Chapter 7
Darien's body was tense, almost as if she were sniffing the air. "Somebody's coming," she whispered. "I can feel them."
"Shit," Jay muttered, peering into the cloudy orb resting on his palm. "Slayers. Two of 'em."
Darien snuck a quick glance at the cage in the corner of the dark room. "Should we cloak him?" she asked.
Jay shook his head. "There isn't time. Wait --" He brought his hand closer to his face. "They're not attacking, they're just snooping."
Darien rolled her eyes. "Hence my question still remains: should we cloak him?!"
"No!" Jay said sternly. "Besides, it kinda pissed him off last time, didn't it?"
Darien looked at the cage again. The creature inside was pacing back and forth, but didn't seem angry, merely bored. She stood up and warily approached the bars.
"You hungry?" she asked.
The creature gave a short growl.
"We can't let you out tonight," she said. "There's people --"
"Slayers," said the creature with a rumbling, eerie laugh. "Delicious."
Darien took a step backward. "W - we can't do that," she said. "You have your orders. You only feed on --"
The creature's face was suddenly terrifyingly close to hers, fists wrapped around the bars of the cage. "Restores," he said. "Their blood restores."
"I'll see," Darien said nervously. She returned to Jay, sitting down next to him again. "Did you hear?"
"That shouldn't be a problem."
"Jay! That's... that's wrong! We're not trying to --"
"Darien, please." Jay's eyes were cold, emotionless. "When we summoned him, did you really think we were never going to do anything evil?"
***
Willow and Xander passed the binoculars back and forth in his car, acting as getaway and lookout for Kennedy and Faith, who were circling the warehouse.
"So why isn't Buffy here?" Xander asked. "This is bizarro world to me. Patrol, recon, all without the leading lady. Not to mention still not getting over the fact that I, Xander Harris, am now a resident of Cleveland." He shuddered.
"Don't forget your glass eye," Willow said with a small frown. "And your unemployment."
"Are you trying to depress me?" he asked. Why don't you just bring Anya up and be done with it, he thought. I don't really need my heart. That's fine. I'm actually getting used to the gaping hole in my chest where love and happy used to live.
"No, I'm just..." Willow sighed, handing him back the binoculars. "I guess I'm kinda getting a little black cloud feeling lately myself," she explained.
"Not a black and veiny sort of a cloud, though, right?"
"Nope, just the blahs and sadness," she assured him.
"Whew. That's much better."
Willow looked at him pointedly.
"Well, no, I didn't mean it was better, just... okay, people need to not let me talk."
Willow patted him on the shoulder. "I think everybody's a little more down than they bargained for. The excitement wore off, and now it's like... woah! Real life is all different now! We didn't just save the world, we totally changed our own daily stuff." She looked out the window, idly trying to spot Kennedy and Faith. "I miss school. And the Bronze. And, Xander... I do miss --"
He held up his hand. "You don't have to say it. In fact, really, don't. I know you do, it's cool."
She smiled sadly. "You know, I'm starting to think that... Nah, never mind."
"Penalty flag on that, Will. You remember the official conversational rules instigated in the Scooby Caucus of 1999? Rule number three: thou shalt not start a sentence and then say the dreaded 'never mind.'"
"Okay, but you're not gonna like it," she warned him.
"Me strong like bull," Xander said with a grunt. "Mere words not wound me." He thumped his chest, then let out a weak "ow."
Willow started to speak, when suddenly hands were pounding on the windshield and the driver's side window of the car, banging with desperate, angry insistence.
***
Imagine waking up from a nightmare so real it was tangible and seemed to
go on forever...
There wasn't fire and brimstone, but there also wasn't the feeling of completeness and love and peace that had been described to him as what heaven was like...
Mostly, it was terrifying in its absence of stimuli, the sense that one's very essence itself was destroyed; that the soul was, in fact, a light switch that got shut off at the time of death, leaving only empty blackness.
But then again, it wasn't precisely like that either. Time was the only thing still palpable, and he existed in this nether-realm for millennia. Endless, numbing eons that stretched through many lifetimes over...
That's how long he had been dead.
And yet when the moment came that he peeled his eyelids open and sat up, he was still in the crater that had once been the entire town. Later, when he'd had time to figure it all out, he ascertained that he'd awoken what was likely no more than an hour after he'd been reduced to a pile of ashes.
That was the first thing he saw: crumbled dust that held no meaning for him at first, until he looked carefully, ran a hand through it, felt the familiar texture of what was left in the wake of a slain vampire.
Not slain, though. Casualty of war.
He stood up, stumbling almost immediately. Legs didn't work right, and he was cold, naked, weary.
It took a long time to start to crawl through the debris, rock, and then...
Blazing, blinding sunlight struck him full on.
He looked into the sky, the big yellow star shining on him, warming him, not burning...
He pressed his hand to his chest, and felt his heart beating rapidly; his lungs expanded and filled with air of their own volition.
He fell to the ground, and he wept.
Spike wasn't giving up this life easily. This was a gift, this new humanity, and when he awoke from dreaming those first few precious moments of life, he made a decision: find Buffy. Find her now, by whatever means necessary. Ask her for help in figuring out who'd hired Riley to off him. Everything else could wait. He didn't have the luxury of giving her space and time.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and didn't once glance at Fred's number, just picked up the phone and dialed Buffy's cell.
Out of service area.
Of course they hadn't stayed camped out by the remains of Sunnydale. He knew that, just as he knew nobody was at fault for not sticking around and waiting for him to miraculously come back to life.
