When they’d finished mopping up the whisky from the couch and Wesley had changed into dry clothes, they tried again.
“You were a trainee Watcher?”
“A small claim to fame but mine own. Yeah, only the second year. Hardly knew anything really and what I’d been told was next to useless to me after I’d been turned.”
Wesley’s mind was in an uproar. This was not what he had been expecting. Street criminal, thief, cut throat, pimp all those were anticipated considering what Spike had managed to achieve in his career as a vampire, but not a Watcher. He couldn’t quite get his head round it.
“So…how…when…?”
Through narrowed eyes, Spike watched Wesley closely as he tried to get a handle on what he’d been told. He’d never shared this information with any humans, not even Buffy and she knew more than most about the man he used to be, in fact the only people left who did know were Angelus and Dru.
“This isn’t stuff for just anyone to know, okay? I’d rather you kept it to yourself.”
“Of...of course. I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone.” Then, with a look that Spike identified as pure Watcher, Wesley enquired. “Does anyone else know?”
“Dru, of course. Angel, or Angelus anyway, I don’t know if Angel does. We’ve never talked about it. And you, now. So, you see…”
“Yes, yes, I quite understand. I won’t breathe a word. Umm…if you don’t mind me asking, who were you? What was your name?”
“Bartlett, William Bartlett. BA Cantab. M.A Cantab. Read Classics, the usual for a Watcher.”
“How…?”
The vampire gave irritated huff; this wasn’t really something he felt comfortable speaking about, even in retrospect William’s behaviour that night made him feel a complete prat. “Look, I was having a bad day and Dru just happened along, okay?”
“I thought Angelus was your Sire, not Drusilla?”
Another huff. “Your guess is as good as mine. They never would tell me who finished off the dirty deed. All I know for sure is that Dru started it.”
Sensing his companion’s uneasiness with the subject, Wesley rose to retrieve another bottle from the kitchen to replace the one he had spilled. There were still things he wanted to know but prying too much would only make Spike clam up. What he needed was another approach to the subject, something that would get them back where he wanted to be. He never got a chance to ask. As soon as he stepped into the living room and opened his mouth to speak Spike forestalled him with a statement of his own.
“Nearest I can come is a dual control car, like the ones they use for teaching people to drive.”
“Excuse me?” Wesley was fairly certain they had been discussing demons.
“When you’re turned. It’s like there’s suddenly another set of hands on the wheel. Most of the time you don’t fight it, there’s no point. It’s stronger and a hell of a lot better at running the show, ‘cos it understands how your body works better than you do now. But you’re still there, hanging on for the ride, so to speak. And sometimes you can grab the wheel and steer for a bit, especially if the demon’s distracted or tired.”
It was an evening for shocks and Wesley wasn’t sure how many more he could cope with. “You’re telling me that you… or William, has been trapped inside your head with the demon for over a hundred years?”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that.”
Spike sat up, his body language becoming increasingly agitated as he spoke. The closer he came to the subject the more his demon rattled his cage.
“It’s like a book as well. Like your mind is a book that it reads, so all your dirty little secrets get to come out to play. Every thought you ever had, every fantasy, every dream. There aren’t many people whose minds are clean enough to stop a demon, I’d wager. Can you imagine that? Having your nightmares played out by your own hands?”
Wesley could imagine only too well and he quailed under the vampire’s interrogative gaze, his thoughts flicking between the horrors that lurked in his own mind and what a demon could create with them. Why the things he had learned at the Academy alone would keep it busy for years. He looked up at Spike, a level of understanding burning in his eyes. William could have been the mildest mannered man in existence but as a Watcher he would have been exposed to that same knowledge, a well pit of darkness and cruelty just waiting for the demon to access.
“That’s what you meant, about it being important - what you were before.”
“Yeah, and when the demon moves in and you wake up, all that stuff gets to be its playground. ”Pause and a small frown. “But that’s not exactly right either ‘cos that suggests that the demon is the one doing the talking right now and it isn’t, it’s me. It’s always been me doing the talking but sometimes…” He stopped, shaking his head in frustration at being unable to explain.
“I dunno, Wes. It’s complicated. All I really know is that I woke up feeling like myself but more so, stronger, and these ideas got into my head and…it’s persuasive, Watcher. It tells you how bloody brilliant you are, picks your brains for a good idea and it shows you exactly how to do it. The consequences don’t matter any more. No, that’s not right either. It tells you there aren’t any consequences but the cause and effect thing is still there.
“Then I got the chip and to start with it still kept putting ideas in my head but when I didn’t, couldn’t do anything with them, it sort of backed off, quietened down and stopped muttering at me so much. I got behind the steering wheel again.”
