6th August 2003
It was the final straw. He couldn’t take it any more. Something had to give and it looked like it was going to be him. It had all started the night of the Scooby meeting, and had gone down hill from there. The last three nights had been the worst and he wasn’t prepared to take it anymore. It was too painful. The package lay on the table in front of him and Spike stared at it. Would it work? Something had to, things couldn’t remain they way they were.
**
There was silence in the apartment when Xander got in and he assumed that his housemate was still asleep, not an uncommon occurrence for the vampire. Although with construction work going on until after six in the evening, most days Spike was already up and pottering by the time he got home. When he discovered all the hot water was gone, he went ballistic. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he told the vampire not to, Spike always assumed a shower should last over an hour, leaving Xander with nothing but a tepid drizzle to wash off the accumulated sweat and dirt of a day onsite. Having done his best, and still in a thunderous mood, he stormed out of the bathroom and thumped on the closet door, yelling.
“Spike! I’m going to fucking kill you. You hear me, you… you un-dead hot water hogger.”
The door swung open slowly, showing the small room to be in total darkness with no sign of its occupant. It looked like Spike was out, although quite where, considering the sun was high in the sky, he had no idea. But never one to turn down an opportunity to snoop, Xander entered, looking around curiously. There were items of clothing scattered across the floor, the bed was unmade and packaging materials were stacked in the corner. More a lair than a bedroom, and lying on the bed was an old looking book, bound in dirty brownish leather. He picked it up, flicking through the stiff yellow pages before letting out a strangled yelp. There on the page, complete with bookmark was a spell - a soul extraction spell.
**
“I swear, Willow. It was lying there in his room on the bed like he wanted me to find it. Jeez, I bet this has been the plan all along, get all cosy with us, invited back in and then wham. No more soul and stroll, and Mr The Bloody is back in all his overbite glory.”
Xander was pacing the floor, arms flailing wildly in agitation as he worked through the shock of having discovered Spike’s secret.
“Xander, calm down. We can’t be sure of anything yet. I mean, what about the chip? Giles said it was only the soul that was stopping the chip from working and I can’t see that Spike would want that.”
That gave him pause for thought, but not for long. “He’s been gone for months. How do we know he didn’t get a chipectomy then? And the soul? He got it for Buffy, you said he did. And she’s given him the big dump-a-rama, so why not. Back to the Big Bad, with no more brooding and bad dreams.”
She had to admit it sounded logical, if you looked at it from the vampire’s point of view. Buffy said she’d been quite clear in telling him there could be nothing between them and what other reason could there be for Spike to keep his soul. Even Angel had occasionally mentioned that he longed for simpler times before the curse.
“We’ll call Buffy. She’s on patrol and just in case…”
With a sudden feeling of horror, Xander asked. “Where’s Dawn?”
“Out with a friend. You don’t think?”
“I’m thinking that that’s exactly what I think.” He grabbed the phone and punched in Dawn’s cell number, sending up thanks for his decision to buy them for the whole gang. It rang and rang, until the messaging service picked it up and he knew she was in no position to answer it.
**
“So she says to me that it’s okay and she was going to tell him anyway but hadn’t got round to it, and the whole class is like, well duh, she’s just a skank anyway and then Ricky says… Spike are you listening?”
“Huh. Yeah, just thought I saw something. You were saying? Something about school?”
She rolled her eyes. What was the point in him insisting on taking her for ice cream if he wasn’t going to talk to her, or at least listen. Okay it had been a surprise when he’d turned up, especially with his hair bleached again and the new coat, but the bad she’d been feeling the other week had sort of burned out and now she wanted them to go back to the way they were. But he’d been elsewhere all evening, sort of spaced out and it was starting to get her majorly pissed.
“Spiike!” The patented Dawn whinge, it should get him back on track.
“Bit.” Nope, he was still staring down an alley on the other side of the road, an odd look on his face. She crept back to him and seized him round the ribs digging her fingers into potential ticklish spots, knowing that particular manoeuvre would get his attention. It did but not in the way she expected. He turned and grabbed her, spinning her with breathtaking speed so she was held, her back against his chest and she could feel his fangs pricking against her throat.
From out the alley came a deafening roar and three vampires, also in game face came barrelling towards them, skidding to a halt when they realised they’d caught another of their kind about to feed. They approached more slowly, stopping a few steps away when Spike growled.
“Hey, dude. No pressure. Just, you know, share and share alike, man.”
“And who the hell are you?” His mouth was close enough to her neck that she could feel the coolness of his breath as he spoke and her knees felt like jello.
One of the vamps, not the one that had spoken the first time but the other that was wearing surfer gear, stepped forward.
“Name’s Eddie, man. Hey, cute munchables. Where’d…”
“Eddie. I may be entirely wrong, and forgive me if I’m making assumptions, but I’m guessing you aren’t the master around here.”
The surfer vamp giggled and nudged his friend. “No way. Shit, do I look like him, ‘cos, man, if I looked like that I’d have to stake myself.”
Dawn heard an irritated sigh from behind her, and knew that if this vampire wanted to survive much longer he’d better stop being such a doofus. If there was one thing that annoyed Spike more than her whining it was ‘idiot fledges’.
“Tell you what then, I’ll just finish of this little morsel and then the four of us can go and pay him a visit. What d’you say?”
“I say you’re dust, Spike.” Two of the vampires disintegrated revealing Buffy and Xander, stakes in hand. The third took one look at the confrontation and ran. Without really bothering to aim, Buffy launched the stake after him and he exploded between one step and the next.
“Bloody hell, Slayer. I nearly had them.” The grip on Dawn’s waist was released but she stayed put, not liking the look in her sister’s eyes.
“Dawn, come here.”
“Why?”
“Don’t argue with me. Just do it.”
Spike was frowning in confusion now. “What the hell’s going on?”
Xander stepped forward, stake held defensively in front of him. “We found the book, Spike, so don’t try to deny it.”
“What book? Deny what?”
There was obviously something extremely strange going on and Dawn put her hands behind her catching Spike’s new duster in her fists, effectively preventing him moving away.
“Buffy, are you saying Spike’s done something, ‘cos he’s been with me all evening and…”
“Dawn. Come here now.”
Her sister was getting beyond cross but she stood her ground. “I think we all need to just calm down and talk.”
“Talk!” Xander advanced rapidly towards them and Dawn found herself going backwards as Spike retreated. “There will be no talking with the evil dead. That’s what got us here in the first place. There needs to be less talking and more dusting.”
“Dusting? Now, just hang on a minute. Who’s getting dusted here?”
“You are, Spike. We saw the book and the spell. We know what you’ve done. I mean, look at you. Did you honestly think we wouldn’t notice?”
“Spell? What spell?”
“The soul extraction spell.”
Dawn felt Spike stiffen behind her at Buffy’s words, and for a second she almost believed her sister. But it couldn’t be true, if he was going to kill her he’d had all evening. Why wait till now, why not just drag her into an alley before buying her ice cream?
“Buffy, stop! Don’t dust him yet. I got it to work.” Pounding up the road and yelling as she came, was Willow, waving a small container. When she got to them she stood between the two parties and grinned at both. “Hey guys. Umm…sorry ‘bout that. It took longer than I thought it would. The ingredients were all over the house and then there were candles and the chanting and you know…”
“Willow, enough with the babble-fest just do it.”
“Oh, right, yes, okay. Umm, Dawnie, can you come over here otherwise we might not get a clear reading?”
Dawn pulled herself up to her full height and stated in her ‘someone had better explain or else’, voice. “I’m not moving anywhere until someone tells me what the hell is going on!”
A hand on her waist stopped her from saying any more and Spike whispered in her ear. “It’s all right, pet. I know what she’s going to do. You go on over to your sister, okay?”
“You sure. I mean, I don’t want you to end up dusted because you know - Buffy in Slayer mode.”
“I’m sure. Now don’t argue with me. Go.”
She did and the moment she was clear Willow threw a small quantity of powder over the vampire, who glowed a deep azure blue for several seconds before the light faded leaving them once more in the darkened street.
“I’d say that was pretty conclusive.” Looking distinctly pleased with herself, Willow gave Spike a warm smile. “Sorry about that, it’s just that Xander found the book and then the spell and then you’d disappeared and… well, you know, I guess everyone got a bit carried away.”
**
“Are we certain about the sureness of this? I mean, sharing a house with him here.”
Never one to let go of an idea when he thought it was a good one, Xander spent most of the walk home seeking reassurance from Willow and Dawn about his lodger’s soul-ed status. Several yards behind them Buffy giggled at her friend’s concern then smiled radiantly up at the vampire walking beside her.
“So, I get the whole blue glowy soul thing but what was with the book?”
Spike smiled tentatively back at her and she found herself feeling more comfortable around him now the blond hair and black coat were back. He was more like the Spike she remembered. “Found it in a nest. I was gonna pass it over to Red or maybe sell it on. Hadn’t even looked at it.”
And he probably hadn’t even realised it contained a soul-extraction spell. They carried on for a few minutes just enjoying each other’s company before she continued, “Why the image change, not that I’m complaining, and what was all the hanging with the other vamps?”
