Numb and Number: Chapter Six
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 gotta get out there,” Spike said restlessly. “I’m useless here.” Willow glanced up from the book she was feverishly working on.
“What?”
“I can’t stand sitting here like a twat,” he replied testily. “Buffy gets to go out there with Slinky Brows while I sit here doing bollocks.”
“She’s doing the same thing you are if I know her at all,” Willow told him. He smiled.
“Perhaps.” Willow returned to her book and became entirely engrossed in furiously copying notes. Spike stood up and got some blood from the kitchen before going into where Oz was keeping watch on Wesley.
“How’s he doing?”
“The same.” Oz took a look at Spike’s face and the tight, worried expression it always wore when he looked at Wesley.
“He’ll wake up. There’s a strength he seems to have conjured up since last time we met.”
“You’re not quite the same fountain of cool either now, are you?” Spike observed.
“Cool.” Oz’s voice was amused and light. “Always the same word. Cool’s been tainted with rage.”
“I’m sorry,” Spike turned to him.
“And why?” Oz turned to face him as well.
“Because I saw you kids and you were happy, but you chose to fight things like me. You grew up too bloody fast-even him,” Spike gestured over his shoulder at Wesley. “He was blissfully prissy afore he came over the pond.” They were silent for a moment before Spike added, “I think he was glad to get away from his ponce of a dad though.”
“You bet I bloody well was,” came the weakest voice Spike had ever heard and that included Drusilla when she was sick and/or pouting.
“Wes?” Spike questioned as he turned to face the sick man. Wesley’s eyes were open, though barely.
“I think I want to get up now,” he said as Spike strained to hear.
“Not that I’m not gonna start dancing from joy, mate, but are you sure you’re ready?”
“I have to stop h-this.” Wesley struggled to rise but was unable to manage it. He stopped and lay limply on the bed, quiet fury at himself shining in his eyes.
“I’ll go get Willow,” Spike told him and left quickly. Oz shifted Wesley so he was sitting up more and brought him some water which he carefully helped Wesley drink.
“Thank you,” Wesley’s voice rang with meaning despite his general inability to speak clearly at the moment.
“No problem,” Oz told him, gripping his hand briefly in assurance.
Spike came back in with Willow in tow. She went immediately to Wesley’s side and laid her hand on his forehead.
“Diagnosis, doc?” Spike asked impatiently. Willow rolled her eyes.
“I’m not exactly qualified to be even a nurse, Spike. I’m trying to feel his aura.”
“Diagnosis, sorceress?” Spike inquired again. Oz grinned.
“He’s woken himself up of his own accord, that’s good,” Willow said. “He doesn’t seem to have anything wrong other than a deep depression and emotional guilt, but I guess that’s to be expected. He’s physically fine as far as I can make out, but he’s really weak. He’s gonna need help for awhile.”
“My fault,” Wesley mumbled.
“Don’t you start that, Wes,” Spike snapped at him.
“No, no,” Wesley tried to shake his head. “Bloody selfish.”
“Who?” Willow asked.
“Me, all me,” Wesley said, closing his eyes again.
“You just need rest,” Oz told him. “Blame comes later.”
“Wouldn’t need rest if I hadn’t felt I needed to punish myself. Could’ve done that while I was awake. I hear flogging’s nice this time of year,” Wesley mumbled, half in, half out of consciousness.
“Cut that kind of talk, mate,” Spike told him. “We’re here and you’ll get better.”
“What he really needs is lots of nourishment,” Willow told the other two. “I’m gonna give him a kind of energy boost so he can eat and then we’ll let him sleep again.”
“You can do that?” Spike asked.
“Not as well as I could’ve yesterday,” Willow said bitterly. “But well enough.”
“Easy does it, Red,” Spiked smoothed. “Just do what you can.”
“Sure thing,” she answered and quickly spoke some quiet words under her breath, letting them flow out from her and surround Wesley and come into his very being. His breathing grew more regular and some color came back into his cheeks. His eyes opened and his stomach rumbled.
“How about dinner?” he asked.
They all smiled. Now that was more like it.
