Seas Between Us (Broad Have Roared)

Author: enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Do I have to say it? They aren't mine. If they were, I'd be nicer than Joss.

Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else just ask.

Summary: Set in an alternate Angel S5, wherein Andrew tells Buffy that Spike's alive after Damage and she does something about it, upsetting the power structure while she's at it.

A/N: This story takes place after Bring Out Your Dead, and may make a little more sense if you read that one first. The thing to notice is that Lindsey does not enter into this story. I didn't want to deal with the boy since I'm mostly ignoring canon. Just so you aren't terribly surprised.

 

Chapter 1: Crossing Oceans

 

"We two have run about the hills/And pulled the daisies fine:/But we have wandered many a weary foot/Since auld lang syne./We two have waded in the stream/from dawn to dinner time:/But seas between us broad have roared/Since auld lang syne./And there's a hand my trusty friend!/And give me a hand o' thine!/And we will take a large draught/For auld lang syne." ~Old Scottish ballad

 

"How are you feeling?"

Spike hadn't been expecting any other visitors. Angel had dropped by right after the Wolfram & Hart docs sewed/magicked his hands back on. Fred had popped her head in, and Wesley had already come by once. Seeing Wes for a second time surprised him.

Although, his melancholy mood might have had more to do with that than anything about the ex-Watcher. Seeing Andrew again had put Spike's within arm's length of Buffy in a sense, and he was missing her again. And feeling less than worthy of her.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling. Spike usually tried to bury those insecurities as deeply as possible.

To have Wesley come by for a second time felt good. It felt as though the other man actually cared, rather than performing the visit out of duty.

"Better," Spike admitted, looking down at his hands. They were mostly working as he wanted them to, but he still had a ways to go yet. He was damn lucky they'd been able to sew them back on at all. "Feel like a bit of an idiot still."

"You couldn't know what she would do, Spike," Wesley pointed out. "I don't think any of us were aware of what she might be capable of."

"Doesn't make it much better," Spike replied. "I was s'posed to be helpin' her. Instead, Angel had to come to my rescue."

Wesley's lips twisted into a smile at the distaste in Spike's voice and face. Spike and Angel still weren't getting along. He had to admit that he found their spats highly amusing at this point. "When are they discharging you?"

The vampire shrugged. "Dunno. 's not like I really have any place to go. Might as well stay here just for the bed."

Wesley frowned. It wasn't right that Spike was still without a place to live. The rest of them all had a home, either in the Wolfram & Hart building or elsewhere. "Why couldn't you stay at the hotel?"

Spike looked back at him sharply. He'd managed to get back into his clothing, which was an improvement over the hospital gown they'd insisted he wear. It allowed him to stand at the window, where he didn't feel so closed in. "What hotel?"

Wesley knew that Angel had kept the Hyperion. Angel had, in fact, made certain that it was paid off and free from meddling. He had no idea why the new CEO of Wolfram & Hart had felt it necessary to keep a building they never used, but it was there and it was empty.

Briefly, Wesley wondered why Angel wouldn't have informed Spike about it. "The hotel, which was our headquarters, before we came here," he explained. "It's not being used, and there's plenty of room."

Spike hesitated and then shook his head. "'s Angel's place. It'd piss him off if I was stayin' there."

"So?"

That one word stiffened Spike's spine as he realized exactly what he'd just said. Using the hotel would royally piss his grandsire off. It would also give him a base of operations. Spike was tired of sitting around on his duff, with little purpose. Wesley had sent him on a few errands—Spike thought it was probably out of pity—but it wasn't enough.

He needed to be doing something. If he had his own place, maybe he could.

"Where is it?"

"I can take you," Wesley offered. "It might be best if you not drive yourself for a while." He hesitated. "If you'd like to stay at my place until you're fully recovered, you'd be more than welcome, Spike. It's the least I can do."

"It's more than anyone else has done," Spike replied dryly.

Wesley smiled. "Yes, well, I still need to repay you for introducing me to Monty Python. A few nights on my couch will hardly cover it."

Spike grinned and shook his head. "We're still not caught up."

"No, we're not," Wesley replied. "Good thing I was planning on making it an early night. Are you ready?"

"What, now?" Spike asked, surprised. Then he shrugged. "Why the bloody hell not? The smell of this place was beginnin' to drive me crazy anyway."

~~~~~

Buffy leaned back into her seat on the airplane, forcing herself to relax. She still couldn't quite believe she was doing this. Jumping in a plane, flying back to L.A., with no plans other than to see Spike.

The Slayer was grateful for Andrew's inability to keep his mouth shut for once. She hadn't even minded his announcement that Giles had suggested he stay in Rome for a while. Any other time and Buffy would have been on the phone to her former Watcher posthaste, demanding that he re-assign Andrew. Possibly to Madagascar. That seemed like it might be far enough away.

It didn't matter, because she was on her way to L.A., and she wouldn't be seeing the pest. Buffy would be assuring herself that Spike was in one piece with all parts accounted for.

If he wasn't, she was going to kick some ass, big-time.

Buffy still wasn't sure how it had all happened—events had moved so quickly. Andrew had called, crowing over his success at retrieving Dana, and Buffy had only been half-listening. In fact, she'd tuned him out completely until what he was saying finally registered. Something about "Spike at his side, still striving for redemption, separated from the woman he loved," blah, blah, blah.

It had been the use of the present tense in that part of the story that had finally caught her attention. Andrew had obviously been hit on the head really hard, but when Buffy had stopped the boy and reminded him that Spike was dead, he'd blurted out the first thing that came into his mind.

"No, he's not! I'm not crazy, and it wasn't the First! Dana chopped off his hands."

That little tidbit was too wild for even Andrew to have made up, and Buffy had started pumping him for information. Fifteen minutes later she had hung up the phone, started packing a bag, and called Giles to let him know where she would be.

Giles had suggested that perhaps she wait until they could discover a little more about Spike and what he was up to, but Buffy was beyond caring at this point. If he was alive, she wanted to see him. End of story. Don't argue.

When Giles had tried arguing a little more, Buffy pointed out very calmly that as he had tried to kill Spike without her knowledge, she wasn't inclined to trust him at all. Not where it concerned the vampire anyway.

So Giles had wished her a safe trip, and hung up.

Buffy still winced when she thought about what a shambles their relationship had become. She wasn't quite sure when everything had changed, or even why. One day Giles was there, solid as bedrock. The next day he'd turned into quicksand, ready to destroy the one person who was keeping her sane.

These days, Buffy was less inclined to let anyone do that to her.

She had stayed at the apartment just long enough to let Dawn know what was going on and where she was going. Her sister had scribbled off a note and asked Buffy to give it to Spike. Then Dawn had hugged her and said, "You do what makes you happy, Buffy."

It had been enough.

Still, Buffy now found herself on a transatlantic flight with no idea of what she'd find when she arrived. There was every possibility that Spike had managed to move on, or that he wasn't interested in her anymore. They had never really spoken about their relationship.

She hadn't given him the chance.

"Maybe when," she'd said, holding hope just out of his reach. Buffy really had believed that either they would both die or they would both live. The possibility of Spike dying had never crossed her mind. Buffy had done the same to Angel, knowing at the time that it was horribly unfair.

It wasn't Angel. It would never be Angel again. Spike, on the other hand, had a fighting chance.

If she'd had it to do all over again, Buffy would have taken Spike right there on the kitchen floor and damn the consequences. She would have told him then that she loved him, that she wanted to be with him, that they were both going to make it out.

Buffy would have made Spike promise to survive.

But, no. She'd chickened out, and as a result, Buffy had watched him dust—or start to.

In the last few months, Buffy had managed to convince herself that Spike had known she loved him. He had believed her, but he'd said what he had to get her out of that cave.

Knowing that he was back and hadn't told her—that he'd been back for a while—made Buffy think that she'd been lying to herself again. Spike hadn't believed her, and thus he hadn't tried to find her.

Which brought her full circle, thanking her lucky stars that Andrew never had been able to withhold information.

Maybe there was a God.

Now she was on a plane, not knowing where Spike was or how he was doing, with only a small overnight bag and no return ticket. Buffy didn't know where she was staying, or who with, or even what she hoped to accomplish.

If Spike didn't want to come to Rome with her, would she stay in L.A.? If he did come with her, would he fit into their lives?

Should she even be doing this?

They were questions to which she had no answers.

