The new, catering sized coffee maker burbled happily on the reception desk, as chairs were rescued from various parts of the hotel and dragged into the lobby ready for what promised to be an all night meeting. It had taken thirty-six hours to get Faith released from jail, something of a record even for Wolfram and Hart, and they were expecting her at any moment. The whole gang wanted to be sure that nothing antagonised their newest member, an annoyed potentially psychotic Slayer didn’t appeal to anyone.
As it turned out psychotic was not an issue; rather it was Faith’s declaration that she would no longer slay that became the problem.
“Are any of you listening here? I said, I won’t do it. I won’t kill another innocent, and being as how dusting Angelus means Angel dies, it’s not going to happen.” The Slayer’s face was as adamant as her declaration and the group erupted around her in loud protests.
From his seat away from the rest of the group Spike watched silently. This possibility hadn’t occurred to him, it should have been a quick in and out; the whole gang loads up with weapons, invades the black hats’ lair, takes out Angelus and rescues the damsels in distress, then home in time for tea, figuratively speaking. Now this, a fucking Slayer that won’t fucking slay and whose head was all this going to fall on, he knew exactly.
“So don’t kill him.” His words dropped into the maelstrom like a drop of oil, and moments later you could have heard a pin drop in the lobby as they were absorbed and digested. Wesley met his eyes and an unspoken acknowledgement of his decision passed between them.
Gunn was up and in Spike’s face poking him in the chest as he spoke. “What the hell do you mean, man? That vamp is getting dusted and if the damn Slayer won’t do it, I will.”
Spike grabbed the human round the throat, not hard enough to crush his windpipe but sufficient to make his point, and shifted into game face. “You’ll have to come through me first.”
“That can be arranged.” Gunn’s voice was hoarse as he forced the words out past the grip on his throat, but he released a stake from his jacket and held it, pressed firmly against Spike’s chest.
A stern English voice and hands on the combatants’ arms were the only things that stopped the situation deteriorating still further. “Let us at least listen to what he has to say, Charles. Of all of us, he is the one who is most within his rights to kill Angelus this time.”
Despite the intercession, the two held each other’s gaze, neither willing to be the first to back down from the Mexican stand-off, the fangs and crushing grip neatly matched by the stake.
“Hey, fellas, back off unless you both want your asses kicked.” Faith’s hands closed round their respective wrists squeezing uncompromisingly until the pair had no choice but to capitulate. Gunn dropped the stake with a controlled flinch, and Spike released his hold on the man’s throat immediately after, rubbing his wrist when Faith let go.
“Finished? Both happy you’ve got the biggest wrinkles?” When both vampire and human refused to meet her eyes and continued to glare at each other, the Slayer pushed them apart and stood between them.
“Goddamn. There is so much testosterone in here I think I’m gonna puke. You, wannabe,” She grabbed the front of Gunn’s jacket and dragged him easily towards her. “Go and sit down before I throw you down.”
Impressed by her casual display of strength, Gunn shot backwards towards Fred and sat in his seat, watching as Faith turned her attentions on the vampire. Words were unnecessary as the Slayer stared at Spike until he too sat down. Only then did she deign to speak.
“You, talk and make it quick. I need to know what our options are.”
“Fine. You want it fast? Don’t kill him. Give him his soul back. That’s it.”
The group erupted again until Faith bellowed over the noise, finally losing her temper, and allowing the girl Wesley was far more familiar with to emerge. “Will you lot shut the fuck up? And you!”
Faith threw herself at the vampire and straddled his lap. From where he was across the room, Wesley could see as her hand snaked between her legs, and Spike suddenly went very still as she lent forward to whisper in his ear. With a nervous swallow he nodded and the Slayer released him, standing slowly and deliberately, patting him on the cheek before she walked away.
The assembly sat in intimidated silence and watched her until she sat down, then turned their collective attention back to the vampire, who cleared his throat and shot a quick look at Wesley before speaking again.
“I had a dream and Cordelia told me some stuff. If we catch Angelus and bring him here, she thinks she can give him his soul back.”
Fred jumped in before anyone else could speak. “She does? Oh, that would be just wonderful. And then Faith wouldn’t have to kill him, and Angel would be home, and Connor would have his father back, and everyone would be happy.”
By sheer coincidence, Wesley happened to be staring at Connor and Justine when Spike and Fred spoke, and so witnessed their shocked expressions and the concerned look they exchanged. It raised questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to explore immediately, but he filed the information away, ready to confront the pair when the opportunity presented itself. Firstly, however, he wanted everyone to be clear on just what Spike was suggesting.
“That wasn’t everything, was it?”
The glare he got from the vampire spoke volumes, but he wasn’t about to let this slide past without a total disclosure about the full cost to one of their group. “Tell them, Spike, exactly what you told me.”
When the tale was done there was more discussion, most of which centred on the logistics of capturing Angelus, only Faith and Wesley seemed at all concerned at the possible impact their plan would have on the donator of the soul. Leaving the others to talk tactics, the three withdrew to the office under the pretence of contacting Buffy to keep her up to speed with proceedings. While Wesley phoned, Faith leaned against the desk and spoke quietly to the vampire who was sat, his elbows on the desk, with his head in his hands.
“You okay with this?” She was shocked when he looked up. It had been a long time since she’d seen an expression like the one on Spike’s face. In fact it was about two and a half years ago, when she had seen herself in the mirror before giving herself up to the police.
“Don’t have much choice, do I? You won’t kill Angelus ‘cos it means killing Angel, everyone else wants Angel back and, bottom line is there’s still the chip to stop me hurting anyone. So I give up the soul and everything’s peachy.”
