Chapter 14: November 2005
A/N: O bechod is translated “poor thing.” Fy nghariad i is “my love.”
Nika sat next to Wesley on the couch, feeling helpless in the wake of his emotions. He was usually so reserved that it was hard to know how to react now that he had let down his guard. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, feeling unreasonably awkward. They had been so comfortable with one another earlier. “I should have told you about my visit to Angel. But then we got busy, and I just didn’t think about it.”
“I’m not angry at you,” Wesley said quietly, his voice under tight control.
Nika took a chance and moved a little closer to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Okay. That’s good, because you sure could have fooled me.” After a lengthy pause, she asked, “Then what has you so upset, Wesley?”
“What am I supposed to do if Angel forgives me?”
The question was not what she was expecting, and she had no idea how to respond. Nika would have thought that Angel’s forgiveness was what Wesley wanted, not something that made him angry. “I don’t understand.”
“What if he wants to pick up where we left off? Or he asks me to come back to work for him?” His voice sounded oddly muted, as though he was choking back tears. “What do I do then? It’s not as though I could leave you or Spike, and they wouldn’t—they wouldn’t understand.”
“What do you want to do?” She could feel him draw in a breath to answer, and she squeezed his shoulders, interrupting what he had been about to say. “Don’t say what you think I want to hear, and don’t worry about Spike for a minute. Just tell me what you want.”
“Nothing,” Wesley said, his voice harsh in the quiet of the room. “I want nothing from him.”
Nika let her hands slip away as he stood, pacing—stalking—around the room. “I can’t go back to the way things were. I can’t—I trusted him.”
“You’re angry with him,” she stated.
He whirled to face her, and she could tell that he was still trying to stay in control. Three years’ worth of hurt and anger were bound to escape at some point, and Nika could tell Wesley was at the boiling point. “Yes!” Staring at her, he asked in a bare whisper, “But how can I be angry, after what I did to him… I deserved it.”
She stayed silent, waiting, wanting to see if he would eventually open up to her on his own without her prying. Finally he spoke, more to himself than to her. “He was my friend. I trusted him with my life, and he tried to kill me. I was wrong. I betrayed him. But he didn’t even ask—” Wesley looked up at Nika, his voice plaintive as he addressed himself to her. “Why didn’t he ask? I never wanted to hurt him. I just wanted to protect him—and Connor. He was my friend.”
“I know,” she replied.
“I wanted to tell someone.” Wesley continued his disjointed explanation. “I couldn’t tell Angel though; he was acting so strangely. Cordelia was off with the Groosalug. And, of course, Gunn and Fred…” He nearly choked on the words. “I couldn’t even look at them together. There was no one.”
Nika looked at him, waiting for him to finish. “He didn’t even ask me… I would have died for him. I hurt him so badly, and now I think I might hate him.”
Now she stood, wrapping her arms around him, feeling the trembling of his body. “O bechod,” she murmured. “Wesley, fy nghariad i. It’s alright to be angry with him, with all of them. They were your family, and they left you. Family does not do such a thing.” Pulling back, Nika took him by the hand and pulled him into her bedroom. “It’s right to be angry when you’re hurt. I’m angry with him for you.”
“But what I did—” The protest was weak, but Wesley still felt it. What he had done left him no room to cast stones or lay blame. The rage he felt was irrational, and he had no idea how to exorcise it.
Nika lay a finger on his lips, stilling his words. “What you did hurt Angel,” she agreed. “What he did, and what the others did, hurt you.” She kissed him on the forehead, on the cheek, on the lips, tasting his tears as they fell. “Personally, right now I’m really pissed off at him. He ruined what should have been a wonderful evening.”