“Both the same thing really, sort of anyway. First off, I got fed up with no one recognising me. I had fledges cheeking me all week and it was only Clem that got me into the game last night… And before you aask, I’m not eating the kittens. I dropped ‘em off outside the animal shelter on the way home.” When she nodded approvingly, he continued.
“Second, I was trying to get in to see this new guy, Mercutio or Iargo or whatever the hell he’s called. Thing is, he’s got bunches of minions and to be honest I didn’t fancy my chances against the lot of them. So I thought, get an introduction, up close and personal like, then stake the bastard, pretend to take over the town and dust the minions as and when. Damn good plan too. One of my better ones, till you lot came along.”
“And Dawn?”
“Ahh. That was an accident. A fortuitous accident as it turned out. I saw those guys and she was there, and I remembered that trick Angel tried to pull at the high school and I thought…”
He stopped looking a bit sheepish when she gasped out; “you used my sister as bait!”
“No, not really. Well, yeah, actually but…I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her, Buffy. You know that.”
She could have let him plead and beg all the way home but she forgave him - when they were half a block away - and turned their conversation back to the, for Spike, well thought out plan.
“Are you going through with it?”
“What? Oh, the plan. Don’t now. What d’you think? Workable?”
“Umm. I think so. What if the rest of us hung outside and did something showy while you’re doing the meet and greet thing. That way you won’t have to deal with all the henchmen if they go postal when you dust their boss.”
“That could work.”
“Not just a pretty face, see.”
**
“Cordy, listen to me, girl. I know what I see and that mark on your arm isn’t from any job we’ve done. Is he beating on you?”
“That is so far from the truth, it’s not funny.”
She broke the grip Gunn had on her wrists, and stalked into the office slamming the door behind her and dropped the blind so she had complete privacy. Then and only then did the tears start, rolling silently down her cheeks as she held back the sobs constricting her chest. He didn’t do it on purpose, he just didn’t know his own strength and it was her fault for not listening more carefully when he asked her to do something. And who did Gunn think he was, asking if Angel hit her? A laugh escaped and it helped relieve some of the tension in her body, so she did it again until it started to sound slightly insane.
Work was what she needed, that way she wouldn’t have to dwell and if she didn’t think, then none of it was happening and it couldn’t be real because he loved her. That was something Cordelia knew as an absolute in her heart. Angel loved her. He told her so as she was cradled in his arms, as he kissed away her hurts and tried to explain how difficult it was for him. He, a vampire, trying to love a human, and please forgive him if he was rough but sometimes it was what he needed. And who was she not to give him that, what sort of woman was she that wouldn’t tolerate the occasional bruise or bite so her lover could have what his demon required. After all he was what she wanted and Cordelia Chase could do anything to get her heart’s desire. Wasn’t she the one who had defied her friends to date Xander, and virtually starved when she’d been a young wannabe actress rather than admit defeat? The woman who had been prepared to give up her dream of stardom to save her lover from the torment of the visions was certainly capable of withstanding a little rough sex.
So she’d accept his apologies, return his embrace and whisper her love for him into the dark, and the next day she’d carry herself with pride and ignore the sideways looks and muttered comments. They couldn’t possibly understand and she wasn’t about to explain. Anger now burning a fire in her belly, Cordelia raised the blind and opened the door, ready to go back and face the others. What the hell did they think she was? Some kind of doormat?
**
The wide-open window admitted the gentlest of breezes, stirring the sluggish air in her room and causing the curtains to rustle gently against the wall. She lay on her bed, caught between sleep and expectancy, the way she’d been for hours. He should have been here by now, she’d made the invitation as overt as she’d dared, considering they were in the company of friends, and the effort she’d put into sending Dawn to Janice’s for a sleepover should have been adequate confirmation.
With a deep sigh, Buffy rolled over until she could see herself in the floor length mirror and ran her hands slowly down her tight stomach and thighs, wishing it were cooler, more masculine hands touching her in that skilful way of his. But there was no point in dwelling, he’d obviously misunderstood or, and this was a thought she didn’t need, maybe he longer wanted her. Again her eyes drifted to her reflection and she let her imagination take her, chuckling momentarily at the irony that she was able to invoke the most accurate images of her vampires in that silvery surface.
Her vampires. It had a nice ring to it. Hers. There was something intoxicating about being the object of desire for two of the most vicious creatures that had stalked the earth, and wild horses would never get her to admit just how much the thought aroused her. For nigh on twenty years they had created bloody mayhem together. Umm. Together. Those books Giles thought he had hidden up on the balcony shelves of the Magic Box, the ones that she’d helped collect and clear away after Willow destroyed the shop. They had given her an entirely different perspective on the relationship between her two vampires and, although initially wigged, the idea of them together had grown on her, and nowadays it was one of her favourite fantasies, one with added piquancy now one of them had returned.
She knew their bodies so well it took virtually no effort to conjure the images and she felt herself quickly becoming aroused. Hands moving more swiftly now, touching and tweaking nipples to hardened nubs, as steely muscled bodies writhed in ecstasy in her head and it was an easy matter to insert herself between them. Her dancing insistent fingers became cool tongues, working her, sending her spiralling towards orgasm but she refused to be denied, pulling away from them, insisting they join with her in that pleasure. She lifted her legs, opening her thighs and exposing her heat to the tendrils of cool air, hissing in pleasure at the illusion of her lovers’ fingertips playing across her perspiring body.
Lost in a world of tangled limbs and gasping breath, she slid two fingers inside her tight channel, her other hand pressing against her mouth, lips moving against it as she summoned one lover’s presence, feeling him deep inside her. It was reality now, his panting breath against her cheek, soft blond curls he tried so hard to hide brushing gentle caresses on her face. But as their bodies began to move in perfect tandem, creating a steady rhythm from their desire she felt him pause and another pair of hands, as cool as the first, rested on her hips stilling them. Hovering over them both, almost hidden in the darkness, she could see the play of muscles across his chest and upper arms as he dipped his head to kiss first her, then him. Watching as their tongues danced and played, and knowing the moment their deeper moans became hitching breath that their triumvirate was complete.
In her mind she could see their eyes so clearly, blue becoming midnight with lust and cinnamon darkening to black in intense desire, and she watched as they fluttered closed moved beyond mere sight by their enjoining. And now both her hands were on her body, in her body, mimicking every thrust and roll, each gentle touch and strong caress, their names dropping from her lips as her phantom lovers whispered hers in her desperate ears. Finally driven beyond recall, her body arched from the bed, fingers plunging and twisting, pushing her onward, over and into ecstasy.
As her pounding heart subsided in her chest, Buffy drew in a long shuddering breath. God but they were good together. One of these days she’d have to ask, were her fantasies just that?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
7th August 2003
As plans went it had been a good one, up to a point. Spike had finally managed to track down a couple of minions belonging to the new master, who turned out to be called Romero, not hardly Shakespearean at all. The trap was set with the Scoobies and the Slayer laying in wait for the appointed time, and then attacking the lair with everything at their disposal, and it was at that point that Buffy realised something was very wrong.
Poof and the first vamp fell to dust under her stake, Buffy spun and met the next with a high kick sending it flying backwards into the wall. She followed up quickly but was pulled back by another tracking in from her left side.
“Xander! Clean up!”
They’d agreed that she would do the bulk of the fighting with Willow acting as lookout and co-ordinator, blasting the occasional demon that came her way, leaving Xander to stake any that Buffy felled but was unable to finish off. Out the corner of her eye she saw her friend move in on the downed vamp and lift his stake, and it was then that the screaming started.
“Gods, Buffy, he’s human.”
Willow’s words drew her attention and, rapidly staking the vampire that stood between her and Xander, she forced her way to his side. He stood shaking, hands covered in blood as he stared down at the human he had just staked in the chest. The human that was screaming with pinkish blood bubbling through his rictus lips. They could do no more than watch as the man convulsed once, twice, then slumped against the wall, the ground staining darkly as his life’s blood spread out from his body.
There were more screams coming from inside the lair and Buffy passed a trembling, shocked Xander over to Willow before diving back into the fray, spider sense on overdrive as she staked anything wearing a demon’s face and punched out those who appeared human. Long moments later she fought her way inside and finally the last of her foes fell away leaving her alone, except for the bodies, most unconscious rather than dead and the occasional pile of dust.
“Spike?!”
Her heart in her throat Buffy searched the lair, finding several more bodies, but no sign of her vampire. A muted groan drew her attention to one corner and she pulled a corpse to one side revealing a human, obviously stunned and just coming round. She hauled him to his feet pushing him back against the wall, where he lolled pathetically until she smacked his face to bring him round.
“Hey, buster. Talk to me and I won’t keep hitting you. What the hell are humans doing here? In a vamp’s nest?”
The man’s eyes rolled in his head and she shook him, repeating her questions until he started to respond.
“Paid us to help…said there could be trouble…vampire that couldn’t…chip.”
