Title: A Gift Of Time 2
Author: JINX Buffywatcher
Feedback: Constructive comments always
welcome: jinxascendant@hotmail.com
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Rating: Strong R to soft NC-17
Spoilers: Scattered for the last season of
Buffy, chosen in particular and scattered for Angel’s fifth season but it
diverges into AU territory pretty quickly.
Warnings: The usual goodies for Slash,
violence, swearing and all that. Additionally a canon character death is
touched on and there’s some intermittent character bashing, particularly in the
stories later in the series. *This is NOT really a Scooby friendly
story!*
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them for a bit of
harmless fun. All characters, recognisable likenesses are retained by their
owner and accredited license holders.
Writer’s Notes: This story takes place in an AU
setting. Please excuse any minor discrepancies or artist license. As always
thanks are going out to GF, Myst, Salustra, Betsy, and Preety my most excellent
group of Beta/Editors.
Writer’s Credits: Special thanks to BuffyWorld for their most excellent
transcripts which were used to blend actual episode dialogue into the story.
There has been some artistic license taken with the actual dialogue so it may
not appear *exactly* as it did in the episodes. This part of the story will
feature the songs ‘As the world falls down’ by David Bowie and excerpts from
CLIÙ NA HEARADH by Norman MacLeod.
Writer Websites: JINXI’s Archive At Shadows In A
Mirror: JINX REALM
JINXI’s LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/jinxwatcher
The
Crypt: http://home.att.net/~lubakmetyk/crypt.htm#buffywatcher
Distribution: If I’ve already been given
permission to archive my work please consider it yours if you want it. If I
haven’t and you would like to archive it please do, all I ask is that you email
me and tell me where it’s going so I can visit.
Writer’s Dedication: For Stony: Well when I was
pondering on a gift suitable for GF’s birthday it occurred to me that the only
suitable gift was something shiny and new so here you go Stony me Darlin, part
one of a two part shiny new tale. Happy Birthday *Hugs* JINXI
Summary: Months after the destruction of
Sunnydale, Spike mysteriously reappears in the offices of Wolfram & Hart
but the mystery of his resurrection is only one of the puzzles Angel must solve
before the gift of more time he’s received to make the wrong things right, runs
out and he loses the precious gift he’s only just reclaimed.
*Introspective or retrospective
comments, quotes, lyrics, or stanzas.*
Chapter Five
Wesley slams the cover of a report closed and leans back in his chair
with a weary exhalation and grimaces as he looks at the clock. It’s only
fifteen minutes to six and he promised Spike that he’d meet him in Angel’s
office by six so that they could attend the party for his friend Stony. He
pulls his glasses off and rubs his eyes tiredly just before a small sound in
the doorway draws his blurry gaze. The small petite figure can only be the
pixie-like form of Fred and he hurriedly replaces his glasses so that he can
see the sweet smile she’s beaming at him.
“Hello Wesley.” She says with the soft smile that seems to perpetually
grace her delicate features. She is a vision in a simply cut deep purple velvet
tank top and a silken gossamer skirt in shades of black, purple, and blue. The
dainty flat-soled leather sandals on her feet are died a soft tan shade only a
hue or two darker than her skin giving her the illusion of being almost
barefoot at first glance. Her gorgeous dark hair has been left to tumbles
around her like a silken cloak of curls and waves and she is without a doubt
one of the loveliest women he’s ever seen. So why does he find that he’s
disappointed that his visitor isn’t a vision of leather draped marble
perfection with moonlight pale skin and hair and blazing blue eyes?
“Hello Winifred, you are looking particularly lovely, if I may say.” He
says quietly returning her smile, the semi-formality of their greeting a long
held custom and something of a private joke between them. “What can I do for
you this evening?”
“Spike told me about the party and I thought that maybe if you didn’t
have anyone to go with either… that maybe we could go together?” Her voice is
strong and confident but the shyness that she has never really lost still
softens the quietly voiced question.
“Certainly, it would be an honour to be in your company, as lovely as
you are my dear.” Wesley says with an easy charm, honed through countless
afternoon teas and dinner parties that comprised much of his youth at his
parents’ estate.
As a senior member of the then very powerful Watchers Council, his
Father was ever obliged to entertain his fellow members and the lessons of
youth persist in the man of today. He tidies his desk and pushes back from his
desk with a grateful sigh of relief and grabs his coat as he walks towards
Fred. He glances down at his own clothing. He decides that while his simple
dark grey cotton
He glances over at Fred and notices the bright red envelope in her hand.
“A gift for the lucky birthday boy?” he asks with a smile gesturing towards the
envelope.
Fred nods and waggles the bit of linen paper. “It’s some gift
certificates. A pair for the high tea luncheon they serve at the St. Regis and
some tickets for a special event they’re holding downtown, some sort of
writers’ symposium I think. Spike said that he heard that the man they’re
having the party for was eager to go but that they were sold out. Lorne managed
to find me a pair of tickets.” She says happily, waving the envelope like a
triumphant flag.
“That sounds like a great gift. I didn’t even know that the St. Regis
had a high Tea luncheon.” Wesley laughs and shrugs. “It sounds wonderful
though, I have missed having a decent tea time while I’ve been here in the
States, as they say.” He adds whimsically. “I wonder how good it is.”
“Oh it is marvellous Wesley; Spike and Angel took me this afternoon so I
could pick up the certificates and it was so wonderful.” Fred says happily,
clutching the envelope to her stomach and almost wiggling in remembered
delight. “It was so formal and graceful and everything was so delicious. Spike
showed me how to eat a scone in proper English fashion.” She adds with a
giggle. She slides her arm through Wes’ and clings and she giggles again. “Do
you know that it was Angel that found out about the luncheon and took Spike
there the first time? He said he wanted to give Spike a taste of home, I
thought it was just so dreamy of him to do that. He’s been so kind to Spike
since he came here, I just can’t get over how much he’s changed. I actually saw
him laughing, *laughing*, this morning Wesley!”
“Yes it seems that Spike’s arrival has been very beneficial.” Wesley
says, hiding his grin. As much as he never thought he would or could say this,
Angelus’ surprise re-emergence on a limited basis, the effect on Angel has been
startling to see. The care he devotes to his last remaining Childe is sweet to
see and all the more surprising given his caretaker is one of the deadliest
Vampires in history. Wes smiles as he realizes that it is strangely fitting
though since Spike himself is also one of the deadliest Vampires in history.
“Charles has been telling me the most outlandish tales about how Angel
and Spike used to fight.” She says with a grin but it is tinged with a hint of
confusion as she has seen no evidence of the supposedly adversarial
relationship between the two Vampires that Gunn described.
“Gunn isn’t being melodramatic Fred but things are just more complicated
than he knows. Whatever their relationship was before, they’ve set that aside
and they’ve started over.” Wesley says as he guides Fred down the main staircase
towards the executive lobby.
“Whatever the reason is, it’s good to see Angel so happy.” Fred says
simply as they stroll into Angel’s office through the invitingly open doors.
They smile at Angel who’s lounging on the corner of his large old-fashioned
desk, looking at a file while Gunn reads from one braced across his lap as he
sits in a nearby chair.
They nod to Angel and Gunn as they hold up their hands in greeting as
they continue their conversation and they head over to sit on the sofa. Gunn
does a comical double take as he finally registers how Fred is dressed and
glances over appreciatively. Angel sees he’s distracted and follows the line of
his gaze to Fred and smiles wryly closing the file in his hand and leaning over
and flipping the cover closed on its twin resting across Gunn’s lap.
“I think we can safely assume we’re done for the day.” Angel quips
hopping off the desk with a silent chuckle, before rounding the desk and
falling into his chair with a grace that belies his powerful build. “You look
terrific Fred, I’m sure the birthday boy will appreciate it.” He smiles as Fred
flushes faintly in embarrassment.
“The Birthday boy… oh hey is someone having a birthday and forgot to let
me in on it?!” Gunn exclaims, not looking very pleased.
“A friend of Spike’s from the accounting department, uh Stony I believe
his name is.” Wesley says helpfully. “He’s a new arrival from the London office
and not many friends here yet as I understand it and it’s probably good company
relations if ‘the higher ups’ spend some time socializing with the employees or
so Spike explained it to me.” Wesley chuckles dryly.
Angel shoots him a sympathetic look. “You got off lucky Wes. Spike
talked me into letting the company pay for the whole thing as a morale
incentive for the employees. According to the accountancy department we’re
getting quite the tax write off though.” He shrugs, somewhat surprised that a
suggestion of Spike’s should actually end up saving him money in the end.
“Where is Spike by the way? I thought we were supposed to meet here at
“I’d hate to imagine Wes.” Angel says shaking his head. “He’s been
running all over the building since we got back from lunch this afternoon. Hey
did you know we’ve got a full service restaurant in the building?” Angel says
sounding as excitable as a little boy. “There’s this really great pool and spa
up on the roof too and a gym down on the third floor… well it *is* the third
floor actually.” He says shaking his head in wonder. “Rumour has it that Spike
was actually overseeing the preparation of the food for tonight. I’m not sure
why this has become so important to him but he’s certainly giving it his all.”
