PART: 3/10
RATING: PG13
AUTHOR’S NOTE: At this point in
time, series 6/3 is about to start in the UK.
Therefore, this series is about to become very AU. It is set after series 5/2, Buffy will stay
dead, Anya is also dead and Spike’s past is as told in VO I. Lindsey is still working for Wolfram and
Hart. Why? I don’t know, ask him!
Angel knew it was still day
out. He could feel the drag of the sun,
even though he couldn’t see it. He was
also dimly aware of something else.
Something calling to his demon, something cool and Spike shaped in the
bed with him. The blood of his ‘foster’
Childe was playing tricks on his senses.
The others had always lived there, in the shadowy corners of his dreams,
calling to him to come home. It was how
Wolfram and Hart had pulled that stunt with Darla so easily. She had already been there, in his greatest
dreams and his worst nightmares, her and Penn, and Drucilla, and Spike.
Spike! This wasn’t a dream. He was here, here in this bed. Angel was instantly awake. He was uncomfortable with this and he knew
he shouldn’t be, but he was. He shifted
in the bed, trying to move away from the almost foetal form. “How long has Spike been here anyway?” He wondered.
“Spike, what are you doing?”
“Sleeping!”
“Why here?”
“I’m cold and lonely. Any objections, Mate?”
A million and one objections
flooded through Angel’s mind, not least of which was his growing erection, an
autonomic response to the close proximity of his Childe, especially after this
morning’s ritual. It should have been
sealed with a sexual act but neither vampire had seemed in the mood. This was probably as close as Spike was ever
going to get to it as well. And now
Angel felt cold and lonely.
For their entire ‘lone
hunter’ style image, vampires were gregarious by nature. They nested for God’s sake. A creature, so vulnerable during the day,
needed others around him for safety while he slept, and family blood ties took
on a whole new meaning, when blood was your only connection. Not that there weren’t tensions within the
group. And those tensions often erupted
into violent displays, as the nest hierarchy was established, but it had to be
said that, as a demonic species, they didn’t do well alone.
Angel tentatively laid an
arm over the waist of the other. The
touch wasn’t rejected, so he grew bolder, drawing Spike in towards him until
they were spooned in the centre of the bed.
If he could only find out what was distressing William so much, then
maybe he could help and maybe Spike would stay. He wanted him to stay. He
wanted the Slayer of Slayers. Spike was
ruthless, cunning and evil. Definitely,
evil but the call of family blood was relentless. Angel made a silent promise, he had failed Penn and Drucilla, he
would not fail William.
Spike was soon sound asleep
again and Angel comfortably drifting when a sudden intrusion took him by
surprise. The door was thrown open and
Wesley stood in the doorway. Before he
could say anything, Angel motioned him to be quiet and carefully got out of the
bed. Wesley averted his eyes at the
sight of the naked and aroused vampire.
Angel put on a robe and came to the door.
“Don’t you knock in
England? I thought manners were a
national pastime.”
“Cordelia came to me today
and gave me some disturbing news and now I find that, not only is what she said
true, but frankly even more disturbing.”
“Outside.” Angel commanded, but Wesley continued,
“It seems, to both Cordelia
and myself, that whenever a member of your extended vampiric family is in the
vicinity, you lose a certain modicum of perspective. Cordelia is scared, Angel.
She says that a vampire called Spike is here and from her description,
it sounds to me like William the Bloody.
Please tell me that isn’t him in your bed.”
“One, it’s none of your
business, two, don’t call Spike, William the Bloody to his face, it isn’t a
complement and three, well for three read one.”
“I think, considering the
past, it is very much our business. Are
we in danger here?”
“Only if you carry on
yammering while some of us are trying to FUCKING kip, Mate.” Roared those oh so London tones from deep
inside the room. Angel ushered Wesley
quickly out of the door.
By about seven, Hal finished
up in the kitchen of her small apartment and called Lindsey in to dinner. She loved to cook. It wasn’t dissimilar from genetics. She dimmed the lights and lit the candles. He held her chair before sitting down
himself. Dinner had been his idea.
