"Welcome, lower being." a female voice greeted from somewhere nearby. Spike stared for a moment at the two figures standing before him, both clothed in robes, their bronzed bodies decorated with strange blue patterns. He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, the pillars to either side of the duo standing before him, the unearthly quality of the scenery, feeling as though he'd just stepped into some alternate dimension.
"Who are you and where are we?" he asked, staying put, and keeping his voice neutral. His body tensed instinctively, unsure if he should be excepting an attack or not, but until he had a better idea of what he was up against, he refrained from lashing out blindly. As much as he hated waiting around for someone else to make the first move, he was getting the distinct impression that he was way out of his league with these two seemingly passive beings.
"Irrelevant." the male stated simply.
"You have been chosen, and the time will soon come when you will have to choose whether to accept this, or reject it." the female continued on.
The whole conversation was passing completely over Spike's head as he struggled between trying to understand the implications and figuring out how it was that he'd wound up here in the first place. He frowned, recalling briefly the sensation of burning that had engulfed his entire being just before he'd... he looked around with renewed curiosity. If this was Hell, it wasn't looking so bad...
The female nodded her head at him then, and before he could get a single word in, a small, folded piece of paper appeared in front of him, hanging suspended in the air in front of his nose.
"When the time is come, you will know. Until then, prepare." the male informed him, as if the meaning of his words and the entire preceding conversation had been perfectly clear. "But be warned, you will be presented with only one opportunity. Choose wisely." the female added, as both figures turned to leave, the male waving his arm in an almost bored fashion.
Frowning Spike reached out and retrieved the levitated paper, glancing curiously it. He was about to ask what he was supposed to do with it when he suddenly realized that they were no longer there. Or, more acurately, he was no longer there - wherever there had been. Instead, he found himself lying on his back, gazing up into the tear-stained face of an angel. He grinned with amusement, someone somewhere must've screwed up big time if they'd sent him to heaven...
"Spike! You're okay!" the angel exclaimed with relief, giving him a tight squeeze. He chuckled, completely clueless as to why his angel was so relieved with this news. Catching a brief whiff of her scent as she bent forwards crying into his chest, he wondered why she smelled so familiar... "You stupid, vampire idiot!" the now annoyed voice screamed at him, her words muffled slightly by her proximity to him. He frowned, angels weren't supposed to get mad like that, were they? "You better keep your word, or I am so gonna enjoy staking your pathetic butt!" she continued, pounding her fists on him.
That voice... those words... with a yelp, Spike shot to his feet and looked around. The sun - there was sun - he looked down and patted himself down incredulously - sun plus vampire equalled dust - if he was dust, he shouldn't be feeling panic, he shouldn't be feeling confusion - he shouldn't be feeling anything...
He was tackled back down to the ground before his mind could even finish piecing together what had happened - what was* happening, and small, powerful blows began raining down upon him. "I hate you! I so hate you!" Buffy screamed angrily, her blows quickly losing strength as another sob escaped, "Don't you ever even think of pulling a stunt like that again!" On whim Spike chose not to think about, he found himself wrapping his arms around her, and holding her to him firmly, as the memories of what had just transpired between them hit him full force. Had he imagined hearing the Slayer admit to lo- to having non- hate feelings for him? From her reaction just now he'd have to say no, but realistically...
Sitting them up, and pulling them back to their feet, Spike half-led, half-carried the young body in his arms back towards the mansion. His memories regarding what exactly had transpired between them just before he'd passed out may have been a little foggy, but he did remember promising to stay and continue helping her friends if he hadn't combusted by sunrise. -And he was definitely not a cloud of dissipating ash and dust... not yet anyway.
Idly, he wondered if the Slayer had known he wouldn't burn, if she'd tricked him somehow into making a promise he might not have otherwise made. In the end though, it didn't really matter, she'd taken the choice from him by forcing him into this deal - and he really needed some time to figure out where he wanted to go from here.
He'd keep his word, stay with the little slaying group, get his thoughts and emotions straightened out, then... then, he'd have some decisions to make. But for now, both he and Buffy needed some rest from the physical and emotional ordeal they'd just gotten through.
Willow stopped outside the closed door to the room she shared with Buffy and silently crossed her fingers and whispered a hopeful prayer to the goddess. No need to panic - so Buffy hadn't made it back to Giles' last night - maybe she'd run into a few vamps on the way back, gotten scuffed up a bit, and needed to return here for a change - yeah, and it was already getting late, plus given the bile incident, the blond Slayer had been forced to live in the same clothes for over twenty-four hours; she'd probably gone straight for the shower, then changed, then flopped down on the bed exhausted. -Oh, and in all the excitement, she'd fallen asleep and forgotten to call Giles to let everyone know that she was still alive and healthy. Yeah.
Hand around the doorknob, Willow paused again, the conviction of her mental pep talk dwindling as she realized that she wasn't feeling any recent traces of her friend's presence.
Swallowing hard, she turned the handle and pushed the door open, her eyes closed. Buffy was here, she was sleeping in because of how tired she was, in fact she was in those fluffy bunny pajamas, lying on her back, one arm tossed over her eyes, the alarm clock in itsy-bitsy tiny pieces scattered on the floor -
Willow opened her eyes slowly, willing the image in her mind to greet her reluctant gaze and solidify itself into a reality.
The room was empty.
An all too familiar knot of fear and dread settled itself in the pit of the wicca's stomach.
Both beds were made, both appearing unslept in, the alarm clock was right where it was supposed to be - and in one piece, Buffy's side of the room looked completely untouched...
That was okay... everything was still okay... Buffy had just gotten up and left already - in fact the two young women had probably crossed paths; Willow heading for the campus, as Buffy was heading for Giles. In fact, realizing that her friends were probably beginning to worry, Buffy probably hadn't even changed, she'd just jumped out of bed - er, made the bed - then run out real fast...
Biting her lip, Willow slumped over onto the edge of her bed, her mind turning over one rationalization after the other; Buffy, after all, was not dead. She couldn't be dead. She was the unstoppable, unbeatable, undefeatable, Slaymaster.
The phone rang, it's loud shrill in the silent room startling Willow out of her thoughts, and sending her stomach lurching up to her chest. Oh good, Buffy was calling to let everyone know how cool everything still was.
"Buffy?" Willow answered immediately after the first ring. Some typically whackey hellmouth occurrence had cropped up last night - Buffy was calling from a motel, or-or another dimension she'd been shunted over to...
