"Wind - Fields of Gold"

Author: Vatrixsta Cruden
Contact: trixieangelsomething@hotmail.com
Dedication: We thank Sting, both for his music, and his love of Tantric sex.

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in fields gold

"Slayers aren't welcome here. This is a sanctuary."

"Look, if I was here to make trouble, you'd already be on the floor, Tonto."

"Is there a problem, my lovelies?"

"She's a Slayer," 'Tonto' whined.

"And you're ugly," Faith snapped, taking a menacing step in the bouncer's direction.

"Okay, neutral corners," Cordelia snapped, shoving Faith away with one hand, while she placed another on the rather impressive chest of the demon bouncer at Caritas. He was big and blue, and sort of reminded her of the Judge, in a far less I'm-gonna-destroy-the-world sort of way.

"Here without your cohorts I see," the Host noted. "And I was so hoping you'd slaughter another Queen song."

"No tequila, no singing," Cordelia assured him. "I'm here to vouch for her." She tilted her head toward Faith.

The Host looked the Slayer up and down. "Interesting," he murmured.

"What?" Faith asked, looking uncomfortable.

"This 'n that," the Host said, running his gaze up and down her body. Were it anyone -- thing -- else, it might have seemed lecherous. "You're singing," he said.

"No," Faith answered at the same time Cordelia said "Yes."

"One sec," Cordelia said sweetly as she took Faith's arm and pulled her aside.

"Watch it, Prom Queen," Faith snapped, wrenching her arm away.

"I was not Prom Queen, I was May Queen," Cordelia snapped. "And unless you want me to tell Buffy you refused to do this one little thing to help Angel that he would do for you in a =second=, by the way, you WILL get up there, and you WILL sing your little jailbird heart out."

Faith was stonily silent for a moment. Then she made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "I'm doing this for Angel," she muttered, heading straight for the stage.

Cordelia allowed herself a satisfied smirk as she walked over to the table the Host occupied. Taking a seat next to him, she propped her chin on her hand and stared at him until he turned his attention toward her.

"Haven't seen Handsome in here since last week," the Host commented.

"Angel came here last week?" Cordelia asked, puzzled. He hadn't told them he was visiting Caritas...

"Wanted to update me on the sitch with his little blonde thing," the Host remarked. "Gotta say, this tiny blonde is much healthier for his aura than the other tiny blonde."

"That's almost hard to believe," Cordelia muttered.

The Host looked at her carefully for a moment. "You've been awfully hard on him," he mentioned.

"Yeah, well, he deserves it," Cordelia said stiffly.

"No arguments," The Host conceded. "Baby did bad. He slipped. Nearly fell too far for saving. Good thing you've never done something you later wished you hadn't. Helps keep you up on that high moral ground."

"Hey," Cordelia began, but the Host held up a hand to forestall her -- Faith was singing.

"You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you. You'd be like heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much. At long last love has arrived. And I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you."

"Fabulous selection," the Host murmured. "Especially, you know, considering." He stared at Cordelia for a moment. "Oh, I guess not being prescient yourself you wouldn't know, would you?"

"I have visions," Cordelia said, a little haughtily.

"Not quite the same, though, is it, sugar?" The Host patted her hand consolingly.

"What are we supposed to do about Angel?"

The Host frowned. "What's wrong with Angel?"

Cordelia sat back, feeling smug. "Mr. Prescient doesn't know Angel went over to the dark side in a major way?"

"It's not like anyone bothers to keep me informed," he groused quietly for a moment. Then he sighed. "I was afraid that's what I was reading off of him. I was kind of hoping he'd just taken to wearing leather pants. Couldn't be helped, I suppose."

"What do you mean?"

"It's all a crapshoot, you know. The whole thing."

"What thing?"

"Life, my dove. The stumbles, the highs, the sorrow, the ecstasy -- none of it is pre-ordained, and yet all of it is meant to be. Angel never should have turned his back on his path, yet there was =nothing= that could have stopped it from happening. If you'd all been a little more supportive, it just would have taken him longer to hit the ground. Everything's in motion around us, sweet. We're just scrambling, trying to do what feels right, and praying we don't suck the world into hell."

"I need you baby, and if it's quite all right, I need you baby to warm a lonely night. I love you baby. Trust in me when I say: Oh pretty baby, don't bring me down I pray, oh pretty baby, now that I found you, stay. And let me love you... oh baby let me love you... "

"Now she's got a beautiful set of pipes," The Host continued, ignoring Cordelia's somewhat dumbfounded look. "Big things on her radar, too."

