Where Angels Tread
By Spike SpeigelAnd The Horse You Rode In On
The bed groaned and creaked under the pressure being inflicted on it. One would have thought it was a contest, the groans of the bed trying to overcome the moans of the two individuals on top. As the springs sighed and the impact of the headboard crashed repeatedly into the wall, it seemed as though the bed would give way, the legs falling to the wayside as the occupants collapsed onto the floor. However, as quickly as the primal sounds crescendoed, they quickly dissipated, silence now filling the room.
One more guttural groan emerged from the silence before Wesley rolled onto his back, his breath coming in shallow gasps. Lilah lay next to him, her gasps matching Wesley’s. Their bodies glistened in the moonlight pouring into the room, sweat beaded about their bodies. Lilah never looked at Wesley as she spoke. “God! That was incredible.”
Wesley’s breath began to steady itself, his chest rising and falling in slow lulls. “Why do you always talk? I thought we agreed there’d be no talking.”
Lilah’s arm slinked down the length of her body, her hand clutching at the sheet now crumpled into a wad of fabric, pulling as much as she could over her body. Gently chuckling, she answered Wesley Wyndham Price’s query. “You’re still pretending I’m her, aren’t you?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
Wesley rolled to his side, the image of the woman next to him entering the corner of his eye beginning to nauseate him. As he reached for the glass of brandy on the nightstand, Lilah’s voice filled his ears. “I can see it in your eyes. There’s a glimmer of emotion in there when you’re having your way with me. So, it’s either one of two things. You’re thinking of that bookish waif or you’re starting to care about me.” Wesley’s bitter laughter escaped from him as he brought the glass to his lips. “Guess that answers my question.”
Wesley’s legs swung off the side of the bed as he placed the glass back in its previous location, his hands now clutching the edge of the mattress. “Like you’d know what kindness actually looks like.”
“Well, you’ve got me there.” Lilah slid her body over to Wesley, the sheet the only thing separating them as she pressed herself against his back, her arms sliding about his waist. “But you still know how to care, right? Or do you actually want to kill me?”
Wesley looked over his shoulder, genuinely confused by the question. “What are you prattling about?”
Lilah slowly arched her neck skyward, her fingers gently tracing the faint bruises still evident on her skin. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten about last night.”
“That…that was an accident.”
“Uh huh.” Lilah moved her lips to Wesley’s shoulder, gently trailing kisses up to his earlobe. “Face it, Wesley. There’s something dark lurking inside of you. Anger. Resentment. Failure.” Her lips now hovered next to his ear, her voice a whisper. “And frankly, I want to be around when you finally let go.” Wesley wasn’t sure if it was Lilah’s warm breath or the thought of her being right that sent a shiver up his back. “Wanna see if we can get you to show your true colors?” Lilah’s hands moved from his waist, moving between his legs. Wesley’s eyes slightly closed, the touch causing him to lose all semblance of reason. That was, until the phone’s shrill tone interrupted the moment.
Wesley pulled himself away from Lilah’s embrace, walking into the living room to answer the phone that continued its ringing as though it was a bleating sheep. “Price here.”
“Mr. Price. We have a situation.”
Wesley didn’t bother turning his gaze to the noise behind him, knowing that Lilah had followed him into the living room. “What kind of situation, Gavin?”
“There was a spatial disturbance in the vicinity.”
“Have you pinpointed it?”
“In a matter of speaking.”
Wesley sighed at the lawyer’s cryptic answer. “What exactly does that mean?”
“Well, we detected the disturbance in Los Angeles and another city.” A sound of rustling paper emanated through the receiver before the voice replaced it. “Uh, the city of Sunnydale. Angel’s old stomping grounds.”
Sunnydale. Now there was a word he thought he’d never hear again. “I’ve heard of it. Do we know exactly where it originated?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Price. But the incident was too brief for an exact location.”
“Of course it was. Because if you did locate it, you wouldn’t be calling me right now, would you?” The silence on the other end was all the answer he needed. “What does Wolfram and Hart want me to do?”
The voice wavered slightly, as though afraid to vocalize what needed to be said. “You’re to locate said anomaly and contain if possible. Otherwise…”
Wesley finished the sentence. “…termination.”
“Correct. And your liaison for this mission will be Ms. Morgan. You wouldn’t happen to know where she is, by any chance, do you? We’ve been trying to reach her but kept on…”
Wesley quickly interrupted Gavin, a hint of anger in his voice. “Why would I know where she is? I’m not her Goddamned keeper!”
Gavin displayed no hint of trepidation like a normal man would upon hearing the angry tone resonating through the receiver. “Be that as it may, I advise you to find her quickly and figure out this quandary. Your success in this case will ensure eternal gratitude from Wolfram and Hart.”
Wesley didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he dropped the phone into the cradle as he turned around. Lilah sat on the sofa, legs curled underneath her, the solitary sheet wrapped about her visage. “What did Gavin want?”
Wesley ran a hand through his bed-ridden hair before speaking. “Get dressed. We’ve got work to do.”
Buffy sat on the bed, looking around at her environs. For a hotel room, it wasn’t half bad. While the surroundings should have been foreign to her, something in the back of her mind kept on telling her otherwise. Like she had been here before. But, that couldn’t have been possible. Could it? Sure, she had been here before once upon a time. But she didn’t recall actually ever seeing a bedroom. Did she? Before she could immerse herself in the thought, a knock at the door got her attention. “Who is it?”
“It’s me, pet. You decent?”
Buffy gently giggled as she rose from the bed, walking over to the door. “What would you do if I wasn’t?”
Before Spike could answer, Buffy opened the door, Spike standing in the doorframe. “Well, right now, nothing. Unless the whole ‘Angel not knowing’ thing is out the window?”
Buffy stepped to the side of the door, allowing Spike entry into the room. “’Fraid not.”
“Well, then. I guess nothing it is.” Spike moved into the room, Buffy closing the door behind her. She stood at the door for a bit, watching as Spike situated himself on the bed. His legs hung from the edge while his arms lay under his head as his gaze fell on the ceiling.