He was dead. Buffy, Willow, Faith, the lot of them... they'd split. It was logical.
Suddenly a piercing dread came over him. What if --
No, no, everybody else made it, he was certain of that.
It finally hit him who he needed to reach. The prospect was sickening, but there really was no other way.
He tore a page from the phone book and headed out.
***
Xander jumped back from the window.
Oh, thank God, he thought with relief.
He unlocked the back door, and Faith and Kennedy tumbled into the car.
"You guys gave us a heart attack!" Willow said. "Did you find out anything?"
"Yes and no," Kennedy replied. "There's people in there, but we couldn't see them very well."
"But it wasn't some big group," Faith added. "Unless they're all off at dollar draft night or somethin', place seems like it's only got a couple of folks in it."
"We saw maybe two, three shadows..."
"It was dark."
"Hmm," Willow mused. "I should call Giles." She glanced at her watch. "It'll be the middle of the night there now, I'll have to wait 'til morning."
Xander turned around to face the backseat. "Is it really dollar draft night?" he asked Faith.
***
Buffy flung her bag down on the sofa and meandered into the kitchen. The fridge was nearly empty, but there were still a few beers left over from Giles's going away party. Cheap stuff, but she wasn't feeling particularly picky.
She took one out, tossing the cap into the sink, and walked out to the back porch.
"Everyone... " She paused, trying to choose her words carefully. "They all care. They all care so much, it... makes it all harder."
Spike mounted the steps up to the porch. "I'm not sure I followed you around that bend, luv."
"I don't know," she sighed. "I just, I feel like I'm spending all of my time trying to be okay, so they don't worry. It's exhausting. And then, I..." She trailed off, clenching her hand into a fist.
"And that makes 'em worry even more."
Buffy looked at him. He strode up the last step and stood beside her.
He wasn't there. The person she could talk to when she felt alone and maligned -- like now... and he wasn't there to talk to. The irony. Buffy wanted to confide in Spike about mourning him. If it weren't so tragic, she thought, this might actually be funny, in a "wow, that sucks, doesn't it?" sort of way.
She took a sip of the beer and sat down on the top step. The yard here was smaller than at her old house, the neighborhood a little more noisy, but it was nice enough. It would do for now.
"Buffy?" The voice was low, barely audible.
Her eyes widened, and she stood up without turning around. Her heartbeat quickened.
A footstep behind her. "Are you all right?"
She closed her eyes. "Yes. I'm fine."
She knew it was Xander, she knew, and yet... she didn't want to turn around. She wanted to pretend...
"How'd the interview go?"
"I didn't get it."
"Aw, I'm sorry, Buff." He put a hand on her shoulder.
No, not "Buff," she thought. Don't call me that. Call me --
"Sorry to hear that, Slayer." The voice deeper, thickly accented... smelling his cologne, cigarettes, leather...
"It's okay," she said. "I'll go back out there tomorrow."
"You're not a schoolgirl. You're not a shopgirl..."
"Damn straight. You'll get something." He lifted his hand. "I'm gonna turn in. See you in the morning."
The door shut.
No.
"You're a creature of the darkness. Like me." His hand slid down from her shoulder to her arm, and she felt him press up against her back, nuzzling her neck.
"I miss you," she said aloud. "Why aren't you here? Now, when I need you?"
"Gotta move, lamb..."
"No!" She threw her beer across the lawn, hitting the side of the garage. It shattered, spilling its contents.
The door slammed open. "What was that?! Are you okay?!"
And now she was glad it was Xander, the epitome of the Nice Safe Guy... glad for his strong arms enveloping her in a hug, and she melted sobbing against his chest. She choked out incomprehensible words of sorrow and anger and frustration, not caring how revelatory she got, just needing to finally admit it, admit it all...
"I loved him, he's gone, why is he gone? I --"
Xander stroked her hair, held onto her tightly. "It's okay, it's gonna be okay," he said, but his own voice caught in his throat as he thought of Anya, and...
Wait a minute.
"Did you say... ?"
Buffy turned her face up to his. "I'm sorry, Xander, I know it's wrong, but... he really did change, and..."
Xander nodded. "He did a good thing," he said quietly.
"Please don't hate me for feeling like this."
"I don't hate you, Buffy," he replied. "I could never hate you, no matter what. I'm sorry. I'm sorry because Spike finally did something to make himself worthy of you loving him, and he's... well, he's not around for me to give him the speech." Xander gave her a brief smile.
"The... speech?"
He cleared his throat and released her, walked to the side of the porch and rested against the railing. "Yeah, the speech. I had it all planned, too. See, you thought I didn't notice you guys getting closer, that I was still all not-trusty and everything, and I... well, yeah, it still bugged me, but... soul. You know? And not, um..." He paused. "What I mean is, he went out and got it. Voluntarily. And that means something."
Buffy tried to smile, wiping the tears from her face.
"So, yeah. I was gonna give him the speech... probably after the big let's-kick-evil's-ass showdown... I was gonna tell him... that it was cool."
She looked surprised. "Really?"
"Mostly cool," Xander amended. "But that if he ever so much as thought about hurting you again, I'd st -- I'd..." Suddenly, despite himself, Xander started to break down, and now it was Buffy rushing to provide comfort.
"I hated that guy, Buff," he said. "But goddamnit if I don't miss him a little bit, too."
Chapter 8
She almost collided with him on the sidewalk outside the hotel. "Well, well, well," he said. "Fancy meetin' you here."
Fred tried to contain her pleasure at seeing him again. "Gosh, it feels like I just saw you!" she said merrily.
