November 12th 2002
<<The king called up his jet fighters
He said you better earn your pay
Drop your bombs between the minarets
Down the Casbah way>>
*click*
It never ceased to amaze him how pressing one button could instantly turn his world from hideous calamity to calm.
“Oi, Watcher, I was listening to that.” And those would be the dulcet tones of his houseguest, presumably busy using up all the hot water again.
Not deigning to answer, Wesley turned from the CD player to the whisky bottle and poured a generous shot into a glass, zoning out the sounds of vaguely melodic singing coming from the bathroom. He knocked it back quickly and poured another to take with him, setting it close at hand on the coffee table when he lay down on the couch.
Was it really only three weeks? Such a short time even in a mortal’s life, yet so much had changed. No longer was he outcast from Angel Investigations, not the pariah he had been for those long months before. He had been welcomed home, not quite the prodigal son, as yet no one had offered to slaughter a fatted calf in celebration of his triumphant return, but their quiet acceptance and requests for help were enough to soothe his long shattered nerves.
Wincing slightly as the singing went up a decibel and wavered slightly off key, Wesley squashed the impulse to shout something obscene through the door. A reaction which, as had been proven before, would only visit the singer on him more quickly and returned to examining his unruly thoughts.
If he was happy at his work, which he had to admit even to himself, he was, then why this feeling of disquiet? Home, then. Something in his increasingly contented home life that was causing his unease. The obvious cause was currently in the shower, and Wesley determinedly skated past the images that rose in his mind about wet naked vampires. This was neither the time nor place to be going down that road again however willing his houseguest may appear to be.
No. It was more than just playing host to the ‘not-so-evil-undead’ as Cordelia would say. In many ways having Spike in his apartment had transformed it from an empty somewhere he reluctantly returned at the end of the day, into a home. By now he was so used to the extra washing up stacked untidily in the sink and the dirty laundry lurking down the back of the cushions that he would miss them. And in many ways theirs was an easy routine, he worked all day while Spike slept and the vampire went out all night while he took his shift in the bed. It was strange but convenient and their lives rarely overlapped. He wasn’t sure exactly where Spike spent his nights; the only certainty being that it wasn’t at The Hyperion. He hadn’t returned there since the status of Angel’s soul had been revealed and Cordelia had moved in for the kill.
To Wesley’s knowledge the only contact Spike had with anyone at Angel Investigations, barring himself, was to pass on the information contained in his visions and that he did by telephone. With a small sigh of frustration, Wesley picked up his drink and nursed it on his chest, trying again to pinpoint the source of his unease.
Faith was settling in well, though she still found his presence as disturbing as he found hers. Things would always have a potential for awkwardness between them, there was too much history for true comfort but they were both being adult about it. Fred and Gunn seemed happy, blissfully so if the expressions on their faces were anything to go by. And if possible, Angel and Cordelia seemed happier still, totally absorbed in each other when Angel was not out working on a case or tracking down informants. The only fly in the ointment was Connor’s continued absence. Despite Faith’s best efforts there had been no sign of the teenager and his surrogate mother, and even Angel was starting to believe they had left town for good.
Wesley glared into his glass, seeking answers in the amber liquid it contained and reviewed his conclusions. He was being dishonest with himself. Connor was not the only fly, the other was the simple fact that Spike and Angel had not exchanged a word in the last month. It was almost as if they had each decided the other no longer existed. And that was a problem precisely why? Because sooner or later circumstances would throw them together and Wesley needed to know if they would fight each other or together when it inevitably happened.
“Ow. Bloody hell. Chuck us a dry towel, Wes.”
At least the singing had stopped.
*
“What do you think?”
Wesley dragged his eyes away from the slim hips barely covered by their small towel, up past that perfect waist, moulded abs, and chest dotted by droplets of water that were just begging to be licked off. And, with surprising amount of self-discipline, fixed his gaze on the dark hair framing a face that contained cheekbones that would put a supermodel to shame, stormy blue eyes, and longer lashes than any man had any right to possess. Hang on! Dark hair?