Wesley couldn’t even manage a chuckle at her slightly outraged tone. He hadn’t cried since he had been infected with Billy’s blood. Even the loss of everything he’d ever held dear hadn’t caused him to cry. If the truth were to be told, Wesley had so walled off his emotions that nothing had reached him. He’d been too busy trying to survive to allow himself to grieve. He half-wondered if seeing Fred with Gunn hadn’t started the progression—not allowing himself to feel. And now he felt—
Nika’s hands on his shoulders, arms, chest. Her light kisses dusting his skin. Wesley had wanted this so badly, and now all he could do was cry for what had been lost. She tugged his shoes off, pushing him to lay down on the bed, pillowing his head on her chest. “Shh,” she comforted. “Cariad, we all have to grieve. So tonight you mourn for what was lost. Tomorrow is soon enough for exploring what is in front of us.”
“I love you,” he said hoarsely, allowing himself to take comfort in the fact that she clutched him tighter at his words.
“And I love you.” She stroked his face. “Sleep, Wesley. I’ll be here when you wake.”
~~~~~
Nika stirred sleepily, slowly realizing that Wesley was having yet another nightmare. It had been a rough night for the both of them, as bad dreams had plagued the ex-Watcher, and consequently her as well.
The first couple of times he’d woken her with his tossing and turning, all the more frightening for his utter silence. From the look on his face, it was obvious that Wesley had been dreaming about being smothered. He wore the sort of expression one imagined drowning victims wearing just before they started swallowing water.
Both times Nika had shaken him awake and then had tightened her embrace. She knew without being told what he was dreaming about; he’d told her that Angel had tried to kill him with a pillow while he was in a hospital bed. It was no wonder he was dreaming about that particular incident again, given the cause of his emotional upheaval.
This time, however, Wesley was muttering something in his sleep—something about his father, and please, and let me out. Nika didn’t know much about his parents, but she knew enough to sense the distance that was there. Occasionally Wesley would make a comment about his father, and the culmination of those comments was that Nika strongly hoped she never met the man. She’d be too tempted to lay a particularly vile hex on him.
Nika nudged Wesley, shifting him slightly off of her arm, which had gone to sleep. “Hey, cariad, wake up. Come on, Wesley. It’s just a dream.”
He still tossed, muttering, struggling with the demons he couldn’t seem to outrun. “Ah, Wesley,” Nika murmured. “What have they made of you, my love?”
Not even her voice seemed to calm him, and so she bent down and kissed him on the lips, deepening it slowly as he began to respond to her. They might have been Prince Charming and Sleeping Beauty, except with the roles reversed.
Wesley’s eyes blinked open slowly as he realized that the nightmare had ended, and the bright light of day was streaming into the room. “Danika?”
“Yes?” She smiled at him, satisfied to see that he looked better rested than his rather restless night would have predicted.
“Were you here all night?” Wesley frowned slightly, dimly recalling the nightmares and her constant presence. “Did I wake you?”
“Several times,” Nika replied, smiling slightly to show she bore him no anger. “The waking up with you here was worth it, though.”
“You stayed,” he said, his voice holding a note of wonder.
“Wesley,” she replied patiently, “you’re in my bed. And I promised you I wouldn’t leave.” Her gray eyes glittered, and Wesley could sense a barely restrained anger—and behind that anger, a power. He forgot, sometimes, that she had her own skills, her own abilities. He might be a trifle better than an amateur magician with a little power, but her strength resided in her blood and training. “If I thought it would do you any good, I’d put a curse on both of them,” she said, voicing her thoughts of earlier.
He shook his head. “Angel had reason,” he said gently, recalling his earlier nightmares.
Nika looked disgruntled. “I’m not sure I care. I hate to see you in pain.” She smiled sweetly at him. “So sue me. I’m biased.”
Wesley chuckled. “That’s actually nice to hear.” He paused. “What time is it?”
“Late,” she replied without looking at the clock. “I think it’s after ten. I never sleep this late.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “And I don’t think Spike’s up yet. At least, I don’t hear him.”
“I hope he and Buffy had a good evening,” Wesley said sincerely.
