When In Rome: Prophecies With Extra Cheese
by Helga Von Nutwimple
A/N: I meant to mention this earlier, but I re-wrote Chapter One a while ago.  If you guys who are archiving this story in other places wouldn't mind replacing that chapter with the new one, I'd really appreciate it.

Also, for those of you guys reading this on Buffy/Spike Central or SlayerFanfic.com... I have more BtVS/AtS stories that aren't archived in those places if you want to read them: http://www.fanfiction.net/~helgavonnutwimple

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"Cordy," Angel gasped into the cellphone, "Cordy, is it really..."

"Bet your bippy.  What does a girl have to do to get into this nasty cave-thing, huh?  I can't even find the entrance.  You think they'd be useful and send me a vision of that, but oh no... could have teleported me inside... y'know, I swear, it's like they're the Powers That Be Massive Pains In The Butt."

"You're... you're here?"

"Remember that off-ramp?  Now's the point where I merge with traffic.  Assuming, of course, you get your big ol' human butt up here and let me in."

"Cordy..."

"Aww, Angel... you're running?  I can hear your little feet pattering.  That's so sweet!  It's like that butter commercial."

Angel burst into the sunlight, slinging the cellphone away.  Cordelia turned, beaming, running towards him, their bodies colliding in the middle, hands rising to wrap around each other as Angel's lips crushed down on hers, their hearts beating wildly, rising for air, gasping.

"Kinda forgot that I needed to breathe," Angel chuckled.

Cordelia ran her fingers down his jaw.  "Yeah, well, occupational hazard of humanity..."

"How come you always come back from the dead with such great hair?"

She shrugged, sending her perfect curls bouncing.  "Because I'm cooler than Buffy?"

"And humble, too..."

"Oh, always.  Remind me again why you're talking instead of kissing me?"

"I have no idea," Angel murmured, bringing his lips down again.

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Fuck.

He'd lost his soul. 

He'd just dusted Dru. 

And a hundred vampires were staring at him expectantly.

And his thought processes boiled down to: fuck!

They wanted leadership from him?  Now?  Broken and bleeding, barely conscious, with the dust of the woman he'd loved for a century on his hands, with rage and agony and loss roaring in his brain?

"Fix the kid," Spike croaked, gesturing with his ravaged hand at a segment of the crowd gathered around him.  "Anythin' he needs.  Whatever's wrong with him.  Fix it.  Hair on his bloody head gets bent the wrong way, every one of you wankers is dust, am I understood?"

Vampires swarmed around Connor, lifting him gently, carrying him out of the room.

"Somebody get me a phone.  Gotta call his dad.  Car, too... where the bloody hell are we?  Need to get him back to his dad..."

"We'll take care of that," a blonde in the crowd said, moving forward.

"Fantastic."  Spike swayed on his knees, darkness overcoming his vision.

"You know, you completely went against the plan," the blonde added.

"Sorry, Pet.  Never have been one for plans.  If you'll excuse, gonna pass out now..."

"You stake Drusilla, I eviscerate Xander.  But did you wait for me?  No.  So rude.  And if you think I'm gonna let you off just because you got all crucified, you're talkin' to the wrong vengeance demon, mister."

Spike blinked, his head rising painfully.

Anya stood at the front of the vampiric crowd, arms crossed, smiling at him.  Another man stepped forward, taking his place at her side.

"Dude," Oz nodded solemnly, "Nice loincloth."

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"Ah, yes," Giles said, removing his glasses.  "I was, actually, aware of that.  We're not closely related; I believe he'd be some sort of very distant cousin."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Largely because I didn't know, Buffy.  Keep in mind, I learned of Spike's resurrection mere hours before you did; I remain utterly amazed at Andrew's ability to hold his confidence that long.  I didn't learn of Spike's origins until after his closure of the Hellmouth, and I didn't..." Giles sighed, polishing his glasses.  "I didn't think you'd appreciate a phone call to rub salt in your wounds."

"How'd you find out?"

"I don't suppose you remember Marianne Kear?  She's one of the few Watchers that survived.  She wrote her dissertation on Spike.  When I went to London to rebuild the Council, she asked me to help her update it.  We ended up doing quite a bit of research on the topic."

Buffy couldn't help smiling.  "Major hottie, huh?"

"Oh, yes," Giles chuckled.  "Quite."

"So what, you guys would snuggle up with Books of Spike?"

Giles suppressed a wicked smirk.  "I must say, it's the first time knowing Spike has helped my romantic life rather than hindered it."

"And she told you he was a relative?"

"I was previously aware that a William Giles had existed.  I had no idea he had become Spike, of course." 

"So Spike wasn't being trained to be a Watcher?"

"His father was tossed out of the Council when William was very young and abandoned the family soon after.  William is actually mentioned in the Watcher's diaries; they had considered attempting to recruit him."

"But they didn't."

"William had been raised by his mother to be rather the opposite of his father.  The Council believed he lacked the fortitude."  Giles chuckled.  "I must say, knowing Spike, it would appear they judged the book by its cover.  And then, of course, he disappeared."