“Well?” Spike ran his hands self consciously through the curly mop and raised an eyebrow at the Watcher inviting comment. In the past he would never have sought out another’s approval, or disapproval, but this change of image was more important than the ones that had gone before. This was much more than just a change in hair colour, this was about being able to look at himself in the mirror every morning - metaphorically speaking obviously.
Since Angelus’ banishment and Angel’s return he’d been coasting, mind in neutral and only engaging on the most superficial level with the people and events around him. It was comfortable but he knew it couldn’t last, but neither could he return to what he was. The old Spike was gone, swept away on a tide of insurmountable guilt and conscience. There was no more Big Bad, and the trappings that created and sustained him now felt awkward and inappropriate. The final straw had been Willow, when he had called Casa Summers to check on Dawn’s recovery, offering to return his old duster. He’d refused, as calmly as possible considering he’d immediately been cast into vivid replays of Nikki’s murder and at that point made the decision; things, most specifically him, needed to change.
The small weekly retainer he was getting from AI had been enough to purchase new clothes to replace the ones he needed to discard; the ones that held too many memories of bar fights and Buffy. Plus the added bonus of a much-needed re-style at one of the few places in LA that weren’t perplexed by their clienteles’ lack of reflection. He hadn’t wanted a return to the slicked bleach look, again there were too many memories associated with it but he needed to remove every trace of the dark blond he’d used to seduce Angelus. Now though he wasn’t so sure; unable to see the results for himself, Spike was concerned that he still created the wrong impression, hence his solicitation of Wesley’s opinion.
“It’s…different.”
“Different good or different bad?” At the concerned note in the vampire’s voice, Wesley pulled himself together.
“Good. Definitely good.” And it was. The longer length remained, as did the lack of gel but the colour was now a deep midnight blue, almost black, with blond highlights which only served to accentuate the soft curls. The overall effect was a cross between street waif and fallen angel and Wesley found it quite enchanting.
“Right, then. I’ll just umm…” Spike indicated towards the bedroom, feeling unusually modest and vulnerable beneath the human’s intense gaze and scurried off to find a barrier of clothing to put between them.
As the vampire disappeared into the bedroom, Wesley rubbed his hands over his face, trying to erase those damnable images from his mind again. What was it about Spike that brought out this reaction in him? He’d worked alongside Angel for years and although he found the older vampire extremely physically attractive, his presence didn’t send his brain into melt down every time they were together. Truth be told, Angel had featured prominently in some of his best sexual fantasies, the dangerous edge he exuded simply heightening the desire, easily driving Wesley over the edge into tumultuous orgasm.
But Spike was different. With Angel his fantasies were of being dominated, taken, claimed by…he supposed Angelus, although recent events had gone some way to reforming that proclivity. On the other hand, when he conjured Spike into his mind during the long lonely nights the vampire was out and about, there was an entirely different picture in his head. He wanted to possess that lithe body, push him down on the bed, or possibly onto his knees, and use him, and seeing the younger vampire in that position with Angelus had simply added fuel to already raging fires. Oh there was still the danger, Wesley wasn’t stupid enough to forget the way Spike had fed from him and the pain he had inadvertently caused, but it was tempered by a kind of innocence which, on occasion, shone behind those blue eyes. A naiveté Wesley alternately wanted to corrupt and coddle.
Maybe it was his home life getting to him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
November 14th 2002
“Please understand this is not a request, young man. Wolfram and Hart have provided you with luxury accommodation and hidden you from your Father, rather successfully I might add, and in return we expect payment.”
Lilah ground her teeth in silent frustration isolated in her chair at one end of the huge mahogany table as she listened to Linwood lecture the teenager. In her opinion it was a pointless exercise and would only serve to alienate the boy even further. Her investigations into Holtz had quickly revealed that the man was a fanatic and it was only logical that Connor would be the same, and trying to argue logically with a fanatic was pointless, they didn’t understand it. To get the most from their, potentially loose, cannon the boy needed to be inspired. He needed a mission and she planned to give him exactly that. The fact that it would fulfil exactly the same design as Linwood’s lecture was irrelevant; it was all about how you presented the facts, and matching presentation to audience was a lawyer’s finest art. Under the correct guidance Connor could be taken and moulded into the perfect weapon then, when accurately aimed, he would easily bring Angel to his knees.