Buffy moved over to the bed, her legs on either side of his knees as she looked down at him, a hint of concern in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why?”
“It’s just, after what happened at the hospital, you’ve been quiet.”
Spike moved his gaze to Buffy, her hands now on his chest as he spoke. “Just mulling things over. That’s all.”
Buffy looked at him for a while, unable to read his emotions, his face a blank canvas. She gently smiled at him before bringing her head to rest on his shoulder, his arm instinctively wrapping about her shoulders. They lay motionless for a while, Buffy unsure of whether she should ask him or not. Curiosity got the better of her. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Spike’s arm moved to the small of Buffy’s back, his thumb gently caressing the slight concavity at the base, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “If it’s all the same to you, Buffy, can we just leave it be for a bit?” Buffy would have spoken by now, but the tone in his voice made her decide otherwise. There was something there. The typical lilt in his voice was gone, replaced now by, what? Was it fear? Sadness? “Just wanna lay here for a while, is all.” She was wrong. It sounded like he was fatigued, worn down. That he was desperately tired. Almost like he’d lived a thousand lives in a matter of moments. Like a man that had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Buffy raised her head from his chest, her face now in Spike’s line of sight. Spike’s gaze locked with hers, a hint of puzzlement on his face at the look she was now giving him. Before he could voice his curiosity, Buffy slowly leaned forward, her lips gently grazing his. Spike initially kept his gaze on Buffy, taking in the sight of the woman now immersed in the kiss. Years ago, he would have been plotting the best way to end her life. Now, he couldn’t imagine not being like this. Kissing the woman he loved because he could.
Spike’s eyes slowly closed, immersing himself in the kiss. His hand moved up her back, eventually finding its way into her hair. Buffy’s hand moved to the side of his face, cupping it while the other remained close to his heart, their lips moving in unison, as though they were made for just this purpose.
As Spike began to lose himself in the kiss, Buffy reluctantly pulled back, a slight gasp indicating that lack of oxygen was the reason she broke their bond. As Buffy’s breathing began to assume a normal rhythm once again, Spike’s hand gently caressed her hair as he spoke. “Not that I’m complaining, but what was that for?”
Buffy tenderly smiled, her emotions for the man below her getting the better of her. “Because I can. And, because, you looked like you needed it.”
Spike grinned slightly as he spoke. “Remind me to be contemplative more often around you, then.”
“You got it, Floppy.”
Spike’s grin turned into a halfhearted frown upon hearing the nickname once again. “Still on that, eh?”
“What can I say?” Buffy’s hands moved to Spike’s hair, her fingers tenderly running though the near silken strands of his hair. “I love your hair like this.”
“Tell the truth, I’m starting to like it more than the Billy Idol look. Makes me look more manly, yeah?”
Buffy chuckled softly, leaning in once again as she spoke. “Whatever you say, Floppy. Whatever you say.” As Buffy’s lips were about to touch Spike’s once again, a knock at the door disrupted the moment, both turning their gaze to the wooden door. “Who is it?”
“It’s me.” Spike frowned to such a degree that Buffy could have sworn that it actually made a sound. Buffy slowly backed away from Spike, Spike moving in kind with her as they slid off the bed. Spike situated himself in one of the armchairs in the room while Buffy moved to the door.
As Buffy opened the door, the figure standing in the hallway looked tired as well, as should be expected given the events of the previous night. “Angel. What is it?”
“Hey, Buffy. Can I come in?”
“Um, yeah.” Buffy stepped away from the entrance, Angel awkwardly smiling as he walked past her.
His lips began to move, however, the sight of Spike sitting in Buffy’s room made whatever information he was about to deliver moot. “What is he doing here?”
Spike slightly nodded his head, trying to resist the urge to get into it with his former partner in crime. “Hullo to you too, mate. What brings you here this time of day? Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty rest?”
Angel never bothered to look at Spike as his attention remained on Buffy. “Could say the same to you. So, why are you here again?”
Before Spike could showcase his annoyance at being ignored, Buffy spoke. “How’s your friend?”
Angel sighed, the exhaustion now prevalent on his face. “No word yet. Cordelia said he was still in the emergency room. It was…” The image of Gunn’s mangled body floated through his consciousness, the reality of the situation now sinking in. “It was bad.”
Buffy gently placed her hand on Angel’s shoulder, tenderly squeezing it as a sign of support. Her eyes flitted over to Spike, certain that a wave of jealously would overcome him. So, she was unprepared when she saw Spike with a solemn look on his face, not even considering the fact that Buffy was close to Angel. Her gaze fell on Angel once again as she voiced her concern. “Is there anything we can do?”
“It’s okay. Cordelia and Fred have the hospital covered. And Lorne seems to be doing better.” Angel was about to get into it with Spike once again, but he saw the same thing Buffy had seen earlier. Spike didn’t look like he was ready to mix it up. In fact, he seemed genuinely concerned. Maybe he was tired? That’s why Spike actually looked like he gave a damn.
Unfortunately for Angel, Spike caught the look that Angel had just given him. “What’s on your mind?”
Angel’s brow furrowed, Buffy now crossing her arms across her chest. There was still the matter of Spike knowing what Cordelia had seen in her vision. And, as long as that remained a mystery, Angel didn’t trust Spike as fast as he could plunge a stake into his black heart. “You still haven’t told us how you knew what Cordy saw in her vision?”
“Yeah, I did.” Spike rose from the armchair, not liking the insinuation that was clearly evident in Angel’s tone. “Tweedy did something to me.”
“I’m not buying it.”
Buffy came to Spike’s defense, seeing as how Angel still had his mind set on Spike being out for only himself. “I was there, Angel. I saw Mr. Tweedy touch Spike and then the room was enveloped in a blue light.”
Angel’s words were addressed to Buffy even though his gaze never left Spike. “Yeah? Seems kinda convenient that the one man that could have cleared Spike of this doomsday accusation dies as soon as Spike steps foot in L.A.”