“Except you.” Faith wasn’t fooled by the dry laugh that followed her comment or the vampire’s careless words.
“Nah, soul’s so new I’ve still got the chafe marks. And if redemption goes out of the window, I never was cut out to be a white hat anyway.”
Wesley slammed the phone down after hearing his remark, luckily he had already finished his conversation. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Don’t put yourself down Spike. They,” he indicated the others still talking in the lobby, “just want Angel back and hang the consequences to anyone else.”
He was beyond angry. Granted Spike was new to their group and hadn’t exactly been a restful addition but still, the callous way in which the vampire’s upcoming sacrifice was greeted when compared to the joy at the possible return of Angel filled him with horror. He wondered what their reaction would have been if Cordelia had offered to chip Angelus instead, he would lay money they wouldn’t consider that a fair exchange.
“Come on, mate. No bad feelings. It’s gotta be done so let’s work out how to do it.” Spike turned to more important things than his own pain and talked his way through the difficulties of containing Angelus while Cordelia did the exchange.
“The main problem’s going to be catching him and getting Red and Nibblet out from under his nose. Any ideas?” He looked askance at Faith, who shook her head. Strategy was never her strong suit; she preferred the doing to the thinking.
“I have some ideas if we could get close enough to him. Some spells which may incapacitate a vampire if spoken within their hearing.” Wesley started looking at the shelves before remembering that all his texts were at home, banished from Angel’s presence just like himself.
Spike shook his head. “No good. Put me out of action just as quickly as Angelus. Anything else?”
“How close can you get?”
The vampire looked shifty and Wesley was reminded of the conversation that had never taken place on Monday evening.
“ I can get close, very close, but it would be risky and you’re going to have to give me a good reason to do it.”
“Touching distance?” The seeds of an idea were starting to form in Wesley’s mind, but the book he needed was back at the apartment.
“Yeah.”
He grabbed a notepad and jotted down several book titles then fished for his keys and handed them over. “Take my car and get these from the apartment.” As the vampire disappeared out of the door Wesley turned to Faith. “We need to talk, urgently. I think we may have a serious problem with Connor and Justine.”
*~*~*~*~*~
Spike returned to chaos and confrontation, and rather than getting involved with the humans shouting in the lobby, he headed for the office, the books under his arm. Once there he started going through the drawers of the filing cabinet looking for Angel’s stash of decent alcohol, which he quickly found buried under some papers in the bottom drawer. Not bothering to locate a glass, he broke the seal on the Irish whisky and took a deep swig, then chuckled quietly to himself at the irony of the situation. He had used alcohol to dull the pain of losing the ability to hunt and kill for so long, now he was using it because his soul made him feel guilty about the self same thing, he was still drinking to forget it was only the details that had changed.
The total opposite to what had happened when he gained the soul, he supposed. In that case the details had stayed eerily the same, he was still a vampire with the urge to feed from warm human bodies, could still tell exactly how many people were in the lobby from the sounds of their beating hearts. He was still Spike, with a short temper, a smart mouth, and an unerring ability to antagonise everyone, just as Angel was still Angelus, as witnessed by the whisky hidden in the drawer. One of his favourite games as a fledgling had been tracking down and nicking Angelus’ best booze.
It was the big picture that had undergone such a metamorphosis, now he empathised with the pain humans felt, cared about their lives in a way that was completely beyond him before. He’d protected the Scoobies, but in all honesty it was only because of Buffy, not because he’d given one jot about any of the rest of them, except maybe Dawn, because she was Buffy’s little sister and because he’d promised. Had he loved the Slayer before? It had been intense, that much was certain, and there was such a fine line between love and hate, it was sometimes difficult to tell them apart.
And vampires were drawn to Slayers; like the Hellmouth there was something about both that spoke to demons on a level that was pure instinct and incredibly difficult to deny. He had wanted to kill Buffy so badly, wanted his hat trick of Slayers; it had been an icy flame inside him, burning and all consuming. So when he could no longer kill her was it any wonder that the feeling had become love instead? Obsessive, demon love, but passionate and genuine all the same.
The bottle was one third empty and Spike gave it a speculative swoosh around, wondering how much more it would take before he could face the others. At least with the soul gone he would stop feeling so bad about the lives he’d taken, but that was cold comfort in the face of what he would loose. He would be back in the no man’s land that he had inhabited for the last few years, marking time in eternity waiting for something to change. Maybe he should get Wesley to promise to stake him after it was done, eternity was a joyless prospect without the ability to follow your instincts.
A body slamming through the door rudely interrupted his foray into maudlin drunkenness and Spike looked up to see Gunn, a taser in his hand looming above Connor who was supine on the floor of the office.
“What the fuck?”
Gunn was shaking with rage as he answered, “It was him. All this time we were searching for Angel and it was him.” He pointed at the boy on the floor. “That little shit put Angel in the box and dumped him in the sea because he thought he killed Holtz.”
Before the vampire hunter could shock Connor again, Spike put out a restraining hand. “I reckon he did us a favour then, mate.”
“What?” Gunn’s face was a picture of confusion, as were those of the other humans around the door.
“The way I see it, Angel lost his soul just after he went in the box, so Connor saved you lot from a summer of fun with Angelus. He may not have had good reasons for what he did, but he did you a favour all the same.”
As he finished speaking, Spike offered a hand to the boy who was coming round on the floor and hauled him to his feet.
Before anyone could start in on him again, Wesley interjected from the doorway. “He’s right. Whatever Connor and Justine’s motivations for incarcerating Angel if Angelus had got out without being so restrained and without us having some warning, we would all be dead.”
Then he turned to Connor, a stern look on his face and wagged his finger. “Having said that, young man, there was no excuse for what you did to your father, and I will expect you to apologise properly when he gets home.”