He says with a quiet laugh. “Harmony dragged him off for who knows where,
chattering like she does a mile a minute. All I heard was something about the
party and it being a special occasion.” He says with a shrug.
“I think it’s a chance to concentrate on something other than what he’s
been going through.” Wes says thoughtfully and after a moment Angel nods
accepting that it could be very possible that’s the reason.
“Charles, why don’t you come with
us? It could a lot of fun and we haven’t had a night of fun together for such a
long time. I kind of miss hanging out with you guys.” Fred says excitedly.
“Hanging out at a birthday for some guy I don’t know hardly sounds like
my idea of a good time Fred.” Gunn is startled into laughter but he looks a
little sheepish as Angel and Wes shoot him twin looks of censure as Fred’s
smile dims. He starts to apologize when the soft tone that signals the arrival
of the private elevator sounds softly and draws their attention.
Spike and Harmony walk off the elevator chatting animatedly, deep in
conversation so they miss the looks being aimed their way. Harmony is attired
in pink, her preferred shade being something between coral and what could be
affectionately called Pepto Bismol pink. None of them can deny however that
pink suits the artificially tanned blonde. The simple lines of her knee length
slip dress and a matching cashmere cardigan and soft-soled, moderate-heeled
leather pumps in a soft neutral tan suits the young Vampire. Her jewellery is
simple and elegant in frilly and florally ultra-feminine styles that may look
cutesy on anyone else but lend Harmony a sense of girlish whimsy that suits
her.
It’s Spike however that has drawn all of their astonished stares. There
is no sign of the black leather duster that they’ve never actually seen him
without. In fact he’s not dressed at all like how they’re used to seeing to
him. His heavy black biker boots and black denim jeans are no where to be seen
replaced with matte finish black suede cowboy boots and matching pants.
The black suede moulds to his powerfully muscled lower body with the
tenacity rarely seen outside the various species of leeches. They are cut to
cling low just over his hip bones before dipping inward to a playful vee front
button fly. The simplicity of his usual dark t-shirt and contrasting
button-down shirt is also absent. In its place is a silky satin-shiny
short-sleeved shirt in a breathtaking shade of slate blue. It is cropped to
fall just above the decorative waist band of the suede pants. The last and
lowest button has worked its way free of its silken bondage causing the bottom
of the shirt to gape slightly over the rippled muscles of Spike’s abdomen. The
glint of old reddish gold winks at them from Spike’s navel revealing the
piercing that only one of them has had the privilege of seeing until now. The
shirt clings tightly, displaying an impressively muscled chest that isn’t
always readily apparent in the looser t-shirts he prefers and that’s usually
concealed still further beneath his ubiquitous black duster. The neck line is
deeply vee’d and only three of the six buttons are fastened but he manages to
looks stylish casual rather than debauched. His muscles flex fluidly beneath
the confirming clothing as he gesticulates with his hand as he talks and he
looks like he’s clawed his way out of fantasies they didn’t even know that they
had.
His usual rings are in place but a new heavy gold toned bracelet
encircles on wrist. The simple gold chain he usually wears is also absent. In
its place is a slim, loose-fitting matte-finished black leather collar about
half an inch wide and a small gold charm hangs from the center to rest against
his collarbone. A fall of dark suede hangs from his hand and he shakes it out
as he laughs huskily at something that Harmony’s just said and he slips on the
black suede jacket vest, it has no buttons, zippers or catches and it’s obvious
that it is made to hang loose and open to frame whatever is beneath it and it
does its job very, *very* well.
“I’m sorry, are we late?” Harmony asks in a bubbly voice as she notices
the stares focused on their arrival.
Angel doesn’t answer as he turns his chair and flows smoothly to his
feet, stepping forward to meet Spike and Harmony and the pair react in unison
at his approach. Both stop and tilt their necks and at that moment it’s clear
that their necks are both sporting recent bite marks.
Angel nuzzles his nose over the mark on Spike’s neck, a single deep
penetrating bite that while showing signs of healing, still shows sign of
scarring where it rests just above the collar around his throat. Wesley, Fred,
and Gunn watch wide eyed at the sensually charge moment as Spike surrenders to
his Elder’s attentions as his renewed mark is scented and accepted in front of
witnesses signifying his acceptance and standing within the Order.
Angel and Spike both turn to Harmony, who is sporting twin bites lying
on opposite sides of her throat, and repeat the greeting. Wesley is startled to
realize that marking bites adorning Harmony’s neck and the formal and public
acknowledgement of them is the Vampire equivalent of an adoption! Judging by
the glowing smile on Harmony’s face as the older Vampires step away, it is a
very happy occurrence for the young fledgling.
Angel looks the pair over, his fingertips ghosting over the small charm
hanging from Spike’s collar before falling away and he nods, pleased with what
he sees. He returns to his chair with an enigmatic smile that widens into a
pleased grin as Spike and Harmony fall in behind him and separate to flank his
chair. Spike moves to his left and Harmony to his right as they array
themselves slightly to behind and to the sides without any cues from him.
Their movements are closely observed by Wesley who wishes he had a
notebook on hand so that he can write down his observations. While he’s had
several years to observe Angel, he hasn’t had any chance to see how Angel
behaves among other Vampires of his Order until now. It’s much more formal and
ritualized than he would have imagined. Somehow the perception that Vampires
are monsters is still ingrained in him but from what he can see the interpersonal
relationships between the Order’s members is much more complex than his studies
to date had revealed. He wonders what else he has been taught to believe is as
inaccurate?
“Oh my you look handsome Spike.” Fred says feeling breathless. “And you
look pretty Harmony.” She adds hurriedly not wanting to offend anyone.
“Thanks Fred.” Harmony brightens considerably.
“Thanks for that, Pet.” Spike replies resting his arm on the back of
Angel’s chair and leaning on it casually. “Are you coming to the party Charley-Boy?”
He asks quirking his brow up in inquiry.
“Absolutely, it sounds like it’ll be a blast.” Gunn says with a huge
grin, jumping out of his chair and loosening his tie. “It’ll be nice to spend
some fun time together for a change. I’ll just run up to my place and change
into something more ‘partay’ and less poster boy for the bar association, if
you don’t mind though.” Angel waves him off and he heads for the lobby
elevators at a fast trot while Fred stares after him with her mouth slightly
open in shock at his complete change of mind about the party.
“Is everything ready for the party?” Angel asks slipping an arm around
Spike’s waist loosely, resting his hand on his hip with a light familiarity
that doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Yes it is, *finally*.” The exasperation in Harmony’s voice is obvious.
“We had trouble with a couple of people that didn’t want to take orders. Spike
‘convinced’ them that it would be in the best interests of their continuing
good health if they did as they were told and they gave in… eventually.”
Angel narrows his eyes and the golden topaz flecks in his eyes glitter
dangerously. “Write down their names Harmony. First thing tomorrow call the
personnel division and have them pull the files on every one of them and have
them brought to me immediately.” His voice is calm and the order is softly
voiced… none of them are fooled for a second. They’re all glad that their name
won’t be among the number gracing Angel’s desk in the morning.
“Yes, Sir Boss. I’ll take care of it as soon as I get in.” Harmony says
in a conciliatory tone as she takes the pad of paper and a pen that Angel
slides over his desk towards her. She writes the names down quickly before
tearing off the page and folding it neatly. “I’ll just drop this off at my desk
on the way to the elevator.” She says waving the note.
“We should head down; the party will have started by now.” Spike adds, stepping clear as Angel pushes back his chair to stand up
with a nod.
Within moments he has them herded out of his office and towards the
elevators. He doesn’t miss the looks following them with more than casual
interest and curiosity. He knows the looks are harmless enough but he can’t
help but manoeuvre Spike to the centre of the group and placing himself between
the stares and his Childe.
Harmony stops off at her desk while Wes pushes the call button for the
elevator. “So what menu did you come up with for the party Spike? We hear
you’ve been visiting the executive dining room kitchens this afternoon.” Wes
asks with a mild curiosity and a desire to break the silence that has fallen
over the lobby. He’s noticed the stares being aimed in their direction and it’s
all he can do to not fidget under their weight.
“I dropped off copies of some of my Mum’s favourite recipes. Ones for
Chapter Six
Wesley pushes his chair back from
the table with a happy groan. “That was simply marvellous! I haven’t had food
like this since I left home.” He says with a happy grin. His friends arrayed
around the table chuckle at the glowing expression that has transformed their
oh-so -serious friend into a little boy again.
“Spike and I try to make the time to have lunch at the St. Regis a
couple of times a week; would you like to go with us?” Angel offers, his voice
softly accented and the golden flecks in his eyes are more prominent.