***
Wesley sighed in deep satisfaction. He hadn’t realized he’d been so famished. True, he felt as weak as a kitten, but the energy Willow had given him was enough to allow him to get some real energy into his body and he knew that was the best way to get him strong and healthy again. As soon as he was able, he’d start working with Spike, getting fit. He had to be able to fight, to cut down the monster who was wearing his Winifred.
He stopped thinking. He had to. There could be no more wallowing in misery. Fred wouldn’t have wanted that. He was heartily angry at himself for letting things go this far. He’d traveled half way around the world and barely knew it. That was certainly a fine way to handle things. No, all it did was betray her trust in him. But that was stopping from this point on.
He could trust Spike. Indeed, he felt glad knowing Spike was there. He also knew that Willow, Buffy and Giles could be trusted to work out any tough situation. Or impossible situation. He’d underestimated them before. He wasn’t really sure he wanted to talk to Giles personally, however. But he’d reflect on that later. Now was the time to get better.
He believed Oz would help. He didn’t know what to justify his faith on, but he felt somehow that the young man had pledged his support and friendship to him in some way. Wesley could receive it gratefully, knowing he’d done nothing to deserve it in the past. But the young man had seen pain; Wesley could see it in his eyes.
There was a noise from the other room and Wesley heard voices. In particular a voice that he suddenly cringed to hear.
***
In the living room Buffy and Angel had gotten home. Angel was protesting rather loudly about a comment Buffy had made on the way regarding a punch he’d laid sometime during the night. Spike smirked. Nothing like his girl in fighting form.
“Leprechaun is a bad word, Buffy,” Angel told her, almost fighting to hold back a grin himself. It had been a good night. He hadn’t felt that rejuvenated in a long time. Being with friends helped.
“It’s your thumb, not mine,” she told him sweetly. Angel simply glowered and turned to hang his coat up carefully, then stopped, sniffing the air.
“He’s awake?” he asked Spike abruptly.
“Barely,” Oz muttered into his food.
“He’s out of it,” Spike concurred. Angel blanched suddenly and looked as if he wanted to run for the door.
“What’s the matter now, Grampa?” Spike asked curiously. “Just to let you know, that was what we were hoping for.”
“I know, Spike!” Angel shot back. “But I’m just not ready.”
“For what?” Buffy asked.
“To face him.”
“For what?” Buffy and Spike asked together.
“For bringing her to that place,” Angel said softly. Buffy’s face softened.
“I think there’s enough blame to go around, Angel.”
“Maybe we should draw straws,” Oz suggested.
“There’s a plan,” Willow encouraged. “We could make a fun game out of it. You know, who did the bad things that we should pun…” she trailed off. Oz and Buffy both hid smiles.
“You should see him,” Spike told Angel firmly. Angel nodded.
“I know.”
“I’ll stay out here. There shouldn’t be a crowd,” Willow said.
“Me too,” Oz said.
“I’ll lead the way,” Spike said.
***
Wesley prepared himself. He knew they were coming now. He wanted to properly thank Buffy for letting him into her home. In some way, he still didn’t think he deserved her kindness at all, considering how he’d let her down in the past. Angel, well, Angel was still his friend.
All the same he couldn’t help flinching as the big vampire walked into the room. He well remembered the last time Angel had walked into a room where he had been lying helpless on a bed. Although he couldn’t quite recall why it had happened.
“Wes,” Angel said. “We’ve been worried. Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Wesley rasped. “Dandy.”
“Can I do anything?” Angel asked, obviously feeling like running away.
“No, I can manage,” Wesley said, just as uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” Angel said quickly before leaving the room.
“I know,” Wesley said quietly, knowing Angel could hear him.
“Well, aren’t you two the chipper ones?” Spike asked Wesley who gave a grim smile.
“Angel and I always need time after a crisis.”
“Well, take as much time as you need, Wes,” Buffy told him. “You’re back on the right side of the ocean and there’s no check out policy at the Hotel Buffy.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” Wesley said feebly. “I shouldn’t be here. But I’m so pleased anyway-”
“Don’t be getting formal on me again,” Buffy told him with a grin. “Spike tells me you’ve become a normal person now who occasionally doesn’t shave and everything.”
“Sometimes,” Wesley said. “Other moments I scream like a woman.”
Buffy grinned.
“Well, I’d miss you if you were too different.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” he told her. She smiled again.