Letting him drop back to the floor, Buffy resumed her search, her mind spinning with the implications of what the man had said. Did that mean Romero was expecting Spike? If he’d gone to all the trouble of hiring humans to help protect the lair it seemed likely, but it also meant that the master was badly out of date. Spike’s chip hadn’t worked since he’d got the soul so he wouldn’t have had any problem dealing with humans.
Deep inside the lair she found him, huddled against the wall, arms over his head, the bodies of several humans, one or two fresh but most several days old, surrounding him.
Kneeling down she shook him gently, calling his name and trying to rouse him from his shock. He stirred and whimpered, pulling away from her, so Buffy resorted to stronger tactics, they needed to get away before the paramedics and police arrived, and she wasn’t leaving Spike behind.
“Come on, Spike. Get up. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Buffy?” As he raised his head she realised that he was in a worse mess than when Glory had tortured him, both eyes were bloodied and swollen, nose obviously broken and livid colouring bruises decorating the rest of his face. Their retreat was, of necessity, slow and painful but they managed to get out and reach Xander’s car just as the wail of sirens broke the silence.
They all returned to Revello Drive where Dawn was waiting with coffee and bandages, and it was a mute, scared group that sat together facing the reality of what they had happened.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
8th August 2003
“Come on Wes, don’t tell me you believe him. My hands are full with Cordy. What would I do with another one?”
The demon regarded Wesley with calculating eyes, waiting for a reaction. He was going to have to play this carefully. In a perfect world he would have turned the vampire hunter by now and already moved on to his skinny bitch, she promised to provide a few hours amusement at least. Unfortunately, it wasn’t ever going to be that easy. Angel was still a festering presence inside him, quiescent for the moment but capable of pushing him aside the moment he smelled a rat - always the idiot’s favourite food. So Angelus had to play his cards close to his chest. Slowly, slowly was the only way to go.
“You know, I think he’s jealous, with Fred spending all her time with us and leaving him on his lonesome. Bound to get him all hot under the collar. So now he’s throwing the mud about and seeing what sticks.”
It sounded like Angelus but that was impossible. The demon was, thank heaven, banished forever under the mantle of Cordelia’s soul. The Watcher kept his back to the vampire as he thought through what had happened. Gunn barging into the hotel that morning throwing about accusations that Angel had tried to hustle in on Fred, followed by a stand up argument between the two which had left Gunn confused and actually doubting his fiancée’s word. The vampire hunter had left determined to straighten things out, only to call later to tell Wesley he and Fred weren’t coming into the office and to ring their home if there was a job.
Wesley wasn’t sure what to think. On the one hand it seemed unlikely that Fred would lie about such a thing, but on the other she desperately wanted to go to Texas and this was as good a way as any to force Gunn into moving. If that was the case maybe it was better if they did leave. Without the visions there was only the regular work and Angel seemed to have boundless energy these days, Cordelia was certainly very good for him. Between the three of them there weren’t many things they couldn’t handle.
“Maybe you’re right. Though I think it might be the last straw. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to hear they intend to leave Los Angeles.”
Angelus allowed his face to droop into one of soul-boy’s broodier expressions. “I’ll miss them. They’ve been good friends.” Just tap into some of Angel’s goody goody words and…
“Yes. Yes, we all will.” Wesley turned back round with a sad smile and inside his head Angelus smirked. The Watcher believed him; the two irritants were shipping out leaving him free to play with Cordelia and his Childe’s lover. What a whole lot of fun.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
18th August 2003
The warm spatter of something liquid landing on his chest wakes him and the dense choking smell of petroleum fills his nostrils. And through the darkness he can just make out rank after rank of them surrounding the bed, ragged throats and missing limbs, grey blue entrails supported in bloody hands. Pride of place in the front row goes to his latest victims, the mercenaries from the vampire’s lair. Their voices creaking out.
“Me.”
“No, let me.”
“It’s my turn.”
Squabbling, passing vengeance back and forth. Until her voice breaks through.
“You sleep, don’t you.”
And if only part of him would move then he could explain. Tell her. Make her understand.
“I’ve seen you watching her. Looking at her. You want to touch, don’t you.”
No. Yes. God help him, yes he does. But he hasn’t, wouldn’t.
She reaches out a hand and nestled in her palm is a small cardboard book.
He watches, transfixed by her minute movements, distracted from the wailing ghosts, pitiable creatures never quite able to follow through. The sudden flare/glare blinding in the darkness, highlighting her features before she tosses it high, tumbling, burning, falling.
And only when it lands can he scream. As it ignites the liquid. Sending fast devouring flame shooting across torso and limbs. Hair, face, catching, blazing. All consuming. Agony unending and through it all her voice.
“You’re gonna wake up on fire.”
**
They say that dreams of alien abduction are caused by dream paralysis. That may or may not be true, but the idea of semi-waking nightmares is hardly a new one on Xander, he has the First Slayer to thank for that knowledge - thank you so very much. But during the past weeks his understanding of such things has reached whole new levels. Countless times in the last month he’s had to rescue Spike. What from, he’s never sure but whatever it is leaves the vampire screaming loud enough to have a distinct decibel impact on the neighbours. In fact if it keeps up much longer he really will have to think about soundproofing the room.
As the noise started up again he let the comic book drop from his hand and lay back on the couch, jamming the cushion over his head. He didn’t care how shitty he still felt, he was going back to work. It was the only way he was going to get any peace.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
19th August 2003
Dark, dark, dark. Where the hell was that bloody light switch. Wesley’s hand groped along the corridor wall and, finally locating it, flicked it. On. Off. On. Off. Nothing. The power must be out in the entire building. He should have got here sooner.
“Angel? Cordy?” Raising his voice slightly he picked his way forward unsure of what he may find. The phone call had been incoherent. Cordelia’s voice but with the whispered tones and loud sounds of struggle behind, he couldn’t be certain. All in all it wasn’t much more than a gasped out; “Help.”
His foot brushed against something on the floor, something fleshy and resistant, and the words ‘dead weight’ sprung unbidden into his head. He squatted down, cursing the lack of forethought that left his flashlight locked in the trunk of his car, and wondering for the nth time whether going back for it wouldn’t be the best idea. It was a body. Cooling, so it - no, she - had been dead for a while at least and he fished blindly for the head hoping to confirm or deny it was Cordelia. His fingers contacted only air. Headless then. The bile rose in his throat and he gasped in a mouthful of air, trying to block his nose to avoid the stench he knew would be rank on the air. The funny thing about bodies, how even after death they tended to continue with certain… functions.
A groan from the corner. A man’s voice? Angel. Backing away from the corpse on his hands and knees, Wesley crawled towards the sound finding first a foot - warmer than the corpse but still inhumanly cool - then the rest of a still form. As he reached the torso a hand grabbed his, pulling him closer until his face was inches away from a mouth panting for un-needed breath.
“Wes. Need you. Hurts so bad.”
Then fangs, unerringly finding the scar on his neck as if its position had been noted and logged for later use. And blood being pulled, first with a speed that made his head spin, then slowing, teasing. He was on top of Angel now, chest to chest, groin to groin - ashes to ashes - so when the inevitable pleasure began, heart racing, cock hardening, thrusting, grinding, it was a two way street and both players came with a moan and a shudder.
“Better.” Cool, whispered, over his open flesh and then a tongue, cleaning, laving and healing.
Pushed to one side, head spinning madly as he tried to move, Wesley registered Angel standing and walking away, and a moment later the hallway was flooded with light. He rolled sideways, managed to focus his eyes and saw her. What was left of her. Bits and pieces really although the torso remained fairly in tact. Lilah. Jesus Christ she may have been a bitch but no one deserved to die like that. Ripped apart.
“She won’t do that again. Stupid bitch. ”
Angel was at the end of the corridor, leaning heavily against the wall, his eyes still flashing slightly gold. He gestured towards the body and continued. “Object lesson, Wes. Don’t spell bind demons they tend to get antsy when the magic wears off.”
That would explain the bite, if the vampire was badly injured he had needed human blood to kick-start the healing, really Wesley should be grateful he hadn’t taken more. The last time or two had left him weak for days.
“C-Cordelia?”
“She’s great, isn’t she? What a trooper. Tucked away in her little bed with just me to defend her. What do you think, Wes? Should I go to her now or stop off for a quick shower. Get Lilah out of my system.
“S-shower.” Wesley kept his eyes appropriately lowered and tried not to show any signs of jealousy that Angel was going to Cordelia. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice was screaming at him, sounding strangely like himself, asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. But the vampire’s eyes had him now and he struggled to his feet, swaying slightly as he waited for his master’s command.
“Come to me, Watcher.” He started to walk only to be stopped as Angel continued. “No, I don’t think so. Pets that arrive late don’t deserve to walk. Crawling would be much more fitting.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
20th August 2003
Getting back to the house as the sun rose, Buffy had a couple of hours to herself before she needed to get Dawn packed off to summer school. A fresh pot of coffee later and she was sat poring through the local paper for any form of gainful employment that didn’t involve burgers. She was fed up with skin and hair that perpetually stank of grease, and a minimum wage job that sapped her energy, but left her frustrated and buzzy. Plus her nightly patrols chasing elusive but hungry vampires were currently making her thoroughly… stressed. Of course, her mood had nothing whatsoever to do with Spike avoiding her advances. She ran a finger down the listings glaring at the page, daring it to gainsay her in this. What really annoyed her was that he never actually rejected them and was always scrupulously polite about it. He just managed to be ‘elsewhere’ whenever she became overt and she ended up feeling like some kind of ho for making them. Which was ridiculous, he never refused her… except that once and, she was visible now, if he wanted to see her that was.
