How to Treat Your Lover (A(us)/S, Buffy) NC-17 70/?
Title: How to Treat Your Lover (Book 5)
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.
BETA: Myself, Morgan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing - M/M, Angelus/Spike, Angel/Spike
Timeline - ATS Season 4/BTVS Season 7-AU
Summary - With both Angel and Cordelia still missing, Fred and Gunn try to keep Angel Investigations running while they search for their friends. Ironically, the man everyone believes betrayed Angel is the one who finally comes to Angel's rescue. Then, as suddenly as she had vanished, Cordelia inexplicably reappears with no recollection of her life or her friends. Unbeknownst to the team, things aren’t always what they appear. Even as Cordelia regains her memory, she harbors a secret that will change their lives forever. Finally, Spike returns from his sojourn abroad with his gift to Angel that leaves him mentally unstable. Meanwhile, in Sunnydale, Dawn starts her sophomore year at the new Sunnydale High School with a mysterious new principal that may shake things up. Oh, and there's an apocalypse a'comin' on two fronts.
Feedback - It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.
Author's Note - This story came to me after watching how Buffy treated Spike in SMASHED - AS YOU WERE (BTVS, Season 6). I wondered how Angel would truly feel, if he really knew how Buffy mistreated Spike. Yes, Spike is the Big Bad, and he and Angel normally don't see eye-to-eye, but they are family nonetheless
Surprise Special Guest Appearances in this Chapter
Word Count: 4,435 overall
How to Treat Your Lover Soundtrack (Feel free to suggest a song/scene)
( Book 1 )
( Book 2 )
( Book 3 )
( Book 4 )
( Previous Chapters for Book 5 )
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Chapter 70: Step 5 - Acceptance (Part 3)
San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night
John Winchester was near the Dawn Mine in the San Gabriel mountains. A few teenagers had gone missing up in the mountains while looking for a place to be together. He left a message for Dean, explaining where he was headed, and that it shouldn’t take him more than a week to investigate. If he needed backup, he’d call again. Dean was on his own case, working a phantom traveler haunting a certain back country road in Texas.
From his research, John learned that the Dawn Mine was one of those forgotten gold mines that provided a glimpse into the past, and California's Gold Rush. The entrance to the mine was a half-mile hike up Millard Canyon, to Millard Falls. Teenage boys seemed to be using it as a place to take their dates, hoping Millard Falls would be so romantic they’d get lucky.
John grunted, panting a little as he made the trek up the canyon, to the mine, by the light of his flashlight. When he made it to the entrance, his EMF meter began chirping like an electronic cicada, in his coat pocket. He pulled it out, watching the needle dance all over the scale. He held out the meter in front of him, making his way inside the mine. Following the track past the mining car, his flashlight flickered out, and he heard a whizzing sound, ducking just as a pickaxe hurtled over his head, embedding itself in the wall.
**************************
City Park Near the offices of Wolfram & Hart, A Week Later, Night
Several cars were parked in a row alongside a small park bench where Angel, Gunn, Lorne, Wesley, and Fred gathered for a late dinner.
“Hey, uh, who wants some Mu Shu? I got beaucoup Mu Shu here,” Lorne offered.
“I’ll take some, thanks,” Fred accepted, scanning the area with her instrument, looking for any bugs the Senior Partners may have hidden to track them, or to listen in on anything they said. “Angel, this little picnic was such a good idea.”
“Yeah, man,” Gunn agreed. “Why haven’t we done this before?”
Fred walked around their bench, scanning Wesley, while Lorne operated the other end of the scanning device, which was encased in a silver briefcase.
“Well, you know, you’ve all been working so hard -” Angel began, trying to make light of it.
“Has anyone seen the plum sauce?” Wesley asked, interrupting him.
Fred stopped scanning Wesley, putting the scanner back in the briefcase, on the picnic table. “We’re clean. Nobody’s listening.”