Spike chuckled. "You did, pet. Must be fate, running into you so soon." He reached for the door handle, pulling it open, then stopped just short of walking through the entrance.
She was now looking at him with narrowed eyes.
"You already have a place to stay," she observed.
"That I do," he replied warily. "Got some business here."
"I live here."
His mouth opened slightly. "Well, that's somethin' I didn't count on," he said after a moment. "You, er... you don't..."
Fred swallowed nervously. "I work for Angel."
Spike shut his eyes and looked pained. "Oh, balls," he muttered.
"I take it you know him."
Spike gave a short, bitter laugh. "Yeah. We go way back."
***
Willow hung up the phone and sighed. Great, it was back to the drawing board. Didn't the coven know that they were relied on for their insight pretty much exclusively, ever since the Council went poof? Well, not so much poof as boom, technically. She looked over her notes and started crossing out whole sections.
"That doesn't look good," Kennedy said.
Willow turned around. "I just got off with Giles."
"Should I be jealous?"
Willow blushed. "The phone, got off the phone!"
Kennedy grinned. "I just love it when you get all nervous."
"Not nervous, more like... ew. Ew, bad thoughts, bad thoughts."
Kennedy laughed. She hopped up onto the kitchen counter, swinging her feet. "Okay, well, what'd he have to say that's making you mark out all your research?"
"The cult was wiped out," she said. "They're all dead."
"So no more proby demon guy?"
"Well, maybe. Maybe not," Willow replied. "I'm more worried about how the cult got killed."
"How?"
"Massive throat trauma."
The two girls didn't hear Xander come into the kitchen.
"Vampires," Kennedy said, sounding slightly relieved. "Oh, well, heck, easiest things in the world to kill."
"Don't let Buffy hear you say that," Xander said quietly.
***
Fred showed him into the lobby. "I think he's probably at his office," she said. "I can try to call him."
Spike pulled the ad he'd torn from the yellow pages out of his pocket. "Mean he doesn't work out of here anymore, then?"
"Uh, no. Since kinda recently, we all... well, I guess there's sort of no more Angel Investigations."
"He's stopped the do-gooder gig?"
Fred shook her head. "No, no, he... um, it's complicated."
Spike sat down. "Things always are."
"Is this anything I could help you with?" Fred asked.
"Don't know," Spike answered. "You know where a man could find a Slayer?"
"Oh! Faith?"
Spike was taken aback. "No, not that one, though I s'pose where she's to be found, so's the other one. Or ones, rather. There's actually quite a few of 'em now."
"The other... oh."
"Buffy."
"I - I don't know her," Fred said, taking a seat next to Spike on the sofa. "Angel went to see her about a month ago, though."
"Need to find 'er," Spike said quietly.
Fred peered at him. "Are you..."
And then it dawned on her.
"How did it go?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Angel said angrily.
"But did you help them?" Fred pressed.
"Yeah, I helped them all right. Helped Buffy and her..." He shuddered.
"Her what?" Gunn asked.
"Well, you all might as well know, I'm not the only vampire with a soul anymore," he said.
Wes's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"Doesn't matter. But I guess Buffy's dating him now."
"Hey, hey, now," Lorne said, putting an arm around Angel's shoulders amiably. "Chin up, sweet cheeks. It's probably just a fling. When you finally fulfill your destiny and get off that blood diet, she'll come running right back to your happy human self!"
Wes was studying Angel's face very carefully.
"Y - you're the guy!"
Spike raised an eyebrow. "The guy?"
She frowned. "No, wait, you can't be. You're walking around in the daylight and everything. You're not a vampire."
"No, not so much," he replied. "Not anymore."
Fred's jaw dropped. "Oh, my God," she murmured. "The... the research this morning..." She looked up at him. "Spike... I think Angel might not be exactly pleased to see you."
***
It was the first and the last time they were together like that, with true tenderness and affection.
She smiled down at him. "Here?"
"Nice night for it, i'n'it?"
She leaned down and kissed him, slowly easing his lips apart, and when his tongue slid across hers, she felt a heady completeness.
Rolling to her side, she brought his body closer against hers, hand moving between them to work the buttons of her blouse.
He broke the kiss and grinned at her. "That's my job," he said.
With a slowness that was patently frustrating, he undid each button, easing the fabric from her skin, and proceeded to open the clasp on the front of her bra.
Spike regarded her breasts with a smile of boyish awe. "Missed those," he murmured. He rolled her onto her back, his head lowering, tongue flicking across nipple.
She buried her fingers in his hair and sighed in contentment.
They moved together, fit together, easily and gently, taking their time, shedding clothes, hands roaming, soft words and sounds of appreciation passing between them. When Buffy found herself atop him, she didn't tease, she didn't taunt... this wasn't fucking him senseless 'til they were both numb, this was something different.
And she didn't stay vertical after she'd guided him inside her. She allowed herself to fall back down against his chest, her eyes open as she kissed him, not wanting to miss a moment of his expressions, his pleasure.
His arms wrapped around her hips.
It seemed they were almost still, just the slightest hint of motion, languid... speeding up only as the passion mounted, and even then it was careful, tender...
"God, I love you," he moaned as she collapsed beside him.
Her voice caught in her throat, and he smoothed her hair away from her forehead.
"I --"
"Shh, 's all right, luv," he whispered. "I know what this was, just a little somethin' for the end of the world. Know you don't love me, but I appreciate this nonetheless."
Yet there was something in the way he spoke, the way he looked at her...