"Like what?" Cordelia managed to ask. She didn't like having deep thoughts. Ever since she'd started working with Angel, though, they'd been unavoidable. Damn vampire.

"When Little Ms. Hates the World is done, she should head to Wolfram and Hart. The One Handed Boy has the answers she needs."

"Wolfram and Hart =bad=," Cordelia hissed. "That stupid law firm almost cost us Angel, whoever the hell's fault it was. THEY are majorly responsible, and I don't want Unstable Girl anywhere near them, and especially not anywhere near Lindsey McDonald."

"I'm just telling you what I see," the Host insisted. "I've never read a Slayer before," he mused. "Unless you count what I got off the little blonde one from Angel."

Now, Cordelia felt mildly curious. "You got a clear picture of Buffy and Angel?"

The Host laughed. "Oh, those two crazy kids. Quite the ride ahead of them."

"Ahead of them?" Cordelia asked wearily, thinking of the long, long, long trail of bodies they'd left =behind= them. "Is it an angsty, bloody ride?"

Faith was stepping off the stage to thunderous applause. The Host stood, but spared Cordelia a few parting words over his shoulder:

"Nothing's ever for certain, but with those two, I guarantee it'll never get boring."

"No way, no how, I'm not playing this time."

"Xander, do stop being such a child--"

"I am NOT being a child! It's just that Willow's a dirty cheater and I won't play with her anymore!"

"I am not a cheater. You take that back, Xander Harris!"

"Every time we draw straws, you use your witchy-fu to make yours longer! I always get the short straw because Giles cuts them and he cheats too."

"Now hold on, I take offense to that--"

"Actually, you do sort of cheat, Giles."

"Willow--"

"Guys, this isn't solving anything. One of us has to go up there and talk to Buffy, and since I drew the short straw earlier, and Giles basically sucks at confrontation--"

"I do not--"

"AND SINCE WILLOW CHEATED -- I think the witch wins."

Three gazes exchanged glares with one another, before the redhead sighed and reluctantly headed for the stairs.

So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of the barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold

"Hey."

"Hey." Buffy tucked something beneath a pillow, then patted the bed beside her in invitation.

Willow crossed the room, and flopped down beside her undead best friend, the evil version of whom had killed Willow's lover. The redhead winced at her own thoughts, but they couldn't be helped. Saying goodbye to Tara had helped ease a lot of sorrow, but she still felt the distinct lack of her love's presence.

"Uh, there's not a really delicate way to say this, so I figured I'd just jump right in and... well..."

"Just say it, Will," Buffy sighed.

"Why the hell did you and Angel get sweaty lusty with each other?!" She paused for a second. "Do vampires sweat?"

Again, Buffy sighed. "Will, I swear, I still don't know how it happened. Well, I know =how=... " If she'd possessed the ability, Buffy would have blushed at the memory of Angel's hands and mouth on her body the night before. "I don't know how we let it happen," she said at last. "Everything's still sort of muddled in my head, but... "

"What?" Willow asked gently.

"We weren't... lucid," Buffy said at last. "I mean, we knew what we were doing, and how much we wanted each other... we were coherent. But it's like nothing mattered last night except whatever we wanted. And what we both wanted, more than anything else, was to be together."

Buffy had numbly told them all earlier that Angel had lost his soul. She hadn't explained further, but given that Xander had found her tied naked to the bed, no one had been that confused as to how it had happened.

"You can't remember anything else that might tell us how you could have let this happen?" Willow implored softly.

"Will, the only thing I keep remembering..." Buffy stared down at her hands, tightly clasped in her lap. "God, all I can remember is how incredible it was. How perfect it all felt, how perfect HE felt..."

Putting an arm around her friend, Willow stroked Buffy's soft blonde hair a bit awkwardly. She hadn't offered her best friend comfort like this since Buffy came back from the dark side.

"I know you've had a lot on your mind, so you probably haven't thought about this," Willow began hesitantly, "but Buffy... you're still Buffy."

Furrowing her eyebrows together, it took the Slayer a few moments to understand what Willow was trying to tell her. Then, her eyes widened.

"I still have my soul," she mumbled numbly.

Nodding, Willow winced a little. "Yeah. I mean, was it not -- you know..."

