Part 12
Wesley glanced up to find
Spike standing at his desk. He straightened and pushed himself back slightly, attempting
to look relaxed, but suspecting he was fooling no one.
“Spike?”
The vampire lifted
distracted eyes from their intense examination of the office floor.
“Yeah, need some info and
you know a lot of stuff…”
Wesley remembered the last
time Spike had complimented him on his knowledge.
“If you’re going to ask me
if Buddha is a Silth demon…”
“Nah, nothing like that….
Buddha was a Silth?”
Wesley contained a private
smirk and Spike’s lips twitched reluctantly into a smile, acknowledging that he
had been tripped by his own flagstone. His good grace surprised the human, who
had been expecting snarkiness and profanities. But if he found the vampire
confusing and impenetrable, then the feeling was mutual. There was something
about this human Spike couldn’t quite suss.
“What do you want Spike?”
Wesley made an effort to smother their moment of camaraderie and understanding.
For a moment, he had caught something genuine, and almost understood why Angel
loved him. “Because I’m not entirely sure I’m in the mood to talk with you or
Angel until your childishness ends.”
Spike wondered how to
navigate through this, and finally decided on a certain bluntness.
“Trust us, yeah? We know
what we’re doing.” Honesty persuaded him to add, “Sort of.”
“Trust…! Oh sorry, you’re
serious.” The smile faded and Wesley slowly nodded, not convinced, but aware
that perhaps that there was more happening than met the eye. “So… you have a
question?”
“I’m researching pregnancy…”
“That begs a question….”
“Natural curiosity?”
“You’re not pregnant are
you?” Wesley was only half joking, given the weirdness that passed as their
lives.
“Sod off! I worry about you
sometimes, Percy, I really do.”
“Then what?” Wesley pushed
back his glasses. “Is this about Connor?”
“Connor? Yeah… Connor. So
how early can a baby be born without harming it?”
Wesley frowned. He didn’t
see the connection to Connor.
“I think these days,
generally from twenty-five weeks infants survive with medical attention,
steroids, etcetera. From thirty-six weeks onwards they require only the bare
minimum of medical attention.”
“So up to four weeks early
and everything’s normal?”
“I don’t understand why you
need to know this. Babies tend to come along when they’re ready.”
“Yeah, they do, don’t
them…?” Spike thought for a moment, “So how would you go about inducing
labour?”
Wesley’s frown deepened, not
comfortable with where this conversation was going.
“I wouldn’t. Nor should
you.”
“But supposing the baby was
in danger, you know, if it went full term.”
“Oh! Medical reasons.”
Wesley sighed his relief. “I believe the common drug is Pitocin. There are
other more traditional methods, however. Castor oil, nipple stimulation, sex,
black and blue cohosh…”
“Uh huh. Do they work?”
“They can help stimulate contractions,
but only if the Mother is ready to give birth.”
Wesley was curious, had had
to admit that even after all this time, he didn’t really have a handle on this
oddest of vampires.
“Oh. So Pitocin…?”
Just then, Spike caught
sight of one of Izzy’s cronies.
“It’s ok, cheers for that,
Watcher. Gotta go. Catch you later.”
Turning to the door, he
haled the demon. “Chey? Wait up a minute!”
The demon looked surprise.
“Spike?”
“Yeah. Just want to say, you
know, no hard feelings.”
He patted the demon on his
back and then turned to leave, but halted in his tracks as Chey grabbed his
arm.
“Hard feelings? About what?”
Spike shook off the hand,
saying with a frown, “Well, word is that Izzy had a ‘secret’,” Spike fingered
quotation marks around the word, “meeting with Angel…”
“He what?”
“He’s your head honcho,
ain’t he? S’pose he didn’t think it was your business to know. Anyway, he told
Angel that you lot were all rooting for him….”
“The hell we are! Course the
guy’s not out leader. What made you think that?”
“He does kinda speak for
your group, yeah?”
“Uh, kinda not! We’re all
equals you know, but there he is, pushing himself forward, pretending like he’s
the man, sticking his long nose into everyone’s business. It really pisses me
off watching him take the credit for whatever we do. Shit, we he haven’t even
discussed which candidate to favour yet.”
Chey was turning blue with
anger.
“Huh. That don’t sound very
fair. I just assumed that he made your decisions. I mean, you do tend to fade
into the background, and then what with seeing his piccy wherever I go….”