She wanted to say it. And at the same time, she knew that until she said it when they were both safe and alive and had triumphantly won the next day's battle, he wasn't going to let her say it. Not 'til then.
So she stayed quiet, and instead took his hand and placed it above her left breast, willing him to understand just how full her heart was with him.
His eyes stayed locked on hers. "Thanks," he said, so quietly she wasn't sure he'd really said it.
Because of that, it was okay, she decided. Because... he did know, didn't he? He had to. Buffy dressed quickly, running a brush through her hair, and walking to the kitchen. No tears today, she told herself. There's things to be done, and it doesn't help to dwell on the what-ifs.
"Don't let Buffy hear you say that."
It was Xander's voice. What was this about?
"Don't let me hear you say what?"
"Uh... that we're out of milk," Willow said lamely.
Buffy looked from Xander to Willow to Kennedy. "Okayyy," she said. "Yeah. That's tragedy right there. Thank you for trying to spare me from the horrors of dry cereal."
No one was meeting her gaze.
"What is it really?" she asked tensely. "You guys look severely guilty here, and I'm not getting mega warm fuzzies."
"Willow, we should tell her," Kennedy said. "I never wanted to keep her out of this, that was all Faith."
"Oh, you mean the big demon guy being worshipped by a cult?" Buffy asked innocently. "Yeah, how's that going?"
"Buffy!" Willow gasped. "How did you know?"
"Let's just say a little bird told me."
From behind her in the doorway, Dawn approached.
"Dawnie," Willow said with an edge in her voice.
"Um... tweet tweet?" Dawn said nervously.
Chapter 9
When Spike finished speaking, Fred appeared both awestruck and more than a little disappointed.
"Y - you must've loved her very much," she said.
Spike looked down. "Still do."
"So I... the... things you said to me..."
"Don't think for a minute I didn't mean 'em," he assured her immediately. "I'm all manner of confused right now, but I know an appealing woman when I see one." He smiled. "Almost got me off track, you did. Should make you feel right proud of yourself."
She returned his smile shyly, then stood up, pacing. "Something's not right here," she mused. "Angel's been acting really weird ever since he came back from Sunnydale, and then with the stuff he had Wesley looking up..."
"Think he sussed it out?" Spike asked. "Git must be fit to be tied, knowin' I swiped his bloody destiny out from under him... might even --" He stopped. "Bloody hell, it was him."
"Him what?"
Spike stood up abruptly and flung a throw pillow from the couch across the room. "It was him! He's the one who hired sodding Captain Cardboard to come blow my head off!"
Fred's heart plunged into her stomach. "I feel sick. Oh, God, why did we go work there?"
"Place is all evil-like, is it? You think it's got to him?" Spike rolled his eyes. "Trust me, luv, Angel's always been one short step away from a rampage, soul or not. Not nearly the big fluffy puppy everybody thinks he is. Bloke's twisted up so hard inside, I'm surprised he's still in one piece."
Fred shook her head. "No, he's good. He's --"
"A champion," Spike said with disgust. "Not hardly. That position's been filled."
***
This was more like it, Xander thought. Buffy, Dawn, Willow, and me, all around the table with the laptop and the books. Just like old times.
Well, there was Kennedy and Faith now. And Giles was back in England. But still, at least Andrew had gotten a little courage and turned himself in, hoping to earn redemption through jail time, so he wasn't here to be useless and annoying.
Ugh, jail. He almost felt sorry for the guy.
Almost.
And Wood. Nice enough, but couldn't hack it when things got too hairy. He'd never really trusted him, not after that weird vendetta phase. Plus, skulky and too quiet and the way he left Faith like that was kind of rude. Sure, she was tough, she could take it, but Xander could almost sense the principal had gotten to her, just a little.
But there was research to be done, and Xander had a job to do.
"That was six jellies, two eclairs, and three plain, right?"
"Don't forget my chocolate sprinkled one," Buffy said.
Yeah, this was just like old times.
Xander went out to his car, trying to ignore the stupid British accent floating in his imagination.
"If you're going to the grocer, we're out of Weetabix. And I could do with a decent cuppa. You people and your bloody Lipton."
He smiled to himself as he started the engine. Shut up, Spike.
***
"I almost forgot!" Fred said excitedly. She flew to the sofa, snatching up her purse and rifling through it. "Ah ha!" She began furiously scrolling through the numbers stored in her cell phone.
"Got somethin'?"
"Willow!"
Spike sighed. "Already tried to ring Buffy. Doubt you'll have better luck with Red."
"Wanna bet?" Fred grinned. "Never underestimate the power of a tech geek to keep her cell working."
***
Willow frowned. "Who could that be?" she asked as her phone rang. "Everybody who has this number is here."
Buffy couldn't tell who was on the other end, but grew concerned when Willow took the phone into the living room. She looked at Kennedy. "What's up with that?"
"Beats me," Kennedy replied.
When Willow returned, her face was drained of blood, and she sat down heavily.
"Will?" Buffy asked. "What is it? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"Actually, I talked to one."
***
Spike smiled as he hung up. Birds had flown off to protect another Hellmouth. Good on them. Just be gentle when you tell Buffy, he thought. Don't want her having a coronary.
"So?"
"Will's steeling herself up to talk to 'er," Spike said. "Might have to make a trip east."
Fred's face fell. "Oh. So, you're not staying?"
He shrugged. "Not much here for me, is there? Just your rather bitter employer, and all manner of potentially awkward situations therein."
"But if I could just talk to him, maybe figure out why he's trying... Wait."
"What is it?"
"The things Wesley was looking up... I think they've got the idea that you're not... that you're not exactly human."