"When he got vamped."

"It was a bit of a family mystery.  Over the course of a month, the entire branch of the family vanished.  His father was rather infamous; it was assumed he had something to do with it."

"Spike... killed his whole family?"

"Ah, no.  I've spoken to Angel about this.  Angelus was the one who killed Spike's family... save Spike's mother, who Spike turned."

"He turned his mom?"

"She was quite ill.  Wood has suggested to me that Spike was trying to save her."

"Whoa-whoa.  Wood and Spike had a talk about mommies?"

"The memory of turning his mother was what the First was using to trigger him, Buffy.  Apparently, it was quite traumatic.  Spike was very new, and apparently under the impression that his mother would be like him.  He was mistaken."

"What... what do you mean, like him?"

"You're aware, of course, that Spike has never been terribly typical for a vampire?"

"Uh... what?"

"Spike has retained far more humanity in both body and mind than is normal for a vampire, even one of the Aurelian bloodline.  You've no doubt noticed the differences between him and Angel.  Spike eats, enjoys, and craves food; most vampires are disgusted by it.  His hair and fingernails grow at nearly standard human rates.  He has a much higher tolerance for sunlight, crosses, and holy water; his body temperature is warmer than standard, and his pain threshold and healing powers lower.  Spike still breathes as a reflex, even after a century, and only goes into 'game face' under duress.  You recall the spell Willow cast a few years ago, the one that erased our memories?"

"How could I forget," Buffy shuddered.

"A normal vampire under the effect of that spell -- and yes, Marianne and I tested this empirically -- would 'come to' in game face, their true face.  It would appear that Spike's human visage is his true face, or at least his dominant one.  And if Marianne's sources are correct, Spike was something of a... botched job."

"Darla and Angelus.  In my dream... they said Drusilla had screwed up, and Angelus could fix him... they tortured him..."

"Angelus was repulsed and fascinated by him.  He became a project, much as Drusilla had been before him... however, unlike Drusilla, Angelus never considered Spike to be a success.  I daresay that if Spike had not made himself useful as Drusilla's caretaker, he would have been dust a century ago."

"But why?  Why is Spike different?"

"Marianne hypothesized that it had something to do with Drusilla, that perhaps the creation of a vampire is more complex than we are currently aware. Perhaps Drusilla lacked the mental coherence for it; we know of only two vampires sired by her, and both had rather bizarre properties.  Darla's ability to not only become pregnant but to be affected by the soul of her unborn child... Spike's human qualities, his ability to love, certainly his independent decision to go acquire a soul... which, I must say, I'm rather relieved that he did."

"Um... why relieved?"

"Ah," Giles smiled.  "You recall that when you confessed you were sleeping with Spike, I began to... well... laugh, rather hysterically?"

Buffy nodded.

"There's a prophecy.  Well, a fragment of a prophecy, part of the Shanshu Cycle.  Concerning the union of a Slayer and a vampire champion.  When you originally began your relationship with Angel, I researched it a bit, but it very definitely specifies that the vampire does not have a soul.  When you, ah, removed Angel's soul, I thought perhaps it was coming to pass, but Angelus is no champion.  The notion that Spike could be the vampire in the prophecy... well, knowing the annoying bastard, I found it rather hilarious.  Fortunately, his soul was restored, which means the prophecy can't possibly apply to him."

"Okay... can I just say how incredibly sick of prophecies I am?"

"Well, there's no need for you to worry about this one.  There's all manner of things that invalidate it.  Spike hardly commands a vampire army, and I daresay we'd remember if you'd cut off both his hands.  The whole thing's probably folderol at any rate, there's a whole section that reads like a twisted version of Genesis with begatting."  Giles chewed on the earpiece of his glasses for a moment.  "Buffy... you don't suppose... you don't suppose this might refer to the Immortal, do you?  He is quite powerful..."

"Not, like, commands-an-army kind of powerful, though..."

"Well, the language is archaic.  I don't believe they'd have a word for 'international staff of minions' other than 'army'... Buffy, do you love him?"

"Huh?"

"The Immortal.  Do you love him?"

"Um.  Gotta go with 'no'.  I mean, he's really nice and all, but..."

Giles nodded.  "Well, you'd know, I think, if you were in the sort of true love that the prophecy refers to."

Buffy examined her fingernails.  "Yeah..."

"Besides," Giles chuckled, "It'd be a bit difficult to ignore the whole bursting-into-flame aspect."

"The, uh... what?"

"It may not be literal.  It probably isn't.  The prophecy is a bit... well, to be frank, parts of it are rather horridly cheesy.  Perhaps the translator is at fault.  Supposedly the first time the soulless Champion and the Slayer touch with 'true love', they burst into 'a flame that burns not, yet casts light on all', la-la-la.  It's all rather revoltingly melodramatic."

Giles paused, his eyes on Buffy's face.  "Buffy?  Buffy, are you quite all right?"

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