“We’re there, whoring our
backsides off to gather more souls, whilst he’s messing around with pathetic
attempts at self-publicity. It makes him feel important, but everyone else
finds it irritating and more than a little uncool. Wherever there’s an artist, there he is being
clever, tempting them and all. Everyone knows he just wants the fame of being
in their work. He’s nothing but a laughing stock!”
“Tell me about it. Did you
ever meet Angelus? Now there was one who loved grabbing the limelight. We were
the frigging Fanged Four. Worked together you know, but guess who gets the
title Scourge of Europe. Tosser.”
“And the way he sucks up to
the people in power, takes the praise and the glory, thinking he’s so goddamned
fly…” Chey was becoming ever more irate.
“That’s the way things are.
World’s divided into people who do the work and people who take the credit.”
“You talk a lot of sense,
Pal.”
“Not that you’d think it
from the way Angel goes on.”
Chey regarded him with
genuine empathy, he’d found a brother under the skin.
“Hey, don’t worry about
that, man. No one really listens to what he says anyway. Sure some people are
easily impressed by reps, but it seems to me you’ve done just as much as he
has.”
“He seems to crave the
attention, always seen that as a weakness of me Sire’s. So Izzy don’t tell you
what to do then?”
“Is that what he told Angel?
This has gone on for centuries and we’ve foolishly turned a blind eye to it,
but he has really overstepped the mark this time….” Chey’s anger was turning to
cold calculation and Spike took the opportunity to feed it a little more.
“Seems to me he’s assuming you
lot are soft. Hey, just how it looks from the outside.” Spike held up his
hands, disclaiming all responsibility for such a view. “Surprised you allow it
though, least I make the effort to show Angel the error of his ways.”
They watched from the gallery
as Angel walked across the lobby, clutching his injured hand, signs of their
fight displayed on his body.
“I’m thinking you have the
right idea my friend. Time my self-styled leader was put back in his place.”
“Yeah. Can’t just let him
walk all over you, can you, else where will it all end?”
Chey nodded his vehement
agreement, and Spike, satisfied that his job was done, decided to call it a
night. He had a meeting first thing in the morning with Vail. Reluctantly he
turned away from Angel’s private elevator and returned to his empty apartment.
Suddenly this plan seemed crap. He wanted to spend tonight with his sire. No,
with his lover, he corrected himself. He wanted to feel large hands moving over
his skin, covering him possessively….
Yeah, this was a really crap
plan.
Angel put down the report
that Mede had left for him He grudgingly admitted that it was more than fair,
so that was one little drama he could now relegate to the past.
He stared through the glass
interior of his office, watching as Spike left for the evening, knowing that he
was in for another sleepless night. He couldn’t rest these days without Spike’s
cool body curled up around him. When he was alone he had too much time to
think, and his thoughts weren’t happy.
Sometimes it was difficult
to see how they would survive the outcome of their actions against the
Circle. Even if they did, what would be
left for them? Unsatisfied longing and
need stretched endlessly before them. How long would Spike suffer that
deprivation before finding someone else? Angel’s face remained blank, but
already he was building the whole Spike leaving scenario, envisaging the
touching farewell scene: ‘Ok, I’m off. See you around, Poof.’ Leaving Angel
staring after him, doomed to face an eternity of empty days…
He sighed and wondered what
affect sleeping tablets had on vampires.
It was important he was
fresh and clear-headed for the morning. Thanks to the discussion in the bar,
Angel felt remarkably enlightened, and at least had an idea of how to approach
Senator Brucker. Before he could change his mind he had called to arrange an
appointment, and the Senator had eagerly cleared her diary for him. They were
scheduled to meet at 9.00am. Even fully alert, this would be a tough test of
his newly awakened political acumen.
Unfortunately, his
prediction proved all to true, without Spike to distract him from brooding, he
hardly closed his eyes, and appeared the following morning looking tired and
feeling irritable.
The Senator was already
waiting for him, well groomed and alert, clearly impatient for this
meeting.
He painted on a smile that
surely every politician worldwide would recognise from their mirrors, and
approached with his hand thrust out ready for the enthusiastic handshake,
carefully hiding his reaction as he caught her scent and realised she wasn’t
human. That solved the puzzle of how a
human had been accepted into the Circle, he briefly wondered what had happened
to the original Brucker.