Spike laughed. "Not human? Please. Got the reflection, the heartbeat, and the sunburn to prove it. Gonna have to give me more to go on, ducks. What theory do your little friends have, eh?"
Fred shook her head. "I don't know."
I was able to take on the bugger, he thought. Seemed a mite odd, but didn't necessarily mean anything. Still, Riley outsized him by a fair amount. And then there was the night the men in the white coats came for him...
No, no, nothing unusual about me now, he assured himself. I'm perfectly normal. Got to be. Anything else would be too much of a burden.
***
The way Willow took her hand and led her down the hall, Buffy wasn't sure if this was good news or bad, but whatever it was, it was deadly serious.
"Who was on the phone, Will?"
"Buffy, you need to sit down."
Buffy obeyed, but was growing impatient. "Who was it?"
"Do you remember when I went to LA to bring back Faith? Well, I stayed in touch with some of the people Angel works with."
"Oh, crap, that reminds me, I should probably call him and let him know --"
"That's just it," Willow interrupted. "Don't call him right now. At least not yet."
"Why not? I'm sure he wants to make sure we're all right." That I'm all right, anyway, she amended to herself. God, I can't believe I forgot to call him...
She grimaced. Oh, man, he'd love this wouldn't he? she thought bitterly. I wouldn't let Angel wear the amulet, and it saved his life. Killed his rival. Yeah, that'll be a fun conversation.
"He already knows, Buffy," Willow explained. "And Fred -- that's the girl that I talked to -- she thinks he's... not really so much on our side right now about..."
"What? Why the hell wouldn't Angel be on our side?"
Willow squared her shoulders. "Okay, this is all gonna sound crazy, but lemme just start at the beginning."
Buffy tried to perk up, ease Willow's obvious jitters. "A very good place to start," she said with a smile.
Willow didn't smile back. "Buffy... it's Spike. He's alive."
Buffy's smile dissolved. She stayed silent for a moment, then glared hard at Willow. "Don't even joke about that."
"It's not a joke. Fred gave him the phone. I talked to him."
The tears were immediately at her eyes, but they didn't fall. Buffy merely looked around the room, unable to focus on anything. In her lap, her hands twisted together anxiously, her breathing suddenly growing hard and ragged.
She tried to speak, but nothing came out except a whimper.
Willow got up and sat beside her, pulling her into a hug. "Just let it out, please, Buffy. You've tried to be so strong, but I know this has to be --"
"Is it real?" she asked.
"I'll tell you everything I know. But yes, it's real. He's alive."
The tears still didn't fall, but Buffy's chest tightened, and something deep within her ached. "Don't... don't explain yet," she said. "Just say it again..."
Willow held Buffy tighter. "He's alive."
Chapter 10
Jay carefully slid the glass through the bars of the cage, drawing back almost immediately as the creature seized upon it, drinking its contents greedily.
"Sorry it wasn't what you asked for, not exactly," Jay said apologetically.
The creature wiped his mouth. "I understand," he replied. "But soon. You've got to."
Jay nodded. "Darien," he sniffed. "She doesn't get it, but I'll bring her around."
"I don't trust her. She's... soft."
Jay noted something in the creature's expression that unnerved him. He wouldn't try to pull her through the bars, snap her neck... would he?
"Like I said, I'll bring her around," Jay assured him.
"You'd better," the creature replied with a sickening, blood-soaked grin. "I'm getting... antsy."
***
"When you finally fulfill your destiny and get off that blood diet, she'll come running right back to your happy human self!"
Angel smiled weakly at Lorne. "It's not that I want that. Not necessarily. I mean..."
He caught Wes's eye.
"She's the same," Wes said.
"I need to see her."
In the medical bay, Cordelia looked small and pale and peaceful. If it weren't for the thousands of dollars worth of machinery keeping her breathing and checking her vitals, Angel would be hard pressed not to think she was merely sleeping off a case of the flu.
He sat beside her, took her hand gently. "You better hang in there," he whispered. "You're all I've got now."
A sharp keening sound split the silence, and nurses ambushed the room. An orderly steered Angel into the hallway.
"What is it? What's --"
"Please, sir, we'll take care of it."
But they didn't. Angel felt a horrible icy chill run through him when a doctor at last emerged to tell him she was gone.
In the course of mere weeks, Angel lost his son, Buffy, and now Cordy. When he thought of the last words they'd exchanged when she was deeply in the thrall of her pregnancy... how he'd almost killed her...
No, he wouldn't remember her like that.
Instead, he'd remember the beautiful, funny, sweet girl she'd been before all that. His friend, his love, his...
Lilah's hand was on his shoulder as he sat staring blankly at the white hospital walls.
"I have something for you," she said.
"Not now."
"Just take it," she urged, handing him a plastic-bound report. "Read it. There's pictures and everything."
He looked up at her. "It's not a good time."
Lilah sighed. "Pardon me if I have little sympathy for your loss," she said, but her voice was gentler than her words. "After all, she killed me, didn't she?" She tapped the cover of the report. "I think you'll find this very interesting."
When she'd gone, Angel reluctantly turned to the first page, and his eyes narrowed.
One more thing taken from him.
For the first time since he'd let Whistler pull him out of the gutters, Angel felt helpless and lost. But maybe...
"This... I can do something about this," he said.
Wes shook his head. "Can't it wait 'til nightfall at least?"
