Rated: NC-17
Pairing: Liam/Spike
Disclaimer: That Mutant Monster owns them, not us. *pouts* We’d take much better care of them though!! Lots of hot man sex!! YEAH!!
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E-mail: Pet – prettygirlryoko@yahoo.com Foxhunt2blue – foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com
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~Prologue~
Cold dampness seeped from the stone insinuating itself into every pore of his ravaged body. It seemed he'd never known warmth or sunlight. The cold had always been with him, he thought, it's arms wrapped tightly around him drawing his breath, his very life from him.
Curling into a tight ball on the thin mattress he shuddered with it, became one with it. A weak sound slipped from his cracked, bleeding lips, somewhere between a mewling kitten and a wailing banshee. The sound echoed off the stone walls as he pulled his knees up higher trying to find the faintest warmth in his nakedness.
From somewhere in the darkness the clang of metal on stone echoed followed by the heavy tread of booted feet.
It was coming.
He began giggling as the footsteps came closer; a high pitched sound that only madness could create.
Scuttling back across the stained mattress, using his feet for leverage, the giggling turned to sobbing. Soon the pain would come and his only hope for peace would be slipping into the cool arms of the darkness. He fought the restraining material of the straight jacket as he always did, but to no avail, it was far stronger than he was.
Suddenly the darkness was flooded with a sickly yellowish light from the open door. It encircled the dark figure in the door, an ethereal halo, but there was nothing beautiful in this place. This was hell, not heaven, and there were no angels with fiery swords to save him.
Damp, tangles of curls fell over his eyes as he tried to turn away from the demon with a human face. He clenched his eyes shut as rough hands grabbed his ankles and pulled his body down, his head hitting the floor, sending sparkling stars dancing behind his eyelids.
Opening his mouth, he began to beg in a flood of incoherent words that rapidly became a scream. A scream that filled the small damp cell with the endless sound of tortured souls deep within the dark walls of hell.
~Part: 1~
With a grunt, Spike woke his head throbbing with the one to many Guinness he'd indulged in the night before in Dublin. Blinking against the bright sunlight that flooded through the dusty bus window, he reached up pulling his sunglasses down from the tangle of platinum spikes and settled them on his nose. Even then, the sun seemed far to bright to contemplate and as if in agreement his stomach rumbled in protest at the lack of solid food in the past ten hours.
Shifting in the squeaky seat he cleared his throat and came face to face with Faith who was studying him as if he were a specimen beneath a microscope. Fumbling inside his coat for his crumpled pack of smokes, he raised one dark brow at Faith.
"What? Got me a booger on me bleedin' nose?" He snorted as he shook a cigarette from the pack then lit it up with a flick of his lighter.
"I never thought I would say this but you drink too much hoss. Do you know you had to be ‘carried’ out of that bar? When Gunn told you, you had earned some relaxation time I don't think he meant total body shut down Blondie." Faith’s smooth liquid voice flowed over him as she leaned back in the seat.
Flashing Faith the two-finger salute Spike inhaled and propped one booted foot on the back of the seat in front of him. "Hey ain't like me arse is that heavy. A bloke's got a right to have some fun once awhile. All work and no play makes Spike a grouchy boy." He exhaled a cloud of smoke in Faith's face with a smirk. "So where the bloody hell are we anyway?" He peered over the top of his glasses and out the window with a snort.
"Ireland looks all the sodding same to me. Green grass, rocks, and cloudy skies...well most times anyway."
Oz's head appeared above the seat in front of them, his expression mellow. "Emerald Isle...explains the green."
"Not in your hair it don't." Spike thumped his boot against the back of the seat with a chuckle.
"But it does explain the contents of my stomach that I ralphed last night." Xander groaned from across the aisle from Spike and Faith.
"Our poor Xander too many hot wings and green beers." Fred patted Xander's head sympathetically from the seat behind him.
With a roll of his eyes, at the whole conversation, Oz sat up pulling Willow with him and breathing out a soft chuckle.
Willow’s face was flushed pink and her eyes twinkling as she sat up on her knees facing Spike. "Connemarra... we're about ten kilometers outside the town." She blew a strand of red hair out of her face as Oz nibbled at her neck. "My tummy is all knotted up with all the excite- ment." She giggled and slapped at Oz as he growled softly.
"Oh, god please…no lovey dovey stuff." Xander groaned as he turned staring at Faith with huge moon eyes. "Unless of course my goddess will at last love me so."
"Well, luv...should I shoot his arse down or do you want the pleasure?" Spike snorted as he took another drag. "And by the way what the bloody hell is a Connemarra??"
"Kill him…I don't care. Just don't let him drool on me." Faith tiredly scrunched her face up as Xander blew kisses across the aisle.
"It's a town dumb ass. Good to see you’re awake." Gunn walked up the aisle towards the small group. "You my main man, gold mine, are not allowed to drink ever again before a gig or shoot. If just for my sanity alone."
"Oh, yeah that's gonna stick big britches." Faith snorted, slipping a rubber band from her wrist and flinging it at Xander's still smooching face.
"Yeah, what ever Chuck..." Spike rolled his eyes as he dropped the stub of his cigarette on the floor and ground it out with his heel. "And Xander, luv...give it up before Faith decides to drop your sorry arse over an Irish cliff." He turned back to Gunn as Willow and Oz got up wandering to the back of the bus. "So what's in this Connemarra and it'd better be good. Ain't like we're having much luck with the whole scouting trip."
"Trust me Spike. This one is the winner just ask our dear, beloved director here." Gunn rolled his eyes as he pointed behind him.
Moving to the side, he revealed a compact, yet toned man with shoulder length light brown hair, and sharp blue eyes, licking his lips with a bored expression on his face. "Like I told your fine manager…there’s an asylum in Connemarra that I think will suit your tastes.” His low southern voice was patient, but held just a touch of attitude towards Spike.
"Calm down Lindsey-pie. We all know you’re tired of Spike's shit about locations, but it is his band dude… you’re just shooting the video." Faith grabbed Spike's pack of cigarettes fishing one out.
Spike rolled his eyes at Lindsey as he took his lighter and held it out to Faith. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and leaned in lighting the pilfered cigarette from the flickering blue flame then leaned back. "My girl here is right Tex. My band...my choice." He shook another cigarette out of the pack and lit up still watch- ing Lindsey through narrowed eyes. "An asylum---huh? Not so sure I like the idea of being around a bunch of loonies."
"Oh…I'm sorry I need to be more specific for the back- water Englishman. It ‘is’ a burnt down rubble infested former asylum." Lindsey corrected himself with a smug tone.
"Lindsey." Fred patiently leaned forward. "We've had that ‘don't give southerners a bad name’ talk. Now be nice."
Grunting in disgust Spike stood stretching, his black tee riding up to reveal a flat muscled stomach, the silver ring in his navel glinting in the sunlight. "Yeah, well sweets we don't even consider this smug little wanker in the same evolutionary scale as you." He winked at Fred and blew her a kiss as he stepped into the aisle. "Now as to that back-water statement..." his lip curled in a smirk, "...takes one to know one, luv. Don't matter how you dress it up or deck it out white trash is still just that...trash."
"Whatever you say 'Spike'." Lindsey bit out his name as he turned away. "But I refuse to travel through out this entire god forsaken country so ‘you’ can find the perfect spot. So, for your sake if you don't want to find another director I hope it works. By the way…good luck because your name is more famous for the shit you bring than the songs you sing. You'll be lucky if you can get a homeless person to direct for you if I back out." Walking down the aisle, Lindsey flopped into his seat, stretching his legs out, and buffing his fingernails on his silk shirt.
At Spike's look, Gunn held up his hands. "I know, I know but man he was the best I could get on such short notice. Just be patient with him ‘please’. I can't afford to fly nobody out here to leprechaun-isle bad ass."
Spike growled low in his throat and stomped up the aisle. He'd hated Lindsey on sight not because he was an artsy-fartsy 'I am God' type, but because of the look the little fucker had given him the first time they'd met back in LA. He'd made Spike's skin crawl simply because Spike had met more than one of Lindsey's kind in the music biz.
Two seconds after Lindsey had met him Spike knew that the little wanker was undressing him with his eyes. Not only that, but he was even more sure Lindsey McDonald was trying to figure out how long it would take to get Spike to bend over for him. It wasn't going to sodding happen and Spike had made that abundantly clear.
From that point forward Lindsey and he had been at each other’s throats, driving Gunn insane with the bickering. Faith had tried to calm him down and convince him it wasn't worth it, but he wasn't having that. He'd been used enough in his life and sod it all if that little fucker’d use him.
"So how long before we get to this Connemarra?" He growled as he searched in the overhead compartment for his cigarettes.
Faith slapped Spike's leg, pointing out the window. "Road sign is right there sexy pants." Then she held up Spike's pack of cigarettes.
"Thank fuck." Gunn breathed out. "I don't get ya'll out of this bus, people are gonna get all fists and teeth."
