Chapter Thirteen

“Josh Lyman.”

“’Lo, Curly.”

Josh rolled his eyes and fought the temptation to hang up. Of the thousand things he had going today, dealing with a hot-tempered vampire that lived a continent away was hardly on his priority list. “Spike.”

“I’m touched you remember.”

“What do I have to do to get you to stop calling me that stupid nickname?”

“Well, now that you mention it, I could use a favor.”

The Deputy Chief of Staff leaned back in his chair. “Honestly Spike, I have a list of people I’d listen to if they came tapping me for favors today, you’re not even close to being one of them. Why did Donna patch you through?”

“Donna’s a good girl.”

“She said you were the Minority Whip.”

The vampire chuckled appraisingly. “Well, she’s a good girl who knows when it’s right to be bad. Look, I wouldn’t’ve called unless it was important.”

“Why isn’t that reassuring?”

“’Cause you an’ I have a different way of takin’ care of what’s important, I’d wager. But since you wankers shoved a chip into my cranium, my way doesn’ exactly work on humanly types anymore.”

“Yeah, I can tell you, we’re doing absolutely nothing to reverse that.”

“Look, if I could do this without goin’ through you, I bloody well would.” There was an aggravated sigh. “Fact is, I can’t deal with these wankers an’ Buffy…” Spike went quiet for a long moment. One of those silences that Josh had grown accustomed to in Natchez after a power hungry god had tried to claim his girlfriend’s body. It didn’t take a mind reader to detect what was worrying him. “I’m callin’ because I need to talk to someone who…oh, bollocks, how do you put it? Right, has a higher rank than a secret government organization that’s not s’posed to exist.”

“It’s a military branch. You’d have to go through the Pentagon.” Josh snickered. “And, by the way, good luck.”

“I don’ know anyone at the Pentagon.”

“Hence the ‘good luck.’”

“We have a problem here, an’ you’re the bloke I’m goin’ to.”

“I’m touched, really. How long did Buffy pester you until you decided to suck it up and call?”

“She doesn’ know I’m callin’.” Spike paused. “We’ve had a couple run-in’s with the Initiative. This bloke that’s all hot for my honey finally switched on the light upstairs an’ remembered where he’d seen me before.”

“Yeah. I’m sure there’s a part where I care.”

“Buffy’s a god. I can’t defend myself against humanly types without gettin’ one bitch of a headache. The claim Buffy an’ I share has made her particularly possessive—”

Josh snickered. “Color me astonished. Listen, Spike, as riveting as your personal life is, I’m working on a number of things from possibly suing the white pride group that shot me and advising the President on how to deal with this thing that Sam and Willow have gotten themselves into. I really don’t have time to—”

“This bloke thinks that Buffy’s a demon. Her powers finally surfaced when he threatened me, an’ she bloody well nearly blasted him through a wall. Now he thinks Buffy’s a demon, an’ he’s gonna be back with a bunch of his friends to take her an’ either harness her with a similar chip or somethin’ worse.” There was a brief silence. “They wouldn’t be able to touch her; it’d hurt like hell, but I wouldn’t let them touch her…but that’s not what worries me.”

“It’s the other thing.”

“Yeh. The part where she goes glowy an’ kills the lot of them accidentally by blinking.”

“Yeah, that’s not something I’d classify as good.”

“I think Captain Cardboard’s kept it to himself so far ‘cause of his li’l crush, but he’s been back twice now, tryin’ to wrangle a confession from her. She’s gonna do somethin’ that she’ll never walk away from if he keeps at it. I’m askin’ you to be decent an’ tell him to back the fuck off.”

“Yeah.” Josh paused. “Yeah, okay. I’ll have someone look into it.”

“It can’t be someone. It has to be someone this wanker’ll listen to.”

“I don’t do military stuff, Spike. It’s not my jurisdiction.”

“This isn’t military yet. It’s one bloody bloke with a vendetta. Suck it up an’ lend us a hand before it becomes a military issue an’ you have a whole new situation in Sunnydale.” Spike paused again. “A situation that’ll be big enough to draw national attention, especially when people learn that Buffy Summers an’ William Bennet were involved in yet another highly publicized, catastrophic event that the White House wants no one to know about.”

Josh balked in disbelief. “Are you…I’m sorry, are you threatening me?”

“Vamp’s gotta get his rocks off somehow.”

“Okay, I don’t know what that means, but don’t say that to me ever again.”