His smile widened to camouflage
the fact that he hated her on sight.
Her bodyguard of vampires
demanded virgins' blood, his hackles rose, but he clenched the smile into place
and remained carefully bland as they began negotiating the fall of Mike
Connolly and the corresponding rise of Senator Brucker.
oooo
So here he was, back in the
basement again. Sodding basements, he was growing to hate the bleedin’ places.
Anyway, no Izzy this time. Seemed lines had already being drawn and Vail and
Izzy were on opposite sides.
Vail didn’t bother with
niceties or mince his words. “I’ve been delegated to watch you.”
Spike merely shrugged his
unconcern at this piece of information.
“A voyeur? Hope you enjoyed
the ride in the elevator.”
“The elevator?” Vail merely
nodded without interest. “I’m beyond animalistic bodily pleasures.”
“Huh. There’s a lot to be
said for bodily pleasures. So what rocks your boat?” Spike asked, without any
real interest.
Vail was thoughtful and then
indicated his trolley of fluids and tubes.
“You see this?”
“Uh huh.”
“I am not immortal, but
despite that I’ve outlived many other so-called immortals.”
He gave a thin smile,
inordinately proud that he had watched so many immortals pass from the world.
Of course, some had needed a helping hand….
“Interesting. How d’yer
manage that then?”
Cyvus was only too happy to
discuss his own ingenuity.
“I discovered a way of using
unspent life-force. Everything has a time to die; I cut the thread early and
steal the years allotted to them. They seem to find it excruciatingly painful.
If you listen carefully you can still hear their screams reverberating around
this room.”
He shivered in pleasure.
Spike merely nodded, trying to tamp down the fearful shrieks that echoed in
sympathy within his own memory.
“As they scream, their life
pours into me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, every cell explodes
with it. For some reason the youngsters have the best flavour.”
“It sounds like taking
blood.”
“Maybe you do understand,
but it’s so much more potent than blood. An average child, who may sustain you
for a few days, will keep me alive for another eighty years. Can you imagine
that sort of power coursing through your body?”
“Incredible.”
“Indeed.” Vail’s eyes were
watering at the thought.
Spike cleared his throat.
“So you were saying that you’ve been assigned to spy on me?”
Vail immediately returned to
the point of his comment with the acuity seldom seen in the very old.
“I’ve noticed your interest
in the Fell Brethren. Let’s say I’m curious.”
A nod of acknowledgement, as
though Spike had expected the topic to rear its head. “Fair enough. It’s not me who has secrets to
hide.”
The balding head tilted in
curiosity and Spike continued.
“You’re a sorcerer right? So,
tell me, when you cast your enchantments, which gods answer you?”
Vail regarded him with
ancient eyes, unfazed by the apparent change in direction.
“I am favoured by many
gods….”
“Including the Fell?”
“The god of the Fell prefers
to keep power exclusively for his followers.”
“Where will you be in
thirteen years, after Gordabach?”
“I’ve never had much
interest in religion, but I believe this is the coming of the Fell messiah
you’re speaking of?”
“Got it in one. But you’re
kind of missing the point. Have you never read the prophecy, mate?”
Cyvus merely looked,
awaiting an explanation.
“The Fell messiah will
banish all other gods from this dimension.”
Cyvus eyes narrowed. That
point had been carefully glossed over by the Brethren.
Spike continued to push it.
“How much immortality will
you have when there’s no gods to deal with? A single lifetime at the most?”
That one hit home. The
sorcerer was thoughtful as he quickly considered his options. He seemed to
reach a conclusion casting a sly sideways look towards Spike.
“You’ve killed a Chosen One
before?”
Spike was unfazed by the
question.
“Yeah, but you know how it
is for me these days, my every move watched. Gotta keep my hands clean, don’t I?
Just thought I’d give you the heads up, in appreciation of the support you gave
me the other day.”
“And I appreciate your
consideration…. I could be even more appreciative.” He licked his thin lips.
“I’m too old for subtlety, so tell me; can you make the child disappear if I
give you a few hours when no one can pry?”
“Can you make the kid’s
father well again?” Spike responded.
Cyvus waved a papery hand.
“It was magical anyway, the
Fell aren’t the most sophisticated of demons. I can break it, don’t you worry
about that, child.”