Spike stepped closer to Angel, Buffy’s look turning from one of concern to one of worry. “What the hell are you getting at? That I wanted this Tweedy chap shuffled off this mortal coil?”
“If the shoe fits.”
“You stupid git!”
Buffy finally had enough of the copious amount of testosterone being flung about. She intervened, stepping between the two men and pushing them apart from one another. “That’s enough!” Angel was about to protest, but Buffy cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. Spike and I came here voluntarily to prove that Spike has nothing to do with what your people heard. I think Spike deserves the benefit of the doubt.”
Angel’s retort was quick and concise. “I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt once he earns it.”
Spike growled softly as he pushed his way past the former couple. Buffy turned to Spike as he began to move to the door. “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere that’s not here. Only so many sodding insults I can take in one day.”
As Spike began to walk down the hallway, Angel called out to him. “The sun’s out. You’re not going anywhere.”
Spike gently chuckled, a hint of superiority in his voice as he spoke. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not you then. Yeah?”
When Spike’s footfalls began to fade in the distance, Angel turned to Buffy, confusion lacing his tone. “What’d he mean by that?”
“He meant that unlike you, he can walk in the daylight without getting all toasty.”
“What?”
Buffy’s tone remained resentful as she spoke. “You had no right to say those things to him.”
Unfortunately, Angel was still stuck on the previous bit of knowledge now bestowed on him. “What do you mean he can walk in the sun?”
Buffy sighed, frustration overcoming her. She realized that the only way Spike would ever have a chance in Angel’s eyes would be if she told him the truth. Not the whole story. Just the parts that were absolutely necessary for Buffy to get her point across. “Sit down, Angel. I think you should know what’s happened in the past few months.”
The course list lay in front of her, but her heart wasn’t really in it. She still had time to enroll before add/drop, but seriously, did she even belong there anymore? Sure, Tara was still doing the college thing. But, how could she even think about going back? Not after all that had happened. Willow continued to read the course synopses, nothing really appealing to her.
Tara had suggested that getting back into a daily routine might help put the past behind. To help her move on with her life. But that wasn’t possible. She had taken a life. Might have taken more if her friends hadn’t stopped her. If Spike hadn’t stopped her. She knew the marks were still on her neck. It became sort of a ritual, touching the two indentations in her flesh to assure herself that it wasn’t a dream. That she had almost…
Willow sighed as she slouched back into the cushions of the sofa. Where exactly did she belong now? A slight grin graced her lips as she wondered if this was the same mindset Buffy had when she came back as well. If it was, then Willow totally understood Buffy’s actions over the past year. Her withdrawal from the group. Her alienation from her sister. Her trysts with Spike. Anything to feel alive.
But it was more than that, wasn’t it? It had to be. After all, Buffy and Spike were still, for all intents and purposes, a couple. A couple. When it came to think of a possible suitor for her friend, Spike definitely wasn’t on that list. Angel maybe. Definitely Riley. But Spike? God, they’ve hated each other as far back as Willow could remember.
Maybe that was it, though. They hated each other because they realized how much alike the other was. How perfect things could be if they allowed themselves that one moment of vulnerability. That one moment of happiness. Now that she thought about it, Spike could actually be the one to finally grant Buffy that small modicum of happiness that had eluded her for the majority of her time in Sunnydale. A normal life. Well, as normal as it got for a Slayer at any rate.
While Willow’s body continued to push against the cushions of the couch, as though she was trying to move through some secret passage akin to Harry Potter’s train station, a high pitch ring shook her from her deliberation. It took her a moment to realize that the noise was the new cordless sitting on the table by the stairs. Willow didn’t hesitate as she rose from the couch, mainly because she finally had a reason not to look for possible classes to enroll for the semester. With a lighthearted tone, she answered the phone. “Summers resident.”
At first, the line remained open, silence coming through the receiver. As Willow began to think it was someone with a wrong number, a familiar voice finally broke the silence. “Willow?”
The voice was unmistakable. There were only two people she knew with that accent, and she knew that the other one was with Buffy in Los Angeles at the moment. “Giles?”
Another moment of awkward silence hovered in the air, neither knowing what exactly to say. After all, Willow was now acclimating herself to being around her friends after what had come before, she could only imagine what Giles was feeling at that moment upon hearing her voice. “How…” She could almost hear Giles struggling for words on the other end as he spoke. “…how are you?”
“I’m good.” She felt that she needed to get the point across that everything was indeed okay. “Really.”
Giles softly chuckled, realizing what Willow was trying to imply. “That’s good to hear. I’d love to talk more but my plane’s about to leave the terminal.”
“Plane?” Willow didn’t realize she was smiling until her words came out. “Are you coming home?”
Home. That sounded nice. He’d been in England for a little over a year now. He’d lived here most of his life. But it wasn’t home. No. Home was where his family was. And that was Sunnydale. “Well, that’s why I’m calling. I was hoping that Buffy would pick me up from the airport once I land.”
“That might be a problem.”
Giles’ tone suddenly contained a hint of worry as he spoke. “Why’s that?”
“She’s in L.A. with Spike and Angel.” Willow didn’t realize it, but Giles had begun to laugh. Hysterically. “What’s so funny, Giles?”
The laughter curtailed to mere sniggers as Giles tried to complete a sentence. “It’s nothing. It’s just Spike and Angel and Buffy…and…and…”
Willow couldn’t help but join in with the laughter upon thinking about the situation Buffy now found herself in. “It is pretty funny, isn’t it? She sure knows how to pick ‘em, eh?”
“You can say that again.”
The laughter subsided as Willow spoke, wanting to explain Buffy’s current dilemma. “It’s not what you think, though. According to Angel, Spike’s supposed to be responsible for destroying the world.”
The lighthearted tone quickly disappeared from Giles’ voice as he shifted into a more serious nature. “So, Buffy and Spike are in Los Angeles…”
Willow finished his thought. “…so they could clear Spike of Angel’s accusation.”