Her perusal and pondering were interrupted by the telephone and she reached over to pick it up, keeping her finger firmly on a job marked ‘school counsellor’.
“Buffy?”
“Hey, it’s my favoritist carpenter-guy. And what can this soon to be out of work again slayer do for ya?”
“You been fired?”
“Nah, just dreaming.”
“Oh. Okay. Umm. You’re off work today, right?”
“Yup. Today’s the day that is all mine.” And there was a deep bubble bath with her name on it.
“Can you drop by the apartment and watch out for the un-dead English Patient?”
“Dreams again, huh?” She was kissing her day off goodbye to play day nurse to avoidy-man. Stupid dreams.
“Yeah, like way bad ones. I found him trying to pull the blinds open yesterday. Not a healthy pass time and one guaranteed to leave unpleasant and hard to remove marks on the carpet.”
“No problemo. Buffy’s the gal for all your daytime vamp sitting needs.”
**
Three hours later, she was letting herself into Xander’s apartment, where the blinds were thankfully still down and silence reigned. A quick glance into Spike’s closet showed him to be fast asleep so she settled down with soda and videos. Not quite how she’d had planned spending her rare and valuable time off, but relaxing all the same. Recovery had been slow over the last couple of weeks, with Xander and Spike needing most help to get over the trauma of the raid. Willow turned up a reassuring forensic report which said the only fatalities had been the two mercenaries Spike had accidentally killed inside, the other’s had all been victims of ‘throat trauma’, Sunnydale speak for vampire attack.
Xander had returned to work today, having finally heard that his victim had pulled through and was dealing with what he’d nearly done. But, it was a different story for the vampire. Long after his physical injuries had healed, Spike was still suffering from recurring dreams, which he refused to discuss with anyone. Xander had been looking after him when he’d been home but now with the vampire alone all day, it was going to cause real headaches for the rest of them. They all had busy lives and the best they’d been able to come up with was locking him in his room to stop his inclination to take a walk in the sun when it got too bad.
It was a strange development for Buffy, despite Willow’s reports of how volatile Spike had been in LA and the occasional hint dropped by Giles, she still thought of Spike as the same. He certainly seemed mostly the same when he was around her, the snarky humour was only slightly curtailed and he was still a killer when they patrolled together. The major difference was that he no longer tried to persuade her into every crypt or alley while they were out. Stupid vampire.
As the day wore on and the stack of watchable videos shrank in inverse proportion to her boredom, she turned her thoughts to her vampire’s problems and came up with what she thought was a workable solution. She’d get him to talk to her, after all he’d been there for her when she came back from heaven, it was only fair she return the favour. The only question was whether to wait until he woke up or go in there now.
**
“Angel.”
Chocolate eyes darkened further with lust and desire filled his vision, and he felt butterfly touches down his spine perfectly complimenting the intense contact of chest on chest as their bodies moved as one, striving for completion. He could get lost in those eyes and be happy for the rest of eternity, never searching for a way to return. But as he watched they transformed, darkened, froze, becoming black instead of brown, burning with a chill he’d hoped was banished forever. Angelus. His movements stuttered and stopped. His Sire would destroy him for this trespass on his body and where once there was only love, fear filled his belly and spilled into his throat. He pulled away, crawling backwards in an effort to escape but the image refused to change, denying the movement he knew his body had made. A scream welling in his chest was stilled as again the eyes shifted, this time becoming blue, stormy steely, regarding him not with love but profound friendship, respect and lust, and it was Wesley’s body beneath him now, the human’s heat surrounding and possessing him. The Watcher’s limbs entwining with his and once again, he entered the comfort zone, able to relax and enjoy the passion of his dream. But even this was not immutable as other sensations began to encroach, the heat starting to build as if he were on fire, hands hotter and smaller than Wesley’s on his chest, and that all encompassing intoxicating smell he knew so intimately.
“Buffy.”
His eyes flicked open to confront hers and she was sat next to him on the bed, watching as he slept and dreamed, and for a moment he wondered if he’d compromised himself, muttering Angel’s name. It seemed unlikely, as her eyes contained no hatred or resentment, only quiet concern.
“You were dreaming.”
“I was.”
“Bad dreams?” She was making no move to get up and he was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable, if she moved even slightly she’d discover exactly what his dream had been like.
“No, actually. For once it wasn’t all blood and merry mayhem.” He wished it had been. Maybe if he concentrated really hard.
She did move this time, shifting around and folding her arms, looking determined. “You need to talk to me.”
He frowned. “About what?”
“Your dreams. Xander told me you tried to open the blinds again yesterday. It’s getting silly, Spike. You could end up dead - deader.”
“Well, I’m sorry if my little existential crises are inconvenient. I’ll tell you what; from now on I’ll only have them when it’s good for you, okay?” Damn she could be stupid. Did she really think he was doing this to be difficult?
“Hey! I’m trying to help here, so don’t start with the ‘tude, mister.”
“And you think you can just walk in here and say talk, and I’ll what? Spill my heart out to you? It’s not going to happen, Slayer.” He leaned past her reaching for his jeans, it was impossible to have this conversation with no clothes and a hard on he could dent concrete with.
She grabbed his hand before it got there, grasping his wrist and how could he have forgotten how damned strong she was. “You left.”
“I did.”
“And you went to him.” Did he spy just the teensiest bit of jealousy there?
“Yeah, and?”
Looking him straight in the eye, Buffy said the first thing that came into her head. The question that had been plaguing her dreams and fantasies for months.
“Did he fuck you? Is that why you went to him?”
“Excuse me?”
The shocked expression on his face at her language made her want to laugh. It had taken him weeks of cajoling to get her to use that word when they were together but since then Buffy had come to some startling conclusions about herself. If she hadn’t ‘come back wrong’ then everything she’d done with him, the things she’d really enjoyed, were all part of who she was, however dark and dirty.
“’Cos I was thinking. Why bother getting the soul and then not come back here. It doesn’t make any sense, unless there was someone else and the only person it can be is Angel. So like I said, did he fuck you?”
“For pities sake, woman.” He tried to pull away from her but she tightened her grip.
“Tell me. Is that what it is, ‘cos he doesn’t love you, you know. He loves Cordelia now, and just marvel at the freakiness of that.”
“No. I went to him for help, okay. Just… that’s all.”
If it hadn’t been for the way he dropped his eyes she might have believed him and she chortled at his obvious discomfort.
“I was right. All that time and it was him you were after. That was why you came to me that first time, wasn’t it? Not because he’d stolen your skanky girlfriend, but because he didn’t want you.”
The idea that Spike could have motivated by jealousy for Drusilla rather than over her, and that he’d been drooling around after Angel all that time had her seeing red. Maybe he had only come after her because she belonged to Angel, maybe he hadn’t wanted her at all. She lashed out verbally, “Jeez, you really are pathetic, Spike. What did you think, if you got a soul he’d actually give a damn?”
This time he did escape, yanking his arm away and scooting back across the bed, but she wasn’t finished, instead she leapt to her feet and continued the tirade, pacing back and forth across the room. And yes there was jealousy involved. Why should he have Angel when she couldn’t? It wasn’t fair and it wasn’t right.
“And when he threw you out, you thought you could come crawling back here as if nothing had changed, walk back into my life and pick up where we left off.”
“No. I told you… I don’t… I haven’t.”
“You’re telling me that isn’t what you want? ‘Cos I’ve seen you… watching me, when you think I’m not looking.”
Anger was pulsing through her, setting her nerves on fire and when he made for the door, holding the sheet round his hips, it was simple to fall back into familiar patterns of behaviour. Grabbing his shoulder she spun him round, pushing him roughly back against the door and pinned him with her eyes.
“Don’t you?”
Not even attempting to escape, he just looked away from her and it wasn’t good enough dammit. He’d got her all mad and now he was refusing to play. She wanted a fight.
She punched him.
Spike didn’t hit her back.
So she did it again. Needing him to look at her, to actually see her and acknowledge that there was still something between them. That what they’d had, however twisted, was real. How that kind of passion doesn’t just stop, even if one of them did run away. And for a moment she hated him. Hated that he had been able to move on and walk away without looking back. They were cowards, both of them, leaving her behind to deal with the ghosts and the memories. Alone.
But hatred is a funny thing, only half a step away from love and filled with desire. So when he still refused to fight and turned away from her - she kissed him and kept kissing him until she felt him start to respond.
