It was quiet in the
office. The lull before the storm
Wesley suspected, but at least he was able to get some work done and a little
research of his own. He was as sure as
he could be that Spike was telling the truth about the chip but that didn’t
stop him from doing a little digging on William the Bloody. Christ, he hadn’t heard that title since he
was in training and what he was reading now didn’t exactly fill him with
joy. His linage and age seemed
debatable although most writers could agree that he was related to Angelus,
consort of Drusilla and – oh no - killer of no less than two Slayers. A vicious and thorough slaughterer with a
penchant for railway spikes, hence the nickname, and about as subtle as a house
brick in the face. Wesley took off his
glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with weary resignation. “Why are you here, Spike?” He said to the page. “What are the Powers that Be trying to show
us?”
He hurriedly cleared the
books away. It wouldn’t do for Angel to
discover his investigations. The ex
Watcher didn’t enjoy showdowns with the souled demon. He was no alpha male and since having met Angelus, all be it a
drug-induced version, he could better see where one started and the other
finished. And besides, Spike’s presence
had to be bringing the caged beast closer to the surface.
He was just in time, a clear
vampiric snarl echoed in the foyer.
Apparently, Spike had risen just before sundown and was on the
prowl. Wesley went to investigate.
“Do I look worried by that, Mister?”
Said Cordelia, squaring up to the vampire. To be fair she’d have taken him on, chip or no chip. “Cloth, sponge, get cleaning. I want to be able to eat off it!” She pointed at the blood-splattered
microwave.
“Who died and made her Stalin?”
Spike grumbled. He was lucky
that she didn’t have time to reply because at that moment Angel and Gunn
appeared from opposite ends of the room.
“Nothing!” They said in
unison. Gunn sprawled himself on what
Spike had come to see as ‘his’ sofa.
“Worse than nothing,” He continued, “This thing certainly ain’t
attacking no one. I talked to every
project gang leader out there.”
Spike went to sit on the
sofa. He tossed the cleaning implements
onto the table and growled at Gunn who, to the vampire’s amazement, growled
back. Really growled. Spike wasn’t going to be intimidated by two
humans in one evening so he made a great deal of picking up his fags from the
table, knocking Gunn’s feet as he did so.
“Ya know, ya’r two seconds
away from dusting.” Snapped Gunn.
Spike just smiled, “Yes,” He
sniggered mentally, “Reaction.” He
pulled a cheap, green, bic lighter from his jeans pocket and lit his first
cigarette of the night. He took a long
drag, “Ahh. That’s better. Now blood.”
He thought.
“Haven’t you forgotten
something?” Cordelia tossed the sponge
and cloth at him, “And you can put that out as well. The only smoking you get to do round here is the sunlight induced
sort.”
“What is it with this
woman?” He snarled through gritted
teeth. He made a big show of cleaning
the microwave but once her back was turned, he stubbed his cigarette out in the
centre of the glass tray and put the remainder behind his ear.
“Aw, that’s sweet of you.”
He whipped round to find
Fred regarding him with animated interest.
Quickly he cleaned away the ash, feeling more like a naughty schoolboy
than if any of the others had caught him.
She had in her hands what appeared to be an old car radio that had bred
with a mobile phone. She took the
device to the reception desk and began to tinker with it. Every now and again, she’d tut and tweak the
wires with a pair of needle nosed pliers.
Occasionally she would stop to make notes on the back of an old Chinese
menu and all the while, she talked to herself.
Everyone else ignored her.
She reminded Spike of
Drusilla. Okay, so it was electronics
and not Tarot but he somehow thought it would yield the same results. And someone had to. Gunn and Angel had shaken all their contacts
and come up with a fat nothing. Zero
too for Wesley and his books, and Cordy and the Net. He took his blood mug over to her computer to see where she’d
been looking. He helped himself to a
handful of corn chips from the bag she’d been eating and, one by one, swirled
them in the blood as if it was salsa dip.
From the look she gave him, he was glad he was already dead.
Angel was studying a text
Wesley had handed him on Urban Demons.