"Um, it's Amy." the voice on the other end corrected with soft, uncomfortable reluctance.
*Uh oh, not a good tone of voice there*, Willow recognized immediately, a silent mantra starting up in her head *Don't give me bad news, can't handle bad news right now...* "Sorry," Willow murmured, fighting to keep the disappointment from her voice, "So what's up?" 8Please don't tell me bad news about Buffy, please don't tell me bad news about Buffy...*
Amy and Tara had agreed to do a quick walk-through of the park, when Giles suggested that Willow try the dorm as morning came with still no word from their Slayer. The sudden mild earthshaking that had rumbled in the early pre-dawn morning hadn't done much to appease anyone's fears either. But the Earth was still turning, the sky was still blue, the sun was still shining, and no gigantic hellmouth beast was breathing fire or slime all over the town, so the group had hoped for the best and set out.
"It's about Buffy..." the other witch started, Willow closed her eyes, *She's *not* dead, she's *not* dead...* "Now, we didn't find her... you know... body - but we did find her knife." There was a brief pause as Willow let the words sink in. *No body.* No body meant that Buffy was still alive - cause baddies who kidnapped the Slayer always died, and Buffy always came back...
"Oh." Willow intoned, trying rally her optimism, "Well that's good then. That you didn't find a body. That means our Buffster is probably kicking the gajeebers out of some evil, nasty demon."
"Yeah." Amy agreed, unconvinced.
"Right. So I'll just head back so we can... figure out what to do next." Willow decided, saying her goodbyes and hanging up. Things were still good, Buffy was still maybe- alive...
Besides, Xander hadn't called in yet, and he and Anya had gone to check out the Hellmouth itself. They'd probably find nothing but a bunch of dead demons, and Buffy holding a mini-party for her success in stopping yet another catastrophe... cause, obviously something hellmouthy had happened last night - but everything was still good today so that could only mean success. Yep, the forces of good had another notch to add to their growing collection, and Buffy was still just fine and dandy.
Feeling slightly mollified, Willow left the room, closing the door behind her as she pushed the all too familiar feelings of worry and dread for her friend's safety to the back of her mind.
It seemed as if the longer her friend defied the odds, the quicker she was to jump to depressing conclusions in the face of uncertainty. How much longer did Buffy really have, after all? At twenty-two she was really pushing the Slayer envelope... *No. No negative thoughts. Buffy's fine. Buffy's alive. Buffy's a survivor...*
Angel stared silently at his bed, hesitating for one brief moment before giving in to his weariness and slipping under the covers. He'd pulled Wesley aside before making his way back down here, not wanting to cause Cordelia undo alarm, and had tried explaining the strange episode he'd just experienced. Wesley had promised to look into the cause of death, and identity, of the body Angel had stumbled across in the alley, leaving Angel to return to bed.
Closing his eyes and rolling onto his side, an image of the unfamiliar young woman flashed through his mind yet again. He was dancing with her, seductively suggesting they go someplace quieter, slowly leading her towards the side exit. She favoured him with a seductive grin of her own as she allowed herself to be led into the cooler, crisp night air, immediately finding his lips with hers as the door clicked shut behind them.
He ran his hands through her shoulder-length locks, then grabbed a firm hold of her head, a lust of a completely different nature taking over as he drew away from her lips and lowered his head to the delicate length of her neck.
She moaned against him at first as he gnawed on her skin with his blunt teeth, slowly turning them around until she was trapped between his body and the side wall of the building. Then she tensed in his arms as he let his fangs descend...
Angel's eyes flew open as he scrambled to sit up. That couldn't have happened... the demon couldn't possibly have gotten loose - taken control like that... it just wasn't possible, and yet...
Lying back down, he closed his eyes once again, needing to know for certain what had happened. Her blood was filling his mouth, the glorious taste of the long denied sustenance causing him to barely notice her weak and useless struggles against him. But the satisfaction of the feeding began dissipating even as he swallowed his first mouthful - a feeling of silent horror and guilt replacing it and causing him to pull away in disgust.
Confusion flooded through him as he watched himself fling the injured mortal across the alley and into the wall of the neighbouring building. His vision vision was gradually becoming more blurred and dim. From the corner of his eye he saw movement coming from deeper down the darkened alley, his brain instantly telling him that there were other vampires nearby. His vision was failing fast though, and without a second glance at the terrified figure frozen in place against the far wall, desperately clutching her wounded neck, he turned his back on her and re-entered the bar, barely making it to the nearest stool before everything went completely black.
Frowning, as he forced himself to replay that last scene over again, Angel realized something else suddenly... his demon wasn't there, rubbing in his face his loss of control and attack on that innocent, unsuspecting mortal... in fact his demon had been uncharacteristically silent and... dormant... ever since Angel had left that bar several hours ago.
That in itself was suspicious, especially since Angel could usually feel it fighting against him, just under the surface, constantly urging and tempting him to just give in to the darker calling of his nature.
As if on cue he felt his demon rear against him, reminding him all too vividly of the sensuous taste of the young woman's blood. No matter what he tried convincing himself of, pig's blood - animal blood - just wasn't the same. Aside from being cold and lifeless, it lacked that sweet tinge of terror and adrenalin that fresh human blood held. It denied him of the violence, the resistence, the fear and the death that accompanied the overpowering of a delectable human prey...
Pushing the familiar taunts and cravings from his mind, he finally succumbed to sleep, hoping that this time he'd wake up in bed, and not a couple blocks away with no memory of how he'd gotten there.
Buffy blinked her eyes open and stared at the intense blue eyes focused on her. With a small yelp of surprise, she tried jerking herself away from the body she was pressed lightly against, only to feel herself being rather securely held in place by a strong arm wrapped around her waist, and an equally strong hand pressed flat against the small of her back.
"Spike..." she warned, trying to ignore the pleasant tingles working their way through her body. Then the memories of the last few hours before she'd succumbed to sleep replayed themselves through her mind with vivid clarity.
She bit her lip as she recalled voicing a confession she'd previously vowed never to acknowledge. Did Spike even remember? She searched his eyes with hers, trying to read him, trying to determine if their somewhat intimate positioning was accidental or not, if it was teasing or not.
"Was this a one night stand for us, pet?" Spike's teasing voice filtered through to her as she blinked herself out of her stare. He remembered - at least partially - but was giving her an easy out. Giving them both an easy out.