"Why doesn't anyone understand?" Angel asked. "Did I suffer for a century like this to have him sweep in and --"
"Angel," Wes said sternly. "Think. Please, I beg you. We only found out about the prophecy a few years ago. Does the fact that we now know it wasn't meant for you really negate all the good you've done? Do you want to throw this away? There's no guarantee that even if you do kill him that you'll then --"
Angel grimaced and shut his eyes briefly. "I... don't... care," he said, his tone measured and threatening.
Wes took a step backward and held out his hands. "I'm not helping you in this. This is wrong, and you know that. Please!"
Angel stared hard at Wes, tried to think of something to make him see that this was his only option. After everything that had happened, he had to settle this score.
"I said it before. I'll do this with or without anyone's help. Makes it a little harder, but I'll do it. And I'll do it now."
From across the room, Gunn cleared his throat. "I'll help you, boss," he said. "Let's go."
***
Buffy finally let Willow explain everything to her... Spike human and very much alive... Fred helping him... and Angel trying to kill him... it was all surreal and strange, and she felt like pinching herself to see if she'd wake up.
"I - I can't believe Angel would do this," she murmured. "I mean, yeah, it's not like they don't have massive weirdness between them, but geez, I can't imagine..."
"Fred and Spike aren't positive on that part," Willow assured her. "But somebody's after Spike, and Angel's pissed off and acting weird. That much they know."
"We gotta get him out of there," Buffy said. "We... we gotta get him here!"
"You sure you're up for that?"
Buffy stared at her friend in shock. "How can you think I wouldn't want him with us?! After everything..."
Willow smiled softly. "I was right," she said. "You did love him, didn't you? I - I mean, you do. I thought maybe, but I wasn't sure."
Buffy gave a barely perceptible nod. "It'd been coming for a long time," she said quietly. "When he was gone... not everybody could tell, but I wasn't exactly together, not all the time."
"I could tell," Willow replied. "I figured you'd say something if you wanted to. I didn't wanna push."
"Will? Can I call him back?"
Willow nodded and handed her the phone. "Just hit the caller ID thingy for Fred's number and then the send button," she said.
Buffy looked at it, her fingers barely touching the surface of the keypad. "Could I be alone? Please? I'm sorry, I think I need to gear myself up for this."
"Of course." Willow hugged Buffy again and stood up to leave.
"Don't tell the others," Buffy called to her. "Not yet, not 'til I've had a chance to figure out what to do."
Willow grinned somewhat mischievously. "Tell them what?"
"Thanks, Will," Buffy said with an appreciative smile.
***
Gunn pulled the car up and Angel leaped inside, immediately huddling down.
"Nah, man, don't need to do that anymore," Gunn said, pulling his boss up by the collar of his coat. "Windows got that some shit on 'em they outfitted your office with. No Angel flambé in here."
Angel sat up straight, gazing with more than a little awe at the bright sunshine. "Huh. Never get used to this," he remarked. "So, you know the plan?"
"Find and kill," Gunn said simply. "Question is, where do we find?"
"Well, he's here somewhere," Angel replied. "Lilah said the police found Riley's car abandoned downtown."
"Now, why would he come here? Why hang out on your turf?"
A slight cloud seemed to lift from Angel, some of his anger melting away. He sighed. "He doesn't know what he's done," he said reluctantly. "Not exactly. Probably doesn't know where to find Buffy, so he just stopped the first place he came to."
"Too bad Riley couldn't at least get a tracer on him," Gunn said. "You know, after we do this guy, I'm thinkin' maybe we get Riley. Guy's so fucking hopeless."
Angel quirked an eyebrow up and peered at Gunn. There was a strange glint in the other man's eye that he didn't like. "Gunn," he said. "We're not usually in the business of doing things like this. This is... a special case."
Gunn shrugged. "First time for everything. I dunno. I kinda like the new direction things're taking."
Angel gripped the armrest tensely.
"Gotta stop back at home base, though," Gunn said as he swung the car into a tight right turn. "Need some firepower."
***
Fred handed Spike a mug of coffee and settled next to him on the sofa.
"Thanks," he said. "Really, for everything. Would've found myself in quite a pickle without you, pet."
Fred blushed and took a sip from her own mug. "I'll be sorry to see you go," she said. "Do you think you need anything? I don't have much money, but --"
Spike held up a hand to her. "No, I'll wait and see what Red or the Slayer have to say. Sure one of them'll come out or wire me a bit of somethin' for the trip. You've done plenty."
The lobby doors swung open, and Spike and Fred turned to see Gunn enter, a dark shape behind him with a coat flung over its head.
"Oh, brilliant," Spike muttered.
Angel pulled his coat off and stared with disbelief at him. A slow smile spread across his face.
"Maybe this won't be so hard after all," Angel said.
Spike stood up and squared his shoulders. "Don't be too sure, mate."
Chapter 11
The creature growled in his sleep and sat bolt upright, crying out and shaking slightly. He looked around the warehouse, eyes glittering, piercing the shadows with their preternatural sight.
Good... empty, he thought. Don't want those two seeing me like this.
He stood up and looked toward the small grimy windows at the other side of the cavernous space. Weak grey light filtered through mud and dirt.
"Daylight," he muttered scornfully. "Hope you enjoy it, you bastard. Soon enough, no more daylight for you."
A door banged open with an echoing clatter, and the creature scrambled back to his cot, turning his face toward the wall.
"God, he sleeps a lot, doesn't he?" came Darien's voice. There was a rustling sound, as of bags being deposited on the card table in the center of the room.
"Well, it is daytime," Jay replied. "That's kinda his thing."
"You don't have to be patronizing."
Do shut up, he thought. I just had to be stuck with these idiots, didn't I?