There was an aggravated sigh. “You want me to go over your head in this? I called you instead of Red ‘cause I thought the Witch might have a thing or two on her mind right now. If you’re not gonna help, I’ll see if her honey’s interested in bein’ a Good Samaritan. Or should I make an appointment with the President himself?”

“Yeah, because that’ll work. The President doesn’t take meetings or, well, calls on that level.” Josh glanced to the door that led to the bullpen, waiting for Donna to walk by so that he could scream at her for patching through the call. “Okay, yeah. Who am I talking to?”

Spike growled almost dangerously. “Curly…”

“I mean, who do you want me to call? If I’m gonna do this, let’s get it over with.”

“Really?”

“You called me, didn’t you?”

“I—”

“Spike, give me the guy’s name, already!”

“Riley Finn.”

“With two ‘n’s?”

“Yeh.” A beat. “That’s all you need?”

“I work for the President. You could’ve given me two courses he’s taken in the past five years and he’ll be found.”

A note of incredulity crept into the vampire’s voice; the same sort that always coincided with the granted wish of long-shot hopes. “An’ he’ll listen to you?”

“You called me, didn’t you?”

“Yeh, but I din’t think you’d actually do it.”

“I’m banking on the idea that a kid that age who’s already in an organization that’s under wraps will hear me reference the President enough times and just accept that I’m right, he’s wrong, and to back off.”

“An’ if that doesn’ work?”

Josh shrugged. “I’ll see if Fitz can do anything about it.”

“Fitz?”

“Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. He’ll have a lot more jurisdiction than I do, but I’m thinking it won’t go that far.”

“Thanks, mate.”

Josh smiled wryly. “Really, it’ll be nice to vent my frustration at my insurance company on some kid who doesn’t know better. Relax. If the President found out I let the government group that he’s only known about for six months terrorize two of the people he considers the world indebted to, I’d be out of a job.”

“An’ Donna has the gall to say you can’t be a good guy.”

“Yeah…what?”

“I appreciate it, Curly. Know the Slayer will, too.”

“What did Donna say?”

Spike chuckled in something he could’ve sworn was condescension. “Ta, ta.”

The line went dead the next minute. Josh stared at the phone silently; longer than he wanted to admit, then released a long sigh and cleared all otherwise impure thoughts from his head. Trust the vampire to get him thinking about this—he and Donna had not spoken about what had happened between them in Natchez since the last night at Longwood. Had not mentioned a word. That was his fault, he knew. He had initiated what happened between them, just as he refused to acknowledge that anything had changed in the months since their homecoming. Even those weeks while he recovered from his gunshot wound—the same that had seen the two of them overwhelmingly alone in his apartment with more than enough time to talk—had been uneventful. She’d nursed him, cared for him, bantered with him, and cried for him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention; not a word about what had changed. Not a word about what they had shared.

If Donna really was mouthing off about him, she had every right.

Though in this instance, Josh conceded he was likely overreacting because she had been mentioned at all. Spike wasn’t one to poke his nose into the business of his friends. At least not those he regarded as highly as he did Donnatella Moss.

This was nothing he could stop and consider now. The press was hounding Sam; he was up to his ass in filing a lawsuit against his greedy insurance company, and now the Republicans on the Hill were coming out of the woodwork to condemn the hiring of Ainsley Hayes. Apparently, it was considered cheap politics when a liberal administration hired someone with opposing moral views for no other reason than a respect for her values.

Republicans were always dancing on the fine line between infuriating him and amusing him.

But that wasn’t the issue right now.

“Donna!”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to get me Riley Finn.”

She appeared in his doorway, face glowing. “You’re doing it?”

“I asked for the guy, didn’t I?”

“You’re a good man, Josh.”

He snorted at the irony. “Yeah. My goodness depends wholly on what favors I’m willing to do for you on any given day. Get me Riley Finn.”

“This isn’t a favor for me; it’s a favor for Buffy and Spike. You know, those people we know that saved the world.”

“Hey, I saved the world, too.”

“If we limit our definition to people who were there, then yes.”

Josh frowned and gesticulated in protest. “I was a part of that three thing with a witch and a god. I saved the world. If you ask me, you owe me for that alone.”

“No, we’ll just call that payment for everything I’ve done for you, ranging from dressing as an East-German cocktail waitress to tying your shoes before you meet opposition on the Hill.” She tossed him a smug look. “So, if you had actually had a part in saving the world, we’d be even. Since you didn’t, I’ll go get Riley Finn for you and you can pay me back by lending favors to my friends.”