And despite his initial reluctance, his hands soon joined hers, the sheet dropping to the floor as they jointly pulled at her clothes until they were both naked. Then falling backwards towards the bed, their lips never breaking contact for a moment, renewing their acquaintance with taste and touch. Her breath was heavy in her chest and her skin was on fire from his cool touch, her legs coming up to wrap around his waist, arms tight around his neck. This was what she remembered, the passion between them, the rawness of their need that allowed her to do nothing but feel. His body heavy on her, her nipples hard, swollen and tight crushing against his chest, their tongues plunging and she needed him, wanted him inside her. She shifted her hips until the tip of his cock was nudging at her entrance and felt him freeze in her arms and start to pull away. His fists were pushing either side of her on the pillow and he was shaking his head muttering.
“No. This is wrong. Shouldn’t happen, mustn’t happen.”
God damn, what was his problem? It was obvious he wanted her, as much as she wanted him, there was ample evidence of that poking at her. She locked her ankles together and reached down between them, grasping his erection, stroking him in long smooth movements eliciting a sobbing moan in her ear as his head dropped down against her shoulder.
“Please.” Stop, don’t do this. They were friends not lovers. He didn’t need the extra complication this was going to bring and it wasn’t right. ‘You’re gonna wake up on fire.’ But she was tilting her hips again and teasing him, rubbing him against her wet heat, scorching his flesh and the muscles in his back were straining to try and pull away, and he felt another sound burst from his throat.
“Buffy, please.” ‘You’re gonna wake up on fire.’ She was kissing him again, securing her hold on him, dragging him down on top of her, until he slid into her. And then all he could do was be ‘cos he’d forgotten, just how hot, and just how tight, and just how fucking wonderful it felt when her muscles tightened around him.
It was like coming home, feeling him deep inside her and Buffy pressed into him, canting her hips for maximum contact and pleasure, using her full strength to hold him still while she rocked against him. This was a game they’d played a hundred times before. One night she’d held him this way for hours, his body bringing her to orgasm again and again, she not letting him take her properly until he’d wept on her shoulder in frustration, he was so desperate to come.
And she did the same thing now, enjoying the feeling of power it gave her to reduce this Slayer of Slayers to nothing but a trifle for her pleasure. Loving the way he begged her, “Buffy, please,” and “Jesus fuck, no.” The way his back felt under her hands as he tried to move, buttocks flexing against her heels as she ground her clit hard against his pubic bone, her pussy clenching rhythmically around him until he whimpered in her ear.
But she wanted to hear him scream her name, wanted to know that it really was her he was fucking, not Angel or Dru, or any whore he may have picked up while he was on the road. So she tried something Anya had revealed during a girl’s night in, when the ex-demon had regaled her and Willow with stories that left them squirmy and embarrassed, wondering how they were ever going to look Xander in the face again. Letting her legs slip down Spike’s thighs, she used one hand to pull him into a deep kiss while she pressed the other between them, sliding her fingers into the wetness where his cock filled her. He moaned into her mouth as she stroked them both making everything impossibly hotter, until her insides felt like liquid fire before transferring her attentions purely to him.
He shuddered deeply against her when she breached him, breaking their lips apart and matching her curious gaze with his shocked confused one. She could see a question trying to form on his lips but it was never completed as with the second finger, his eyes slammed shut and his breath started to come in short pants, hips working even harder to move. It was somewhere, the thing she was searching for, and she hummed into his ear as she concentrated on finding that magic sweet spot that Anya had described. Maybe vampires didn’t have it? Maybe it was just a human thing? But no. There. She pressed down slightly and he jerked against her, a curse dropping from his lips and chilling her neck, all sending goose bumps racing across her skin. Again, and the same reaction, possibly even more desperate and yes, this time she would have him.
Brooking no quarter as he swore and tried to get away, she fucked him hard with her fingers, keeping up her hold on his thighs and neck and clamping down on his cock. Hopelessly aroused she rubbed herself distractedly against him, aiming to bring them off together. Through the fog of lust in her mind she heard him start to keen, an animalistic sound in his chest that reverberated through her body sending tingles from her scalp to her toes and back to her clit. She could feel the tension in his body as he started to come, hips writhing frantically at his frustrated primal need to thrust and jerk, flooding her body with coolness. His hands tightening on her shoulders seemed to push her away as much as they were pulling them together and for the first time she felt the change come over him; the bones of his face shifting against her neck as his demon emerged. At the sudden touch of his fangs panic swept over her, driving away the carnality and desire she was feeling within moments.
Loosing her hold on him, she shoved him violently away from her and he flew backward off the bed to land with a thud on the floor, leaving her shaking in fear and anger. It had never happened before, not with Angel and never with Spike. It was the man she took into her bed not the beast, and she trusted him to respect that and her. It was unforgivable that he would allow his demon so dangerously close to her. Righteous rage filled her heart, and she threw herself off the bed reaching for her discarded clothing determined to walk out and ignore his pathetic pleas for her to stay.
But he wasn’t pleading; he wasn’t even shocked. He was laughing at her! Lying at her feet, mocking her pain and her horror, and through her fury she didn’t register the self-deprecating note in his voice.
“What’s up love? Demon too much for you? Can’t be having that now, can we? Might just remind you what we really are.”
Spike was on his feet as well now, still amber-eyed and moving toward her as she struggled to pull on her skirt and blouse, trying to block his words from her ears. He put out a hand, catching her arm and she pulled away from him, hissing.
“Don’t touch me. You have no right to touch me, ever again. I trusted you.”
For a moment Spike was silenced by her words but then he started again, this time more angry than mocking, and gesticulating wildly. “That’s all we are to you, isn’t it. Toys to pick up and put down as and when you please. Jesus Christ woman, did you honestly think I wanted what just happened? A bit of tit for tat. Is that what it was?”
But she wasn’t hearing him, and with a sinking heart he realised that yet again she had interpreted everything through her own self centred lens. As if in confirmation she finished dressing and made for the door, pushing past him, saying, “Stay away from me. I swear if you ever come near my family or me again I will kill you.”
As he heard the door slam shut he sank onto the bed and put his head in his hands, still reeling from what had happened. “God help us, Buffy. It’s not always all about you.”
**
There were basically two options. He could leave or stay. If he left where could he go? LA was certainly out, and his time on the road had effectively eaten through the small amount of money he’d managed to stash away when he was with Wesley. Finding paying work would be nigh on impossible, when your skills ran in the hack and kill department the only real job offers came from demons, and he wasn’t a popular chap in those circles these days. The other option? Stay put until the Slayer and her cronies came back to finish the job. Shit. Shit. Shit. Spike paced up and down the small room, getting increasingly frustrated and fairly typically that frustration was turning to anger. He kicked the small cupboard that housed his few belongings and it rocked violently before falling forwards, shooting the lamp and ashtray to the floor.
With a snarl he kicked out again, reducing the inoffensive piece of furniture to firewood and most likely leaving his clothes full of nasty splinters. It was hopeless. There was no way out of this one; he was well and truly buggered. He slid down the wall and sat staring morosely at the pile of bits he’d ‘acquired’ during his patrols. Was there anything in that lot worth hocking? Some uncounted gem or ancient artefact just waiting to be identified? He shook his head. It was all crap but he started going through it anyway, mostly for something to do. Halfway down he found the book of spells, the one he was going to give to the witch. He picked it up and ran his hand over the cover before bringing it to his face and sniffing. Human skin. Nice. Some demons had no taste. Probably shouldn’t pass it on to Red then, she might take it the wrong way. The thought made him smile and he flicked through the pages until he came across the slip of paper that marked the page of the soul extraction spell.
Although not a magic user himself, Spike had spent enough time in Dru’s company to understand the basics and he sat and read it through, looked at the list of paraphernalia, studied the ritual, closed the book and put it to one side. After ten minutes he picked it up again, reread it, and sat staring at the page. Could this be the answer? After all without his soul he’d have shagged Buffy without a second thought and then gone back for more. Without his soul he could easily get a job doing some demon’s dirty work living the high life until he found out a way of getting rid of the chip - if it still worked. Hell, Angelus had told him that there were people who could do it. What was the point of having his soul anymore? Angel didn’t want him, never would now. All it offered was an eternity of pain and guilt, which frankly he could do without.
The sun went down unnoticed, the telephone rang and went unanswered, and finally it was only a quiet knock on the door of his room and it being opened that roused Spike from his deliberations.
“You in here?” It was Xander, still in his work clothes. He must have gone out straight from the site, which meant something big must have gone down - which meant he must have seen Buffy! Spike chucked the book into the corner and quickly got to his feet, still not sure whether he wanted to defend himself from the stake or welcome it.
“You here do it then? The Slayer not got enough guts to come herself?”
“Huh?”
“To stake me.”
The man frowned, confused. “What are you on about, Spike? I’m only being the concerned host ‘cos Buffy said you had some freaky dream and wigged her out.”
And now there were two of them who didn’t know what the hell was going on. “Buffy said that?”
“Yeah. When she came to wake you up, you went all grr on her. Then told her to get out, which by the way, is so out of line. This is my house and if anyone’s going to ban the Buffster, it’s gonna be me.”
Maybe it wasn’t real. Spike ran his hands through his hair and brought them to his face. No, he could smell her, and dreams didn’t have smells did they? Well, his did, but the scents didn’t tend to linger afterwards or smell quite so good.