~~~~~

"Nice place," Spike commented as he entered Wesley's apartment. It seemed to suit the ex-Watcher with its piles of books and slightly gloomy décor.

Wesley shrugged. "I don't use it much these days," he confessed. "I haven't ever really except for—" He stopped, unable to remember when it was he'd spent nearly all his time at his apartment, but just knowing that he had. He shook off the feeling in the next moment.

Spike wandered over to the TV, raising an eyebrow at the electronic equipment. "A Playstation, huh? Didn't know you were into that."

"I'm not," the other man replied quickly. At Spike's smirk, Wesley realized it was hopeless. "Gunn and I used to play," he finally admitted. "Sometimes Angel and Fred. Before—" He stopped again, wondering before what because he couldn't remember. It must have been before his relationship with Gunn had faltered as a result of their rivalry over Fred.

Spike started flipping through Wesley's games, noting that he had some good ones. "Too bad my digits aren't workin' like they should," he said, pulling out Mortal Kombat with a grin. "I'd kick your arse."

"That's what you would like to believe," Wesley returned, joining in the familiar banter. He'd known how to do this once upon a time. He had been able to joke with the best of them, holding his own. His mood had been so dreary for so long it was a relief. "I'll have you know that I'm an expert at mortal combat."

It was a deliberate play on words, and Spike's lips quirked upwards at the meaning. "Is that right? I think I'll have to see it to believe it."

"As soon as you have full use of your hands," Wesley replied. "I wouldn't want it to be said that I took advantage of an invalid."

"Not invalid," Spike returned. "'s merely work-related injuries. I'll be right as rain in another day or two."

A silence fell. "You were lucky."

"I know." Spike looked down at his hands. He couldn't seem to stop doing that, as though he needed to continually double-check to ensure they were there and attached. "You heard anything about that Slayer, then?"

Wesley shook his head. "No, and I doubt we will. Andrew seemed certain that our involvement with Wolfram & Hart disqualified us from being on the side of good."

"Doesn't it, though?" Spike asked. "No offense, mate, but that place isn't good for you. It'll suck your soul faster than a Fyarl shoots snot."

It was an interesting analogy. Wesley paused a moment over that image before he replied. "We have more resources. I'm sure that once we get settled—"

"You've been there how long?" Spike asked. "You're as settled as your gonna get. This really what you want to be doin' for the rest of your life?"

It wasn't. Spike had once again managed to see clear to the heart of the issue. Wesley was already tired of the routine, tired of the paperwork. At first, he had been able to maintain the belief that they could make a difference from the inside. Perhaps they would cause the beast to implode, or even better, turn its evil for good.

Wolfram & Hart was too big, though. A few people were just more grist for the mill, no matter how highly placed they might be. He wanted out, in a way, and Wesley had begun to thank his lucky stars that he'd never signed a contract.

He wondered if any of the others had.

They had all followed Angel into the belly of the beast, lured by things that were sure to appeal to their various weaknesses—or strengths. Not for the first time did Wesley wonder what exactly it had been that Angel received in exchange for taking the position.

"No, it's not." Spike was one of the few people he could be honest with, Wesley thought. The vampire wouldn't accuse him of selling out, or demand that he promise to stay. Spike wouldn't try to place a load of guilt on his shoulders for his thoughts. "I honestly don't know what I want these days, Spike. It's not this, but I'm not sure what else it would be."

"Fred?"

Wesley shot him a dirty look. "For once, Fred doesn't enter into this. I would like to see her beyond the reach of Wolfram & Hart, but that is a decision that she will have to make on her own. Unlike some, I respect her right to make those choices."

"Unlike who?" Spike asked, sensing a good load of gossip.

Wesley hesitated. "Last year, Fred discovered that her professor was the one responsible for sending her to Pylea." He waited until Spike's nod told him that the vampire had heard at least some of the story. "She wanted revenge. Angel and Gunn were going to prevent her from going after him herself. I told her what she was getting into and the likely results, and then I let her go."

"Big of you," Spike commented blandly. "Are you sure that wasn't to show up the other two?"

Wesley's smile was sardonic. "A little. I have always respected Fred's ability to choose for herself, however. It was one of the reasons I didn't fight it when she chose Gunn, and why I'm not pursuing her now."

Spike wasn't so certain that Fred wouldn't be amenable to Wesley's advances at this point, but he had decided to keep his mouth shut. They were both his friends, and until he had a better idea of Fred's feelings for the Englishman, it would be better to keep his nose out of it.

Of course, if he did find out that she had a yen for the man, Spike was more than willing to stir things up.

"Right then. It's your decision, mate."

"Bloody right it is," Wesley replied. Tired of the discussion and the direction it was going, he changed the subject. "Did you still want to watch a movie? I have a few to choose from."

Spike raised an eyebrow as he looked through Wesley's collection, unimpressed. "This is right pathetic, you know that?" He pulled out Notting Hill. "You own this?"

"Cordy liked that one," Wesley said quietly. "She always wanted to rent it, and after a while I bought a copy just so she could watch it when she was here."

Spike's face softened, the derision changing to understanding. "You want to watch it, then? For old times sake, like."

Wesley nodded quietly, appreciating Spike's sensitivity and his willingness to indulge a friend his time of remembrance. "For old time's sake," he agreed.

Spike nodded, and then smirked. "But we're watchin' something manly right after, you hear? I won't be polluting my brain with this shite if I can't purge it after."

Wesley smiled. "I also have the Lethal Weapon movies," he said. "Will that be manly enough for you?"

"Might do," Spike agreed. "That might just do."

 

 

Chapter 2: Little Did I Know

 

"Little did I know/that I almost let you go/Until I caught a glimpse of life/without you./ Little did I know/how deep these roots had grown/Until I felt the earth quake here/without you./And this ache is gonna break me love/until you come back home./Right or wrong/there is no home without you..." ~Over the Rhine, "Little Did I Know"

 

Buffy had decided to postpone the confrontation. It had been late by the time her flight had landed, and the last thing she wanted was to get into a fight.

Not that she planned on fighting with Spike, but there was probably no way to avoid seeing Angel.

Giles had warned her about Wolfram & Hart. They were apparently irredeemably evil, and for Angel to be working there indicated that he'd gone over to the dark side. Buffy honestly didn't have an opinion. Maybe Angel had gone over to the dark side. She wasn't sure she cared, as long as she wasn't the one who had to stop him.

It was harder to care about that sort of thing these days. Deep down, Buffy knew that the battle with the First should have been her last. She should have died. Involvement in the new Council or with the new Slayers, which the others seemed to have embraced with renewed vigor, left Buffy cold.

Not that she was completely apathetic. She and Dawn were not only getting along these days, but they were bonding. She was keeping in touch with the others through various means both magical and technological. Buffy had even been known to troll the streets of Rome at night, hunting for vampires.

She just didn't much care for the big end of the world stuff anymore. The Slayer felt she'd earned a break from apocalypses.

So here she stood in front of a huge office building after a less-than-restful night at a hotel, her stomach twisting into knots. Buffy very nearly turned and ran in the opposite direction.

Maybe Rodeo Drive was a better idea.

Buffy set her jaw. She'd come to L.A. to see Spike. She had faced down the First Evil and lived to tell the tale. She could face a couple of ex-boyfriends and come out on top. All she had to do was march in there, find Angel, and make him tell her where Spike was.

Piece of cake.