The last comment from Wesley, on top of the whisky was too much. Spike started chuckling at the sheer ridiculousness of a Watcher telling a vampire’s child to apologise when his demonic father got home. It was like a scene from the worst type of soap opera and he’d seen a few bad ones in his time. The humans stared at him, speechless for a few moments before joining in, as they all saw the funnier side of their situation.
As their mirth started to die away, Spike nudged Connor in the ribs and in a stage whisper that could easily be heard by those around them said, “Nice idea with the box. Where were you when I wanted the Gem of Amara? I could have done with a good idea like that.”
*~*~*~*~*~*
Some hours later, after most of the group had crawled off to their rooms’ to grab some much needed sleep, Wesley was poring over his books making notes on possible spells, and trying to ignore the vampire dozing uneasily on the couch. Like other times he had watched when Spike slept, the fact that he was dreaming was evident in the way he thrashed and mumbled almost continuously. If things followed their typical pattern the vampire would wake soon, and either hide his weakness with a display of petulant temper or cry uncontrollably for several hours. It was hard to say which was worse.
But when things took a different turn, the pen dropped from Wesley’s hand and all pretence at working vanished. The foetal position the vampire tended to sleep in had gone and he was sprawled on his back, spinelessly relaxed, his movements no longer restless twitching but a slow undulation that seemed to centre around his groin. An area which, Wesley suddenly realised, was no longer covered by denim but instead by a hand that was stroking rhythmically. Momentarily embarrassed by this turn of events, Wesley was about to wake Spike up until he heard the name the vampire was chanting under his breath. It was enough to stop him in his tracks.
As a Watcher he had been taught about the relationships between vampires, but had never broached the subject with Angel, feeling it was far too intimate to discuss, but he had always been curious. It appeared the Council was right in its speculations because the name Spike was repeating in the midst of an obviously erotic dream was Angelus’. Unable to drag his gaze away, Wesley found himself completely hypnotised as much by the implications of what he was seeing, as he was by the intensity of the scene in front of him. His mind was filled with images of the two vampires locked in an amorous embrace, and he found the idea both frightening and terribly arousing.
Moving as quietly as possible he stood and crept out of the office in search of coffee, and something to distract him from his imagination. As the door clicked quietly shut, Spike opened his eyes and smiled, hoping he had made his point to the Watcher without having to get into the realms of awkward and revealing discussions.
About half an hour later, he wandered out and found Wesley perched next to the reception desk, sipping from a mug and obviously miles away. In a moment of mischief he slipped into game face, sidled up behind the oblivious human and grabbed him round the waist.
“Boo!”
Wesley’s heart lurched in his chest at the cold arms and intimate embrace, rather too close to what he’d been thinking about to be completely comfortable and shot round, only to be confronted by a smug, fang filled grin.
“Bloody hell, Spike. Don’t do that, I nearly had a heart attack.” He was released, pulse still pounding in his ears, and rubbed his arms trying to get the hairs to lie flat again.
“No, you didn’t.” The ridges and fangs had melted away to be replaced by blue eyes and a cheerful smirk as the vampire went in search of a meal in the small fridge. “Your heart would have made a completely different sound. Like, spastic drum solo, followed by silence.”
When Wesley didn’t respond to his light-hearted quip, Spike shot him an apologetic look as he took his mug of blood out of the microwave. “Sorry about that. I didn’t really mean to scare you, just make you jump.”
His apology was waved away. “It’s not that, you didn’t scare me. I was just thinking about how we get to Angelus.” And about you and Angelus, but Wesley was not about to mention where his thoughts had really been dwelling. Spike nodded for Wesley to continue and sat down opposite him.
“You can’t work magics, can you?”
“No. That was Dru’s bag not mine. I don’t like it.”
“That’s going to make it more difficult. I was hoping to find a simple spell but…that leaves us with potions and they are much harder to administer.”
“You make it up; I’ll make sure he takes the medicine. What are we going to go for? Something that will knock him out or what?”
“I thought about that, but then it occurred to me that any unusual behaviour on his part may alert his minions and put Willow and Dawn in danger. What we really need is something that will distract him for long enough so that the rest of us can get in and steal them out from under his nose. Then we can return and dispose of the minions and capture Angelus, probably a task most easily completed with the traditional manacles and chains.”
With a cynical laugh at the human’s expense, Spike extemporised. “So you want to distract a Master vampire long enough to sneak into his lair, steal his prisoners, and dust his minions. You’re asking a lot, Wesley. I’m good but not that good. I might need a bit of help.”
Wesley flushed and looked into his coffee, the implicit suggestion in the vampire’s comment not lost on him. Spike grunted in satisfaction as he gulped down his blood, at least they seemed to be reading from the same page now, there was only one thing that would keep Angelus distracted for long and it was going to be up to him to provide it.
“I-I was thinking of something that may confuse him. There is one potion…” Wesley’s voice trailed off as he stared, open mouthed at the main door. There, standing hunched up on the stairs with her arms wrapped around her, was Cordelia, the one Spike remembered from his dream, all blonde bobbed hair and sexy voluptuous curves.
“Umm…Hi, guys.” Cordelia shrugged apologetically, and then squealed as she was caught up and swept off her feet in a tight embrace. “Wes, Wes, put me down! Breakable person here.”
Wesley gave her one last swing before placing her carefully on her feet, and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Cordelia, it’s so good to have you back.”
“Restrained, much.” She patted fussily at her hair and frowned petulantly, but her eyes glowed with pleasure at the greeting and she stood on her toes to return his kiss. “It’s good to be back, Wes. Where is everyone?”
