Chapter 14: A Meeting of Minds
“Go down easy, babe/go down slow ./ Take all the time you need./We’ve no place else to go./ You threw a noose around my shadow./Got me into all this mess./I would have dove in first anyway/for less, for a whole lot less./Say farewell to the confines of my own backyard./ Weeds growin’ ’round the flowers./Sometimes the only way to break the curse/is to leave it all behind.” ~Over the Rhine , “Go Down Easy”
Dawn muttered to herself as she struggled to pull the second suitcase off the baggage carousel. Not that she blamed Buffy for wanting her own stuff, and the suitcase only held a fraction of it, but still. You’d think her sister would be grateful enough to send someone to help her if she couldn’t get away herself. But, no. Buffy had to—
A strong hand joined hers on the handle, and the suitcase was clear of the metal side. “Want some help with that, Bit?”
Dawn whirled, finding herself nose to t-shirt clad chest. “Spike?”
“Yeah, I—” He didn’t get a chance to finish, since Dawn had thrown her arms around him. “Nice to see you too,” Spike muttered, returning her embrace.
“How are you?” she demanded. “Are you okay? Buffy told me about what Dana did, but she said you were okay. And the knife! You got stabbed, right? Did you find the guy who did it? Buffy said—”
Spike chuckled, stopping her words by holding up a hand. “I knew there was gonna be hell to pay for lettin’ you and your sis talk so many hours on the phone.”
“Are you okay?” Dawn repeated, searching his face. Some of the weariness that had been present in those last days in Sunnydale was gone, at least. She still thought Spike appeared to have aged since the first time she saw him, even though that was supposed to be impossible for vampires. He looked better, though, happier even.
He smiled at her gently. “Yeah, ‘m fine. You ready to take off?”
“If we can manage to get this baggage out of here,” Dawn groused good-naturedly. “You should have seen the expressions on the faces of the guys in Customs.”
“They probably thought you needed a bag just for your shoes,” Spike teased.
Dawn huffed. “Excuse me? I think you’re confusing me with my sister. Buffy’s the one with the shoe fetish, not me.”
They stared at each other, and they both grew suddenly serious. “I’m sorry, Spike.”
“Forget it,” he replied gruffly.
She shook her head. “It was really stupid not to talk to you. Buffy told me about what happened after—you know. I felt like—”
“Forget it,” Spike repeated, cutting her off. “It’s water under the bridge an’ all that, yeah?”
Dawn nodded. “Okay.”
“You just stayin’ for the week, then?” Spike asked.
She shrugged. “It’s all the time I’ve got. It might be nice to actually finish up a school year for once.”
Spike hesitated and then asked, “But you’re still thinkin’ ’bout comin’ back here after that, right?”
“No, actually I was thinking I might join a commune in Tibet and make shawls.” Dawn rolled her eyes at him. “I told both of you that I would come back. Rome was cool, but—” She stopped, unsure of how to explain that it didn’t hold nearly as much charm as the idea of having her family all back together again. She had one more year of high school after this, and she wanted to spend it with the people she loved.
Spike shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with the outpouring of emotion. It still felt strange to him that people were so demonstrative. “It’ll be good to have you back. You’ll have to tell us whether or not the hotel suits.”
“I’m sure it’s fine, Spike,” Dawn replied. “It’s definitely better than the old house with, like, twenty other girls, right?”
He laughed. “Yeah. Lot more space than that.”
“So where’s Buffy?”
Spike hesitated. “Cordy had a vision. It was a toss-up as to who went, but—” He cleared his throat. “She thought we might want some time.”
Dawn grinned. “Good. I hope you’re planning on buying me dinner, because I’m starved.”
~~~~~
Buffy made a face and spat onto the ground. “Have I ever mentioned how much I hate vamp dust?”
“Not within the last day or two,” Wesley replied, his tone dry.
She wrinkled her nose at him. “Just because your head is higher so you don’t keep getting mouthfuls of the stuff doesn’t mean you can mock me.”
“Who said anything about mocking?” Wesley reached into the car and pulled out a bottle of water, tossing it to the Slayer.
Buffy took a long drink. “Thanks.” Screwing the cap back on, she looked over at him. “So have you and Fred had ‘the talk’ yet?”
