Maybe Someday. Chapter 20.
I know that Saturday night is probably not a very good time for posting fic, but - I finished it!!!!!!!!
::does the Numfar Dance of Joy::
The muse finally decided to pay me a visit, so I've been busy for days now and it paid off! I wrote 'The End' and everything! :D I also did a word count, and the whole thing is 48000 words long! I cannot believe I wrote that much! But then I've been working on it since... January? I can't really remember anymore.
Anyway, thank you so much to all of you lovely people out there who've been reading (and leaving feedback). You have no idea how much I've appreciated it! ::hugs you all::
Also many, many thank you's and choc-chip cookies to my fabulous beta kathyh. Don't know what I'd have done without you! ::smooches::
If anyone needs to catch up - or feels like starting from the beginning - previous chapters can be found here.
So, here it is. I hope you like! :)
Chapter 20
The seconds stretched and stretched as Angel listened intently, now and again nodding. After a while he looked up, seeking out Spike.
“Connor is fighting some demons, but they refuse to die. Large and green skinned, with what look like oversized ram-horns on their heads. Don’t speak English.”
Buffy and Spike looked at each other across the square, then said in unison. “Fyarl?”
“They can only be killed by silver,” Spike explained.
“Could be....” Angel said, then looked at Buffy. “Tell me you have a silver knife in that bag of yours.”
“I should have a couple...” she said and he nodded absentmindedly. “Good. Go get them.”
Putting the phone back to his ear he spoke to the mysterious Connor again. “We’ll be there in just a moment - I’ll explain how later. Where exactly are you?”
As she ran off to fetch her bag, she could hear Angel instructing Illyria as to where she should open a portal. Apparently they were going to one of the larger parks in LA.
By the time she had had picked up the bag and turned around, the portal was hanging in the air. Angel must already have gone through and she saw Spike waving at her before disappearing.
“Someone better explain what’s going on - soon,” she muttered to herself as she ran back to Illyria. Who was Connor?
She pulled out the two silver knives from the bag, before she slung it over her shoulder. Then she jumped through the portal.
And nearly bumped into Spike and Angel.
Considering how desperate they had been to leave, they were not doing much to justify their haste. They were standing side by side, arms crossed, staring at a youth fighting 6 Fyarl demons single-handedly with what looked like a piece of iron fence. Most were injured, but still the odds appeared overwhelming. As she watched, Buffy marvelled at the boy’s skills - he fought as well as a Slayer and looked around the same age as her eldest ones, but since there were no male Slayers, she wondered what he could be. A vampire perhaps?
Then Angel spoke, an odd note of pride in his voice as he leaned towards Spike: “You know in Quortoth he was called ‘The Destroyer’!”
Spike shot him a look. “You might have mentioned that a few times,” he replied dryly.
Then Angel turned and saw her. “Buffy - you’re here! Excellent.”
Swiping the knives from her hand he ran off, calling to the boy. “Connor! Catch.”
He tossed the kid a knife and Buffy saw Connor turn around, a delighted smile breaking out on his face. “Dad! How did you get here so fast? I thought you were in Europe.”
“Fight first, then talk son,” Angel replied and a second later the two of them were back to back, swiftly taking out the demons.
Buffy stared open-mouthed. This was it - she’d finally gone insane. She’d wake up any moment in some lunatic asylum. Or maybe it wasn’t really Angel but a clever copy of some sort? Because Angel NEVER ignored her. Ever. And yet here she was, being treated as nothing more than a weapons cabinet, while he’d run off to fight with that Connor-boy. Who’d called him ‘dad’. Must be a vampire then, only why would Angel be so concerned? And why ‘dad’ rather than ‘sire’? She turned to Spike, who was watching the fight with amusement. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked at her. “Better to just let them get on with it.”
“But...” she looked from Spike back to the fight, just as Connor killed the last Fyarl. Angel was watching, the grin on his face wider than Buffy could ever remember seeing before.
Handing back the knife, Connor grinned back, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry about calling, but I couldn’t think what else to do. I don’t really know a lot of people with demon knowledge... and I’d never come across this species before.”
“No worries son,” Angel replied. “As it happens Illyria can now open portals again, so I’ll be able to keep in touch a bit better.” He looked around. “She seems to have disappeared though...” A beat, then he shrugged. “Never mind. There’s someone else I’d like you to meet.”
As Angel and Connor walked across the grass, they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. Spike beside her stiffened too, and all three heads turned in unison, obviously trying to hear better. Buffy pulled a face. Why didn’t Slayer-powers include super-hearing?
Angel and Spike glanced at each other. Then Angel turned to Connor. “Someone’s coming - Wolfram & Hart employees if I’m not mistaken. Hide! I don’t want you mixed up in this.”