Wesley is startled to realize that it is Angelus who has extended the
invitation. He must admit that he’s still not entirely comfortable around the
Elder Vampire and who can blame him really? However he can’t help but admire
the way he’s set aside his anger at his own situation so that Angel will allow
him to share the company of their extraordinary Childe. In many ways Spike
mixes elements from his unusual Sire, with aspects of both Angel and Angelus
reflecting in the fascinating Vampire. The more time he spends with Spike and
even with Angelus, the less he believes that much of anything he’s learned and
been taught about Vampires applies to them.
He glances over at the dance floor where Harmony and Lorne are doing an
excellent rendition of a Saturday Night Fever dance revival. He admits that the
fledgling Vampire is very unusual as well, choosing to live by mortal standards
and rules and now finding herself as part of an ancient and powerful Order.
During a quiet talk with the bubbly secretary he knows that the early guidance
from Spike during her transitional phrase from Human to Vampire may have
something to do with that though.
He looks back at the Demon wearing his friend’s face. “I think that I
would like that, thank you.”
Angelus nods his head in acknowledgement and turns to watch as a
laughing Lorne half carries an almost hysterical Harmony back to the table.
Lorne nods his thanks to Spike as he uses his foot to push out the chair next
to him and reaches up to help guide the giggling blonde into her chair. He
laughs as Lorne falls into his own chair, his chest heaving with exertion and
laughter.
“That was so much fun, thanks Lorne. I haven’t danced like that since
the Seventies Night Ball back in High School. I’d forgotten I knew some of
those moves.” Harmony says with a giggle.
“You’re welcome my energetic little Harmonica. Just give me about a week
to recover and we may do that again.” Lorne says with a wheezing chuckle that
has the table in laughter. “Oh bless lamb chop!” Lorne falls on the Sea Breeze
that Fred slides over for him, gulping it down thirstily.
Angelus catches sight of one of the waiters and motions to him then to
Lorne before making a swirling motion with his hand around the table. The young
man nods and heads for the bar and he returns within moments with another round
of drinks for everyone and a grateful Lorne all but pounces on his before it
can be set in front of him.
The loud sound of happy laughter draws their attention to the corner
table where the party’s guest of honour is ensconced. Spike smiles at the huge
smile on his friend’s face as he looks on at the happy sight. Stony was one of
the first people to try and reach out to him and actually get to know him, not
being put off by the fact he was essentially talking to a Vampire Ghost at the
time. He wanted this party to be special as a way to thank his new friend for
helping to make his return a little less traumatic.
When he found out about the special convention of online writers that
was in town and that several of them were friends of some standing but that
they had never met, an idea struck him. Lorne’s contacts provided more than the
miracle tickets to the sold out events, they also provided the means for him to
contact the symposium’s organizer. As a result his friend is happy as can be in
the middle of a boisterous group of writers looking like all his Christmases
have come at once. Judging by the happy laughter and the beaming smiles all
around, this is one birthday his new friend will never forget, as he’s
surrounded by friends old and new alike.
“… for us Spike?”
Spike looks at Harmony with a puzzled expression, not realizing in his
ruminations that she had asked him something. “I missed that Harm, rewind and
replay it for me?”
“I said; why haven’t you sung for us Spike? All of us have had to sing
for Lorne at some point or another so he can read us but you haven’t yet; have
you?” She asks with a suspicious glint in her eye. “I know that you can sing, I
remember hearing a few impromptu concerts in the shower now and then.” She says
with a giggle as Spike mock growls at her for bringing that up.
“Spike, you can sing?” Fred says excitedly.
“I can most definitely *not* sing Fred.” Spike growls softly, shooting a
narrow-eyed look of ire Harmony’s way as he mutters something beneath his
breath about bloody singing and dancing demons that most of them can’t quite
make out.
“Now Lad you know that’s a lie.” Angelus says with a grin that only
grows as those eldritch blue eyes are turned on him in silent censure. “They
may have likened me to an Angel when they gave me the name but you my Boy would
put a heavenly chorus to shame if you wanted to.”
One by one the demand for Spike to sing is picked up by everyone at the
table and slowly spreads from table to table until a choir of voices is
chanting for him to sing much to his embarrassment and disgust.
“I don’t want to get up there like a bloody Ricky Martin clone ya
nabobs.” Spike says with a snarl. Singing has always been something personal to
him, much like his poetry, and only Angelus has ever had the gift of more than
a scattered overheard serenade now and then.
Angelus leans over and flutters his hand and he watches as Spike’s
muscles tense but he leans over to meet him without resisting. “Ye *will* sing me a song my Laddy. It has
been too long since the tones of your voice were raised in song. Too many years
have passed without the sound of my home falling from your lips. Sing me back
home my Precious, by choice or by my will but sing you will.” He breathes under
his breath knowing that his boy will hear him as easily as if he were shouting.
Spike straightens with a growl of disgust on his face but an unholy
gleam causes his blue eyes to ignite and for a moment Angelus wonders at the
wisdom of commanding his Childe’s obedience in such a trivial matter. He spoke
truly however, it has been too long since his Childe’s dulcet tones fell upon
his starved ears. He watches as Spike pushes back his chair and rises
gracefully to his feet, stalking across the distance to the small stage that
has been set up nearby. His brow furrows as Spike leans over to talk to the
band in tones so quiet that he can hear only a word now and then but his eyes
narrow as he notices the fixed gazes of the band locked on his boy.
Spike slips his hands up his side slowly peeling off his suede jacket
and tossing it casually over a nearby stool and steps up to the microphone and
taps it lightly, the quiet sound of the feedback drawing the curious gaze of
those closest to the stage.
“For those of you out there that haven’t met me, I’m Spike and I guess
you can call me the former ghost in the machinery around here.” Trickles of laughter
flutter out among those that know those words were true until a very short time
ago. “I’ve been… asked… to entertain you for a few moments and I’ve been…
persuaded to comply.” He shoots a fiery glance at Angelus, who only crosses his
arms over his powerful chest and looks annoyingly proud. “So in honour of this
special occasion and my good mate Stony, I’d like to sing you a song or two
just to pass the time. This first song is a special request from a very, very
old friend. I hope it’s everything you expected Pet.” Spike nods to the
musicians who start playing a quiet and simple tune that immediately catches
everyone’s attention.
Spike steps closer to the microphone one hand lifting to cup it tenderly
as he pulls it closer to his waiting mouth. The crowd holds its breath waiting
for the rock god on the stage to blast out some angry song by some little known
punk band before the band starts playing the *real* song.
Their do chliù na
Hearadh bhòidheach!
Feadh gach cearn far am bi d' àl,
Cha teid àilleachd tìr an àraich
As an seallaidhean gu brath.
The Gaelic words flow fluently carried by a softly husky voice wrapped
in a soft as a cloud whiskey smooth brogue suppressing his usual accent. It is
obvious that Spike is fluent in Gaelic as the gorgeous sounds fall from his
lips like water from a waterfall, smooth, incessant, and ever flowing.
Tha na
deòir a ruith 'o m' shùilean
Is tha gaoir a dol tro' m' chridh',
Oir tha m'inntean 'nochd 's na
Hearadh
Ged is fad an dràsd' as mi.
Angelus jerks up straight in his seat, his eyes flying open wide and his
mouth drops open as he stares at Spike in disbelief. After several seconds he
collapses back into his chair in paroxysms of silent mirth that has everyone at
the table staring at him in shock, never having seen such a display from their
normally reserved friend.
Tha gach sgìr is tha gach baile;
Tha gach machair, beinn is bàgh
A tigh'n dhòmhsa na
dealbh-dathach,
Dùsgadh cianalas gach
là'.
Cidh' an Tairbeart na cheud starsaich
Aig gach neach a theid air tìr;
Tha gach gleann is cnoc mun cuairt
dhiubh
Tabhainn fia'chadh dhoibh is sìth.
“I say are you alright… Angel…?” Wesley says after a moment, hesitating
to call him Angelus even though he’s perfectly aware that it is he who is
currently in control of the body of his friend. He can’t help but be captured
by the pure laughter that has his eyes flashing and the biggest smile he’s ever
seen on that usually so serious face.
Angelus nods, still wracked by chuckles, unable to catch his breath even
though he doesn’t need to actually breathe and he makes every effort to regain
his self-control. “I’m fine Wesley.” He says huskily, his powerful chest still
shaking in the occasional aftershock of a silent laugh. “I’m just reminded why
he was my favourite Childe.” He admits much to the shock of everyone at the
table and they all tip forward in their chairs in unison, eager to hear more.
“Really, would you care to share that reason?” Wesley says trying to
feign a mild, socially acceptable level of curiosity unaware that his eyes are
bright with his true insatiable thirst for knowledge. Everyone at the table
nods their encouragement, all of them glad that one of them had the presence of
mind to ask that question.