When the only reaction he managed to elicit was a stubborn glare, Linwood leaned back in his chair, letting loose an annoyed huff before standing and striding towards the door. As it opened under his hand he glanced back at the two figures that remained seated at he table. “Maybe a woman’s touch is what you need, boy. Lilah, you will take care of this problem and I expect to see results in a month.”
As he left Lilah allowed a self-satisfied smirk to spread over her face. This was exactly the opportunity she’d been looking for. After Angelus had so considerately thinned the herd, promotion was hers for the taking. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the polished surface and put her chin on the back of her hands, studying the features of the slightly scared but defiant looking young man staring back at her from steely eyes.
“Connor. I knew your real father…”
**
“Throw me the axe!”
“Jeez, Wes, back off. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”
“Shut up Gunn and throw me the damned axe.” It flew through the air landing with a smack in Wesley’s outstretched palm. He grabbed it, turned and swung in one easy move and the demon toppled to his feet spewing pinkish blood from its neck. As it fell, Wesley leapt back to avoid the pumping liquid, barging into Gunn and knocking him to the ground with a whomph of expelled air.
Breathing heavily from the adrenaline still racing through their systems, the two men looked at each other. The one decorated in demon slime, the other in the stinking muck that covered the sewer tunnels. Their eyes met and laughter bubbled up in their chests, leaving them more breathless than before. The tension that had filled the air since Gunn had taken up with Fred evaporated and, with a grin, Wesley held out his hand to heave the taller man to his feet. Gunn seized it and jumped up, clasping his other to Wesley’s shoulder.
“It’s good to have you back, man.”
“And it’s good to have you at my back again.” It was a cheesy riposte but it was accepted as it was meant, with genuine friendship. Arms slung casually round each other they limped back down the tunnels towards the nearest exit.
“So why exactly were we the ones chasing down the nasties in the sewers? Don’t we have a champion for this kind of thing?”
“Ahh. Only when said champion is not busy ‘shagging’ Cordelia.”
Pause. “Wes, you need to get out more. You’re even starting to sound like him.”
Their voices tailed off into the darkness leaving behind a vacuum of black silence, broken by the soundless figure stepping from the shadows to examine their kill.
**
“You know I hate divorce cases, Cordy.” Angel tried to keep the whinging note out of his voice and didn’t entirely succeed. As a fall back he looked at her hopefully a half smile on his face, maybe she’d find him something bloodier to do than sit in his car outside an apartment all night, listening to people doing what he wanted to be at home doing. After a hundred years of almost total abstinence he felt he was entitled to do some catching up.
She ignored him, sorting through the filing cabinet for the details of the case, feeling his eyes burning into her body as she bent down to rescue the pen she had, oh so accidentally dropped. Hands and arms followed eyes, and she turned in his embrace, their lips meeting softly then with more urgency. God, this man was insatiable and she loved it, he was the best and most attentive lover she’d ever had. And, even when her thoughts inadvertently turned to what else this luscious body had done during its time on earth, all she could feel was warmth and love burning through her. Angelus was gone, never to return, Angel was here for good and he loved her; all was well in the world of Miss Cordelia Chase.
Wesley and Gunn staggered in through the door, sharing a joke that required much raucous laughter and backslapping from both parties. And Cordelia felt a brief pang at the sight of the two friends bonding again, she was glad to see Wesley back in the fold; the place always felt empty without him. She reached up and caught Angel’s face in her hands, giving him a final kiss before spinning out of his arms and back to the desk. Snatching up the file she had been searching for she pressed it into his chest.
“Stakeout. Tonight. You. It’s divorce cases that pay the bills, mister and in case you forgot I’m still expecting a large salary for my work around here.”
Angel whimpered pathetically but she was adamant, and he knew better than to argue. It looked like he was spending the night in the car again. How come Wesley and Gunn got all the good ones?
The two smelly and chuckling warriors dropped onto chairs, their mirth dying slightly until they looked at Angel and Cordelia and their eyes meeting again brought on another round of hysteria.
Cordy folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot, treating them to her Queen C approved hard stare until they subsided again in choked off sobs and snickers. “I so don’t want to know what brought that on. In fact, if you ever try to tell me I may be forced to let Angel loose on you.”