She looked around the empty lobby; there was no one to be seen.
“Spike’s…” Wesley stopped. “Well, he was here a moment ago. The others are all asleep; it was a busy night.”
“Tell me about it. One minute on a higher plane doing the Powers one favour after another then, pop, out on my ear in downtown LA and not the nice part of town, either. It was lucky I remembered the account details for the cab firm we use or I would be vamp dinner by now.”
As she talked, Cordelia grabbed the last clean mug and helped herself to the pitchy liquid that was lurking in the bottom of the coffee maker. Adding neither milk nor sugar she swigged it back and swallowed with a grimace. “God, I missed coffee. Are there any doughnuts?”
“A higher plane? Cordelia, where have you been?”
“It’s a long story and believe me when I say you don’t want the details, it wasn’t that interesting. The shortened version though? The Powers decided it was time I moved up dimensions, so I did. They didn’t like how I did things, so I’m back. Picky employers, worse than you, if that’s possible.”
She sank onto the stool Spike had been sitting on minutes before, and looked over at Wesley who was still stood somewhat shell-shocked in the entrance. “What? I’m not allowed to come back? Don’t tell me you took on someone else.”
Never one to beat around the bush when it came to business, Wesley jumped into the monologue before she could start again. “No, no. It’s just…Will you still be able to swap the soul over now you’re back?”
Cordelia stared at him. “Is that all you have to say. No, ‘Oh that must have been awful Cordy’ or ‘How have we managed without you, Cordelia’.”
She sighed at her ex-boss’s distressed expression. “Yes, I can. It’s not so hard, and so long as we do it in the next few days there shouldn’t be any problems.”
Wesley sank into the nearest seat and ran his hands through his hair. He wasn’t sure how to take the news, he still couldn’t decide whether the plan they had come up with was workable…The plan. Damn. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Spike about the potion. Now the vampire had vanished and how did they do that? Angel did it too, sometimes, moved without making a sound. It was most annoying when you wanted to speak to them.
“Hey, earth to Wesley. Anyone home?”
“Huh?” He looked up to see Cordelia’s concerned expression and realised he probably looked an absolute fright. There had been no time to go home to shave and change in the last day or so, and he rubbed a hand across his stubbly chin somewhat ruefully. He had been cultivating the unshaven, rough look since the injury to his throat had prevented him shaving for a while, but there was such a thing as too long.
*~*~*~*~*
Wesley awoke with the uncomfortable feeling he was being watched. He cracked open his eyes and could just make out a dark figure sat on the end of the bed in the gloom of the unlit room, but it was the eyes that drew his attention; golden, glowing and demonic.
“S-Spike?” The glow disappeared for a moment, as if their lids had shuttered closed, then reappeared. There was absolute silence in the room, and the dull roar of the street from outside was drowned out by his own breathing which sounded grotesquely loud in his ears. Fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand, Wesley nearly yelped when the vampire moved up the bed with preternatural speed and grabbed his arm, capturing it in a bone-crushing grip. Refusing to succumb to the panic he could feel rising in his throat, he tried to sit up, then froze when he felt a snuffling on his neck across the scar followed by a wet tongue, and just the barest hint of fangs.
“You smell good, Wes. Sweet with fear.” Low, husky tones were breathed chillingly against his skin and the cool wetness was back, laving his neck roughly and repetitively, bringing the blood to the surface. Wesley’s breath hitched. He didn’t know whether to be terrified or angry, but wasn’t this exactly what he deserved for inviting a vampire into his home.
A fang was gently dragged down the line of his neck and Wesley could feel a scream welling up in his chest. Then the voice was back, just as quiet. “Do you want me to finish what she started? It would be so easy, just a little pain and then nothing… forever. Is that what you want Wes? Or is it this?”
His hand was taken and pressed into the vampire’s groin, and when he felt the hardness there he briefly wondered if it was his fear that was so arousing or the fact that it was him. He risked a swallow and released his breath slowly, if Spike were doing this then he had no plans to kill him immediately.
Unable to remove his hand, he settled for holding his fingers as far away from the denim as he could manage. “What is this, Spike? Is this how you repay my welcome, assaulting me in my own bed?”
“Na-ha. Not assaulting you, Watcher. I smelled you earlier, in the office, could smell what you wanted. Got you going, didn’t it. The thought of me and him, together.” The fangs were gone and Wesley could feel soft lips against his neck, but the hands holding him were still cool and inhumanly strong.
“I won’t deny it, I can’t. But this is not what I want.” He was released so suddenly he fell back on to the bed. What remained of his breath was expelled with a whoosh. He sucked air in again, hearing how ragged it sounded, and wondered whether the vampire could tell how relieved he was now that their close contact had ceased. He reached over for the lamp and flipped the switch; the yellow light flooding the room showing it to be empty.
For a brief moment, he wondered if it had been some sort of surreal dream until he heard the sound of breaking furniture in the living room. Wesley shot out of the bed, stopping only to grab his robe, and ran out of the bedroom, flicking the main lights on as he went. The coffee table was overturned in the middle of the room, the books he had been reading earlier strewn across the floor, and Spike was sat against the wall the broken leg of the table held against his chest. It wasn’t a good stake but with vampiric strength behind it, it would suffice.
When he entered, Spike looked up at him an unfathomable look on his face before returning to stare at the improvised weapon. “I tried to do this once before, you know. When they first put the chip in me. I hated that I couldn’t hunt, couldn’t kill, and I just wanted it to end. Then I found something, I discovered I could kill other demons, still couldn’t feed of course, but at least I could kill. And I did. Good demons or bad ones, I didn’t care. I adjusted, made the best of what I got handed, ‘cos that’s what I do.”