Cha chuir latha, 's cha chuir
bliadhna,
Cha chuir mìltean speur no cuan;
Doille iomhaigh air do mhaise
'S dha do shluagh bi' m' ghaol-sa
buan.
Angelus gestures towards the
stage and the grinning blond who winks back saucily as he breaks into a soft
romantic ballad from a well known American band back in the eighties. It is no
less lovely than the Gaelic but the crowd claps its approval as these words
they can at least understand.
“That song is called In Praise of Harris.”
Angelus says in disgust.
There is a moment of silence then everyone breaks into laughter as they
remember the tense week while the group from Sunnydale was staying in town. It
was obvious that Angel and Xander Harris were hardly fond of each other and the
memory of several funny incidents makes them laugh all the more.
“He is magnificent isn’t he? Even as he obeys me he finds a way to defy
me, to challenge me, to make me earn his loyalty and acquiescence. He is truly
the strongest of my blood, even as he is the youngest; he is a masterpiece of
chaos. The others all feared me and respected me and my word was law and my
will was God and they worshipped at my feet, even my own Sire. He was the only
one to stand up and demand to know the reasons
why he should do any of those things just by virtue that I say it should be so.
I did my best to destroy him, to remake him in my image and make him a
monster.” Angelus’ voice softens. “Instead, I find that while I was moulding
him, he was chiselling away at my own foundations. The more cruelty I heaped on
his head, the more damage that I did, the stronger he became. I look at him now
and I still see what I shaped in him but now I see what he has grown in me. The
seeds planted long ago have grown to a garden… I’m just not sure if I’m a
flower or a weed.” Angelus says with a self-conscious chuckle. “And that Wesley is the reason that he was,
is, and will always be my favourite Childe.” Angelus says with quiet sincerity.
“Perhaps you just need a good gardener.” Wesley quips teasingly and
Angelus chuckles softly.
“Yes, perhaps it is so Watcher, perhaps so.” Angelus agrees as he rises
from his chair and walks to towards the dance floor set up in front of the
stage and lifts his hand in silent command.
Spike lets the last stanza of the song fall away as he glides forward
and places his hand in his Sire’s strong grip without an ounce of fear or
hesitation. He lets himself be pulled against the powerful form and melts into
the soft embrace as Angelus’ arms close around him pulling him into a slow
dance. The band obligingly breaks into a suitably soft and romantic ballad as
the softly swaying pair soon draws other couples to the dance floor in their
wake.
There's such a sad love
Deep in your eyes, a kind of pale
jewel
Open and closed within your eyes
I'll place the sky within your eyes
There's such a fooled heart
Beating so fast in search of new
dreams
A love that will last within your
heart
I'll place the moon within your
heart
Angelus tightens his arms around Spike until there is no part of them
that isn’t touching, touched, or caressed and he sighs as his Childe answers
his demands and silently moulds his body into him. Their bodies are barely
moving but their hearts are soaring up to a place where only two can meet,
twining together and falling back towards the ground of reality only to part
and soar heavenward once more in a dance older than time itself.
As the pain sweeps through
Makes no sense for you
Every thrill has gone
Wasn't too much fun at all
But I'll be there for you-oo-oo
As the world falls down
Falling
(As the world) Falling down
Falling in love
Spike looks up at his handsome Sire and dives into the fathomless brown
sea of his eyes. “Is that what we’re doing? Falling in love?” His tone is shy
but his gaze is proud and bold.
“Our whole existence has been one long fall William.” Angelus lets his
hand trail down Spike’s smoothly flexing back to rest with comfortable
familiarity over the curve of a suede covered cheek.
I'll paint you mornings of gold
I'll spin you Valentine evenings
Though we're strangers till now
We're choosing the path between the
stars
I'll leave my love between the stars
Angelus pivots them into a turn and Spike sighs and leans into it, and
letting his head fall forward to rest on a silent chest. He smiles as it soon
vibrates beneath his sensitive ear as Angelus begins to purr in a continuous
but almost silent cadence. He finds that he hardly misses the sound of a
heartbeat beneath his ear, not when Angelus’ heart is speaking so loudly
without a sound at all.
As the pain sweeps through
Makes no sense for you
Every thrill has gone
Wasn't too much fun at all
But I'll be there for you-oo-oo
As the world falls down
Falling
(As the world) Falling down
Falling in love
Angelus feels a slight tickle in the back of his mind and he knows that
the part of him that is Angel has stirred to wakefulness and for a moment he
laments knowing that this usually means he must relinquish his time with his
boy. He is startled to feel ghostly arms curl around his mind and he knows in
that moment they are sharing this moment out of time in a way that they never
have before. For the first time since he was trapped within his own mind he
opens himself to the Soul and reaches out tenuously. Not a word is said between
Soul and Demon as they join in their dance with ‘their’ Childe and for the
first time they are truly at peace within themselves and within each other.
Falling
(As the world) Falling down
Falling
As the world falls down
Falling
Falling
Falling
Falling in love
As the world falls down
(Down) Falling
Falling
Falling
Falling in love
As the world falls down
Falling
Falling
Falling
“Angel and… Spike?” Fred squeaks in shock as
she watches the slow dancing pair.
“Yo man when did *that* happen?” Gunn says similarly shocked.
Harmony just looks on with a pleased and clearly unsurprised smile full
of affection and happiness. She of course knew that there was more between the
pair than the others having the benefit of her Demon’s innate knowledge of
Sires and their Childer. She smiles happily at the thought that they have taken
her into their Order and under their proverbial wings. Her fingertips lift to
brush over the marks on her throat and she basks in the knowledge that she
belongs.
Lorne’s expression however is uncommonly solemn and his eerie red eyes
blaze dangerously and he mutters something about Slayers and shotguns as he
tosses back the rest of his drink and signals for another.
Wesley can’t take his eyes off the dancing Vampires, they look like they
belong together they fit so perfectly together. Angelus’ form towers over the
more delicate build of the smaller blond but instead of dwarfing him, Spike
seems to complete him. Where there is a void, Spike fills it, where there is a
separation Spike is the bridge. They’ve all been so caught up in watching and
listening to them fight and snipe at each other that none of them noticed how
right they were in silence.
He watches as Spike flows into Angelus, as a river flows into the ocean,
the initial clash one of tumultuous conflict as fresh water meets the salty but
eventually water knows water and the intrusion is accepted and welcome. In the
end they are one and the same for all their differences. He looks on and he
wants to dive into those waters, drown in the fathomless blues, and feel the
current of those muscles as they move to their unseen tides and eddies. He
looks on and he wants….
Makes no sense at all
Makes no sense to fall
Falling
As the world falls down
Falling
Falling
Falling in love
As the world falls down
(Down) Falling
Falling
Falling in love
Falling in love (love)
Falling in love
Falling in love
Falling in love
Wesley watches as Gunn stands and holds his hand out to Fred and escorts
the shyly blushing young woman out onto the dance floor. He sighs knowing that
the hand he wishes would rise and beckon him from his seat is already full and
he follows Lorne’s example and motions to the waiter too.
Chapter Seven
Wesley strolls through the lobby with his eyes glued to a file,
oblivious until he’s suddenly flying forward. Strong hands catch him and pull
him against a lithe but muscular body, righting him with a concerned patting of
hands on his shoulder.
“Careful there Wes, you almost got a nose job the hard way there.” Spike
says with a chuckle leaning over and picking up the folder. The contents are
fortunately still secured safely in order inside and returns it as Wes looks
around the lobby in amazement. There are flowered decorations practically
overflowing the usually starkly business like environment and he stares in
amazement at a life sized golden white teddy bear.
“What in the world happened in here? It looks like a botanical garden
exploded in here.” Wes says in amazement. He turns to Spike his mouth opening
to ask another question but it closes with an audible snap of his jaw as he
gets his first good look at the blond.
His heavy biker style boots have been replaced with a lighter pair of
more stylish footwear but the black metal decorative bits over the toes, instep
and heels make them look no less formidable. The hip hugging button-fly jeans
are soft matte-finished black leather in a brushed texture that makes them look
touchable and petal soft. A slender dark bluish-black belt with a decorative
clasp is centered on his abdomen. The unfortunate animals that represent the
unrelieved could not have possibly worn those skins any tighter. With his
jacket tossed over one of Spike’s arms the rest of the outfit is exposed to his
grateful gaze.
A sleeveless dark blue t-shirt is tucked in neatly and it clings to him
so tightly that he can see his muscles rippling under its soft cotton embrace.
The neckline is high and gently rounded displaying the same collar and charm he
was wearing at the party. He’s much closer this time and he can see that it is
a curious stylized Gryphon clutching an A in one taloned foot and an S in the
other. It’s a very striking design managing to be both elegant and somewhat
gothically flamboyant, a mixture that seems to suit its wearer. The same rings
and bracelets grace his fingers and wrists but the soft hint of colour that is
black hills gold peeks from his left earlobe and brow in the form of simple
piercings.