Right?

~~~~~

Wesley was wishing that he'd stayed home. He had left Spike sleeping on his couch, and he couldn't help but envy the vampire who had no reason to be at Wolfram & Hart unless it was to annoy Angel.

Angel, who was being his typical obtuse self.

Wesley sighed. "I told you, Angel. This is important."

"I have other things to worry about, Wes," Angel growled impatiently. "Do what you have to do to take care of it."

Wesley sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was the same old song. Angel was too busy to listen, too busy to care, even when half the employees were up in arms over a slight that had been made to some rather important demons. Apparently, one of the human employees had told a "your mama" joke to a Tek'lat demon, whose mothers were revered as gods.

The ensuing fight hadn't been pretty.

Lorne had been off with a client, and Gunn had been negotiating contracts, so Wesley had very little help settling things down. (Wesley was avoiding Fred like the plague, so he didn't know if she would have assisted him or not.) He found that he was being asked to settle things like this more often, and he detested it.

Wesley would have much preferred to stick to his books.

He was about to broach the subject of the Hyperion with Angel—without bringing Spike's name into things—when there was a commotion outside the door. Wesley straightened, his eyes brightening with interest. Perhaps if something smacked Angel in the face the vampire would sit up and pay attention.

"The boss is in a meeting! You can't go in there!" The last word ended on a squeak, and Wesley wondered who had managed to get past Harmony. She did try very hard.

He didn't have to wonder for long. The door was flung open and a woman Wesley recognized immediately stalked through. "Where is he, Angel?" she demanded without preamble.

Wesley leaned back in his chair, watching Buffy with interest. She had stopped in L.A. briefly after the battle with the First, although the group hadn't stayed long and he hadn't spoken to her personally. He'd noticed only that she appeared tired and worn, and with a Watcher's eye he could see that not much had changed now.

Wesley wondered what that meant for Spike's theory that Buffy hadn't really cared about him.

"Where's who?" Angel asked, playing dumb. There really was only one person Buffy could be asking him about.

"Spike, Angel. Where is he?"

"Now, Buffy—"

"Don't do that!" she spat out. Buffy had managed to work herself into a frenzy on the elevator ride up, knowing that she'd need the energy to deal with either or both of her exes. In the end, she'd come to only one conclusion. It was all Angel's fault. She had told him of the final battle, he'd watched her cry over Spike, and he'd still said nothing about Spike's return.

Angel should have at least had the decency to call her, especially since he was the one who knew where she was.

"Don't do what?" he asked, looking hurt.

Buffy nearly snarled. "Don't patronize me," she replied. "I know Spike is here somewhere. Andrew told me. So don't go giving me that innocent act, because I know you know where he is."

"Actually, I don't," Angel said, trying to keep his voice calm. He was feeling rather attacked, and for no reason. It wasn't his fault the bleached pest had decided not to contact the Slayer. Or, a Slayer now, but they would both always think of Buffy as the Slayer.

"I do," Wesley said quietly, knowing that Buffy probably hadn't even noticed his presence.

Buffy turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. She had caught glimpses of Wesley that summer when they'd passed through L.A., but hadn't gotten a good look. Buffy remembered now that Faith had made a comment about the changes their ex-Watcher had made, and she had to agree.

The man had turned out to be a hottie. That was new.

"Wait, you know where Spike is?" Angel asked. "You didn't say anything."

"You didn't ask," Wesley replied easily. Looking back at Buffy, he said, "Spike's staying with me until he fully recovers. I could give you a ride over there if you'd like."

Angel frowned. "Wait a minute. That's all you're going to say, Buffy? You're not even going to give me a hello?"

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't come here to say hello, Angel. I came here to see Spike. And if you'd done me the courtesy of letting me know he was back from the dead, I might think about being more polite. As it is, you're just lucky I'm not kicking your ass right now. Let's go, Wes."

She marched out, obviously expecting Wesley to follow her. He stood slowly, a smile playing around the corners of his lips. Well, that had been refreshing.

"What about this mess with the Tek'lats?" Angel demanded. "Aren't you going to handle it?"

"I'm in charge of archives and research, Angel, not human resources." Wesley smiled. "I think you'll do just fine."

He followed Buffy out, putting a gentlemanly hand at her back to show her to the elevators. "How was your flight?" he asked politely.

"Long," was her reply. "You're looking good, Wes. I like the new look."

"Thank you." He punched the button for the parking garage. "You're not looking too bad yourself."

Neither of them saw a concerned Fred staring after them, or the jealousy in her eyes.

~~~~~

Buffy decided that she wasn't surprised when she saw Wesley's SUV. It wasn't just Faith's comments—and Willow's now that she thought about it—it was his attitude. Wesley just radiated confidence.

How the hell had that happened?

"Is he okay?" Buffy asked as soon as they got into the car.

"Spike?"

"Yeah." She hesitated. "Andrew said he'd been hurt."

"We have some very skilled people at Wolfram & Hart," Wesley commented. "They were able to sew his hands back on. Spike should be good as new in another couple of days."

Buffy was quiet. "How is he otherwise? I mean, he hasn't called."

"You'll have to talk to him about that," Wesley replied quietly. "This hasn't been easy for him."

Buffy wanted to reply that it hadn't been easy for her either—but that wasn't fair. She well remembered the months of disorientation coming back from the dead had caused—and not just the resurrection. It had been hard to come back the first time, and she'd only been gone for a couple of minutes.

She had no idea what Spike had gone through in the last few months, but she knew what had come before, and she knew what had happened in that cavern.

He hadn't believed her after all.

That would change.

"No, it probably hasn't," was all she said. After a few moments, Buffy asked, "Why Wolfram and Hart, Wes? Giles seemed pretty convinced that it couldn't be anything good. Is Spike involved there? I couldn't get a clear answer from Andrew."

Actually, it was more that she hadn't waited for a clear answer from Andrew.

Wesley blinked, trying to sort out the questions from the comments and decide which to answer first. "We took over the law firm because we thought we would be able to accomplish more with the resources at our disposal."

"You don't sound very sure of that right now." Buffy's sharp ears had caught his hesitation.

He sighed. "That's because I'm not, although I honestly don't know what I'm going to do about it right now. As for Spike, he's connected in some way, but not by choice. The amulet I believe he wore to close the Hellmouth was sent to Angel. When he opened the package, Spike appeared. Andrew did tell you he was a ghost for a while, didn't he?"

"I didn't let him get that far," Buffy admitted.

Wesley, knowing Buffy's impatience, merely smiled. "Yes, well, Spike got a box in the mail, something flashed, and he was solid again. We're still not sure how it happened, or what might have been behind it."

"What if he wanted to leave? Would he be able to?"

 

"There's nothing holding him here, Buffy," Wesley replied, pulling up in front of his apartment building. "At least, nothing such as what you're talking about."

She wanted to ask if he knew why Spike hadn't come to her. Buffy knew that it would have been possible to at least pick up the phone and call. Wesley had been right, however. That was something she would have to ask the vampire.

Wesley handed her a key. "To the apartment," he explained. "There isn't much room, but you are both welcome to stay there."

She shook her head, grateful for his offer. "I don't think so, Wes, but thanks. I've still got my hotel room."

"How long will you stay?" he asked.