“And now? With the soul?”
With that question Spike leapt up and started pacing, gesturing along with his words, obviously and visibly disturbed.
“Shit. That was like waking up from a dream. Suddenly realising what I’d done, like someone switched on a light in my head and all the dark corners were lit up. It’s not a conscience; that’s too simple. It’s not emotions either; demons have those as much as humans do. It’s more like a blanket, covering the demon, subduing it, keeping it even quieter, but at the same time another part of me has had the covers ripped off so I can see what I’m doing. In some ways it’s not so different from the chip, the way it keeps the demon quiet, most of the time.” He ran his hands through his hair, and Wesley could see that they were shaking and when Spike turned towards him he was somewhat disconcerted to see flecks of gold shining through the blue of his eyes.
“If smoking will help, I don’t mind.”
“Huh? Yeah, ta.” The vampire dug in his pocket and lit up. “He doesn’t like me telling you this.” Another pause and a long drag on the cigarette, followed by closed eyes as Spike exhaled slowly. “Not been this loud for a while.”
“Do you want to stop?” The last thing Wesley wanted was for Spike’s demon to gain a foot in the door of the vampire’s psyche again.
“I…I dunno. Would you mind?” His hands were still shaking but his eyes were solid blue again. “Maybe it would be best. Angel could probably explain better than I could anyway, after all he’s been living like this for years.”
“Possibly. If he was talking to anyone, that is.”
Wesley suddenly found himself pinned by an intense and distinctly demonic glare. “What do you mean? Is something wrong with him?”
Spike was now advancing across the room, his eyes flickering back and forth between gold and deep blue, and the Watcher sucked in a ragged breath as familiar flutters of fear played in the pit of his stomach.
“Tell me human. Is something amiss with my Sire?”
“Spike, back off. I refuse to say anything when you are behaving like this.” It was undoubtedly foolhardy to challenge the vampire, but Wesley did it as much for his own resolve as anything else.
“You’ll tell me if I have to drag it out of your head along with your brains, Watcher!” And it was probably even more stupid to sucker punch him on the nose.
“Fuck. What was that for?” Spike prodded at his nose, reviewing what had just transpired then glanced up, looking somewhat sheepish. “Sorry.”
Wesley sagged in relief; his calculated risk had paid off. The punch could have brought the demon out completely or, as had happened, it had served to break the atmosphere enough for Spike to get it back under control.
“Better?”
“Yeah, thanks. I think we should do this in company in the future. Have Faith standing by with a stake or something.”
“Faith is in San Diego.”
“What? What the hell is she doing there?” This wasn’t quite how Wesley had seen the evening progressing, in fact Cordelia had explicitly told him not to mention any of this to Spike, but it wasn’t as if he had much choice.
“Things have been happening, at the agency. There were some murders, they were in the papers, on the local news, didn’t you see?” When the vampire shook his head obviously bewildered by what he was being told Wesley continued.
“Clients, paying clients, were murdered, eight in all over the last three months. New business has virtually dried up; money is tight, worse non-existent. Faith has moved to San Diego, and Fred and Gunn are leaving at the end of the week for Texas.” There, it was out. He sat back to face the music.
“And Angel is doing what exactly?” Spike was prowling again but to Wesley’s relief, in a much more human way.
“Angel has locked himself in his room and is refusing to come out unless you have a vision. At least this time he hasn’t forgotten that part of what he’s supposed to be doing.”
Spinning on the spot to face Wesley, Spike queried, “This time? What the hell do you mean ‘this time’?”
“When Darla was here…”
“Yeah, right, Dru told me. Went a bit off, didn’t he. She said he wasn’t Daddy or the Angel-beast either.” Back to pacing and another cigarette was lit. Wesley went to find an ashtray, it was probably a bit too late but it may save the carpet another dose of ash. When he came back Spike was lying on the couch speaking, Wesley presumed, to Cordelia on the phone.
“I don’t care what he says, you silly cow, put him on the phone.”
A long pause and then, “You can tell him from me to stop being a total wanker and…Are you all right, pet?” Again a short silence and Wesley could just about hear another voice. “Yeah, I know. I’m nasty rude man, and so is he…Okay. I’ll talk to Wes. Bye.”
The phone was slammed down with a curse and Spike stood up. “Got any clients left then?”
Taken aback by the question Wesley stuttered, “W-why?”
“’Cos” The vampire slipped on his jacket and started heading for the door. “If we’re gonna sort this out we need somewhere to start, don’t we.” He held the door open and indicated for the Watcher to precede him out of the apartment. “Come on, Wes. Let’s go, time’s a-wasting.”
**
‘Not tonight.’