“Get better, Wes. There are a lot of people here who need you.”
“Thank you, Miss Summers,” Wesley told her. She left the room, leaving Spike alone with Wesley.
“How goes the reunion?” Wesley asked. Spike grabbed a chair and sat down.
“None of your bloody business, that’s how,” he said slyly. Wesley gave him a sideways glance and stopped talking. His voice hurt.
“Talk to me, Spike,” he said finally. “Tell me what I need to hear.”
“Of course, mate,” Spike said and proceeded to do just that.
***
It was dark when Wesley woke up. He didn’t know how long he’d slept. He felt better though he couldn’t quite move without effort. Mentally cursing himself, he wondered how he could get a hold of someone with his weak voice. Perhaps vampire hearing would do the trick.
“Can I get you something?” asked a voice from the shadows. Oz sat there with a book placed beside him.
“A bell would be quite sufficient, you know,” Wesley said uncomfortably. “I’m sure you all have much better things to do.”
“Precious things bear watching,” Oz shrugged. “Now what can I order for you?”
“I don’t suppose you’d let me have a steak,” Wesley said doubtfully. Oz smiled.
“Sorry. Willow’s orders. Lots of toast, tea and broth. Maybe we can work our way up to oatmeal.”
Wesley’s face brightened at the mention of tea.
“A cup would be lovely,” he said. “Better bring the lots of toast with you while
you’re at it.”
“Coming right up,” Oz left the room. In a little while he was back, bearing a tray loaded down with toast and a pot of tea. Wesley felt at home as he smelled the aroma and knew that either Spike or Giles had had a hand in making it.
“I do appreciate this, Oz,” he told the young man who was settling back into his chair.
“Honestly, please don’t mention it,” Oz told him. “As in, really please don’t. Willow could tell you why.”
“I’m willing to accommodate.”
“Stop trying to be the Watcher again,” Oz told him. “I think you’re actually quite dangerous under the little formal facade you got going on.”
Wesley turned a bit red.
“I’m sorry. I just…revert to old habits under pressure.”
“There’s no pressure here,” Oz told him. “Lots of angst and drama, but no pressure.”
“Thank goodness,” Wesley said dryly. “Whatever was I worrying about?”
“You got me,” Oz answered. They grew quiet and the sounds were broken by Wesley’s quiet chewing and the flipping of Oz’s pages.
“What are you reading?” Wesley asked softly.
“Call of the Wild. I like it. It’s homey. Willow used to read it to me when I was caged.”
“I do recall seeing it around the library,” Wesley remembered. “Not that it being in a library would be surprising, but it did seem to turn up regularly.”
“Like clockwork,” Oz said, his face unreadable.
“Are you in control now?” Wesley asked him tentatively, unsure of how much ground he’d really made with Oz.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s not that. I just wonder what control really means.”
“I often wonder that myself,” Wesley said, thinking back on his life. Oz looked at him and understood what he was thinking about.
“Did all those times I refrained from something mean I was in control or that I was capitulating to some need stronger than myself?” Wesley continued.
“Again, I surrender, you got me.” Wesley gave a vague smile and continued to eat.
“Are my things here do you know?”
“Yeah,” Oz told him. “They got a pile of luggage in the closet.”
“Perhaps I shall be able to go through it tomorrow.”
“Willow said you’re pretty much going to be in bed for the next little while,” Oz told him. “You crashed yourself pretty hard.”
Wesley’s tightened face showed that he didn’t need to be told that.
“I just, foolishly, didn’t want to face anything. It was all too much,” he said quietly.
“I’d be agreeing.”
“Everything seems so fuzzy,” Wesley said musingly. “I can’t remember some things, or it’s like I want to remember something that didn’t happen. But all the things I want to forget are extremely clear, like when she-“ he stopped. “When Angel brought us into that place, brought her there. When Gunn signed those forms.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Fun is a sandbox or a beach,” Wesley said a little sharply. “Watching the woman you love die and having your best friends sign her death sentence is something else entirely.”
“Pretty much a different species,” Oz agreed calmly. Wesley looked at him.
“You never do show anger through your words.”