Spike tried to read over his shoulder, but it was all too small without
his glasses. Angel licked at the corn
chip in Spike’s hand and then absentmindedly ran his tongue along the bloody
dribbles, which trailed down Spike’s fingers.
He took Spike’s hand and nibbled at the chip. Wesley could see this becoming dangerous. He didn’t want to expose the others to the
sexual practices of vampires and he wanted Angel to concentrate. When the others of his nest were around,
Angelus rattled at his cage and used every trick he knew to get free, he could
dupe his alter ego so easily. If Angel
let his guard down even for a moment, Spike could trip the happiness clause
without even realising it.
“Can you see anything? Is there something I’ve missed? Angel?”
The vampire banged the book
shut at the sound of his name and everyone jumped. “This is impossible.” He
barked, taking a guilty step away from Spike.
“Well, let’s set out what we
have so far,” Said Wesley relieved that the moment had passed. “A demon that fits no known
description. Not unusual, there are an
infinite amount of realities and they all spawn new demons every day.”
“A demon that has no purpose
other than to stink like project garbage.”
Added Cordelia. Spike was sure
the look she gave was directed at him.
“A demon that the Powers
that Be want us to deal with. You did
have a vision.” Reminded Wesley.
“A demon that hasn’t been
making business for the ERs.” Gunn said.
“A demon that Spike can’t
hurt without intense neurological pain.”
Angel shook his head, “Spike you have to be it.”
“Excuse me, I don’t stink
like project garbage!”
“No I mean the key.”
“The last time anyone
thought I was a key, I ended up being tortured by a hell god, kicked through a
door and had to throw meself down a lift shaft. I really bloody hope I’m not a key.”
“Not you,” Said Fred. “This,” She came right up to Spike and
tapped his temple. “It’s picking up
something, look.” And she held out the
device she had been working on. As she
brought it near to Spike’s head, it began to whistle. “I’m not sure but I think…yes I think that something…it’s
transmitting and when it gets the correct signal back then if you…you know
then, well, that’s it really.”
“Are you saying that the
chip can detect humans?” Asked Wesley.
“Well no, ‘cos well it’s
anything living, isn’t it, Spike?” She
smiled at him.
“Yeah, but more so with
humans, see.” He poked Wesley in the
ribs and then clutched his head, wishing he hadn’t. The instrument Fred was holding wailed and the needle flicked up
into the red.
“Do it again.” She said.
“NO!” Spike and Wesley chorused.
Wesley thought for a moment,
“Maybe it’s picking up on body heat or pulse rate?”
But Spike shook his head,
“No, ‘cos scunge-breath didn’t ‘ave neither and I’ve managed to deck demons
that had both.”
Gunn looked impatient, “So
jus’ how many times you want, we should go round this circle?”
“It’s a lateral thinking
problem.” Said Spike, scooting round
Gunn to sit in his space on the sofa.
The rest looked at him, “Oh let me give you prannets an example, Anthony
and Cleopatra lie dead. There are no
marks and no blood. There is no weapon
in the room. They lie in a pool of
water and glass, next to a highly polished table. The window is open and the heavy velvet curtain billows in the
breeze. What happened?”
“They were shot.” Said Gunn.
“Nope. No weapon in the room and no marks on the
bodies.”
“Domestic dispute. She ka-oed him with the flower vase.” Cordelia added.
“Good try, Princess but
they’re both dead and no flowers.”
“Maybe…” Began Fred but
Angel stopped her, placing his hand on her shoulder.
“Maybe,” He said, “We’d
better stop with the games and enlist some real help. Cordelia, take Spike to Caritas.” Angel knew he should go himself but he didn’t want the Host in
his head right now. He didn’t want
anyone to know what he was feeling until he knew better himself. He’d meet them later.
Cordelia however wasn’t too
happy, “And since when does my job description cover baby sitting every vampire
house guest that drops in for a bite?!”
“Good pun.” Sniggered Spike.
“Not another word from you
or you’ll find out just how much like Stalin I can be.”