"I don't do one night stands." she heard herself answer lightly, before leaning forwards to give him a soft peck on the cheek. It wasn't a clear answer to his question, she knew, her voice returning the light tease, her kiss however detracting from the attempt at waving the previous night off. Pretending the words had never slipped out of her mouth wasn't the answer, but dealing with their full implications wasn't exactly foremost on her mind either. What she really needed right now was time. Time to sort out the conflicting emotions that had been doing nothing but building over the last four years she'd worked with Spike.
He nodded at her words and released her, his eyes briefly reflecting confusion, then rolled onto his back on the bed they were sharing and threw his right arm over his eyes. "You might want to call your mates and let them know you're still alive." he murmured, his voice betraying no emotion one way or the other.
The tension between them was almost palpable, and Buffy inwardly groaned at the discomfort of the situation. They definitely had some issues to sort out, but - glancing at her watch, she bolted from the bed in a panic.
"Where's the phone in this place?" she asked frantically, searching the room they were in to no avail. It was nearly 10:00 am, and she still hadn't called anyone to let them know she was alright!
"There's a cell in my duster." Spike's voice answered, unmoving, "Right side."
Nodding, Buffy searched the room, her eyes landing on the said article of clothing which was draped over the back of a chair. She quickly reached for it and jumped back down onto the bed, upturning the correct pocket and watching its contents spill out onto the mattress.
A few loose cigarettes fell out, as well as a handful of loose change, an assortment of monetary bills of various denominations, one small folded piece of paper, and the trusty cell phone. She reached for the phone instantly, powering it up and dialling Giles' number.
He picked up on the first ring, "Xander?" his anxious voice asked.
Buffy grinned slightly, buzzing an error tone, "Wrong. You do not win the grand prize. The correct answer was..."
"-Buffy!" Giles interrupted, his relief evident despite his slight exasperation, "Thank goodness, we've been searching everywhere for you. Are you all right? What happened?"
Shaking her head as she absently reached down to count the cash in front of her Buffy sighed tiredly, "It's a long story. Way long. Let's just say the big evil was thwarted and everyone lives happily ever after." she joked half-heartedly, flinching slightly as Spike's left hand reached out to grab her wrist before she could touch the money. "I promise I'll give you all the details later, but right now I'm totally drained - tired, that is - Mr. Pillow invited me for a sleep-over and this is one date I am *not* missing." She glanced suspiciously over at the vampire, who was still lying there with his arm over his eyes, wondering if he was peeking under that arm.
"Er, right..." Giles hesitated, she grinned almost able to see the look of confusion on his face at her declaration. "-and where exactly is this... 'sleep-over'?"
Watching with amusement and curiosity as the peroxide blonde began single handedly returning his cash to his jacket pocket with his left hand, Buffy answered somewhat distractedly, "Oh, the mansion on Crawford street." He still hadn't moved a muscle, other than the hand and arm re-filling his pocket.
"I see..." Giles paused, his tone indicating he did not in fact see or understand why she was there, but was willing to wait, albeit reluctantly, until she was ready to explain later. "-and you're sure you're alright?"
"Yeppers. Good as gold, healthy as a horse..." she quickly snatched up the folded scrap of paper before Spike's searching hand could close around it. "I also found our missing mascot - he's here with me too." Buffy added on impulse, remembering why it was she'd gone out last night in the first place. "We'll both come by later on after we catch up on some much needed beauty rest."
Unfolding the paper, Buffy frowned. It was completely blank. Shrugging to herself as she stifled a yawn, she quietly replaced it into his pocket as well, Spike's previously active arm now limp.
"And Spike, I trust, is also... well?" Giles was asking on the other end. Buffy couldn't stop the small smile forming on her lips. Giles genuinely cared - no matter how hard any of them tried denying it - even Spike himself - they'd all started caring about each other.
"He's just fine. Sleeping like a baby as we speak." Buffy giggled as Spike silently lifted his left hand and flicked her off. She carefully ignored the fact that he was no longer the violence-curbed vampire the group had come to know and trust, and the fact that he hadn't exactly confirmed his intent to stay with them on a strictly helpful basis. "Anyways, I really gotta go, or I'm gonna pass out on you right here and now." This time she didn't bother trying to fight the yawn that spilt from her lips.
"Very well. I'll let the others know that you're safe, and we'll expect you by later this evening?" Giles confirmed.
"Sounds like a plan." Buffy agreed, before saying goodbye and hanging up. She tucked the phone back into Spike's pocket, then tossed the duster back onto the chair where it landed in a heap on the seat.
"I don't think that's how you found it, luv." Spike reprimanded, still not moving.
"Bite me." Buffy mumbled out of habit as she fell back onto the bed and closed her eyes. He was on top of her before she even realized he'd moved, amber eyes staring down at her.
"I just might." he growled, the suddenly playful tone in his voice the only thing keeping her from throwing him off.
She swallowed heavily and plastered a look of fright on her face, diligently ignoring the small tingle of lust working its way through her at his light threat and proximity. "Oh no! Please don't!" she begged sarcastically, her eyes wide with mock fear, "Whatever shall I do? The big bad vampire is threatening t-"
He cut her off with a sudden kiss to her lips. It was a light one, a gentle one, a short one, a completely non-threatening, almost casual one in fact. It was one that sent those tingles straight down to the tips of her toes.
"Shut up and get some sleep, Slayer." he suggested through his fangs, a small smirk on his lips.
She gulped and nodded, her brain frozen by his act, and he rolled back off of her and onto his side, his back facing her as he also stilled and fell silent.
After several minutes of silence had passed, she glanced over at him with confusion. Okay yes, she'd given him a similar peck on his cheek earlier, but *on his cheek* seemed to be the key words there. Inwardly groaning, she realized that whatever relationship they'd had between them before was definitely not going to work anymore.
They teased each other, argued with each other, they'd even found new ways of fighting with each other, but there had always been those unspoken boundaries - the knowledge of how far they could go, how far they could push. Granted, secretly, he might have been harbouring some ultimate intent to kill her, but they had always known where those boundaries were. They had always known that the teasing, in the end, meant nothing.
Now... Buffy shook her head as she closed her eyes, now, she had no idea where they stood with each other. A simple, playful, friendly peck was churning emotions that had never before been inspired by such an act. Boy oh boy, did she have issues she needed to sort out - and soon.