"Um, hate to break it to you, but there's definitely something even stranger than we thought going on, which means research, 'cause I'm kinda really sure I was perfectly happy several times last night."

Now, it was Willow's eyes that widened. "Several?" she squeaked, looking surprised, impressed and jealous at the same time.

"I lost count after four. I'm muddled, but some things, you just don't forget."

"Wow."

They sat in silence for a moment, before Buffy made eye contact again, big, liquid tears threatening to spill over her lashes at any moment.

"We have to get him back, Will. I won't make it without him again."

"We will," Willow promised, although she wasn't sure if she believed it. She wanted to, though. For Buffy's sake, and, despite what Angel had told them, for his, as well. He might have wished they hadn't cursed him before, but this time, Willow thought it was different. Angel wouldn't abandon Buffy in her new state of being without a guide.

Willow just hoped he got a choice in the matter.

The door had barely clicked shut when Buffy snatched up the small, leather bound journal she'd tucked under the pillow upon Willow's arrival.

She felt only a twinge of guilt as she cracked it open and flipped to the page she'd left off on. Angel's private thoughts were just that -- private. Buffy tried to tell herself she was only reading them under the same guise everyone had used to read her diary. The truth was, she didn't need insight into Angel's psyche, especially not his evil demon's psyche. It used to scare her how well she understood the nature of the beast. It didn't anymore.

No, the truth was, she simply needed to form a connection with him; with his soul. And this was him, in his purest form, boiled down to words and memories written out in a long stream of consciousness. Sometimes, it took her a minute to realize what he was referencing, his thoughts were so jumbled. The sheer breadth of his life no doubt accounted for a lot of his subject jumping; after nearly three hundred years of life, it was probably hard to think chronologically.

At the moment, he was waxing poetic while he'd still been in Sunnydale. From the entry, she'd guess it was a couple of weeks before Prom; before he'd decided to leave her. He'd already been considering it, though. The idea that he was holding her back had apparently weighed heavily on his mind since his return from Hell. Angel admitted in his journal that only his own intense need to be near her had prevented him from 'doing the right thing' that much sooner.

Buffy had known he'd possessed the deeply held belief that he wasn't good enough for her. What she was surprised to learn, spelled out in explicit detail in Angel's private musings, was that his feelings of inadequacy, his desire for her to have a normal life, while certainly guiding forces in his decision to leave, hadn't been the main reason for his departure.

His bone deep terror had.

Angel spoke of loving Buffy beyond reason in some of these passages. At times, his writing would cease to be to the diary, and he would refer to her in the second person, almost as though he were writing to her. He described the first time he made love to her in aching detail, and Buffy felt through his memories what that night had meant to him, no matter what came after.

She'd shed tears for his loss, and hers, until she'd thought herself empty of any moisture; then, when he talked of his fear, she proved herself wrong, and wept.

Perfect happiness was not synonymous with 'orgasm,' Angel had written, and Buffy thought, 'I could have told you that.' Further, perfect happiness didn't even mean 'orgasm with the one you love,' and again, Buffy thought of Riley, whom she had loved, even if it had lacked a certain blinding intensity. But never, not once, had she felt perfectly happy with him.

Again, Angel's words spoke the truth in her heart.

'It's freedom, Buffy. More and more while I examined my feelings for you in Sunnydale, I came to realize that perfect happiness means being totally free and at ease with who you are, and the person you're with. It means pulling the drain on pain and guilt and letting it swirl away until all you're left with is the warm-water-bliss pelting down on your skin, washing your sins away.

'That comes so close to happening for me just by sitting quietly in the same room with you. What would happen if I woke up beside you? Would there be too much happiness one day, would I forget again, for an instant, my eternal suffering, and damn us both? Faced with the certain knowledge that if I gave you half a chance, you would surely ease my pain, how could I have done anything but leave you to some chance at normalcy?'

With the very tips of her fingers, Buffy traced the loopy scrawls of his ls, the smooth flow of his words.

Buffy had told Willow the truth; last night was fuzzy, and she had no clear memories of why she had wanted him the way she had, or why neither of them had been able to think rationally about the curse.

But she did remember the emotion. There had been total freedom in his arms, and the bliss had washed her clean of all the filth she'd perpetuated soulless. He had made love to her, and her to him, and for the second time, she'd set his soul free. Hers was still firmly tethered to her body, and Buffy refused to believe it was because she hadn't found the exact same place he had.