He sank back against the wall, bafflement painted on his face. “What the hell is going on?”
“What’s not to get, bleach-boy. You… having a nasty widdle dream… getting all growly, pretty simple stuff. Oh, she did say being around her made it worse, so as of now you’re off patrol duty. Plus, and here’s the big out-of-the-blue bonus for you. No more research, being as how hers is the party house and that’s now a no-Spike zone.”
At last it clicked into place. Just like before, Buffy didn’t want him near her but she still wanted him around in case he came in useful. “Right. I get it. Good enough to be her sodding toy so long as I don’t get too close, yeah? Bitch.” Anger fast rising again, Spike thumped the wall leaving a sizeable dent in the plaster.
“Whoa. Hang on a minute, buddy. That’s my plaster you’re hitting and… what the hell do mean ‘her toy’? You two weren’t… my god, you were.” Xander didn’t know whether to be shocked or horrified. Buffy had sworn there was nothing going on between her and Spike, and yet?
The vampire was pacing, face flickering between distraught and furious, and all Xander could do was watch and listen as the whole tale came out.
“She walks in here like she bloody owns the place. Goes off half-cocked about Angel and me and some such. And why the hell did I come back here if it wasn’t for her. Getting right nasty too. So, I thought, time for yours truly to leave. And I’m going. Halfway to the bloody door, she grabs me. Starts pushing me around again. And I can see she’s itching for a fight. It’s burning her up. All that killing Slayer energy and nowhere to put it. Then she hits me. Fucking punches me. Out of nothing. But I’m not gonna fight her. Not again. Not any more. So I’m just standing there and then…”
Voice trailing off, Spike stopped pacing and stared at the wall silent for a moment, and when he started speaking again the voice was much quieter and Xander recognised the tone.
“I tried to stop her, you know. But I’d forgotten how strong she is and I let her get too close to me. It was foolish, irresponsible, and now everything is ruined. All of it destroyed. I wanted to be her friend and I thought we’d finally made a connection.”
At that word Xander’s throat pinched shut and his lips went dry. A connection. He remembered thinking that once, that he had a connection with someone. And although his first instinct had been to disbelieve everything the vampire was saying, there was something about his voice and the tale he was telling that brought back memories the young man thought he had buried safely away years ago. This might be Buffy and not Faith they were talking about, but it was there in both of them. He’d seen it in her eyes when the hunt was on and she was whaling on some demon. And while most of the time he was just happy it was her and not him, there had been occasions when he’d wanted to say just kill it. Enough with the quips and the flashy moves. It’s down, it’s out, finish it already.
His voice was as quiet as Spike’s had been and pretty much all he could do at this point was share.
“A few years ago there was this thing with Faith. I thought we had a connection. That we were friends. I couldn’t have been more wrong and things got nasty, about as nasty as things can get. If… and please don’t listen while I say this but, if it hadn’t been for Angel, I’d be dead. She was busy with the killing of me when he hit her with a baseball bat. Knocked her out cold. I mean, I could have got her wrong what with the being unconscious and all, but she was either trying to get in my pants or kill me, or possibly both. And I don’t know if that helps any but hey, I’m trying, so ya gotta give me credit for that, huh?”
When he’d finished Xander stood with his head down, staring at his feet. He’d never actually told anyone about that night. Angel knew, obviously but nothing had ever been said. The vampire had simply sent him home with instructions to stay there while he took care of Faith. As far as Xander knew there was only the three of them… well, four now, that had any idea.
He wasn’t really expecting the dumbfounded question that came next. “You believe me? I’m talking about Buffy, right? And you believe me?”
With a shrug, Xander looked up into blue eyes that looked shaken to the core. “Yeah. I guess so. Can’t see why you’d lie. I mean, Buffy didn’t say that you two were… you know. So, why tell me, risking unhappiness and major stakeage unless it’s true?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
23rd August 2003
It had taken virtually all his willpower to write the final message, and what remained to post it. When the envelope fell from his hand into the mailbox, it took with it what self-identity he had left. Turning slowly away, Wesley rubbed callused fingers across the plethora of marks on his neck and shuffled painfully back to his apartment to continue packing. Tonight would be the last night he slept alone. Tomorrow he was moving to take his rightful place at the hotel.
Atop the pile of mail waiting to be delivered lay a letter, addressed to ‘Spike c/o Ms. W. Rosenberg, 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale.’ and marked in large red letters, Urgent.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
3rd September 2003
“I don’t care what you say, I’m going.”
“You walk out of this house Dawn, and I’ll…”
“What? Ground me? And how are you going to do that? You’re out all the time, Buffy. Working or patrolling. And Willow doesn’t like what you’re doing either. So if I go round she’ll probably be there too.”
Having had no luck with parental, Buffy tried explaining. “Dawn, you don’t get it. Having us around is making him worse.”
“That is so not true and you know it.” She ignored her sister’s look and carried on. “Whatever it is with you two I don’t wanna know, but I’m going to Xander’s, now.” With that Dawn stalked out of the house leaving a silent and seriously worried Buffy in her wake.
**
“Dawn.” Xander opened the door with a big smile on his face, which rapidly switched to a grimace and he glanced up and down the corridor. “Does Buffy know you’re here, ‘cos a scary slayer sister is not on my list of things to do tonight?”
She pushed past him with a teenage shrug and dropped her bag to the floor. “Don’t know, don’t care. She’s…”
“Enough already. That’s your sister you’re talking about and she’s…”
“Authoritarian, controlling and bossy. Need I say more?”
“No. I think that just about covers it. But she’s also my friend.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “And as of now, no longer someone I want to discuss. How’s the patient?”
Xander turned to look towards the living area. “Testy, you know how vampires get when you take away their privileges and don’t fetch the beer quickly enough. I thought I was the object of your visit?”
Shooting him a quick grin, Dawn flounced passed. “Hmm. Both of you. Hey, Spike. How’s the head?”
The vampire slit open his eyes and winced when she flopped down on the end of the couch. “Just peachy, and don’t shout.”
“Sorry.”
Xander heard the stage whisper from the kitchen and called through. “Play nice you two or I’ll not be making snacks.”
“Snacks? He makes you snacks?”
“Don’t ask. And if he offers you something you don’t recognise I wouldn’t risk it. Harris’ idea of cooking begins and ends with the microwave.” He started to sit but gave up and slumped back with a moan, putting a hand dramatically to his head.
Dawn tutted sympathetically and pulled a blanket off a nearby chair, tucking it round the recumbent figure before pottering into the kitchen to find Xander.
“The vision. When was it?”
“That gave him the ouchies? Yesterday…morning.”
She frowned and scrunched her nose up at his words. “Not so good, huh?”
There was another groan from behind them and they both turned to see Spike tottering towards his room. “If you two are gonna chatter, I’m going back to bed.” He shut the door very quietly behind him.
They stood watching the door for a moment then Dawn grabbed her bag from by the counter and turned to Xander saying, “So, err, I found these in Buffy’s room.”
“You searched Buffy’s bedroom? Boy, are you in for…” He stopped when she handed him a pile of letters, postmarked LA, the top one marked Urgent in red ink.
“They’re addressed to Spike and Willow, but I don’t think either of them have seen them.” Dawn turned the top one over. “See. Not opened.”
Xander shuffled through them. Like the first, the rest were still sealed and showed no signs of having been tampered with. Buffy must have taken them as soon as they arrived without letting anyone know they had. It was a shock. He knew she was still very upset by what had happened last year and more than angry with Angel but to do this? It was beyond petty.
“Shall I get him?”
He looked up and shook his head. “No. They’ve waited this long. I’ll give them to him tomorrow evening when I get back from work.”
**
Her head was spinning and her stomach lurched when she tried to stand, and she doubled over retching. If there had been anything at all inside her she’d have brought it back for sure, but given that the last time she’d eaten… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. With a shaking hand Cordelia reached for the cupboard and pulled herself up, using it’s solid support to still the room’s tendency to slide sideways. After a few moments she took a tentative step forward, then another and eventually made it to the doorway, breathing heavily as her every movement jarred her body past the point of comfort. Door opened, she lurched into the corridor, nearly falling but managing to stagger into the opposite wall and retain her feet.
The next stage was trickier and there wasn’t a lot of time. He would be back from seeing Wes soon and if he caught her out of her room, he’d be very annoyed. She needed to find the telephone or, if that was no longer working, which was likely, get out of the hotel and find help. From somewhere deep inside she summoned up more strength and braced her shaking legs, studiously ignoring the cuts and bruises which adorned her skin. Skin which used to be sleek and tanned but now looked as pale as the vampire’s. That was what staying inside for the best part of two months did for you, it really didn’t work for her as a beauty treatment.
Finally - the balcony and the stairs.
“Cordy.” Her name was purred from the shadows and the hairs on her body sprung to attention at the sound. “Going somewhere?”
And now she realised why the building had seemed so empty when she left her room. The screams had stopped.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
5th September 2003
“When did these arrive?”