Spike had been naughty. Spike had hurt her! Spike had helped that wretched Slayer. Again!
But it didn't matter, he would be punished - and she and Angel would do it together. Her eyes fell shut as she imagined all the painful things her Angel would do to Spike - then maybe her Angel would reward her for being such a good girl and let her play too. Oh, the things she could do to him - she knew how to give Spike the most pleasure from all the years they'd spent together. An evil smile curled her lips - she also knew how to give him the most pain.
Stumbling slightly as she neared her destination, she reached out to the sewer wall beside her for support. The voice in her head laughed at her as she paused to gather her strength. That voice inside her had laughed at her once before too...
Her mind drifted to that night in Prague - the mob - the hurt, and hurt and more hurt. Then she'd woken up in Spike's arms, and he'd promised to make everything all better again... ohh Spike...
Her face rippled and morphed as she growled and pushed herself from the wall and resumed her walk. No more Spike thoughts! Spike had been a very bad boy. Spike would be punished. Spike would suffer greatly for what he'd done. The silent laughter died away as she let her anger take over. Yes, anger was good, anger made the laughing go away... It was afraid of her anger.
Spike was suffering. Greatly. In fact he couldn't recall the last time he'd felt this... sappy. "Buffy wanted me to tell you that the implant isn't working anymore." he bit out reluctantly.
Giles didn't even bother looking up as he continued fixing his sandwich, "Why?"
The two were alone at the moment, at Giles' place, which Spike had gotten to with no problem, his current sun immunity still holding. No one else had arrived yet, as it was still fairly early in the afternoon, which was basically the reason he'd wanted to come now.
"Probably because the implant isn't working anymore." Spike smirked.
He and Buffy had spoken briefly before he'd left; after he'd woken up to find his hand lying partially in a narrow beam of sunlight streaming in through a small crack in the curtains of the room. Once the initial panic had worn off, he'd soon realized that he hadn't been burning as he should have been, or even feeling warm. Buffy had then all but ripped the curtains from the window, effectively bathing him in very direct sunlight, and after falling off the bed screaming like a ninny, then yelling at her, he'd eventually stood once again and realized that whatever strange immunity he'd been granted was still in effect.
Giles choked on the piece of lettuce he'd just shoved in his mouth, and Spike absently patted the man on the back.
Having briefly discussed what his plans were and after confirming that he'd stay to help for a while at least, he and Buffy had decided - or rather, *Buffy* had decided - that secrets were a bad thing in her life, and he should therefore come clean with the group.
"Not working?" Giles repeated, his right hand dropping the meat he'd been laying on the bread spread out before him in favour of the mayonnaise-covered knife as he quickly backed away from the vampire. "What do you mean not working?"
Talking to Giles alone first had seemed to be a good idea, so, leaving Buffy in bed he'd hiked himself across town like a whipped domesticated pup.
"I mean its been shorted out since my encounter with the fuse box a few nights ago." Spike explained, adding the lettuce to the sandwich and finishing the job abandoned by the wary mortal. He picked it off the counter and placed it on the dish Giles had already pulled from the cupboard and offered the food to the former Watcher.
Giles accepted the dish absently, "Thank you. -You mean you've been running around killing people for the past few nights?"
"No. I wanted to kill Buffy before I touched the rest of you - or anyone else for that matter," Spike replied offhand, popping a leftover piece of lettuce in his mouth, "-the only mortal I've killed at all so far is that Slayer...".
He was pinned back against the fridge with the knife biting into his neck a second later. "What did you do to her?" Giles growled menacingly, anger thick in his voice, his eyes flashing with a darkness that Spike hadn't seen in a souled being in a long time.
"I stabbed the stupid chit in the heart." Spike choked out, "Don't worry, she won't be coming back." He'd heard various stories about that dark-haired Slayer, but he certainly couldn't see why Giles was making such a huge fuss over it. From what he'd heard, this group had fared fairly well against that 'Faith' in the past.
Reaching up to rub his neck as Giles released him, he didn't even see the punch coming, the force of the blow smashing the back of his skull into the hard plastic of the fridge door behind him. His eyes widened as another blow headed his way and he quickly scooted out of the way and into the next room.
"Uh, Giles?" he ducked as a mug came flying towards his head, more than thoroughly confused.
"You killed her?!" Giles roared, launching the knife he still had in his hand. Spike caught it before it imbedded itself in his stomach dropping it to the floor as he was tackled to the floor by the enraged mortal. Blow after blow came raining down him, most of which he managed to block, but his initial surprise and confusion was very quickly giving way to rage at this sudden attack.
Vamping out and growling, Spike threw Giles off and onto the sofa, "You all hated her, I don't see what the bloody problem here is!" Spike yelled, moving in for an attack of his own. "Okay, I killed a mortal - oops - I'm not gonna apologize if that's what you're looking for!"
"Hated her?!" Giles barked out incredulously, reaching for a stake that had been left on the coffee table in front of him. The normally soft spoken mortal shook his head, "I should have seen this coming, I should have known you weren't to be trusted!" Giles charged the oncoming vampire, but Spike was quicker. Before the stake came anywhere near him, he kicked it out Giles' hand, then backhanded the man over the couch and onto the floor.
Following close behind, Spike leapt off the cushions of the couch, landing on his feet in a crouch, straddling the mortal and pinning him to the ground. "Go ahead then," Giles invited, practically offering his neck, "-but so help me, if I have to sell my soul to Satan himself, I will see to it that you pay for what you've done."
Those last words were completely lost on Spike, who, still growling, bent over, fangs bared, until the picture of him trying to explain this whole mess to Buffy later passed through his mind. They'd have that fight to the death for sure then... which for some insane reason wasn't nearly as appealing to him now as it had been only a couple days ago.
With every ounce of control he could muster, he forced his anger-induced hunger back and pulled his human features back in place. "For Buffy." he mumbled, relaxing his grip on said Slayer's mentor. "She'd never forgive me for this." Why exactly that knowledge wasn't feeding his incentive to carry through with the deed was something he did not have the temperament to deal with at the moment. He'd lost his urge to kill Buffy at some point last night, but loving her - *liking* her even - that couldn't possibly be what he was feeling now...
Giles blinked up at him with a combination of confusion and contempt, "But you think she will for killing her?" he spat out balefully.