Connor shot him a look, but nodded. “OK. But you better explain afterwards.”
“Don’t worry,” Angel answered, that smile back on his face. He glanced at Buffy: “You hide too - this is not your fight. Oh - and if you’ve got a crossbow could you lend it to Spike?”
She nodded mutely and handed the bag to Spike, who swiftly grabbed the bow. He gave the bag back to her and then took her hands before looking her in the eyes. “Buffy... don’t be too upset about what happened before. Angel’s like you - he cuts himself off so he can do his job.”
Then he kissed her softly and disappeared.
Sighing deeply she followed Connor who had vanished behind some tall bushes. Spike defending Angel? The insanity-theory began to look very good.
As she sat down on the ground, resting her back against a tree, she saw Connor peering out, trying to see where Angel and Spike had gone. He looked over his shoulder. “Never liked hiding. But I suppose that my presence would be hard to explain.”
She smiled back politely and he suddenly shook his head. “Sorry - I’m being really rude, aren’t I?”
He held out his hand. “I’m Connor, Angel’s son.”
She took his hand automatically, and with a shock realised that it was warm. Her eyes widened as she looked at the kid properly. He was human. No demon senses buzzing anywhere no matter how hard she tried.
Angel had a human son? But...
*******
The park was dark and deathly quiet, and Jessica Roberts couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. She knew that the plan was foolproof - at least 99.99% so - but still... of course when she mentioned this to Jefferson he laughed and asked if she was on her period. She smiled stiffly and shook her head. He was such an unpleasant, lewd guy, not to mention that he looked like a toad, but he was one of the best paralegals around and she should be grateful that she’d managed to get into his department. At least Wolfram & Hart wasn’t one of those companies where you had to sleep your way to the top. Scheming and murdering was so much more fun anyway... hopefully one day she’d be able to do a Lilah Morgan and watch Jefferson’s flat and repellent little head roll across a table...
She chuckled to herself and Jefferson slapped her on the back. “That’s the attitude, Jess! No more of that female intuition crap, OK? Mr Simmons phoned less than 15 minutes ago saying that everything is ready. And as long as our esteemed friend here can pull off the big mojo, we’ll be heading for happy land in no time. Wish I’d brought a cigar!”
He grinned and Jessica closed her eyes briefly. Trying to take her mind off her odious companion, she looked ahead to where the freaky shaman appeared to be floating across the grass. She was slightly surprised that none of the demons they’d hired had shown up yet. Considering that they’d been employed for their strength and dim-wittedness, she almost expected them to get something wrong. But when she looked ahead she could see the pyre waiting to be lit. The demons must have gone to fetch the sacrifices.
Suddenly something large and black jumped out of the trees in front of them. It hit the shaman square in the chest and he crumpled into a heap on the ground. Jessica almost cried out loud. In front of them stood Angel. Angel who she knew was trapped in Rome by a wall of magic. It was quite simply not possible for him to be here!
The vampire smiled at them, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Jefferson! And Miss Roberts. What could the two of you be doing here tonight? With a very powerful shaman? Feel like telling me?”
Jefferson, displaying more backbone and stupidity than Jessica would have thought him capable of, answered. “Don’t be so cocky now Mr Angel - we’ve got your number-”
Angel’s smile became even wider, his voice like honey. Jessica swallowed. She’d never had much to do with him, back when he was boss, but she’d heard tales of how he was always most dangerous when he was friendly.
“I would be very careful with what I say, Jefferson. Spike is standing behind you with a loaded crossbow. And I think that a wooden dart will kill a human just as well as it will a vampire.”
Jessica turned her head at the same time as Jefferson, and saw Spike standing about 20 yards behind them, the crossbow raised. “Hello!” he waved, grinning, and then swung the bow from one to the other, silently mouthing ‘Eeny, meeny, miny, mo...”
Looking back to Angel, the two lawyers knew that something had gone terribly wrong somewhere and Jessica cursed her stupid intuition and the fact that she’d ignored it.
Face suddenly serious Angel spoke again. “Now I just had the pleasure of killing half a dozen Fyarl demons - and I couldn’t help noticing the large pyre over there. So what’s going on?”
Noticing that Jefferson was now sweating profusely and might just faint at any moment, Jessica decided that she’d better do something before the vampires got impatient.
“We came here to witness and supervise a spell to bring you back to us, Mr. Angel,” she answered, noticing with delight how calm her voice was. “We have been quite bereft without you.”
“So you were what - going to teleport me across the ocean?” Angel asked, a look of quiet curiosity on his face.
“Oh no! We were going to take your free will - the Senior Partners are very fond of puppets.”
She had often found that straightforward honesty was the best way to go - and she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.
