Numb and Number: Chapter Two
Banner by me
Title: Numb and Number
Rating: PG
Warnings: character death
Summary: Three men have to band together when everything around them falls apart. Set practically post-NFA.
Disclaimer: I own none of BTVS or ATS
Comment: Pretty please!
Previous chapters here
“I’m not saying it again, Spike!” Angel snapped. Spike bit his lower lip in an attempt not to hit his grandsire.
“You’re just thinking of your bloody self!” he growled instead. “Wes here is the priority and that shouldn’t include taking him away from all he’s sodding known and away from, from her.”
Angel sighed and leaned against the front counter hardly believing his next words were about to be spoken.
“Look, Spike, I appreciate your trying to help. I know however misguided your motives always are that you want to help. But Wes is my responsibility and I need to take him to the safest place I can think of and that is with the both of us and Buffy to protect him. He can’t take care of himself right now and Wolfram and Hart will be gunning for us here pretty soon. We have to get away and Rome is the best place I can think of.”
“What about Buffy?” Spike asked painfully. Angel sighed again.
“What about her? She doesn’t know you’re alive, now she will. We’ll all have to deal with that. Like you said, this is about Wesley now.”
“Fine,” Spike muttered. “But I’m doing this for F-her. And we make this about Wes! No bickering to death over Buffy or we’re all gonna fall, mate.”
“I agree,” Angel said incredulously, certain his world was falling apart after such an occurrence. “I need to take care of some things first. It’s personal, so don’t even think of asking.”
“Fine, take your personal annual flogging, I’ll be here doing the work,” Spike replied churlishly.
Angel rolled his eyes and left. He pulled a few strings left to him and got Conner a full scholarship to a prestigious school in Rome, one he was certain Conner would not refuse. Because it was summer, it wouldn't interrupt his other schooling and would allow him to come right away. This way he could keep an eye on him and protect him from any possible Wolfram and Hart interference.
Angel rubbed his brow in a vain attempt to stop thinking. How he missed Cordelia at times like this. She would’ve known what to do, she would’ve kept him from internalizing everything, she would’ve kept Spike under control, she would’ve been able to get a response out of Wesley, she would’ve-
He couldn’t keep thinking about it. She wasn’t here and all he had was Spike, irony itself paying them both a call.
After returning to the hotel, they made arrangements and Angel, Spike and Wesley left for Rome, leaving Cordelia, Fred, Gunn and Lorne behind.
***
Spike walked along anxiously, practically hopping in place and yet guiding the incapable-of-walking-on-his-own Wesley. Spike didn’t know how he would react to seeing Buffy again, or more importantly, how she would react to seeing him. Angel strode ahead of them, grim and dark, lost in his own thoughts. He’d called ahead to Buffy and let her know what was going on, minus the Spike parts.
They arrived. Spike stood to the side of the door in the shadows. At Angel’s knocking, Buffy opened the door and as her golden, fruity scent rushed out to meet Spike, a thousand memories, good and bad, came out along with it.
Buffy felt glad to see Angel again and to know they could always count on each other.
“Buffy,” Angel acknowledged.
“Angel, come in,” she said and her voice was like a stab wound in Spike’s heart. Angel gently guided Wesley across the threshold. Buffy’s eyes widened at the sight of her former Watcher. He was not the same man she had last seen. But then her senses picked up on something else and a questioning,
“Angel?” left her lips. Angel tightened his jaw, but stepped outside and dragged Spike into plain view. He stood frozen at the sight of her and awaited her reaction.
Buffy’s mouth dropped open and she breathed out his name.
“Spike.” Her hand reached out as if to touch him but didn’t close the distance between them. Tears stood in her eyes before she shut them tightly and when she opened them again, they were diamonds with daggers poised to throw.
“Get in here,” she said quietly to Spike and then turned to Angel to throw her first one. “Why didn’t you let me know he was alive?”
“Because after the Hellmouth Spike became my responsibility, not yours,” he gritted out.
“That wasn’t your decision to make!” she said, her voice growing louder. “Wasn’t that always the problem, Angel? You can’t make my decisions for me! I had a right to know. You shouldn’t have just decided for me.”
“I decided,” Spike interrupted her. “It was my decision to make and I bloody well made it.” Buffy turned to him and threw her next dagger.
“So why’d you make it, Spike? Did you want to see how much pain you could put me through before you just showed up on my doorstep?”
“No,” he answered.
“Then why?” She slammed the words home into him, as hard as any blow from her fists.
“Because I wasn’t ready,” he said, his own nature coming into play. “As much fun as we’ve had in the past, Buffy, this isn’t about you or me now, or even Steely Brow here,” he jutted his thumb in Angel’s direction. “It’s about him,” and his finger pointed now to Wesley, who, as if to help prove the point, suddenly lurched forward and reached out a hand as if to look for something.