Nika pushed herself off the bed. “Only one way to find out.” She smiled at him. “Why don’t you take a shower, cariad? You’ll probably want to get out of the clothes you slept in.”
“Indeed,” Wesley replied. “You don’t happen to—”
“Your spare clothing’s in the bottom drawer,” Nika said. She ran a hand through her hair and wandered out into the kitchen to make the coffee. She was taking her first sip when Wesley came up behind her.
“Do you know where my shirt is?” he asked. Nika turned and felt the bolt of desire hit her somewhere below the stomach.
She shook her head. “You ruined the last one you left here, remember?”
“Do you have another I might borrow, then?” Wesley asked, frowning. He couldn’t quite place the look on her face.
Nika gave him a saucy smile. “There’s one of Spike’s in the laundry room, but maybe you could just not wear a shirt?” she suggested. “I really wouldn’t mind.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.” Their kiss this time was less sweet and more heated, heading rapidly for R-rated territory when they heard a throat being cleared. Wesley took his own sweet time pulling away from her, and looked back over at Spike.
“’bout bloody time,” was the vampire’s observation. “You got any of that coffee for Buffy?” he asked. “I’m goin’ to see if I can’t tempt her awake.”
Wesley looked a little surprised. “Buffy stayed here last night?”
“Yeah,” Spike said, trying to keep himself from grinning like an idiot. For all the sexcapades they’d engaged in, the last night just spent talking had been the best night he’d ever spent with the Slayer. By far. “We talked.”
Nika and Wesley exchanged amused glances, and Spike realized he probably had a goofy smile on his face. “It was nice!”
“I’m sure it was,” Nika assured him. “What comes next?”
Spike’s smile faded. He honestly had no idea what happened next. He didn’t even know what he wanted to happen now. “Dunno,” he replied honestly. “We’ll just have to see how it goes.” The vampire grabbed his mug of coffee and disappeared down the stairs, leaving a slight pall behind him.
“I shouldn’t have asked,” Nika said regretfully.
“It’ll be alright, love,” Wesley replied. He took the mug of coffee that Nika held out to him and looked thoughtfully at the basement door. “It’s just going to take some time.”
~~~~~
Buffy entered the Hyperion around noon. She and Spike had talked for hours, until the sun came up, and then she’d caught a nap on his couch before leaving. Feeling lighter than she had in a long time, Buffy smiled. They had managed to re-establish the cautious connection that had been there soon after her resurrection. She could honestly say that she understood Spike a lot better now than she ever had before.
Her warm and fuzzy feelings towards the vampire probably had something to do with the fact that Spike had talked for at least half the time. Instead of listening to her problems, she’d listened to his. She found out what demons he’d killed lately, that he and Wesley shared a love for movies and Playstation, and that he wasn’t seeing anyone.
That last had been a relief. Coupled with Nika’s obvious attraction to Wesley, Buffy had realized that she might still have a shot with him. Not a great one, of course, but the Slayer had come to the conclusion that men were the oil to her water. It didn’t matter how much she liked the guy; sooner or later he left, and she had no one to blame for it but herself.
Actually, come to think of it, she could blame every guy but Spike.
There wasn’t anything in the world that could disturb her sense of well-being right now. At least, that’s what she thought until she saw Angel barreling towards her. “Buffy! You’re back.” He frowned at her. “We were worried.”
“I wasn’t,” Dawn said from her position behind the lobby counter. She and Connor were doing something on the computer, and she raised her head to give her sister a smile. “Good night?”
“It was great,” Buffy replied. Not even Angel’s disapproving gaze could change that. “How was yours?” She was completely ignoring her ex-boyfriend at this point, having no use for his over-protective-jealous routine.
Dawn grinned. “Good. Connor and I watched movies all night with a friend of mine. We just got back a little while ago.”