Buffy hesitated and then sighed. "As long as it takes, I guess." Although she didn't elaborate, Wesley understood. There were some things that didn't have a timeline.

~~~~~

Spike had given up on the video games after a while. His fingers were mostly working, but he needed to be in tip-top condition to survive in Mortal Kombat. Even Spike could get tired of losing.

There was little else to do in Wesley's apartment besides read, and he couldn't seem to concentrate on any of the available books. Spike wished he'd gone to the office with the ex-Watcher. At least then he would have been able to annoy Angel for a while.

That was about all he was good for these days.

Spike shook his head, angry with himself. He was brooding, and he never brooded. That was Angel's job description, not his. That Slayer, the crazy one, had shaken him up more than a little bit. Spike had gotten a chance to see himself through her eyes, and even though he wasn't the man she'd thought he was, it didn't really matter. As he'd told Angel, he could have been. He had done some truly horrible things.

It didn't do any good to brood, though. Feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to change anything.

The knock on the door surprised him. Spike hadn't thought Wesley received many visitors. He opened the door without looking and stared at what he saw.

"Buffy?"

"Hey."

It was impossible. She wasn't supposed to come to him. Even if Andrew had told her, Spike would have thought she moved on. Wasn't that what she was supposed to do?

"Buffy."

"That would be me." The Slayer had vacillated between being calm, cool and collected and throwing herself into his arms. At the moment, she was still trying to decide because Spike didn't appear to be all that welcoming. Had he gotten over her after all?

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked.

Hurt flashed across Buffy's face. "I'm here to see you."

"Why?" Spike asked, sounding bewildered.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Does the Hellmouth ring a bell, Spike? Big, flame-y vampire? Me saying I loved said vampire?" She tapped her foot impatiently, beginning to think that she needed to be action-girl. "Are you going to invite me in?"

Of course, out of respect to Wesley, they probably needed to take the action back to her hotel.

Spike stood aside, silently asking her to enter. "Did Andrew tell you?"

"Yes, he did," Buffy replied. "It's a good thing too, because I'm beginning to think that I would never have known."

He shrugged. "I didn't know what to say."

"'I'm back' would have worked," Buffy shot back. "What the hell were you thinking?"

Spike scowled, angry that she was already putting him on the defensive. "I was thinkin' that I went out a hero an' then I came back! I didn't know what you'd say!"

Toe-to-toe with him, Buffy got right up in his face, glad that he was barefoot and she was wearing her high-heeled boots. It allowed her to be nearly nose to nose without standing on tip-toe, which would have ruined the whole effect. "I told you I loved you, you big, dumb vampire!"

"Right after you'd been kissin' Peaches!" Spike shot back. "How the bloody hell was I supposed to know you meant it!"

"Because I did!" Buffy wanted to cry at this point. Spike was supposed to be the one who saw right through her down to the heart of things. He was supposed to just look in her eyes and know. "I loved you." Her voice softened. "You weren't supposed to die. We were supposed to have more time."

Spike took a step back. "Buffy—"

"Remember I said 'maybe when?'" she asked. "Well, now is when."

She was close enough to touch. That's what got Spike. He'd dreamed of this moment, of course. It had always ended with them making love, with declarations of undying devotion. He'd dreamed it so often at this point that he wasn't sure this was real. "What are you sayin'?"

Buffy decided the time for words was over. She kissed him. Full-on lips, tongues, hands holding him tightly, fingers tangling in the curls at his neckline. His hair was too slicked back, and so she made sure to muss it up with her questing fingers.

She felt it when he gave in, when Spike relaxed into her embrace. His fingers tightened around her waist, bringing her body flush against his. His lips and tongue forced her to move a little slower, and once Buffy felt him respond, she knew she could take her time.

They would get that time they deserved.

When Buffy finally broke off the kiss to breathe, she leaned back, staring up at him. "I'm saying that I meant every single word in the sense in which I don't want you to go anywhere ever again."

Spike frowned, still not quite able to believe it. His dreams did not come true, and this was feeling a lot like that. "Say it again," he demanded.

"I love you." Buffy raised an eyebrow. "And if you ever tell me I don't again, I will kick your ass six ways from Sunday."

 

Chapter 3: What I Remember

 

"The biggest lies are the little ones/when the look in your eyes is the distant one/Angel or demon/you know that they can share the same bed/I've laid awake so long/I've got them both inside my head/This is what I remember most about dying/So many moments like ghosts/slipping through my hands in vain/You were 80% angel/10% demon/and the rest was hard to explain..." ~Over the Rhine, "What I'll Remember Most"

 

Fred paused outside Wesley's office, trying to figure out how to word her question. She was dying to know who the girl was—the one she'd seen Wesley getting into the elevator with, all friendly-like. Fred was sure she'd never seen the woman before, and she didn't know why Wesley would be with her.

Her feelings about Wes were rather mixed at the moment. Fred knew that he loved her. What he had done for her—killing the thing that wore his father's face—without even a moment's hesitation—

Well, it both scared the daylights out of her and made her feel stomach feel all fluttery. What did a girl do with that kind of love?

The hard part was that Fred had never really looked at Wesley that way. He'd always been Wesley—strong, dependable, sweet. Then he sprang his feelings on her, and Fred could look back and see signs that he'd had strong feelings for a while. Wes had simply hidden them from her, and Fred wasn't sure if that made him a consummate actor or suggested that her woman's intuition was out of whack.

For a short time there had been Knox. Fred had dabbled; she could admit it. It had become obvious that having anything other than a professional relationship with an employee could be very bad, though.

Wesley was different.

So now she wanted to know who that girl had been without letting on to the fact that she was jealous. Fred still wanted to keep her feelings close to her chest, at least until she had them figured out.

The perfect excuse finally occurred to her, and Fred wondered why she hadn't thought of it earlier. She knocked, waiting for Wesley's voice to call, "Come in."

She saw it in his eyes as he looked up. He wasn't precisely happy to see her, and she tried to hide her wince. Things had become so strained between all of them. He had hidden his emotions behind a smile in the next moment. "Can I help you, Fred?"

"I was wondering if you knew where Spike was," she replied innocently. "I thought I might see if I could cheer him up today."

Wesley leaned back, putting his pencil down so he could give Fred his full attention. This was the first time since the affair with the cyborg that she had visited his office. "He's at my apartment, actually. I thought he might like to get out of here for a change."

"Oh." Thinking about it now, Fred felt badly that she hadn't done the same. Not that she would have been comfortable allowing Spike to stay at her apartment, but still. She could have done something more for him. Instead, once he'd become solid, she had gotten caught up in her own life again. "He's okay, isn't he?"

Wesley shrugged. "I'm not certain. I imagine that would depend on what Buffy has to say."

"Oh!" Fred exclaimed. "That was the woman you were with!" She turned bright red when Wesley raised an eyebrow, obviously catching the lingering emotion in her tone. An emotion he didn't quite recognize. "I saw you getting on the elevator earlier," she explained quickly.

"And you were curious?" Wesley asked quietly. "Of course. Well, Buffy was here to see Spike. I'm not sure I want to know what they're doing in my apartment right now, whether everything is going well or not."

Fred giggled. "Hopefully your furniture won't suffer too much."

Wesley's smile was pained. "I was trying not to think about that."

She grinned again, and then her smile faded to be replaced by a more thoughtful look. "Are you hungry?"

Wesley blinked. "What?"

"Are you hungry?" she repeated patiently. "Because I'm starving. I was thinking I might try to find some tacos."

He frowned slightly and then decided that he didn't have anything better to do. "I could eat."

"Good," Fred replied. "I hate eating alone."

Wesley winced, the memory of eating a TV dinner alone in his apartment stark. It must have been just after Fred and Gunn started dating. "Me too."

~~~~~

The problem with big reunions was what came after. It wasn't like either Buffy or Spike had much to tell the other. "So that's it, huh?" Spike asked.

"There isn't much more," Buffy admitted. "I haven't been into getting the new Council up and running. It's mostly just been me and Dawn hanging in Rome." That reminded her. "Oh, Dawn! She sent a note."

Spike frowned, taking the piece of paper Buffy held out to him. "She sent this?"

"Yeah, when I told her I was coming out." At the look on his face, she quickly said, "Dawn's completely capable of looking after herself for a while."

"How long?"

"I don't know." Buffy bit her lip. "I don't have a return ticket yet."

Spike drew in a deep, shuddering breath, opening the note and quickly scanning it. In Dawn's familiar, untidy scrawl, he read, "I don't hate you, and you'd better visit, or I will kick your ass." He chuckled.

"Can I see?" He handed the note over to Buffy who read it and rolled her eyes. "That's Dawnie," she commented. "What do you think, Spike? You could come back to Rome with me."

"I can't." The words were out of his mouth before Spike realized he meant them. And he did mean them. He couldn't leave right now.

Buffy met his eyes, nodding slowly. "Okay."

He was almost disappointed in how quickly she gave in. "Okay?"