Backing off slowly, Spike knelt on the floor in front of Giles, his confusion from earlier bubbling back to the surface, "No, I imagine she wouldn't forgive me for killing her either." he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips at the thought.
Giles sat up and looked at him, the hate in his eyes slowly giving way to an equal confusion as well, "She wouldn't?" he asked, "She-she's not dead?"
Spike frowned, "Not when I left. Why?"
Eyes narrowing with suspicion, Giles studied him closely, "You just said she was your first kill since your implant... shorted out."
"I...?" Spike had to laugh as he thought back to what exactly he had said to Giles. "Soddin' dolt, you didn't even let me finish!" he managed to gasp out as he fell to his side on the floor, laughter bubbling out in full force. When he finally managed to calm himself somewhat, he tried finishing what he had been trying to tell the man earlier. "I meant I'd killed that Slayer, Faith, who had shown up to help Dru with some spell that would use the Hellmouth energies to tear Angel's do-good little soul out once and for all."
"Oh." Giles frowned, before a look of embarrassment crossed over his face. "So, Buffy is..."
"Very much alive." Spike nodded, enjoying the way the mortal's ears were turning bright red.
"So then you..."
"Still haven't had a decent kill in over four years." Spike confirmed, a twinge of bitterness dampening out his amusement.
"I see." Giles nodded slowly, before removing the glasses that had miraculously remained on his face during the scuffle. Wiping the lenses with the bottom edge of his shirt, he looked back up at Spike and opened his mouth.
"Already forgotten." Spike conceded, sparing the mortal from having to actually say the words. Getting to his feet he bent back down, offering Giles an arm up. "We'll say you owe me one." he continued, as an afterthought, "Which you can pay me back by letting me stay."
"Stay?" Giles repeated with uncertainty as he stood and put his glasses back on.
Sighing, Spike grabbed one of the chairs and straddled it, then explained, in a slightly edited version, his new deal with Buffy.
Xander flipped the TV off and fell back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The house was absolutely silent right now, his parents had gone off who knew where for the day, and Anya was still at the University.
She'd actually enrolled as a part-time student, more out sheer boredom than anything else. But she'd found several classes that she'd really enjoyed, and had convinced Willow to hack into the University system and get her enrolled.
So yes, Xander was at home, in the basement, alone, bored out of his skull - and in between jobs. Again. He still couldn't believe it. He flubs one tiny, little thing, and they fire him - well, okay, maybe it wasn't such a tiny little thing... But come on, when they'd told him to look into getting new reading material at the library, how was he supposed to know that X-rated, porn stuff was not one of the options?
Had they specified that they wanted new good-for-a-general-audience stuff? Nooooo. He snickered, despite the situation, as he remembered the look on Beatrice's face when the box of magazines had come in. Shocked, would be putting things mildly. Still, this just meant he'd be hitting the want ads again. There'd been a rather appealing ad for male gigolos - that might not be so bad; spending hours and hours around lovely ladies, ogling to his heart's content, getting paid for it, losing his favourite female ex-demon...
He bit his lip thoughtfully. There was that down side; Anya might be a tad upset with the prospect of having to share his luscious bod with dozens and dozens of other females.
Right. Sex was good right now, hormones were in check, the family jewels were getting quite a bit of attention... scratch the gigolo job.
Rolling over to his stomach, he started reaching for the newspaper he'd discarded earlier when he accidentally knocked the flashlight off the bed and onto the floor. Reaching to pick it up, he made a brief note to himself to get those blood stains washed off fairly soon. He froze. Blood stains. Dead Faith. Call Giles.
Groaning, he scrambled off the bed, and started rooting through the piles of junk and discarded clothes on the lamp stand beside the bed, trying to unearth his phone. How could he be so dumb! He'd completely forgotten to update Giles on the sewer search he and Anya had done that morning.
Granted, it wasn't all his fault. After finding the sewer section over the hellmouth, he and Anya had stumbled upon that little chamber that had become Faith's final resting place. He'd been freaked out enough to want to run before whatever had killed the brunette Slayer decided to come after them, Anya had been curious enough to roll the body over and analytically describe the likely cause of death, Xander had freaked and dropped the flashlight, and Anya had come to the realization that they hadn't yet had sex in the sewers.
Despite all his arguments that sewers plus sex did not equal romance, he'd eventually given in, managing only to pull them out of Faith's chamber and into another nearby one. Of course, despite the 'successful orgasms' as Anya had put it, they had both stunk horribly, so upon arriving back at Xander's basement abode, they'd immediately showered - which, needless to say had led to other activities, which had ultimately led to Xander waking up nearly an hour later alone in bed, which had led to thumbing through the newspaper want ads, which had led to boredom, and hence TV watching, which had led to more boredom and the intention of returning to his job search, which had led to dropping the flashlight, which had led to remembering that he'd forgotten to call Giles with his update...
With an exclamation of triumph, he finally found the buried phone and quickly dialled the number. He somehow doubted that sex would be a convincing defence to use against his neglecting to call earlier - maybe he could blame it on a demon, or just another one of those unpredictable Hellmouth happenings.
"Yeah?" the not-Giles voice on the other end picked up.
Xander frowned, Spike? Oh well, "Spike, I need to speak with the G-Man, he around?"
"Yes."
There was a pause - which continued to drag on well past the time that it would have normally taken to get someone. "Can I talk to him?" Xander sighed, with exasperation.
"No."
Rolling his eyes, Xander sat down on the edge of his bed, this was ridiculous, Buffy and Spike were missing - hello, emergency here. "It's really important oh defanged one." Xander intoned, trying to impress upon the vampire the dire situation here.
"He's busy." Spike answered, obviously not about to impressed upon, despite the current circumstances.
"Doing what?" Xander asked with growing impatience, "Tell him it's about Buffy and..." he trailed off. He was talking to Spike. How could he be talking to Spike when Spike was among the missing?
"He's sort of... mending... himself at the moment." Spike continued to refuse.
"Oh. Okay." Xander mumbled, his brain still trying to catch up with itself. "Well, um, maybe I'll leave a message then."
"Shoot."
Brightening, Xander sat up, "You'll never guess what Anya and I found in the sewers this morning."
"Bad smells, rats, human waste, and Faith's body?" Spike asked in a bored tone.
"...and *Faith's body*." Xander finished proudly. "Dead, I mean." After the briefest of pauses, he frowned yet again, realizing that Spike had already said that. "-which is basically, what you said, yeah."