“What talk?”
“You know, the one where you talk about where your relationship is going and how much it means to you.” She gave him a smug smile. ” That talk .”
“Ah, yes.”
Since it was said in the tone of voice that told Buffy that Wesley understood what she was referring to, but not necessarily that they’d done anything about it, she decided to push a bit. “Come on, Wes. Every time I see you two, you’re making with the googly eyes. What gives?”
Wesley picked up on the only part of that question he felt he could answer. “Googly eyes?”
“Spike’s phrase, not mine,” Buffy replied quickly. “And you’re avoiding the question. Is everything okay?”
She looked truly concerned, and so Wesley relented. “I—no, we haven’t. We’ve just been—exploring.” He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“Because of what you don’t remember?” Buffy asked.
The Slayer’s powers of intuition astounded him at times, especially because Wesley knew just how obtuse she could be at others. “Precisely.”
“Look, Wes, far be it from me to tell you how to conduct a romance,” Buffy said, her face wry. “Because I tend to suck in that department. You and Fred are good together, though, and you care for each other. Why should it matter?”
It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it did. Wesley wasn’t sure what he would find behind the locked door of his mind. He didn’t know what opening it would reveal, but he was going to try it anyway. “How” was the question.
Wesley thought the answer might finally be within reach.
“I don’t know, but it does,” he replied quietly.
Wesley started slightly when he felt a hand on his arm. “We’ll find the answers,” Buffy said with quiet assurance. “We always have in the past, so there’s no reason not to now.”
Looking into her eyes, Wesley couldn’t help but believe her. “Of course.”
It was just a matter of time.
~~~~~
The month or so it had taken them to adjust wasn’t wasted. Just because they didn’t have to pay rent on the hotel didn’t mean they could afford to take things easy. Plus, there were the usual start-up expenses, things like ads in the telephone book, in the newspaper, and fliers to post around town. Thankfully, they still had business cards from the period of time when Angel had been in charge.
In some ways, it had been easier to keep the name. “Angel Investigations” had a nice ring to it, and no one could quite agree on a different moniker. They couldn’t even agree on a boss. Wesley didn’t want the job anymore, possibly for fear that another disaster would occur. Even though he had no memory of it, Cordelia had told him enough to make him wary of the position.
Fred and Buffy were both adamant about not being in charge; neither of them wanted the responsibility, although for different reasons. Cordelia felt about the same way, and Spike had just shaken his head when he was asked. “Still figurin’ things out for myself,” he’d said. “I don’t want to be the boss, but I’m not sure I want to take orders, either.”
The solution after that had been simple. The business had become a democracy, with the majority ruling. So far they hadn’t come up against anything that would test that policy, but it would happen eventually. When it did, the default head would most likely end up being Wesley, with everyone else reserving the right to say “I told you so.”
The best part, as Spike saw it, was that no one was overburdened with the problems that leadership always carried. Cordelia’s story about what had happened was a morality play, really. Wesley had been in charge, and he hadn’t been able to go to anyone else. It was no wonder that he’d felt the need to take matters into his own hands.
No one could say they felt the same responsibility any longer.
It was working out quite well, however. As many people as they had, the company could afford to run a number of cases at once. And, while they advertized themselves as specializing in the paranormal and unusual, they weren’t turning up their noses at routine surveilance jobs, or other typical P.I. work.
Their first case—although that had been more personal—had finally been solved. Knox’s body had been discovered. Apparently, he had committed suicide after he realized that he’d failed Illyria . Spike had been more than a little disappointed that he wouldn’t get the chance to torture him.
Spike, to his surprise, had discovered that he enjoyed it. Of course, he might have enjoyed just about anything with Buffy by his side.
Even with the constant shadow of Angel and his bartered soul hanging over their heads, it had been—fun. Sure, there had been ups and downs, but it turned out that they all largely enjoyed one another’s company.
Besides, after you start saving each other’s lives, little quirks and foibles seem pretty tolerable.
“Wow, Spike,” Dawn said, as they walked into the lobby of the Hyperion. “This place is amazing. You guys all live here?”