“I see. Any word on that, yet?”
“No, none. But I’m sure they’ll get everything straightened out by the time you get here.” Suddenly, the obvious question occurred to Willow. “When are you getting here, anyway?”
“I’ve got a stopover in France, so I’ll probably be there sometime tomorrow evening.” A muted voice came from the background, almost muffling Giles’ last words. “I’ve got to go. That was final boarding. I’ll give you a ring when I get into Sunnydale, if that’s okay with you?”
Willow slightly smiled as she took in Giles’ words. Even now he was still thinking of her emotional state. She’d have to rectify that once he got back. “Of course it’s okay. Tara, Dawn and I will be waiting for you. And I’ll call Buffy to see if they’ll be able to make it as well.”
“Very well. Goodbye, Willow.”
“Bye, Giles. See you tomorrow.” Giles chuckled slightly as he heard the almost giddy tone in Willow’s voice, almost as though she were a child waiting for Christmas to come that much quicker so she could tear through the ill-fated wrapping. Then there was the end signal followed by Willow replacing the receiver back into the cradle.
Giles was coming home. Buffy and Xander had accepted her back into the fold. Things were going well with Tara. Things were definitely looking up. Willow smiled as she lifted the receiver back up, punching the appropriate buttons.
“Wait. You’re telling me that Spike, William the Bloody, voluntarily stepped into an energy field that came from the gates of Hell to stop Willow, of all people, from destroying the world? And now he’s not exactly a vampire because he can withstand all the things that I can’t?”
Buffy wondered why such a simple explanation had now taken a little over an hour to detail sufficiently for Angel. Had to give it to him, though. He wasn’t one that readily forgave. That much was evident as she sat in the hotel room watching Angel as he paced up and down the carpet, trying to wrap his brain about the idea that Spike did something good. Hell, heroic when you got down to it.
To be honest, Buffy didn’t think Spike would go through with it. It was clear that he had certain feelings for Buffy, but Buffy didn’t label it as love until she lost him. Funny, that. While he was around, she didn’t think much of him. It wasn’t until he died that she realized how much she really needed him. How much better her life was with him in it.
But, she had been given a second chance. And she wasn’t going to screw it up. Not if they had a chance of something more. “Angel, why are you trying to be difficult?”
The look he gave her was one of confusion coupled with astonishment. As though he couldn’t believe what was happening in his little pocket of existence. That the news his ex-lover had delivered had been of a different tongue. One he couldn’t understand. “Difficult?” Angel stopped his pacing to stand in front of the armchair that Buffy found herself glued in since Spike left the Hyperion. She hoped he was okay. Not physically. Spike knew how to take care of himself. She was worried about his emotional state. It couldn’t be easy, his past coming back to haunt him in the form of her ex-boyfriend. To blatantly accuse him of being no good. Of foretelling of his involvement in bringing about Armageddon. “I’m not trying to be anything, Buffy. What I’m doing is listening to the ramblings of a mad…” He gave her a glance, realizing that the gender he had in mind wouldn’t work with her. “…person.”
Buffy rose from the chair, standing directly in front of Angel now, her eyes locked defiantly with his. “Look. I don’t care what you think, okay? I’ve told you what’s happened. That’s all you’re gonna get. I’m just a little disturbed that you don’t take my word at face value anymore.”
Angel’s countenance turned from one of frustration to one of concern upon hearing her words. “It’s not like that, and you know it. It’s just…it’s Spike.”
“I know who he is, Angel. He’s been helping us for quite a while now.” She placed the emphasis on ‘helping’ just to get it through his thick skull that Spike had changed. But, based on the look Angel now had on his face, she realized that no words would be adequate to convince Angel of Spike’s character.
“Look, I get that he’s been the...”
“I swear to God, if you say ‘flavor of the week’, I’m gonna shove my foot where the sun doesn’t shine.”
Angel winced slightly, mostly at the imagery now forming in his head, before he spoke again. “I wasn’t going to say that.” Buffy nodded slightly, satisfied that Angel was beginning to act like an adult. “I was gonna say month.” Somewhat.
Buffy sighed out of frustration as she spoke. “Why won’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?” She wasn’t ready for his rebuttal.
“Why do you give him the benefit of the doubt?” Angel’s arms were now crossed about his chest, his demeanor serious.
“We give him the benefit because…”
Angel interrupted her explanation, his tone becoming more focused, almost prodding. “That’s not what I asked.” Buffy turned her gaze from his, afraid that Angel was finally piecing together the puzzle fragments. His hand moved to her chin, gently tilting her gaze back to his. “Why do you give him the benefit of the doubt? After everything he’s done to you? How can you just treat him as another person?”
Buffy tried her best for an answer, not entirely paying attention to the words coming out of her mouth. Mostly because she was too busy trying to maintain her composure under Angel’s gaze now boring a hole into her being. “Because he’s changed.”
“How?”
“I told you already.”
“Okay, beside the fact he sacrificed himself to save the world. What else has he done to prove he’s changed?”
Buffy looked at Angel in astonishment at his words. “You’re not serious? Saving the world’s not enough for you?”
Angel’s response was quick and to the point. “When it comes to Spike, yeah. Last time he tried to save the world, he took off with Dru while he left us to fight to the death.”
“That’s not fair. He was different back then. So were you, if you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh, I remember. But I got my soul back. What’s Spike’s excuse?”
Buffy pulled herself away from Angel’s grip, disgusted at the man standing in front of her as her emotions began to get the better of her. “Just because you need a soul to play nice doesn’t mean all vampires need one. Spike’s doing fine without one.”
Angel maintained his distance as Buffy began to step closer to him, her gaze now matching his in intensity. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Buffy now stood mere inches from Angel, the anger beginning to swell in her. “Without a soul, Spike helped me stop Glory from turning this planet into Hell on Earth. Without a soul, Spike kept his promise to me and took care of Dawn when I died. Without a soul, Spike was there for me when I got pulled back into this hard, ugly, bitter world by my friends because they thought I was in pain.” Buffy waited for a response from Angel, believing that she had covered all of the major points of why Spike deserved a second chance. However, the response wasn’t what she expected.