"I told you I don't have a return ticket," Buffy replied quietly. "I can stay for a while. If you need to be in L.A., then I'll stick around."

"What about Dawn?" Spike asked, confused.

Buffy shrugged. "Like I said, Dawn will be fine. If I need to go back, I will, but long distance relationships are possible."

Spike frowned, trying to figure out exactly what she meant. "You're staying."

"With you," Buffy clarified. "If you want me," she added in a small voice. "I mean, you haven't said if—"

Spike shut her up with a kiss. "I want you," he said firmly. "It's just—'m a bit aimless at the moment, pet. Don't even have a proper place to stay."

She leaned into him. "Then maybe that should be our first step. We can get you set up in a place of your own."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, Angel has a hotel. Wesley was thinkin' I could use it. I thought—dunno. I thought maybe I could do somethin' from there." He sounded almost embarrassed as he added, "Help people, you know."

"Is that what you want to do?"

Spike thought that Buffy sounded interested rather than derisive. "Dunno. What else am I gonna do?"

"Whatever you want," Buffy replied with a smile.

He glanced over at her. "You don't seem to have an opinion on this, pet."

"The Hellmouth is closed, Spike. There are dozens, if not hundreds, of new Slayers ready and willing to fight the forces of evil." She gave him a dazzling smile. "I'm retired."

Spike grinned. "Bit young for that, aren't you, luv?"

"I've died twice," she reminded him. "So have you, for that matter."

"They say the third time's the charm," he pointed out.

"Don't even joke about that," Buffy said fiercely. "I just got you back."

"Buffy—" Spike had no idea what he had to offer her these days. Before he got his soul, it had been different. Spike had believed that he would be enough. Now, he wasn't so sure. Buffy deserved so much more.

"Do you still love me?" Buffy asked point blank.

"With all my soul," Spike confessed.

She nodded. "That's enough."

"Buffy, I have the clothes on my back an' my coat. That's it. Don't even have a place to live. I don't have anything to give you."

She stared at him. "Haven't you heard a word I've been saying?" she demanded. "I've spent the last few months believing that I would never see you again. All I want is you. The rest can wait."

"You sure 'bout that, luv? I mean, maybe you'd rather—"

Buffy put her hands on either side of her face. "Spike. Shut up."

"Got it."

They didn't say much for a quite a while after that.

~~~~~

In the end, they brought their food back to the office. Wesley had something he wanted to work on, and Fred offered to get some of her own paperwork so that she could hang out with him. Wesley wasn't quite sure what was going on. This was the most time Fred had spent with him since—

The memories kept sliding away from him, although it wasn't something that Wesley actually noticed. The strange sense of missing something was there and then it wasn't—almost before he noticed. So it was that every time something jogged his memory, something else kept Wesley from looking at it too closely.

In truth, Wesley didn't want to ask too many questions. Fred seemed to be seeking out his company. It didn't get much better than that.

Of course, he couldn't quite believe it was happening.

"Are you sure Knox doesn't need any help?"

Fred looked at him with wide eyes. "Why would Knox need any help?"

"Well, I thought perhaps that he might—need help. Or something." Wesley knew it was lame as soon as the words came out of his mouth, but it was too late to pull them back in.

Fred frowned. "It's fine, Wesley. They know where to find me, and Knox can handle the lab on his own for a while."

"Oh, well, that's good."

Wesley wished he could come up with something more to say, but he didn't have the words. He was trying to act as though everything was normal, but it wasn't. Fred was in his office, eating tacos, more comfortable with him than she had been in a very long time.

He frowned as he flipped open a folder. "This is interesting."

"What is?" Fred came over to look over his shoulder. Wesley could smell her faint perfume.

Wesley moved the pictures so that she could see better. "These attacks are highly unusual."

Fred made a face. The picture was of a man who had a rather large hole in his stomach. "The liver was cut out? That's creepy."

"Mmm," Wesley said absently, looking over the pertinent information avidly. It was more than creepy really. "This is something we ought to get on," he said. "Apparently, this is not the first time this has happened, and it most likely won't be the last."

Fred's hand crept onto his shoulder of its own accord. "Absolutely," she agreed. "We ought to get on that right away."

Maybe it would even take all night...

~~~~~

Gunn could feel it slipping away. All the knowledge, everything that made him special—it was disappearing.

For so long, he had been the muscle, the guy with the ax. He wasn't even unique in that area since Angel was stronger and faster. Wesley was the one with the books, and Fred was the techno-brain, and Cordy was the glue that bound everything together.

He'd just been the leftovers.

It had been Gwen that clued him in to the fact that he could be more. Even though her methods had been slightly underhanded, she'd shown him something about himself. She'd shown him that he could be smart and savvy.

No, Gwen had shown him that he was smart and savvy. There was a difference.

Then Wolfram & Hart had come along and offered him the chance to make it all real, to change his life. Gunn liked to believe that if life had been different, maybe he would have been a lawyer. He would have been the one to stick it to the Man.

Gunn would have done it on his own, if life hadn't been such a bitch.

Now he was frantic with worry, fearing that he was going to lose everything.

There was no way he was going to go back.

~~~~~

Angel held Cordy's lax hand in his own larger one. The machine registering her heartbeat bleeped—a constant, reassuring sound. Not even the excellent doctors at Wolfram & Hart could tell him whether or not Cordy would ever wake up.

"Buffy came by today," he said quietly. "She was looking for Spike. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Andrew told her. It just makes it all that much more final, you know? We aren't together anymore, and we never will be again."

His thumb was rubbing slow circles on her hand. "I wish you could tell me what to do, Cordy. Being here—I don't regret it. I can't, not after what they did for Connor, but it's all different. We're so spread out. I never see the others anymore. I miss the days when we were a team."

Angel rested his forehead on her bed. "I miss you," he whispered.

He didn't see her eyes pop open.

 

Chapter 5: Don't Go Anywhere

 

"I cry just a little bit/just a little bit/every day./Get by just a little bit/just a little bit/that way./I know, I know/I should have known./Bluer/than the blue devils/bluer than this pale blue angel./Bluer than all of my troubles/Love is never far from danger."~Over the Rhine, "Bluer"

 

Angel chuckled nervously. "You know, that's a funny question."

"Watch me not laughing," she said in all earnestness. Suddenly, all the fire went out of her. "I'm so sorry, Angel."

 

He stared at her. "For what?"

She rolled her eyes. "What do you mean, 'for what'? You were there, weren't you. That—bitch hijacked my body and used it—" Cordy's eyes narrowed to little slits. "When I get my hands on her..."

"You can't," Angel said. "She's gone, Cordy. Really gone."

Cordelia sighed. "Too bad. I would have thought up something really painful. So where am I again?"

"In the hospital," Angel said firmly. "We didn't know if you were going to—wake up." His voice cracked just a little on the last word, and Cordy put her hand over his.

She smiled at him. "Well, I'm awake now and definitely ready to get out of here." Her nose wrinkled. "I don't suppose my apartment is still mine."

"We had to move your things back to the hotel," Angel confessed. "After I saw you—"

She shot him a glare. "Do you know how bored I was?" Cordelia demanded. "I thought you were going to get me out."

Angel looked affronted. "You were happy!"

"I was bored!" Cordelia shot back, and then she sighed. "Never mind, Angel. It's done. Can I go back to the hotel now?"

Angel winced. "Well, you see, there might be a problem with that."

~~~~~

She wouldn't stop touching him. Right now, she was holding his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Spike didn't know what to make of it. It was nice—the fact that the feeling had definitely come back into his fingers was nicer still—but Buffy had never done anything like this before.

The Slayer had never been so public with him before.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

He glanced over at her sharply. "What? No, nothing's wrong, pet."

"You seem jumpy," she observed. "If you don't think you can handle this, that's fine, Spike. Maybe you should allow yourself to heal up a little more."

Spike shook his head. "Don't need fine motor control to handle an ax, now do I?"