“I’m pretty much an action-guy,” Oz answered. “But anger, anger and I have formed an attachment.” Wesley didn’t say anything. Pretty soon he’d finished his meal and was ready to sleep again. His voice and eyes hurt and eating had taken a lot out of him. Oz took his tray as Wesley fell asleep.
“Sleep well,” Oz spoke over him. Then he waited until the moon rose and he was relieved by Buffy and went out onto the balcony. The anger that he’d spoken about with Wesley rose up in him as the moon did before him. Its power fueled the rage that he felt at the changes he could sense in the people around him, especially his own Willow. He hated and loved feeling the silver rays of the moon and the thrill and energy that he gained from it as it ever sought to change him.
***
The next time Wesley woke up he was definitely alone though sounds from the other room told him the house was not completely vacant. He settled back into his pillows and tried to assess his physical status. Everything seemed to be working, though his voice was still hoarse and his eyes didn’t want to focus. He also didn’t think he’d be walking soon.
“A right bloody baby, complete with nappies, you’ve made,” he muttered. Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” he called quietly. Angel opened the door and brought in a tray with some broth and toast.
“Uh, hi,” he said. “I thought you’d probably be wanting this since you were awake.” Wesley shifted a bit, but reached for the tray.
“Vampires never cease to amaze me.”
“Nifty breed,” Angel said, backing away to stand against the wall.
“I never would have let her come,” Angel said suddenly. “If I’d known. I would’ve saved her from the monsters.”
“I know all that,” Wesley said. “But that doesn’t change the facts. I watched her die, Angel.” Angel’s face contracted and he swallowed.
“I’m so sorry, Wesley.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Wesley told him. “I know she would’ve wanted us to stay together. I know that I’ve never been happier than when we fought side by side, or me a few steps behind.” Angel cracked a smile. “But I still have things I need to sort out in my mind. But you are my family, Angel.”
“Right now you’re all that’s left of mine,” Angel told him. Wesley shook his head.
“If you want to be precise, I believe there is a rather close relative of yours out in the living room and Buffy will always remain bound to you. We can’t go on as we were before, but I think it will help to remember that we’re not alone.”
“I thought I was the one with a lifetime of knowledge,” Angel said. “Or two or three.”
“I believe most of that time you spent learning nothing but things I don’t care to think about,” Wesley reminded him.
“Oh yeah,” Angel sighed. “I’ll still be here, Wes. But I know you have to go on and I have things I can’t ignore anymore.”
“I appreciate that. I won’t hold it against you. I’ll be here as well.”
“How did it come to this?” Angel mused out loud as he left. Wesley sipped his broth and wondered the same thing.
***
Over the next few weeks Buffy, Spike and Angel patrolled, Giles and Willow researched, perhaps not for the same reasons. Oz helped with both of those occupations, but Wesley rested and regained his strength. He was almost up to walking when Giles wanted to acquaint everyone with the research he’d been doing.
As Spike carried him into the living room, Wesley felt like a fool, but he grimly bore the shame that in truth, only he, thrust upon himself. The others settled around the room as Giles gathered his notes and began his usual exposition.
“We’re up against our normal, impossible fight,” he told them. “Not only has one of the Old Ones resurfaced, but the power of one of the greatest evils of our world has been added to it. Illyria was greatly feared in her day when there were those who could oppose her. But now it would be most dire to fight her when we have nothing of those weapons that they had in her reign. She has the ability to open portals and walk through dimensions and freeze time, her skin is incredibly hard and her agility and strength is beyond Buffy’s, Spike’s and Angel’s, perhaps combined. With the power of W & H she has complete control over each evil creature in their vast empire, which apparently is the earth; so it is a very good thing that Angel and Spike possess their souls and that Oz has control over his wolf. As it is, I am sure they’re feeling the pressure.” The three men nodded their confirmation.
“She’s calling,” Oz said softly.
“So now we know we’re in a bad situation,” Giles continued. “But we knew that. The question is what can we do about it?”
“Not much.” Willow took up the tale. “Illyria doesn’t seem to have weaknesses. But she can be killed because she was buried in the Deeper Well. She also has to have her human vessel intact, so if we can damage, uh, Fred,” she said hastily before continuing, “then her power won’t be enough. She’s bound to her body.”