“You were late,” Angel accused Wesley.
“I thought I was being followed,” Wesley explained, fixing himself a plate of food.
“I get that we have to be careful, but it feels weird hiding from the company we’re supposed to be running,” Gunn told them, picking at the food on his plate.
“We’re not hiding, we’re being safe,” Angel corrected. “There are factions at Wolfram & Hart, people who want to see us destroyed.”
“But still, it’s not like everyone there’s evil,” Fred reasoned. “I mean, we work with these people. Some of ’em I see more than I see you guys, at least lately, anyway.”
“And you think you can trust him?” Wesley blurted. Fred gave him a confused look. “Them,” he corrected. “Do you think you can trust them?”
“What?” Fred’s brow furrowed.
“These - people, the ones you’re spending so much time with lately. Knox, for example,” Wesley clarified.
Fred blushed in embarrassment. “Uh, we’re, you know, heh heh, friendly, but he’s under me -” She blushed a deeper red. “Or I’m on top of him.” God, that sounded even worse. “Professionally. All I’m saying is he - he’s not evil.”
“I think we’re all agreed that the Senior Partners are,” Angel broke in before Fred could make any more faux pas. “They put us in charge for a reason. What we need to know is - why?”
“We’ve only been there a month,” Gunn defended.
“Turns out running a company doesn’t leave a lot of time for, you know, covert ops,” Fred added.
“Yeah, I’m up to my horns in schmoozin’ starlets and boozin’ hipsters, Angel,” Lorne put in.
“What about Gunn?” Wesley asked, his eyes narrowing on the former vampire-hunter.
“What about Gunn?” Gunn asked angrily.
“It’s - well, what they put in your head,” Fred interjected, trying to avoid a confrontation. “All that law knowledge and whatever. Maybe you know something, more than the rest of us.”
“The alteration to your mental capacity -” Wesley continued.
“My capacity’s the same as it’s always been,” Gunn cut in. “The good doctor just revved up some idlin’ brain cells, set ’em in motion.”
“It’s a legitimate concern,” Angel pointed out. “You gave them access to -”
“I made a deal,” Gunn stated. “We all did. Seems like I’m the only one who’s willing to accept that. Everybody here got something out of this.”
“Fear, mistrust,” Angel nodded. “A great motor pool.”
“I got the Nancy Sinatra collection. Original forty-fives,” Lorne chirped.
“I did get a rather nice pen,” Wesley added, taking an expensive pen from his pocket, admiring it. “Sterling. Has my name on it. Which is not the point at all.”
“No, the point is, what? That I’m some spy for the Senior Partners?” Gunn demanded.
“Nobody’s saying that,” Angel replied.
“Just thinking it!” Gunn countered.
“No, Charles,” Fred placated.
“The point is: the Senior Partners have a plan for us, and if we’re not prepared -” Angel began.
“Angel,” Fred cut him off. “It’s not like we don’t want to be ready. We just have, you know, plates, big, heaping, full plates.”
“Between running our departments, handling clients, dealing with Spike -” Wesley started to tick off reasons for the slow pace.
Angel held up a hand in a halting motion. “Spike is a distraction. As soon as he’s released from his ties with Wolfram & Hart -”
“That could take years,” Wesley groaned.
“Using the amulet to destroy the Hellmouth, it turned Spike into -” Fred started to say.
“A spook?” Lorne finished.
“Well, he’s more than a ghost. He’s something unique,” Fred corrected.
“Regardless, whatever binds him -” Wesley continued.
Suddenly, the ringing of Angel’s phone rent the quiet night. “Hold that thought,” Angel said, moving to answer it, not seeing Wesley irritably rolling his eyes.
“Hello?” Angel greeted.
A husky voice, roughened by years of drinking, caressed Angel’s ear. “This is Dean Winchester. You called me before saying you knew my dad. Well, I haven’t heard from him in a while, and I think something’s up.”