"Giles already knows." Spike informed him, "But I'll tell him you rang."
"There was no sign of Buffy or... um, you... though, but I guess that's cause you're over there right now, and Buffy's...?" Confusion did not even begin to describe what he was feeling right now, and he realized he'd probably already come off sounding a little dumb, so why not go the whole nine yards.
"She's resting at the mansion. She'll be by later." Spike filled him in.
"Okay, cool." Xander nodded. "Um, glad you're all... you know... unliving... still, by the way." he ended, not wanting to sound too unmacho with the statement, but relieved nonetheless that the blonde vampire was actually safe. There were times when he could almost forget that Spike was actually a ruthless killer, and during those times, Xander would find himself actually liking the walking dead guy. Not in any sexually undertoned way, but rather as that friend, that buddy, he hadn't had since Jesse had died.
He hadn't exactly been popular in highschool, he'd never liked Angel, and whatever bonding he might've had a shot at with Oz had been seriously hampered by his indiscretions with Willow. Larry had been gay, Riley he'd trusted only a fraction of inch more than Angel, and that had basically only been because the commando had at least been human, but Spike... It had taken a while, and granted, that chip was playing a big role too - no way he'd trust the totally wild and free version of the vampire - but yeah, at times Spike seemed to be the closest thing to a buddy he had in his life at the moment.
There was a long pause on the other end, and Xander wondered if perhaps he'd said too much. Spike was probably trying hard not to laugh on the other end. That did it - this conversation could not possibly get any worse.
"Thanks." Spike finally answered. "See you later then."
"Yeah, later." Xander agreed with a slight frown as he hung up.
He'd been sort of expecting some kind of sarcastic remark, he supposed, as he fell back down onto his back. Spike always seemed to need the last say in any given conversation, but this had been different - sincere. That was what it had been: sincere.
Shaking his head, Xander reached over his head for the paper and flipped it open as he rolled over onto his side. Okay, major wiggins; Spike was being sincere, something bad had to be coming. Badness on the hellmouth always seemed to be preceded by strangeness, and this was a definite qualifier in the realm of strange.
Wesley stared across the crowded room at his 'boss', still trying to figure out what exactly it was that had possessed Angel to want to come here tonight. His observances of the moody two and a half century old vampire tended to indicate a preference for solitude and quiet environments.
Angel was getting neither at the club they had stepped into tonight.
The dark-haired vampire was in fact dancing up a storm with the young ladies, liberally ogling their bouncing bosoms and long slender legs. The half-smile, half-smirk plastered to his face seemed to indicate that he was having the time of his life - or unlife - and was enjoying every minute he was out there. An emotion that was, for obvious reasons, not generally displayed or entertained by the vampire in question.
For goodness sake, if Wesley didn't know better he'd be sorely tempted to say Angelus was out and running around about once again.
But that simply wasn't possible. Despite Angel's slightly erratic behaviour, he 'd steadfastly continued helping 'the weak, needy, and depressingly penniless', as Cordelia had once called them - and Wesley had kept a close vigil over Angel's behaviour, strangely enough at the vampire's own request. It was only Angel's 'off- time' that seemed to have taken a strange turn.
Cordelia had been overjoyed when Angel had begun expressing more of a desire to get out and 'party' earlier that day - and the rather smashing wardrobe their employer had supplied for her before dragging Wesley over to this club had almost enticed her to retract the pay-raise she'd requested a little while ago. Almost.
"Wes, you really have to learn to loosen up a bit," Angel commented, as he approached the bar where the current demon hunter was seated, still leering at one of the females from his entourage, "-we're supposed to be having *fun* tonight, remember?"
"Yes, of course, fun." Wesley nodded unconvincingly, unsure if he should avert his eyes or not, as Angel and the rather exotic dark-haired woman began kissing. Focusing his attention back to the drink he had yet to touch, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fingering the edge of the collar of the black t-shirt Angel had insisted he wear tonight. Black t-shirt, black jeans - Wesley shook his head. He'd given up on those leathers a long time ago, never quite feeling comfortable in them, and, as then, he probably looked quite ridiculous right now - or a lot like Spike...
"Okay you big party-poop, let's go." Angel sighed, grabbing his jacket and heading for the door. Wesley looked after him with a frown, then shook his head and stood to follow. Something strange was going on here, but he couldn't quite figure out what - Angel hadn't shown any unusually violent or aggressive tendencies, the murdered girl he'd found the previous night had borne evidence of multiple vampire feedings, not just one - which, along with Angel's own fragmented memories seemed to rule Angel out as her direct killer - and his boss certainly hadn't been killing anyone, or demonstrating any inclination to kill anyone, that Wesley had been able to detect tonight. Perhaps this was all some strange vampiric mid-life crisis.
Shaking his head, Wesley quickened his pace to catch up with the vampire who had become his friend, determined to continue researching. Whatever was going on could be nothing, but if it was...
"So what should we do tomorrow night?" Angel asked, eyeing the various night clubs they passed as they walked down the street to where they had parked. "If you pick, you might actually do something more exciting than your stone-statue impression."
"Um... perhaps an evening in would be a good id-" he started, only to be cut off.
"Fantasy XXX-ploits it is!" Angel exclaimed with an approving nod before plastering him with a look of fake shock, "I had no idea you were such a closet pervert! Congratulations! There's hope for you yet."
Swallowing heavily and nearly choking as Angel gave him a solid shoulder clap that threatened to send him flying off the sidewalk, Wesley looked over at the vampire beside him, trying to judge how serious he was. There was no way he would join Angel for a night of ogling naked women, and engaging in acts of wanton sex... he had to draw the line somewhere.
Angel gave him an amused look then and raised an eyebrow, "You have seen it all before, right?"
"I-I... of course I-I..." Wesley stammered uncomfortably, refusing to meet Angel's questioning gaze.
"You haven't had you?" Angel shook his head in surprise. "Geez Wes, you grow up in a monastery? I know London has their share of sex shops - heck, Europe probably runs a close second to Asia in the whole sex industry."
Not really wanting to think about how or why Angel might know this, Wesley cleared his throat and changed the subject, "The case we're working on, I thought we were planning a stake-out for tomorrow night."
"Yeah, for a few hours." Angel nodded, still giving him an incredulous look, "-but most of these places are all-nighters." the vampire continued, refusing to let the former Watcher off the hook that easily.