Angel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m getting a strange feeling of deja-vu. There were some mysterious ninja robots who tried to do the same thing last year, using the Staff of Devosynn. Don’t tell me that someone was so careless as to lose it...”
“Oh no. But Mr Simmons deemed it too risky. Knowing your history someone was likely to find the staff and break it sooner or later. This spell was to have been permanent.”
Angel nodded slowly. “Smart. Mr Simmons was obviously a clever guy.”
“Was?” Jefferson asked, shocked.
Angel grinned unpleasantly. “He might have insulted Illyria - she’s rather tetchy these days.”
Jessica closed her eyes. Half of her terrified, the other half busy trying to work out if this meant that she could possibly get a promotion out of this...
*******
By the time Angel and Spike reappeared, Buffy and Connor were deep in discussion over memory-altering spells. She was utterly fascinated by the strange parallels between his story and Dawn’s and had already decided that she had to arrange for them to meet somehow - he seemed like a really solid guy. There was also a very small part of her that muttered that even if she couldn’t have Angel, maybe Dawn could get his son - a strange, rather bizarre sort of retaliation, years after she had got over him - but damn! Why not?
“Oh - you’re back,” she said rather superfluously and got up, stretching her legs to get some feeling back. “So - what did you find out?”
As Angel explained, she began to feel increasingly freaked out. Wolfram & Hart wanted to take his free will so they could control him? Even going as far as using human sacrifices... homeless people from what Angel said. People that no one would miss. The calculated coldness of the whole thing made her uncomfortable. But Angel had let the lawyers go as well as those that would have been sacrificed.
She looked at Spike, but he avoided her eyes, busying himself with a cigarette. What was it about souled vampires that made everyone want to turn them into puppets? Recalling far too vividly the problems that had come from The First’s control of Spike, she hugged herself tightly, suddenly feeling chilly.
When all the expounding had finished, she asked. “So what now?”
“Now we leave,” Angel said. “Suppose we have to go to the desert first, but then we’ll probably start jumping between dimensions. I could really have done without this.”
She nodded, then looked around. “Um - where did Illyria go to?”
Spike and Angel shot each other a glance, then sighed. “This way,” Angel said, and they all set off, Buffy and Connor rather puzzled.
As they walked, Spike turned to Connor and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you properly, kid. Not really sure what sort of relations we are to each other though. I think we’re each other’s great-uncle or something.”
Connor shook his hand and chuckled. “Yeah - it’s a bit confusing.”
Spike looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Got your mother’s eyes - not sure if she’d be proud of you, though, or slap you for helping the good guys.”
Buffy listened to the conversation in silence. There was so much history when it came to Spike and Angel... and Darla and Dru. And she began to wonder what was so special about herself that had made both vampires ready to kill their former mates for her sake. And why did everything in her life always end up in violence?
A while later they arrived at what Spike told her was the Hyperion hotel. In the garden in front of the hotel they found the hellgod, her slim little figure dwarfed by the large building.
She was standing in front of two large stone monuments, one crowned with bones to which bits of fabric were still clinging. When Buffy got closer she read the inscriptions and recalled what Spike had told her about them.
Illyria was still utterly immobile, and Buffy studied the god, wondering what went on behind those motionless features. She had killed a man with her bare hands tonight, for nothing more than an insult, and yet she had somehow erected these monuments to two men - one of whom Buffy knew had been deeply flawed. It wasn’t easy to say if this being was good or bad... and who was Buffy anyway to try to judge? Considering the things she had done herself - and the way she had so very purposefully not pried into what exactly it was that The Immortal did...
Tiredly rubbing her eyes she looked over at where Spike and Angel were standing - two inky silhouettes in the darkness of the overgrown garden. Both of them had challenged her world-view and accepted beliefs. Had caused her more happiness and grief than she had thought possible. As she started thinking about the two of them, she frowned. Because she was suddenly hit with the realisation that if it had been Spike who’d yelled at Illyria - Spike who had started carving in Mr Simmons’ chest she wouldn’t have been nearly as shocked. Angry and disappointed certainly - telling him that he was gross and disgusting and what he was doing was wrong, but...
Then Angel spoke to Connor, breaking her train of thought: “Why are you in LA?
“Oh - I only came to see some friends last week, but then I decided to stay a few days longer...”
Spike silently left Angel’s side and beckoned Buffy to follow him. Taking her hand, he led her to the empty hotel. It was dark inside and the light from the windows was dim. She looked at him and was suddenly transported back to another empty building... the way the faint light picked out his cheekbones and the blue in his eyes. The way she could feel her heart suddenly beating wildly...
He reached out and softly touched her face. “Can’t wreck this building I’m afraid,” he said, smiling wistfully.