“So what’s the
occasion?” She asked.
“Do I need an occasion other
than I love you and there’s an ‘r’ in the month?”
“She smiled, “It’s August.”
“Okay, an ‘a’ then.” But he did have a reason. He was increasingly nervous about her work
or, more specifically, how Wolfram and Hart were using it.
He knew that, when she had
started, it was with a dream of helping demons. She had once found a wounded demon in her back yard, as a
child. It had obviously been in a fight
with something, and had begged the young Hal Dillinger for help. She had hidden it in her tree house, but
day-by-day, the monster had got weaker.
Whatever it ate, it wasn’t potato chips and finally it had died. Ever since, she had wanted to be a demon
doctor.
But it wasn’t possible just
to go the University of California, and ask for a research grant into
something, that was still mythology to the world at large. So, she started to ingratiate herself into
demonology society, and it hadn’t been long before she’d been introduced to
Wolfram and Hart and met Lindsey. He
loved her; he didn’t want to see her hurt and the Firm wanted your very
soul. It was necessary for him to work
with them, he was in too deep and they already had his soul, but she didn’t
have to.
“Hal, have you ever thought
about moving on?”
She put down her wine glass and
folded her arms. “Even if there was a
ring in the glass, I wouldn’t leave my job, Lindsey. It’s too important right now.”
“I’m not asking you to give
up work altogether, but you must have built up one hell of a resume by
now. I’m stuck but…well - I just feel
that Nathan Reed owns both our souls right now.”
“You are getting too
involved in my work. How can someone
own your soul?”
He was about to answer when
the beep on the sofa went off. “It’s
Reed,” she said frowning at the display.
“I’ve got to go.” She put on her
coat and headed for the door.
“That’s how.” He said to the empty apartment.
Spike lay in bed, even
though the sun had set an hour ago. He
would have been happy never to get up again.
It made little difference that he had done the leaving for the first
time in his existence, he still felt abandoned and cold. It made a great deal of difference that he
did not have the moral high ground on this one. He had lied to Xander, done a deal with the mob, behind his back
and nearly got them all killed.
Whatever his motives he was not in the right.
Then Angel was yelling and
pulling off the bedclothes. “If you’re
going to be here, you’re damn well going to earn your corn. Get up, get dressed and get downstairs now.”
“’Cos?”
“’Cos, I’ve just spoken with
Giles. I don’t like being hoodwinked,
Spike. I thought you were genuinely in
trouble. I’ve told him you’re under my
protection or he’d be here with the stake right now. I can’t work and watch you at the same time, you’re just going to
have to be part of the team.”
“Fu….”
“No. Not a word and
especially that one.” Angel began
tossing items of clothing at Spike.
Both boots managed to hit him, even though he ducked. Angel then snarled and swept out of the
room, “You have three minutes.”
“Fucking, cock-sucking,
wanker.” Muttered Spike, but he obeyed.
In the hotel foyer, Angel
Investigations was beginning its early evening briefing. Cordelia opened the post. Wesley was putting the final additions to a
number of reports. Spike could see his
presence wasn’t welcome. He stood in
the shadows and watched. Out of the
blue, Cordelia started to moan and dropped the letter opener. She clutched her head and tried to speak
through the pain, but the agony was overwhelming and she felt herself falling
and then being caught.
“Whoa, steady there
Princess. Well, what you standing there
for, like the great poof what you are?
Get the lady a stiff one and I don’t mean cock. You okay, Sweet Pea?”
Ignoring Spike, Angel
asked. “What did you see?” .
“Fucking dozy question, the
floor.” Spike put Cordelia down gently
and went to the bar himself. When he
came back, they were all standing around Cordelia as she related the vision. Wesley took notes and Angel gently prodded
with questions. “Wow, the cheerleader
is a seer! Well fuck me sideways ‘til
Christmas!!” He thought. He handed Cordelia the drink.