The letters were thrown in Xander’s face the moment he walked in from work and the vampire’s tone immediately put him on the defensive. “You’ve been going through my room? I put these in my room.”
“I asked when they bloody arrived, Harris!”
A flash of gold in Spike’s eyes convinced him of the seriousness of the question and he stuttered out an answer. “D-Dawn brought them round, the other night.” He held up a hand when the vampire snarled. “I didn’t know about them until after you’d gone to bed and I figured they’d waited this long…”
Spike turned away from him, shaking his head and grabbing his duster from the couch. “Give me your keys.”
“What?”
“Give me the sodding car keys. I need to get to LA and I don’t have transport.”
The car was nearly new. It was Xander’s pride and joy, and his hand tightened round the keys in his pocket. He was familiar with the way Spike drove and the only way he was giving them up was over his dead body. Which, he thought as he was advanced on by an amber eyed and extremely pissed off vampire, could happen any moment.
“Whoa. Hang on a minute. The sun’s not down, so unless you plan on giving my car a paint job - and that is so not gonna to happen - I’m the man behind the wheel.”
“Right then. Get your bleedin’ arse moving, we’re picking Red up on the way.” A swirl of leather followed the vampire out of the door.
Xander only paused to gather the letters before hurrying after him.
**
He had his foot to the floor, or as far down as he could get it without actually breaking the speed limit, and they were an hour out of LA. So far the conversation in the car had consisted of Spike swearing at him to go faster from the back seat where he was huddled under a blanket, and Willow gasping and oh-ing in the front as she read the letters. Between the two of them it was surprising he hadn’t gone stark staring mad.
“Get a bloody move on, Harris. Doing a tonne in this shouldn’t be hard even for a loser like you.”
“And what are you gonna do when we get pulled over, Spike? Eat the patrolman?” A low growl suggested it was a distinct possibility.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.”
“Wills, stop with the ‘oh-godding’ and tell me what you’re ‘oh-godding about.”
“It’s… oh…”
“Willow!”
Finally she started to read extracts from Wesley’s letters:
Angel’s taken Connor’s death very badly. I think he blames himself, as he was the only one with his son when it happened. If you get this in time, please come back for his funeral, I’m sure Angel would want you to be there...
It’s strange how grief affects different people in different ways. Fred has been inconsolable and Gunn is stoic in supporting her through this difficult time. Angel and Cordelia seem to have grown closer, they spend all their time together. Cordy’s even started keeping similar hours and they’re sharing a room again. It’s nice but when I look at them, it makes me feel lonely…
He wants you back, but if I were you Spike I’d stay away for the moment. I’m not sure why Angel is reacting like this, maybe it’s because he misses Connor and sees you as some sort of surrogate son. I do find it perplexing that he keeps calling you ‘his boy’, however. That is the way Angelus refers to you, yes? Perhaps you could write back and give me a number to call. It would be nice to speak with you…
A busy few days. There must be a new master in town because suddenly we’ve been swamped with fledges. The first batch appeared not far from the hotel and Angel was determined in his efforts to destroy them all. Last night Gunn found a new nest several blocks away and he and I dealt with them. Angel was busy with Cordelia, she’s been getting headaches recently, and we didn’t want to call him away…
Cordelia seems quiet and subdued. I suggested to Angel that he should persuade her to see a doctor and I hope he takes my advice. I’m starting to wonder if there may be some lasting effects from her time with the Powers. That would go a long way in explaining her mood and the recent decline in her health…
The past week has been hell. In short Fred and Gunn have left, under something of a cloud. Fred seemed to think Angel was trying to seduce her. I did try to explain that it was unlikely. He’s so totally devoted to Cordelia I don’t think he has eyes for anyone else…
I miss you. Things are difficult without the others. I hardly see Cordelia and Angel is strangely attentive…
This isn’t easy for me to explain and I do hope it doesn’t upset you. I’ve been very lonely since you left, and about two weeks ago Angel was badly hurt. He needed blood quickly and I offered mine. I remembered the way you had fed from me, and honestly I think I just wanted to experience that exquisite pleasure again. I have to tell you, Spike, Angel and I have become lovers…
Cordelia is very ill. I spoke to the doctor and he thinks she has some kind of blood disorder. We’ve shut down the agency until she recovers…
I think Angel has gone mad. I think he may have murdered Lilah. I think maybe he’s killing Cordelia as well…
Tonight I am moving into the hotel. Angel insisted and god help me, I no longer have the will to resist him. If you get this letter, Spike, please forgive me. I think my careless stupidity may have killed us all…
“That last letter was dated twelve days ago.”
As Willow’s voice trailed away they travelled on in silence, the car speeding faster than Xander had ever driven.
**
Someone finally had to break the hush.
“So is the thought that I’m having the same thought as you guys? And if it is, how are we dealing?”
Willow shifted uncomfortably and turned to look at Spike. “I-I think… I mean I’m not sure…b-but…”
“Angelus is back.” All three quailed from actually hearing their worst fear spoken aloud but it had to be said, it was the only way they could start dealing.
“I thought he was all not-coming-outy now.”
“It’s not really that simple, Xander. Angelus is still there, he always will be. It’s just… I’m not sure how he…”
“Can’t see as it matters. Stake him first ask questions after.” As he said the words Spike realised he was finally ready to do it. He’d had enough and if killing Angelus meant losing Angel, his Sire was never his to begin with anyway.
“That’s the plan then. We pile in there and stake the vamp. Simple yet effective, I think I like it.”
“No.” The two in the front started to complain, but Spike wasn’t listening. “You two stay away from Angelus. Leave him to me. Just… I don’t know, rescue the others or something.”
**
The lobby of the hotel lay in silent darkness, shrouded in relentless traffic noise as the last of the weekend workers made their way home. Not the smallest sound or sign of movement broke the overriding stillness that pervaded the building. Beneath the balcony, just visible in the deep shadows, were two figures, twisted together hunching and contorted. Male and female, dark and blonde, a parody of lovers, clasped like Romeo and Juliet in the death throes of passion.
As he approached them Spike tasted the air catching the rank sweetness of days old death, and swallowed back the immediate feeling of nausea the pungent smell evoked. They were too late.
“Angel.” He knelt next to the huddled vampire putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Let go, mate. She’s gone.”
There was no reaction. No blinking of eyes dried from days of staring sightless into a personal hell, no flexing of fingers tangled in blonde locks clotted with stale hardened blood.
“Spike! What’s happen… Oh my god.”
As the others entered Spike rose to his feet, putting himself between them and the body of their friend. There was no need for them to see. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
“Is she…?”
“Yeah. A couple of days at least.” Xander started to approach and he put up a hand warding him off. “Don’t, there’s nothing you can do here.
“I’ll call the paramedics.” Willow was already moving towards the telephone on the reception desk, and before Spike could tell her not to she had it in her hand. “Phone’s out.”
“Yeah. I tried earlier. That’s what made me think…”
“The worst.”
“’Xactly.”
The vampire had moved towards her as they spoke, leaving Xander a clear view of the couple in the shadows. It was only when they heard the man’s low cry that they realised and Willow ran to him, grabbing his face and pulling him round to look at her and not Cordelia’s body.
“Xan, sweetie. Please.” She was pulled into his arms and he buried his head in her shoulder. They stood wrapped together and shaking from the shock.
After a few moments Xander raised his head to stare at Spike, grinding out, “Why is he still fucking alive? You said you were going to dust him.”
“It’s not Angelus.”
The man shoved Willow to one side. “How do you know? Not that it matters. He killed Cordy, ergo he dies.” As he spoke, Xander pulled a stake from his jacket pocket and turned back towards Angel.
“Thank god. I didn’t think you guys were ever going to get here. Talk about slow on the uptake.”
Three confused faces searched the lobby for the source of the disembodied voice eventually settling on a strange glow emanating from a spot on the first floor balcony. As they watched it floated towards the stairs and, as it descended, slowly resolved into - Cordelia!
“Jees guys. What’s with the standing around. Come on already. Xander, put the stake away and get upstairs, room 216. Wesley’s still alive and needs help, and that’s what we do. Help the hopeless.”
“You’re… you’re…”
“Dead? Well, duh. The loser makes an unexpected trip to the top of the class. Ghost Xander. As in dis-incorporated spirit. You didn’t really think I was going to just leave.”
They stood staring at the glowing woman in complete shock as her face started to reflect her growing frustration at their inaction.
“Wes. Now. Move.”
Her words were enough to get them shifting and the two humans ran up the stairs leaving Spike alone with the ghost and Angel. The moment they were out of sight Cordelia approached the astonished vampire, bringing up an insubstantial hand to his face. There was no sensation of being touched, it was more like a warm breath passing over his skin, strange and comforting and…right. And with the touch came knowledge. This was no malignant force or restless spirit; Cordelia was where she belonged, with her friends and family, in her home. It wasn’t vengeance that bound her here but love.
“Do you understand now?” She smiled at him and wrinkled her nose. “Come on, buster. Wes is going to need the paramedics and explaining Angel might be a bit complicated.”
Pulling himself round with a slight shake of his head Spike looked askance at the figures on the floor. “I’m right then. That is Angel and not Angelus.”
