Shaddyr's Eclectic Collection > Pretender Fanfiction > Buffy Fanfiction > Shaddyr > Convergence
Convergence
part 6
by Shaddyr
Jarod's lungs were burning and his legs felt like lead. He knew he was in decent shape, but his mind kept telling him he shouldn't be struggling to keep pace with the diminutive blond woman running ahead of him through the sewers. He wasn't going to ask her to slow down.
Buffy glanced back at him. He gave her a thumbs-up, but his ragged breathing gave him away. She eased up the pace.
"I don't think she'll have a hope in hell of tracking us now," she said encouragingly as she led the way down yet another dank passageway.
As they walked he remarked on their escape route. "There certainly seem to be an inordinately high number of subterranean access ways beneath Sunnydale."
The Slayer nodded in agreement. "The former mayor had vampires and demons on his payroll. Only safe way for vamps to get around in the day without becoming crispy critters."
Jarod absorbed that tidbit. "And the current mayor?"
"Seems to be human." She shrugged. "Well, as human as any politician can be, anyway. No obvious demons among his employees either. I keep an eye on politics in this town now. Ah, here we are."
As he caught up with Buffy, he saw she had stopped before an access manhole with a ladder leading into an underground room. She climbed up to unlock the trapdoor, then slipped through it. He followed, pulling the door shut behind him. The air in the room was drier and warmer, the musty odour of rot and mold giving way to the calming scent of dried herbs. Shelves lined the walls and there were crates stacked in the corners as well as a few scattered barrels about. Some unusual artifacts were visible, and out of curiosity he moved a little closer to get a better look. A strong arm on his shoulder held him back.
"Trust me," she said with a tone of finality, "there is stuff down here you do not want to get up close and personal with."
He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like you know from experience."
"There was the endless afternoon battling with the mummy hand, but that's a story for another time," she informed him as she wove her way through the crates of inventory to the stairs.
After a brief inspection of the room, Jarod realized they were in the Magic Box. "Well, that's a handy little escape route," he remarked.
"Yep," Buffy agreed as she opened the basement door. "Especially when you have a shark demon and his vampire minions after you, and you and all your friends have magically induced cases of amnesia," she commented wryly.
Jarod gave her a sidewise glance as he passed through the door and entered the store proper. "Do you people *ever* have normal days or mundane problems? Say, a parking ticket, or perhaps a simple mugging?"
The questioning voice of her Watcher cut the exchange short. "Buffy?"
"Yeah, it's us Giles," she responded as the two of them walked over to the table where the he and Willow continued to work on the interpretation of the prophecy.
"What are the two of you doing back here?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand in an effort to ease the kinks that inevitably developed after days of intensive study and research. "And why through the cellar entrance?"
The Slayer plopped herself down in a chair, folding her hands across her chest, and blew a stray lock of hair out of her eyes before answering. "She tracked Jarod down, Giles. We were just getting him out of there when she showed up. We barely got away."
The Watcher looked up at her, concerned. "She was waiting for you at the hotel?"
Before she had a chance to respond, the bell on the door jangled and Spike blasted into the shop, tension rolling off him. "Buffy?" he called out sharply, gaze casting about in search of her. He visibly relaxed when he saw her sitting next to the big oak table.
She raised an eyebrow at Spike before answering. "Not exactly." Buffy gave Giles a brief rundown of the encounter with Spike and Parker in Willie's place and how Spike had put his body between them and Parker's gun. When she was finished, she turned to the vampire in question. "And, by the way, what are you doing here?"
He rolled his eyes at the cold shoulder. "Just makin' sure you and the brain trust made it back safe and sound is all."
Jarod chose to ignore the insulting descriptor and extend an olive branch instead. "Thank you, Spike." The Pretender made a point of catching his gaze. "For everything."
The vampire's eyes grew wide at the unconditional gratitude in the Pretender's tone. Suddenly very self-conscious, he shuffled back and looked at the floor while muttering something barely intelligible about it being no big deal.