“Yeah I know,” she sighed and then sat down on the round sofa in the middle of the reception. She fiddled with the fraying edge of her right sleeve before looking up. “Spike... what is it that you and Angel do? Why is he so... so much like Angelus?”
Spike grimaced, obviously uncomfortable, but she knew that he wouldn’t try to fudge the issue and braced herself for what might come. He looked at her silently before sitting down next to her, taking a deep breath before he started talking.
“When Angel took over LA’s Wolfram & Hart it was probably the most stupid thing he’s ever done. I understand why now - if I had a kid I’d probably sell my soul to save it too. Hell, I’d sell it for you or Dawn if I had to. But, what matters is that he signed that piece of paper and ended up with his back against the wall with nowhere to go. I watched him all that year, trying to live with a compromise. And it tore him apart. In the end he did the one thing he was able to - he left that corner by the only way that he could. Which wasn’t pretty.”
Spike stopped briefly, then shot her a glance. “Remember when you thought you’d come back wrong? That you’d lost some of your humanity? Angel left his behind deliberately. Wolfram & Hart will stop at nothing to achieve their ends. But now there’s a good guy doing the same. He’s not in it for any kind of reward - he’s in it for vengeance. And for Connor. And... he does what he does so I don’t have to.”
Silence fell and Buffy studied Spike’s profile. She had it on film now - picture upon picture of Spike and a good few of Angel too. What was it with the two of them? He does what he does so I don’t have to... She thought that she knew what he meant, but there was something about the way he had said it, something that she couldn’t put her finger on. Part of her wanted to ask - but there was another part that told her to back off. That she might not like the answer... his face suddenly seemed very closed, and she had the distinct impression that it was too private a matter. So instead she asked different question:
“What did you mean when you said Angel was like me?”
Spike smiled. “He is. You ran away after you had to kill him because life was too painful - he spent a hundred years running away from the pain of the soul. And you both fight best with your back against the wall - if you sit down and think about stuff you just get all depressed.”
He stopped and stared ahead. “But more than anything it’s all about the mission for you two. See this is where Angel is so different from Angelus - Angelus never had much in the way of ambitions - lived from obsession to obsession, refining his art. The whole business with Acathla was the closest he ever came to having Angel’s drive... but why am I talking about Angel?”
She shook her head. “I think I asked... lets just jump straight to the kissing, shall we?”
He chuckled as she straddled him, but then he stopped and studied her, face serious and melancholic. “Y’know I always thought that just getting a chance with you would be enough. That time I tied you up and begged for a crumb? I never thought further. And now I’ve actually got you and still there’s no happy ending. I’m just hoping that by some bloody miracle it’ll all work out one day... .”
She had no words to offer, no platitudes, so instead she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Was it only a week since she had first seen him again? It felt like so much longer. So much upheaval, so many highs and lows... and oh so many kisses. Why was it that kissing him was so different from anyone else? None of her boyfriends had been bad kissers - as a matter of fact they’d all been very good. As they pulled apart briefly she looked at him, and she knew that he was all hers. He’d always given her his all - he never held back. As their lips met again she thought that maybe this was why his kisses were so different. As was everything else... she could still hear his voice after their first night together - “It was a bloody revelation!”
The amazing thing though was that it never stopped being a revelation - every kiss as exciting as the first one, every touch significant...
But their farewell was cut woefully short when the door slammed open and Illyria strode in.
“Angel deems that it is time to leave now. There is much for us to do. The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart will learn to fear my name again - their stolen power will be shattered and broken, their followers reduced to dust. Make haste vampire!”
She turned and walked out, leaving the couple to stare at each other, Buffy rather bemused. “Is she always like that?”
“Pretty much,” Spike replied. “But apparently she used to know the Senior Partners back in the old days, so she sort of takes the whole thing personally since they tried to kill her.”
He shrugged and pulled her in for a last embrace, whispering endearments in her ear as he held her so tightly that she could barely breathe. But after one last kiss they got up, Buffy half-angrily wiping her eyes before taking his hand.
“We’re like a bad romance novel. I should really be going before I start swooning and you have to gather me to your manly chest.”
“But you’re so pretty when you swoon,” he laughed and sent her a look full of suggestions and memories. Then he pushed open the door.
As Illyria opened a portal to London for her, Buffy recalled a thought she’d had a few days ago and, throwing the bag over her shoulder, shot Spike one last look: “So what do I have to do to get you to come ice skating with me?”
Spike’s face looked as though she had just slapped it with a wet fish - astonishment too mild a word.
And with a smile on her face, Buffy jumped through the portal onto the street behind the Council’s main building. Maybe someday it would indeed all work out...
The End
(Continued in this Christmas FitB: Not Quite a Christmas Carol.)