“Any luck?” Angel was addressing Fred.
“No, Gunn’s not there
either.”
“We’ll go without him. Damn!
I wish he wouldn’t do this!”
“In his defence, he does
have other responsibilities.” Said
Wesley.
“We’ll bring Spike.” Angel said as he began to collect weapons.
Cordelia was furious, her
friend had been treated like dirt but the Blond bomb-shell got a party invite,
“Hypocrite much!” She snapped. “You were all so like ‘she’s going to betray
you, Cordelia, she’s of the bad Cordelia’ and just because I saw him in the
vision…I sort of iceberged my argument there didn’t I?”
Angel smiled, nodded and
ushered them all to the car. All except
Fred, who stayed in case Gunn showed up.
Spike sat next to Angel and
said nothing. Wesley and Cordelia
hadn’t wanted him. What was new? No one wanted him. He didn’t care. What he
did care about was that the neighbourhood was getting progressively
rougher. The street sign said Avalon
but somehow this didn’t strike him as Arthur’s paradise. This was hell. The grey apartment blocks rose like stone giants from granite
coloured pavements. Not a tree, not a
bird, only stray dogs and disowned cars.
The place stunk of a city in decay.
Spike knew that smell. It was
what he had died to escape from. The
people here were soulless, disaffected, shut down and dangerous. He didn’t want to be attacked by some street
gang out for kicks. He’d had quite
enough humiliation that way thank-you.
“This ain’t the sorta place
you’d want to be caught in after dark, so what the fuck are we doing here after
dark?” Spike asked belligerently.
“You want to come out in the
day? Cos it could be so arranged Blondie.” Cordelia snapped back.
“Shh!” Angel whispered, “Is this it ‘Delia?”
“Ah huh, I think so.” Angel slowed the car so that she could get
her bearings, mapping the vision’s image onto the reality. When she was sure, he stopped and they all got
out of the car.
“By the playground
there. There’s some trash cans, so
you’d think these people would use them, but no, they leave it around,
encouraging demons, demons like - that one.”
She pointed and it looked up from the garbage and started towards them.
The thing reeked just like
the streets around. It looked rotten
almost putrid and made both Wesley and Cordelia gag. Flesh hung from it in great flapping chunks, and it’s shuffling
gait told of a twisted skeletal frame.
The whole thing was sick and warped.
But from the misshapen skull peered the most sorrowful eyes.
It lurched towards Angel and
he took a huge swing at it with his battle-axe. The creature was quicker than it appeared and easily sidestepped
the incoming blow. Wesley also swung at
it with the short sword he was carrying.
The creature snarled at him, only to screech as a crossbow bolt hit it
in the side.
It spun towards Cordelia
snarling, venomous liquid oozing from its lips.
“Well done, Princess. Piss it off why don’tcha? Fucking ‘ell!!” The thing lumbered towards the blond vampire. He had no weapons other than his fists so he
hit it, hard.
Spike clutched his head and
screamed. The pain was
excruciating. He reeled, unable to
stand, as the pulses of agony continued to echo around his cranium and then he
vomited.
“Hey! Watch the shoes!” Cordelia yelled.
“BACK! BACK!”
Angel hollered but Spike was doubled over and continued to heave. Angel scooped him up over his broad shoulder
and they all fled back to the car.
“What the hell just happened
there?” Angel barked at Spike.
“Don’t ‘ave a fucking go at
me, Mate. I didn’t bleeding do
nuffink.”
“Maybe it’s a puke
demon.” Cordelia offered.
“Its an escaped demon!” Angel was livid. “That’s two for two. Why
do things like this always happen when you’re around Spike?”
“How the bloody fuck can
this be my fault?!! I’m the one who
managed the Technicolor yawn!”
“But why, William?” Wesley asked, “Did you feel something when
you touched the demon? You seemed in
pain.”
“Oi, Upper Class Twit of the
Year, I never said you could call me William!”