Wesley closed his eyes and groaned inwardly as he got into the passenger side of the car. He'd been raised to hold a high degree of respect for the opposite sex, which he knew many would probably consider chauvinistic and old-fashioned, and he'd already been quite corrupted since his arrival in America, but he was definitely drawing the line with strip clubs and whore houses. Maybe he could let Angel out on his own for one night and get some more research done. What could possibly go wrong in one night?
Cordelia hung up the phone and sat in fearful dread, her eyes alternatively sweeping from the cargo lift, to the office entrance, to the stairs leading down to the basement. Angelus might be back? No. No, that couldn't be right. She'd seen Angel the past couple of nights - and days - and it was definitely *not* Angelus looking back at her. Wesley had even spent most of the previous night clubbing with the dark-haired vampire, and from what she'd heard, no innocent blood had been spilled.
No. She knew Angelus. She'd been right there each and every time his soul had fled - Angelus would not have bothered refraining from killing the street punk they'd ambushed to question about that Cole Somethingorother, that they were currently tailing for Kate. Angelus would have grabbed the knife that the moron kid had produced and started slicing the young teen into unidentifiable shreds, not keep his cool, toss the knife aside and attack the youth's sense of wrong and right.
Angelus would not have bought her a new designer's dress when she'd complained that she'd had nothing to wear to the party she'd been invited to for the following day. Angelus would have grabbed her by the throat and drained her dry as a solution to a fashion problem she was having.
Okay, yeah, maybe her boss hadn't quite been his usual moody and broody self lately, but that didn't automatically mean...
"Ah, Cordelia," Wesley greeted, entering the office with an armload of books. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me a hand with these." His arms full, he was also pushing box full of books through the door with his feet.
Rolling her eyes she reluctantly stood and made her way around the desk towards him. "You couldn't have just FedEx-ed them?" she grumbled, grabbing the books in his arms. "-and geez, what's with all the books? I think I'd remember if I'd just had a vision or something."
"The books?" Wesley hesitated for a moment, looking for all the world as if he'd just been caught shoplifting. "Ah yes, well, ah, since Angel - our boss-"
"I think I know who he is." Cordelia interrupted, before the Englishman could distract her by going off on a strange tangent, "Just give it to me straight."
"Er, well, he asked me to do a bit of research..."
"He asked you?" Cordelia asked, insulted. What was she? Decoration? Sure there was a time in her early years with him when she had been significantly less of a contributor to his little agency, but after realizing that acting just wasn't in her cards, she'd come a long way.
There wasn't a single file out of order in the office anymore, business affaires were all meticulously sorted, filed and organized, she made sure that Angel and Wesley both had their supplies of coffee, tea and random goodies stockpiled - half the time she was even the one who kept Angel's fridge downstairs stalked with blood; her fighting skills had improved immeasurably, and strangely enough, her acting was dead on convincing if it was needed for a case.
This was all aside from having to endure bone-crunching, mind-burning, skull-splitting headaches every time the Powers That Be decided some evil out there needed Angel's specific attention.
Wesley shuffled uncomfortably and apologetically, "Well, it really didn't seem to be very..."
"-important?" Cordelia asked with an upraised brow before dropping the armload of books she had relieved him of onto to the floor and storming back to her desk.
"I was going to say: appropriate." Wesley finished with embarrassment, "We didn't want to cause you undo alarm when we weren't even sure oursel-"
"You know what? Save it." Cordelia interrupted, both angry and hurt. Okay, so maybe they thought they'd handle things on their own until they were sure there was a problem, but they were supposed to be a team when it came to stuff like this. "By the way, Buffy just called. Apparently, our Sunnydale cohorts have learned that Angelus might be freed sometime soon, if not already." she informed him. "I told her that he still seemed soul-having, but she told me to let you know. We probably shouldn't let the big guy know just yet though, cause..." she trailed off as she took in the increasingly guilty look on the former Watcher's face, and crossed her arms. "Well, I guess that was just a waste of my breath." she commented, sitting down and busying herself with sorting through the few loose papers on her desk.
"Cordelia..." Wesley started, approaching her desk. She held up a hand, stopping him, "Obviously you two men - or man and unman - have things well under control on your own." she informed him coolly, "So, I'll just leave the big not important stuff in your capable hands, and get out of your hair."
Standing she grabbed her purse, glaring daggers at him when he opened his mouth to speak once again. "-and by the way, I really appreciate the warning you were so kind enough not to share with me, even after seeing Angelus in all his glory yourself not so long ago." she finished off, turning on her heel and leaving.
Ignoring his calls for her to return, she strode out purposefully into the late evening bustle, and started for home. She could not believe the gall of those two. Granted, this wasn't the first time they'd left her out of the loop until they'd confirmed whatever danger it was that needed taking care of - and normally she might even appreciate having the opportunity to actually enjoy a somewhat normal social life during that time - but this was Angel they were dealing with right now. A friend. -And it had to be fairly serious for Buffy to call her. The two had barely spoken at all since she and Angel had left Sunnydale after graduation. In fact, it was only on the rarest occasion that they tended even to get official word from the happenings in Sunnydale. Not that Cordelia minded all that much, there was nothing left tying her to that small demon-infested town - in fact she didn't even like most of the people she'd left there.
Which was why the phone call had bothered her all the more. No matter how much she may dislike Buffy, she knew that the Slayer would not call about Angel - especially with a message such as the one she'd just delivered - if it wasn't a genuine concern.
She made her way home in a daze, not even realizing she'd made it until she became aware of a box of kleenex being hurled in her direction. Screeching in surprise, she batted it out of the way before it hit her and stared through the open door of her apartment into the empty room before her.
"Dennis!" she scolded, picking up the kleenex and heading in. The door closed and locked behind her as her phantom room-mate took the kleenex box from her and replaced it on the lampstand. "A simple 'hello' would have done." she muttered as she set her purse down on the kitchen table and opened the freezer.
'You wouldn't have heard me.' floated up to her from one of the many writing pads scattered throughout the apartment.
Retrieving a microwaveable meal, she rolled her eyes, "You know what I meant."
'Bad day at the office?' scratched itself out on the pad.
Despite her mood, she had to chuckle, he could be such a sweetie sometimes - when he wasn't scaring any potential boyfriend out of the apartment in one of his oh so mature fits of jealousy. "Yeah, sort of." she relented, placing the fettuccini dinner into the microwave to heat it up.