The word child held echoes
of Angelus/Angel and it dawned on Spike that Cyvus regarded him in the light of
a protégé. Family maybe….
“In that case….” Spike
nodded his agreement, his lips curling into a humourless smile.
“You’re planning on the
child being born before its time and then buying it with the same coin the
Brethren offered?” Cyvus guessed.
“More or less.”
“The child will always be
Chosen. We will never be safe unless the child dies before its thirteenth
birthday.”
“Or lives beyond it.”
“There won’t be a safe place
left for him. Where would you hide him for thirteen years?”
Spike gave a non-committal
grunt. “Yeah, but as long as I hold him alive I’ll own the Brethren. What
wouldn’t they do to guarantee his safety?”
Cyvus still looked
discontent.
“Anyway, how’s my nomination
going? Have you told them I’m a candidate?” Spike attempted to distract him.
“I have, to a mixed
reception, as anticipated.” Vail gave a shrug. “Izzy is causing ill feeling by pushing
his candidate hard. That group could be trouble. If you have their Chosen One,
you’ll hold the Brethren in the palm of your hands. I’m assuming you know the
Fell Brethren Grand Potentate is part of the Circle. In fact,” eyes narrowed to
gleaming gimlets, “I’m guessing that somehow you know most of the members.”
“Maybe I could make a couple
of educated guesses.”
Cyvus gave the laugh that
squeaked like the opening of an old, un-oiled door.
“I’m sure you could. Be
warned, however, not everyone is as trusting as I am. Some are waiting for a
gesture of ultimate evil….”
“Yeah, like what?”
Thin shoulders hunched into
s shrug, “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
Spike said nothing. That was
a sticking point and no mistake.
oooo
The atmosphere at the
W&H offices became increasingly explosive. No one would have bees surprised
if the floors had begun to heave and buckle as the powder keg they worked on
top of awaited that stray spark.
Urgent whispers in secluded
corners faded to suspicious glances at unwanted intruders. Secrets and plots
were thick in the air. Hissed arguments flashed into violence. Two of Izzy’s
colleagues were notable by their absence. Don had disappeared into thin air but
Chey turned up later that week.
Dead.
He’d been overheard
exchanging angry words with Izzy, who happened to have a cast-iron alibi for
the time of Chey’s death. Consensus of opinion stated, in the cynical tone
reminiscent of Christine Keeler: well he would, wouldn’t he?
Suddenly this was no longer an
intricate plan. It was an actual play, one that was succeeding. Angel and Spike
had kept their hands clean and still managed to get the first member killed.
Now it became dangerous for them all.
If that were the only death
that week they would have been quietly satisfied, but the following day an
overall shit week ended with a hell of a day.
It happened so suddenly. How could so much change in the course of one
terrible day?
She died.
Their girl died.
It was that sudden. Alive.
Dead. And now everything was flying apart. Knox had made the play and Gunn had
unwittingly sealed the deal.
It hit each of them hard,
pulling out the very guts of their team. Confusion, disbelief, anger warred
within them, along with the need to fix this greatest of wrongs. When all their
efforts failed, that need faded to frustration, followed by a kind of
dumbfounded acceptance.
She’d brought them so much.
Her sweet affection, wide smile, and mixture of intelligence, commonsense and
compassion that was so rare in this world. Now there was a hole in their heads,
where Fred used to live. Just a dark pit to be carefully skirted around, else
they’d tumble into the emptiness she left behind. For such a slender girl she’d
left a damned big hole.
Angel and Spike were
helpless. There was nothing left, neither bargain to be struck nor last minute
reprieve. They had failed their girl.
Gunn was guilt-ridden. There
was no atonement for this sin.
When people asked why, he
had no answer. To plead that he wanted to remain an educated man sounded
unbelievable even to his own ears. Half a dozen years of hard work would have
seen him educated. But no, he went for the swipe of the pen approach and proved
its lethal power once again. His signature on a single piece of paper traded
those six years for everything that had made up Fred. He could have pleaded
that he didn’t know, didn’t understand, but that was crap. He’d known it would
be someone. Someone who deserved better than this betrayal for his own
intellectual vanity. If he ever heard another Gilbert and Sullivan it would be
too soon, he despised every false memory.