Of course, they had summoned him, fed him, helped him over the initial shock and weakness, and even let him feast on the former occupants of this dank place. It wouldn't do to be ungrateful. Soon enough, he'd be strong enough to break free, and then...
Oh, my, yes, such beautiful bloodshed to be had.
***
"Hi, this is Fred Burkle. I can't take your call, so please leave a message. Thanks!"
Buffy tried to speak, but couldn't, and disconnected the call instead. It wouldn't seem real until she got to talk to him directly.
She curled up and hugged her pillow close, stroking its clean white surface as though it were his cheek.
Are you really out there? she wondered. Is this really happening?
She shut her eyes, and his face appeared before her.
"'Course it is," he said with a grin. "Didn't think you could get rid of me that easy, did you?"
She flew to him, planting kisses all over his face, clutching at his shoulders. "Never, never, never do that again!" she pleaded.
"Turnabout's fair play," he murmured against her neck. "You died on me once, left me to mourn. Figured you were owed a taste of your own medicine."
She pulled away slightly and saw a spark of mirth in his eyes, but if this was his game...
She hardened her features. "Jerk."
"Selfish little bitch." He cupped her cheek in his hand.
"Drama queen. You just had to play the martyr." She turned her face and kissed his palm.
He reached his arm around her waist and pulled her to him roughly. "You intend to make me sorry I saved your pretty ass?"
She whimpered as he ground himself against her slightly. "No," she whispered.
He kissed her neck. "So what do you say, then, you crazy, beautiful bint?"
"Thank you..."
He shook his head. "Not that. Though you're welcome."
"I love you..."
He beamed. "That's my girl."
God, let it be real, Buffy thought desperately. She reached for the phone and dialed Fred's number again. This time she didn't choke up when she left her message.
"This is Buffy... you talked to my friend Willow earlier. I need to talk to Spike as soon as possible, please. I - well, just tell him... tell him I've missed him."
***
When Spike awoke, he was in the dark. His arms, bound with handcuffs, hugged a metal post, and his head ached. He looked around, but couldn't quite see through the gloom, even squinting hard.
Don't tell me I need specs again...
Footsteps approached, and Spike raised his head just as Angel threw a glass of cold water in his face.
He sputtered. "What was that for? I was already conscious!"
"I could see that."
Spike craned his neck, trying feebly to dry his face on the sleeve of his shirt. "Lay it all out, peaches," he said. "Know we're not exactly on the best of terms anymore, but what've you got against me now? You've got a soul, I'm human. Way I figure it, we're both on the same side."
"That's the thing," Angel replied. "You're human. So, no, you're not on my side."
"Get to the bloody point. I don't have time to listen to you talk in your stupid brooding riddles. What was with the poncy hit man, and what do you have against me?"
Angel crouched down and met Spike at eye level. "Everything."
***
The opening six notes of the theme song from Doogie Howser, M.D. played in tinny, electronic beeps, and Willow rushed to her laptop. "That must be the file Giles was emailing me," she explained with a hint of a blush. "I - yeah, I really should change my notification sound, huh?"
Kennedy smiled and patted Willow's hand as she opened the file.
"Uh oh."
Xander cringed. "Nothing good ever follows an 'uh oh.' Is this a 'crap, the world's ending now' kind of 'uh oh,' or just a 'crap, Giles accidentally sent me a virus' kind of 'uh oh'?"
"Closer to the first one, but not... well, I don't think it'll be as bad as that."
Kennedy peered at the screen. "What's an Empath demon?"
"Well, the good news is it's not something that generally likes to try to end the world, but the bad news is, it's still not something fun," Willow replied. "Oh, but in more good news, it ate the Notack demon!"
"Uh, I'm thinking a demon that eats other demons is not totally in the good news column," Dawn said. "Unless that's all it eats. Like a vegetarian, only... well, no. It's nothing like a vegetarian." She wilted into a chair and sighed. "Okay, so I have a ways to go 'til I'm even remotely junior Watcher-esque."
"Then what was up with the coven and all its stuff about the Notack dude?" Faith asked. "What, have we been on a friggin' wild goose chase this whole time?"
"No," Willow answered. "The Empath cloaks itself in its victims, so that's why the coven thought it was the Notack at first."
"Whew, so no probes," Kennedy laughed.
"No probes, right, but its ability to transform itself into pretty much any demon it consumes makes it kinda hard to pin down."
"Oh, great, another shapeshifter!" Xander said.
"At least this one's corporeal," Willow said. "Plus, it doesn't shapeshift at will, it has to either eat or be infused with the life force of another demon through magic." She paused, reading more of the file. "The cult! That's how it destroyed the cult! It must've fed on their Notack guy, and then killed them!"
"You said they were probably vampire victims, though," Kennedy pointed out.
"Hmm. Well, then, I'm stumped. It must've assumed another form before killing them. Possibly something else the cult conjured."
"Can it take on vampire form?" Faith asked. "'Cause if it can, we just dust him, right?"
"Vampires are demons," Willow replied, "and if he's in the form of one, I don't see why not."
***
Spike threw his head back and laughed. "You sad, pathetic bastard. Can't ever catch a break, can you?"
Angel drew back a fist and punched Spike soundly in the stomach. "I've got you chained up here," he said. "I'd say my luck's changing."
Spike glared up at Angel. "Already done the torture-in-the-basement bit," he growled. "Don't plan on doin' it again. 'Specially not with you." He swung his legs up and kicked Angel across the room, breaking the chain fastening the handcuffs together. Without looking back at the crumpled form of his grandsire, he bounded up the stairs, shoving past Gunn, and ran outside.