‘Let go, Angel. I can make it so good. For her, for you. Go on. You know you want to.’
‘There are things I should be doing. Work things. I need to…’
“Angel? That was Spike on the phone. He wanted to speak to you and I told him that you would not.”
‘My boy. Where is he Angel? You promised me my boy!’
“Go away, Cordy, please.”
Even Angel could hear the wrung out desperation in his voice, if she came into their room at this moment he wouldn’t be responsible for what happened. Why was Angelus so strong? It was taking all his concentration to keep the demon at bay, something that hadn’t happened for years and Angel was certain that there were times when he was slipping through. He kept waking up confused and in the wrong place, and just last week he’d opened the fridge to find it stacked full of bags containing human blood with no memory of how it had got there.
“I’m not going away, mister, not until you talk to me, so unless you want to listen to my voice all night I suggest you get your ass out here right now.”
Inside his head Angel heard a rumble of laughter. ‘She sounds like Darla when she gets cross. You remember Darla, her softness and strength, how she would scream for me. Can you make Cordelia scream, Angel? I know I could. Let me have her. I could show her so much…’
“Shut-up!!!”
The banging on the door reached a frantic level. “Angel, please. Are you all right? Talk to me, god damn it.”
‘Tired. I’m so tired. Why can’t she just leave me alone.’
“Look, it’s not just Spike. The police called again and there’s been another one. That makes eight. You’ve got to do something, Angel. Everything…” A small sob broke through her words. “We’re going to lose everything.”
“Cordy, I love you.” God he wanted her to know that so much, but with Angelus’ hand around his throat the words came out as no more than a croaked whisper.
The silence from the other side of the door became deafening after a while until Cordelia spoke again, her voice hardened by the hurt she was feeling. “Fine. I’m going out. If you need me I’ll be at Gunn’s.” Her heels clicked on the floor as she stalked away and Angel tracked her progress down the stairs and out of the hotel. At last he could relax, there was no one left Angelus could hurt.
As if summoned back into being by his thoughts the demon started again. ‘Hmm, you let her get away. Now what will we do for the night? Maybe we should go out, check the back alleys for naughty vampires.’
‘I need to get to the butchers. Get some pig’s blood…’
Another purr, this time accompanied by the taste and smell of warm human blood. ‘Let’s just go out, see if anything turns up.”
**
They made the trip in silence; each lost in their own thoughts. When Wesley pulled the car up outside the gates to the house they sat quietly staring up at the imposing looking edifice which, by rights contained the man Angel was supposed to be watching.
“You sure this is the right place?”
Wesley checked the address Cordelia had given him again. “Positive.”
“Nice. Swanky. How come this one hasn’t run screaming like a girl?”
“Excuse me?” Sometimes the vampire was almost impossible to decipher even for another Englishman.
“The bloke, the one in there. Doesn’t he know he’s next on the killing list?”
“You want to know why this client is still with the agency despite the murders.”
“That’s what I said, yeah.”
With a sigh Wesley filled Spike in. “It’s a job for another agency, a subcontract if you will. The client lives in Philadelphia and suspects that her husband comes to LA to see one of his mistresses. We were taken on to cover this end of the operation about six months ago according to Fred. It was one of the few paying jobs they managed to get during the summer.”
He would have continued but, from the way Spike was looking around at the house, gates, wall and security system, it was patently obvious that he’d stopped listening.
“So where is he?”
“I should imagine he’s inside with his mistress right now.”
“No, you prat, Angel. I thought you said he was supposed to be watching the gaff.”
“He was but Cordelia said he wouldn’t come out of their room this evening.” Actually she’d been in tears and more than a little scared, but Wesley wasn’t about to mention that right now.
Spike hopped out of the car, leaning down to leer back at Wesley through the open door. “Guess it’s just you and me then, pet. Fancy a bit of rough and tumble?”
Rough and tumble? He’d managed to keep his mind on the job all evening but that was too much. “What?” Wesley cleared his throat and tried again, this time without the squeak. “Pardon?”
With a small internal snigger at the Watcher’s reaction - he’d have him sooner or later - Spike clarified his meaning. “Well someone needs to keep an eye on this bloke and if Angel’s not here, it’ll have to be us.”
“Ah, absolutely. I-I’ll get out of the car then.”
“You do that.”
**
The body slipped from Angel’s arms and he stared down at it in horror, the taste of her blood was in his mouth, warm and coppery, and deliciously flavoured by fear and death. He spat and then inhaled deeply though his mouth trying to clear it. How had he got here? To this dark alley stinking of rotting garbage and motor oil. He remembered setting off to the butchers then… yes, there had been the sounds of a struggle from a back street and he’d investigated. The vampire had a girl pinned against the wall, her skirt round her waist exposing her rump as he impaled her with his cock and fangs. But it was her eyes that Angel remembered most vividly, large, dark and full of fear above the vampire’s restraining hand, begging him to help her. She’d reminded him of Cordelia and the idea of taking his lover in that way paralysed him with unparalleled fear and desire.