She was at great pains to
warn Spike that, if his screwball ex turned up, she could do her own
sightseeing! It was fair enough that he
wasn’t actually responsible for the demon that was her ex friend, but he was
responsible for her good sling backs stinking of vamp barf.
The Host would have liked to
have enjoyed the Frankie Valley number being performed by a couple of
reasonably talented Polgara Demons. He
would have liked to have given them a pile of smulchy crap as a reading. You’ll be coming into money, meeting your
true love at the Wal-Mart that sort of thing.
But The Powers That Be were about to ruin his evening, not to mention
his bar, in a big way. Still he wasn’t
going to just stand aside gracefully.
He’d had the spells, which guarded against demon violence, reinforced
even though he knew it would do no good.
The PTBs wanted to use Caritas for a little demonstration and there
wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
It did not make for a good evening.
“Oh no,” Said Lorne,
extremely agitated. “No, Honey. I’m sorry, no vampires allowed in my
club. So it’s been nice meeting you and
keep in touch, tootles.” He tried to
steer them towards the exit.
“Since when? And that’s racism,” Said Cordelia, “And
anyway, you let Angel in. And Harmony.”
“And there are already three
in ‘ere, so shut your cake, Kermit.”
Spike looked at the karaoke bar.
He looked at the blue plush curtains behind the stage, he looked at the
purple and blue lighting, he looked at the mirrored bar and he looked at Lorne.
The Host tutted and went
behind the bar. He tapped the ‘Do not
eat the clientele’ sign but Spike just grinned, “Me grandmother always said
blue and green should never be seen, China.”
And he flicked the collar of Lorne’s double-breasted lounge suit, which
was in a brilliant azure.
“Can’t I persuade you to
take your custom elsewhere, there’s a lovely sushi bar in the next block,
seaweed to die for, if you’ll excuse the expression.”
Cordelia pulled him to the
end of the bar, “What is wrong with you?
Okay so he’s not exactly Mister ‘perfect date’ but you run a
service. Just let him sing, do his
reading and we’ll be gone. I’m not
exactly thrilled over this either, you know.”
“I can’t read him.”
“What?”
“He’s a vampire, no soul.”
“You read Angel.” Lorne looked at her until it sunk in. “Oh.
Okay. So soul. But you read Harmony.”
“No Kitten, I read you.”
“Well can’t you do that
now?” Cordy was getting increasingly
frustrated with Lorne’s attitude.
“If I give him his reading,
terrible, terrible things will happen.”
But she showed no signs of going.
“You’re still here. Which
terrible did you not understand?”
Spike joined them, “If David
Banner here don’t want to feel me bumps makes no odds to me.”
Lorne sighed and gave
in. The PTB couldn’t be stopped anyway,
so there was no point in fighting the tidal wave. “Oh go on. Singing. Reading.
Leaving. In that order. Unless you’d rather start in reverse?”
Cordelia shook her head.
Spike went up to the stage,
“So how does this work, mystical backing tapes, ‘cos if it’s a case of reading
me mind, ain’t gonna work, Mate.”
Lorne bit back the next
remark and handed him the mike. He
instructed him in how it worked and then left the stage. He really didn’t want this. The Powers That Be had a sick sense of humor
sometimes. “Why me?” He asked himself.
Then his mind seemed to
empty, at least of his own worries, because Spike had begun to sing,
“Now you say you love me,
You cried the whole night
through,
Well, you can cry me a
river,
Cry me a river,
I cried a river over you.”
It was amazing, crystal
clear notes, passionate intonation and powerful expression. Cordelia stood with her mouth open.
“Now you say you’re sorry
For being so untrue,
Well, you can cry me a
river,
Cry me a river,
I cried a river over you.”
“He sounds so heartbroken,”
She whispered to The Host, “Is he pining over his nutso girlfriend still? Hello?!
Dumped him twice…. Time to buy a
clue and move on, already.”
“Remember you’re listening
to a demon, Cupcakes. Vampires are
naturally seductive. It’s how they hunt.” But even Lorne was being taken in, or was
he? He could feel something. See something? “Keep singing, Sweetums.