Buffy felt a twinge of remorse as she watched the by-play. It would be simple enough for her to thank Spike, but that meant softening her attitude towards him, and when she did that, other pesky feelings started to surface, feelings that had no business being there in the first place, messy sloppy feelings that were liable to get in the way of what had to be done just now, and she really didn't have the time to think about this at the moment…
*Focus, Summers, focus*. She cleared her throat. "Giles, I was thinking. Maybe until we get this figured out, perhaps Jarod could stay with you?"
He nodded. "That's probably the best course of action right now. This way he will be right here when the time comes."
"Yeah," she agreed. "Besides, with both of you working on this prophecy thing, I'm sure you'll have it figured out in no time."
Willow looked up with a mock scowl on her face. "Hey! A not-guy here! And also working on it!"
Buffy gave her best friend an abashed look. "Of course, you not-guy, you. They couldn't possibly do it without a not-guy to help." The girls shared a grin.
"Okay," the Slayer stated, rising to her feet. "I'm going to patrol and then try to get a good night's sleep. Hopefully you guys will have some more ideas about exactly what's going down when I see you tomorrow. Have fun."
"Right, then," her watcher said with a nod. He promptly turned and grabbed a book, which he handed across the table to Jarod. The Pretender cocked an eyebrow at her as he took the proffered tome.
"Somehow I don't think 'fun' is the correct noun in this situation." Jarod's voice was laced with dry humour.
Buffy just flashed him a jaunty grin. "You go read stuff. I'll go kill stuff. See you tomorrow." She turned and bounded towards the door, only to slow down as she neared the vampire standing there.
Without a word she reached forward to pull the door open, ignoring the proximity of the peroxide blonde who lounged against the wall to the right of it. Just as she pulled it wide enough to step through, his quiet comment caught her ear.
"It wouldn't kill you to say it, just once you know."
Buffy stopped. "What are you talking about?" she demanded quietly.
He let out a frustrated huff. "Thank you, Slayer. It wouldn't bloody well kill you to say thank you. 'Thank's, Spike, for jumpin' in front of that gun' or 'Thanks for keepin' her off us long enough to get away', or just 'Thanks for watching my back.' Something. Anything."
"I didn't ask for your help, Spike, and I didn't need it." Buffy gave the door an extra hard shove and stalked out into the night.
Spike caught the door before it impacted his face. The little bint! Eyes narrowed and lips pressed into the thin line, he slammed it shut behind him as he headed off after her. He finally caught up with her about half a block away.
"Look, Slayer," he began heatedly as he drew up beside her, "all your enhanced speed and strength mean squat against a bullet. If I hadn't been there to run interference, you or that brainy git back there would have done something stupid and one of you would have ended up with a piece of lead in you."
She glowered at him as she stomped towards the first cemetery on her sweep. "Oh, because you were doing such a fabulous job of running interference with her at Willie's. Yeah, she was so distracted she couldn't remember what she came to town for, I could see that!"
"Hey! I was just trying to figure out what she knew is all! And keepin' her in the bar meant that she wasn't out on the streets hunting for your precious lab rat!"
Buffy stopped and shook a finger in Spike's face. "Don't call him that! That's what she calls him and it's just cruel!"
"Well, unlike your pet genius, at least she has some backbone and doesn't need someone else to come along and fight her battles for her!" he folded his arms across his chest and glared right back at the Slayer.
"Backbone, my ass! I'm sure her courage is of the purely liquid variety. The rate she was going, if you held your lighter up to her, she'd go up in a ball of flame!"
Spike looked at her sideways, then his face broke out into a very sly, self-satisfied grin. "You're jealous!"
Buffy felt her mouth fall open in shock. "What?"
"You're jealous," Spike continued, confident in his assumption. "You saw me at the bar with another woman, and it made you jealous."
"Some crazed bitch comes into my town, drinks half the bar, flashes a gun in my face, and you think I'm *jealous*? What are you, on drugs?" Buffy strode off across the graveyard. She certainly wasn't about to admit that part of her performance at the bar had been some primal hindbrain reaction to another female. She didn't even want to consider the implications of why it rankled to see him with a drop dead gorgeous, obviously vibrant and dangerous woman, someone with whom he could probably feel a kinship - no, so not going there.