The desperate note in the vampire’s voice kept Wesley pinned in the doorway, unable to move closer or back away; all he could do was stand, and listen, and pray that an opportunity would present itself. Spike was a mess, his clothes and hair covered in what looked like mud but stank of the sewers, and why hadn’t he smelled that before? There were fresh wounds on his arms, no sign of his jacket and one eye looked bruised. As Wesley studied him Spike continued, his voice almost monotone.
“And I got my kicks making the Slayer’s life hell, until I fell in love with her. Then she was gone, dead, but it was too late. I’d promised her, so I was stuck looking after them all.” He shook his head caught up in his confession and determined to finish.
“Then they brought her back. Just like that. I walked into her house and there she was, alive. But she was hurting, Wes. Hurting so bad and she smelled so good, all that pain and suffering. The others couldn’t see it, but I could. Could see what she needed, see that she wanted to be hurt, to be forced to feel again. So I did. Hurt her, used her, and in return she used me.” Spike laughed a mocking grating sound after those quiet words.
“Shit. I don’t know who fucked whom up worst. Bloody mess it was, but it was better than nothing…then. At least I got to touch her body anyway. Not her soul of course. She could never love me, respect me, the evil soulless monster that I was, could never touch that part of her. And the irony of the whole bloody thing? Cordelia was right. I never bit her, wouldn’t have done, ‘cos it wasn’t my demon panting after her, never was. I learned, see, with the chip. Learned to control it.”
He stopped speaking and simply stared at his chest where the jagged point pressed against his shirt. Wesley took a step forward. “Spike…?”
“I did a stupid thing tonight, Wes.” As he drew closer, Wesley could see the clean tracks on the vampire’s face where his tears had cleared a path in the filth.
“What did you do that’s worth killing yourself over?”
Spike looked up and Wesley noticed his eyes were haunted. “I killed a man. Is that bad enough?”
Wesley sank onto a chair, the small hairs on his neck standing to attention at the vampire’s words. Was it bad enough? It would depend on why.
“Why? Why did you kill him?”
“’Cos he reminded me of me. He wouldn’t let her go, and she was screaming, and he wouldn’t stop. So I hit him, pulled him away from her and hit him, and I couldn’t stop. All I could see was what Cordelia showed me. The bathroom. Me…and Buffy. And I felt like I was hitting myself, punishing myself for what I tried to do to her.”
“He was attacking a woman? And you stopped him…”
His words went unheard. “There was so much blood. When I finally heard her and stopped, there was so much blood, all over his face and my hands and my jacket. I ran but you can never run fast enough to get away from what you really are, can you.”
The stake dropped to the floor and he grabbed it before Spike could change his mind. “Are you sure he was dead?”
The vampire’s arms were covering his head, but Wesley saw the almost imperceptible shake when his question was answered. “I don’t know, not sure. I think so. I hit him bloody hard.”
“Were you near the hotel?” There was a slight nod and armed with that information, Wesley risked leaving Spike alone long enough to use the phone. A fraught half an hour later, he returned with news and fresh coffee, finding the vampire exactly where he’d left him. “You didn’t kill him, but he is in intensive care, with severe head trauma. They won’t tell me anything else.”
The mug he held out was ignored so Wesley put it down on the floor, close enough that it could be seen. There was silence for a few moments then Spike started talking again.
“I don’t know what scares me most. Keeping the soul or losing it. What if the chip doesn’t work? Will I go back to how I was before, ‘cos I’m not sure I can. I’ve changed, woken up, and started smelling the flowers. And if it doesn’t work, swapping the soul over, is it always gonna be like this? Hurt this much? ‘Cos I’m not sure I can live with that neither. And if the chip works, then what? Still not a monster and still not a man, just back to where I was, trapped in-between.”
“Would you like me to do it?”
“What?” The vampire’s head shot up and he stared incredulously at the human.
“Stake you.” What little sympathy Wesley had left was rapidly dissipating, and the fear he had felt earlier when he was attacked in his bed was mutating into cold anger that was reflected in his voice.
“If you are dead then your thrice damned Sire has his soul back by default, and you bloody well terrified me in there,” he indicated the bedroom, “So I’ll stake you if you want me to, with a great deal of pleasure.”
He stood over Spike and glared down at him waiting for a decision. The vampire stared back at him, his expression changing so slowly Wesley was tempted to kick him just to speed it up. Eventually, it settled on shifty embarrassment.
“Um…No, I’m ok now, thanks.”
“Well, I’m glad you bloody are. I’m getting dressed.” He stomped back into the bedroom, cursing the luck that filled his life with soul-ed vampires that spent half their lives brooding and the other half trying to kill him.
As he went through the door, Spike called brightly after him. “About earlier, Wes. I’m sorry. I was just feeling a bit fucked up.”
Wesley gave an exasperated snort and kept walking.
*~*~*~*~*~*
“This is going to be entirely your fault, Willow.” She turned her face away from the leather thongs stroking gently down her cheek. “It doesn’t have to happen. Do what I want, and then Dawn will be safe.”
“I-I don’t believe you.” For the first time in what seemed like days the gag had been removed, and she knew why. He wanted her to be able to spell cast and if she didn’t do it voluntarily, Angelus would force her hand by torturing Dawn. Could she live with that on her conscience? Was a sin of omission as great as a sin of commission, the coven didn’t tell her the answer to that one, only said she shouldn’t use her magic, that it could set off a chain reaction that even they would not be able to drag her back from.
So which was worse, watching her friend being tortured or risking her own soul? Buffy had sacrificed herself for Dawn, jumped into the abyss rather than see her sister dead and was prepared to unleash hell on earth. Willow wondered if she could die simply by willing it to be so, but even that would draw on her power.