Wesley blanched and Giles started again quickly.
“There are not very many writings from the time of the Old Ones. But I’ve access to a few through my new pass into the remnants of the Watcher’s library. Sometimes being in charge has merit. But these writings are all we have to go on. There may be some spells or guides as to how to weaken or destroy her. I will make sure you’re all updated fully as I find out more. But as of this moment I do not know of anything that can defeat her.”
“Thank you, Giles,” Buffy said. “I appreciate all of that.” Giles nodded, his heart gratified.
“And you, Will,” Buffy turned to her friend. “I noticed you’ve been putting a lot of effort into research.” Willow turned a bit red.
“It’s personal, I guess.” Buffy quirked an eyebrow and spoke low.
“Because of Fred or because she’s more powerful than you?”
“Can’t it be both?” Willow asked defiantly. Buffy pondered and then addressed the whole group without answering.
“Please be careful, guys. She’s tricky and she knows us somehow.” She was interrupted by the phone ringing. The others continued to discuss the matter while she went to answer it.
“Nuthouse,” she said cheerfully.
“So you finally admit you’re crazy,” Dawn’s voice came over the line.
“Hey, Dawnie! I’m talking about the other residents. How goes the quest?”
“Really good,” Dawn answered. “That’s actually why I called. I’m sorta gonna be unavailable for awhile.”
“Which means?” Buffy instantly went into mother mode. Dawn sighed.
“Stop it. I’m fine. But the coven I’ve been working with has unlocked some of my powers and they think the best way for me to learn about them is to use them. So I’m going to another dimension and time works differently there. It will be awhile for you before I come back.”
“You only just turned 18!” Buffy yelled.
“I have to do this, Buffy. I’m going, but I’ll give you all my information and the coven should know what’s going on even if they can’t really contact me. It’s not dangerous.”
“Spike’s gonna explode,” Buffy muttered, seeing him waiting for an explanation of her shouting. She heard a sharp intake of breath.
“SPIKE what?” Dawn asked.
Buffy sighed. More explaining. Perfect.
***
“You’re bouncing,” Wesley commented from a chair by the window. Spike just grinned and continued transferring blood from a cooler into the fridge. They were alone in the front room. That day Wesley had managed three steps on his own and so he felt a little elated himself, but Spike had a different reason.
“I think she likes me again,” he said.
“Buffy?” Wesley asked dryly.
“Nope,” Spike answered cheekily.
“Dawn,” Wesley caught on.
“Bring out the cigars,” Spike congratulated Wesley. “She actually said she was sorry she couldn’t see me before she went dimension hopping. Apparently setting people on fire isn’t her main passion anymore.”
“I believe she has grown some,” Wesley said softly. “When people die you realize their worth and no longer wish they had to pay for what they did.”
“Like who?” Spike asked the deeper question.
“No one.” Wesley turned his head back toward the window. Spike finished putting away the blood and then leaned against the wall next to the quiet convalescent.
“Don’t be like that, mate,” he said gently. “I don’t want to have to use force, but we’re getting smaller here and bottling up leads to brooding which I won’t let you bollocks up your life with like a certain grandsire of mine.” Wesley let out a small chuckle, almost bitter, but with real enjoyment in there.
“I was referring to Charles.”
“Wasn’t too happy with old Charlie-boy there at the end,” Spike said offhand.
“Me either,” Wesley agreed. Spike smiled grimly.
“Sure, you bloody stabbed him.”
“As I’ve said repeatedly,” Wesley reiterated. “I avoided the main organs.”
“Sure, only a maiming then.”
“I regret it now,” Wesley said.
“Really?”
“Well, not really. But I regret that I don’t regret it. And I wish that he’d lived and shared this pain with us. We could grow further that way. As much as I am not happy with Angel right now, I know it will not last. We can be again as we were, but with more understanding, hopefully.”
“But Gunn doesn’t have that chance.”
“No.” Wesley shook his head. “He doesn’t. But I think now that he’s gone, I still have a choice whether or not to let this keep me from living. I am pleased that though Dawn didn’t immediately become an adoring little sister, she understood you and forgave you. I want to do that.”
“Does that you mean you did?”
“That means I’m trying,” Wesley answered, knowing it was the best he had to give.