Spike was right beside her in an instant. Prophecies and wild women with guns be damned, it was about time that he and his favorite spitfire had it out. "Buffy, we need to talk."
"Go away, Spike."
He planted his feet, then grabbed her arm, effectively yanking her to a stop. "No."
Her eyes flashed dangerously as she rounded on him. "Keep your hands off me!" she ground out through clenched teeth.
Anger surged through him, and he grabbed her other arm to pull her flush against his chest. She struggled in his grasp as he glared down into her face. "You didn't mind my hands on you a few days ago when no one could see you. You didn't mind them the night *you* jumped on me and pulled *my* zipper down-"
"Shut up!" she screamed, startling them both. She didn't want to hear this, didn't want to face this, didn't want to deal with this. She felt like she couldn't breath as she thrashed about in her effort to free herself.
His face tightened, a tick obvious along his jaw line as he fought to keep himself under control. "I told you I was not going to be your whipping boy anymore, Slayer. Like it or not, you are going to have to deal with this."
She shook her head and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. "Just shut up, shut up, shut up…" poured from her lips like a litany.
Spike lost his battle with his temper. He let out a roar of frustration and shook Buffy hard enough to make her dizzy. "NO! I will NOT! You started it all, Buffy. You were the one who kissed me after the Sunnyhell musical nightmare. And you were the one who shoved your hand in my pants, luv, not the other way around!" He let go of one of her arms for a split second to give her a light, but stinging slap on the face. "Open your eyes, God dammit!" he bellowed as he recaptured her arm. She stared up in him in shock, spluttering indignantly.
He leaned over so that his face was mere inches from hers. "You were the one who came to me when you were all invisible like." His expression softened and his voice grew gentler. "And I didn't want to throw you out, but Buffy, I want all of you. I don't want to settle for secrets and lies. I love you!"
"I don't love you!" she insisted, glaring at the tombstone beside him.
"Look in my eyes and say it, Buffy."
Her gaze flicked up to meet his for a moment, before moving away again. "Well, I don't! I don't love you!"
"Look. In. My. Eyes."
Against her will, she felt herself pulled to look up and then she was lost in a piercing blue ocean. Again he spoke. "I love you, Buffy. You know I do, no matter what you say. And despite all your protestations that it's wrong, you are the one who came to me. You look in my eyes and tell me that you don't feel something for me."
Her angry resistance turned to quiet sobbing. "I can't! I can't do this, Spike! You're a soulless, demon *thing*!"
His stare held her like a bug a pin, refusing to let her go. He pushed in, relentless. "Tell me that you don't have feelings for me, Slayer. Tell me!"
She shook her head, tears dripping off her chin. "I can't be with you!" Finally, she wrenched free from his grasp and fled as fast as her legs would carry her.
Spike stood and watched her run, a bittersweet smile on his face. He'd been right. She really did have feelings for him - she couldn't look him in the eye and deny it. Unfortunately, it looked like all the feelings in the world just weren't enough.
*******
"Giles?"
The Watcher looked up at. "Hmm?"
Jarod's face was a study in frustration. "I'm having trouble with the translation of this passage," he said, carrying the book over to let Giles have a look. "I must be missing something."
Willow craned to see the text the dark haired man had indicated. "Oooo, that one. Yeah, that's a slippery sucker," she commented with a shake of her head. "It's the tense. Sumerian is difficult enough, but the tenses don't make sense in that section."
"Yes, I'd have to agree." Giles slipped his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose before replacing them. "Let me get another cross reference…" The Englishman climbed up into the loft to search for the book.
Jarod noticed that Willow was glancing surreptitiously at the door, as if waiting for someone to appear. And with that very thought, the bell tinkled. A tall, slender young woman with tawny hair and expressive, soulful eyes peeked nervously around the door. The red head across the table from him jumped up and wrung her hands together, looking for all the world like a barely restrained puppy who really wanted to go bounding across the room and pounce on the person who just walked in.
"Tara, hi! Uh - please… come on in."
She walked hesitantly across the shop and sat across the table from Willow. "Giles s-said that there was a, a really important spell. That needed doing. Now."