“Bring the girl.” At Angelus’ command she let out a small whimper, her heart and mind torn in two by the decision she was being called on to make.
Frantic screams entered the room moments before Dawn appeared, struggling wildly in a minion’s grasp. When she saw Angelus she stopped, her face suddenly full of unquestioning hope, and Willow wanted to weep at the naivety of the little girl who had been spared the worst of this vampire’s atrocities. During his last incarnation the whole gang had fought to protect her from the details, or so she remembered. Of course none of that was real, just memories placed in her mind by the monks who had made the key human. As she met Dawn’s eyes across the room, Willow saw the hope in them fade as the missing pieces of their imprisonment fell into place, and the girl finally realised who their captor’s true identity.
“You…BASTARD.” Dawn’s struggles became frantic once again, but she was trying to get to Angelus and not away from him. Her anger obviously amused the vampire and he slunk towards her, smirking, his entire demeanour purring enjoyment at her impotent rage.
With a glance from his master, the minion released his hold and Dawn stumbled forward into Angelus’ arms where she started to beat at his chest with her fists, screaming incoherently. He let her; laughing at her feeble attempts to hurt him until, suddenly bored, he grabbed her wrists and drew her into a tighter embrace, burying his face in her hair and nibbling at her neck.
There was no doubt that the warm body pressed tightly against his own was much changed from the last time he had been this close, and Angelus revelled in the smell and feel of incipient womanhood it exuded. As fear started to outweigh anger in the girl’s scent he ran his fingers up and down her spine, purring again as she arched towards him despite her terror and revulsion.
Ah yes, later he would have to play with this one. Once he had dealt with the Slayer and broken the Witch, then he would have some fun, and take his time about it as well. They were always amusing when they were so young, their bodies quickly learning the lessons he taught them about pleasure and pain. Before releasing her back into the arms of his minion, Angelus palmed her breast and felt to his satisfaction her nipple hard and aroused against the chill of his hand. Oh yes, later.
*~*~*~*~*~*
“Did you get it all?”
Wesley studiously ignored the vampire, as Spike greeted Fred upon her return to the hotel. After his unpleasant experience the previous night he’d called Giles on the off chance he could shed light on the mood swings Spike seemed to be having. After sympathising most disingenuously, Giles stopped laughing and assured Wesley that the vampire was probably not dangerous just confused. He also pointed out that the situation with Angelus doubtless wasn’t helping either.
“They were very close at one time, you know.”
“I think I grasped that fact.” Wesley recounted what had happened in the office, omitting the part about the effect it had on him, that wasn’t something he wanted Giles to gossip about to mutual friends.
“Interesting. Not quite what I meant, but having been on fairly intimate terms with Angelus before, I should have guessed. I don’t envy you in the slightest, Wesley. It certainly sounds like you have your hands full.”
Cordelia had joined Fred and Spike, and the three went into an exclusive huddle before disappearing up the stairs. It was quite worrying seeing how Spike interacted with the women. They always greeted him with distrust, but within minutes he had managed to put them at their ease and had them giggling like schoolgirls. Excepting Justine, who didn’t trust anyone, only Faith seemed immune to his dubious charms and Wesley had a sneaking suspicion that it was the accent reminding her of him, rather than species, that put the Slayer on edge.
He returned to his books and the pile of ingredients stacked next to them. It had taken him half the day to acquire everything he needed, and he still wasn’t certain exactly how much of the potion Angelus would have to consume to have the desired effect. Nor was he convinced that Spike would be able to get him to drink it, despite his protestations to the contrary. But he had to get started, it was going to take twenty-four hours to concoct, and he needed to be sure that the antidote was ready as well. With a sigh he picked everything up and retired to the huge industrial kitchen in the basement.
Faith followed her old Watcher’s progress as he left the lobby and headed for the back stairs before returning to her task. She, Justine, Connor and Gunn were cleaning and prepping weapons ready for the attack they had planned for the next night. The vampire had cried off helping, saying he had other things he needed to do and his absence was something of a relief to the small group. Between the four of them there were probably enough bad experiences with the un-dead to last a hundred human lifetimes and, even if it had a soul, it was difficult to relax when one of them was present.
As she looked around at the cleaning crew, Faith was surprised at how much she was enjoying herself, her time in prison had been incredibly difficult, not being able to tell anyone about her true nature and having to conceal her unnatural strength and speed. At least here everybody knew exactly who and what she was, and apart from Wesley, seemed quite prepared to give her another chance. She helped herself to a clean rag and a double headed axe and set to polishing, the repetitive movement as soothing as the silence, and seriously considered whether this place could actually offer her the sanctuary she craved.
An hour or so later their work was rudely interrupted.
“Holy shit.” Gunn’s quiet expletive drew everyone’s attention and they followed his gaze, which was firmly fixed on an unfamiliar figure lurking on the stairs.
“Well, what do you think?” Cordelia called from the landing and started down, gesturing for the, now reluctant, vampire to follow her. It had seemed like a really good idea when he’d first thought of it, when Wesley had described the effects of the potion he had to get Angelus to drink. Now he wasn’t so sure. Even unable to see his reflection to confirm it, he knew from the awkward familiarity of the clothes and the way the girls had fussed over him that the transformation had worked. But the real test wouldn’t come until he walked into his Sire’s presence for the first time.
“Hey, nice look, Spike. Love the outfit.” Faith laughed uproariously at the vampire’s obvious discomfort. Next to her Gunn was still speechless, but Justine took the opportunity to make a typically cutting remark.
“A vampire is still a vampire, even if you change it’s clothes…or give it a soul.”
“But in this case I think the change is significant.”