Wesley had been with her as
she faded, speaking words of love and comfort. She knew she was dying and
fought against it bitterly. It was a battle she was destined to lose. He held
her and wept with her, as her fevered body, heated and then slowly cooled. Her
coldness leeched all human warmth from him, leaving a cavernous wasteland of
glittering icicles, cruel and sharp and cutting, in the place that had once
flowered in the warmth of her smile and beat to the rhythm of life.
She’d filled his mind almost
entirely. The absence of her left him hollowed out and profoundly empty.
Empty-eyed, empty-hearted, empty-souled. More of a ghost than Spike had ever
been.
Then there was
He looked rough, with his
unshaven jaw and the feverish eyes of a driven man.
He couldn’t stop searching for
an answer. If only he just looked hard enough, long enough, in the right place,
in the wrong place, then the next book, the next spell would have him snapping
his fingers and saying, “I’ve got it!” She would be back by his side with her
laughing eyes and razor intelligence, loving him once more.
The more he learnt about
what had occurred, the more he despaired. Hope was packing its bags and leaving
town. Yet he couldn’t stop searching, knew he would continue searching for the
answer for the rest of his life.
Spike looked up as he
entered and recognised the haunted eyes. It recalled memories of Red after she
had lost Glinda…. Yeah,
“Wes… Mate….”
“Spike. I’ve changed my
mind. Who am I to deny anyone whatever chance of happiness they might have? And
if it goes wrong, well at least you know you tried.”
Spike frowned.
“Uh. Got me at a loss,
Percy. What yer talking about?”
“Angel and his soul.”
Spike regarded him intently.
A thread of worry drew a line between his eyebrows.
“You said it was too
dangerous. That there was a chance that Angelus might return….”
“The plan is dependent on
him returning.”
Spike’s jaw fell open as he
gaped in shock.
“Bloody hell! Are you
completely addled? You’ve met him, ain’t yer?”
“Yes, of course I have, and
maybe I am a little crazy. I think you have to be to live in this world.”
“Supposing he tries to kill
you all, or drags the world into hell?”
“There is that,” Wesley
answered, straightening his glasses. “I’m allowing you this information
because, frankly? I’m not sure if I even care anymore. One day you might have
to join me, watching the shell of the person you love. Perhaps I don’t want to help you. Maybe it’s
punishment for allowing her to die.”
Spike blinked.
“We didn’t…”
“She’s dead, isn’t she?”
He felt his culpability
deeply, whilst acknowledging that there was nothing else he could have done.
“To save her would have
meant we slaughtered thousands. What the fuck were we supposed to do?”
His anguished voice pleaded
for the human to understand, but Wesley’s eyes remained cold.
“And if it had been Angel
and not her?”
“I’d have made the same
choice,” Spike replied. However, he wasn’t altogether sure if that was true,
maybe he’d damn the world to hell before allowing Angel to leave him again, and
he sent up a prayer to whoever listened to ensouled vampires to save him from
ever making such a decision.
“So, Angel…. What do I have
to do?”
“It’s easy really. Give him perfect happiness and bring back
Angelus.”
“I hope there’s a bit more
to the plan than that. It seems a little short on results.”
“I never got the chance to
work out the details, but my thought was that happiness depends on the
perceptions of the person doing the re-souling spell. The gypsies and
“Would it work?”
“I believe so. The first time
he lost his soul by making love to the girl of his dreams. The second time,
when the shaman gave him his false moment of perfect happiness, the rules had
subtly changed. He saved the world, became reconciled with all his friends and
family, as well as making love with someone he cared for. Because it was no
longer a gypsy curse, it was
“How will I get someone evil
to re-soul Angelus?”
“I’ve given you the broad
outline. It’s up to you what you do with it.”
“I won’t be able to tell
Angel. Angelus would have to think I wanted him back. Even so, he still might
kill me.”
“Yes, it’s a definite
possibility. I’ll leave it in your hands.”
“Bugger you, Watcher! Why
the hell did you have to tell me?”
“To give you a chance I’m
never going to have,” he replied with quiet dignity, and left Spike alone with
his dilemma.
The more Spike thought about
it, the more unworkable it became. Hell,
how was he supposed to give Angel perfection? He’d have to be reconciled with
his friends, feel like he was winning the fight against evil and then finally
the small point of actually loving Spike enough to reach the final high. Then
if he did achieve all this, he would have the equally impossible task of
dealing with Angelus. Whichever way he
turned it, it was impossible. Not only impossible, but probably one of the most
dangerous, riskiest gambles he’d ever attempted.