Buffy didn’t even blink. She and Dawn had talked about their plans for the evening, and Buffy didn’t have a problem with overnight group activities. In fact, she was fairly well aware that she didn’t have a right to have a problem with any of Dawn’s activities. Her sister wasn’t a minor any longer, and she was paying her own way through college. “That’s good, Dawnie,” she replied, realizing that part of Angel’s discomfort stemmed from the fact that Connor was also out all night.
“Buffy, can I talk to you?” Angel looked upset, and Buffy bit back a sigh. She didn’t want to have this conversation with him. Every time they did, someone ended up getting hurt. Last time they had a talk about her boyfriend, it was centered around Riley, and it hadn’t ended well.
She nodded, knowing that she didn’t have a way out of it at this point. Following him into his office, she sat down as he shut the door. “What’s going on with Spike?” he asked, with no preamble.
“Spike and I are friends, Angel,” Buffy replied evenly, determined not to give anything away.
Angel sat down behind his desk, the large expanse of wood separating them. It could have been the Grand Canyon as far as Buffy was concerned, she felt that far removed from him these days. “Spike is evil.”
Buffy started laughing. She couldn’t help it. She’d used that phrase for years, even after he’d begun to show signs of changing. Using it to rebuff every advance he made, that excuse had been a shield. It was the rationalization she’d given herself for using Spike and then hurting him. Evil things don’t feel.
In reality, Spike did nothing but feel. She could see it now.
“You know, Angel,” Buffy finally said, after she’d caught her breath. “Number one, Spike’s not evil. Number two, I’m really hurt that you think I’d let him around Dawn if he were. If he were evil, he would have had her for lunch the summer I was dead.” She didn’t bother explaining about the chip. She wasn’t in the mood.
Angel stared at her. “Buffy—”
“I’m not interested in talking about my relationship with Spike.” Buffy’s tone left no room for argument.
Angel hesitated and then sighed. “Fine, Buffy. That’s your call. There’s something else, though.”
“What is it, Angel?” She had to work hard to modulate her voice so that it didn’t come off as snappish as she felt. After all, Angel was sleeping with Cordelia, of all people. Granted, she’d changed, but still…people in glass houses, and all that.
“Is everything okay?” the vampire finally asked carefully. Angel had sensed something “off” about Buffy from the moment she’d first walked into the hotel, but he had no idea what it might be.
The Slayer sighed. Spike had told her last night that Angel probably sensed her pregnancy, even if he hadn’t said anything about it. Of course, Spike hadn’t said it quite like that, but Buffy had known what he meant. It was a friendly, yet unobtrusive, way of warning her that Angel would be asking some questions she might not want to answer.
“I’m pregnant,” she admitted.
Angel’s jaw dropped. “By Spike?”
Buffy stared. “What? No! What gave you that idea?”
“You—and he—with Connor…”
“My baby is not part of some prophecy,” Buffy said firmly. She didn’t actually know that for sure, but she’d have to kick someone’s ass if it was true. Her kid was not going to have some grand destiny that left them dead. And someone should have warned her. If it was part of someone’s grand design that she would get knocked up by a prick like Peter, they needed to have their idea of destiny rearranged. Preferably by her fist.
Angel looked doubtful, but he seemed to sense Buffy’s mood, and he didn’t argue. “Who’s the father, Buffy?”
“He’s not in the picture.” That was only partially true, since she was supposed to meet Peter and sign the papers next week. True to his word, he had gotten a lawyer—she got to keep the baby, and he got to keep his money.
The look on Angel’s face was oddly similar to the one on Spike’s—like he wanted to find the guy and rip his throat out. “Who is he?”
“Spike asked me the same question, and I gave him the same answer. You can’t kill him, Angel.” Buffy smiled. “I’ll be fine.”
“What about slaying?” Angel insisted. “Who’s going to help you?”
Buffy looked uncertain for a brief second before managing to put on her happy face. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”
Angel regarded her seriously, deciding to put the Spike thing aside for the moment and move on to the truly important matters: Buffy and her safety. “How long before slaying is a problem?”