It took Spike a moment to realize Fred was at his heels shouting his name. He spun around, sending a piercing spot of pain through his left side beneath his ribcage, and he fell to his knees on the sidewalk.
Chapter 12
Buffy emerged from her room after an hour's fitful napping. The rest of the household out to scope out the warehouse again, Willow filled her in on the new information about the demon. Dark circles under her eyes, her hair disheveled, Willow didn't like the empty, faraway expression Buffy wore.
"Have you heard anything I've said?" Willow asked her.
"Yeah. More of the mighty morphin' power evil kinda thing," Buffy replied.
Willow sighed. "He didn't call back, did he?"
"Not yet."
"I'm sure he will, just give him time. He sounded just like his old self. Well... I mean, not his old old self, not with the 'Drusilla and I are just in from Europe and wanna chop your head off' kind of old self. But --"
"Like happy souled Spike?"
Willow nodded. "With a side of witty banter, even."
"What if something's wrong now, though? What if --"
"Stop," Willow urged. "You're just gonna make yourself crazy."
Buffy buried her face in her hands and slumped forward. "I just don't know what to do here, Will. I feel like calling Angel, getting his side of all this, going out there... doing something!"
Willow smiled weakly and patted Buffy's shoulder. "You know, in a totally weird and not at all funny sorta way, it's like you're home on a Friday night waiting for your boyfriend to call and ask you to the big dance."
Buffy's head snapped around, and she peered at Willow. "It is a Friday night. And it's not exactly like he's not calling because he's trying to play it cool or he's out with another girl. He's not calling because... because he's probably..."
"Getting you a corsage?"
"Will?"
"Yeah?"
Buffy gritted her teeth. "Amusing 1950s high school analogy? Slightly inappropriate right now."
"Just trying to keep you from gettin' wiggy with it," Willow said meekly.
"We're way past wiggy and into full-on panic mode. Complete with the pushing of big buttons and everything. Buffy is on orange alert." She paused and stood up. "No... not even orange. We're like above orange and creeping toward red." Buffy nodded decisively. "We're on... we're on whatever color is redder than orange but... not really red yet... like --"
"Tangerine?"
***
Fred rushed to Spike, and helped him to his feet. "Are you okay?"
"Bloody muscle cramp. God, it's things like this that make me miss bein' a vampire." He winced, and Fred slung his arm over her neck.
"Come on, we have to go. Charles isn't far behind."
He allowed himself to be half-dragged to her car, and once inside, Spike collapsed against the seat, his breath coming out in short, pathetic gasps.
"Bugger, s'pose I'll have to quit fags entirely now," he mumbled.
Fred looked at him oddly.
"Cigarettes," he explained with a short laugh that sent him coughing.
She patted him on the back and turned her eyes back to the road. "Where to?"
"That depends," Spike replied. "You want to suss out what's got your boss so goddamn vexed, or you want to just get the hell away?"
"I, uh... I don't know..."
Spike looked out the window at the scenery rolling rapidly by. "How 'bout if you do the former and I'll do the latter..." he said softly.
"I would," Fred began, "but what if my helping you makes them a little... annoyed with me?"
Spike gazed at her a moment, her eyes wide and scared. This wasn't how he'd imagined things going, but to leave her here...
"All right," he said finally. "Come with if you'd like. But I get the window seat. Where's your cell? Folks need to know we're comin'."
Fred tossed Spike her purse, and he rifled through it without luck. "Oh, this isn't good."
***
"You know, for a very small person, you're surprisingly heavy," Xander said, grimacing.
"Just another inch," Dawn urged.
Xander adjusted his grip on her ankles and tried to stand up taller. What does she eat, lead bricks?
"Oo! I can see in!"
"Keep it down!" Kennedy whispered.
"Whatcha got, Dawnie?" Faith asked.
"Oh, my God."
"Uh, you done up there? 'Cause I like my spine unbroken, thanks," Xander grunted.
"Yeah, let me down," Dawn replied.
Carefully, he reached up and pulled Dawn from the window ledge, depositing her on the ground. "So?"
Dawn had turned pale and wouldn't meet anyone's eyes. "It's gotta be a spell," she whispered. "It can't be what I think I --"
Faith took a step towards her. "What? What'd you see?"
"We gotta go in," she said. "The thing in the cage? It's... I - I could be wrong, but I think it's... Spike."
***
He watched the girl drop from the window, and heard anxious voices in the alley. Well, isn't that neat? he thought. Niblet's playing detective. Won't you lot be surprised when you bring the cavalry 'round to rescue me?
He was startled when Jay returned and threw a bag of blood between the bars.
"What, not even a cup this time?" he asked with a frown. "Is the honeymoon over already?"
"Got no time," Jay shot back. "The Slayers are back, poking around."
He tore into the bag with his fangs. "I know! Isn't it swell? Go on, be a pal, shoot one of 'em for me, eh? Preferably the blonde." He began draining the bag of its liquid.
"There's no blonde," Jay said. "Two brunettes, and a couple of others... a big guy and a teenage girl."
He threw the bag against the wall, leaving an angry red smear against the concrete. "No blonde?!" he roared, rushing to the edge of the cage. "Find her. She's the one I need."
Jay took a step backwards. "Look, I still got the tranq gun. If you don't calm down --"
"Find her. Only Slayer that matters, that one." He grinned, face twisted into bumps and ridges, sharp glinting teeth streaked with blood. "After all, that's my girl."