Although, that wouldn’t
necessarily have daunted him, he was never one to turn down a challenge.
Nevertheless, one consideration far outweighed everything else. It would mean
betraying Angel. It was one thing to knock him out for a few minutes, but this
would be unforgivable, and frankly, he couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it, not even
to give Angel his most wished for desire.
But a tiny part of his brain
called him on his decision and mocked his altruism, suggesting the reason he
refused was that Angel would then have his choice of lovers and the world and
his dog knew that in this situation Spike would be very far from his first
choice.
Yet he couldn’t stop
thinking about Wesley’s theory.
It seemed to him that there
was an almighty flaw in it. The
Ah well. Since he wasn’t
going to do it anyway, he guessed it wasn’t worth worrying about.
oooo
Izzy’s eyes gleamed with
approval.
“A little birdie has told me
you arranged the death of the girl, one of your own. The Circle is impressed.”
“Huh. Guess we have a
talkative little bird. It told me you had a hand in the death of Chey and the
disappearance of Don.…”
“Touché. I take your point
and one doesn’t like to boast….” Izzy’s grin hid his anxiety, if the Circle
believed he had killed them then there would be repercussions. He shivered
slightly, who would believe his innocence when he sometimes doubted it himself?
Someone was setting him up, but for what exactly?
“Come with me you might be
interested in this. It spells the end of all your problems. Well, one little
problem in particular.”
Angel followed curiously, as
Izzy sprang up the stairs. They leant together on the chrome balustrade. Angel
started fidgeting, Spike would be due in soon and he wanted to be able to watch
him from the privacy of his office. Eventually his restlessness won out.
“Ok. I’ve played this game,
whatever it is, but now I have work to do.”
“Hush. Here he is.” Izzy’s
eyes were bright, his tongue almost lolling out of his mouth with anticipation.
Angel watched as Spike
pushed through the doors and swept in. His guts clenched with anxiety.
“What? What have you done?”
His voice was almost lost in fear, emerging in a low whisper.
Spike was directly beneath
them.
“See that man over there?”
He pointed out a small, plump man who was sweating profusely as he approached
Spike. “Watch him carefully. He didn’t need much persuading, I can tell you.
Seems he was next in line for the Special Projects post, before it was given to
the upstart.”
Angel’s fear only increased,
he could have sworn he heard echoes of his dead heart pounding in his ears.
Izzy didn’t notice Angel’s
reaction and blithely continued, “Remember that poison that nearly killed you a
few years back?”
The poison? Spike was going
to be poisoned?
However, the man had passed
him, and Angel began to relax, seemed the guy had lost his bottle. Then he noticed
Izzy straining forward, eyes intent on the scene below. He also returned his gaze to the unfolding
tableau and realised that the man had immediately turned, a small pipe raised
to his lips. He was within feet of Spike, he couldn’t miss.
Angel reacted quickly,
grabbing Izzy and jumping, landing between Spike and the man.
Izzy stumbled and fell,
Spike went reeling and the man allowed the emptied blowpipe to drop from his
lips. Angel’s fist smashed into the side of his smug, fat head. The punch flung
the man backwards and he landed like a dead weight against the far wall.
Spike was lying motionless
on the floor and Izzy was shouting something.
Angel had seen Spike injured
before, but before he had been his childe, now he was his lover. And that made
all the difference in the world.
This poison meant death,
he’d tasted it himself and he could taste it again, like ashes in his mouth.
His blood was curdling and his soul shrinking away in fear.
Perception faded to a
pinpoint, he heard and saw nothing except Spike. Every sense was focused on the
body lying on the tiled ground. He was in a bubble of his own where all that
existed was Spike and the hollow roar in his ears. In slow motion, he walked
towards the prone figure and the whole world waited the next moments with
baited breath.
“Spike?”
(An echo sounded through the
years, a girl’s voice…. “
He wasn’t dust. He was still
alive. He searched for hope in the situation.
He could beat this poison.
It just needed slayer’s blood. Buffy would fly in for him. Buffy was too far
away. There were other slayers. But none would voluntarily give blood to a
vampire. He would kidnap one. They were strong and well organised. They’d
probably stake him. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad….
So his brain skittered over
the problem as he took his steps towards Spike.