“She’s, she’s-“ he gasped out and then fell to his knees and his stomach tried to release everything Spike and Angel had forced into him. Spike caught him as he fell and Buffy rushed for a bowl and wet cloth. Angel held the bowl for him and Buffy mopped his face while Spike held his head. The three worked over him until he began to quiet down. Then they carried him over to the couch and laid him down in his semi-catatonic state.
“What happened?” Buffy whispered, looking at Wesley in dread. “This is…”
“Not normal,” Angel finished. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” she answered. Angel leaned against the counter and Spike remained standing beside Wesley while Buffy perched on a chair in the middle of the room as Angel related all of the events leading from his taking over Wolfram and Hart to what happened in the alley. Buffy slowly nodded, taking it all in, her gaze wandering to Spike every now and then, but letting Angel finish.
“So we need to figure out what the matter is with him because Wolfram and Hart are going to be looking for us,” Angel ended.
“I called Giles,” Buffy told him. “He’ll come right away and I’m sure he can figure it out.” Angel didn’t look too happy with the idea, but he just nodded and stood up.
“Have you guys just thought about going to a doctor?” Buffy asked.
“No!” Spike and Angel said together then glared at each other.
“Ain’t nothing they could do for him, luv,” Spike told her. “Problem isn’t physical in that sense. If anything, it’s mystical.”
“He’s just grieving,” Angel said softly.
“I’ve grieved for people too,” Buffy rejoined. “But I never went into a catatonic state!” Spike just looked at her. “Except for that one time when I did,” Buffy said quickly. Angel looked away and grumbled under his breath,
“Great, shared catatonia bonding time! Where was I? Facing my own literal inner demons in Pylea.” Shaking his head, Angel made his leave.
“I should probably go find someplace for us to stay and you probably wanna talk.”
“Wesley can stay here,” Buffy told him. “It’d be better. There’s a spare room.”
“Sure,” Angel answered and then he left.
Buffy and Spike sat in silence for awhile, neither one wanting to be the first one to speak. Spike was agitated and soon gave himself up to pacing around the room. Buffy had a million questions she wanted to ask, a million punches she wanted to throw, a million kisses to kiss and a million things she wanted to scream. But she did none of that.
Going up to him, she pulled him slowly to the table and sat him down, kissing his cheek quietly.
“I’m glad you’re back, Spike.”
“I don’t know why I am,” he mumbled, cheek burning from her kiss.
“Is that why you thought you’d just not tell me you were alive?” she asked harshly.
“Sorry about that, pet,” he answered. “But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t believe you and I had to figure out what I am.”
“Don’t you think I could’ve helped?” she replied.
“Do you know who William the Bloody Spike, the souled, ex-ghost, vampire is?” he asked in frustration. “Because I sure the bloody hell don’t! I have no idea why I’m here, Buffy. And it killed me not to go to you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted and what’s worse, you know it. But give me credit for trying to stand on my own two feet for once.”
“Your own two feet,” she said, grasping his hand, “Belong standing right beside mine. Not behind, beside. I don’t know what you’re here for, but I’m glad you are. I meant what I said, Spike. I do love you.” Spike stared at her, the words again ringing through his ears, but this time he offered no rebuttal.
“Thank you,” he said finally.
“Is that it?” she asked in disbelief.
“I love you too,” he answered simply. “Buffy, I love you so much.” He pulled her towards him and she lost herself in the lips of the man she’d once hated with all her being and now loved with all her passion.
“Then that’s all we need to say,” she murmured against his lips. He pulled back and looked into her eyes, his own taking her love and mirroring back a thousand joys.
***
When Angel walked back into the room he could tell there had been a change. Although Spike and Buffy were sitting on opposite sides of the room their scents had somehow merged and he could sense no insecurity in either. It frustrated him to no end, but he repressed the urge to pound Spike and leaned against the counter.
Spike shifted restlessly. He could see the tension flowing through his grandsire and figured it was only fair to let him have his own chat with Buffy.
“Bloody fairness soul-having,” he growled to himself before getting up and taking his leave.
“Figure I’ll get some kip before ole Rupes gets here. Mind showing a fella where he’s bunking, Peaches?”
Angel silently handed him the directions.
“Be back in the morning, love,” Spike told Buffy cheerfully and turned to go.
“Spike.” He turned back.
“I’ll be waiting for you.” Spike slowly smiled and left.
Silence reigned in the room.
“So, I’m guessing you’re done baking,” Angel finally stated. Buffy shifted uncomfortably but answered quietly.
“Yes.” Angel’s fist pounded the table.
“My furniture still breaks as easily as when I didn’t get paid, Angel.”
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Look,” she stammered. “I’m still not the best at making firm emotional decisions or statements, but I…I love Spike. I’m sorry for your losses, but I’m not sorry he’s here.”