Wesley swallows heavily and looks away. The update to Spike’s wardrobe
may well give him premature heart failure, no due thanks to Harmony’s incessant
love of fashion. He looked good before but now he looks… beautiful, if ever
that word could be used to describe a man than it is Spike. The more tailored
look suits the times but the choice of materials, fit, and design are a
celebration of form and function that suits Spike’s sensually wilder and untamed
personality but remains comfortable. He’s noticed as well that Spike’s martial
nature has been taken into account and he fancies he could fight and titillate
with equal simplicity. As seductive as Spike may be, he is and always will be a
fighter.
“I’m not really sure what’s going on mate. Harmony said they just
started showing up this morning. Every damn florist in this town must be
thanking their lucky stars. I took a walk through the building earlier and
every floor looks like this, damndest thing I ever saw to be sure. I had to
double check the date, thought maybe Valentine’s Day got moved or something.”
Spike says shrugging his shoulders and shaking his jacket out and sliding it
on.
Wesley does a comical double-take as he realizes that the jacket is new,
though the black leather has been artfully distressed to make it look like he
had it for years just like his old one. The new Duster style jacket is more
tailored and the cut of it is slightly different and more suited to Spike’s
deceptively lithe build.
As Spike pulls the edges together over his abdomen and closes the three
snap-clip closures the true ingeniousness of the design is revealed. The collar
stands up slightly, just enough to frame the marble perfection of his throat as
the leather clings to his chest, tailored by the closures over his belly. The
sleeves flare slightly to afford him a full and easy range of movement and the
cuffs are tailored neatly at his wrists, not binding his movements and just
high enough not to obstruct his hands. While he’s standing still the jacket
looks almost identical to the old one but as he watches Spike shift his weight
the coat falls away from his legs to display the clothing beneath. Another
subtle shifting of his weight and the sight is swallowed up in black leather
once more. The sides and back are all slit and cunningly pleated to allow full
range of movement but designed to display the body beneath to its utmost
advantage. He knows without a doubt that the jacket had to be custom tailored
if not made entirely just for Spike because no one he knows is built like
Spike; unless panthers have somehow learned to walk and it escaped his notice.
“Is that a new jacket?” He asks feigning a casual interest.
“Yes it is. I mentioned to Angel that I thought it was time I gave up my
old one and what it stands for and he surprised me with a new one.” Spike says
smiling happily. “And it’s not that he doesn’t owe me a lot more than a
smashing new jacket mind you.” He adds with a grin.
“What it stands for?” Wes asks confused.
“It belonged to the second Slayer I killed.” Spike says simply his
expression turning serious and somber. “That’s strangely not why I took it
thought, as a trophy I mean, at least that wasn’t my intention at the time.
Nikki Woods was a strong woman, courageous and tough and I could have as easily
lost the fight for the right to exist as she did. It wasn’t about winning
though or even about survival to me then. It was all about the dance, proving
to myself that I was alive, even in this shell of a dead man from long ago. The
jacket, her jacket was just a symbol, one I don’t need to define me any
longer.”
“Ahhh yes, I remember meeting Robin Woods when… after that thing in
Sunnydale.” Wes says only stumbling over the words slightly. With that reminder
he remembers reading some notations in the Watchers Diaries about the jacket
and how it was acquired.
“You mean after I died and took the whole damn Hellmouth with me?” Spike
says wryly. “You can say it Wes, I died and if you have to get technical about
it, I’m *still* dead.” He says with a gentle slap on the arm. “I considered
sending the jacket to Woods but than that wouldn’t be odd or anything seeing as
how the last time anyone saw it, it was burning up with me wearing it.”
Wesley clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “Yes well that could
be a difficult situation.” He agrees. “It’s a very nice coat; I’ve always
wanted to buy one like it but never got around to it.” He says wistfully.
“Well you can have it if you like Wes. I don’t think Nikki Woods would
mind so much if a Watcher inherited it. Be almost like keeping it in the family
don’t you think?”
Wesley is touched and shocked at the honour Spike is offering and has to
swallow hard to avoid shouting out his answer. “If you think it would be
alright.” He says mildly but he can’t get over the fact that he could own
something that’s graced Spike’s body for so long. It would almost be like
wearing… him.
“I’ve packed it up so when I get settled I’ll bring it with me when I
visit shall I?” Spike asks, his eyes roving over the masses of flowers and
chuckling.
“Packed it up and get settled where? What’s going on Spike? I thought
you were happy here?” Wes asks in alarm.
“I am happy here Wes but I am also in an ivory tower here.” Spike
glances around him. “Or maybe I’m just a flower in a hothouse but this isn’t my
reality any more than the void I returned from. I’ve never truly been alone. As
a Human I was tied to a mortal life with my Mother’s apron strings. In death I
was tied to the family, through more bounds than I can really count. After
Angelus was souled and left us, Dru was still there, I was still protected
somewhat from the world. Everything I did was for Drusilla or because of her in
some way. She leaves me and what do I do? I move heaven and earth to get her
back and that fails. Then there was Harmony and the search for the Ring of
Amara and even that wasn’t really for something that I wanted for myself
really.” Spike says quietly walking over to the steps and leaning back over
them in a gracefully relaxed sprawl.
Wes walks over and sits beside him and tries to ignore the alluring
sight of a sprawling Spike. “So why did you want the ring if it wasn’t for
yourself?” He asks focusing on a nearby clump of flower arrangements.
“Do you think for a moment that Angel would have let me walk around with
the ring, not knowing what kind of mischief I could get up to with it? Drusilla
would have learned that I had it and few things hold her attention as well as
power. Except perhaps a dangerous liaison with a very bad boy, she always liked
it when there was almost as much pain as there was pleasure. At the very least
the Slayer would have tried to stop me.” Spike says looking disgusted. “As
usual I had to rush everything. Patience was never a strong suit of mine
before.” He says with a wry grin.
“So either Angel would have come to stop you… or Drusilla returned to
you… or you got another shot at a Slayer. I see what you mean about not really
wanting the ring just because you wanted it.”
“It wasn’t a perfect plan but they wouldn’t have been able to ignore me
any longer. I’ve never really been alone in anything I’ve ever done, Wes. I
lived for my Mother, I died for Drusilla, I loved for Angelus, and I died for
Buffy. Now I think I may be losing myself in Angel and Angelus *both*, content
to let him… them… take care of everything. I need to find out who I am before I
can give myself away to anyone else and right now I don’t. I know who I was but
I’m not so sure who I am now. I’ve changed a lot and it’s not just the soul or
dying again but who I *am*, is different. I need to figure out who I am now and
I can’t do that here, protected from everything and everyone.”
“And Angel… and Angelus… are going to allow you to go?” Wes says
surprised at that notion. From what he’s seen over the last couple of days
Angel is just as protective of Spike as his un-souled half.
“It’s what he has to do Wes and we either agree, thereby knowing how
he’s doing or he’ll go without our consent and we won’t. Spike’s agreed to come
here every night at least twice a day and he’ll be here to help us with some of
our tougher cases. He’ll still be feeding from me exclusively so we can monitor
his health and make sure he’s alright. The rest he’ll sort out for himself.”
Angel says quietly as he walks down the staircase behind him. The resignation
and worry in his voice are clear but so is the pride at Spike’s actions. Angel
flips the coat of his tailored jacket aside and lounges beside Spike on the
steps one hand rising to stroke the back of his hand down one prominent
cheekbone.
Spike makes a soft purring sound and leans over to welcome his Sire by
nuzzling his jaw and tilts his head to the side baring his throat in a
traditional display. The sound intensifies as Angel answers the caress and Wes
almost chuckles thinking that they look remarkably cat-like at that moment.
The opening of the elevator draws their attention and the three men
stare in amazement as what look like three balls of flowers with legs walks off
the elevator and stumbles over to Harmony’s desk.
“What in the Hell is going on around here? Is there some office memo
that I missed or something?” Angel exclaims staring at the legion of flowers.
“If you missed it than so did I.” Wes says dryly while Spike just looks
amused.
“Could it be like that bizarre day we had when all the phones went nuts
and the copier guy went all Jack the Ripper in the Xerox room down on the
ninth?” Both Wes and Angel look blank for a moment before they click to the
memory. “Did we ever find out what Sirk
the jerk was really up to anyway?”
“All I can surmise is that he was hired specifically to get you two out
into the desert. As to what reason, who can say but I’m sure it wasn’t an
innocuous reason. We’re lucky that whatever went wrong got into the computer
system and forced the building into a security lockdown, or you two may have
walked into a trap. It can’t have been that serious if the Senior Partners were
able to fix it one could assume.” Wesley says with a shrug.
“Or they were the ones that were manipulating us for whatever reason.
I’m positive that Eve knew more than she was letting on about what was going
on.” Angel says implacably. “She’s hardly normal by any means but ever since
Spike show… arrived… she’s been acting even stranger than before.”