There was blood staining the
pristine white of his shirt.
(“Your shirt…”)
Angel knelt next to him,
cradling his head in his lap, stroking his brow.
“Spike? William? Stay with me,
stay with me Will. Please…”
(“
Angel’s hand withdrew from
the back of Spike’s neck. It was red with blood. He stared at it, almost with
incomprehension. Angel could see no way out. He could almost feel the pain of
the poison moving like red heat through his own veins.
He gently laid Spike back
down and turned to the people who watched. Words were beginning to penetrate
his brain. “Assassination” was being whispered around the building and bouncing
off the walls. It was threaded through with grief, fear, triumph. His eyes
flecked with gold, as he turned to Izzy who was watching from the floor, his
leg twisted under him, unable to move as Angel stalked towards him.
“He was my childe. You
understand that. Mine.” Angel’s words were almost conversational, his face was
death.
“What… what are you doing?”
Izzy whispered, his brow furrowed and blank eyes sparked with fear.
“Hush.” Angel whispered and
crouched next to him.
(He was babbling in fear.
“Shhh,” her voice soothed, but her eyes were black.)
“I’m sorry… just … no!
Please.” Izzy’s voice rose as he recognised the icy gaze of death.
(
Then Izzy moved a hand and
revealed the small black feathered dart on the side of his face. Maybe in all
the commotion he hadn’t registered it was there.
Angel stared hardly daring
to believe.
“So tell me, what affect
would the poison have on you? The same as on Spike? Answer me.”
Izzy was gazing in fear. Why
weren’t the Circle, the Senior Partners stopping this fiasco? The answer came
to him; he was being retired.
“Similar but it works more
slowly,” he answered in a deadened voice.
“Would you find it painful?”
Izzy nodded.
“Good.”
“Why? Why!” Izzy slowly
brought his hand back to the sting in his cheek and plucked away the dart. Then
he began screaming.
Angel looked around at the
gathered faces.
“I want held him locked next
to Pavaynne and held there until the poison kills him. I want real time
pictures of his face displayed on all monitors. Someone see to it.”
There was a murmured
reaction, carefully muted; eyes that refused to linger on Angel for fear his
wrath would turn on them.
Spike lay unconscious,
knocked flying by their arrival. Angel realised that the blood was probably
from where he’d crashed to the floor, cracking his head on the hard marble.
Angel picked him up and
looked down at the stark print of his hand on the floor, inked red with his
childe’s blood. They had tried to kill his childe. The thought froze him to the
marrow; he could feel the ice crackling through his body as though a finger of
frost was following the track of his veins
“When this mess is cleaned
up I want that handprint left.” He looked around. “Do you all understand?”
They understood. The screaming image of Izzy and the bloody
print were to be macabre reminders that interfering with Angel and his childe
carried its risks.
“Boss?” Harmony approached
cautiously. “What do you want me to do with him?”
Angel looked towards the
unconscious man. Nothing more than a tool, like the dart the man had attempted
to use to send Spike into an agonising death. Angel shuddered. So close. So
fragile. Happiness was so damned fragile. He stared at the human who had tried
to take away his only light in this grim world.
(“It ripped her insides out
... took her light away. From me. From the world.”)
“Put him in a holding cell
until I’m ready to deal with him.”
Harmony displayed her efficiency
by lugging the man over her shoulder and dealing with the matter personally.
(
oooo
Spike was stirring.
“What the fuck just
happened?” he muttered, one hand moving to his bloodied head.
“Izzy tried to have you
killed.”
Angel sounded remote and
unlike his usual self. Spike remembered being knocked from behind, sprawling to
the floor and then nothing.
“Huh. Guess that’s good in a
way. The plan….” He stopped suddenly realising his tongue was moving on without
his brain.
“It’s alright. The plan
kinda got blown out of the water just now. I jumped the balcony trying to reach
you. Knocked out a human and Izzy is kind of busy with the dying.”
Spike looked in query.
“Seemed like I missed a
pretty neat party.”
“I lost it and claimed you
in front of everyone. The plan is dead. They all know that you’re the only
thing that matters to me.”
That seemed to come as news to
Spike.
“You know that don’t you?”
Angel frowned.
Spike knew it was the shock
of the near miss speaking and turned his head away. “You were about to leave
me….”
“I was?”
That seemed to come as news
to Angel.