Wesley’s return had gone unnoticed by the others, and he stood staring up at Spike from the bottom of the stairs a curious look on his face. It was something like looking into a time warp. Watchers collect things obsessively and sometime towards the end of the nineteenth century, one had found a portrait left behind in a lair when Angelus’ family had moved on. He’d only seen a grainy reproduction but it was enough for him to recognise and name the creature standing before him. The darker, un-gelled hair fell into natural curls and the loose woollen clothes, although modern, spoke of a much earlier era.
“I believe we are having the pleasure of meeting a much earlier incarnation of this particular vampire.” He held out his hand, oddly wanting to adopt manners more befitting of the guise Spike had assumed. “William the Bloody, I presume.”
“No, Doctor, fucking, Livingstone. Who do you think?” The vampire grabbed the offered hand and yanked Wesley towards him until he could whisper into the Watcher’s ear. “I wouldn’t go around offering yer hand if I was you. I didn’t have a reputation for gentleness.”
There was a squeal from the top of the stairs and Spike rolled his eyes as Fred excitedly joined them. “Wait, wait. He’s not ready. You’ve got to see him in these; he looks so sweet.”
Held in her hand were a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles, which Spike grabbed and stuffed in his pocket, growling at her. “I am not sweet. And I’m not wearing those here. I look enough of a sodding pansy as it is.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“What’s in it?” Spike took a tentative sniff, and instantly flinched back from the foul smelling concoction. “It stinks. He’ll never drink that.”
“In that one?” Wesley consulted his notes. “Rue, St. John’s Wort, and Vervain, amongst other things, and Angelus won’t have to drink that, it’s the antidote, for you.” He picked up another container and handed it over. “This is the potion. Much more pleasant, I’m sure you’ll agree.”
The vampire twisted the lid off the glass bottle and sniffed, keeping his distance, then frowned and sniffed again, closer this time. “It’s sweet, strong…caraway, yes? But there’s something else. I like it, it’s…”
Wesley took the bottle out of his hand and replaced the lid. “Addictive. The main ingredients are caraway, ginseng, and frankincense, with just a touch of juniper and basil, plus a special something from that herbalist in Chinatown.”
He looked at the amber coloured liquid dispiritedly. “It’s very powerful and I have no idea how much of it Angelus will need to take. It’s not really designed for vampires, but I was rapidly running out of time and choices.”
“Will it work at all?” Spike was not happy with the idea of being stuck with his Sire when the others invaded the lair, unless the bastard was at least halfway out of it. Angelus was no genius, but it wouldn’t take much in the way of brains to work out exactly who was making a patsy of him.
Putting the bottle back on the table, Wesley flicked through another book. “All I have is one reference. It says that a vampire took the stuff accidentally and was raving incoherently when it walked out of the herbalist’s house.”
“Then what happened? Does it say how long the effects take to wear off?” Spike was trying to read over his shoulder, so Wesley put his hand over the relevant passage.
“Hang on a minute. What did that say?!” The vampire snatched the book out from under his hands and scanned the page. “Bloody hell!”
“There’s no way to tell if that will happen to you and we have the antidote…”
“It says here that it burned up. Walked out of the house into the fucking sun and burned up.” He put the book slowly back on the table, and turned a fixed stare on the ex-Watcher. “I know you don’t like us very much, pet, but don’t you think this is a little extreme.”
Wesley gave him a wan smile and tried to be reassuring. “No one will let you walk into the sun, anyway the assault going to happen at night. And we do have the antidote, which we will administer as soon as the girls are free and Angelus is restrained.”
“About that.” Spike’s fingers trailed over the book, and his eyes followed their progress as he worked through how to ask Wesley for a favour. He jumped when Wesley’s hand rested gently on top of his.
“I’ll make sure it’s me, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not embarrassed or anything, it’s just that…God, this is difficult. It’s been a long time, a really long time and I’m not exactly a fledge anymore. If word got out, it might give the wrong impression.”
He sank into the chair and put his head in his hands. “Who am I kidding? Invite the whole sodding lot in. It’s not like my reputation can get any more pathetic. It hit rock bottom about two years ago. Clem’s the only demon that’ll speak to me anymore.”
Wesley sat down next to him and put a comforting hand on his back. “I spoke to Giles this morning, and he seems to think that the chip will still work after the soul has been extracted.”
The vampire’s shoulders shook under his touch, and Wesley could see that they were heading for another round of angst and depression. He was really starting to look forward to the time when Spike no longer had his soul; maybe he’d be easier to get along with.
“It’ll be too late.”
“What?” Wesley had hardly heard what Spike said but it seemed important so he listened.
“I said ‘it will be too late’. I won’t have a soul anymore and who could love an evil soulless thing.” The words were muffled and, rather exasperatedly, Wesley decided that this time they were going to talk on his terms.
“Sit up. I can’t hear you. For god’s sake, Spike, you’re over a hundred and twenty, grow up.”
“Hey. That’s not fair. You’re supposed to listen and be sympathetic.” At least he’d sat up.
“I think my sympathy dried up last night when you tried to…bite me.”
“Yeah. I am sorry, you know. I’m not sure what I thought I was doing.”
“That makes two of us. Now what were you talking about? Who won’t love you? Buffy?”
Spike stared at him then laughed. “The Slayer, hell no. That was one totally screwed up idea. No, not Buffy.”
“Then who?” The eye contact was gone again and the vampire was looking at his boots in silence. “Spike?”
In a sudden movement, which nearly pitched Wesley off his chair, Spike was standing up and pacing. “Him, okay. Angel. I had this really stupid idea that if I got a soul and came here then maybe, just possibly…” His arms had been waving around as he spoke, then he stopped and wrapped them around his waist, suddenly looking very young and vulnerable.