'Stake the vamp?' appeared on the pad as she sat down to wait for her meal.
Again she laughed, "No I didn't stake the boss - and no you can't stake him next time he's over either." she added, not quite sure what he meant by the question. An unhappy face doodled itself on the page. Angel was one of Dennis' longstanding objects of jealousy, despite the fact that she felt no romantic inclination towards him. Too much history - especially with the Angelus side of things, she figured, although she could openly admit to finding him incredibly yummy and gorgeous.
The microwave beeped and before she could get up, the oven was opened and her food came floating over to her. The lid was peeled off and the utensil drawer was opened, a fork soon coming out to join the dinner on the table before her. "Sucking up won't change my mind." Cordelia shook her head as some juice was poured and placed in front of her as well. "Angel stays alive. -Or dead - or undead - or whatever." Another unhappy face was doodled on the paper. Cordelia chuckled, her mood already vastly improved.
She doubted she'd ever really find herself a normal boyfriend. Dennis was just to perfect for her, though she'd never tell the ghost that - no need getting whatever passed for his head bigger than it already was.
Angel blinked his eyes open the minute the blood hit his mouth, the fact that it was pigs blood he was tasting at the moment was the only thing that was keeping him from stopping himself.
Bag drained, he finally took in his surroundings. He was in his kitchen, in his basement living quarters... he looked down, then chewed on the inside of his lip in confusion; he was also stark naked.
Frowning, the only thing he could remember after ending the stake out with Wesley was finding himself in some dark alley, going in for the kill on some homeless bum. He'd run... his frown deepened... well, obviously he must have run home.
A few more jumbled flashes streaked through his mind of him entering his room, undressing and stumbling into the kitchen, but why he'd done all that remained a mystery. In the back of his mind somewhere, he was pretty sure he could feel his demon laughing though...
Turning around, he was about to toss his spent bag into the garbage when he saw the last person - or vampire, to be more precise - that he'd ever expected to see here. Panicking, his free hand reached beside him for the most convenient cover - the dishtowel - as his eyes searched for signs of any other intruders.
"Dru." he greeted, as normally as he could manage, trying to ignore the fact that he was in a very complete state of undress and standing in front of one of Angelus' two favourite obsessions.
Swallowing, as he worked at keeping his composure he glanced around for some kind of weapon, spotting a wooden spoon on the counter close to his right hand - the one still holding the empty blood bag. He immediately, albeit somewhat irrationally, wished he had a third arm so he could grab the potential weapon.
Dru tilted her head slightly as she studied him, a faraway look in her eyes, "Not my Angel." she frowned, focussing on him again and moving forwards a couple steps. "Something's gone wrong."
Backing himself into the cool fridge behind him with a strangled yelp as Dru shrugged slightly and began hungrily devouring him with her eyes, Angel slowly became aware of two things. First of all, he really didn't have to continue holding the blood bag in his right hand. In fact if he put it down, he'd be able to grab the spoon rather easily. Secondly, at the rate his body was currently reacting to Drusilla's lust-filled gaze, he wouldn't actually have to be holding the dishtowel over himself in a few minutes, thus freeing up his left arm, which could then take the blood bag so his right hand could grab the spoon.
As those two options passed through his mind, Dru began advancing on him, and idly he had found himself wondering why he'd even wanted the spoon to begin with. She vamped out and reached towards him, the sudden change snapping him out of his mental fog. Dropping the blood bag, he grabbed the spoon and smashed it against the edge of the counter, splintering the curved, spoon part off, leaving him with a suitable weapon.
Dru hesitated and drew back, her human face rippling back into place. "Is Angel going to punish me?" she asked innocently, looking at the broken spoon handle in his hand. Angel cringed at the slightly hopeful tone in her voice, and lowered his weapon slightly.
"Dru, what are you doing here?" he asked. She didn't reply, her gaze transfixed on the splintered wood in his hands. "Dru," he tried again, not wanting to think about where his next words were coming from, "-you can't stay here, if you do I'm going to have to... kill you." he paused a moment and she took that opportunity to speak up again.
"I need my Angel's help." she whimpered softly, catching his gaze again. Angel could feel himself starting to slip into those mysterious, dark globes, and quickly averted his eyes. No mind tricks, he silently resolved, shaking his head.
"I-I can't help you Dru." he refused reluctantly. He couldn't. He really couldn't. Killing his own children was something he could prevent himself from doing, more because of the connection he felt with them than anything else, but he could not help them. Not anymore. He'd done more than enough damage in their lives already.
The mixed feelings of guilt, regret and self-hatred over how things had gone with Penn still, even after all these years, hung heavily over him.
Slumping over in defeat, Dru lowered her head. "Mummy used to tell me we had Angels watching over us." she murmured softly. "Do you remember my mummy?"
Angel's heart wrenched at the memories that statement invoked. That had been a deliberate strike, the vampiress may have been insane, but she was not stupid. "Dru, I really think you should leave." he forced out, deciding to take the first step, and moving to walk around her.
She grabbed at him as he passed, and he quickly spun out of her grasp. She had grabbed a light hold of his elbow though, and when he spun, she lost her grip, the momentum of his motion sending her staggering towards the couch, where she stopped and leaned over. Something was wrong. She shouldn't have been that dazed by the small scuffle.
He glanced between her and his bedroom, trying to decide if he should go to her, or get some clothes on. She crumpled to the floor and hugged herself, rocking gently back and forth. He slipped into his bedroom to find his pants.
Pants on, he looked at the spoon handle, then hesitantly left it on the night side table and walked back into the living room and to Drusilla's side. Kneeling down beside her, he gathered her frail form into his arms, pushing all questions as to why he was doing this from his mind.
"What happened, Dru?" he asked softly, as she relaxed against him.
"Spike." Dru murmured, "My Spike."
Angel frowned, perplexed, Spike had done this to Dru? Somehow he couldn't quite picture that - maybe she was saying something had happened to Spike? An irrational wave of worry passed over him. He closed his eyes, what was wrong with him? Yes, okay, Spike and Dru were likely his oldest remaining children, but why did he care? They had been Angelus' family, not his.
"What happened with Spike?" Angel finally managed to ask.
There was a pause, then an emotionless voice answered him, "He chose the awful Slayer over me - just like you did."
End Part 1