Sighing, Buffy shook off thoughts of the curse for the moment. The others were no doubt researching up the wazoo downstairs. Right now, she needed to ground herself, and nothing else in her life had ever given her more clarity than listening to Angel's words of wisdom.

Hell, maybe she'd even gain a few insights into his character she hadn't known before. She'd already read his thoughts and feelings about the whole Darla mess -- nothing could be more shocking than that.

Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in fields of gold

'It's been three days since Buffy didn't lie in my bed; three days since I never made love to her. Seventy-two agonizing hours where I've remembered in excruciating detail never eating fresh strawberries from strategic parts of Buffy's anatomy. I went out and bought a gallon of Cookie Dough Fudge Mint Chip. Cordelia looked at me strangely when I yelled at her for opening it. It wasn't fair of me, but given how very =fair= my life has been lately, I think I'm entitled to be a little irrational.

'While I know it's only the first foray into madness, I swear I can smell her on my sheets. I wake up in the evenings, my nose buried in the pillow she never slept on, and for a second of time in-between sleep and consciousness, I can feel my heart beat the way it never did three goddamn days ago.

'I'm beginning to worry that I've created this beautiful fiction in my mind. There is no evidence of it, save the shattered pieces of my heart from watching Buffy disappear from my life once more. I confided in Doyle, and now he's dead, and I'm positive that's contributing to the rawness I feel, the pain, the rage. His death, him being the only one to know of my time with Buffy, makes me all the more protective of it. I don't want to tell anyone. I don't want to ease the burden of =knowing= everything that might have been had Buffy's life not been at risk. I want to hoard memories of a perfection I never thought I'd attain. Plus, I know that if I keep them to myself, no one will be able to tell me they aren't real.

'They =are= real. It never happened, but it's still =real=.

'Right now, I've decided to sit down and write this all out while I know I'm still sane. God knows I've invented enough impossible scenarios involving Buffy in my mind over the years. Soft, ridiculous, magnificent lies that gave me the strength to continue fighting, continue living my cursed existence for another day, another hour, another minute.

'I realized, when I asked the Oracles to take back that day, to take away my mortality, my salvation, my chance at pure, perfect happiness, that I was dealing my sanity a blow it might never fully recover from. My fear for Buffy's life, the certainty I felt in my marrow that other innocent people might die as a result of my selfish wants, overrode my equal certainty that holding all I've ever wanted in my hands, then losing it, would destroy something inside of me.

'Here I wait, feeling that jagged, broken thing inside me now. I'd call it innocence, if it were possible that a hundred and forty some odd years of death and another hundred of sorrow hadn't wiped any trace of innocence from my being. I want to call it the death of hope, but I still feel that, burning somewhere deep, deep down inside, untouched by an entire world I live and relive in a tiny corner of my brain.

'Instead, I think that broken thing is a notion I've carried with me since I was a child. In the end, even when I knew better, I always had an inherent belief in the world being a just place; somewhere that the good guys won, where love conquered all, and we really did live happily ever after.

'That belief finally died in the instant it took Buffy's tears to dry on my skin, her litany of promises to never forget still under the icy glare of her unaware righteous indignation. A bright flash, and the Mohra was dead, and with him, the death of a dream I hadn't allowed myself to truly consider, it was so outside anything I could possibly hope for.

'Buffy walked out of my life again, and something inside me died.

'What I didn't realize, not until just now, as I look inside myself, is that something just as precious was born in that same moment.

'The good guys don't always win. People who shouldn't die, do. Friends come and go, no matter how much we love them. Sometimes wanting someone with your entire being, loving them, isn't what's best for them.

'But we're still given the chance to fight, no matter the outcome. We are blessed to have friends and loves come into our lives, and it doesn't matter how long they're there, or where the ultimate destination lies; it's the journey that counts. We're still allowed to love.

'And somehow, a vampire with no right to ask for a moment's mercy, was shown a lifetime's grace for twenty-four perfect hours that =did= happen.

'Doyle's dead. Cordelia's falling apart. I refuse to lose my mind, because she needs me. Because there are others who need me. I refuse to let the memories of the day I spent as a human being be something that cripples me. I choose now to wear them as a badge of honor. Whatever the future may hold, I was loved, truly and completely, by my heart's only light, and the fact that I'm the only being on this earth that remembers is incentive enough to remember it well.

One last time, Buffy has saved me again without even knowing it.