“Even after everything I did to him. I just hoped he would be able to forgive me, that he might take me in and love me. I don’t want to be alone, Wes. Eternity’s too long to be alone, and no other vampire will have me when I can’t kill. He was my last chance.”
Wesley was shocked into speechlessness and he sat in silence while his mind processed the information. He’d had the impression that Spike had been reluctant to come to LA, but that had obviously been a façade. That the vampire wanted to stay with his Sire had never occurred to him, though it made sense on many levels, they were both alone, alienated from their own kind and they had a history that went back further than any human couple.
“You got the soul for him, not Buffy.” He needed to clarify this.
“That’s what I said, human.” And now they were moving on to stroppy vampire.
“But what he did to you. Gunn told me, when he found you, what Angelus had done.”
Spike was getting frustrated; humans never really understood this part. “That’s the whole point. It was Angelus, not Angel, plus it was nothing he hadn’t done before and worse. And yes, I was…am, angry with him, but more because he left me there, hung on the wall for the others to find, than anything else. It really upset Fred, you know. She kept crying when she was sewing me up.”
“He virtually skinned you.” Incredulous was not a strong enough word to describe how Wesley was feeling. His words sputtered out.
Putting his hands flat on the table and staring straight into Wesley’s eyes Spike said slowly. “He’s done worse to me in the past. At least this time he used a sharp knife.” He continued staring, waiting for his words to sink in, which they eventually did. It was like watching a light coming on.
“It was a game. An elaborate, vicious game.” There was more here, and Wesley sensed that the vampire wasn’t going to back down until he had fully understood. “My god. It was a sex game, wasn’t it? Some sort of erotic blood play.”
Spike closed his eyes and nodded. It took quite a leap of faith for a human to grasp what had happened, and Wesley had done well, he deserved more of an explanation.
“Yeah, sort of. And this information goes no further than this room. None of your Watcher buddies get to hear, all right?” He waited until he got a nod before continuing.
“It’s the sort of thing he used to do when I was very young. It was like he was testing me, seeing if the soul had made me weaker, seeing if I would break. But I didn’t and he knows that. That’s how I know he will let me get close to him again. That’s why I’ve done this,” Spike gestured to his darkened, curly hair and soft woollen clothes, “to show him that I’ve changed, accepted him as my Sire again. I just hope Angel understands all that when he’s back.”
“You think Angel will reject you because you love Angelus.”
Spike had to sit down he was laughing so hard. “Love? Angelus? Don’t be a fucking idiot, Wesley. Not even a demon could love Angelus; he’s a complete bastard.”
“I don’t understand. I’m drowning here, Spike. Explain, please. My classes at the academy never covered any of this.”
When he’d got his laughter under control, Spike tried to help. “I don’t ‘love’ Angelus. He’s my Sire.” He rubbed a hand over his face; it was so difficult to explain to a human when there was no real equivalent. And he could really use a cigarette to help him think.
“It’s like fags, okay. You know they’re bad for you, that they might kill you, but they taste too good and your body craves them so much that you’d do anything, risk anything for just one more. That’s what it’s like.”
“But Buffy said you hit him round the head with a tire iron.”
Spike frowned at him in confusion. “Well, yeah. He was trying to steal Dru.”
“Hi, guys. What you talking about?” Fred’s slight form appeared in the doorway and Spike shot Wesley a warning look. He had meant what he said; the conversation went no further than that room.
“The potion.” “Angelus,” they said simultaneously then looked at each other. It was hopeless, Spike started to laugh again and Wesley joined in.
Fred stood in the doorway and stared at them, before flouncing out, calling back over her shoulder as she went. “Last meeting before we leave. For some reason the others want you two there.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It was the third stripe of the whip that had broken her. When it had landed with a crack across Dawn’s face, leaving a bloody track from her eye to her chin, the world had faded around her. And, with an outraged scream she had called on her powers and created the barrier to protect them both, then smashed the chains that held them to the wall.
But that had been many long hours ago and with every passing minute Willow could feel herself, and the magical field, growing weaker. The past days had been physically arduous with never a chance to recover; virtually every day Angelus had bitten and drunk from her, taking so much blood that she was light headed most of the time. She felt bone weary, so exhausted she wanted to cry, and soon she wouldn’t have enough energy left to maintain the barrier, then she would have to choose.
Finally, she understood what the coven had meant. During the eternal hours focussing her will, and drawing on her limited reserves to protect herself and Dawn, their words at last made sense. The magic she used from inside her was safe, so long as she was careful but the line she walked, would always walk and the thing that would set off that chain reaction the coven feared, was when she used power from elsewhere. That was the danger. The ability to channel the natural power of Gaia herself, to draw from the unlimited resources of the earth and direct it to her will. That was what had brought her down and made her nearly destroy the world, and that was what Angelus wanted her to do again.
Willow pinched her leg hard, hoping the pain would help to keep her awake and focussed, it made her jump and Dawn shifted in her sleep. She stroked the girl’s hair where it lay in a sheet across her lap covering her sleeping face and crooned softly in the back of her throat. It was better if Dawn slept, it saved her from the constant worry of when they would be rescued and surely Buffy should have been here by now, for Dawn if not for her. From the boasting and gloating it seemed certain that Angelus was expecting her, he had spies out actively scouring the city to stop the Slayer surprising him.
She yawned again and felt the barrier weaken a little more. If Buffy didn’t get to them rapidly, the whole question was going to become academic, in another hour her reserves would be gone. Then she would have to choose between Dawn and the magics, and Willow knew what she had to do, even if it meant endangering her soul.