“You seemed to say ‘me’ a lot just now. Any particular reason why?”
Buffy didn’t realize she had said me. Did she? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Angel subtly smiled as Buffy began to turn away from his eyes once again. “You do remember I’m a vampire, right?” Buffy slowly turned back to Angel, confusion now encompassing her person. However, with one word, her confusion quickly turned into fear. “Floppy?”
Did Angel hear her conversation with Spike before he came in? It was a hotel. Most likely, the walls were as thin as the corrugated boxes stuck in the garage back home. What could she possibly say? She felt trapped. That Angel had gotten the better of her. There was no reason to lie anymore. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” His tone softened as he remained in front of her. “Buffy, what were you thinking? This is Spike we’re talking about.”
“What? You’re going to get into another fight like you did with Riley?”
Angel frowned slightly, finally getting affirmation about his initial hunch. Buffy and Spike were definitely an item. “For God’s sake, Buffy. Tell me this isn’t serious.”
Buffy retorted quickly, hating the fact that Angel was treating her like a little girl now. “And what if it is?”
Angel sighed, the requisite lack of air following, as he spoke. “I’m just looking out for you, Buffy. I just want you to be safe.”
“Well, that’s not your job.” Buffy could feel herself on the edge of tears. How dare he try and condescend her. “This is my life, and I’ll do with it whatever I damn well want.”
She expected him to argue that point with her. Instead, he remained calm, asking her one simple question. “Do you love him?”
Her answer was almost instinctual. “I do.” She expected Angel to lose his temper and point out all of the reasons why her being with Spike was, among all the blunders in the world, the worst. As she prepared herself for the worst of it, Angel surprised her once again, his tone calm yet intense.
“You sure? Do you really know what that word means?”
Confusion now mixed with Buffy’s initial anger, her tone reflecting both. “What are you getting at?”
“It’s just that, I can count two distinct instances in your life where you thought you were in love. Me, for one.” He nodded his head slightly to indicate his example. “And Riley. And, as far as I can see, those didn’t turn out so well. So, what I’m getting at is, are you sure you’re really in love with Spike?”
Buffy hesitated as Angel’s words began to sink in. “Of course I love him.”
Angel nodded once again, indicating he believed Buffy’s statement. “Fine. But you’ve got to ask yourself this. What makes Spike different than the others that came before him? Hell, Riley should have been the one. He could have given you everything you deserve. A picket fence. The two point three kids. He could have given you normal. But, then again, in your line of work, it’s hard to distinguish emotions when all you see is anguish and death.” Angel paused, wanting his words to sink in before he continued. “So, what I’m getting at is, are you sure it’s love you’re feeling for Spike? Or is it something that you think might be love? Like you did with me and Riley.”
Buffy opened her mouth slightly, about to answer the question. However, as quickly as her mouth opened, it closed once again. Her gaze locked with his, the anger once permeating her being quickly seeping away from her, confusion now holding a monopoly on her emotional state. Confusion and something else. Something she couldn’t identify.
While the two stood in silence, Angel’s words beginning to make her question her feelings, a shrill tone echoed in the room, shattering the silence. Buffy looked quizzically at Angel as he pointed to her hip. Buffy eventually deciphered Angel’s gesture, her hand sliding into her pocket. She casually pulled out the cell phone, holding the LCD screen to her face. The words flashed ‘HOME’ followed by her home phone number. It was most likely Willow since she’d be the only one home at this time of day.
“I…I have to take this.”
Angel nodded as he began to make his way out of the hotel room. He didn’t say a word as he walked into the hallway, realizing that maybe he had pushed too hard based on the lost look on her face. But, he was only looking out for her. God knew what Spike’s ulterior motive was.
As he pondered this point, Buffy’s gaze still remained on the phone in her hand. It continued its annoying shrill as she finally realized what that feeling was in the back of her mind. She rarely felt it, but when she did, she knew that it wasn’t to be taken lightly. Especially in her line of work. There was no mistaking it. It was fear. Fear that Angel might be right.
It was all Cordelia could do to keep Fred calm. When they had returned from Pylea, Fred had been an emotional mess, keeping everything inside. Now, Fred was the exact opposite as her tears continued to trickle down her face, mascara beginning to stain the top of her cheeks.
Fred remained huddled close to Cordelia’s side, Cordelia wrapping one arm about her friend’s shoulder. Cordelia delicately squeezed Fred’s shoulder, pulling her closer. It had been about six hours since they brought Gunn into the hospital. She knew that Angel wanted to be there for Gunn. But someone had to stay with Lorne just in case he took a turn for the worst.
Still, it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt Angel that he couldn’t be at both Lorne’s and Gunn’s side. But, there it was. The world kept going, even when friends got sick. Got hurt. And with the world continuing, so did the evil in it. It was a thankless job, but someone had to stand up for the little guy. For the people that didn’t know that there really were things that went bump in the night.
It had taken all of Cordelia’s shrewdness as well as a little pleading to convince Angel to remain at the hotel with Lorne while Fred and herself stayed with Gunn. If Angel had his way, both Lorne and Gunn would be getting treatment at the hospital, damn the consequences.
“What do you think they’re doing in there?”
Cordelia looked down at Fred, her tears subsiding as she tried to speak. Six hours. What could they possibly be doing, indeed. “I don’t know, honey. But Gunn’s in good hands.” She gently smiled as she brushed a strand of hair from Fred’s forehead. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
“How can you be so sure? God, Cordelia. He was so still and covered in all that…” The word she was looking for was blood. Cordelia knew it. Fred knew it. But she never said it, the tears breaking through once again.