Buffy's mind wandered to what Spike might do with his "fine motor control." She forced the idea to one side and focused on his face. He still looked uncomfortable. "Out with it."

"Buffy—"

"I'm all into talking and you're not saying anything," she observed. "So what gives?"

Spike sighed. "You're holding my hand."

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, but—you never held my hand before."

Buffy flushed. It was partly shame—shame that they had done so many other things but hadn't managed something so simple as holding hands. "Well, get used to it," she replied. "I plan on doing a lot of things we've never done before."

That sent Spike's eyebrows right up into his hairline. "Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," Buffy replied. They were in the elevator of Wolfram & Hart now, and she grinned. "Like kissing you in an elevator."

She was as good as her word, and when the doors slid open, they were still lip-locked. "Can't you two get a room?" Harmony huffed, staring at the couple.

Buffy broke away from Spike slowly. "Why? Jealous, Harm?"

"Oh, please," Harmony shot back. "I could have had Spikey anytime, but I've got my eye on something better. I'm a career woman now," she finished proudly.

"Sure you are," Buffy said, condescension dripping from her voice. "Harmony, Spike wouldn't—"

Spike shut her up with another kiss and quickly ushered her out of the elevator. He and Harmony's brief tryst was suddenly coming back to haunt him, and if Buffy found out about it she'd never forgive him.

Too late.

"Spike already had me," Harmony shot back as the elevator doors closed. "I was the one that broke up with him!"

Spike shut his eyes, hoping that Buffy believed the other vampire was referring to something in the distant—rather than the recent—past.

"What was she talking about?" Buffy demanded.

He hesitated. "It wasn't anything important."

"You slept with her, didn't you?" The Slayer's eyes had narrowed, and Spike knew he was in for it now. Buffy was going to stake him.

"It was a mistake?" he offered hesitantly. "I'd just become solid, and I—"

Her eyebrow arched, Buffy sweetly suggested, "You just wanted to feel?"

"Somethin' like that," he admitted. "Buffy, really, it wasn't anythin'. You know how I feel about you."

"I'm beginning to have my doubts," she replied coolly. "You don't come see me, you don't even call, and you sleep with Harmony. What am I supposed to think, Spike? I guess you really don't want anything to do with me."

She tugged her hand out of his and started back down the hall, away from Wesley's office. "No, Buffy! That's not it at all!"

The Slayer stopped. She was hurt, but not nearly as much as she was pretending. Buffy knew exactly why Spike had slept with Harmony immediately after becoming solid again. After months of not being able to touch anything, why wouldn't he have wanted to connect? And why had Spike been with Harmony in the first place, except for the physical comfort? It wasn't like he had been with her for the conversation.

She turned to face him, and the guilt hit her when she saw the panic and fear on Spike's face. "I'm not going anywhere," Buffy finally assured him. "But from now on, I'm the one you sleep with if you want to feel. Got it?"

"Why would I want anyone else when you're here?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Buffy remembered how sweet Spike could be when he wasn't putting his foot in his mouth. "Good. Then we can finish this conversation at my hotel, after we kill the demon."

Something shifted in his eyes. "Your hotel, huh?"

"You got a better suggestion?" she asked.

Spike was ambivalent about starting out their relationship in bed again. "You sure, pet?"