“She keeps asking me out for a drink.” Spike reveals suddenly. He stares
as both Angel and Wes turn their heads to stare at him in shock and no little
suspicion. “I didn’t go.” He says with a chuckle as both look relieved.
“There’s just something off about a bird that keeps inviting a bloke to a strip
bar for a drink. It doesn’t seem like the kind of place that little miss
Christian Dior frequents usually.”
“She wanted to take you for a drink at a *strip bar*?” Angel exclaims loudly, flushing faintly as people
suddenly seem to be staring at him from every direction until a small growl
gets them moving on their way in a hurry.
“Yeah that was pretty much my reaction too, love… only I was quieter
about it.” Spike says with a chuckle, laughing quietly as Angel mock growls and
aims a soft tap at the back of his head that barely ruffles his hair.
“I have to say it does seem to be an unusual choice.” Wes says
distractedly. Ever since their arrival, he’s had the feeling that Eve has been
manipulating them. Not a huge surprise given who she works for admittedly but
he’s positive she has her own agenda as well and unless he’s mistaken it has
more than a little to do with Spike. Her interest in him has been just a little
too attentive to be anything other than a personal interest. What form that
interest will take however, that remains to be seen.
“I thought I might drop by the bar she wanted to take me to, just to
have a look around.” Spike says with a shrug. “If she doesn’t know that I’m
going then if it’s a set up there shouldn’t be time to alert whoever was behind
it I would think, especially if you blokes were here to keep her busy and
distracted.”
“I’m not sure that I’m comfortable about you going alone Spike. For all
we know they could have some mystical spell tracking you or something more
technological if not benign. Fred’s shown me some of what they’re working on in
the R&D division and it’s enough to give me nightmares.” Angel says with a
shudder that looks so comical that Spike and Wes both start coughing before
they can start laughing.
“Well I’ll just have to put my incredibly sexy body in Wes’ capable
hands.” Spike says with a wink at Angel. “I’m sure he can work his mojo stuff
and keep their mitts off me… mystically speaking.”
“I say what?” Wes asks with a startled jump in place.
“Distracted by something there Wesley?” Angel asks his eyes narrowing.
It hasn’t escaped his attention that Wes has been unusually interested in the
reawakened relationship between Spike and himself and wonders if he could be
harbouring a secret crush. He hopes Spike doesn’t catch on, he’s never
responded well to competition for the affections of someone he cares about and
frankly he’s just never really felt that way about Wesley.
“Allow me to recap for the oblivious among us.” Spike says with a husky
chuckle. “Sexy body, mine, in your hands, your mojo, their hands off, and all
is right with Spikey world.”
“Oh right, counter-spell to block any tracking or spy spells they have
on you, do-able.” Wes says with a nod. “It will be difficult though to counter
spells unless I know specifically what they are but there’s something that they
taught us at the
“Oh brilliant chap you are Wes ole mate. That’s even better than not
knowing where I am, thinking I’m somewhere that I’m not is just bloody
brilliant.” Spike says with a grin and a pat on his shoulder. “It should drive
them totally batty figuring out where their pretty spells went wrong.”
“I’ll head to my office and do the appropriate counter-spells but I’ll
need something of yours to be the sympathetic focus for the magic if I’m to
bind it to you.” Wes says quietly. “The more personal the item the better it
will be for the spell.”
Spike thinks for a moment and then leans over and whispers something in
Angel’s ear who smiles gently and nods. He leans over and pulls up Spike’s left
pant leg and pulls a wickedly sharp dagger out of a special compartment built
into the side of his boot while Spike combs through his hair picking up a
softly waving lock. Angel’s hand flashes forward and to the side with surgical
precision neatly severing the lock without a hint of damage anywhere else. As
Angel replaces the dagger in its hiding place spike carefully hands the lock of
hair to Wesley who cradles it in his palm before closing his hand tightly
around it.
“Yes that will do admirably.” Wes swallows heavily through a suddenly
constricted throat, the lock of hair in his hand causing his palm to tingle
faintly. He’s glad that his voice is steady and only slightly roughened by the
emotions he’s keeping tightly locked away.
“I’m going to trust that you’ll be careful Wes. I don’t want anyone in
this hellhole getting access to anything that they can use to get influence
over Spike.” Angel says seriously, gesturing towards Wes’ tightly closed hand.
“I’ve got a binding spell that will render it useless for anything of
that nature once I’ve done the other spell. I won’t let any harm be done
Angel.” Wes says quietly stoic. “I am aware of the trust you are placing in me
and I will live up to it.” Wes stands and heads up the staircase and towards
his office, hyper-aware of the precious lock of pale hair in his hand.
Angel looks at Spike cuddled against his side with an easy grace and
relaxation that makes him feel as though he’s been handed everything he’s ever
wanted. If ever he wondered what the depths of Wil’s feelings for him were,
those wandering thoughts have been answered. He has allowed him to resume his
place as his Sire and Elder, though by rights he could and should still hate
him for what he’s done to him in the past. He’s stopped flinching or tensing up
when he touches him and he’s started to feel confident once more in reaching
out to him, indicating his willingness to accept his touch with almost the same
guileless fervour as when he was a fledgling.
“Did Eve mention the name of the bar she wanted to take you to?” He
asks. “I think we should have Lorne run it through his sources before you go
check it out. If it’s connected to Wolfram & Hart in anyway, you’re not
going in there alone.” He says implacably.
“The Peppermint Stick, that strip club off of Kavian and Alinor, on the
East side.” Spike says with a shrug. “She seemed to think I’d find the fact
that most of the dancers are petite blondes interesting.”
“It seems our company liaison has been doing her homework on you my
Lad.” Angel growls with subtle menace his whiskey brown eyes glittering
dangerously as the deeply vibrant topaz highlights flash.
“It makes me wonder why they’d bother. It’s a widely belief that you and
I have hardly been on any terms speaking or otherwise that didn’t involve a
punch or throwing sharp pointy things at each other. What advantage would
trying to get to me garner them?” Spike says disgustedly.
“Perhaps they saw you as an ally but in light of the changes between us
you may be even more valuable to them now that they know I’m not disinterested
in what happens to you. I don’t think they have any idea of just how precious
you are to me My Lad. I’ve asked Gunn to draw up some legal papers that I plan
to sign this evening as will you Wil. Gunn assures me it is an airtight
contract that even the Senior Partners would have to honour and it should
protect you from whatever angle Eve is working. I have a feeling that it’s not
something the Senior Partners have endorsed but some personal agenda.”
“Ummm, Angel, could you come here a moment?” Harmony calls out, sounding
uncertain and more than a little nervous, which immediately draws their
attention. She’s looking at something resting on her desk and Angel heaves a
sigh and gets to his feet and crosses the distance with an aggrieved scowl.
“What is it Harmony?” His voice is clipped with not so silent annoyance
at having to leave his comfortable perch beside Spike. He looks over the edge
of the counter and down at Harmony’s desk and stares unblinkingly. “What in the
Hell is that?” He barks staring at the open jewellery case sitting on Harmony’s
desk.
Nestled amongst the dark sapphire blue velvet is a collar of thick
linked Platinum, blue diamonds and sapphires and from the center of the collar
hangs a glittering diamond spike. Angel narrows his eyes and starts growling as
Harmony winces in empathy. Whoever sent this unfathomably expensive gift that
could only be meant for Spike is going to be lucky to live through the end of
the day.
“I saw it when I cleared that last batch of flowers that were just
delivered off my desk. None of the invoices or delivery orders I signed for
listed any jewellery. No one in their right mind would just leave this here
without having anyone sign for it. Something this expensive could support some
third world countries for years.” Harmony says swallowing heavily.
“Call the security desk and find out which delivery men they cleared to
come up here. Find which of them dropped off that *thing* and find out who sent
it Harmony. When you do have security find them and escort them to my office
immediately, do you understand me?” Angel growls.
“I tried Angel but there’s only one Security guard on duty down there
and he said that no jewellery deliveries were declared or accepted by him but
admits that several deliverymen have slipped passed him. He’s trying his best
Angel but that’s a big lobby and almost impossible for one person to watch
efficiently.” Harmony explains nervously. “He has no idea who delivered this up
here. There’s a faint scent on it but it’s no one that I recognize and I can’t
smell it in the room, only on the box so it must have been sitting here for a
while.”
Angel’s nose flares slightly and wrinkles faintly. The scent is faint as
Harmony stated and he can’t identify it by the traces that remain but something
about it immediately gets his back up and bristling. “Where the hell are all
the security guards in this damn building Harmony that only one is left
guarding the lobby not to mention the other floors?” He barks.
“There’s some problem down on the tenth floor I guess. The guard down at
the main desk said that almost all the security guards have been down there
handling it all afternoon.” Harmony says with a helpless shrug, frowning as
Spike starts making choked sounding snickers and coughs over where he’s
sitting. Suddenly her eyes widen and her mouth drops open as she suddenly
remembers just what is on the tenth floor and she flushes faintly as she closes
her jaw with a snap.