Cordelia reassured Fred with a gentle squeeze, her chin now resting on the top of her distraught friend’s head as she whispered. “It’s okay, Fred. Let it all out.” And she did. Cordelia felt the tears begin to seep through her blouse, Fred’s makeup most likely ruining the shirt. But, that didn’t matter. She could always get another blouse. Another friend, that was a different story. “Hey, I’ve got the hookup to the Powers. If Gunn were really in trouble, they would have cued me in. Right?”
Fred’s sobs intermittently escaped from her lips as she slightly nodded her head. That was good. She finally had something to hold on to. The hope that Gunn would pull through. But six hours?
“Got room for one more?”
Cordelia turned her head toward the new yet familiar voice. “Spike? What are you…”
He answered her question without ever hearing it. “Figured you two could use some company, is all.” He knelt in front of Fred, his hand gently cupping her chin as he moved her gaze to his. “How you doing, pigeon?” Spike gently moved the pad of his thumb under her left eye, wiping away the tear remnants. His reward was a gentle smile.
“I’m so worried about Charles. The doctors won’t tell us anything. And it’s been so long since…”
Spike spoke, his voice reassuring. “You two wait here. I’ll go see what I can find out, okay?” Fred gently smiled as Spike looked over to Cordelia. “Just make sure the pigeon’s okay, yeah?”
Cordelia nodded slightly, somewhat in awe, as Spike walked toward the Nurse’s Station to find out any information about their friend. She could finally see what Angel meant. It was definitely weird, seeing Spike act like this. Well, there was the fact that she was basing his behavior simply on word of mouth. She’d only seen him a few times, but didn’t really know him. She knew of him, though. Of when he tortured Angel for the Gem of Amara. Angel had filled in the blanks, but judging on Spike’s current behavior, Cordelia had to wonder if Angel had exaggerated some of the finer points.
Maybe they were wrong about him? Just misjudging him. Cordelia knew something about being misjudged. Before starting her life over in Los Angeles, she always had the moniker of spoiled brat, snob, and God knew what else following her around. It wasn’t until Angel that she realized what kind of person she could be. That there was kindness under that once rough exterior.
“Hey, Cordy.”
“Hey, Angel.” Wait. What? She almost did a second take, her neck almost suffering from whiplash as she turned her gaze from Spike’s vanishing form to Angel, now standing in front of her. “Angel? What are you…”
“Needed to get out for a bit.”
“Especially on a nice, sunny day like today.” Angel smirked at his friend’s sarcasm as his gaze remained on the figure moving down the hallway. “And what about Lorne?”
“Buffy’s there. Lorne’ll be fine.” He finally turned his attention to the two women situated in the plastic chairs that looked something like a chain gang, each attached to the adjacent by means of a long metal bar. “How long has he been here?”
Cordelia didn’t have to ask whom he was talking about. It was obvious as Angel’s gaze returned to the figure now conversing with the nurse at the reception desk. Fred finally spoke, her tears now under control. “He just got here. He wanted to wait with us.”
Angel let out a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a grunt. As his hands found their way into his coat pockets, Cordelia spoke her mind. “Why are you really here, Angel?”
His gaze returned to the two women. More to the point, to Cordelia’s. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” She would have gotten up and looked him right in the eye to call him a bad liar, but Fred was still bundled in her arms. “Ever since Buffy and Spike have been here, you’ve been giving him a hard time.”
She expected him to lash out about Spike’s constant villainy and lack of moral fiber. So, it came as a surprise when Angel’s reaction was anything but hostile. “You’re right. People change.” He turned his gaze back down the hall, seeing Spike now walking in the group’s direction. While the others couldn’t see his face, Angel could. And the slight grimace on Spike’s face couldn’t be denied. There was definitely apprehension between the two men. The question was, why? It had been years since either had seen the other. Their lives were no longer linked. So, what was the reason for the tension? Simple answer, Buffy. Complicated answer? That was a bit trickier.
Spike did his best to hide his disdain for the man in front of him as he spoke. “No word yet. But he’s out of surgery, if that means anything.”
Fred weakly smiled, the news a ray of hope. “He’ll be hungry. We should get something for him so when he wakes up, he’ll be able to eat.”
Angel was about to dismiss Fred’s observation, but Spike’s subtle headshake stopped him as Cordelia spoke to the woman in her arms. “That sounds like a good idea. Let’s go see what they have in the cafeteria. We can grab something to eat while we’re there.” Fred nodded slightly as she wiped the tear remnants from her face. As they got up from their seats, Cordelia turned to the two men, utter contrasts if she ever saw one. “You guys want anything?”
“I’m good.”
“No thanks.”
Cordelia didn’t mean to smile, but their answers were almost in unison. The men seemed to notice this as well, each now looking at the other uncomfortably. “Well, you guys play nice while we’re gone.”
Fred added her two cents before they walked down the hall looking for the cafeteria. “And let us know if there’s any news about Charles.”
Angel was about to reassure his coworker and friend, but Spike beat him to the punch. “’Course, pigeon. Now, go on and get a bite. We’ll let you know if he comes to.”
While Cordelia and Fred turned the corner, disappearing from their sight, Angel broke the silence between them, the hum of electricity in the air. “So, what are you doing here?”
“Just checking in on our friends.” Our? That wasn’t the Spike Angel knew. Maybe Buffy was right. This Spike wasn’t the same person he knew once upon a time. “Not that it’s any of your sodding business.” Then again.
“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”
Spike chuckled softly, cynicism lacing its tone. “And how’d you figure that? Was it before or after you tried to stake me?”
“I deserve that.”
“Damn right you do. And another thing…”
Angel disrupted Spike’s rant, his muscles tense from the infuriation now coursing through his body at the aspect of what he was trying to do. “Spike, would you shut up so I can apologize?”
Spike stepped back slightly, maybe out of shock, maybe out of curiosity. Either way, the bite in his tone was gone now. “Apologize?”
“Yeah.”
“To me?”
Angel chuckled slightly at Spike’s confusion as he spoke. “Yeah, to you.”