"I told you, I'm not letting you out of my sight," Buffy replied. "We can decide later exactly what we're going to do in my hotel room."

~~~~~

Fred leaned back in her chair wearily. "I didn't realize you had so much going on, Wes."

His in-box was still half full, and they had been going through files and reports all day. In some ways, that was the problem with being at Wolfram & Hart. Working with Angel had often been overwhelming, sometimes down-right terrifying, but they rarely knew about so many things going wrong as he did on any given day at the law firm.

In fact, there was so much information, there was little he could effectively do about any of it.

"I've been letting it pile up," Wesley admitted, placing another completed report in the out-box. At least he'd managed to accomplish something, and Spike would be arriving any minute to take care of the liver-eating demon—otherwise known as the Fraickes. Were the truth to be told, that was why Wesley had been giving Spike jobs to do. While he had known the vampire was at loose ends, it was more to salve his conscience, so that he could tell himself that he really was doing something.

"Too overwhelming?" Fred asked sympathetically.

Wesley nodded slowly. "Something like that, yes. Plus, I've had to deal with several of Angel's messes, things he ought to be doing as the head of Wolfram & Hart."

"Do you ever wonder if we're in the right place, Wesley?" Fred asked. It was a rare moment of introspection for her. Normally, she was too busy to think about whether or not she was doing the right thing in being there. Sitting with Wesley, however, helping him go through his files—it all reminded her of the days when they'd simply been private investigators.

When he had been "just Wesley," her friend. There were all kinds of regrets that fluttered through her mind like moths from old clothes.

She had so many regrets when it came to Wesley. After what she'd told him—

Fred stopped. What had she told him? She couldn't remember the words she'd used now, only that she had hurt him terribly.

"Every day," he said, a sudden desire for honesty bubbling up. "Do you—would you ever think about leaving here?"

She hesitated. "I don't know. Do you think we should leave Angel?"

"Perhaps if we left, he would follow," Wesley suggested, looking around warily. "I don't know that this is the place to talk about it, though."

"You're right," Fred replied quickly. "Maybe once we let Spike know what's going on, we could go have a drink somewhere and—talk."

Wesley's eyes went wide as he tried to figure out what she meant by that. "I don't—"

"You got a demon for us to kill, mate?" Spike asked, striding into the office, unaware that he'd just broken the moment. Wesley stifled the irrational urge to snap at the vampire. After all, he was the one who had called Spike in.

Wesley sighed. "That's right. It's called a Fraickes demon, and it eats—"

"Livers, yeah," Spike finished. "I've seen 'em before. Nasty buggers."

"Yes, well, I was hoping you might be able to stop it before it kills any other people. I didn't want to bother Angel with it."

Spike snorted. "The Great Poof is getting above this sort of thing, yeah?" He hesitated and then asked, "Can I talk to you for a minute, mate?"

The vampire pulled Wesley off to one corner of the office, leaving Buffy and Fred to stare at one another. "I'm Buffy Summers," the Slayer said, introducing herself.

"Oh, I'm Fred," the other woman said. "Well, Winifred Burkle, actually, but everyone just calls me Fred." She stopped, knowing that she was beginning to babble. "So you're Buffy, huh? Spike's talked a lot about you."

Buffy made a face. "I hope he said something good about me."

"He really likes you," Fred confided. "I can tell."

Buffy sensed the opportunity to get some dirt. "So what has he been doing around here?"

In the corner, Spike was holding a whispered conversation with Wesley. "I s'pose I'm goin' to be stayin' with Buffy until I get somethin' more permanent. You still thinkin' the hotel?"

"You're not going back to Rome?" Wesley asked, real surprise in his voice. He had expected Spike to be on the next plane out of L.A. once he knew Buffy's purposes. The ex-Watcher had to admit to feeling a sense of relief. He hated to think he'd be losing another friend, although it would be to distance this time.

Spike shook his head. "They don't need me in Rome," he said. "Until we get this thing with Wolfram and Hart settled, and I know what they wanted with me, 'm not leavin'." He glanced over at Fred and Buffy, who were giggling. "You ought to ask her out, Wes."

"What?" Wesley said. "I don't think so."

Spike cocked one eyebrow. "Why not? 's obvious she fancies you."

"We're just friends," Wesley replied repressively. "Fred doesn't view me in that way."

Spike just smirked. "Whatever. All I'm sayin' is don't miss your chance."

"I think we may be going out for a drink after you leave," Wesley admitted. Then, lowering his voice further, he whispered, "I think Fred might be contemplating getting out of this place."

The vampire nodded in a satisfied manner. "Good. Be better for both of you." He glanced back over at the women who appeared to be getting along just fine. "Maybe tomorrow you could show me this hotel of yours. Meet you back here in the afternoon sometime?"

"That would be fine," Wesley acknowledged. "Be careful tonight, Spike."

Spike smiled. "With the Slayer watchin' my back, I'll be right as rain."

Meanwhile, Fred and Buffy were making plans for the next day. "Are you sure you don't mind?" Buffy asked.

"No, I think it'll be fun," Fred insisted. "I haven't had a chance to have any girl-time since—well, since Cordelia left. I like the guys, but it's nice to get away."

Buffy nodded. "I could see that. Although, with all the Slayers around, I could usually use some time away from all those girls. Teenage girls at that."

They both winced, thinking about it. "I'd like to do some shopping," Fred said.

"Good," Buffy said. "That's settled. It's probably a good thing that Spike isn't going with me. I wanted to pick up a few things for him, and I think it'll go more smoothly if he isn't around to object to anything."

Fred giggled. "Good luck. Does he ever wear anything else?"

"Sometimes," Buffy said with a sigh of longing. She remembered Spike wearing color, and she wanted to see him wearing it again. "So we'll meet here tomorrow, and take off."

"Sounds good," Fred agreed. "You can tell me all about Wesley before he came to L.A."

Buffy laughed. "Sure, and you can tell me everything that Spike's been doing for the last few months."

"Ready to go, pet?" Spike asked.

Buffy shrugged. "Sure. I'm always ready to kill a bad guy."

"Right." Spike grinned. "We'll take the company car."

 

"You have a company car?"

"No, but Angel has a whole garage full."

Wesley and Fred watched them leave, bantering back and forth, and Wesley looked back at his in-box. He was still woefully behind, and he probably should be thinking about pulling an all-nighter, just to try and get through the worst of it.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Fred asked. "I'm kind of hungry."

"Again?" Wesley asked, thinking about the mountain of tacos she'd consumed earlier.

Fred shrugged. "Lunch was a long time ago."

Wesley considered it for a minute, looking at the stack of correspondence, and then longingly at the door. "Let's go then," he replied, grabbing his jacket. "I could use a drink."

Fred impulsively grabbed his arm—just what she'd do with any guy friend, she told herself. "Me too. And maybe more than one."

 

Chapter 6: Take Two

 

"You were the hand I tried to take/You're the decision I could not make/You're the religion I should forsake/You were the story I tried to tell/You're the savior that tripped and fell/Beautiful dancing infidel/Who will guard the door/When I am sleeping...I'm not sleeping/You were the season that would not change/I often was the same..." ~Over the Rhine, "Who Will Guard the Door"

 

This was what had been missing, Buffy realized, right about the time that they found the Fraickes. Wesley's information had been right on the money, and the demon loomed before them with a wily grin. It was more intelligent than many of the other demons she'd seen, and it was scary-big.

"Did Wesley say anything about it being that size?" Buffy asked. Eight feet of demon was a little much, even for her.

Spike shook his head jerkily. "Might have been a good idea to have backup on this one."

"We can take it," Buffy said confidently. "No problem." His lifted eyebrow was a pointed question. "We've handled stuff this big before."

Now the second eyebrow joined the first. "When?"

Put that way, Buffy couldn't think of a time when they'd faced down something this big together. There had been Glory, but that was a case of size not mattering. The Turok-Han and the 'Bringers were all about numbers. "Do you have a better idea?" she challenged.

"No, your idea is fine," Spike replied. "Just thinkin' it might not be so easy after all."

Buffy sighed. The beast was moving towards them now at a pace that should have been impossible for something that size. "Low and high?"

"Only if you're goin' low." Spike was off in a flash, jumping to the top of a pile of boxes so he could launch himself at the demon from some height.

This really was what had been missing. They were in some nearly deserted part of L.A., where the garbage and detritus usually ended up—including people. The last victim had been a homeless person, but there had been some concern that the Fraickes would start hunting in a more populated area. Spike had told her on the way over that Fraickes couldn't procreate without a certain number of livers eaten. More of the creatures was the last thing they needed.

It wasn't the scenery that Buffy had missed. Rome had its fair share of back alleys and dangerous parts of town, although they tended to look less modern. It was the fact that she was here with Spike.

She had missed him like a person misses a limb—you could go on without it, but life was never the same.

She darted forward once she saw Spike engage the demon, getting a good blow to the head in with his ax. Buffy decided that the monster would be easier to work with if it was more on their level, and so she used the sword she carried to cut along the backs of its legs, hoping that hamstringing it would actually do some good.

The Fraickes bellowed and toppled over, almost catching Spike unawares. The vampire didn't stay surprised for long, however. In the next moment, Spike had cut its head off with one sharp blow, sending it rolling off into the shadows, and covering him with its blood when it exploded.

Spike grimaced, wiping at his face with a coatsleeve that did nothing more than spread the goop around. "Forgot about that."

Buffy was just glad she had managed to be out of the line of fire. "You can get cleaned up back at the hotel," she said. "Do you need to stop somewhere and get some clean clothes?"

"Don't have anything else," Spike replied, pouting.

Buffy shrugged. "I think the hotel has a washing machine and dryer we can use. If we get your stuff in there tonight, you should have something to wear by tomorrow."

Spike sighed. "The coat took the worst of it. That's never going to be the same again."

At the last second, Buffy decided to keep her mouth shut, even though she wanted to tell him he could lose the coat. She seemed to remember that it was her fault he was wearing it again. "Maybe you could take it to the cleaners."

"Maybe," Spike said mournfully, stripping out of his duster. Sure enough, the coat had taken most of it, leaving his jeans and t-shirt spotted with the blue gunk, rather than soaked in it.

Buffy grabbed his free hand. "Come on, Spike. I think it's time to get out of here. We still need to talk."

Spike wasn't sure how he felt about this promised talk, not when he kept expecting Buffy to disappear.

~~~~~

Cordelia wasn't going to be stopped. "I'm not staying here one more second, Angel."

Angel watched helplessly as she looked around for her clothes. "Cordy—"

"I understand why you did it, but it was stupid," she said, still looking for something to wear. "This is Wolfram and Hart, Angel! They wouldn't have offered you this deal unless there was something in it for them."

Angel glowered. "I didn't have a choice. Connor—"

"Connor was crazy and now he's not. You told me." She turned to face him, hands on hips. "Seriously, Angel, what were you thinking? Wiping everyone's memories, sending Connor away—what is he going to think when he finds out he's stronger than your average kid? He's going to freak out, that's what, and there won't be anyone there to help him out." She huffed. "I can't believe you."

"Then tell me what else I could have done," Angel demanded. "You weren't there to help me out, and it was my job to save him. How else was that going to happen?"

Cordelia sighed, a sound that Angel remembered very well. "I don't know, Angel, but the last thing you should have done was to join Wolfram and Hart. They're evil, remember?"

"I'm in charge, and I'm not evil," Angel said stubbornly.

Cordy wasn't so sure about that. Angelus was a sneaky bastard, and it would be just like the law firm to try a slow sort of corruption. "Well, I'm not staying here another night."

Angel felt a moment of panic. If Cordelia wasn't going to stay, what the hell was he supposed to do with her? "Cordy—"

"I don't mind staying at the Hyperion," she continued relentlessly. "Or with Wesley or Fred. I'm sure they wouldn't mind putting me up." Cordelia frowned. "In fact, I really need to talk to Wesley."

Angel sighed, knowing when he was fighting a losing battle. When Cordelia was in this sort of mood, there was no dissuading her. She would do exactly what she wanted to do, and run right over him in the process. "I'll see if Wesley's available."

Cordelia watched him leave the room and then hugged herself. Her body gets hijacked and she slips into a mystical coma for a few months, and look what happens. Everything goes to hell in a hand basket.

She did understand why Angel had made the choice that he did, she just didn't think it was a good one. There was a good possibility that this whole "Angel as CEO" thing was just another scheme to drag out Angelus. No thank you. Cordy may have promised to stick with him till the end, but she sensed a need to obtain minimum safe distance.