"I'm hungry." Xander groaned standing up from his seat to glance out the window. "You think there's food any- where nearby?"
Fred giggled as she stepped into the aisle wrapping her tiny hand around Gunn's. Gunn lifted a single finger pointing it at Xander. "You are on a diet. You keep eating the way ya are an' you’re gonna damn well pop."
The bus finally came to a stop and Spike was grabbing Faith's hand dragging her down the aisle with a grin. "Charlie-boy is right…fists and teeth I need some air, pet."
As soon as his feet hit the sidewalk Spike sucked in a deep breath and looked around with wide eyes. This Connemarra looked as though it'd walked right out of ‘The Quiet Man’ not that he'd ever admit to watching that particular John Wayne movie. The main street was narrow and made of cobblestone lined with buildings that had to have been there since God shit humanity out.
Directly in front of them was a tavern, a large wooden sign hanging above the sidewalk, swaying in the cool salty breeze. Three ravens were against a blood red background, flying in a tight circle, and beneath in illuminated script were the words 'The Raven's Wing'. Spike's gaze moved up the sidewalk to see a more mod- ern addition had been added to the older portion, an inn with rows of shiny windows that rose above the peaked roof of the tavern.
"Guess this is it. Let's go see if we can find some food for our starving drummer." He moved to the front door and as his hand wrapped around the handle a chill ran down his spine.
"Did I not just say we cannot let that boy eat anything else. For god's sake, did you not see him eat all those hot wings last night? He ate a whole fucking colony of chickens---I shit you not!" Gunn's stressed voice drifted from the bus as Xander hopped out with a whoop and headed towards the tavern.
"Charles let him eat he has so very few joys in life." Fred whispered sweetly as she leaned her head against his arm.
"Yeah, cause I sure as hell ain't givin him shit in the way of joy." Faith snarked back.
A split second after Faith spoke Oz's green tipped head popped out the back window of the bus. "Here already?" Almost as quickly as he appeared Oz vanished. A few more seconds passed, then he and Willow came bouncing off the bus, Willow giggling and adjusting her blouse.
"Food is of the good...of the very good." She darted around Spike and pushed the door open giggling, Oz hot on her trail.
Spike just stood there staring at the door as it closed behind them. He couldn't quite place the feeling, but this place seemed familiar somehow. His gaze moved down the quiet street and off in the distance he could see what appeared to be a steep hill. Crumbling rocks were outlined by the sun that hung low in the afternoon sky, giving them an ethereal glow. Something was strange, he thought, something was very strange about this place and the sooner he had a mug of Guinness in his hand the better.
"Well go in Blondie the door will not open for you---no matter how big your ego is." Faith cheekily opened the door with a flourish and bowed at the waist. "After you your majesty…"
Shaking his head, Gunn escorted Fred inside muttering beneath his breath. "I don't get nearly enough money for this shit."
"You own the record label ‘and’ manage Charles. You’re paid better than most of us." Fred giggled.
Gunn grinned his dark eyes sparkling. "Oh, yeah that's right."
Shaking his head as if he were waking from a dream Spike looked up at Faith. "Yeah...right then, pet." With a final glance at the distant hill, he moved into the warm smoky darkness of the tavern.
***
Inside 'The Raven's Wing' was the epitome of the small Irish tavern seen a billion times on a billion feet of Hollywood celluloid. Dark wood, booths, and tables scattered across a stone floor, and wall fixtures that had once been gaslights, but were now electric. A long dark wood bar ran the length of the back of the room and behind it the clatter of the small kitchen could be heard, pots and pans, the sizzle of oil, and the jovial laughter of the employees.
The others had already picked a corner booth and Spike joined Faith sliding in along the polished wood bench. He fumbled in his pocket for his smokes and shook one out lighting it up with shaking hands. As he inhaled a rich brogue laden, voice spoke up.
"Welcome to 'The Raven's Wing'. Me name would be Ian and since me lazy employees have not a care in the world I'll be taking care of you. Now what can I be gettin' you lovely lasses and lads this afternoon?"
Spike looked up into a pair of sharp blue-green eyes set in a weathered face, and topped by a shock of snow- white hair. "Do you have Guinness?"
"Do we have Guinness?" The man raised a snowy brow. "Now what kind of tavern would we be without a good stout?" He chuckled softly as he whipped a pad from his white apron pocket and began scribbling on it.
"As long as you don't have green beer I'm good. But if you have wings or ribs or something with a lot of meat on it I want that." Xander chimed in.
"And if you can…make that big flabby meat low fat meat." Gunn patiently growled. "I'll have a burger with cheese if you can do it. Everywhere I go I can't seem to get a damn cheeseburger. I like your country, man, but I want a damn cheeseburger. What do you want baby?" He turned to smile at Fred.
"Ummm...cheese fries if you got ‘em and a cherry coke do you have cherry coke here?"
Ian continued to scribble, then glanced up with a twinkle in his eye. "Okay now let's get this all straight. For the two lads it'll be burger platters, for the lass a platter of chips with a side of cheddar sauce and a Coke with cherry syrup." He turned to Spike, an odd look in his eyes. "And just a Guinness for you lad?"
"A burger sounds nice..." Spike mumbled looking quickly away and studying the smoldering tip of his cigarette as if it held the secrets of the universe.
"And for you lass?" Ian nodded at Faith.
"You got steak old man?" Faith winked. "Just kidding you’re hot for a old guy, but seriously you have steak? I want a thick one well done with some steak sauce. A girl's gotta have her meat if you know what I mean."
Xander opened his mouth. "If you want…"
Faith picked up her butter knife pointing it at Xander. "If you finish that sentence I will cut out your tongue and have him cook that instead fat ass."
Xander clamped his mouth shut. "Thought so." Faith chuckled, putting the knife down.
Chuckling at the conversation Ian nodded his head. "Steak you'd be wantin' then steak it is. I'll be back with your drinks in a wee moment."
Disappearing into the kitchen behind the bar Ian's voice could be heard calling out their order, then a few seconds later he was puttering behind the bar getting their drinks. Spike's gaze wandered up the yellowed plaster walls to where black and white photos hung in wooden frames. Most of the pictures were of local villagers over the years and locations that Spike assumed were places through out village. Suddenly he stopped and turned to Faith.
"Where the bloody hell are Oz and Red?"
"In da bafroom." Xander said around a mouthful of roll.
"Oh, no…see that's just gross and half the reason why I'm concerned about you Xan man." With disgust, Gunn pulled the roll from Xander's mouth.
"Hway..." Xander whined around the piece still in his mouth.
"Stop." Gunn said firmly. "Just stop speaking."
Xander managed to pout while chewing as Fred covered her mouth to stifle the laughter she couldn't help it. She really adored Xander so much. She found him endlessly adorable.
"And the boy manages to wonder why he ain't got no girl." Faith grumbled mystified.
Spike stood up as he rolled his eyes. "I'm going to the can if anyone cares...be right back."
Making his way to the small alcove where the bathrooms were Spike rolled his eyes again when he saw Willow and Oz against the wall making out like it was the end of the world. "You two need to cool your sodding jets. Plenty time for snogging later."
Willow looked up with a flushed face and pushed Oz off. "Sorry...you know Oz...All animal."
"Yeah." Oz's neon green head bobbed as he grabbed Willow's hand dragging her back out to the table.
Once he was alone Spike took a deep breath and headed for the bathroom. That was when he noticed the archway leading into another room. Without a second thought, he wandered into the room to find it lined with glass cabinets along the walls. In the cabinets were framed drawings and paintings. Some were done in inks, watercolors, and even charcoal. The artist whoever they were was incredibly talented even if the subject matter was a bit on the depressing or morbid side depending on how you looked at it. Cemeteries, ruins of cathedrals, castles, and what looked to be burial mounds. The detail, composition, light, and shadow---it was perfect.
"He's great isn't he?"
Spike turned to see a girl maybe no more than sixteen or seventeen standing in the doorway, wide darkly lined blue eyes stared from beneath flowing blonde hair with blood red streaks hung down her back.
"Who is he?" Spike whispered softly feeling like he was in church during Sunday mass.
"Angel." The young girl moved to a particularly detailed charcoal of a gravestone. Her slim fingers traced the detail. "He's a local artist made the big time, but most of the villagers don't get him."
"That right? And what's your name, luv?"
"Tara...and you’re Spike."
Spike's brows rose. "How'd you know my..."
"You're the lead singer of 'The Lost'. ‘Course me and Jessie are probably the only ones in this godforsaken town that know who you and your band are. Not many Goths or Punks out here in the middle of nowhere."
"Got that right, pet." Spike turned to go. "Well thanks for the..." he motioned at the artwork, "...need to go finish what I started to do." He moved out of the small quiet room and into the hall.
***
"So I told Spike you know…steadier drum beats for the song. ‘Cause it would so kick ass with his soft vocals like mellowing out the audience. It's like his favorite song and I ‘so’ helped him write it." Xander preened proudly as he talked to the young tall boy standing at their table.