::does the Numfar Dance of Joy::
The muse finally decided to pay me a visit, so I've been busy for days now and it paid off! I wrote 'The End' and everything! :D I also did a word count, and the whole thing is 48000 words long! I cannot believe I wrote that much! But then I've been working on it since... January? I can't really remember anymore.
Anyway, thank you so much to all of you lovely people out there who've been reading (and leaving feedback). You have no idea how much I've appreciated it! ::hugs you all::
Also many, many thank you's and choc-chip cookies to my fabulous beta kathyh. Don't know what I'd have done without you! ::smooches::
If anyone needs to catch up - or feels like starting from the beginning - previous chapters can be found here.
So, here it is. I hope you like! :)
Chapter 20
The seconds stretched and stretched as Angel listened intently, now and again nodding. After a while he looked up, seeking out Spike.
“Connor is fighting some demons, but they refuse to die. Large and green skinned, with what look like oversized ram-horns on their heads. Don’t speak English.”
Buffy and Spike looked at each other across the square, then said in unison. “Fyarl?”
“They can only be killed by silver,” Spike explained.
“Could be....” Angel said, then looked at Buffy. “Tell me you have a silver knife in that bag of yours.”
“I should have a couple...” she said and he nodded absentmindedly. “Good. Go get them.”
Putting the phone back to his ear he spoke to the mysterious Connor again. “We’ll be there in just a moment - I’ll explain how later. Where exactly are you?”
As she ran off to fetch her bag, she could hear Angel instructing Illyria as to where she should open a portal. Apparently they were going to one of the larger parks in LA.
By the time she had had picked up the bag and turned around, the portal was hanging in the air. Angel must already have gone through and she saw Spike waving at her before disappearing.
“Someone better explain what’s going on - soon,” she muttered to herself as she ran back to Illyria. Who was Connor?
She pulled out the two silver knives from the bag, before she slung it over her shoulder. Then she jumped through the portal.
And nearly bumped into Spike and Angel.
Considering how desperate they had been to leave, they were not doing much to justify their haste. They were standing side by side, arms crossed, staring at a youth fighting 6 Fyarl demons single-handedly with what looked like a piece of iron fence. Most were injured, but still the odds appeared overwhelming. As she watched, Buffy marvelled at the boy’s skills - he fought as well as a Slayer and looked around the same age as her eldest ones, but since there were no male Slayers, she wondered what he could be. A vampire perhaps?
Then Angel spoke, an odd note of pride in his voice as he leaned towards Spike: “You know in Quortoth he was called ‘The Destroyer’!”
Spike shot him a look. “You might have mentioned that a few times,” he replied dryly.
Then Angel turned and saw her. “Buffy - you’re here! Excellent.”
Swiping the knives from her hand he ran off, calling to the boy. “Connor! Catch.”
He tossed the kid a knife and Buffy saw Connor turn around, a delighted smile breaking out on his face. “Dad! How did you get here so fast? I thought you were in Europe.”
“Fight first, then talk son,” Angel replied and a second later the two of them were back to back, swiftly taking out the demons.
Buffy stared open-mouthed. This was it - she’d finally gone insane. She’d wake up any moment in some lunatic asylum. Or maybe it wasn’t really Angel but a clever copy of some sort? Because Angel NEVER ignored her. Ever. And yet here she was, being treated as nothing more than a weapons cabinet, while he’d run off to fight with that Connor-boy. Who’d called him ‘dad’. Must be a vampire then, only why would Angel be so concerned? And why ‘dad’ rather than ‘sire’? She turned to Spike, who was watching the fight with amusement. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked at her. “Better to just let them get on with it.”
“But...” she looked from Spike back to the fight, just as Connor killed the last Fyarl. Angel was watching, the grin on his face wider than Buffy could ever remember seeing before.
Handing back the knife, Connor grinned back, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry about calling, but I couldn’t think what else to do. I don’t really know a lot of people with demon knowledge... and I’d never come across this species before.”
“No worries son,” Angel replied. “As it happens Illyria can now open portals again, so I’ll be able to keep in touch a bit better.” He looked around. “She seems to have disappeared though...” A beat, then he shrugged. “Never mind. There’s someone else I’d like you to meet.”
As Angel and Connor walked across the grass, they suddenly stopped dead in their tracks. Spike beside her stiffened too, and all three heads turned in unison, obviously trying to hear better. Buffy pulled a face. Why didn’t Slayer-powers include super-hearing?
Angel and Spike glanced at each other. Then Angel turned to Connor. “Someone’s coming - Wolfram & Hart employees if I’m not mistaken. Hide! I don’t want you mixed up in this.”