"Ahh, Tara. You're here. Good," Giles stated as he descended the steps, tome in hand. He handed the volume to the Pretender, then retrieved a different book from the table, opened it to the correct page, and placed it before the woman who had just entered. "Let me explain exactly what the ritual requires. I'll leave it to the two of you to decide on which protection spells and wards you wish to employ afterwards."
Jarod paid virtually no heed to the cross-reference as he listened to Giles explain the upcoming ritual to Tara. Even though the Watcher had explained it to him and Buffy earlier that evening, it still felt like some fairy tale story. Because really, up until a few days ago, listening to a grown man detail the procedures involved in casting a unity spell to bind the essences of the two Chosen, one of them being himself, so that they could in turn rise up to do battle against some evil force, would have seemed like something straight out of the pages of a Christopher Stasheff novel. Actually, it still did, even on the second hearing. The scientist in him rebelled strenuously against taking any part in the proceedings. The realist in him reminded the scientist of the very real fangs Spike had displayed the day before. His internal battle temporarily stymied, he refocused on the reference book before him.
And It Shall Come To Pass…. They'd been working tirelessly on trying to find references to the prophecy, commentaries, something to give them an idea as to when it would take place. Giles had said that there was often some clue - a full moon, a planetary alignment - but so far, they'd found nothing. And no matter how many times he went over the original Sumerian trying to get some indication to the timing, the verb translated into present tense. That it was passing right *now*. Which of course made no sense. Jarod sighed.
It was the same with the rest of the prophecy. All of the verbs translated into present tense. His brows furrowed in frustration. Trying to figure out what some Bronze Age mystic had foreseen was giving him a serious headache
*********
"Leads, Broots, I want them *now*."
Sydney stifled a sigh as he watched Miss Parker pace the length of the hotel room while waiting for the computer tech to work his magic. She'd been gone most the day with nary a word of explanation. When Broots had called her with a possible location on Jarod, she'd followed it up to find the Pretender in the company of 2 locals whom she'd apparently had dealings with earlier in the evening. She hadn't been forthcoming with details, other than to say Jarod had gotten away and obviously had people working with him this time. People who appeared to have knowledge of the Centre. This was a very bad thing; if word of this reached Lyle or Raines, the Centre would send cleaners, and there would be a lot more unexplained deaths to add to the already mysteriously high body count Sunnydale had.
"I'm sorry, Miss Parker, but it's going to take a while to hack into the local Police and DMV databases." The balding tech was sweating and nervous, but he met her gaze without twitching. Much. "And then I still have to perform the search with the parameters you outlined. Give me a couple of hours and I should have something for you."
She cocked an eyebrow at him. Parker would never admit it, but she was glad to see that Broots was growing a pair. Nevertheless, she didn't want him getting too uppity. She planted one perfectly manicured finger hard, right in the center of his chest. "60 minutes. I want to find this girl tonight, before they have a chance to move Jarod again. And I *really* want to find this guy." She got a dangerous glint in her eyes, and this time Broots flinched. "He and I have some unfinished business, and at the moment I'm feeling inclined to invite him for a visit to the renewal wing and finish it up with him there."
"Miss Parker!" There was reproof in Sydney's tone. She just rolled her eyes at him.
"Just a random thought, Syd. I don't plan to act on it." She smiled unpleasantly as she recalled how easily the lost-boy-wannabe had disarmed her. "It's a *nice* thought, though. I think I'll just enjoy it for a few more minutes."
The psychiatrist folded his arms and regarded her intently. "If you get a location on her tonight, what exactly do you plan to do?"
"That should be obvious, Syd," she replied testily, as if addressing a particularly stupid child. "I'm going to stake her out, and if I find Jarod there, I'm going to haul his ass in. What the hell *else* would I do?"
"Perhaps get some sleep," he advised as he studied her drawn face. He hadn't missed the faint smell of scotch on her breath, despite the fresh mint toothpaste that attempted to disguise it. "It's doubtful that Jarod will leave town before he's finished whatever he's working on anyway. We've obviously caught him unawares and in the middle of something." He spoke soothingly, willing her to listen to him. "He'll still be here tomorrow, I'm sure of it."