I’ll get it in a minute.” He
thought.
The song was reaching the
first middle eight,
“You drove me, nearly drove
me,
Out of my head,
When you never shed a tear.
Remember, I remember all
that you said,
Told me love was through for
being,
Told me you were through
with me,”
A group of suit types were
getting a little rowdy in the front.
“Hey, trying to listen here!”
Shouted Cordelia but they just heckled and laughed. Some of them crossed the bar and began to
jostle her.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to
interrupt your boyfriend’s caterwauling.”
“He’s so not my…”
“Free are you then? And easy I’ll bet.”
Angel arrived in the doorway
feeling foolish. He’d sent Cordy out
with a dangerous vampire on her own, just because he was afraid of his own
feelings. Still everything seemed all
right. Wesley’s panic and Gunn’s
threats appeared to be for nothing. He
stared at Spike. Hell, it was a long
time since he’d heard either boy or demon sing. Spike used to sing to Drusilla when she got agitated but once he
was in the wheelchair, he never did.
Was the song for her? Or maybe
for Angel himself or another lost love.
The Host walked towards
Angel and whispered, “One of yours?
Talent skip a generation? He’s
good, but much as I’d like to get two shows a week, let me hit you with the
news, and then you go. All of you. Now.”
“I thought you could only
give the reading to the singer.”
“Oh this isn’t the reading,
this is something else. I hate to break
it to you ‘Daddy’ but your little bleach blond nightingale has a soul!”
It took a moment for that to
sink in. “But how?”
“Ours is not to argue with
The Powers That Be, although I’m sure as hell trying. But no he’s not cursed before you ask. He is totally unaware of its existence. It’s in his aura. His soul is hiding. He
never really died and what’s more, it’s in pain, Sweetness. And now, it’s been nice talking with you
but, tootles, ciao…skidaddle.” As he
spoke he felt a rush, as if all the energy in the room had been sucked
out. The PTB brought the anti violence
spells crashing down and Caritas was defenceless.
Spike was coming to the end
of his song,
“But now you say you love
me,
And to prove you do,
Come on and – cry me a
river,
Cry me a river,
I cried a river over you.”
The final bars of the
mystical orchestra were playing but the crowd at the front were getting
louder. From his vantage point on the
stage, Spike could see Cordelia being jostled and bumped.
“I cried a river…” He never
finished. Several of the men were
getting handy. Cordelia was trying to
fend off gropes from all sides. “Oh
come on darling, I’m a lawyer, just a little kiss.”
“Yeah, there might be
something in it for you.”
“Tits as ripe as…” That was
it; he launched himself from the stage and dived, head long into the
crowd. The lawyers scattered. Circular tables went flying and Spike found,
to his surprise and delight, that every punch connected and didn’t hurt, at least
not him. His features morphed and he
snarled and roared. This was great,
like coming home. He wrenched the
chrome legs from an upturned chair and began to swing them over his head like
an English quarterstaff. He was going
to take the first head that he saw and knock it for six. “I bet I can at least make the
boundary.” He thought gleefully. “Owzatt!!”
Angel reached him just in
time and caught the end of the chair leg.
That spoiled his fun and he spun round.
The two vampires squared up to one another and the lawyers took their
opportunity and ran. “The Senior
Partners will hear about this, bottom feeder.”
Was the passing shot from the last one out.
“And who said chivalry was
dead?” Cordelia liked someone to fight
for her honour, whoever it was. They
all looked at the wreckage of the bar.
“I thought no demon violence
in Caritas.” Angel was puzzled. Spike with a soul, Spike able to hit humans,
albeit Wolfram and Hart staff, which he doubted counted. This had just thrown up more questions than
answers.
“The Powers That Be have a sick sense of humor.” Muttered the Host. He was going to have to find some PTB proof spells and that was
going to cost. He turned to Spike,
“Okay, you can drop the ‘Robin Hood’ now.
Maid Marion is safe. Take it
home Angel cakes before I do the dance of the pissed bar owner.”