sunnydalealum | (no subject)

It's a bloody good thing he doesn't need to breathe, but the impact of a snarling Slayer isn't any too pleasant on a maybe fractured rib either (or a smiling Slayer either, he remembers. Good times.)

Sheer habit and his little walk down memory lane has Spike rolling the pair of them over so he's straddling a hundred-mumble pounds of pissed off Slayer. He runs his tongue over suddenly longer teeth. He's got a stake in his hand, heading for her throat. Stupid weapon for this fight but it's whats in his pocket these days.

"--Spike, no!"

Andrew's trying to edge around Sara (while Gunn tries the same thing from the other side), and his voice is clear and horrified.

"No deaths!"

Spike is answering Andrew but he never takes his eyes from Jordie. "That's up to her."

"Nobody dies here tonight," says Angel, flat and grim.

And then he moves, closing on Sara and grappling for the axe, keeping its edge away from him long enough for Gunn to dive around one side and tackle Tricia before she can stake Spike in the back, for Andrew to dive around the other side --

-- and come up next to Beth, grabbing her by the wrist.

"By order of the Watchers' Council," he shouts, his voice pitched to carry over the fight, "I hereby take you into custody until such time as --"

"What?" That's Jordie, suddenly (potentially lethally) distracted from her fight with Spike.

Spike catches her face in one hand and her hair in the other. He doesn't break her neck -- doesn't even pull her head back to expose the throat -- but he could.

Reluctantly he lets the fangs fade. Whatever Andrew's on about, it seems to be working.

"-- until such time -- stand down, Slayer," and that's much sharper, an order barked at Tricia as she ducks under Gunn's arm and makes for Beth. "She's in the custody of the Council and is not to be injured, do you understand me?"

A quick flicker of his gaze back toward Beth, who's staring at him in terror, directs the question at her as well.

And Beth -- well, she's still frozen. His grip on her wrist isn't tight, and even if it were, she knows she's stronger than he is ... but he's arresting her. Out of the middle of a fight.

And ... they're stopping, all three of the Council Slayers, and staring at him.

Good. Andrew's heart is still triphammering, and he can't show it, not for a second; this move depends on them recognizing his authority, which means he's got to believe in it utterly.

"Are we all very clear on this? Ladies?" Looking around to give each of them a hard stare.

He knows it's going to work when Tricia's bat slowly starts to sag toward the floor, when Sara looks down with her jaw setting. Jordie's eyes flick from one to the other, and settle on him.

"You can let her up, Spike," he says quietly.

It takes a couple seconds to make himself slowly unclench his fingers. Couple hundred years of instinct and history shouting Kill the Slayer Bitch in his ear are almost as loud as Andrew's bloody heartbeat.

Fortunately Spike was always shite at listening.

He half-shoves the bint free of his grip and stands, dusting a couple strands of hair free to fall to the floor. There will be bruises on her jaw in the shape of his fingers. For a few minutes, anyway.

Jordie gets to her feet, and doesn't give Spike a second look; she's staring at Andrew with enough intensity to punch holes in a paper target.

"You're arresting her?" she says, her voice scraped down to a bare thread of sound. "Now?"

"Yes. I'm arresting her."

He looks around at the other Slayers, and lets out a long sigh.

"...And the three of you. On charges of being absent from your assigned posts and making an unsanctioned attack on a human."

Spike looks round curiously. "Did anyone bring the handcuffs?"

If the three Slayers were staring before, they are STARING now.

"If not," Gunn says a little doubtfully, "we can improvise."

"Slayer," Jordie says, her knuckles white, her voice shaking just a little. "We attacked a Slayer. Not a human."

There's a tension there that could go either way, and it's communicating itself to the others.

"That's a distinction for the Council to discuss," Andrew says flatly. "And you're still AWOL. Are you three going to give your parole and come with me quietly?"

He looks from one to the other, again.

"If not, which one of you gets to explain it to Harry later?"

Angel's watching, ready to let Andrew play out his hand -- and ready to back him up if they call his bluff.

Gunn's watching Angel for cues.

Spike's watching everybody at once, to see which way they're going to jump.

Tricia and Sara are watching Jordie.

Who has locked eyes with Andrew ... and finally, after a long pause, lowers her gaze.

"We'll come," she says, "if she does."

Spike's eyes flicker to Beth. If she's willing, he'll go along with this Council Cop thing Andrew's got going: he's not precisely dancing at the thought of her in their power, but it gets her out of here in one piece, and for all the Council are arseholes, they tend not to waste Slayers except in the field. Plus Beth has this mad habit of not wanting to kill people properly, so she probably wants even these jumped up Slayerlings left alive.

On the other hand Spike thinks he's finally learned to read Beth's reactions pretty well. If she doesn't think this is the best way out, he's fully prepared to grab her and jump out the bloody window. He'll figure something out before they land. Or shortly afterward. It's always worked so far.

Beth's looking trapped, but not desperate. Her eyes go from Andrew to Jordie to Spike to --

"I'll come with you," she says, barely audible. "But can -- can someone --"

She nods at Lorne, still lying in a heap in the doorway.

"There's a healer he sees. She's on his cellphone. Please can someone call her?"

Andrew looks at Angel.

"We'll take care of it," he says, very quietly.

"We?" His voice and expression are both extremely mild.

That's a bad sign, on Angel.

"That's we meaning Angel Investigations if you're okay with it," Andrew says, "and we meaning the Watchers' Council if you're not, I don't care which, just gimme a clue here."

Gunn lets out an exasperated breath and steps over to Lorne, carefully tugging at his jacket to find his cellphone. "Who'm I calling?" he asks Beth.

She lets out a shaky sigh. "She's in there as Doc. Just tell her where, she'll come."

He flips open the phone, and thumbs down to the number.

"Thanks," murmurs Andrew, and digs into his pocket for his own cellphone. Call Willow, first thing, see how long it'll take to set up a transit spell to the Academy; hope it won't be long enough for the three vigilante Slayers to start having other ideas. Get them all there, that's the first thing.

Then the real mess starts.

For a moment he envies Jonathan, whose problems right now are limited to a post-vision migraine.