“Yup. The moment I died he got the entire soul. That was the problem, him having to share. Part of a soul wasn’t enough to keep a demon like Angelus under wraps.”
The love she still felt glowed on her face as she spoke and Spike glanced from one to the other in some confusion. “I have to say I didn’t peg you for the forgiving kind. I would have expected a little bitterness what with him killing you and all.”
“He didn’t kill me. Angelus was chasing me so I ran away and fell right through the gap in the balcony.” She huffed in irritation and glared up at the balustrade that Spike and Angel had damaged the previous year. “I told him to fix that months ago but no, it was always, ‘Oh Cordy, we can’t really afford it’ or ‘I’ll get it done next week’. Honestly, men.”
“So, umm, how we gonna move him?”
“Don’t look at me. You’re super-strength guy. Snap to it mister, get those muscles flexing.”
As he moved to comply a small sigh escaped Spike’s lips. Living with Cordelia’s ghost was going to be just as much fun as the real thing.
**
By the time the ambulance arrived for Wesley and another from the coroners’ office for the body, Spike had managed to get Angel upstairs. The older vampire was virtually catatonic from shock and only brute force had persuaded him to release his hold on Cordelia. That achieved, Spike had dragged him bodily up the stairs, complaining all the while about bloody Irish navvy Sires and their lack of consideration for poor put upon childer. Xander looked on from the door torn between amusement at Spike’s commentary and horror at what they had found upstairs. Willow had been the first into the room and the colour had dropped from her face when she saw the man on the bed. The redhead was with him now using her magics to keep him stable, and had sent Xander back down to call for the paramedics, arguing that Wesley would probably prefer not to have another man around. Having spotted the worst of his injuries before Willow pulled the sheet over the man’s bloodied body, Xander had concurred and left without further argument.
“Cordy?” He wandered in to lobby and looked around curiously.
“Hey, Xand.”
Xander jumped round and squealed when she appeared behind him. “Holy baloney, Cordelia. Don’t do that. Can’t you knock or something.”
“And how exactly am I gonna do that. Do you actually understand the concept of dis-incorporated or did you skip class that day.”
“Well it’s good to see death hasn’t seen the mellowing of all things Queen C.”
She frowned at him in irritation before looking towards the stairs. “Out with it Xander. I’m busy.”
“Oh, umm, nothing really. I was just sorta wondering if Angel was okay. He looked kinda out of it.”
“He’ll deal. He has to. I’m not letting him give it up now.”
“Huh?”
“It’s my soul he’s toting around, and I’m gonna make damn sure he gives it a good work out.”
The wail of sirens outside interrupted their bonding session and Xander shot outside to help.
**
“Come on, mate. Let’s get you cleaned up.” After hauling Angel’s ass up the stairs and into his room, all Spike really wanted to do was dump him on the bed but it really wasn’t an option. The smell was terrible, his clothes were covered in the juices that had started to seep from the corpse and his skin, frankly Spike wasn’t about to check. Hot water and large quantities of soap and soon were the only answer.
Having opened the window to let in some fresh air, he stripped them both and dumped the befouled clothes out of the window, promising himself he would tidy up later. The next task was more difficult and having man-handled Angel into the shower, he wedged him in the corner and turned on the water, trying to stay out of the freezing spray until it warmed up. All the time he was chatting hoping to elicit a reaction and objectively speaking there did seem to be an improvement, at least Angel was blinking now.
“Right then let’s start at the top and work down, shall we mate?”
He soaped and lathered and rinsed, then started again this time taking more care and trying to get a physical response rather than simply get his Sire clean. Working the soapy sponge firmly first across Angel’s shoulders and back, Spike massaged muscles which were tightened to breaking point from so many hours in the same position. Taut thighs were the same and bruising on his buttocks suggested he’d not fed well enough to stop the start of what looked like pressure sores, a ridiculous concept for vampires with no bloody circulation. Spike shook his head as he worked, it was going to be a job and a half getting Angel back to health, mental and physical, and it wouldn’t be a quick one either.
Finally finished with the back, he gently pushed and turned the older vampire until he was facing towards him. At that point it was a little difficult to ignore the erection that poked him in the hip, and he grinned as he rubbed more soap on the sponge.
“Looks like part of you is enjoying the wash, pet.”
When there was no response he smiled sadly. “Never thought I’d see this day come, Sire. Bloody travesty it is. Not like you killed her. Silly bint did herself in. Although give her fair dues she was trying to get away from you at the time."
He laughed hollowly and dropped the sponge into the shower, using his hands to continue his task. “Just listen to me. That’s not gonna help is it. Not sure what is.”
Soap smeared hands tracked across Angel’s chest anointing the flesh with sweeter smelling chemicals, none of which did a thing to conceal the Sire scent he exuded, and Spike felt himself hardening in response. Damn, this wasn’t what he had in mind. The old feller needed R and R not a quick shag in the shower. Having said that…
What was it Buffy had sung to him, the night they’d first kissed? ‘I just want to feel.’ And isn’t that what he’d done for her. Made her feel, made her see that the world was real again. Maybe the same thing would work for Angel. He cocked his head and stared into Angel’s eyes. There was no sign of recognition or consciousness there, and he was so unsteady on his feet it was only Spike’s hands on him that were keeping him vertical.
“Guess anything much in here’s out of the question. Don’t want you nose diving into the tray.”
He finished up quickly and got them both back to the bed, positioning Angel carefully and as comfortably as he could on his back with his arms at his sides. Spike wanted to be able to reach his hands because this was about more than sex, it was about making a connection, making someone feel but in a good way this time. He pottered fussily, part of him wanting to delay what he was about to do as that same part of him was scared it wouldn’t work, and if it didn’t he really hadn’t the foggiest idea what else to try.
Finally happy with his Sire’s position and unable to put off any longer, he carefully placed a kiss on unresponsive lips before laying between Angel’s parted thighs. Taking one of his hands in his own, Spike looked up at him.
“Come back to me all right, Angel. And I just…I want you… oh, bloody hell, I love you, yer daft git.”
He ducked his head hiding his embarrassment at the disclosure, even though there was no one to hear, and nuzzled his face into the soft, wiry curls at the base of Angel’s now flaccid cock. A small smile spread across his face as it twitched in response, so he tongued the base and rubbed his cheek against the satin hardening length. Keeping a tight hold of Angel’s hand, he used his spare one to start slowly stroking the burgeoning erection whilst mouthing gently at the soft skin of his sac. It was strange; there was no response beyond the physical, no hitch of breath, no tightening of the grip on his hand. Angel lay completely quiescent under his ministrations staring blindly at the ceiling and for a brief moment Spike wondered if he was doing the right thing. Was he taking advantage or trying to help?
Pushing such doubts aside as being useless, he took each testicle in turn into his mouth, using his lips and tongue to stimulate and massage the sensitive organs, feeling Angel become rock hard in his hand and the first traces of precome start to dampen his fingers. Needing to taste as well as feel, he slipped up the bed and swiped his tongue across the head of Angel’s cock, gathering the few precious drops. With closed eyes, he rolled the flavour around in his mouth and felt tears welling up inside him, it had been so long, nearly eight months since he’d touched his Sire in this way and had the pleasure of tasting him. He blinked them back cursing his sentimentality, god, he was such a wuss.
That said, he wasn’t going to stop at one taste and enclosed the head of Angel’s cock in his mouth, using his lips to stimulate more of that wondrous fluid, letting it bathe his taste buds and heighten his own ardour. As it grew so did his desire for more, and he deepened his strokes progressively taking Angel deeper into his throat, a contented purr rumbling in his chest. And nearly choked when the hand gripped tightly in his twitched. It was working! With a combination of humming purrs, lips and tongue Spike continued his ministrations, stilling his movements every time he sensed Angel might be about to come. This had to be good, really good, to succeed. It was only when he started to hear shallow breaths being drawn into long still lungs that he let himself relax and go with the flow, taking and swallowing every drop when Angel finally jerked into his throat and came long and hard.
For long moments there was nothing and Spike felt hope start to die - a voice inside him screaming that it hadn’t worked. But then he looked up, expecting to find the impassive face he seen before and instead saw silent tears tracking down Angel’s face. It wasn’t just tears. He scooted up the bed and as he watched, Angel’s bottom lip started to quiver and a violent sob burst from his mouth. Simply relieved that his sire was no longer trapped is his own hellish memory, Spike gathered the distraught man into his arms, and let him shake and cry for as long as he needed.
At last the tremors ceased, the salt tears stopped flowing and the sobbing breaths subsided into slow deep ones that stilled into nothing as Angel slept. Spike looked down at the dark head cradled against his chest and thoughtfully twiddled strands of soft un-gelled hair into small peaks. Being here in this position, holding his sire in his arms, took him back to last year. Before Angelus, before Cordy and visions and the sharing of souls, and before everything went so horribly wrong. Perhaps it was sign that finally life would start to get better.
Angel was far from healed, it would take more than one night for him to get over this set back but it was a start. And maybe it could be a new beginning for both of them.
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