“Another few months,” Buffy replied reluctantly, unsure of where he might be going with this line of questioning.
Angel nodded. “That’s what I thought. What if I sent Connor to you for a while?”
Buffy’s eyes widened. “Huh?”
“He’s a good fighter,” Angel explained patiently. “And a pretty good kid, if I do say so myself. Connor could take over patrol for you until the baby’s born and you’re ready to pick it up again.”
“Shouldn’t you check with him first?” Buffy asked, bemused.
Angel shrugged and then bellowed his son’s name. Connor’s head poked through the doorway moments later. “You called?”
“What would you think of going to Sunnydale for a while and taking over the slaying gig?”
Connor blinked. “What? Dad, if you’re trying to get rid of me—”
Buffy could sense an imminent explosion and hastened to intervene. “I don’t know if Dawn told you, but I’m pregnant,” the Slayer explained. “Your dad thought you could help me patrol the Hellmouth when I can’t.”
Connor stared at the both of them, trying to figure out if they were telling the truth or if Angel was trying to get him out of town for some reason. Reading nothing but honesty in their eyes and faces, he shrugged, abruptly saying, “Okay. I’ve never seen a Hellmouth before.”
“You don’t want to,” Buffy and Angel replied in tandem. Green eyes met hazel, and they shared a smile full of old memories of battles past. “Thanks, Connor,” Buffy said, not taking her eyes off of Angel. She realized she and Angel were actually sharing resources, and the Slayer wondered if perhaps they hadn’t finally made it past the worst of the bumps on their way to real friendship.
There was silence as the tension in the room disappeared, leaving nothing but camaraderie in its place. “Sure thing,” Connor said, backing out of the room.
The boy went over to sit next to Dawn by the computer again. “What’s up?” she asked.
“Not much,” Connor replied, watching the computer as Dawn took her turn at the role playing game. “Dad just wanted me to help your sister out on patrol in Sunnydale.”
Dawn smiled. “I’m glad,” she said honestly. “I’ll feel better knowing that you’re with her.”
Dawn wasn’t sure exactly when things had changed. Her sister might be acting like pod-Buffy right now, but Dawn had every intention of taking advantage of it. In fact, she might just have to rethink staying in L.A. for the summer. For the first time in a long time, she thought she might actually have the family she wanted.
~~~~~
Buffy’s hand strayed toward the phone for what had to be the fifth time that day. Even though she’d had to work, her mind had continually wandered to Spike, wondering what he was doing. And even though she knew he was probably sleeping—hello? Vampire—she wanted to call him. She wanted to hear his voice, and it had only been a few days.
Of course, now that she was home and getting ready to go out and patrol, she had nothing to distract her from thoughts of Spike. Three years of not even knowing where he was, and suddenly she couldn’t get him out of her mind. It was as if missing Spike was a Pandora’s box, and once opened, impossible to close again.
Taking a deep breath, the Slayer picked up the phone. If he was busy, she could just leave a voicemail. At least she’d hear him on the message. And if he wasn’t busy, maybe he wouldn’t mind talking for a while.
She put the phone down again.
Spike hadn’t called her, and he hadn’t asked her to call him. In fact, he’d given no sign at all that he wanted to see her again, even though he knew she was coming back down for part of Dawn’s Christmas break. What if he’d gotten his closure, and didn’t want to see her again? What if he was still angry with her? After all, she’d said she was sorry, but he’d never said he’d forgiven her. And he’d never answered her letter. Buffy had the sinking feeling that Spike would never have answered her letter; it was just dumb luck, running into each other at Caritas that night.
Buffy sighed. She should respect his privacy and not call then. That would be better. Give Spike his space, and wait for him to contact her.
Except, what if he was waiting for her to make a move?
Suddenly, Buffy was just pissed off, both at herself and the stupid vampire who was managing to tie her up in knots without even knowing it. She gave a frustrated growl, grabbed a stake and stalked out the door. She needed to kill something to clear her head.