See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon a the fields of the barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold

"It's horrid."

"I'd have to agree, princess. But it's only temporary. Everything's only temporary."

Angelus smiled as Drusilla slowly walked the length of the abandoned warehouse he'd found. It stank of rats, and if there's one thing Angel swore to himself he'd never smell again, it was vermin. But concessions had to be made in order to win the war, and a few nights spent in a place clearly beneath him was a small sacrifice indeed, when one kept an eye on the big picture.

"The wind is changing," she murmured. "Gathering, gathering, the multitude. Blow us around. Mix us up. Lead us home."

He tamped down the urge to roll his eyes. That had been Darla's response to Drusilla's ramblings, and more than once it had cost them dearly. A grin he couldn't contain spread across his lips as he remembered setting his two lovelies on fire a few short months ago.

"Naughty," Drusilla chastised, sliding closer to him. He wondered briefly if she could read his mind.

"You do know me so well," he said softly, running the backs of his knuckles down her cheek. Drusilla hummed her appreciation of his touch, and he thought about throwing her to the ground and pounding into her until all thoughts of tiny undead blondes fled his brain.

Nah, he thought. It just wasn't fun without Spike around to be driven nutty by it.

Nonetheless, he caressed the curve of her hip and was shocked when she pulled away from him.

"She's still inside of you," Drusilla hissed.

His mouth tightening, Angelus didn't bother to ask her who she meant. Lord, how he wanted to grab Buffy by her hair, tie her up and beat her until she bled. Then he wanted to fuck her until she screamed; drink from her until she was dry; let her replenish her strength with the blood that ran through his own veins.

And then, he wanted to start again from the beginning.

"It's different now," Angelus insisted, and even he recognized the uncertainty in his voice. "=She's= different now."

"She's like you were," Drusilla said. "More human than beast. Are you my beast again, Daddy?"

"Of course, Dru," he soothed, cupping her cheek in his palm.

Her head shook. "No. You're not. Daddy's heart doesn't work right. No humanity in that one."

A low growl left Angelus' throat. Oh, yes, he would make the little bitch pay for causing him to love her. Buffy, with her wide, innocent eyes that held a vicious demon caged behind them. Buffy, with her soft, fuckable curves and high, keening moans. He was hard as a rock just thinking about her, and Dru was giving off a distinctive 'don't touch' vibe. He could probably wear her down, but it didn't seem worth the effort. Only Buffy would be enough to satisfy his hunger; her body, her blood, her soft, luscious mouth...

"You have a plan," Drusilla singsonged.

Thankful for a distraction from his thoughts, Angelus motioned for Dru to follow him to a slab of concrete risen from the center of the floor. They sat, and he put a paternal arm around her shoulders. She snuggled happily into his side. Apparently, so long as he was playing the part of a doting father, she didn't mind his touch.

"Once I've found a way to rid Buffy of her soul--" and apparently screwing her six ways from Sunday wasn't going to cut it "--we're going to build a new family, sweet."

"You're bringing all your girls home to stay," Dru said with delight.

"Yes, my lamb. Perhaps we can find a way to unburden young William of his chip."

Drusilla shook her head violently. "My Spike is lost to me. He's all full of them. Little sprites have whispered it to me. He's all full of the Slayer and the witch. He wants them to be his family now. He doesn't want us anymore. I showed him that the toy soldiers were all in his head, but he's still all full of them. The wind has taken him from me. You won't let the wind take you again, will you, my Angel?"

To say he was disturbed was putting it mildly. Granted, Dru had been nuttier than a fruitcake since the night he turned her; but this was a few stops past 'nutty'. Drusilla sounded seriously disturbed, and not in her usual way. There was fear in her voice, fear that hadn't even been present when he'd overheard her sobbing to Darla after he'd set them on fire.

"I'm here for good, precious," he soothed gently. "And we'll find you a new prince, one worthy of you this time."

Her big, glassy eyes begged him to mean everything he said. Gently, he wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

"After all, my princess gets whatever her heart desires."

I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in fields of gold
We'll walk in fields of gold

"What's a Mohra demon?"

Giles looked up from the book he'd been reading in what had once been Angel's office. When he'd questioned Wesley about it, the other man had seemed uncomfortable. Buffy now stood in the doorway, looking somehow more upset than she had earlier.

"I'm not sure--"

"Well, while you're looking it up, also check on whatever Oracles are."