“Call up the reserve list Harmony and tell them to get their asses down
here and fire every damn one of them not at their post when they get here.”
Angel snarls. “Then find out who sent *that* and have them brought to me along
with their personnel records and get rid of that. I never want to so much as
see it in here again. I don’t care what you do with it but get that gaudy piece
of trash out of my sight.”
“Yes, Sir, Boss. I’ll handle it personally.”
Harmony promises with an unholy gleam in her eyes as she snaps the case closed
with a very final sounding snap.
Angel turns on his heel and strides for his office. “Let’s go Spike.”
His voice is soft and gentle though his body language betrays that he is
anything but either of those.
Spike flows to his feet with effortless grace and stalks after Angel’s
retreating form. “Good luck Harmony Gal.” He says quietly as he turns to follow
his Sire in a slow floating swagger that only he can pull off, his coat
swinging in a hypnotic rhythm around and behind him as he enters Angel’s office
and closes the door softly after him. The sound of the lock turning is like a
rifle shot in the suddenly too quiet room and it almost drowns out the wave of envious sighs that follow Angel and
Spike’s departures.
Harmony is forced to resort to growls and menacing looks to get everyone
moving again before she calls down to the secretarial pool for a temporary
replacement. She hangs up the phone and grabs the jeweller’s case and locks it
in the special small safe behind her desk that she uses for special high
security items and heads for the elevator. She has her orders and she’s going
to enjoy carrying them out, her features rippling briefly as her Demon rises to
the fore in anticipation before flickering back to normal.
Chapter Eight
Spike looks around the club with a slight grimace at the scents
assaulting his sensitive nose. His eyes pass over the not unattractive blonde
dancer gyrating her way around the pole on the stage without a pause. His taste
runs to something of a darker nature these days.
He tosses back the last of his Jack Daniels and sets the glass down with
controlled violence, reaching into his pocket for some of the money Angel
pushed on him before he left. Even as his fingertips touch the crisp bills a
glass appears in front of him as though magically conjured from the ether of
nothingness that permeates the classy but debauched surroundings. He looks up
to see a man standing beside the table smiling at him and his nose wrinkles
slightly as his scent seems vaguely familiar for some reason. His instinctual
response is a snarl and he’s surprised by the impulse as he forces it back down
into the pit of his stomach. He hasn’t reacted so instantly, with such intense
dislike of anyone since the two Slayers he killed… and Darla… and he sniffs
disparagingly.
“Uh, yeah, thanks... but not really my type, Mary. So be a good lad and
push off.” He pushes the drink the man set on the table in front him away and
sets two twenties on the table fanning them out to catch the greedy eye of the
waitress. He looks up and quirks his brow inquisitively as the man doesn’t
leave, just stands there smiling in a way that makes him slightly
uncomfortable. “What are you gawking at?”
“A guy like you, whiling away his time in some cheesy downtown strip
dive. Look like somebody who's feeling kinda lost.” The man says looking at him
from beneath his lashes in what he can only assume is meant to be a seductive
manner.
“Is that right? Funny, thought I knew exactly where I was.” He points to
the sign over the stage. “Place called the Peppermint Stick.” He turns his
finger to point at the dancer. “Prima ballerina up there's Sunshine. Though I'm
fairly certain that's not her real name.” He adds dryly. The stranger watches
him closely but he’s carefully schooled his features and body not to betray his
unease.
“You know... we really should talk.” The man’s accent is faintly twanged
with a touch of the southern accents he’s heard on his travels through the
eastern states. His clothing looks like it was pulled right out of Urban Cowboy
but the ease with which he wears them tells him it’s more than just an
affectation for effect.
His instincts are warning him that there is more to this stranger than
it seems and if he ever listens to anything it’s his instincts. It’s saved him
many times before. “You know? Really not.” He stands and finds he’s right in
the man’s personal space but he doesn’t move away. “I don't know what you're
selling, but best you peddle your wares someplace else if you know what's good
for you.” He starts to walk away.
He can feel the man’s eyes on him as tangible as any touch. “Hey,
Spike....” His muscles lock up and freeze at the unexpected sound of his name
on a stranger’s lips. “…Get any interesting mail lately?”
He turns to slowly face the man a suspicious look in his eyes. “Who the
bloody hell are you?”
The man smiles widely. “Your new best friend.”
“You?! You say you're responsible for me being back?” He walks back
towards the stranger. “You sent that package with the de-ghosting mojo.”
“And?” He asks, pausing expectantly.
“The amulet.” He realizes suddenly. For whatever his reasons may have
been or continue to be, this man is the one that returned him to his Sire. The
man makes a motion with his hand indicating that he was indeed responsible for
that. “You mailed that thing to Wolfram & Hart.”
“Hey, couldn't leave your spirit trapped in a bauble at the bottom of a
Hellmouth, could we?”
“And who's ‘we’?” Spike asks stepping back towards the table as the man
sips from the drink he’d set down earlier.
“Come on, Spike. You must know there's a lot of folks out there that are
interested in you. Powerfully interested, one might say….” The man says
smoothly, trying for mysterious no doubt.
Spike’s eyes narrow dangerously. Apparently no one’s told him that he
was always too impatient to read through the whole mystery book but always
ended up skipping to the end eventually.
He growls angrily and grabs the man's wrist, knocking the glass from his
hand, causing it to shatter on the floor. “Enough with the cryptic, butch. I
want to know who....” He notices then the symbols and glyphs tattooed on the
man’s forearm. “...Or what you are... what you want, and how fast I can snap
your forearm before you answer.” The menace in his voice is more than a
warning; it’s a promise that is written in his glaring gaze.
“You can call me Doyle.” The man snarls meeting his glare stare for
stare. “But it's not what I want... it's what you want.” The man grunts as
spike drops his arm with a clear disgust at being drowned in more enigmatic
bullshit. “You got your life back now. What are you gonna do about it?”
He stands and shoots the man a silent look that needs no translation.
“I’ve heard enough.” He walks towards the small dimly lit hallway that leads to
the rear exit. He’s not surprised to hear the man’s footsteps trailing after
him.
“Don't you even want to know why you came back to
“You talk a lot for somebody saying nothing.” Spike says sounding bored,
even though every atom of his being is focused on the man even as he continues
walking away.
“You've got a destiny….” The man lays his hand heavily on his shoulder.
Spike snarls at the presumption of this strange human that he would dare
to subvert his Sire by placing his hands upon him. He turns on the man calling
himself Doyle and putting his hand to his throat, violently shoves his back to
the wall with a burst of violence. “Like the destiny that Sirk said was
supposed to be at the bottom of a cup of perpetual nothing?”
“What?” The man says feigning an innocence that Spike is positive he’s *never possessed, even as a child and
shoves him against the wall a little harder. He is careful of his strength and
knows it’s enough to hurt without causing lasting harm and he smiles as the man
can’t stifle a small grunt of pain.
“If you know so much about me, you must know I get really violent when
I'm being played. It was you who were behind that stupid plan of Sirk’s to send
Angel and me on that wild goose chase.” He snarls.
He covers his surprise as he sees a faint recognition in the man’s eyes
that he wasn’t really expecting to see. He only brought up Sirk as a way to
find out just how closely the man must have been watching him, he never truly
expected there to be a connection between the two. He’s positive that the man
is working some angle of his own and decides to play along and lets uncertainty
dance across his features momentarily. As the man’s eyes narrow watchfully and
then glitter with silent pleasure he knows that he’s read the situation
completely. He doesn’t know who this man is but it is clear he doesn’t have the
best of intentions in regards to him.
“I don't know anything!” He gasps hurriedly as Spike releases him with
another small shove at the wall. “I'm just doing what they tell me.” He backs
out of range hurriedly and Spike has to stifle his chuckle. If he determines
that his man means to harm his Sire, using him or through him, than there is no
where too far for him to run that he won’t track him down and make him bleed.
"They?" He asks deliberating looking bored with the
conversation.
The man points upward. "They!" Then he reverses to let his
hand fall to his side pointing downward. "Them!" He gestures
aggravated and irritated towards him. "Bringing you back. Look, I'm just a
guy. I'm nobody. A drifter. I was minding my own business, and then one
day...." He makes a jerky pounding against the air with his fist.
"Wham! I start having these visions."
He narrows his eyes, not liking the way this conversation is going at
all. "Visions?"
The man steps closer and talks quietly, as though divulging a precious
secret. "Yeah, like brain pictures, but they hurt. Like when you eat ice
cream too fast. You start seeing people in trouble...." He pauses and
looks at Spike closely. "...Who need a champion."
"Hey, you are barking up the wrong vampire. That's Angel's
beat." Spike decides to feign disdain for Angel, as anyone that knew him
before the changes he's undergone, would have expected to see.
"Angel's not in the picture anymore. All right? He's working the
other side of the tracks. Nobody is out there helping the people that really
need help."