Connor shot him a look, but nodded. “OK. But you better explain afterwards.”
“Don’t worry,” Angel answered, that smile back on his face. He glanced at Buffy: “You hide too - this is not your fight. Oh - and if you’ve got a crossbow could you lend it to Spike?”
She nodded mutely and handed the bag to Spike, who swiftly grabbed the bow. He gave the bag back to her and then took her hands before looking her in the eyes. “Buffy... don’t be too upset about what happened before. Angel’s like you - he cuts himself off so he can do his job.”
Then he kissed her softly and disappeared.
Sighing deeply she followed Connor who had vanished behind some tall bushes. Spike defending Angel? The insanity-theory began to look very good.
As she sat down on the ground, resting her back against a tree, she saw Connor peering out, trying to see where Angel and Spike had gone. He looked over his shoulder. “Never liked hiding. But I suppose that my presence would be hard to explain.”
She smiled back politely and he suddenly shook his head. “Sorry - I’m being really rude, aren’t I?”
He held out his hand. “I’m Connor, Angel’s son.”
She took his hand automatically, and with a shock realised that it was warm. Her eyes widened as she looked at the kid properly. He was human. No demon senses buzzing anywhere no matter how hard she tried.
Angel had a human son? But...
*******
The park was dark and deathly quiet, and Jessica Roberts couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. She knew that the plan was foolproof - at least 99.99% so - but still... of course when she mentioned this to Jefferson he laughed and asked if she was on her period. She smiled stiffly and shook her head. He was such an unpleasant, lewd guy, not to mention that he looked like a toad, but he was one of the best paralegals around and she should be grateful that she’d managed to get into his department. At least Wolfram & Hart wasn’t one of those companies where you had to sleep your way to the top. Scheming and murdering was so much more fun anyway... hopefully one day she’d be able to do a Lilah Morgan and watch Jefferson’s flat and repellent little head roll across a table...
She chuckled to herself and Jefferson slapped her on the back. “That’s the attitude, Jess! No more of that female intuition crap, OK? Mr Simmons phoned less than 15 minutes ago saying that everything is ready. And as long as our esteemed friend here can pull off the big mojo, we’ll be heading for happy land in no time. Wish I’d brought a cigar!”
He grinned and Jessica closed her eyes briefly. Trying to take her mind off her odious companion, she looked ahead to where the freaky shaman appeared to be floating across the grass. She was slightly surprised that none of the demons they’d hired had shown up yet. Considering that they’d been employed for their strength and dim-wittedness, she almost expected them to get something wrong. But when she looked ahead she could see the pyre waiting to be lit. The demons must have gone to fetch the sacrifices.
Suddenly something large and black jumped out of the trees in front of them. It hit the shaman square in the chest and he crumpled into a heap on the ground. Jessica almost cried out loud. In front of them stood Angel. Angel who she knew was trapped in Rome by a wall of magic. It was quite simply not possible for him to be here!
The vampire smiled at them, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “Jefferson! And Miss Roberts. What could the two of you be doing here tonight? With a very powerful shaman? Feel like telling me?”
Jefferson, displaying more backbone and stupidity than Jessica would have thought him capable of, answered. “Don’t be so cocky now Mr Angel - we’ve got your number-”
Angel’s smile became even wider, his voice like honey. Jessica swallowed. She’d never had much to do with him, back when he was boss, but she’d heard tales of how he was always most dangerous when he was friendly.
“I would be very careful with what I say, Jefferson. Spike is standing behind you with a loaded crossbow. And I think that a wooden dart will kill a human just as well as it will a vampire.”
Jessica turned her head at the same time as Jefferson, and saw Spike standing about 20 yards behind them, the crossbow raised. “Hello!” he waved, grinning, and then swung the bow from one to the other, silently mouthing ‘Eeny, meeny, miny, mo...”
Looking back to Angel, the two lawyers knew that something had gone terribly wrong somewhere and Jessica cursed her stupid intuition and the fact that she’d ignored it.
Face suddenly serious Angel spoke again. “Now I just had the pleasure of killing half a dozen Fyarl demons - and I couldn’t help noticing the large pyre over there. So what’s going on?”
Noticing that Jefferson was now sweating profusely and might just faint at any moment, Jessica decided that she’d better do something before the vampires got impatient.
“We came here to witness and supervise a spell to bring you back to us, Mr. Angel,” she answered, noticing with delight how calm her voice was. “We have been quite bereft without you.”
“So you were what - going to teleport me across the ocean?” Angel asked, a look of quiet curiosity on his face.
“Oh no! We were going to take your free will - the Senior Partners are very fond of puppets.”
She had often found that straightforward honesty was the best way to go - and she might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.