"Buffy, we do have a great deal to research already--"

"Giles." Buffy seemed to be exerting a great deal of effort to keep her tears at bay. "I need to know everything you can find me on Mohra demons and Oracles. I need to understand why... how he..."

"He?"

"Angel. Look, this has nothing to do with our current problem. But it has everything to do with Angel and I. Please, Giles, just try."

Giles sighed, then gave her the only answer he'd ever been able to when confronted with how dearly he loved her, and wished to keep her happy.

"Of course, Buffy, whatever you need."

"What did the Host say?"

"A whole lot of nothing," Cordelia said stiffly. She was still smarting from being chastised about HER treatment of ANGEL. Didn't anyone see that she was the wronged party? Wasn't it enough that she took him back into her life, that she was trusting him again, loving him again, treating him like family again? Sure, there had been a rough start, but she'd been the bigger person.

And there wasn't time for this right now. Whatever his faults, whatever her faults, Angel was family, Cordelia loved him, and they had to work to get him back.

"He said a little more than nothing," Faith insisted.

"Ignore Clearly Suicidal Girl," Cordelia snapped.

"Yo, could you guys stop scratchin' each others eyes out long enough to tell us what the Jolly Green Giant said?" Gunn requested.

"He told me I had to go to Wolfram and Hart," Faith answered.

"I know I'm not really familiar with them," Willow began hesitantly, "but I'd like to vote for any of us going to visit the evil lawyers as a very, very bad no-good idea."

"Seconded," Wesley announced.

"Hey, I was just saying it was a bad idea for She Of Anger Management Issues to go," Cordelia protested. "If the Host is sure there are answers at Wolfram and Hart, I believe him. Besides, something funky is going on, and they're usually responsible for funk."

"These are the same people Angel believed responsible for Buffy's soul," Giles clarified.

"Without perfect happiness clause," Xander added.

"We don't know that," Wesley argued.

"Well, girl's still got a soul, and Angel doesn't, so I'd say it's a pretty safe bet," Gunn cut in.

"Or, perhaps Buffy simply didn't achieve perfect happiness," Wesley offered.

"No, Buffy insists she was perfectly happy," Willow said. "And ... I believe her. I mean, it's Buffy with Angel. I may not have always thought he was best for her, but there's no denying they made each other happy when all the other bad stuff wasn't in the way. And now she's upstairs, and she won't come down, and we're all really worried and I don't think there's any way she wasn't perfectly happy." Willow sniffled, and seemed to be unsuccessfully trying to hold tears back.

"Agreed," Giles said. "The only conclusion I can come to is that whatever ritual was used to give Buffy's soul back to her was different than the curse that affected Angel." Wearily, he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And I fear we've nearly exhausted half of Angel's books without a glimmer of hope."

"Aha!" Cordelia crowed. "Which means we're going to have to seek answers elsewhere."

"Which means I'm taking a road trip to pay a visit to some evil lawyers," Faith concluded.

"Not yet," Wesley implored. "Give us time. A... "

"Another hour," Giles finished for him. "By then we will have worked through most of the oldest texts."

Faith blew out a reluctant gust of air. "Fine. One hour, then I'm out of here like lightning."

Everyone returned to research, and Spike, who'd been lurking in the shadows the entire time, crept up the stairs.

Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold

"Whatever it is you're here to annoy me with, I suggest you turn around and leave right now, because I swear, Spike, I'm no mood to put up with your endless bullshit."

"I just came up here to tell you your gang's goin' half off their rockers worryin' about you up here, mopin' and cryin' 'bout the bloody wanker. Now normally, I wouldn't give two shits about the whole lot of them. But. .."

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "But what?"

"Red's cryin'," Spike said, staring down at the ground. "She's just gotten to the point where thinkin' about the other little witch doesn't set her off on a sobbin' jag, and now you're upsettin' her and I don't like it."

"Spike, I don't know what you're trying to prove to me by pretending to care about Willow--"

"I'm not bloody pretending," Spike snapped. "I do care about her. I care about her because you cared about her, and 'far as we were all concerned, you were as good as dead for a spell there, pet."

"I will never love you." He looked confused, and she held up a hand. "I'm about to say something nice to you, and I needed to preface it with that." He shrugged, and she continued, "if you truly do care about her ... Thank you, for taking care of Willow. God knows with everything she's been through the past few weeks... whatever your motives, Spike, I'm glad she had someone with her when it counted."