Spike tilted his head at Angel, the palm of his hand now massaging the back of his neck. After a moment of silence, Spike’s voice softly escaped from his lips. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”
“What?”
“I’m dead, and this is hell.”
The annoyance quickly emerged once again in Angel’s tone. “What are you talking about?”
“This must be hell because…”
“…I’m apologizing to you?”
Both men looked at each other before sharing a laugh. Spike ran his hand through his hair as Angel’s laughter began to abate. “You’re right. This can’t be hell.”
“And you’re sure of this, how?”
Spike smirked as he answered the question. “Because your hair isn’t smothering me to death.” He quickly moved out of the way of Angel’s fist, thrown playfully, but probably with some force behind it as well.
“You’re a bastard, you know that?”
“Well, what’s the saying? Takes one to know one?” Angel nodded in affirmation while Spike moved to one of the seats once occupied by the female contingent. Angel followed suit while Spike queried Angel once again. “So, how’d you get here? It’s not like they make SPF 1000.”
“I use the sewers to get around during the day.”
“Well, that answers my next question about the pungent odor.”
“Shut your trap, alright?” Another shared chuckle between the two men as they situated themselves in the hard plastic curvatures called chairs, waiting for any news about Gunn’s condition.
Haruna’s fingers pulled along the asphalt of the parking lot, holding them up to her face, her thumb and forefinger gently rubbing the golden dust between them. “He’s performed the ritual.”
Gabriel knelt next to her, his eyes fixed on the ground as he spoke. “What do you think he was looking for?”
“There’s no telling.” Haruna gently brushed the gold flecks against her side as she turned her head to the side, looking at Whistler. “That’s why you’re here, magic man.”
“Hello. Demon here. And what I do shouldn’t be classified as magic. Magic’s something two clowns in Vegas do with their pet tigers in a dark room.”
Haruna sighed, disinterested in hearing Whistler’s speech about his special talents once again. “That’s all well and good. But you’ve got something we don’t. So get over here and do that voodoo that you do so well.”
Whistler grinned slightly as he moved toward his companions, his hat now in his hand. Haruna and Gabriel stood up, allowing Whistler better access to the artifact remains strewn across the drive-in asphalt. Whistler’s hand fell against Gabriel’s chest, the hulking beast looking on in curiosity. “Hold on to that, will you? Wouldn’t want it to get dirty.”
Gabriel took the hat from Whistler, no hint of humor in his voice. “Very well. Just show us what Dante saw.”
“Getting to that, big fellow.” He turned to Haruna. “You guys might want to step back. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any hurt feelings.” Neither objected, allowing Whistler a wide berth as they stepped back. Whistler nodded before kneeling in front of the golden dust on the ground. His hands came together in a loud clap, followed by his palms rubbing against one another. His lids slowly lowered, his eyelashes now twitching as Whistler clenched his eyelids shut. Then, without warning, his palms came down on the asphalt, the remnants of the relics swirling in front of him as though a storm cloud had decided to watch the curious ministrations Whistler was now going through.
Haruna and Gabriel maintained their distance as the grains of material continued to congregate in the air, beginning to form a definite shape. Haruna looked over to Gabriel, shooting him a ‘here we go’ look, Gabriel nodding his head in agreement. Before they knew what happened, the particulate matter created a circular border, a bright flash of light pouring out of the center. Had it been night, the light would have surely blinded anyone foolish enough to look directly into the center. Luckily, the sun overhead distorted the light enough to allow Haruna and Gabriel to look into the makeshift looking glass. Who knew, maybe Alice might step through?
Haruna raised her hand to her face, shielding her eyes from the light pouring from the ring created by Whistler. As she began to step closer to get a better look, Gabriel’s hand encircled her forearm. “This is close enough.”
Haruna nodded agreement before turning back to the images now being formed in the circle floating in front of Whistler, his eyes now squinting to see what Dante had been interested in. The images rippled, as though someone had thrown a pebble into a pond, the cascading waves interfering with the image. However, just like the ripples in a pond, the distortions eventually ceased, allowing the three companions to glimpse what Dante had the previous night.
A woman stood in a living room, a phone cradled in the crook of her neck. Her vibrant red hair was the first thing that caught Haruna’s attention. It was almost as red as hers. But, while hers was straight and shoulder length, Haruna’s was wavy, the length threatening to invade the small of her back.
Gabriel spoke, curiosity in his voice. “Why can’t we hear her?”
Whistler answered his companion’s query, his mind identify the familiarity of the environment in the circular cloud. “Because we’re not in close proximity of her. Theoretically, we could step through the image and hear what she’s saying, but I don’t think you two would find that particularly pleasant, now would you?” The silence was the only answer Whistler needed as his gaze moved about the living room, the redheaded woman obviously filled with joy as she spoke into the receiver.
As his gaze continued to examine the image in front of him, they suddenly stopped at the fireplace. More to the fact, the pictures on the mantle. So, that was why the room seemed so familiar. Because he had seen it from the outside once upon a time. Looking in at a Slayer that was mere hours from saving the world, even while that meant sacrificing the person that meant the world to her. Well, back then anyway. Today, it seemed as though there was someone else in her life. Someone that Haruna and Gabriel knew rather well.
That didn’t matter. All that mattered now was figuring out why Dante would be interested in the Slayer. Whistler removed his hands from the ground, the image quickly dissipating before the congregation of golden flecks fell back to the asphalt. He lifted himself from his knees before walking over to Gabriel. Gabriel tossed the hat over to Whistler, he placing it back on his head in one deft motion. “Well, boy and girl. It seems that we’ve reached an impasse.”
“How so?”
Whistler turned his gaze to Haruna as he tilted the brim of his hat slightly downward toward his forehead. “Because we’re in L.A. and Dante’s looking for someone in Sunnydale. The Slayer, to be more precise.”
Gabriel chimed in with an equally valid question. “So, do we stay here in Los Angeles and continue our search for Dante, or do we split up so we can cover both places at once?”