“Me an’ your sister do,” he admitted. “Cordelia, too. Fred and Wes have their own places, but they’re here most of the time.” Spike smiled. “Speakin’ of…”
“Hey, Spike,” Fred said cheerfully, appearing out of the back office. “You must be Dawn.” She beamed at the younger woman. “I’m Fred. How was the flight?”
Dawn shrugged. “Boring, but that’s to be expected. At least there wasn’t much turbulence.”
“Listen to the seasoned traveler,” Spike murmured, a smile quirking his lips. “You want to see the room you’ll be stayin’ in, Niblet? I’ll bring the bags up.”
“I can show her, Spike,” Fred replied. “Cordy’s back in the office. She wants to talk to you.”
Spike frowned. “Yeah, okay. Dawn?”
“I’m good,” Dawn said breezily. “I think Fred will give me way more dirt than you will, anyway.”
Spike shook his head as the pair headed up the stairs, then went to meet Cordelia in the office. “Cordelia? Fred said you wanted to talk to me.” He glanced at the books that lay scattered around her. “Still no luck?”
“Nothing,” she replied. Cordelia sighed. “I’m beginning to think there might not be a way for Angel to get out of this,” she confessed.
Spike lounged in the chair across from the desk. “Give it some time, luv. There’s a lot to be considered.”
Cordelia raised her eyebrows. “I thought you were the guy that liked to rush into things.”
“That was the old me,” Spike replied easily, although the mischief in his eyes demonstrated that that trait wasn’t so far in his past as to be completely buried.
“What about your soul?” Cordelia asked quietly. “I mean, if Angel went and completed the trials, could he keep his soul? Maybe make it permanent?”
Spike’s brow furrowed, and he leaned forward in his seat. “Dunno,” he admitted. “It depends on the relative power differential between that demon and Wolfram and Hart. If they’ve got as much as everybody seems to think, it could be risky.”
“But there’s a chance.”
“There’s always a chance,” Spike replied. “I think we’d better look at a few other solutions before we go runnin’ to Angel with that one, though. It’s all up to him, an’—”
Spike stopped. Even though tact wasn’t always his strong suit, he could wield it on occasion. “And Angel hasn’t shown any indication that he wants to leave Wolfram and Hart.”
“Yeah,” Spike replied. “Of course, if we could hand him his son on a platter, make sure the kid’ll still be okay, he might do it.”
“You don’t believe that.”
It was said in a flat tone that brooked no argument, and the vampire winced. He’d kept his opinions on Angel largely to himself. The others were convinced that his grandsire needed saving, but Spike wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know.”
“You think he’s beyond help?”
“I think he might not want our help.” Spike sighed. “Angel has a pretty lofty idea of his own importance,” he said quietly. “He’s got an even higher opinion of his ability to make the right decision. Right now, he thinks he’s doin’ what’s best, an’ I don’t know how you’re goin’ to convince him otherwise.”
Cordelia couldn’t disagree, even though she wanted to. Spike—whatever his fashion sense, which Buffy was doing her poor best to remedy—was remarkably insightful. She knew Angel really well; at one point, she would have said she knew him best.
She wasn’t sure she knew the Angel that was heading up Wolfram & Hart, however.
“What do you suggest I do, Spike? Give up?”
“Never.” The single word had her looking at him in surprise, and she found his blue eyes fixed on her in an unwavering stare. The intensity of it shocked her. “You never give up on the people you love.”
His fervent words drew a sigh of relief from Cordelia. “Thank you, Spike,” she said softly, recognizing the offer of support he’d tacitly given.
Spike shrugged, uncomfortable with her gratitude. “Yeah, whatever. I’d better go see what Dawn’s gotten up to. Gotta take her bags upstairs too.”
“Spike.” The unspoken question stopped him at the door, even though he didn’t turn around. “I think I understand what Buffy sees in you.”
He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “Told you I’m not just a pretty face, Cheerleader.”
Cordelia laughed a little and shook her head. Spike never could stay serious for long. She ran a finger over the framed picture on the desk. All the photos of Conner had disappeared, but there was one of all of them together she’d found among her things—Angel, Wesley, Gunn, Fred, and her. Cordy didn’t remember who had taken the photo, but it hardly mattered.
What mattered was making sure that Angel was out of harm’s way. Even if they were never a team again, Cordy just wanted to see him safe.
She still loved him.