"You don't have a pass. You can't be here," a voice came from behind. Wesley turned quickly and pulled something from his pocket. "Oh, good," the blond mumbled, seeing the stake and smiling. "You have a pass. Carry on." He turned on his heel and walked away, mumbling to himself, leaving Wesley to stare after him, confused.
He knew the blond man looked familiar, but it took a few moments for Wesley to remember where he had seen that face. This was one of Angelus' childer. Angel kept drawings of them all. This was William the Bloody. Spike. Fear coursed through him briefly, as he watched Spike walk away. When he showed no sign of aggression, Wesley followed. His hand gripped the stake tightly, ever mindful of the tricks vampires used.
Spike wandered into a room that contained a make-shift bed and a half-filled bookshelf. He sat on the bed and stripped off his skin-tight blue shirt. Wesley cringed at the sight of charred flesh. It appeared that Spike had draped his torso over a large cross. Putting his weapon in his back pocket, Wesley stepped forward when fingers started clawing at the burns, "Spike?"
Spike started when he heard his moniker. "Who are you?" he asked, trying to cover his nakedness. "How do you know me?"
"I'm Wesley. I used to work with Angel." He grit his teeth and cleared his scarred throat. "I recognized you from his sketches." Wesley spoke softly and inched towards the startled, confused Spike.
"Wesley? You used to be a Watcher, yes?" Wesley nodded as he stood before spike. "Then you can get it out. It hurts. It aches and burns and it was a mistake. I want it gone." Spike looked at him with sad, blue eyes, pleading for help. "She said because I didn't… she couldn't ever… and, and, and I did, for her. I can still feel them, crawling inside. In my head, in my chest, eating the demon away, making room. Then they squished it in and it burns and aches. She doesn't care… doesn't want me. But you could take it out, you could make it stop." Spike reached out, as if to grab Wesley's hips, but stopped. "No, you wouldn't want to help me… you want me like this… desperate," he whispered. "Why aren't you talking," Spike screamed. "Last time, all you did was talk. Talk and change into those others, then they talked."
Wesley gently laid his hand on Spike's shoulder and the blond flinched. "You're real."
tbc...