Transfixed, he had watched helplessly as her eyes had slowly lost hope and fluttered closed. The connection broken, Angel had found he could move again and had immediately leapt forward, plunging a stake into the oblivious vampire’s back. As it crumbled to dust the girl had slumped forward and he’d caught her, feeling as her heart stuttered to a stop against his chest, then nothing until…
‘You did this.’
Angelus was curled away, sated and content, purring his satisfaction at the evening’s activities; the only thing lacking was a warm place to rest with his family around him. Sleepily, he responded to Angel’s question.
‘I did.’
‘Why?’
‘I was hungry and she was already dead. Jeez, Angel. I didn’t kill anyone so what’s your problem. We were just tidying up.’
‘I…You…’ He tried to find a good reason to deny what the demon had said but the truth of the matter was Angelus was right. The girl was already dead, because he hadn’t been able to save her so what was the problem. He could feel her blood coursing through his veins, warming him in a way he’d not felt for years, he’d forgotten just how good it felt to feed from a still warm body.
‘This must never happen again.’
‘If you say so, lover, if you say so.’
**
Wesley stumbled through the darkness, not entirely certain where he was and relying on the vampire in front of him to pick the way. During their silent journey he had managed to get some sense of order into the information that churned through his mind, and it had left him with one vital question. How did any part of the human remain sane after so many years trapped in the constant company of a demon? He had to ask.
“Spike?”
“Shh.”
“Sorry. It’s just that…”
Irritated golden eyes swung round to meet him and Wesley closed his mouth with an audible snap, he’d forgotten vampires used their demon face when there was so little light.
“Someone’s going to hear us if you don’t shut up.” At Spike’s words Wesley felt a small giggle well up in his chest, the fangs made the vampire lisp slightly and it sounded almost…cute?
With a despairing shake of his head at the Watcher’s vagaries, Spike turned back towards the house. Despite his words of caution he was fairly certain they were too late, the enticing smell of freshly spilled blood was rich in the air and unless someone was into blood play, which was not customary for humans, then they had at least one dead body waiting for them. All the windows on the ground floor were closed but as he peered up the building he could see one, small and almost hidden by the deeper shadows of the roof, slightly ajar.
“Stay here and don’t move. I’ll be back.”
Wesley watched with opened-mouthed amazement as the vampire ran, spider-like up the rough stone wall of the house. On an academic level he knew that the demons had this sort of ability but he’d never seen it in action. When Angel was tailing someone he did it alone, so although Wesley had seen him fight on numerous occasions, he’d never seen anything like this, it was a privilege and a face full of chilling reality all rolled in to one.
Realising he was standing out in the open with his mouth flapping like a goldfish, Wesley moved closer to the wall to wait for Spike’s return. After a couple of moments he heard a slight sound from above then about fifty yards away from where he was standing a figure hit the ground, rolled to its feet and disappeared into the undergrowth. Without a second thought he moved towards the spot where it had landed looking around for some clue as to what or who it may have been.
“Wesley?” Spike’s voice came from above him and he looked up spotting the vampire silhouetted against the yellow light from behind an open window.
“Over here. I think you should come down. There was someone else here.”
There was a quiet curse then the vampire landed not far from where Wesley was scanning the ground. Without looking up the Watcher commented, “We were too late, yes? They’re already dead.”
“As dodos. Couldn’t have got in otherwise. One of them put up a fight though. There’s blood everywhere. We’d better call the police.”
“Not yet. I want to see if…what’s this?”
He bent down close to a darker patch on the grass and reached out to touch it, his fingers coming back warm and sticky. Blood, there was no mistaking its texture or the faint coppery smell. A cool hand enfolded his and Wesley watched hypnotised as the vampire drew it towards his mouth, and proceeded to taste the blood with the tip of his tongue before sucking his fingers one by one with closed eyes and a slight moan of pleasure. When the last trace was gone, laved away by an insistent tongue which left Wesley distinctly uncomfortable, Spike’s eyes flew open and he grinned.
“I know who our murderer is.”
“Just from the taste of the blood?” Sudden images of setting up a database of blood types like those they had for fingerprints flew into Wesley’s head, along with the inevitable conversation with Angel trying to persuade him to taste the clues so they could identify the culprits. .
“Tastes like…a bit like a Slayer actually but male. Let me see, family, Angelus, Darla…”
“Connor?!”