“I could say things in that tone and sound right too, you know.”

Donna grinned and turned around. “You could try.”

*~*~*

Josh could tell he didn’t like the guy just from the tenor of his voice. It took about three seconds.

“This is Riley Finn.”

“Do you always answer the phone like that?”

A beat. “Who is this?”

He grinned. Apparently, some people still thought indignation got them places. “My name is Josh Lyman; I’m the White House Deputy Chief of Staff. I answer directly to Leo McGarry and am senior counsel to the President.” He paused. “Do I have your attention?”

The line was silent for a minute. “I’d say so.”

“Right. I’m calling on behalf of Buffy Summers and—”

“Is this serious?”

He blinked. “Did you just interrupt me, there?”

“You’re calling me at my house, telling me you work for the President, and that the issue concerns my ex-girlfriend. So, yes, I think I am interrupting you.”

“You might want to stop talking now.”

“I want to know who put you up to this.”

“See, and I was gonna give you the benefit of a doubt.” Josh sighed. “I was under the impression that Buffy had told you she knew us.”

“Buffy’s…I have no reason to believe anything she says anymore.”

“Because she’s your ex-girlfriend.”

“If you want the short version.”

“Well, see, I’m already having problems with you and not all for the reasons I was told I would. If you remember, there was this little issue a few months ago involving me, the Communications Director, and his deputy in Natchez, Mississippi.”

“I don’t remember the names of the people mentioned and this is not helping me with the ‘believing this is legit’ thing.”

“How about this? You’re an agent for a secret government association called the Initiative.” He paused in a tacit invitation for a comment, and continued when he was satisfied he had rendered the boy speechless. “Your serial number is 2362754, you answered to Maggie Walsh until she was relieved and imprisoned for war crimes in piecing together a modern day Frankenstein, and are now under the supervision of General Harold Abner. Until about a year ago, you had a vampire in your custody that you called Hostile Seventeen. You stuffed a chip in his head, he escaped, and is now banging the girl that was never your girlfriend. Should I keep talking, or are you still convinced that I’m taking time out of running the country to be funny to some kid I’ve never met?”

There was a lengthy pause. “No, no…you have my attention.”

“Good. I’d hate to call Admiral Fitzwallace and let him know how noncompliant you’ve been.”

“Mr. Lyman—”

“Oh, so it’s Mr. Lyman, now?”

“If you’re so familiar with our policies, then you know that Hostile Seventeen is a vampire, and that Buffy Summers is a demon, and—”

“Okay, you’re just trying to make me laugh now, aren’t you?”

“I—”

“Buffy Summers is a demon? Really.”

“She nearly blasted me through a wall.”

“And here I’m thinking you deserved it.”

“That’s out of line.”

“No, and I’ve always wanted to say this, you’re out of line. Buffy Summers was thanked publicly by this administration in direct relation to her actions in Natchez, Mississippi.” Josh grinned. He absolutely loved his job when he got to slap ignorant people around. “And I can tell you, if I get word from Spike, or Hostile Seventeen, reporting that you’ve been harassing him or his girlfriend, you’re gonna have to take this call again from a guy who’s not gonna find it nearly as funny as I did.”

Riley was silent for a long minute. “Okay.”

“Have you gone to anyone in the Initiative with word that Buffy Summers is a demon?”

“I hadn’t yet.”

“You know, Finn, I don’t like being lied to.”

His voice hardened. “Good thing I’m not lying.”

“All right then. And Spike?”

“I hadn’t yet. I hadn’t known…I was trying to figure out what to do about Buffy being a demon.”

“She’s not a demon, Sherlock. She’s outta your league. And from the basis of this conversation, I’m thinking she always has been. Was it your perception that got you involved in the military?”

“She blasted me through a wall.”

“Well, that’s not what she did, but I won’t get into that. All I know is, it was provoked and well-deserved, and if you pursue making hers or Spike’s life miserable, you won’t wanna know where the next blast will come from. The President doesn’t take kindly to people who screw with his friends for means of personal vendettas.”

“This isn’t a personal vendetta.”

“Yeah, and Reagan didn’t quadruple the national debt.”

“Mr. Lyman—”

“Do you understand me, Agent Finn, or do I need to patch you through to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs?”

There was a long, heavy silence. “No, I think we’re understood.”