Spike hides his fear that there may be some truth to the man's words.
He's been very worried that the longer Angel remains in the heartland of evil
intentions that what is good in him will slowly be drawn into the very darkness
he is trying to fight. "What, so I'm supposed to jump every time you get a
vision of someone in dire peril?" He carefully makes sure that his voice
sounds both distrusting and bored but with a shade of interest. It just
wouldn't do to appear to be too interested, it might tip off the man that
something isn't right. He'll have to play along for now.
"Why do you think we're having this conversation? I had one right
before I came here. You don't have to believe me, but if a young girl gets
murdered tonight and you didn't lift a finger to stop it, ask yourself... can
you live with that?" The gleam in the man's eye is concealed quickly but
it is too late. He knows that the man believes he's hooked him into whatever
scam it is he's running. He’s going to have a lot to tell his Sire when he gets
back, that’s for sure.
Chapter Nine
Spike reaches down, grabbing the blue creature on Angel's chest, pulling
it off of him, and throws it across the room, smashing it into a wall and
killing it in a less than neat fashion. "That'll be a bitch of a
clean-up."
Angel looks up confused and in pain and blinks hurriedly trying to clear
his blurry vision. "Spike?"
Spike stands looking down at Angel apparently unconcerned, forcing his
eyes not to flick towards where he knows a miniature camera is observing his
every move. "No need to thank me. Just helping the
helpless." He has to voice his voice to sound cool and a little
arrogant, when all he wants to do is fall beside his Sire and sweep him into a
comforting embrace. He reluctantly leaves, quickly ducking around the door and
carefully edging his way back inside careful not to enter the field of view of
the stationary camera.
Angel groans weakly on the floor, his eyes tracking his Childe's
movements as he lets his eyes reflect his confusion and a little anger at
watching Spike leave. As his Precious Boy carefully makes his way back into the
room, avoiding the camera and remaining silent to fool the microphones in the
room, he is careful not to let his pride show on his face. He slumps back in a
show of weakness that isn't altogether an act and lets his arm seemingly flop
out from his body as though he were too weak to lift it. In truth it places his
arm beyond the view of the camera and he closes his eyes, feigning unconsciousness
as a gentle hand slips into his own carefully. They may not be able to talk or
be openly affectionate under the harsh oppression of the microphones and
cameras but they won't let that stop them from giving and getting what comfort
they can under the circumstances.
Wesley walks out of the bedroom, wiping his hands on a hand towel and
addressing the concerned group that have gathered in Angel’s apartment.
Expressions of concern are the order of the night.
"It was a Selminth parasite. Its teeth inject an anaesthetic,
making the host oblivious to its presence. You'd never know you had it on
you." Wesley says throwing the towel down on the coffee table as he looks
at Angel wearily sipping from a glass of blood, still looking weak and unsteady
on his feet. "It pumps neurotoxins into the body causing paralysis,
hallucinations, and fever dreams."
"It seemed...real. All of it." Angel glances up and his gaze
zeros in on Eve who is standing behind Wesley and his eyes narrow as he seems
to strain to remember something. He turns his attention to Fred. "You were
dissecting me, taking things out of me, and there was this... bear." He
glances at Lorne. "You called yourself Honky-Tonk, tried to get me to
sing, but...." He shrugs as he looks at Gunn. "You were big with the
heckling."
"Uh...sorry?" Gunn says with a slight shrug clearly not sure
just what he's apologizing *for* really but feeling compelled to do it all the
same.
Fred looks gravely concerned. "So, if this parasite continued
pumping its toxins into Angel...?"
Wesley sits down and says gravely. "He would have been stuck in a
permanent vegetative state."
Lorne looks relieved that it didn't happen. "Well, good thing Spike
swooped in and saved the day. How did he even know you were in trouble?"
Angel looks perplexed. "Didn't say."
"What I want to know is how that thing even got in here in the
first place." Gunn says angrily.
"We're checking the firm's storage facilities. It's possible that a
specimen escaped or...." Fred's voice trails off as Angel shoot a look of
laser clarity at Eve.
"You. You brought it." He says confidently.
Eve shoots him an innocently confused look that none of them believe for
a second. "Me?"
"You were here." Angel reveals looking at her fixedly as all
eyes turn to stare at her with matching expressions of suspicion.
Eve tosses her hair flirtatiously. "I had a cameo in your little
dream sequence? That's so sweet." Her voice makes it clear she's only
humouring him while leaving the distinct impression that she thinks he's simply
crazy or mistaken.
"You put the big one on me after I killed the other one."
Angel accuses.
"The other one?" Gunn says shooting a confused glance at
Wesley.
"Angel, there was only one." Wes starts to say.
Angel interrupts him with an abrupt "No."
"Maybe you were confusing reality with your hallucinations?"
Wesley reluctantly suggests.
Angel stands and looks at Eve. "Uh-uh. Changed your clothes."
Eve looks unconcerned and calmly answers. "Yeah. I do that
sometimes... after a long day."
Angel walks toward Eve, gratified to see the first hint of unease enter
her eyes. "But you didn't change your earrings. You were wearing those in
my hallucination... except... I haven't seen you for days."
"I've worn them before. Hey, I can't be held responsible for how
you dress me in your fantasies." Eve says with a smile.
Fred stands and crosses her arms confrontationally. "You did change
your clothes, Eve, and I've never seen those earrings before today." She
refutes.
"What is it exactly you think I...?" Eve asks looking
insulted.
"Don't know, Eve. But I'm pretty sure the senior partners didn't
give me the reins to their law firm just to turn me into a vegetable. Playing
your own game here? What do you think the partners'll do to you after they find
out about your little extracurricular activities?" Angel says coolly.
Eve smirks and shakes her head slightly giving them all a pitying look.
"So things aren't going your way, and you're looking for someone outside
your little circle to blame." She walks towards the elevator and hits the
call button. "Here's a thought. Maybe you should try looking
inward..." The doors open and she steps inside. "Unless you don't
like what you see." She says with a final smirk as the elevator doors close.
Angel stares angrily after Eve as the elevator whisks her away. He can
feel his friends line up supportively behind, watching with the proceedings
with suspicious eyes as Eve leaves their sight.
After several minutes Angel glances at Wesley who nods and pulls a
crystal out of his pocket and mumbles a phrase in another language. The crystal
flares brightly pulsing with crimson flashes of light for several seconds
before collapsing into dust in his palm.
"The spell is done. The cameras and microphones will only play for
them what we want them to see and hear. The spell is powerful and bound to the
bugs themselves so as long as they're in place the magic will remain active and
they won't see or hear anything that is actually going on." Wes says
proudly dusting his hand off with quick efficient motions.
"That was an excellent job Wes. You all did a marvellous job. I
think we fooled them completely." Angel says proudly and his friends beam
under the praise as he rounds the desk and falls into his chair. The door to
the conference room opens and Spike silently stalks into the room, his coat
alternately revealing and concealing his body as he moves. "You were
spectacular Childe." Angel praises as he lifts his hand in silent command.
Spike doesn't hesitate as he crosses the room and slips his hand into
the welcoming palm and laces their fingers together as he sits on the arm of
angel's chair. "Thank you, Love. I always wanted to be an actor." He
says with a wicked smile and a saucy wink of one thickly lashed eye that has
all of them chuckling.
Angel chuckles and pulls on Spike's hand until he's sprawled across his
lap in a gracefully relaxed sprawl, his knees hooked over the arm of the chair.
Spike smiles and relaxes laying his head against Angel's shoulder and
letting his eyes slip shut. It's been a long night and in his Sire's arms
tension and worry are anathema and he silently falls into a light doze.
Angel looks down at his sleepy Childe with a lovingly possessive smile
that has everyone else moving restlessly at the intimate display of the
cuddling pair. He motions to them silently and they nod and wave goodnight as
they head silently for the office doors and leave him to tenderly pick up his
now sleeping Boy. He hits the button for the elevator with his elbow and waits,
stepping inside with his precious armful as the car arrives and the doors open.
It’s been a stressful night for all of them and some sleep would certainly be
welcome and now that his Childe is where he belongs once more he knows that his
dreams will be sweet, the nightmares banished by his presence. If home is where
the heart is; like all the old songs and proverbs say; than his home is the
deceptively delicate bundle of explosive blond chaos that rests trustingly in
his arms.
It’s good to be home.
TBC
Writer’s Notes: I was going to make this be the conclusion of this story
(though not of the series) but it was getting to be too long as it is lol. I’ve
decided to cut it off here and do a part three to save your computers and your
eyes from an epic read-fest lol.
In Part Three: A familiar face turns up in LA with a surprising request
as the strange occurrences at Wolfram & Hart get even stranger and more
menacing with every passing hour. Can Angel discover what’s going on before the
mystery claims a last victim? Also the past has a way of never staying neatly
where it was and returning when you least expect it.