"Yeah, well... no skin off my nose, right? I mean, what the hell else do I have to fill the boring arse time with? Vampire cannot live by 'Passions' alone."

Again, Buffy narrowed her eyes as she watched him carefully; noticed the way he was starting to fidget. His feet were shuffling a little. He looked nervous, and he was trying to slowly back toward the door without looking like he was slowly backing toward the door.

"Oh my God," Buffy muttered, torn between twisted amusement and revulsion, "you're in love with Willow!"

"Am bloody not!" he denied quickly and vehemently.

"Are bloody too!" Buffy insisted, leaping off the bed to stalk toward Spike. "God, I can't tell if this is creepier than you being in love with me or not," she muttered.

"Bloody hell." Spike cursed something else under his breath. "This just isn't fair, you know? You were bad enough, but at least you had some darkness to you. Little witch is all light and bubbles and fuzzypink sweaters. What the hell is wrong with me?!"

"That's what I'd like to know," Buffy mumbled.

"It'll be different," he said quietly after a moment. Buffy regarded him seriously; the expression on her face told him he could continue. "For one, there's no way in hell she's ever gonna find out about it. I'm consumed with her, but it's... it's not like with you. I don't want to go through her underwear drawer, or build a little shrine or anything."

"Thank heaven for small miracles?" Buffy echoed wearily.

"I knew going into it that there was no chance of you ever loving me back," Spike said slowly, "and I also know that there's even less chance of her feeling anything but pity, and maybe an occasional twinge of gratitude toward me. I get that, Slayer, so you don't have to ram the point home -- with your fists or anything else."

"You're not gonna be able to keep this a secret forever," Buffy said flatly. "You're like, the least subtle...person... on the face of the earth. You started chain smoking around my house. You snuck into my basement and rifled through my drawers for underwear and pictures. You--"

"Look, I already said it's not gonna go down like that with Red. Besides, my excuse for bein' around her is already in place -- I'm takin' care of her. Don't worry about her, Buffy. She's never gonna know a bloody monster's in love with her."

Something in his tone stopped the instinctual flow of objections, angry words and accusations Buffy was about to make. There was emotion in his eyes, something beyond obsession and lust. Could it be? she wondered half crazily. An evil, soulless creature possessing the capacity to love a human girl?

"If you hurt her," Buffy began menacingly.

"I won't hurt her, pet," Spike vowed softly. "I won't make a move on her, I won't so much as blow a kiss in her general vicinity." Buffy nodded, about to say that was a good idea, when he continued, "but I will be with her, in whatever way she needs."

Buffy refused to acknowledge how much he sounded like Angel right then.

Of course, the thought occurred, and before she could stop herself, the tears were coming, hard and fast, the momentary distraction of hating Spike and worrying for Willow passing as quickly as it came. Dragging her tired body back to the bed, she laid herself out on the soft silk sheets that still smelled like THEM, clutched Angel's diary to her chest and let her mind spin memories she wasn't allowed to possess. Borrowed memories of strawberry kisses, human warmth, and the cold hearted generosity of Powers that allowed such grace, such agony and ecstasy exist in the same precious moment.

She didn't notice when Spike quietly left the room.

"What's this, then?" Spike asked as he descended the stairs to find just about everyone present standing off with each other.

"I'm going to Wolfram and Hart," Faith gritted out.

"Faith, we just need a little more time to gather research," Wesley implored quietly.

"Angel may not HAVE time," Faith snapped. "I gave you an hour. You guys were the ones who said this Host guy had all the answers."

"It's just... Wolfram and Hart..." Wesley sighed. "They nearly destroyed Angel--"

"And I for one ain't about to let them do it again," Faith interrupted firmly. "Now I'm going to visit a certain one-armed man, I'm gonna get whatever he has that we need, and then I'm gonna come back here and let Witchy Woman work whatever mojo is needed to get Angel back."

"Right then. I'm goin' with you." Spike strode through the lobby.

"You can't be serious," Giles stated.

"No way, no how," Faith said firmly, glaring at the blonde vampire.

"I can smell Dru all over this," Spike said quietly. "If you can't feel her hangin' around, you're all bloody worthless. I wanna know what she's up to, and I'd wager this bastard lawyer's got the answers I need."

He and Faith stared each other down for a moment, then she shrugged. "Whatever.

They both strode outside before anyone could stop them.

You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold
When we walked in fields of gold

 

The End

<< back