "I think I'll have a
talk with Willow, now." Before his child could protest, Angel pushed
him up the stairs and towards the cluster of witches, giving the gaggle
of men and women his most charming debonair smile as they walked through
them. "Look lively, Spike." He chastised his sullen child.

Willow had to be around here somewhere. Buffy and Xander had waxed
eloquent about how the young witch had been dressed, so all Angel had to
do was find a redhead in club-wear have a quick word with her and then
get out. As long as he didn't throw her over his shoulder or drag her
kicking and screaming out, Spike couldn't complain.

Then he'd have a long-overdue conversation with his young redheaded
friend about her associations with the undead. As plans went, this one
was superb. It had all the angles covered and he wouldn't get staked or
made outcast.

A flash of red caught his eyes, and he turned to follow it while keeping
is grip firmly on his wayward child. "Willow?" He called out.

Spike winced, catching sight of the girl near the windows. The poof was
staring in the wrong direction, but that wouldn't last for too long.
'Wot else can go wrong, tonight?' He wondered bitterly, watching Willow
smile and laugh with the three witches around her.

"There she is!" Angel crowded Spike's thoughts. "Let's go have a chat,
shall we?"

They hadn't even taken a step towards the red head when the window
behind the girl exploded inwards. Shrapnel shards of class cascaded
through the room falling with far more deadly force than simple stone
into a window warranted and the entire club seemed transfixed, suddenly
moving only in fragmented moments..

Willow was pushed forward by the initial explosion, her fingers moving
in a spell of protection before glass could cause any harm to herself
and those around her. Eyes closed tightly in concentration for a
moment, she opened them to find Spike's alarmed blue ones meters away,
right beside Angel's horrified face. Both vampires gazed at her for one
moment, and then past her through the window. Their expressions shifted
fluidly going from mere concern to full alarm.

The last piece of glass tinkled as it hit the ground, and Willow spun
around to look up at whatever it was so transfixing the vampires. Her
jaw dropped in stunned shock and the blood drained from her face as
reality caught up with the flow of time just as a pale white hand seized
Willow's shoulder

"You can't have him!" Drusilla's shrill voice proclaimed. "Spike's
MINE!"

The End.