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.