Angel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m getting a strange feeling of deja-vu. There were some mysterious ninja robots who tried to do the same thing last year, using the Staff of Devosynn. Don’t tell me that someone was so careless as to lose it...”
“Oh no. But Mr Simmons deemed it too risky. Knowing your history someone was likely to find the staff and break it sooner or later. This spell was to have been permanent.”
Angel nodded slowly. “Smart. Mr Simmons was obviously a clever guy.”
“Was?” Jefferson asked, shocked.
Angel grinned unpleasantly. “He might have insulted Illyria - she’s rather tetchy these days.”
Jessica closed her eyes. Half of her terrified, the other half busy trying to work out if this meant that she could possibly get a promotion out of this...
*******
By the time Angel and Spike reappeared, Buffy and Connor were deep in discussion over memory-altering spells. She was utterly fascinated by the strange parallels between his story and Dawn’s and had already decided that she had to arrange for them to meet somehow - he seemed like a really solid guy. There was also a very small part of her that muttered that even if she couldn’t have Angel, maybe Dawn could get his son - a strange, rather bizarre sort of retaliation, years after she had got over him - but damn! Why not?
“Oh - you’re back,” she said rather superfluously and got up, stretching her legs to get some feeling back. “So - what did you find out?”
As Angel explained, she began to feel increasingly freaked out. Wolfram & Hart wanted to take his free will so they could control him? Even going as far as using human sacrifices... homeless people from what Angel said. People that no one would miss. The calculated coldness of the whole thing made her uncomfortable. But Angel had let the lawyers go as well as those that would have been sacrificed.
She looked at Spike, but he avoided her eyes, busying himself with a cigarette. What was it about souled vampires that made everyone want to turn them into puppets? Recalling far too vividly the problems that had come from The First’s control of Spike, she hugged herself tightly, suddenly feeling chilly.
When all the expounding had finished, she asked. “So what now?”
“Now we leave,” Angel said. “Suppose we have to go to the desert first, but then we’ll probably start jumping between dimensions. I could really have done without this.”
She nodded, then looked around. “Um - where did Illyria go to?”
Spike and Angel shot each other a glance, then sighed. “This way,” Angel said, and they all set off, Buffy and Connor rather puzzled.
As they walked, Spike turned to Connor and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you properly, kid. Not really sure what sort of relations we are to each other though. I think we’re each other’s great-uncle or something.”
Connor shook his hand and chuckled. “Yeah - it’s a bit confusing.”
Spike looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Got your mother’s eyes - not sure if she’d be proud of you, though, or slap you for helping the good guys.”
Buffy listened to the conversation in silence. There was so much history when it came to Spike and Angel... and Darla and Dru. And she began to wonder what was so special about herself that had made both vampires ready to kill their former mates for her sake. And why did everything in her life always end up in violence?
A while later they arrived at what Spike told her was the Hyperion hotel. In the garden in front of the hotel they found the hellgod, her slim little figure dwarfed by the large building.
She was standing in front of two large stone monuments, one crowned with bones to which bits of fabric were still clinging. When Buffy got closer she read the inscriptions and recalled what Spike had told her about them.
Illyria was still utterly immobile, and Buffy studied the god, wondering what went on behind those motionless features. She had killed a man with her bare hands tonight, for nothing more than an insult, and yet she had somehow erected these monuments to two men - one of whom Buffy knew had been deeply flawed. It wasn’t easy to say if this being was good or bad... and who was Buffy anyway to try to judge? Considering the things she had done herself - and the way she had so very purposefully not pried into what exactly it was that The Immortal did...
Tiredly rubbing her eyes she looked over at where Spike and Angel were standing - two inky silhouettes in the darkness of the overgrown garden. Both of them had challenged her world-view and accepted beliefs. Had caused her more happiness and grief than she had thought possible. As she started thinking about the two of them, she frowned. Because she was suddenly hit with the realisation that if it had been Spike who’d yelled at Illyria - Spike who had started carving in Mr Simmons’ chest she wouldn’t have been nearly as shocked. Angry and disappointed certainly - telling him that he was gross and disgusting and what he was doing was wrong, but...
Then Angel spoke to Connor, breaking her train of thought: “Why are you in LA?
“Oh - I only came to see some friends last week, but then I decided to stay a few days longer...”
Spike silently left Angel’s side and beckoned Buffy to follow him. Taking her hand, he led her to the empty hotel. It was dark inside and the light from the windows was dim. She looked at him and was suddenly transported back to another empty building... the way the faint light picked out his cheekbones and the blue in his eyes. The way she could feel her heart suddenly beating wildly...
He reached out and softly touched her face. “Can’t wreck this building I’m afraid,” he said, smiling wistfully.