“Well, that’s up to our intrepid leader, now isn’t it, Haruna?”
Haruna didn’t respond to Whistler’s glib description of her position in the trio. Instead, she looked off into the distance, looking at nothing in particular as she mulled over the decision. Neither seemed a good choice, because each came with a downside. Stay together and allow Dante to continue with his machinations. Split up and weaken the group. She didn’t want to make the choice, but based on what was at stake, she was the only one capable of making it. “Gabriel will go to Sunnydale to keep an eye out for the Slayer. Whistler, you and I will continue our search in L.A. for Dante.” She finally turned around, her eyes gentle as her gaze met Gabriel’s. “You be careful.”
Gabriel smiled slightly, surprising Whistler. Who knew the big man had feelings? “As well as yourself, Haruna.”
Haruna nodded. “Keep in contact and let us know if anything happens. Anything at all.”
Gabriel nodded understanding before he began to walk away from the group. Whistler spoke, confusion in his voice. “You know, you could have just…”
Haruna spoke before Whistler had a chance to finish his statement. “Yes, I could have. But we’re working on a budget, unlike Dante. Every bit counts.” Whistler nodded, realizing that she was right. No reason for any immature expenditure when Sunnydale was just a bus trip away. “Now, come on, magic boy. We’ve got work to do.”
She gently laughed as she began to walk after Gabriel to exit the drive-in. Whistler feinted insult as he followed closely behind. “Hello. Demon. Are you not listening to me?”
“What’s that? I wasn’t paying attention.”
Fred looked on as Cordelia spooned another healthy helping of the green substance into her mouth. She began to wonder which one of them had the penchant for unhealthy eating habits. “How can you eat that stuff?”
Cordelia smiled at Fred, speaking between bites. “C’mon, Fred. It’s Jell-O. Everyone likes Jell-O.”
“Not me. There’s something troublesome about a food that doesn’t deform if you hit it with a hammer.”
A small chuckle escaped from Cordelia’s lips as she pushed the plastic container toward Fred. “What’s so scary about Jell-O?”
“I didn’t say scary. I said troublesome.”
“You say potato, I say too much starch.”
Fred meekly smiled as she looked down at the food tray sitting in front of her. “Do you think this will be enough? He’ll probably have an appetite when he wakes up.”
“Honey, maybe you should eat that. I’m pretty sure the nurses won’t let you bring that in for Gunn.”
Fred’s voice became passive, almost pleading, as she tried to voice her concern. “But Charles will be hungry when he gets up. The nurses will understand that, right?”
Cordelia smiled at her friend as her hand moved across the table, gently encircling Fred’s. She gave it a small squeeze as she spoke. “I know you want to take care of Gunn, but that’s the hospital’s job. You can take care of him when we get him home. Okay?”
Fred sighed, realizing that Cordelia was right. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to bring anything edible for Gunn. But, she had to do something. She hated this feeling. Of being helpless while the man that meant the world to her had his life in the hands of strangers. “Okay.”
“Good. Now, you gonna try some of this Jell-O or what?”
Fred playfully wrinkled her nose as she shook her head. “Nuh uh. You’d have to pay me to eat that stuff.”
“Fine. Your loss.” With that, Cordelia spooned another helping into her mouth, Fred mouthing ‘ewwww’ towards her friend. However, Fred’s playful countenance quickly returned to one of seriousness. Cordelia turned her body around in the seat, her eyes falling on Angel and Spike walking towards them. As they neared the cafeteria table, Cordelia queried the two men. “What is it?”
Angel answered while Spike shot Fred a subtle grin. “He’s awake.”
An amalgamation of a smile and a frown graced Fred’s face as she tried to comprehend Angel’s words. “He’s awake?”
“That’s right, pigeon. What’s say we go say hi?”
Fred quickly smiled at Spike as she rose from the bench, her mind no longer focused on the food on the red plastic tray. “Let’s go, guys.”
Angel turned his gaze to Fred, who was now standing next to Spike’s side. “You two go ahead. We’ll catch up.” Fred didn’t question Angel, simply because she was too anxious right at the moment. All she wanted to do was to see Gunn once again. Spike gave Angel a quick nod, Angel understanding his nonverbal sentiment. It was probably best if Fred had someone with her when she spoke to the doctor. Even Spike, as hard as that was to admit to himself. Fred gently wrapped her arm about Spike’s as they headed out of the cafeteria.
Angel turned his gaze toward Cordelia, who hadn’t moved during the whole conversation. Instead, she just looked at Angel, a troublesome look on her face. “What’s wrong, Angel?”
Angel sighed as he knelt next to Cordelia, their eyes now at the same level. “It’s bad, Cordy.”
“But you just said he was awake.”
“He is.” Angel hung his head slightly, Cordelia gently pulling his gaze back to hers by tilting his chin up. She looked on in anticipation, Angel’s tone solemn. “The doctor says there’s a good chance that Gunn might not be able to walk again.”
The disbelief was now evident in Cordelia’s voice, tears threatening to make their way to the surface. “How?”
“Gunn has severe swelling in the cartilage between the fourth, fifth and six vertebrae of his spine.” Cordelia shook her head, not understanding what Angel was telling her. Angel spoke the words he didn’t want to. “He’s paralyzed from the waist down. At least until the swelling goes down.”
“But the doctor doesn’t think that’s going to happen?”
Angel nodded, his voice soft. “Yeah.” Cordelia’s eyes closed, tears now seeping between her eyelids. Angel moved closer to her, gently taking her into his arms. Cordelia’s arms instinctively wrapped about his waist as her head lay on his shoulder. Angel gently smoothed her hair, speaking once again. “We should go. Fred’s probably gotten the news from the doctor by now.”
“Okay.” Angel and Cordelia stood up almost in unison, Cordelia wiping away the tears from her eyes. Then, without realizing it, she took his hand in hers. “Let’s go.” Angel nodded as they began to walk toward the double doors of the cafeteria.