If she could get Wesley and the others out of there, so much the better.

~~~~~

Wesley nearly didn't bother answering his phone when it rang. He knew that Spike would be too busy to call, and Gunn never phoned, which meant it could only be Angel. Wesley was having too good a time to want to speak to his boss.

The evening out with Fred had begun rather awkwardly. Neither one of them seemed to know how to talk with each other anymore. Wesley could barely recall a time when the words had been easy between them. Perhaps before the incident with Billy—certainly before she and Gunn had begun dating.

It had been a long time, though, and there had been little practice since then. There had, in fact, been a long period of estrangement when—

The thought slipped away from him yet again. There was something that was eating at him, some link between then and now that continued to evade him. Wesley could only remember that there had been a time when they hadn't spoken, when he had been alone. The emotional memory was there, even if the facts were elusive.

Still, once they had both had a drink and a little time—and Fred had managed to pack away a huge dinner—the words began to come. They talked about Spike and about what might have made him solid again. They spoke of Wolfram and Hart and their continual sense of being overwhelmed.

They talked about leaving, and what might come next.

Wesley found out, much to his relief, that Fred had not been asked to sign a contract either. When he had asked, she had laughed a little. "I wouldn't have signed anything that they gave me. It would have been too much like Faust, you know?"

Wesley had nodded and laughed, comparing the Senior Partners with Mephistopheles. "It was something of a bargain, though," he pointed out. "I'm still not certain why Angel took the position."

Fred shook her head. "I don't know, Wes. Everything the rest of us got out of the deal is pretty obvious, but I have no idea what Angel received." She hesitated. "You don't think it has something to do with his soul, do you?"

Wesley shook his head. "No, I don't. I almost would have said it had more to do with Cordelia, but that seems unlikely since she is still in her coma."

Their conversation might have continued but for the phone ringing. And, while Wesley was hesitant to answer, the thought of a real emergency where Angel needed him activated his sense of duty.

Angel's voice was terse, almost angry. He wasn't asking, he was ordering. Wesley needed to return to Wolfram and Hart at once. Cordelia was awake and asking to see him.

The vampire had hung up the phone before Wesley even had a chance to reply, and he found himself staring at his cell for a moment before putting it away. "What's wrong?" Fred asked, sounding concerned.

"Cordy's awake," Wesley replied, a grin starting to break out over his features. In spite of Angel's rather abrupt way of informing him, this was good news indeed. "Angel said she was asking for me."

Fred's face lit up in turn. "She's awake?" Something hit her. "Wasn't Angel happy?"

"I don't know," Wesley admitted. "His manner was rather abrupt. I'm not certain what was going through his mind."

"Maybe he was just excited," Fred suggested, although she wasn't sure she bought that explanation for a second. Angel had changed since taking charge of the law firm. He was harder to work for these days, less approachable. Fred couldn't help but remember his sweetness after he had rescued her from Pylea. The way he had tried to draw her out and make her a part of things.

She missed that these days.

"Perhaps," Wesley said, but her doubt was echoed in his voice. "Would you like to go with me?"

"Of course," Fred quickly agreed. "You couldn't stop me if you tried."

Wesley wouldn't have tried.

~~~~~

"Why don't you take a shower?" Buffy suggested as they entered her hotel room. "I'll throw your stuff in the washing machine."

"You don't have to do that, pet," Spike protested, although he had no idea how else he was going to get his clothing clean.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Come on, Spike. How else is it going to get clean?"

He sighed. "I'll pass it through the door."

Buffy was about to argue but changed her mind at the last second. "That's fine." She grabbed his stuff and hers once he dropped his jeans and t-shirt outside the door. Buffy had changed into her pajamas, deciding that she wanted to get comfortable for this talk they needed to have. The Slayer had a feeling that Spike was uncomfortable about something, although she had no idea what.

Honestly, Buffy wasn't sure what she had expected upon seeing Spike again. Well, she knew what she'd wanted, which definitely included getting horizontal—or possibly vertical. It didn't really matter to her. Point was, she wanted him.

Spike had seemed amenable to being wanted, but there was still a distance between the two of them. Buffy thought it might have everything to do with why he'd been back for months without letting her know. She just wasn't sure if it was something she could fix, or if she should wait for him to come around on his own.

It was hard to tell with Spike.

She was watching some '80's flick on one of the movie channels when he emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. For the first time, Buffy realized that the soul had made him body-shy. The vampire had certainly not been modest before the soul, and there hadn't been an opportunity to see each other sans clothing after the fact.

"That's a good look for you," she teased. "You should wash your clothes more often."

He scowled at her. "They goin' to take much longer?"

"At least an hour," Buffy replied easily. "You know how this works, Spike. I know you've done laundry in the past."

Spike shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "Look, Buffy, I don't—"

"Why don't you get under the covers, if that'll make you feel better." Buffy shifted off the bed, giving him the opportunity to slip under the sheets. "Then we can talk."

There was only one bed in the room, a fact that didn't make Spike feel much better. He just wasn't sure he was ready for this. He and Buffy had never talked out what had happened between them, or why he had gotten the soul. The few times he had brought it up, she had hurried to dismiss it. They had danced around the issue, but the words had never been spoken.

After what he'd just gone through with Dana, Spike wasn't too sure what Buffy might be thinking of him, what she might see in him.

Even if she had flown halfway around the world just to be with him.

"What did you want to talk about?" he finally asked, looking anywhere but at her.

Buffy shrugged. "I don't know, but you seem kind of jumpy. I thought you might have something to say."

He shook his head. "No, 'm fine."

"That's good to hear." Buffy waited for him to respond, and when she was met with yet more silence, she reached out to grasp his wrist. "How are your hands?"

"They're fine." Spike had no idea of what to say, for possibly the first time in his life—or unlife.

Buffy looked him straight in the eye. "Do you have a problem sharing a bed with me?"

When the bloody hell had the Slayer gotten this direct, Spike wondered. "No." Her blunt question startled the truth out of him.

"Okay, then why are you so uncomfortable?"

"I don't know what this is," he confessed quietly. "'s happened so bloody fast, I don't know what to think, luv. We—you an' I—at the end, we were good, yeah?"

"Yeah, we were good, Spike," Buffy replied.

His blue eyes were open and vulnerable. Buffy could see his soul as clearly as she had in the cavern under the Hellmouth. "We never did talk about what happened—between us."

Buffy swallowed hard. "No, I guess we didn't. There never seemed to be any time, and what time we did have—I didn't want to go there."

"You have to know how sorry I am 'bout that. It still—I just—" Spike couldn't find the words. How did you explain emotions that had propelled you around the globe to find the one thing you shouldn't want? How did you tell the woman you loved that you were afraid to touch her, because you were certain that all she would see was the face of her attacker? Her enemy?

"I never did say the words, did I?" Buffy asked softly. "I forgave you for that a long time ago, Spike." She took a deep breath. "Was that why you didn't let me know you were back?"

He looked away. "I didn't know where we would go, Buffy. Didn't even know that you wanted me like that. I knew you cared, but I wanted to be the long-haul guy, an' I didn't think that's how you thought about me."

"You want to know what I think about you, William?" The name was laden with emotion. Buffy rarely used his given name, and when she did, it was usually something he didn't want to hear. "You're a Champion. A hero. The guy who doesn't give up, even when it would be the smart thing to do. The one who rushes in to save the day, even when he probably ought to be running the other direction. Even if I had never seen you again, you would have always been right here." Buffy put her hand over her heart. "I don't see a monster, I see a man."

Spike stared at her, his mouth hanging open slightly. No one had ever given him that kind of speech before. He was usually the one to deal in words. "You—" He started over. "You don't mind stayin' with me? At least until I figure out what it is I got brought back for?"

Buffy shook her head. "I don't mind a bit. Rome was getting old anyway, and Andrew won't mind staying with Dawn for a while. She'll probably come visit over her next break."

He swallowed. "Then you want—" She was offering him everything he had ever wanted on a platter. Spike couldn't believe it.

"You." Buffy grinned at him. "Actually, I really want you. Can we talk less and do more now?"

Spike had no problem obliging her. Several times, in fact.