“I’m still letting you live your own life, Buffy,” he said. “I’m not here to be soul mates.”
“Then what’s the matter?”
“It’s not fair. I have my soul and I suffer and he just walks away from death as a hero. I’ve done some bad stuff, sure. I’ve killed some people, locked up some lawyers, tried to suffocate my best friend, erased everyone’s memories and took over my enemy’s firm-“ Angel stopped, having forgotten she was in the room.
“Good to know you left me and went on to such heights,” she said dryly.
“It wasn’t anybody’s fault but my own.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad about it,” she answered.
“Well, I just want you to know what you’re getting into,” Angel cut off his moment of openness. “You might want to make sure Dawn and Willow and Xander are protected. Wolfram and Hart goes for the heart.”
“Dawn’s not here. She’s off on a big Key-quest. She didn’t want a sidekick either,” Buffy smiled quietly. “And Xander, he disappeared into Africa after the Hellmouth. Anya’s death hit him pretty hard. Willow’s in England working with Giles. She’ll probably come with him. Point is, I didn’t really have a heart to go for. Until now.”
Angel winced.
“Just so you know.”
“Don’t treat me like a child, Angel. I’m still the Slayer.”
“You’ve never faced true evil, Buffy.”
“Uh, hello? I dated you, didn’t I? And the First Evil ringing any bells? The original evil of all the universe with its army of Uber-vampires?”
“Try total evil law firm. For five years.”
“Okay,” Buffy put up her hands. “Evil lawyers equal big scary. Got it.”
“Trust me on this one,” Angel straightened up. “I’ll go now.”
“Have a good night, Angel.”
“You too, Buffy.” He gave her a ghost of a smile before closing the door behind him leaving Buffy to her thoughts.
***
Spike walked along the street, his entire body reverberating from mixed emotion. Seeing Buffy again, was heaven, was hell. To have her react to his resurrection as she had was nothing short of a miracle to him. But it was far from perfect and he knew now from those few hours they had spent together before Angel came back that relationships were harder than he thought they were.
For so long he’d thought that if he could only get her to admit she loved him they truly would get that crypt for two with a white picket fence. But she was the Slayer and he was…something. Life would never be normal.
Still, to have her, to hold her. He could never contain the joy. After everything that had happened, she still made the sun shine.
And for the sun to shine after the chaos of LA and the grief of Fred’s death-that was miraculous too.
It was funny, but Fred’s death caused Spike to recall the other deaths of girls he’d known, perhaps loved. First and foremost would always be the bitter pain of his mother’s deaths. Both were instigated by the son whom she’d loved and who had loved her. There were thousands of other girls he’d killed over the years, but the two Slayers stood uppermost in his mind. He wondered what the Chinese girl had said to him before she died. He thought about what his mother’s death had done to Robin Wood.
Then came Sunnydale. Joyce had been the first to welcome him and the first to leave. The loss of her motherly smile and compassion was a knife cutter. Her loss was soon followed by that of her daughter’s. Spike didn’t even want to think about that summer after Buffy’s death.
Then the little witch. Her slow smile and quick wit were snuffed out in a moment and she wouldn’t be giving him little bits of encouragement on the side ever again.
So many girls throughout that last year. Spike really could’ve cared less about them, but they did mean something. But Anya, now there was a loss. Spike felt bitterly glad that Xander had felt it. It was about time the git had felt something. The feisty ex-demon had aroused such disdain, empathy and delight in Spike that he hardly knew whether to laugh or cry. But he knew her worth.
Heck, even hearing that Darla was now dead for the fourth and final time had done something to his insides. She was family after all. He didn’t want to know what it would be like if the day ever came when Drusilla was dust floating in the world.
Too many girls. So much grief and pain. All leading up to the last one. Spike had come into Wolfram and Hart with no grudges or evil stereotypes, except those Angel held against him, but that was to be expected. But his people, they knew the moral ambiguity of working for a souled vampire and Spike had done nothing to them to atone for. Sure their loyalty had been to Angel, but he’d been accepted in such a way that had made him wonder why he’d ever stayed in Sunnyhell with the Scoobies. Okay, Buffy. But moving on.
Fred had accepted him right away and the thought that the sweet, genius Texan would never ramble or scrunch up her nose or eat a truckful of tacos after a night of using flamethrowers, made his dead heart ache.
But to add to the pain of Fred’s death was the loss of Wesley. After Fred, Spike was probably closer to him than any of the others. Maybe it was the British connection, but it more likely had something to do with Wesley’s knowledge of Fred’s affection for the vampire that he made the effort to get to know Spike.
What was most likely his best friend (and Spike didn’t have many) in the whole world was lying on a bed, dead for all intent and purpose, completely unresponsive. One thing was for sure, the days ahead would be hard. No matter Buffy.
And Spike was right.