“Yeah, we better be.”

The phone found the hook the next minute, cutting through the air with a definitive slam.

“And that’s how we do things in the real world.”

“Made you feel powerful, didn’t it?”

Josh raised his eyes. Donna was leaning in his doorway, a pleased smile on her face.

“It’s fair to say that I took him to school.”

“You’re a big man, Josh.”

“Don’t I know it?”

“Isn’t it nice to do things for others every now and then?”

“Yeah, but let’s not get too used to it. This is the government—we don’t want a reputation for looking after our citizens.”

“You have Senior Staff in five, and I pushed back your meeting with Breckinridge to four instead of three-thirty.”

“’Kay.”

Donna pivoted to return to her desk. “Thanks for taking a break from being you for a few minutes.”

Josh smirked. “Yeah, well, turns out I can even surprise myself these days.”

“That doesn’t seem too hard.”

“Don’t you have, like, work to be doing?”

She grinned. “Senior Staff!” she called, walking back toward the bullpen.

“I’m already out the door.”

*~*~*

Sam waited patiently as his colleagues piled out of the Oval Office. The President had asked him to stay behind for a second after Senior Staff had concluded, and with his temperament being as hot as it was right now, he couldn’t honestly say he knew why. It felt like years had passed since the story concerning his relationship with Willow broke, but such was the reality of Washington politics.

“How you holding up?” the President asked.

“Sir?”

“Well, I’ve been watching the news. These people they have on Hardball and Scarborough Country don’t like you all too much.”

“Some of them do.”

“They don’t make as much noise as the other ones.”

Sam grinned weakly. “Yes, sir.”

The President released a long sigh and moved behind his desk. “When this is all over, I’m sending you and Willow to Disneyland.”

“I’m sure the American people will love that.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Screw the American people. They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

“Is that our reelection campaign slogan?”

“I don’t know. Sounds catchy.”

“Mr. President—”

“I just wanted to know how you’re doing.”

Sam smiled gratefully. “I’m fine.”

“And that young woman you duped into loving you?”

“She’s doing fine too, sir. She just received word that some friends are coming to DC for a while.”

“Moral support?”

“Well, that and the holidays. She didn’t tell me more than that.”

The President nodded. “These friends…they wouldn’t be the sort of friends that helped save the world a few months ago, would they?”

“Mr. President, I don’t think the White House should be engaging in—”

“I suppose your avoidance of a direct answer is another way of saying yes. Would that supposition be correct?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“Sam, if the friends that are coming to Washington, DC happen to go by the names Buffy Summers and William Bennet, please nod your head.”

“Well, he doesn’t go by William—”

“Sam—”

“It’s not a good idea, Mr. President, especially if the story about my relationship with Willow is still center stage.”

There was a beat. “I’m going to ignore the fact that you just interrupted the President of the United States while standing in the Oval Office, and give you a direct order to contact Buffy Summers and whatever William calls himself to let them know that they have been invited to stay in the Lincoln Bedroom of the White House.”

“Mr. President, I know they’ll appreciate the gesture, but it’s really not a good idea.”

Bartlet shook his head. “I don’t give a damn how good an idea it is. These are people that saved the world, and I’m not going to not thank them personally because it’d involve making political hay out of a thing that shouldn’t be a thing in the first place. I’ve waited months to meet these people, something I consider frankly ridiculous seeing as anyone I order to the White House gets here in twenty-four hours or less. These are people I’m going to meet, Sam, if I have to drive out there myself.”

“Drive out to California?”

“I won an election; I didn’t forget how to drive.”

“I wasn’t saying—”

He nodded. “Damn right, you weren’t.”

Sam exhaled deeply. “All right. Well…I guess you’ll have two houseguests for the holidays.”

“Yes, I will.” The President smiled. “In fact, I’m going to have Mrs. Landingham get them on the phone for me right now so I can invite them myself.”

“I don’t really—”

“Mrs. Landingham!”

The Deputy Communications Director huffed out a long breath as the President’s senior secretary entered the room, scolded him for not using the intercom, and agreed to look up the Sunnydale phone number.

The President was going to do whatever he damn well pleased with no thought to how it looked to the public. And he was going to do it because it was what was right.

It was one of a thousand things that earned him Sam Seaborn’s love and admiration.

*~*~*

Sunnydale, California

“Spike?”

“Sweetling?”

“You’ll never believe who was just on the phone.”

TBC