“You said that it ain’t
working between us.”
“I did?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“If I knew what you were
talking about I’d deny it. I remember telling you that I loved you. You know
how many people I’ve said that to? Two.”
“The other was Buffy?”
Angel nodded.
“You left her.” Spike felt
satisfied that his point had been proven.
“That was different. She was
sunshine and blue skies. Shit! I never belonged there! I belong to darkness and
shadows. I belong with you. You make it bearable. Fuck Will! Some days you make
it feel like sunshine.”
Spike blinked in disbelief.
“After we kind of shagged,
you said it wasn’t gonna work….”
“I said the curse was too
close and having sex wasn’t going to be possible!”
“You did?”
“Is that why you were so
upset about Nina? You thought it was over?”
Spike said nothing and that
was all the answer that Angel needed.
“It will never be over
between us. You hear? There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me
leave you. You can walk away, you can fucking burn up and die and it’ll still
never be over between us!”
This brought back the
previous half hour to Angel’s mind.
“I thought you were gone.”
His voice tailed off as he relived those minutes. “I thought you were gone and
I’d have given the world to hold you one more time. Given my life, my soul to
see your eyes open. Why didn’t you know how much I cared?”
Suddenly Angel’s arms were
wrapped gently around him, face buried in his neck.
Spike blinked again, trying
to understand this sudden turnabout, and slowly one hand came to rest against
Angel’s back
“Hey… hush, Pet. I’m here.
I’m here, Luv.”
“Stay here with me tonight.
I need to have you near, I need to hold you. I got it so wrong. Give me a
chance to show you how much I care?”
“The curse….”
“I don’t mean sex. I guess
I’m talking about love.”
“I dunno….” Spike was
confused. He’d never been the recipient of love, no strings attached. Well, not
since his Mum….
“Just lay with me, let me
tell you all the ways I love you. All the ways you’re beautiful,” Angel
whispered.
Spike started to smile.
“You sure? You don’t do the
talking thing very well, Pet.”
“Then I’ll learn. I nearly
lost you and you’d never have known how I felt. If I lose you tomorrow then I’m
making sure you know that you’re the most precious thing in this damned world.”
He pulled Spike close.
Intimate words fell between
them like sweet rain, soaked up and swallowed as it flooded through desperately
parched wasteland, bringing life to the needy desert, and something precious
sprang into existence. Next to Love grew Trust, as strong as the English oak,
and in its branches, Belief began to entwine itself.
The words might never be
repeated again, but it didn’t matter because Spike would remember them for his
remaining days.
(She yearned to see her
lover one more time, ached to tell her all the truths she had never shared, to
hold her the whole night.
Angel fell asleep with his
lover cradled within the protective circle of his arms. His soul mate who he
thought was lost.
Jerked into wakefulness by
Angel’s restlessness, Spike laid a
hand on his shoulder. He appeared to be in pain.
Angel opened his eyes wide
and his agony curled in the darkness.
“Spike…!”
His eyes squeezed shut as
though trying to fight some internal demon.
Spike could only watch in horror. He
left the room, leant against a wall and slowly
slid to the floor, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. He shook his head
in disbelief and reached for his phone.
When he returned Angel was still
in the bed, his face scrunched in pain. His hands were clenching
at the
bars of the headboard, muscles straining and frozen in rictus, as his body arched and spasmed.
Spike sat in the chair in
the corner of the room and watched. He lit up a cigarette and could only wait.
Angel appeared to see him
and stared at him piteously from darkened eyes. Spike wanted to help him, or
that being impossible, just wanted to close his eyes to the agony, but instead
his gaze remained steady. He forced himself to watch all that his sire was
going through, whilst kaleidoscope thoughts
gradually resolved into clarity.
He thought about the curse, considered
He now knew more than words,
how much Angel cared, and was humbled that he could ever be Angel’s perfection. Spike felt his body ripping with grief and rage,
needing to scream out in protest at this turn of events, cursing his sire’s taciturn nature and his own lack of faith, but refusing to
give in, knowing he had to stay strong for Angel’s sake.
Because it was too late. All
choice had been taken from him and he was lost between grief, rage and a
fluttering in his stomach that might have been anticipation.
Brown eyes opened and even
in the darkness, they gleamed with joy.
“Angelus.”
Attention swivelled to the
seated figure of his Childe.
“Will,” he smiled.