As they collapsed again, obviously their hilarity was brought on by something concerning her and Angel and their, somewhat enthusiastic, sex lives, Cordy lost her temper.
“Right, that’s it. Get out of here the pair of you. Go home, get cleaned up and wash out your childish little boy minds while you’re doing it.”
They shut up and looked chagrined at the woman glaring daggers at them. Gunn cleared his throat and tried for a reasonable conversation.
“So nothing interesting coming up this evening.” Did he really just say that? His foot shot out and kicked Wesley on the ankle before the rising snicker could break free.
“Ow. Umm…Yes, as Gunn said. No cases for us to work on tonight?”
She smiled at him, her annoyance disappearing as quickly as it arrived - never let it be said that Cordelia Chase was predictable. “No, nothing, nada. Just this stakeout that Angel’s doing. You know we really need to drum up some more business, guys. The visions just aren’t pouring in like they used to.”
An uncomfortable silence reigned for a few moments as Angel studiously avoided asking how or where their Seer was. Gunn broke it by standing up with a tired sigh. “Okay, I’m out of here. Fred’s cooking and I don’t need to tell you all what that means.”
His exit effectively broke up the meeting, all parties leaving to spend their evening away from the perpetual duty that was life at Angel Investigations. As he opened his car door, Angel pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled a familiar number, if he was going to have to spend the night working, he sure wasn’t going to do it alone for once.
**
Dropping the cigarette into the gutter as the car pulled up in front of him, Spike hopped over the door into the passenger seat. “You managed to get away then. I thought Cordelia…”
“Stakeout. Divorce case.” There was an odd note in Angel’s voice as he spoke and Spike almost flinched away when he reached out a hand and ran it through his hair. “I love it. It’s so soft.”
“Unlike something else.” He deliberately injected the statement with as much lasciviousness as he could and leaned over, presenting his lips and pressing the palm of his hand into the already hard bulge in Angel’s pants. His action elicited a choked off moan, and he proceeded to kiss and caress until Angel was nothing more than a squirming wreck under his hands. With a satisfied grunt Spike pulled back, lit another cigarette and leaned casually against the door, examining the effect of his ministrations from the corner of his eye. Angel was sat silent and glazed, staring at nothing and breathing deeply in the chill night air.
“Right than. Stakeout. Divorce case. Let’s go.” No reaction. He jabbed the older vampire in the arm until Angel focussed again, gave him a weak smile and started the engine.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
15th November 2002
“I don’t understand how you didn’t see anything. You were right outside the block all night and yet someone managed to slip past you and kill our client’s husband without you noticing?” Cordelia’s voice went up an octave and Angel bent his head at the sound.
What was he supposed to tell her? That yes, his car was parked outside, but that frankly he wouldn’t have noticed if world war three had broken out because he was too busy making out in the alley with Spike. Full sensory memory of the night before flooded his senses and for a moment he was completely lost again. Feeling Spike’s hands pressing him into the rough wall, lips and tongue kissing burning wet marks on his neck, and that glorious feeling of having control wrenched from him as he was impaled on his Childe’s cock.
He shuddered and dragged himself back to Cordelia’s righteous rant. She was right, of course. He should have been watching the building and now someone was dead because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. It had to stop, no matter if what they had filled an aching gap in his heart - and his body for that matter. Ignoring an odd uncoiling sensation inside his mind, Angel shook his head with gritted determination. He had to be sensible. What he had been given with Cordy was too precious to waste. He would go over to Wesley’s right now and tell Spike it was over.
“I need to go out.” Angel stood and pulled on his jacket, checking for his keys before remembering that it was daylight.
She stopped mid sentence and glared at him, the frown on her face casting her eyes into dark shadow. “You only just got back. Where do you need to go?”
I need to go and end the affair I’ve been having behind your back for the last fortnight. God, what did he think he was doing? He should tell her; come clean, face up.
“Thought I’d check out a couple of informants, see if this guy was trouble.” And yet his mouth refused to co-operate and dug him even further into this web of dishonesty.
“It’s a bit late now.” Cordy couldn’t keep the bitter note out of her voice and as she watched his tense retreating back, she whispered quietly, “I love you, Angel. Don’t leave me.”