"If I had a twenty for every time I had to hear this story I would be richer." Gunn yawned.
Oz glanced up as Spike wandered back from the bathroom. "So Xander what was that about writing 'Whispering Eyes'?" He grinned then went back to nibbling on Willow.
Xander coughed when he saw Spike. " I didn't say 'write' I said 'helped'."
"Well, I just love the song. You know seeing eyes in your dreams. Eyes that haunt and tempt you, that lure and make you lust for the person they belong to. I just think it's so erotic and romantic. To not see a face or a body just eyes and fall so deeply." Fred sighed happily. "I love that song so much."
Faith nodded leaning back and propping her knee up on the table. "I told him he had to have been high when he wrote it but he kept insisting he was completely straight laced at the time but couldn't think of the inspiration. Fucked up if you ask me but hey whatever sells records."
"Dreams...Faith...are all the bleedin' inspiration I need." Spike snorted flopping into the booth. "So Xander..." he winked at Faith, "...how stoned were you when you 'helped' me with the song?"
"Unless I was high on Twinkies than nadda my good buddy." Xander grinned.
"Well..." Spike drawled out, "...I do remember a couple of boxes of Twinkies. So I'm thinkin' you were pretty well sugar-stoned." Glancing at the strange boy Spike grinned. “So, who's your new 'love' interest Harris?"
"Spike eww...okay? Just because you swing every way including livestock does not mean I have to and his name is Jesse and he's related to the bar owner." Xander glanced up at Jesse. "You ‘can’ say hi to him he is human we've checked."
"You must be Tara's friend." Spike grinned as he lit another cigarette. "So tell me Jesse...what is there to do in this town?"
"Not a damn thing other than watchin' the grass grow an' ta sheep fuck this town is borin' as all shite." Jesse answered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
"Not surprising..." Spike mused as Ian approached the table with drink and food in tow. "Was just wondering."
Ian's snowy brows rose as he eyeballed Jesse. "I hope me grandson ain't botherin' you folks." He began setting platters and glasses in front of each of them. "The lad has a right nasty habit of gettin' his arse in trouble."
"But he fails ta mention it's only cause I wear black an listen ta punk, an Goth, an therefore must be a dirty evil sinner. That and I talk ta Angel who is like ta town’s spooky person extraordinare."
"Well, I just think it's dandy. I like different cultures and personalities I think it rounds the world right out. But then my parents were always open to letting me be well...open." Fred mused.
Spike almost choked on his stout at the boy mentioning Angel. "You talk to him? The artist that did the work in the back?" For some reason he was drawn to this man, he'd never met. The beauty of his art had spoken to Spike on so many levels, some that he didn't even understand.
Jesse grinned from ear to ear, happy to have some ground from which he could talk to a rock star on. Spike was new to the music circuit he and his band but Tara and himself just loved The Lost. "Aye I do he's really a nice fella' when you get past the broody persona an’ his real quiet side. But then he's talkative with some like me an' Tara, grand-da…oh an' his best friends Doyle an’ Wes. I don't much like Wes though he's stuffy and borin’."
Ian smacked the back of Jesse's head his brow furrowing. "Now boyo don't you be talkin' about a man's friends in such a way. Wesley is nice despite his odd manners. ‘Course you bein' English..." he nodded at Spike, "...know how the upper crust can be. No insult intended, lad."
"None taken." Spike sipped his stout with a thoughtful expression.
Jesse rubbed the back of his head. "Any ways he's taking photos today. Angel…I mean. Maybe you'll see him."
"So is there anything here that isn't wood?" Lindsey drawled walking up to the table. "I found our ruins so when you bunch can find the time to get your asses moving we can proceed. I do really miss my bed."
Swallowing back the rest of his drink Spike stood glaring at Lindsey. "Me arse is moving..." he headed for the door, then paused, "...not that me arse is any of your business." Pushing through the door Spike disappeared.
Oz glanced at Willow with a raised brow. "Interesting comment."
"Spike's just...well..." Willow paused as if deep in thought. "He's just strange...yeah...he's always about the strangeness."
"No darling Spike is just a tight ass who won't give it up. He thinks he's made of gold. Now if ya'll could follow his lead I have a music video to shoot." Lindsey coldly snapped as he turned following behind Spike.
"DAMN!" Faith spit out. "He's gonna get a ass beatin' someday and I'm bettin' on me doing it."
"No. Because then we have, lawsuits, suing, money lost, and I like my money Faith. Now go on let's get him out of our hair and our lives ASAP---yeah? Before Spike beats ya’ to ta’ killin’ him." Gunn stood, tossing the cash for the bill on the table.
Xander pointed to the leftover food. "Do you think maybe you could...uh pack this up?"
Nodding Ian quickly went back to the kitchen and returned with a Styrofoam container. Packing up the leftovers, he smiled as he shook his head. These American's could be quite vulgar at times, he thought.
"This Lindsey..." he paused as he straightened wiping his hands on his apron, "...I'd be keepin' an eye on him if I were you. He doesn't seem a very nice lad."
Faith patted Ian's back picking up the container of food. "That's because he isn't slick. A man jilted is a bitter man." Then Faith stood on her tiptoes whispering in Ian's ear. "And maybe watch your grandson. Lindsey don't hold much issue with age he just likes 'boys'."
With a pat to his back once more Faith skipped backward out of the bar. Fred waving at Ian followed Gunn and the rest of the group out of the bar.
~Part: 2~
Ten minutes on the bus and they were turning off the main road onto what appeared to be an overgrown driveway. A few feet off the main road were the remains of a crumbling stone wall and either side of the overgrown driveway were two large weather worn pillars an arch of wrought iron metal connecting the two with letters that spelled out 'St. Brigid Asylum'.
Spike hung out the bus window staring up at the rust splotched metal, puffing on what had to be his tenth cigarette since they had hit the outskirts of Connemarra. An odd expression crossed his face as he slid back in flopping on the seat as Gunn told the driver to head on up the road. Distantly he heard the driver mumble a reply.
"You'd better be payin' me a good sum. Riskin' me soul to go into this place."
Spike raised and eyebrow as the bus surged forward. These Irish, he thought, even this man who Gunn had hired out of Dublin were a superstitious lot. It was a just a ruin nothing more and nothing less. Flicking his butt out the window, he began picking at his nails his thoughts a million miles away.
"Righteous." Faith breathed out. "I think we hit pay dirt Blondie."
"It's creepy." Xander gave the ruins a creeped out look.
"Well I think it's just pretty. A piece of history right there a story behind the walls I love history." Fred rattled on as she studied the ruins with an awe struck gaze.
Gunn grinned, rubbing Fred's back. "That's my girl."
Rolling his eyes, Lindsey sighed. "I don't care what it is as long as your highness says yes. I want to shoot this damn video and go home. I've had enough of this rag tag group of wanna-be's to last me a lifetime."
The bus rattled up the overgrown road and into what had once been a courtyard coming to a stop that jarred the teeth of every occupant. Without a word Spike stood and walked down the aisle even foregoing his usual sharp reply to Lindsey's bitchiness. Stepping from the bus the others on his heels he lit up another cigarette and walked silently across the courtyard side stepping weeds, the wind from the sea stirring the dried grass.
His gaze traveled up the crumbling walls coated with moss and ivy with an intensity he usually reserved for writing. Once upon a time, the building had stood a full three stories, but now the blackened stone only stood in sporadic spots at that height. Empty windows stared down at the courtyard like haunted soulless eyes, some still holding the remains of heavy iron bars and rotting wooden frames.
"So...luv..." he turned to Faith his eyes sparkling, "...what do ya think? Got potential?"
"It's wicked cool." Faith wrapped her arm around Spike's waist, giving him a squeeze. "Please tell me you agree. ‘Cause this place rocks my non-existent under- wear Spike."
Spike turned in Faith's arms and gave her his best 'I'm sex on a soddin' stick' smile. "Non-existent?" His grin widened even further. "I'd say so far so good, luv." He glanced back at the others noting Fred's excited grin, Xander's nervous spooked expression, and finally Lindsey's indifferent snobbery.
Turning to Gunn, he raised an eyebrow. "So Charlie what we waiting for? Let's go exploring!" Letting out a wild whoop, Spike headed for the front doors and disappeared into the shadows.
Gunn let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you Jesus…you are a good soul brother." He turned glancing at Lindsey. "I think it's safe to say you can have your people unpack their stuff."
"Oh, well…of course…because Princess likes." Lindsey emphasized the word ‘Princess’ as he as turned away to call his crew.
"I don't care about money loss G man. That boy is getting my foot up his ass at some point." Faith cracked her knuckles as she watched Lindsey saunter off.
Xander nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I'll help bury the body."
"Hey you wankers! Come on and get with the program!" Spike popped his head out a second floor window, grinning wide. "This place is bleedin' incredible..." his voice faded out as he disappeared back into the shadows.
Faith shrugged, then grinned, running inside Xander following close behind her. Taking Fred's hand, Gunn helped her over a pile of rubble and followed the others.
Inside the rubble and destruction were worse. Shattered windows lay everywhere, scattered bits of jagged glass in deathly colors. Big piles and blocks of what used to be walls laying among the remains of tables, chairs and god knew what else. It was horrifying and totally mystifying at the same time.
Peering around a crumbling wall Spike grinned as Faith walked past totally consumed by the place. He knew from the look on her face that this was the place. There was now doubt of it. He took a deep breath as Xander wandered by and his eyes began to sparkle with wickedness. Xander was a good bloke, he thought, but he couldn't help messing about with him. Leaping from his dark hidey-hole, he grabbed Xander and let out a bellow.
"BOO!!!"
"HOLY SHIT!!" Xander screamed his arms flailing as his knee shot straight up.
"Oh, damn this is gonna hurt." Gunn winced, closing his eyes.
With a grunt, Spike fell to his knees panting and cradling his balls. "Bloody fuckin' Christ..." he looked up at Xander, "...you crushed me soddin' balls you twit!" His eyes narrowed as tears of pain trickled from his eyes.
"WELL YOU JUST DON'T DO THAT IDIOT!!" Xander wailed his body still rigid and curled up looking like a frozen kung-fu fighter.
Faith came around the corner stopped, froze then bent over her face turning purple as she started laughing. Her laughter was loud and hard, the sound echoing off the crumbled walls making it sound creepy like something out of a horror movie.
"Laugh it up, pet." Spike stumbled to his feet. "Wasn't your balls the wank..." his words trailed off as his gaze settled on a doorway that stood at the back of the room.
He could have sworn he saw something. Taking a trembling step forward, he peered through the doorway a frown creasing his brow.
"Oh now come on Spikey." Xander cooed patting Spike's back as he looked through the door. "You’re the one who scared me. Call it fate evening everything out."
Fred chuckled softly. "It was funny."
"Can I open my eyes now?" Gunn questioned the group; his eyes still closed tight.
"Yes, Charles it's safe now." Fred giggled.
Gunn opened his eyes taking a deep breath, then jumped nearly out of his skin. "WHAT THE FUCK?"
"WHAT?" Xander jumped grabbing onto Spike's arm for dear life.
Moving into the doorway Spike stood utterly still, frozen, as he cocked his head. A faint sound drifted to his ears---the sound of weeping. He blinked and stepped into the room beyond the door and out into the fading light of the afternoon. This part of the building seemed older somehow, as if it had been here for countless centuries.
A narrow path on the stone floor led like an aisle to what was an alcove of some type. The stone walls were covered with moss and the afternoon light glimmered on the damp stone. Spike's eyes lit up as he saw the arched window on the back wall. It seemed to be the one thing that had survived the fire.
It was a stained glass window depicting a young woman garbed in black, a halo around her head, and a staff in the crook of her arm, in one hand she held an oil lamp. Shaking his arm free of Xander’s grip he moved closer studying the window with wide eyes.
Most of the colors were simple basic and dark---black, white, and red. The late afternoon sun caused the red to shimmer and deepen to a vibrant scarlet that stretched out on the floor like pools of fresh blood.
"This is it..." he whispered, then yelled over his shoulder. "Hey you wankers! Come here!"
His eyes never left the stained glass window, as he stepped closer, all thoughts of the sound he'd heard earlier forgotten. Besides they were by the sea, it was just a gull or the wind, he thought. Xander and Faith ran into the room and stopped dead. Xander's mouth fell open and Faith whistled.
"Hot damn Blondie I think you found our spot."
Gunn walked in seconds later and leaned against the crumbling doorway. "It does look the part. What say you Mr. Band Leader?"
"I'd say every one agrees Charlie-boy." Spike grinned at Gunn as he turned around. "So should we have a vote or is it unanimous?" He fished out his cigarettes shaking one free and lighting it. "You okay Charlie?" He frowned. "Lookin' a bit pale arsed around the gills for a brother."
Gunn shrugged. "I just saw...I don't know what I saw just freaked me out. Give me big skyscrapers and fucking pavement any day to this shit."
Faith popped her head out the door yelling for the rest of the group. "So have a gander what do you say?"
"I think it's just wonderful." Fred mused looking around her hands grazing the walls as she walked down towards the window. "I mean this place must be well over three or four hundred years old."
"Actually." A deep voice boomed from outside the door making everyone nearby by jump three feet off the ground and turn. "It's older…ta last recorded evidence dates it back to ta thirteen hundreds. So it would be seven hundred an' that's just this part you’re standing in." The figure smiled then pointed inside. "Can I jus' squeeze in?"
Spike's eyes widened as the stranger stepped through the door and his breath caught in his throat. He'd never seen a man as beautiful as this one and he'd seen a number of men in his life.
His face was ageless enough that he could have been anywhere between twenty and thirty. He was tall at least six foot with a bit more attached, a black thick knitted sweater stretched over broad shoulders that lead down into narrow hips clad in faded, worn jeans.
The jeans fit perfectly to the curve of the muscled thighs that seemingly stretched into the longest legs Spike had ever seen. He jerked his head up looking into the man's deep mahogany eyes beneath a wide brow. His nose was a bit broad, but not to much so and beneath was a wide smile that flashed a gleam of pearly white teeth behind thin, yet perfectly shaped lips, the lower just a bit fuller than the upper. His jaw was firm and square with a strong chin dusted with the beginnings of a five o' clock shadow.
A knot formed in Spike's belly as he stepped down the two steps to the bigger portion of the room. That was when he noticed the heavy camera bag looped over the man's broad shoulder and the camera dangling from around his neck. He opened his mouth, but for some reason, not a sound came out. For the first time in his short life, Spike found himself speechless as he wondered if the dark thick spiked hair was as soft as it looked like it was.
The man smiled at Spike then turned looking at the bigger group pointing back towards him. "Is he alright?"
Faith licked her lips looking the man up and down. "If he's thinking what I'm thinking it goes along the lines of oh my god big dark and luscious."
The man chuckled. "The name’s Liam nay big dark and luscious, but I thank ye never ta less."
"Oooh…it's so Irish." Fred whispered with childish glee.
"Aye, lass it is but tha’ would be ‘cause I am Irish lass." Liam’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
"Irish with a camera. You’re not a reporter are ya because you’re not authorized to be here if you are." Gunn pushed off the wall, prepared to protect and serve.
"Nay, I'm not." Liam’s voice filled with amusement.
"Now…now kiddies let's not be all judgmental." Lindsey drawled as he moved into the room, walking slowly towards Liam. "He looks harmless enough." His eyes raked over Liam's form.
"Name's Spike..." Spike stepped forward not so subtly pushing Lindsey out of the way. "And your name is Liam..." he drawled Liam's name out his tongue darting out to flick across his lips. "So if you ain't a reporter, then what's with the camera?" He raised his left brow, the tiny silver bar winking as he pushed his lower lip out in a seductive pout.
Oz popped through the door with Willow in tow. "Hey...we're here? Why didn't you guys tell us?"
Gaze settling on Liam, Willow blushed, her sneakered toe poking at imaginary rocks. "He's cute..." she giggled, "...all with the tall, dark, and mysterious."
Eyes narrowing thoughtfully Oz cleared his throat. "Definitely tall..."
"Spike." Liam repeated his eyes now skirting over Spike taking in the lithe body that seemed to curve and flow in all the right spots.
His hair was brilliantly white and spiked up in tufts about his head. His skin nearly matched his hair in its paleness so white and soft looking. To Liam he was exquisite in form good enough to draw Liam mused. However, the most striking of his features was all in his face.
The chiseled fine sharp cheekbones, the full pouty lips, and the scar across the left eyebrow. The scar didn't take away, but only seemed to add to the face. Then finally there were the eyes. Those eyes had stunned and broke many a heart down of that Liam had no doubt. Blue…blue depths like a deep, clear ocean, a pretty sky on a bright sunny day, or like silk sheets on a bed.
Those eyes were trouble.
Lifting his camera Liam looked through the lens in the guise of taking a picture of the window and clicked a fast picture of Spike then lowered it. "I'm takin’ pictures of the ruins I'm a photographer…an artist. I take pictures then use them in me studio as a reference guide. Beats standing out in ta Irish weather all the time."
"Very nice." Lindsey purred. "Very…very nice."
Suddenly it clicked in Spike's brain and he felt like kicking himself---the art in the tavern. Stepping around Liam, he whispered softly. "You're Angel..." his tone was soft, seductive, and inviting. "Saw some of your work at 'The Raven's Wing'."
Liam turned with him, watching him closely as he did. "Yeah, that's the name I go by when I sell me work. I wanted to give meself a bit of freedom. Well, that and me manager thought it would be exotic considerin’ what I draw. Anyway it's a family nickname me sister an’ me mother used to call me an' me brother---their little angel's. My brother never liked it so I'm the only one it stuck with." Liam stilled giving Spike a serious expression. "You've seen me work? What did ye think?"
Raising a brow Spike smiled. "It was beautiful... haunting..." he let the words linger in the cool air. "It calls out to the soul..." he whispered softly, licking his lips.
Liam nodded thoughtfully watching Spike’s tongue poke in and out. "Thanks it's me passion ye know."
Faith watched all this with curious eyes. It was hyp- notic watching the two bodies drift closer and closer to one another. She tilted her head wondering if they knew they were doing it. She wondered if it was just the room or something much stronger.
Whispering, Faith tilted her head back towards Willow. "Red?"
Jerking out of her thoughts, Willow grinned at Faith and patted Oz's shoulder, before wandering to Faith.
She leaned in whispering in Faith's ear. "They're pretty together." Pulling away, she smiled at Faith wider, then her gaze drifted to Spike and Liam. "Like night and day."
"Passion is important..." Spike flicked his tongue out again this time enough to reveal a glimpse of the tiny silver ball that pierced it. "My passion is writing songs, pet. We all have to have passion in our lives."
"Good you saved me the hassle. I love it when you’re in my head Red." Faith commented softly as she pulled Gunn to her. "Think we can sabotage some stuff so Spike can get real anal and this shoot takes longer?"
"Why?" Gunn raised a brow warily.
"Because haven't you ever heard the term ‘boy on boy loving makes a girl go yay’?"
"Good god Faith."
"Just work something out---yeah?" Faith replied with a wink, then headed towards the two men.
Liam swallowed as his eyes settled on the tongue stud, then snapped his head up. One hand drifted up behind his neck to scratch nervously. "Ye write songs?"
"Yes." Lindsey pushed in front of Liam "They have aspirations of being a famous band. Spike boy here writes and sings the songs. Childish really, but whatever pays my bill."
Liam frowned. "An ye are?"
"Lindsey McDonald." Lindsey purred smoothly, holding out his hand.
Liam just stared at the offered hand. "Ah…I meant in ta band?"
Lindsey laughed. "Oh, god no…I'm the director for their little music video. I wouldn't be caught dead in the band."
"Then maybe you shouldn't bloody well be caught dead doin' the video you wanker!" Spike snapped his warm eyes suddenly going ice cold. "After all...childish and all. Wouldn't want to ruin your rep for being the biggest whore-monger in LA."
Lindsey turned eyeing Spike. "Oh come on now sugar. Don't be bitter I still love ya."
Faith sighed, grabbing Lindsey’s arm and dragging him out of the room. "Okay…that's it. Let’s go get your shit so you can do more directing and less of imitating a pig."
Watching them go Liam coughed, then turned back, lifting his camera. "Well, I better do what I came ta do an get out of yer way."
"Not in the way, luv." Spike turned back to Liam smiling warmly again. "Sorry about that...Lindsey is a thorn in everyone's side, but mine especially."
He trailed after Liam watching as he snapped photos. Pausing he glanced down to notice for the first time what appeared to be crosses embedded in the stone floor. Squatting down he traced a finger along the edge of one studying it.
"These are beautiful..." he whispered thoughtfully. "Can't quite figure why some one would put a beautiful thing like this in the floor though. You'd think they'd put it in the wall so a bleedin' person could admire it."
"They're grave markers." Liam quietly replied, looking down to where Spike was tracing the cool stone. "Monks are buried underneath. This used ta be a monastery before it was an asylum. It was probably lots of things before it burnt down."
Jerking back as if the stone burnt his finger Spike lost his balance and fell back in sprawled pile with a yelp. "What the bloody hell would they do that for?"
“There’d be a lot of reasons for it, desecration being a main one. But sometimes ‘twas easier to bury inside rather than out." Liam mused as he aimed his camera at the grave markers, clicking a few pictures.
Gunn watched curiously, as Liam wandered the room taking pictures and then a thought dawned on him. Stepping forward, he spoke up. "You look pretty handy with a camera."
Glancing up Liam grinned. "Well, aye it is one of me chosen professions."
"Yeah…yeah you’re a regular smart ass. Listen we had a slip up when we booked this trip. It was supposed to be a video and a publicity shoot, but somebody messed up back at headquarters. We ended up only having the video director and no photographer. Since your apparently famous and all do you, think I can hire you to take the band’s photos? Name a price and we can haggle it out---I'm pretty fair."
Liam's brows scrunched together. "It's not something I usually do…well I never have done it. I just mainly do sites and locations not people."
Motioning towards Spike as if he was telling Liam he knew he’d took a picture of him, Gunn grinned. "But ya can."
"Aye…I can." Liam answered.
"So will ya at least think it over. I can give ya my card with my cell number so you can think it over and get back to me."
Sucking his bottom lip in Liam paused as if in thought.
Spike slowly stood up and walked to where Liam stood. He studied the man for a moment, then spoke softly so he wouldn't startle him. "You know Charlie's right. You got the right kind of eye for what we want. Ain't like we're some little teenybopper, boy band. We're a goth-punk band and we need someone with your talent to make us look good." He paused scratching behind his ear, then smiled. "You could show Lindsey what a real artist is, pet."
Glancing up at Gunn, then at Spike, he was silent for a moment longer, then nodded. "Alright…but I need ta talk to me agent first he doesn't like it much when I take jobs without discussing them wit' him first. He takes his job seriously."
"Goody." Fred clapped.
Smiling Spike patted Liam on the arm. "Great then... talk to him and we can get this soddin' show on the road."
Wandering in from one of the other rooms, Oz looked up at the others with overly bright green eyes. "Hey Spike...look what me and Willow found."
Spike turned and chuckled at the sight of Willow and Oz smudged with dirt. "Been christening the place in your own special way?"
Raising and eyebrow Oz grinned. "Could say that." He lifted his hand. Dangling from his fingers was a heavy chain tarnished almost black and what appeared to be something round and heavy hanging from it. "It's a watch...we think."
Taking the object from Oz, Spike rubbed his fingers along the dirt-encrusted surface. "I'd say you're right. Looks old..." his eyes focused on the watch taking on a distant expression.
"Well, considerin’ where it's home was I would gather it is old." Liam answered over his shoulder as he wandered to the window. Bringing up his camera to his eye he focused the lens, then began snapping photos of Saint Brigid.
Faith strolled in a frown on her face. "Guys according to Mr. ‘High and Mighty’ it's getting too dark to start anything tonight. We’ll need to find a place to stay so we better get back to town."
"Sounds good, luv." Spike snapped out of his reverie, stuffing the watch in his pants pocket. "There's an inn next to 'The Raven's Wing'...saw it earlier. Suppose we could get some rooms there, Liam? Ain't exactly like tourist season is it?" He chuckled as he headed back to bus.
Willow trailed after him hand in hand with Oz. "Yeah... a big fluffy bed sounds good. Lots of feathery good- ness."
"Nay…it's not. You should be able ta get a room jus' fine." Liam began packing his camera up, following close behind.
Faith wrapped her arm over Xander's shoulder, pulling his head close to her. "Come on piggy…time to get you out of the spook rubble."
A bogus pout on his face Xander began to lower his head to Faith's breasts. "Oh…it's terrible…I'm so scared."
"Oh, god." Faith whined pushing Xander's head back up. "Don't push it Harris."
"Sorry…sorry."
"Gonna get your balls surgically removed if you keep it up Harris!" Spike yelled over his shoulder as he moved up the steps into the bus. He paused and turned eyeing Liam and the way he moved in the fading twilight. "You need a lift, luv?"
Liam shoved his hand in his pocket pulling out a key ring with a remote on it. Grinning he pushed it causing a set of headlights to flare to life on the nearby hill. The bright lights revealed a brand new, jet-black, Ford Mustang.
"No thanks." He called over his shoulder. "I think I got it." Opening the door Liam slid smoothly into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind him, and pulled out the hum of the engine a purr as he zoomed by throwing one last look Spike’s way.
"Yeah..." Spike sighed, as he watched the car disappear into the darkness, "...you got it, pet. You most definitely got it." Then he turned trudging to the back of the bus and flopping in his seat.
Faith plopped down beside Spike in the seat. "So Blondie…what has Mr. Wonderful got---huh? A nice car? A good job? Talent? Perhaps a breathtaking accent? You know I'm just curious."
Lighting a cigarette, he held out the pack. "Fag?" He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh and all of the above, luv."
"I don't know." Faith chuckled, taking the pack of cigarettes. "You tell me are you one now? Totally decided to swing for one team now that you’ve met Mr. ‘Good God please take me home and fuck me’?"
Snorting Spike grinned. "Who said I wasn't one all along? I mean after all I thought you were luscious and you're as butch as they come."
Raising a brow Faith slid a cigarette between her lips and searched her pockets for a lighter. "And that Blondie is why we stopped boinking. You my bad ass are not a nice boy. Oh and the sex was messing up our Friday ‘movie’ nights and our Saturday ‘make fun of idiots at the gas station’ fun." Faith lit her cigarette blowing a smoke ring upward.
Xander turned around glancing over the seat at Faith. "I'll treat you good. I'll take you out to dinner. I'll give you baths. I'll feed you. I'll…"
Faith smacked Xander in the face and grinned as he grabbed his nose. "Oww!"
Looking over at Spike Faith shrugged. "You know what I am butch. Don't know what I was thinkin’."
"See told ya..." Spike snarked as the bus lurched forward, heading back to Connemarra.
~Part: 3~
Liam pulled into the driveway pressing the garage door opener attached above the air vents by the stereo. The door slowly lifted as Liam drove in shutting off the engine. Getting out he moved to the access door to the main house pressing the button next to it the garage door closing on the night. Two other cars he recognized were parked in his garage, their presence alone made him instantly stiffen with alarm. Reaching into his pocket for the house keys, he unlocked the door, and rushed inside calling out---his camera bag bouncing on his shoulder.
"PRINCESS?! PRINCESS WHERE ARE YOU?!"
A soft lyrical child like voice drifted from out of the kitchen. "In here..."
Liam slipped his camera bag off his shoulder, setting it on the table by the door, and ran into the kitchen stopping in shock at what he saw. He covered his mouth to keep the laugh at bay, but it escaped between his words. "Princess? Why is Doyle covered in flour?"
A large pair of wide dark eyes peered up at Liam from a china doll face, then Drusilla ran around the counter laughing softly as she pulled Liam into a hug. Glancing up at him, she giggled softly. "Uncle Francis promised ta make Miss Edith and I some sweet biscuits."
Doyle rolled his eyes. "Was more like Miss Edith decided to make biscuits, then did na' like it when Uncle Francis told Drusilla to clean up the mess that she'd made." He moved around the counter dusting flour off the bright yellow apron he wore. "Next time ya be needin' a sitter boyo warn 'em about Miss Edith and her temper tantrums would ya?"
Chuckling Liam hugged his younger sister tight to his chest. Drusilla was sixteen, but special---very special-- in a good way. Liam never once thought of her situa- tion as bad.
When Drusilla had been born, there were difficulties with her birth. During labor, she’d been deprived of oxygen, when the umbilical cord had wrapped around her neck. The lack of oxygen had caused some minor brain damage. Drusilla survived, but they’d lost their mother that day. Gladis O'Brien died in childbirth leaving Liam, his brother Ewan and the newborn Drusilla motherless. Their father had been devastated, but he’d tried his best until he’d passed from a heart attack eight years ago.
Liam had made it his personal job ever since to take care of his sister to the full extent of his power and had not once failed in that task. Drusilla and he were as thick as thieves were and he loved her immensely.
"Me dear Princess where would Consuela be an’ why is Doyle babysittin’ ye?"
Drusilla pouted lowering her lashes. "Miss Edith was playing in the garden and left her bucket out." She frowned as she hugged Liam tighter. "Please don't be mad angel-face..." her lower lip trembled for a moment and her eyes teared up. "Consuela tripped and twisted her ankle on Miss Edith's bucket. Mr. Consuela had to come and take her to the doctor so she called Uncle Francis." Tears rolled down cheeks as she clung to Liam, burying her face in his sweater.
Laughing softly Doyle looked up at Liam. "Tis' true...was only a little accident and Consuela was expecting you back before dark. Dru didn't mean anything by it---now did you sweetheart?"
Peering from beneath her dark hair Dru stuck her tongue out at Doyle. "Miss Edith did it."
"Of course she did Princess. Silly of Doyle ta forget such a thing. Shall we throw more flour at him?"
Bouncing on her heels, Dru drew back from Liam looking up into his eyes with a bright smile. "Oh that would be so much fun!"
"Now boyo don't be encouraging the lass." Doyle raised his hands backing away. "Besides 'm almost done cleanin' up the last mess and Wes is waitin' for ya in the library. You'd look just a wee bit weird talkin' to him with eggs in your hair---now wouldn't ya?"
Liam gave Doyle his best evil smirk, then turned to Drusilla. Lowering his mouth to her ear, he whispered softly. "Get him kitten…grrr…I'll be back soon ta see the piece of art ye create." Liam pulled back. "Have fun Doyle I'll be back shortly." He walked out a big grin on his face.
Clapping her hands Dru smiled at Doyle. "Angel-face says that Miss Edith and I may help ya Uncle Doyle."
Doyle's eyes widened as Dru inched around the island counter. "Oh damn ya to the pits of hell Liam O' Brien!" He screamed as flour hit him in the face, Drusilla's laughter filling his ears. "Now yer Miss Edith has gone an' done it!" Dru squealed in delight as Doyle took off after her, flour can under his arm, and a pocket full of eggs.
Laughing softly Liam shook his head. Doyle had been his best friend since they were wee lads here in Conne- marra. He’d always been there for him and had always been patient with him. Liam loved Doyle almost as much as he loved Drusilla they were simply that close.
As he wrapped his fingers around the handles of his library doors, opening them, Liam saw his only other best friend in the world. At least beyond his friendship with Ian McCormick the owner of ‘The Raven's Wing’ tavern and an old friend of Liam's father. There were Jesse and Tara as well the town misfits, who sometimes found him and hung out with him. However, here in front of him now was Wesley Wyndam-Pryce his only other best friend or maybe the only other person patient enough to put up with Liam's quirks and his business.
"Well…and ta what do I owe the pleasure of this visit then. I thought I would na’ see ye again for at least a week since we clashed over the fact I wanted ta draw the sight where all the nuns decided to have their decidedly non-Catholic murder spree."
Snorting softly Wesley turned from the fireplace. "As you are quite aware of by now Liam I have an endless capacity for forgiveness. Though I am not quite sure, I can say the same for Father Theodore. After all the church is not one to advertise their dirty laundry." His mouth twitched for a moment as if he were about to laugh.
"Oh, but my dear Wes that's all churches are…" Liam walked in, shutting the doors behind him. “A building filled with dirty…" he walked up to Wesley lowering his mouth to his ear, "…naughty laundry. Don't ye think?"
Wes twitched, his spine going stiff at the feel of Liam's hot breath against his ear. "What I do..." he cleared his throat, "...or do not think is irrelevant. Now must I remind you I am here about business?" Another shiver traveled down his spine as he stiffly walked away to the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. "Drink Liam?" He squeaked out.
Propping his arm on the fireplace mantle Liam chuckled. "I know why ye are here me dear friend, but yer so easy ta taunt ye shouldn't make it so easy fer me really. A drink would be divine---whiskey if ye could." Liam picked up the picture of Dru, his brother, and him. "I have some business ta discuss wit' ye as well."
Pouring a second whiskey, Wes turned and handed Liam the glass, choosing to ignore the previous discussion. "And what, may I ask, would this business be?" He adjusted his glasses and settled into one of the matching wing back chairs. As he sipped the whiskey, he studied Liam's face with a critical eye. There were times he wished he could erase the sadness from his friend’s face---times like this.
Though, he hadn't met Liam until he was nineteen the man had been through a great deal already. Losing his mother, then his father, and being estranged from his brother had taken their toll on him. Wesley could almost taste the bitterness in the air around him. The only time the bitterness wasn't there was in the presence of Doyle his childhood friend and Drusilla his little sister who was the light of his life.
Having took on the responsibility of Drusilla at eigh- teen after his father's death had been difficult to say the least. Drusilla was a special child with special needs and Liam did his best to be father, mother, and brother to the young girl, but everyone had their breaking point.
"I was offered a job." Liam sat down next to Wesley. "A photography job."
"A photography job?" Wes raised an eyebrow. "And whom would this person or persons be that are offering you this job? I do hope that you explained you do not come cheap Liam."
"I can offer me services at a cheap price if I so choose Wes. It is after all me talents an' not anyone else’s. Besides I dinna’ do much photography work. Who's ta say what I should charge. Anyway I'm afraid ta tell ye I know yer goin' ta have a fit."
"And why would I have a 'fit' about it?" Wes sat his glass aside turning so he was facing Liam.
Liam took a deep breath, downing half of his whiskey, and turned to Wes. "It's a band...a punk rock band an’ it would be doin’ publicity shots."
Leaning back in his chair Wes tapped his lip thought- fully. "Actually I'm surprised more than anything else Liam. You've never been one to do mainstream work..." he lifted a finger as if to silence Liam before he even spoke, "...and before you say anything---publicity shots? That is beneath you Liam. Why in the name of all that is holy would you wish to take photos of some 'punk' band?"
"Well…they asked nicely…" Liam started, "…and there was this boy. He canna’ be more than twenty-five I think he may be the lead singer…I dinna’ ask many questions. He seemed nice enough, as did the rest of ‘em. They were at the asylum ruins, it's where they’re goin’ ta shoot their music video."
"Oh, Dear Lord!" Wes threw his hands in the air and stood, pacing the floor. "You would possibly throw your career away over a piece of arse?!"
Enraged Liam stood from his chair. "I dinna’ say that Wesley!!"
"Didn't you?" Wes' eyes turned to blue ice. "A boy...the lead singer? Moreover, what may I ask does this 'boy' have that would lure you away? A fine tight arse that you would take great pleasure in shagging?"
"No…ye gigantic ASS!!" Liam screamed. "I dinna’ have a chance ta look at his ARSE!" He picked up his whiskey and turned away muttering. "I could na’ get past his eyes."
Suddenly Wes bit back the snide retort that started to slide of his tongue. "His eyes?" Wes whispered feeling awful for a second. "He must be something quite special to merit that comment." He stepped closer, his hand settling on Liam's shoulder. "I am sorry...I was out of line."
"Nay…’tis okay Wes. I'm perfectly aware of what ye have ta do ta keep most of me indiscretions out of the public eye. However, there's no need everyone knows I swing almost in every direction. As for if he's special...I dinna’ know Wes." Liam turned back, facing his friend. "Ye know how I am. I see beauty..." his hand lifted, caressing Wes' cheek. "I canna’ resist being drawn to it."
Sighing Wes closed his eyes, relishing the feel of Liam's warm hand against his jaw. "You my dear Liam...were always a sweet talker. I can never deny you anything." His eyes drifted open and he smiled. "If you wish to do this then who am I to deny you. Just let me know who I negotiate a contract with."
"I believe his name is Gunn. Here he gave me his card." Reaching inside his pocket, Liam took out the business card and handed it to Wesley. "Yer ta call him…well I was ta call him ta tell him me answer."
"Very well...I will contact him in the morning and tell him that you will be accepting the job." Wes smiled softly at Liam as the sound of Drusilla squealing pierced the library door. "Now I do believe that your sister could use a hand." He picked up his coat and headed for the door. "I'll let myself out Liam. Do have a good night." Then he was gone the sound of the door closing softly behind him.
"Goodnight me Wesley." Liam murmured, then sat his glass down.
Going to the doors he opened them, growling playfully at his flour caked sister and a ten times more caked Doyle. Trying to stifle the laughter bubbling up in his chest, he growled softly. "What are ye up to missy?"
Drusilla's eyes went wide an innocent. "Just baking a cake with Uncle Francis." She stuck out her lip in an attempt to pout though her flour-coated face destroyed the affect.
"She was trying to make a cake of me sorry behind." Doyle laughed at the expression in Liam's eyes. "We were just about to go for the icin'."
"Tsk…tsk now I have ta punish ye both." Liam growled in his best fake firm voice as he strolled out into the hall, rubbing his palms together.
"Like hell you will boyo!" Doyle yelped making a mad dash for the kitchen.
Drusilla ran after Doyle her laughter loud and tinkling in the air. "Come back Uncle Francis!" She cried out the skirt of her dress leaving a dusty trail of flour in the air behind her.
Laughing loudly Liam ran down the hall after Doyle and Drusilla, catching up with them before they hit the kitchen door. Grabbing an ankle each he brought them to the ground, wrestling with them until he was coated with flour, as he struggled to keep a hold on both of them.
"Oh…my…god!" Cordy hissed as her stiletto heels stopped just a few feet away from the tangled mass of flour covered limbs. "Alan Francis Doyle! Please tell me you did not get flour all over the new Calvin Klein shirt I bought you for special occasions! Because I think I will divorce you!"
A loud gulp escaped the tangled mass of limbs and Doyle struggled to sit up. "Now love...do na' be like that." His blue eyes widened in his pasty, flour covered face. "It was a emergency after all and I did na' have a chance ta change."
Dru giggled softly as she straightened her skirt out. "Auntie Cordelia...Uncle Francis was baking Miss Edith and I a cake."
"And it seems he missed the cake pan and just went straight for his new shirt instead. Does Miss Edith like Calvin Klein pretty princess?" Cordy smiled sweetly at Drusilla then flashed Doyle the glare of wifely doom.
"Oh no…sweet Cordelia lass dinna be angry wit’ him I'll buy him another shirt jus’ like that one. Now why don't ye jus’ come on down here and…" Liam grabbed at Cordy’s legs, dragging her towards the group.
"No…No…No...NO! LIAM PUT ME DOWN!! This is Dolce and Gabbana...DOLCE AND GABBANA!!!"
Cordy wailed as she was dragged, semi-struggling, into the flour covered group. She hit Liam's chest, glaring at him, which only caused him to rub his flour covered hands over her face. Of course, that earned him a death glare, but it only lasted a split second, then she started to laugh. Opening her purse she removed a tube of lipstick and popped the cap rubbing it down the side of Liam's face.
"Wa-la I always knew you would be a pretty girl Lee."
Liam smacked his lips together, then reached out snatching the lipstick from Cordy's fingers running the tip from her forehead down to her chin. "Nay. I think yer the prettier girl me dear sweet Cordy."
Giggling Drusilla snatched the lipstick from Liam's fingers and pursed her lips. "Angel-face...angel-face..." she chanted in a sing song voice, "...such a pretty angel- face!" Lifting her hand, she began drawing swirls on Liam's face giggling as she did.
Doyle curled up on his side, clutching his stomach and laughing hysterically. "Aye that he does sweet Drusilla. Face like an angel and such a pretty one." Tears of laughter ran down his face as he scuttled across the floor knowing all to good and well that he was about to be attacked.
Liam raised his brow at Doyle taking the lipstick back from Drusilla after dabbing just a tiny dot on the tip of her nose. Seeing the look on Liam’s face Cordelia sighed, then settled her hands on his shoulders, pushing herself to her feet carefully.
"Oh you just wait one minute mister before you go attacking my husband! I want to be far away first!" She then turned to Drusilla. "Come on pretty princess why don’t we girls go clean up while the boys beat upon each other. How does that sound?"
Bouncing to her feet Drusilla clapped her hands happily, then grabbed Cordelia's hand. "Auntie Cordelia can I have bubbles in my bath? I do love bubbles!"
"Now Cordy, love! Don't be leavin' me with this mad Irishman!" Doyle wailed as Liam got to his feet. "I thought you loved me!"
"Yes, pretty princess bubbles galore." Cordy answered Drusilla with a kind tone, then turned to her husband giving him a frank look. "I do love you Doyle. That's why I'm letting you be a man and fight your own battles. I can't hold your hand all throughout life snookums." Then Cordy turned away, heels clicking down the hall with a giggling Drusilla clutching her hand as they disappear around a corner.
Liam smiled brilliantly mouthing 'snookums' as he pushed the lipstick up as far as it could go, then headed towards Doyle carefully watching his every move. Eyes going wider than humanly possible Doyle scrambled to his feet.
"Ye wouldn't dare Liam O'Brien!" He shrieked and took off running.
"Aye, that I would me dear friend. I most definitely would." Liam called out as he stalked him down the hall. He could run but he knew he would catch Doyle, he'd always been able to catch Doyle, and so taunting him was far more fun. "Nay…don't be a baby Doyle ye know ye would make a pretty lass as well. Dinna fight yer inner urge ta’ belong. I understand really I do."
Doyle darted through the maze of corridors that he considered his second home. He did love Cordelia, but times like this he wished he could just stuff her in a bottle and set her afloat in the sea. Peering around a corner, Doyle grinned and darted out across the floor and came to a skidding halt outside the atrium.
Carefully he pushed the doors open and darted into the huge indoors garden. There was no way in hell that Liam was about to cover him with Black Cherry lipstick. It looked fine on his aggravating and beautiful wife, but he wasn't one for red.
Liam sighed as he turned the corner seeing the atrium door drift shut. "Why do ye always hide in the garden? All those hideous colors ye insist on wearing…ye know I always find ye among the green." He pushed the door open going inside and calling out in a sing song tone.
"Where…oh where is me wee little friend?"
Gulping Doyle scuttled beneath the tangle of wild jasmine. There was no way Liam could find him here, unless of course he was a hound with an incredible nose. The sweet scent of the blooms surrounded Doyle as he scuttled on hands and knees into the small secret hidey-hole that Drusilla had shared with him earlier tonight.
Sitting there in the darkness he tried to steady his breathing as he whispered beneath his breath. "Oh god in heaven and all the power of St. Padric...don't let that evil bastard find me. If he does I'll be scrubbing lipstick out of me ears and nose for a week."
"Now Doyle dinna hide from yer friend. Yer injuring me surely as ye ever could injure me." Liam called out in a voice filled with fake hurt. Walking down the paths in the atrium he ducked and peeked under bushes, around flowerpots, and small trees.
Without thinking, which according to Cordelia was his usual state of mind, Doyle yelled out. "A true and right friend would na' be tryin' to force feed me Cordelia's lipstick!" Suddenly he clapped his hand of his mouth. He couldn't believe he'd done that.
Glancing around he scuttled out from beneath the jasmine and then beneath the work bench his eyes darting wildly in his head, then jumped up heading for the doors that led to the patio over looking Connemarra Bay. Liam grinned wide as he saw Doyle sprint for the patio doors he knew his best friend would fall for that particular trick. Taking off at a run he beat Doyle to the door, grabbed him around the waist, and spun him around holding the lipstick up.
"Now are we goin’ do this the hard way or the easy way? I promise all I want ta do is see yer lips in a pretty shade of red."
"Not in this life time!" Doyle's arms began to flail a look of true horror crossing his face as Liam's grip tightened. "I'd rather be dunked in a vat of roastin' hops!" Despite his best to keep the look of horror serious, his lips started to twitch. "I'll not be havin' any of that on me face just for yer amusement!"
"Now Doyle I remember a time when ye wanted ta’ do nothin’ but amuse me. Marriage’s made ye borin’." Liam growled in amused annoyance. "Now come on then pucker up fer yer best friend in the whole wide world."
"Absolutely not!" Doyle howled with laughter and began squirming. "Ye do na' have to live with the Wicked Princess of Nodstrom's! She'll not let me live it down if she sees me with puckered red lips!!"
"Then we'll wash ye up before she sees it. Now quit squirmin’...that's it…" Liam brought the lipstick up cupping Doyle’s face with his other hand. "Just this side and presto." Grinning Liam stood back. "Yer a pretty lad. I do believe me thoughts on ye are changin’ Doyle or should I be callin’ ye Doylalina?" At the look on his friend’s face, Liam started to howl.
Folding his arms over his chest, Doyle pushed out his lower lip in a Black Cherry pout, as his foot tapped on the floor in annoyance. "I'll get even with ye for this Liam O'Brien! As for the thoughts you'd best be keepin' yer hands to yer self." He raised a brow then burst out laughing. "There'd better be a cold Guinness in yer ice box or I'll have ta borrow Cordelia's Hot Pink Passion for yer lovely face lass!"
Liam wiped the tears of mirth from his face with a nod, unmanly giggles escaping his lips. "Aye…there is plenty of Guinness in the fridge fer ye me friend. Plenty to drown this moment from yer memory fer weeks. I did a little stockin’ yesterday. Now give us a kiss." He puckered his lips reaching out his hands as if to pull Doyle to him.
Doyle instead of running grabbed Liam's face and planted a sloppy kiss on his forehead, then ran for the kitchen. His laughter echoed back through the atrium, as the doors slammed shut.
With a sigh, Liam smiled. "Oh me pores are goin’ ta scream fer this later."
Casually he followed behind, rolling the lipstick back down and capping it. Stuffing it in his pocket, he began to whistle. By the time he got to the kitchen, Doyle had washed the better part of flour, egg, and lipstick off his face. He was sitting in the breakfast nook with two bottles of Guinness and a bowl of pretzels. He grinned up at Liam and nodded at the sink then the table.
"Wash that sweet face me lovely lass, then sit and talk a wee bit. Yer never this light hearted unless..." he let the insinuation hang there for a second, then cleared his throat. "So who is he Liam? Canna be a local, but he has ta be here. After all ye ain't been out of Connemarra for at least a fortnight."
Liam walked to the sink squirting soap in his hand, his eyebrow raising as he turned on the water and began scrubbing his hands mesmerized by the bubbles. "Who say it's a he Doyle? It could very well be a she."
Rolling his eyes Doyle took a deep swig of the Guinness and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now Liam...I think I no ye a wee bit better than that. You react differently if it's a lass or a lad. Now quit with the blarney slinging and tell me who the lad is." He grinned from ear to ear as he took another drink.
Washing his face Liam sighed, but he knew his friend was right. With girls, he tended to be calculating and precise. Ordering flowers, buying presents, and there was candy to send. He went out of his way to impress them with romanticism. With boys, he took a sexier, tough intriguing approach. When you got right down to it boys liked the chase almost or more than girls did. They liked to have a tough sexy guy with an edge and Liam was that man without even trying. He just got a bit more intense when he found someone he wanted.
Reaching up he grabbed a hand towel from above the sink and dried off his face, then turned off the tap. He hung the towel back up and walked over sliding into a seat across from Doyle. Picking up the Guinness waiting for him, he took a swig. "He's a singer in a band a punk Goth band his name is..." Liam paused for a second, took a drink, then smoothly rolled the name off his tongue like poetry. "Spike."
"Spike..." Doyle's voice trailed off as he took another drink and reached for a pretzel. "That's an odd name--- now isn't it? And what may I ask does this 'Spike' have that causes that wee spark in yer eyes?"
"I dinna think it's his real name, but wit' what he does for his chosen profession I imagine it helps his imagine. I like it though; it's got a nice ring ta it. Plus the boy has more piercings than I've ever seen in a human being." Liam opened his mouth sticking out his tongue, then rolling it back in. "He even has that pierced. I about died in front of all his friends when I saw it. He likes to…” Liam shuddered at the memory. "He likes to lick his lips a lot. But that wasn't the only thing that drew me ta him. His voice, his body, but don't ask about his arse not like ye will cause I dinna have a gander. The main thing…the most fantastic thing was his…" Liam's finger tapped near his eye. "His eyes. He has the most beautiful, radiant, blue eyes ye’ve ever seen. They draw ye in an' they dinna let go. I could ‘ave drowned in the boy’s eyes---nearly did."
Frowning Doyle played with the label on his bottle. "This..." he waved his hand as if to explain the 'this', "...ain't like ye Liam. It's like you've been...I don't know." He reached out and popped a pretzel in his mouth chewing thoughtfully. "When did ye meet this beautiful boy of yers? You talk as if ye've been watching him forever."
"Today...ummm...just two hours ago at ta ruins when I was takin’ pictures." Liam answered, focusing intently on his beer bottle, and scratching the back of his head with his free hand. He didn't want to look into Doyle’s eyes, didn't want to see what he was thinking now. He didn't see the fuss. He was an artist. Artists thrived on passion and beauty. He was almost certain he’d have went into greater detail with a lover or fling before he’d have acted like this before---hadn't he?
"The ruins? The ruins of the asylum?" Doyle's brows almost rose into his hairline. "What did I tell ye? I canna' believe you went up there by yerself!" He stood and went to the refrigerator to retrieve two more bottles of Guinness. Trudging back to the table, he flopped down pushing one of the bottles to Liam. "I know how ye are Liam. All modern and skeptical...at least that's what ye want us to believe, but that place ain't right. Me own dad heard the banshee wailing up there when I was just a wee lad, then he died a week later."
"Well it seems all I need ta get ye off me sex life is ta talk about me odd behavior. Really ye an me brother should start a club." Liam responded dryly, downing his beer and tossing it into the nearby trash bin. Popping the cap on the next one, he tossed half of it back in one drink.
A soft snort escaped Doyle. "I did na' say that you were odd ye stupid oaf. And as far as ye brother Ewan goes the only club I'd be startin' with his arse is the 'Kicking the Shite Out of Ewan' one." He took a deep pull on his bottle and sighed. "Liam 'm not Ewan...the last thing I'd do is turn me back on ye. ‘ M not that kinda bastard...not to me friends. It's jus' that place is dangerous it ain't like ye never heard the tales when we was lads."
"I heard and I think it's shite Doyle. People die and that's that. They die an’ they don't become spirits ta haunt ye. They don't linger ta watch over ye til they feel they’re ready…they just die bottom line. I should know being as obsessed with it all as I am." Liam ran his finger around the mouth of his beer. "Been lookin’ to long fer a sign only ta be fucking denied any. Now I jus’ concentrate on the death itself." He took a long sip then leaned back looking out the kitchen’s bay window. "Ye should na’ talk about Ewan so. I can he's me brother I'm allowed me hate. But ye should na’ harbor ‘em so. I'm sure he has his reasons…god knows I'm most of them. Drusilla she suffers fer his decisions an’ tha’ I canna’ abide---it angers me so. A man of god should na’ be so judgmental especially towards his own family."
"Fine..." Doyle grumped from the other side of the table. "Ye 'ave a point. It's not me place to hate him. It bothers me that the two of ye 'ave been livin' in this town for yer entire lives and ye still do na' speak. Ain't right Liam. He should na' 'ave turned his back on Drusilla. Ain't her fault she's different." He sighed running his fingers through his thick dark hair. "I just want ye to promise me that ye'll be careful up there. Just do me that favor would ye?"
"He loves her." Liam answered quietly. "He jus' stays away because of me---it's all ‘cause of me. He hates ta look into his own face an’ see such an evil, dirty version of himself. Never mind ye have me word of honor I'll be a careful little lad after all it's jus' some pictures an a video shoot. How much trouble could it be?"
"Famous last words Liam...famous last words."
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