She sighed deeply and ran a hand through her hair. Freud did have a point. And she was exhausted. Maybe a couple of hours would do her some good. She could always set out on a pre-dawn stake out. "Fine," she agreed with a curt nod, then looked back over at Broots. "You've got your couple of hours," she informed him. "Use them wisely. I will be eminently displeased if you don't have something for me by 5am.
Broots' face fell as Parker walked out of the room and pulled their adjoining door shut behind her. "I, uh, guess that means no sleep for me," he muttered unhappily.
Parker quickly undressed and slipped into her maroon silk pajamas. She stood in the bathroom staring blankly into the mirror as she brushed her hair out. The days' events had left her with a feeling of foreboding. Her mind went back to the incident in the cemetery. She couldn't understand what on earth had come over her to make her run away like that, to make her feel so afraid. And then tonight! The slow, smooth strokes of the brush through her hair were becoming quick, sharp jerks as her anger welled up. That irritating blonde! *How* had he known? And what in the HELL was wrong with her that she'd let him get to her like that? Tears sprang to her eyes and she gasped in pain as she caught a snarl in the back of her hair and almost ripped it out with a vicious brushstroke.
She put down her brush and placed both hands, palm down on the counter as she took a deep, steadying breath. Syd was right. A couple of hours of sleep ought to do the trick. She'd be good to go by the morning.
Turning the bathroom light off behind her, she walked over to the bed and turned down the covers. She reached over and flicked off the light, then crawled into bed. Oh, yeah, that felt good. She closed her eyes, and in mere moments she was asleep.Parker walked along the beach, enjoying the sounds of the surf, the warmth of the sun. The water was so inviting that she gave in, stepping into the waves as they crested on the sand.
She became aware of someone behind her. She reached for her gun as she spun around, only to find it wasn't there. The figure she found before her almost caused her to fall to her knees.
"M-mom?" Her voice caught in her suddenly constricted throat.
Catherine smiled sadly at her daughter. "You have to go, dear one," she urged gently. "They finally understand. The Convergence is now *truly* at hand. Be strong, my darling."
Miss Parker took an unsteady step towards her mother. "What do you mean? What is the Convergence? Help me momma, I don't understand!"
Catherine reached out to gently stroke her daughter's hair. "It's all coming together. The time has come for you to choose." She pointed down the beach. "You have to go. Follow your heart." The sunlight reflected off the diamond of her mother's ring, and Parker was dazzled by its brilliance.Parker sat up, opened her eyes and looked around. All she knew was it was time, and this wasn't where she was supposed to be. She had to get there. Sliding her shoes on, she opened the door and slipped silently into the night.
Broots tiredly rubbed his eyes, then reached for his coffee cup to take a sip of the now tepid brew. He'd been working for several hours and had come up with precious little. There didn't seem to be any police reports involving a perp with the nickname of 'Spike', and thus no leads on an address for said individual. It was equally dismal trying to find a drivers license for an English expatriate when you only knew the nickname. There were, however, many petite blond females with licenses. Many, MANY petite blond females.
Broots sighed. This just wasn't shaping up to be his night. He glanced resentfully at his sleeping colleague, then stood and walked across the room to stretch his weary muscles. A sound caught his attention and unconsciously he turned in the direction it had come from. Looking around to discover the source, he happened to glance out the open window. A frown creased his brow. There was a woman walking across the parking lot in her pajamas, and it looked an awful lot like… no, it couldn't be.
"Syd," he whispered urgently, turning to place a hand on the older man's shoulder and shake him gently. "Syd, c'mon, wake up."
"Hmmm?" The psychiatrist blinked several times, trying to get his bearings. "What is it?"
"Look," Broots insisted, motioning to the window. Sydney rose from the bed and looked outside. His face took on a puzzled look. "Parker?"
He shrugged. "I didn't want to knock and wake her up," the tech admitted sheepishly. "I didn't feel like getting yelled at. But if that's her…"
Sydney strode across the room and opened the door between the two suites with no preamble, throwing the light switch as he did so. The two of them looked down to see an empty bed.
The computer tech shook his head in confusion. "What the hell is going *on*, Syd?" The two men shared a look of deep concern and then bolted back into their own room to slip on their shoes and head out after her.