“I haven’t heard from him. Do you want me to have my contacts put out the word for any rumors?” Angel asked, ignoring the strange looks his group was giving him.
“He was working a case in the San Gabriel mountains. I’m on my way there from working a case in Texas, but,” Dean paused, trying to tamp the worry in his voice. “I’m on my way there now. I may need your help. You called me out of the blue once, asking for help for your friend, and because you said you knew my dad, I took a chance and gave you my brother’s number. I may need to collect on the favor.”
Angel considered this. Of course, Dean wouldn’t call Sam. Even when Angel found Sam, and asked for help with Cordelia, it took a bit of maneuvering to get Sam to finally agree to break away from his college life to return to a job that he thought he'd put behind him. Angel got the sense that Dean and Sam weren’t speaking to each other then, and that hadn’t changed, now. Angel glanced over at his team. They were still eating Chinese while looking at him with curious expressions. He wondered how much he should tell them about what Dean’s family did.
When silence ensued, Dean glanced at his phone, seeing the call hadn’t dropped. He put the phone back to his ear. “Hello?”
“Yeah, Dean. I’m here,” Angel assured him. “How much information am I allowed to tell my team, so I can start a search until you get here?”
“Enough to have a shot at finding him, but not so much that it would jeopardize anything he may be working on.”
“Right,” Angel acknowledged. “I’ll call you back after I talk to them.”
Angel heard Dean talking to himself under his breath. “I’ll just be over here, going out of my mind, while you have a conversation.” Angel was sure the hunter hadn’t meant to give voice to his fears while a complete stranger was listening in.
“Give me ten, fifteen minutes, Dean,” Angel tried to sound confident and professional. He hung up after saying goodbye, pocketing the phone.
Angel moved closer to his team, preparing to fill them in. “That was a guy who's calling in a favor. Someone was up in the San Gabriel mountains and got lost. He’d like us to help him find the guy.”
“Are you going to tell us who this mystery guy is?” Gunn demanded, still fuming that, five minutes earlier, everyone was ganging up on him about Wolfram & Hart enhancing his mental faculties.
“He’s the guy who helped me with Cordy,” Angel explained. “Now, he needs our help.”
“It’s just a little suspicious that this stranger is calling your personal cell,” Wesley interjected.
“Are you going to help, or analyze my motivations all night?” Angel asked, walking past the group, toward his car.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby, Day
Angel and Gunn were talking as they walked together through the lobby of the law firm, Angel holding up an eight-by-ten topography map of the San Gabriel mountains.
“Please tell me there is a much larger version of this somewhere,” Angel complained, squinting at the tiny lines. “Is this a stream, running through the mountains?”
Gunn looked at the map over Angel’s shoulder. “Actually, I think that’s a path up the mountain.”
“These ranges look close together. Hopefully he’s not too hurt, if he is at all. Looks a like a dangerous hike. Who would choose to go into the mountains?” Angel pondered out loud.
Gunn pressed the button when they got to the elevator. “I looked into why someone would go up there; it seems to be a teenagers’ lovers’ leap thing, but some people have gone missing up there, over the years. This mystery guy you have us looking for isn’t the first one.” Gunn pulled out a folder that was tucked under his arm. “Over the past few years, ten teenage couples went missing in the mine shafts. That must have been why the mystery guy went up there to investigate?”
The elevator opened and Angel stepped inside, Gunn following. “Yeah, probably.”
***************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office, Day
Fred was poring over reports of those who'd gone missing around the San Gabriel mountains, working single-mindedly, when Spike materialized in her office.
“Well, aren’t we the busy little beaver,” Spike commented.
“Hi, Spike,” Fred greeted, unfazed by his sudden appearance. By now, she was used to him popping up in the strangest places.
“I don’t suppose all this bugaboo’s about yours ghostly?” Spike inquired hopefully.
“What?” Fred asked distractedly. “No, it’s not you. It’s -”
“Angel’s mystery friend. