Where Angels Tread
By Spike SpeigelCame A Pale Rider
Angel sat in his office, still thumbing through some notes that Wesley had left before he was essentially thrown out of the hotel and any affiliation with Angel Investigations. There was word on the street that Wesley had gone to work for Wolfram and Hart, but there was no solid confirmation of that. Then again, it had been almost four months since he had seen Wesley. Unfortunately, Wesley was the least of Angel’s problems.
While he had been able to escape from his watery grave, Angel still couldn’t believe who had placed him there in the first place. Connor. His own son.
Now Angel had to deal with both his friend and his flesh and blood trying to end his existence. And why? Because he was too stubborn to forgive in the former case. Too helpless to control the events in the latter. So, Angel sat in his office, which was once Wesley’s, looking out into the lobby of the hotel. His eyes were currently locked on the woman sitting at the counter, the latest women’s magazine splayed out in front of her, most likely looking for the latest fashion and beauty tips.
It was a shame she didn’t know that those things didn’t matter to him. He only cared about what kind of person she was. Who she was on the inside. The good in her heart. But, he had to admit, when she did that thing with her hair, the way it flipped whenever she turned about quickly, that always made him smile. He wondered if it still worked. “Hey, Cordy.”
As she turned her gaze from the magazine, her lips slightly lifted into a smile, a gleam in her eye as she spoke. “Yeah?”
He waited for her body to come entirely around. And there it was. Her hair flipping gently across her forehead, Angel returning Cordelia’s smile. “Nothing. Just checking to see if you fell asleep again.”
“Again would imply that I fell asleep before.”
“Uh, what about half an hour ago?”
“That doesn’t count. I wasn’t sleeping. I was just…”
Angel finished her statement, getting ready to duck when the magazine came flying into the office. “Resting your eyes.”
A quick duck and there went the magazine. If Angel didn’t know better, he would have thought that Cordelia’s gift from the Powers was making her faster. While it had been Cordelia that had ultimately found him through the use of her new powers, she never told Angel why she had thought he was in danger. Sure, they were supposed to meet at the bluff for a conversation. But, after the incident with Connor, they never got a chance to finish the conversation. Actually, to be more accurate, they never started it.
Instead, the awkwardness remained between them while the group tried to come to grips with Wesley’s possible alliance and Connor’s unabated thirst for vengeance. They were both still out there. As long as they were, things would never calm down enough for Angel to have that conversation with Cordelia.
As the thought remained in Angel’s consciousness, the lobby door to the Hyperion swung open; with Fred and Gunn walking into the lobby. As Gunn took off Fred’s coat for her, Fred spoke. “Hey guys. We’re back.”
Angel rose from his chair, bending over quickly to scoop up the magazine from the floor. As he walked into the lobby, he gently tossed the periodical onto the counter, giving Cordelia a grin as he moved toward Fred and Gunn. “So, what happened?”
As Fred shrugged off her jacket, Cordelia moved from behind the counter. Standing next to Angel’s side, she gently elbowed him in the side for mocking her ‘attack’ against him. Fred grinned slightly at the gesture before answering Angel’s question. “Well, we found the person Cordy saw in her vision.”
Based on the tone of Fred’s voice, Cordelia knew that something was amiss. “But…”
Gunn filled in the blank as he placed the jacket onto the coat rack. “But he was a total loony. Kept on screaming about the end of the world as the orderlies tried to control him.”
Fred nodded agreement as she spoke. “It was so odd. He was so scared but as far as I could see, there was nothing wrong with the institution. But, Mr. Tweedy was certain someone was going to kill him.”
“Not just him, all of us.” Fred looked at Gunn, shooting him a grin for correcting her. “And what was that thing? With the blood?”
Fred came to Gunn’s aid. “Not a thing, Charles. A person. William the Bloody.”
The subtle smile on Angel’s face quickly disappeared as soon as he heard the name. Cordelia couldn’t believe what she had just heard. “Wait. Did you say William the Bloody?”
“Yeah. Why? Does it mean anything to you, Cordy?”
Before Cordelia could recount her brief meeting with him during her high school years, Angel interrupted. “Tell me exactly what Mr. Tweedy said about Spike.”
Gunn and Fred looked at each other quizzically before Gunn spoke. “Spike?”
“William the Bloody.”
“Oh, so you know him then.”
“In a sense.”
Gunn’s curiosity got the better of him. “In what sense?”
“In a murderous rage kinda sense.”
“Oh.”
Gunn yielded any further questions as the furrow on Angel’s forehead became more prominent, most likely because of the rage that the name had somehow brought out in him. When Angel turned to Fred, she also noticed the change in Angel’s demeanor upon hearing the name that linked back to their recent case. Angel tried his query once again, this time a bit more agitated. “Tell me exactly what you heard when you went to visit Mr. Tweedy.”
Fred looked down, trying to recollect the snippets of dialogue heard at the mental institution, so she could try and assuage Angel’s current behavior. Once she was sure of the words, she spoke. “Well, the orderlies were trying to contain Mr. Tweedy while he kept on saying that ‘He was going to kill us all.’ Then, one of the orderlies laughed, mentioning that William the Bloody was the reason why everything was happening.”
“Are you sure that’s what happened?”
Fred turned to Gunn, wanting some verification that what she said was correct. Because presently, Fred wasn’t entirely sure herself, the incident happening a bit too quickly for her to remember. Gunn chimed in, coming to Fred’s aid. “Yeah, pretty much. This William guy’s gonna kill us all. But, c’mon. One guy…”
Angel quickly turned away, walking back into the office, not waiting for Gunn to finish his statement. Cordelia followed quickly behind, concern filling her for Angel’s current emotional state. As they walked into the office, Angel grabbed his jacket, checking the pockets. He nodded to himself in affirmation as he pulled out the keys to the car while sliding into his jacket. Cordelia spoke, knowing what Angel was now thinking. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like?”
As Angel began to walk out of the office, Cordelia’s hand fell on his arm, gently pulling him toward her. Angel’s gaze fell on hers, Cordelia answering his question. “I’d say it looks like you’re going to Sunnydale to find Spike.”
“Close. I’m not going to find him. I’m going to kill him.”
“Hey. Look.” Angel frowned, his gaze still locked with Cordelia, but beginning to waver. She had that pesky habit of talking sense into him. And, right now, he didn’t want any part of it. “What if you’re wrong? You can’t just kill him because of information that came from a loony bin.”
“Mental institution.”
“You know what I mean.” Cordelia sighed, Angel’s behavior beginning to frustrate her. “I’m coming with you then.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. This is the only way I’m going to be sure you’re not going to do something stupid.”
Angel took a breath he didn’t need to calm himself before talking again. “Look. I need you here. You’re the only one strong enough to take care of things if something happens while I’m gone. There’s no way Fred, Gunn or Lorne could handle Connor if he decides to…”
Cordelia nodded, gently squeezing Angel’s forearm as she spoke. “Fine. But promise me you’ll find out all the facts before playing judge, jury and executioner. After all, it’s been a while since we’ve been back to Sunnydale. Spike might not even be there anymore.”
“Alright. I won’t kill him as soon as I see him.”
Cordelia twisted her face into a grimace, indicating that his sense of humor was off the mark.
“Fine. I’ll find out what’s going on. Then I’ll kill him.”
“That’s better.”
Angel smiled gently as he spoke. “Anyway. Buffy’s probably taken care of him by now if he’s still there.”
“Mmm, Spike.”
Their bodies moved slowly, Spike gently pushing Buffy against the closet door, his hands planted on either side of her as his lips passionately crushed against hers, Buffy sighing into his mouth, her hands barely holding onto the shirt she had taken out of the closet for Spike. His lips slowly moved away from hers, his mouth moving down to the crook of her neck. Sensuously tracing the curve with his tongue, his teeth grazing her now flushed skin.
“Thought you wanted…Oh, God…” Buffy’s breath caught in her throat as she felt his teeth on her skin, his mouth trailing kisses along her shoulder. Spike mumbled as he continued his ministrations on the woman in front of him.
“What’d you say? I’m a bit preoccupied right now.”
Buffy sighed softly, the shirt falling from her grasp as she felt Spike’s body pressing her against the closet. As she relished every taut muscle now imprinted against hers, his lips moved back up her neck, Spike breathing deeply. Buffy steadied herself against the closet door, trying to maintain her composure as she spoke. Unfortunately, her voice betrayed her as Spike continued to make her feel like every nerve ending in her body was on fire.
“Thought you wanted to see Dawn?”
“I do. I will. But I just have to know.”
“Know what?”
Spike reluctantly pulled his lips away from Buffy’s soft, welcoming skin, the taste of her still on his lips. As he looked into her eyes, a slight grin spread across his face. Buffy tilted her head slightly, a smile on her face wondering what the man in front of her was thinking. Spike looked on in awe, still not believing that he was truly awake, but in a very lovely dream as he spoke. “Know whether or not you still feel the same way I feel about you.”
Buffy stood there, her smile fading from her face. At that moment, Spike was certain that he had said the wrong thing. He had put his damn foot in his bloody mouth once again. Spike was about to scramble for an apology, but he never got a chance.
Instead, Buffy leaned forward, her lips pressed to his once again, her kiss gentle as she dropped the shirt to the floor. Her arms wrapped about his neck, pulling him closer to her, deepening their kiss. Spike sighed as Buffy’s tongue grazed against his, dancing the dance they had began almost a year ago.
Spike’s hands slid from the closet door, falling about her waist, pulling her closer to him. As their moans got louder, their breathing erratic, Buffy pulled away, gasping softly. Spike leaned in slightly, capturing her lips, allowing Buffy only a moment to catch her breath. Buffy’s hand clenched against the base of Spike’s neck, the other running feverishly through his hair, Buffy losing herself in him once again. Only with him.
Buffy pulled away once again, both breathing as though they had just run to Hell and back. Their gaze locked, Spike looking on, a hint of confusion on his face. First he thought he had said the wrong thing. Now, he found himself thinking that he had done something wrong again. Instead, Buffy smiled, her voice staggered between her breaths. “Does that…answer…your…question?”
Spike smiled, nodding as he tried to catch his breath. Buffy returned his smile, feeling her cheeks flush as he looked at her, losing herself in those beautiful eyes. “Good. Next time you think different, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
“Oooh. Kinky. You remember what I like.”
Buffy chuckled as her fingers continued running through his hair. “Shut up and kiss me, Floppy.”
The smile quickly dissipated from Spike’s countenance, a playful frown replacing it. “Who you calling Floppy?”
“You.”
“Reason being?”
Buffy’s lips pulled up slightly, her fingers running through his hair, gently pulling it up into little tufts, twirling it around between her fingertips.
“Your hair. I like it this way.”
Spike looked at her, not exactly understanding what she was trying to say. Buffy nodded slightly, looking deep into his eyes, enjoying the fact that she was here with him. Just a few weeks ago, she wasn’t sure if he still loved her. Now, here she was. In his arms. Talking about his hair, of all things. Strange thing was, it felt so right.
“Don’t get me wrong. The platinum blonde thing was nice, too. But the blondish brown and lack of egregious amounts of hairgel make it look more natural.” Buffy leaned closer to Spike, nuzzling against the crook of his neck. “More inviting.”
Spike sighed loudly; Buffy’s touch making him weak in the knees. As he spoke, his voice betrayed him; Buffy smiling against his neck at the fact that he also enjoyed the way she touched him. “So, is that my new nickname?”
Buffy gently kissed the side of his neck before returning her gaze to his. They looked at each other, both knowing what the other was feeling right at that moment. They rarely needed words, but it was the lack of words that had initially separated them. Buffy vowed that she’d never let that happen again. Never again.
She spoke, her voice in a hushed whisper, a slight smile on her lips. “Until I can think of something better, yep.” Spike chuckled softly, Buffy leaning in slowly, tilting her head upward. “Now, shut up and kiss me, Floppy.”
Spike pulled back slightly, a hint of hurt on his face. Buffy, thinking that she might have been a little to forward in her demand, tried for an apology. She never got the chance as Spike quickly leaned in, his lips gently pressing against Buffy’s. Their eyes locked, Spike feeling the smile emerging on Buffy’s lips as she realized his feint. They closed their eyes, relishing the sensation, both content about the here and now.
“So, did Xander say when they’d be back from Hawaii?”
Tara looked down to the floor, Dawn lying against her stomach. A textbook lay in front of her, a highlighter in her hand. Dawn never looked up, continuing to mark the passages that she thought were most important to the upcoming class discussion the next day. Tara smiled at the studious bookworm laid out at her feet, enjoying the normality of the situation.
And it was normal. Well, for living under this roof anyway. With all of the averted apocalypses and numerous deaths that occurred in this city, a simple act such as reading a book or studying for an exam seemed like the odd thing to do. But, here they were. Tara reading her novel, Dawn spending her valuable downtime studying for class. And the world wasn’t ending. Again.
Tara turned her gaze back to her novel, answering Dawn’s question. “Well, I didn’t get to talk to him long, but it sounds like they’re going to be there for a while.”
“What makes you say that, Tara?”
Tara thought back to her last conversation with Xander over a telephone. The sounds he made during that morning didn’t even compare to the ones he made a few minutes ago, Anya being more vocal this time as well. Tara couldn’t help but wonder if she was the catalyst for Xander and Anya having sex. After all, this was the second time in as many calls where she had caught them in the act. Well, unless the sounds she heard were of the wrestling variety. “Let’s just say I have a hunch, okay?”
Dawn looked up, at first not understanding what Tara meant. But, as soon as the small grin emerged from the corner of the witch’s lips, Dawn knew exactly what Tara had meant. Well, it wasn’t like Xander and Anya tried to hide their sexual appetites from anyone; even a little innocent girl like Dawn. Never mind that she was a teenager now. Hey, sixteen wasn’t something to look lightly on. “Well, I hope those two have fun. At least some of us will be happy for a while.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean, Dawnie.”
Willow had tried to get herself back into people mode, but there were times when she wanted to be by herself. Which explained why she was at the library right now. Probably catching up on all of the back issues of Physics Today. While most women their age tended to go along the lines of something more feminine for light reading, Willow felt more comfortable with a good issue of Popular Mechanics or Scientific American.
Then there was Buffy. While it was obvious to anyone with a pulse (and almost everyone without one) that she was missing Spike, the truth had been revealed to all but her last night. If Xander was right, then Spike wasn’t coming back to Sunnydale. And with Buffy’s current emotional situation, the news would most likely break her. Tara could only hope that Spike was man enough to tell Buffy the truth. If not, the task would have to fall to one of them. The thing was, who in their right mind would tell Buffy that Spike wasn’t coming back and live to tell the tale?
So, the group that was once inseparable now had two in Hawaii, one trying to regain her humanity, another at Spike’s place without a clue of what was going to come, and the remainder at Buffy’s house, acting the most normal of the group. Tara smiled at the thought, a witch and a former key to the gates of hell being the model of normality.
Well, there was Spike, of course. But, he was never officially a part of the group. Even now, he was considered an outsider. None of them knew how to treat him as a person. No, that was a lie. The young woman on the ground saw Spike as more than a monster. To Dawn, he’d always be her protector; her best friend. Even now, Dawn knew in her heart that Spike was going to come back. You’d have to be blind not to see the hope in her eyes whenever she mentioned his name. There was no doubt in her mind that Spike wasn’t not coming back. “I’m sure Xander and Anya will be fine. After all, who’s ever heard of a dreary honeymoon?”
“You don’t watch Passions, do you?”
Tara gave Dawn a curious look, Dawn giggling slightly at the joke that just fell on deaf ears. Spike would have gotten the joke. “Sorry. A bit of insider humor there.”
“Oh.” Tara nodded, her eyes falling on the clock on the other side of the living room. “Is it really that late?”
Dawn looked up from her book to the clock, a bit stunned at the time herself. “Guess what they say is true. Time really does fly when you’re having fun.”
“So, you enjoy reading about American history?”
Dawn contemplated Tara’s question before closing the textbook with a resounding thud. “Then again, like time can really fly.”
Tara chuckled softly as she rose from the sofa, placing her work of fiction to the side. “So, what do you want for dinner, Dawn?”
“I’m not sure. What are you in the mood for?”
“You know, I’m not entirely certain. Maybe we should wait for Buffy and Willow so we can go out or something. Spend some quality time together.”
“Yeah, but who knows when they’re going to get home?”
As if they were being closely surveilled, the answer to Dawn’s query came in the form of the lock to the front door tumbling open. Dawn mused on the occurrence, then spoke once again. “Yeah, but who knows when Keanu Reeves is going to come home?”
Tara gave Dawn a quizzical look, a small smile playing about her face.
“Hey, it was worth a shot.”
Tara nodded, both women walking over to greet whoever was at the front door. As they reached the front door, Buffy stepped through the archway, a hint of a smile on her face. The type of smile that indicated that the party in charge of said smile knew something that wasn’t common knowledge. Dawn decided to see if her intuition of her sister was still functional. “What are you hiding?”
Buffy gave Dawn a look of feigned insult as she spoke. “Gee, Dawn. Glad to see you too.”
“Yeah, yeah. So, what is it?”
“What makes you think I’m hiding anything?”
Tara chimed in, finally noting the playful demeanor about Buffy’s person. “Well, the fact you’re grinning like a Cheshire cat for one.”
“Et tu, Tara?”
“That proves it. She’s quoting Shakespeare. Wait, you’re not the bot, are you?”
Buffy gently rubbed her sister’s head, trying to assuage her fears. “I’m the real deal, sister dear.”
“So, what’s up then? You being all smiley.”
Buffy hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out the right words. Once she was sure of herself, she spoke. “Well, a stray followed me home and I want to keep him.”
Tara and Dawn exchanged a puzzled look as Buffy interrupted them.
“Go outside and look. If you don’t like him, I’ll send him back.”
“You are so weird.”
With that, Dawn stepped outside, Tara following close behind. As they looked out onto the front yard, neither could see the animal that Buffy had supposedly brought home with her. “I don’t see it, Buffy.”
“That’s ‘cos I’m right here.”
Dawn turned her gaze to the porch, her eyes falling on the figure sitting in the shadows, swaying gently in the porch swing. As the person stood up and emerged from the shadows, Dawn’s smile grew, knowing for certain now that her hearing hadn’t betrayed her.
“Hello, pigeon.”
Dawn ran over to Spike, her arms wrapping about his waist almost instinctively, her emotions overcoming her. “I knew you’d come back. I knew Xander was wrong.”
Spike chuckled as he embraced the younger Summers in his arms. “Well, when isn’t he wrong?” Spike looked over to the door, Buffy and Tara standing there, both with a smile on their face. “So, you been taking care of yourself, pet?”
Tara nodded her head slightly, enjoying the moment. “Course I have. Wouldn’t do me well if you came back and I wasn’t, now would it?”
Spike let out a tender laugh, Dawn releasing her hold on him. As she stood next to him, Spike’s arm still remained wrapped about her shoulder. “No, I guess it wouldn’t. Feel sorry for the blokes that would try to prove otherwise.” Spike and Dawn walked over to the two women, Spike looking over to Buffy, with a look of amusement on his face. “A stray, huh? Gonna send me away, are you?”
Buffy playfully grinned, her voice filled with joy as she spoke. “What do you think guys? Should we keep him?”
Tara was the first to answer. “Oh, definitely. He makes a great watchdog.”
Dawn seconded the motion, moving her arm about Spike’s waist. “And he’s so cuddly.”
Spike groaned, his free hand running through his hair. “Bloody hell. I went from being the scourge of Europe to being a fluffy puppy.”
“Yeah, but I don’t see you complaining.”
Spike threw Buffy a bemused look, as Dawn giggled at her sister’s observation.
“Luv, think I just did.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t mean it. Now, let’s move this conversation inside. I’m feeling a bit peckish.”
Spike smiled at the use of his words coming from Buffy’s lips. Some thought that he was a bad influence on her, but from his point of view, he was enjoying the Buffy standing in front of him. One that actually cared about him. There must be a god, after all. “Yeah. Food sounds good right about now.”
Buffy and Tara walked back inside, Spike and Dawn following closely behind. It was then that Spike noticed the absence. “So, where’s Willow?”
While Spike had wanted to see Dawn, he had also wanted to see Willow. While the rest of the group felt confident that she was okay to be around, even harmless, Spike had to make sure. The last time he had seen Willow, she was trying her damnedest to snuff out this little ball of dirt that they lived on. Thing was, Spike was almost certain that she wanted it. Not just the power that had seized Willow that night, but the innocent, bookish Willow as well. And, until he was sure, Spike couldn’t let his guard down as long as he was here.
Tara answered Spike’s query, sensing the subtle change in his mood. “Um, I think she’s still at the library. But, she’ll be back any minute now.”
“That’s fine. I think we can survive without her for a bit. What do you say, pet?”
Tara nodded as Buffy and Dawn headed toward the kitchen, most likely to order takeout. Tara spoke as she followed the sisters into the kitchen. “Well, for a bit.”
As Spike closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but shake that ominous feeling in his head that something bad was bound to happen.
Cordelia knew that she shouldn’t be checking up on Angel. He was a big boy. He could handle himself. So, why did she think that he’d do something stupid by going back to Sunnydale? Like rekindling his relationship with Buffy. “Shut up, brain.”
She knew that it couldn’t happen. They both lived in different worlds now. Each had their own, separate life to live. But, that nagging voice in the back of her head kept on saying ‘what if’. Cordelia sighed as she scrolled through the names on her call list, hitting the appropriate button once Angel’s name was highlighted by the neon green bar. As she brought the phone to her ear, she muttered to herself as the phone continued to ring. “Green button, Angel. Push the green button.”
It was amazing, in a Forrest Gump type of way. He had lived numerous lifetimes. Saw the world change firsthand as it rose from the Renaissance to the Industrial Age to today. Acquiring vast amounts of knowledge, yet he couldn’t figure out how to operate his cell phone. As Cordelia smiled at the thought of Angel fumbling with the keys of his phone, the ring tone ceased, Angel’s voice replacing it instead. “Yeah?”
“Hey, Angel.”
“Cordy? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Just wanted to know if you’re there yet.”
Cordelia knew the answer even before Angel answered. She could hear the car engine in the background, the turbulence of the wind causing Angel to essentially shout into the receiver. “Not yet. I’m just about to enter into Sunnydale, though.”
“That’s good to hear. So, you remember what we talked about earlier?” The noise startled Cordelia, she raising her head to see Fred walking into the office, a timid smile on her face. Cordelia returned the smile as Fred plopped down into a chair, looking on as Cordelia spoke on the phone. “Don’t make me regret not coming with you.”
“Don’t worry, Cordy. I promise. I won’t go in guns blazing.”
“Oh, great. You’re strapped now.”
Angel chuckled at his friend’s sarcasm, oozing through her voice. “It’s a figure of speech, Cordy.”
“Well, let’s hope that’s all it is.”
“Promise. Look, I’m about to get on the off ramp so I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Okay.” Cordelia gently sighed as she continued. “Angel?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful, okay?”
Angel contemplated the question, the worry in her voice evident. After a moment of silence, Angel responded. “I will. It’s just Spike. So don’t worry, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. I’ll talk to you later, then.”
“Bye, Angel.”
With that, Cordelia ended the call, dropping the phone onto the desk. Fred looked at her with curiosity, seeing that this little trip to Sunnydale was upsetting Cordelia to no end. Fred decided to run interference until Angel came back. “So, Gunn and Lorne are having a boys’ night out. What’s say we have our own? Well, not a boys’ night. It’d have to be a girls’ night. And…”
Cordelia waved her hand in the air, indicating that she got the gist of Fred’s statement. “That sounds good right about now. So, what’d you have in mind?”
“How about dinner that’s high in calories as well as taste. Then we go to the mall and splurge our paycheck.”
Cordelia looked at Fred, uncertain if she was joking or not. But, the smile on Fred’s face made the answer obvious. And, right about now, it seemed like the perfect distraction from Sunnydale. “I’m game if you are.”
Spike sat on the porch swing, half a cigarette between his lips, the other half as ash and soot on the floor. While the ladies were happy to see him once again, his vice was another matter. So, here he sat, outside. In the cold. Just so he could get some of that noxious yet sensuous smoke into his lungs, the nicotine calming his nerves. The tar and other additives doing God knows what else.
While being welcomed into the fold felt rather pleasing, he had to admit that the moments of solitude had their positives as well. Such as thinking about the future. A future, which involved one Buffy Summers.
Ever since he’d been back in Sunnydale, even back when he bought it from the jewelry store, Spike was uncertain what to do with the small velvet covered box. What if she didn’t feel the same way he did? What if he was rushing things? What if she said no?
Spike sighed, exhaling another lungful of smoke into the night air. He dropped the remnants of the cigarette onto the floorboards of the porch, his boot snuffing out any remaining embers. She seemed happy enough to see him when he first showed up at the apartment. Well, that wasn’t true. She was pissed because she found out from Xander (mental note: have a talk with the ‘boy’ about keeping secrets) that he wasn’t coming back to Sunnydale. But, once she found out the truth, she was rather amenable.
Okay, so that really wasn’t the best way to describe it. Before they knew it, they were all over each other, like a couple of lovelorn teenagers, enjoying a moment of privacy from the prying eyes of suspecting parents. It must have been a hell of a snog, because Spike still couldn’t recollect how he ended up in bed with Buffy the next morning.
But, that wasn’t what was bothering Spike at the moment. It was the future. What if they couldn’t make it work? After all, the other men in her life had been better suited for Buffy than he could ever be. Even that ponce Angel. They all had one thing that he lacked. A soul. Spike thought about that for a moment, realizing that he’d have to check on that once Giles arrived in Sunnydale.
What if he had a soul now? But, it didn’t feel like anything had changed. He seemed to be the same bloke he was before things went down with Willow. If he did have a soul, wouldn’t he be all broody like the royal ponce? After all, once Angel got his soul back, it was all ‘Forgive me’ this and ‘I’m sorry’ that. Spike knew that he had his own sins, but he accepted the fact that they were in the past. Not much one can do to change the past, now is there?
As he contemplated that thought, the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk alerted Spike, stirring him from his thoughts. Upon looking up, Spike hesitantly smiled as he spoke to the figure walking toward him. “Hullo, Willow.”
“Uh. Hi, Spike.”
They both remained silent, neither knowing exactly what to say.
He stood across the street, looking upon the building that had come to symbolize everything that he hated. The evil that it represented. The remembrance of the man that had taken his father’s life.
As Connor stood unmoving, the night wind gently tousling his hair across his brow, he noticed that the building was empty. The demon’s car was absent, as was his whore’s SUV and the ratty pick up truck. It would be so easy to hurt them now. With a simple spark, the building would be in flames in but an instant. But, that wasn’t his way.
He wanted to hurt the demon, just as he had hurt Connor. By taking away what the monster held most dear. So, that was how Connor eventually came to his conclusion. Kill the demon’s bitch, and he’d be hurting just as much as Connor was at this moment.
It was clear that there was something between them. Something more than friendship. He saw it when he was initially invited into their sanctum, as the demon’s son. But, his father told him the truth. Evil would try to entice him with pretty things. And that was the truth, because he had almost fallen into the vampire’s trap. Had almost started to care about the demon that thought it was his father.
Connor flinched at the possibility. While Holtz had been caring, nurturing and supportive of him, he was also human. So, how was it possible for Connor to have such strength and speed when his father displayed no such abilities at all? Maybe he got these gifts from his mother. But, that would have to remain a mystery because Holtz had never spoke about his mother. Instead, he thought it better that the less Connor knew about his past, the better. But, the similarity still remained.
That he was just like Angel. God, even the name felt like a nest of thorns in his mind as he thought it. But, he couldn’t dismiss the fact that he fought like Angel. Displayed his agility, his quickness. But, so did other things that supposedly went bump in the night. Connor’s time in this dimension had quickly alerted him to that fact as he encountered the denizens of Los Angeles, the human and not so human side.
As Connor tried to convince himself that it was merely coincidence that linked him and Angel, a scream from the nearby alleyway got his attention.
“Help me! Oh, God. Help me!”
Connor’s feet moved instinctively, his brain processing the external stimuli almost as though it was second nature. While he was content to simmer in his rage while standing in front of the Hyperion, someone else was in trouble. So, his problems were put to the wayside until the situation was dealt with properly.
He ran with the grace of a gazelle, turning the corner just as deftly. However, the sight was one he would have never expected. Instead of a simple mugging or an indistinct street brawl, the view that graced Connor’s gaze was something much more foreign.
The woman running past him, her clothes torn and tattered, paid him no mind as Connor stood in the alleyway. He looked on, almost dumbfounded as the man yelled in pain, the stranger standing in front of him. While Connor would have dismissed this as an ordinary mugging, the eerie glow emanating from between them indicated otherwise. Connor snapped from his daze, beginning to move toward the two individuals. He leapt toward the one standing, the other one now falling to his knees, the shrill scream becoming weaker.
While the impact would have been more than enough to propel a normal person through the opposite wall, Connor gasped in surprise as he bounced off the man’s attacker, wincing as he held his arm. As Connor fell to the ground, his new position in relation to the two men allowed him to finally see what was causing the victim so much distress.
The glow was emanating from the man’s chest; the attacker’s hand plunged into it, the bright light slowly dissipating in conjunction to the scream’s intensity. Connor pushed his way back up to his feet; his tender arm nestled close to his body as he began another attack on the assailant. However, the voice stopped him in his tracks, the tone making Connor feel uneasy. “I wouldn’t bother if I were you. I’m done here.”
With that, the stranger’s hand slowly emerged from the man’s chest, no evidence of a wound present as he slumped to the ground, his eyes white, the irises now vacant from the victim’s gaze. Connor stood at alert, ready for the man to attack him. Instead, the man gently smoothed out his brown overthrow, his silver hair glistening in the moonlight.
“You just killed that man.”
“I know.”
“But why?”
The man turned around, now facing Connor who still stood in a defensive stance. “Because he deserved it.”
Connor lowered his good arm; looking at the stranger with a voice that resonated in his head, the deepness of the tone making his hair stand on end. “Deserved? I don’t understand.”
The stranger spoke in a gentle voice, obviously trying not to confront Connor. “He just tried to rape that woman that ran past you. I stopped him.”
“By killing him?” Even scum, such as the man laying at the stranger’s feet, deserved better than the fate that had befell him. “You could have just stopped the rape.”
“And what? Allow him to rape someone else? Maybe someone you know, perhaps?”
Connor answered almost immediately. “I don’t have anyone.”
The stranger considered Connor’s answer, looking at him with eyes that were deep blue, the color complementing the man’s hair. To say that Connor felt uncomfortable under the man’s gaze would be an understatement. It was as if Death himself was peering into his soul. Before Connor could voice his concern, the stranger spoke. “You’ve been to Quortoth?”
Connor stepped back, somewhat in shock at the question. The only people that knew of his time in the hell dimension were his father, the demon, and its friends. The fact that the stranger that now standing in front of him knew of his past as well bothered Connor to no end. “Who have you been talking to?”
“No one.”
“Then how do you know about Quortoth?”
“I can still smell it on you. You reek of Hell.” Connor looked at the stranger, a confused look on his countenance. “But, you’re not a hellspawn. How did you survive such an existence?” Connor answered truthfully, his gaze never wavering.
“Hate.”
Connor expected the stranger to be surprised by the answer. Instead, the man just smiled, his eyes growing soft. “I can help you, Connor. If you let me.”
Yet another surprise from the stranger. “How do you know my name?”
“There are many things that are known to me, young Connor.” The stranger walked over to Connor, the young man now returning to a defensive stance. Instead of taking Connor’s body language negatively, the stranger continued to smile his welcoming smile while his hand gently lifted Connor’s chin so their eyes locked. “Like your hatred for the vampire. The one with a soul.”
“You know Angel?”
The stranger nodded, continuing his speech. “Let me help you, Connor. All I ask for in return is your aid from time to time.” Connor began to shake his head, unsure of the proposal the man in front of him was making. “I’ll help you kill them all if you aid me in my quest.”
“Why would you help me?”
The man spoke, his response coming almost as quickly as Connor’s response to surviving Quortoth.
“Because I too have hate in my heart. I know how it feels, not being able to unleash that hate. Having it eat away at your being.” Connor nodded, identifying with the stranger’s dilemma. “But, I think we can help each other, young Connor. If you’ll allow me.”
Connor remained silent, taking in the stranger’s words. Finally he nodded agreement, the stranger nodding in return. With that, Connor spoke, his query breaking the silence. “Who are you?”
The man simply smiled as he spoke. “I’m known by many names. But you can call me Dante.”
The silence filled the night air, both still unsure of what to say. Willow stood on the walkway, tightly gripping the book in her hand while Spike’s foot began to rapidly move across the floorboard. After a moment, Spike initiated the eventual conversation. “Have a sit, luv. I think we need to talk.”
Spike slid to the end of the porch swing, his arm motion indicating to Willow to sit next to him. Willow timidly smiled as she began making her way up the steps. “Yeah.”
Willow carefully sat down next to Spike, making sure she left enough room between them to create that certain ‘personal boundary’. As she got herself situated, Spike spoke. “So, how’ve you been?”
“Okay, I guess. Been napping for about four months. But other than that, I’m fine and dandy.” Spike gently chuckled at her remark as Willow returned the question. “And you?”
“Oh, you know. The usual. Think I might have been dead but I’m not quite certain of that anymore.”
“You don’t think you were dead? But I…”
Spike stopped her train of thought, knowing that there was no reason to drudge up the past. “Wasn’t you, pet. It was the magic.”
Willow sighed as she spoke. “You know, Buffy said the same thing.” She gently chuckled as she continued. “Kinda scary, huh?” Spike tilted his head at her, unsure of her question. Willow saw the confusion on his face, explaining herself. “You two actually agreeing on something.”
Spike nodded agreement at Willow’s observation. “Yeah. That kinda took me by surprise, myself. What’s the world coming to when a Slayer and a vampire agree?”
“So, you’re a vampire, then? Is that what you found out in England?”
Spike shook his head, indicating the negative. “Not quite. Not sure what I am, actually. But I’m not a vampire. That much is certain.”
“Oh.”
The silence overcame them once again, the awkwardness replacing the initial comfort rather quickly. Both pushed against the floorboard in unison, the porch swing gently swaying in the night. The gentle squeak of the chain against the hinge rhythmically filled the silence, allowing Willow to take some comfort in the silence and the fact she was sharing it with Spike.
She had expected a flood of guilt and shame to overcome her while he berated her, blaming her for his death. Instead, Spike merely sat there, wanting to know about her well-being, no hint of hatred or contempt in his voice.
“Spike?”
“Yeah, pet?”
“Thank you.”
Spike sat up a bit, tilting his gaze toward the woman sitting next to him, still not trusting his hearing. “What was that?”
“I said thank you.”
“Yeah, I got that. But why?”
Willow sighed, realizing that she’d have to explain herself once again. Her fingers moved to her neck, gently tracing the scars that would be her constant reminder of what Spike had done to her. Done for her.
“You stopped me before I did something I’d have no way to come back from.” Spike nodded, understanding what she meant, remembering that night in the cemetery. “But Amy’s always going to be there, isn’t she?”
Spike answered truthfully. “’Fraid so.”
Willow frowned at the announcement, her hands now resting in her lap as Spike continued to gently move the swing with his legs. “Is there any way to stop the hurt?”
“I don’t think I’m the right one to ask, pet.” Spike stopped the motion of the swing, his arm resting on the wooden armrest. “Killed a lot of people in my day. But remorse was never my strong suit.”
“So, you just don’t care?”
“Didn’t say that.”
“Then what do you do mean?”
“Just because I killed people doesn’t mean I didn’t care. That was more Drusilla’s style. I respected most of the people I preyed on. I mean, here they were, living a life that I’d given up on. I almost admired them because…” Spike took a long breath before speaking once again. “…because they had the strength to live in this buggering cesspool called life when I didn’t.”
Willow looked at Spike, his words hanging in the air while the realization of Spike’s confession finally registered. Spike continued, trying to maintain his composure. “Look, I’m just saying, you might or you might not get over Amy’s death. But, why let it take over what you are?” As Spike looked back out to the street; Willow gently rocked the porch swing this time. “Why complicate your life with the mistakes of the past when living in the here and now is so goddamned hard as it is? Right?”
“Right.”
“Right, then.” Willow smiled at Spike as she turned her gaze toward the street as well. The moon was full, illuminating most of the darkness along Revello Drive. After another moment of silence, this one more comfortable than the previous ones, Spike’s voice filled the void. “You know, I have to ask you this. Yeah?”
“It’s okay. I would if I were you, too.”
Spike subtly nodded, asking his question. “You doing the magic behind their backs?”
Willow answered quickly. Quietly. “No.”
“Could be lying.”
“Could be. But you’re going to have to trust me.”
Spike contemplated Willow’s words for a moment before speaking. “I will, because of what you mean to them. But, make no mistake. You do wrong by them again, I won’t hold back like I did last time.”
“I know you won’t.”
Both turned their gaze to each other once again, understanding evident between the two. Spike nodded at Willow, tilting his head to the front door. “You should go inside. The girls are still finishing dinner. Think Tara saved you a plate.”
Willow nodded as she rose from her seat. As she walked past Spike, she turned back to look at him. “She’s lucky to have someone like you in her life. I hope you realize that.”
Spike gently chuckled as he waved his hand. “Careful, Red. Or I’m gonna think you actually like me.”
Willow smiled at Spike before entering the house, leaving Spike once again alone on the porch. As he reached for another cigarette from his pocket, a voice filled the air. Spike stood up, not believing his ears as he heard the words.
“Almost brought a tear to my eye, Spike. Too bad it was all lies.”
Spike turned his gaze toward the sound of the voice, his eyes falling on the figure emerging from behind the oak tree. The jacket may have been mistaken for someone else’s. Even the gait of his walk. But there was no way anyone would wear their hair like that on purpose, shooting straight up to the moon like only his did.
Spike was about to make one of his typical witticisms; but Angel’s face morphed quickly as he lunged toward Spike, his hands gripping the collar of Spike’s shirt roughly. So, Spike said the first thing that came to mind before Angel threw him against the tree with a force that shattered the side of the trunk, the splinters falling haphazardly onto the grass.
“Oh, sh…”