“Yeah I know,” she sighed and then sat down on the round sofa in the middle of the reception. She fiddled with the fraying edge of her right sleeve before looking up. “Spike... what is it that you and Angel do? Why is he so... so much like Angelus?”
Spike grimaced, obviously uncomfortable, but she knew that he wouldn’t try to fudge the issue and braced herself for what might come. He looked at her silently before sitting down next to her, taking a deep breath before he started talking.
“When Angel took over LA’s Wolfram & Hart it was probably the most stupid thing he’s ever done. I understand why now - if I had a kid I’d probably sell my soul to save it too. Hell, I’d sell it for you or Dawn if I had to. But, what matters is that he signed that piece of paper and ended up with his back against the wall with nowhere to go. I watched him all that year, trying to live with a compromise. And it tore him apart. In the end he did the one thing he was able to - he left that corner by the only way that he could. Which wasn’t pretty.”
Spike stopped briefly, then shot her a glance. “Remember when you thought you’d come back wrong? That you’d lost some of your humanity? Angel left his behind deliberately. Wolfram & Hart will stop at nothing to achieve their ends. But now there’s a good guy doing the same. He’s not in it for any kind of reward - he’s in it for vengeance. And for Connor. And... he does what he does so I don’t have to.”
Silence fell and Buffy studied Spike’s profile. She had it on film now - picture upon picture of Spike and a good few of Angel too. What was it with the two of them? He does what he does so I don’t have to... She thought that she knew what he meant, but there was something about the way he had said it, something that she couldn’t put her finger on. Part of her wanted to ask - but there was another part that told her to back off. That she might not like the answer... his face suddenly seemed very closed, and she had the distinct impression that it was too private a matter. So instead she asked different question:
“What did you mean when you said Angel was like me?”
Spike smiled. “He is. You ran away after you had to kill him because life was too painful - he spent a hundred years running away from the pain of the soul. And you both fight best with your back against the wall - if you sit down and think about stuff you just get all depressed.”
He stopped and stared ahead. “But more than anything it’s all about the mission for you two. See this is where Angel is so different from Angelus - Angelus never had much in the way of ambitions - lived from obsession to obsession, refining his art. The whole business with Acathla was the closest he ever came to having Angel’s drive... but why am I talking about Angel?”
She shook her head. “I think I asked... lets just jump straight to the kissing, shall we?”
He chuckled as she straddled him, but then he stopped and studied her, face serious and melancholic. “Y’know I always thought that just getting a chance with you would be enough. That time I tied you up and begged for a crumb? I never thought further. And now I’ve actually got you and still there’s no happy ending. I’m just hoping that by some bloody miracle it’ll all work out one day... .”
She had no words to offer, no platitudes, so instead she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. Was it only a week since she had first seen him again? It felt like so much longer. So much upheaval, so many highs and lows... and oh so many kisses. Why was it that kissing him was so different from anyone else? None of her boyfriends had been bad kissers - as a matter of fact they’d all been very good. As they pulled apart briefly she looked at him, and she knew that he was all hers. He’d always given her his all - he never held back. As their lips met again she thought that maybe this was why his kisses were so different. As was everything else... she could still hear his voice after their first night together - “It was a bloody revelation!”
The amazing thing though was that it never stopped being a revelation - every kiss as exciting as the first one, every touch significant...
But their farewell was cut woefully short when the door slammed open and Illyria strode in.
“Angel deems that it is time to leave now. There is much for us to do. The Wolf, the Ram and the Hart will learn to fear my name again - their stolen power will be shattered and broken, their followers reduced to dust. Make haste vampire!”
She turned and walked out, leaving the couple to stare at each other, Buffy rather bemused. “Is she always like that?”
“Pretty much,” Spike replied. “But apparently she used to know the Senior Partners back in the old days, so she sort of takes the whole thing personally since they tried to kill her.”
He shrugged and pulled her in for a last embrace, whispering endearments in her ear as he held her so tightly that she could barely breathe. But after one last kiss they got up, Buffy half-angrily wiping her eyes before taking his hand.
“We’re like a bad romance novel. I should really be going before I start swooning and you have to gather me to your manly chest.”
“But you’re so pretty when you swoon,” he laughed and sent her a look full of suggestions and memories. Then he pushed open the door.
As Illyria opened a portal to London for her, Buffy recalled a thought she’d had a few days ago and, throwing the bag over her shoulder, shot Spike one last look: “So what do I have to do to get you to come ice skating with me?”
Spike’s face looked as though she had just slapped it with a wet fish - astonishment too mild a word.
And with a smile on her face, Buffy jumped through the portal onto the street behind the Council’s main building. Maybe someday it would indeed all work out...
The End
(Continued in this Christmas FitB: Not Quite a Christmas Carol.)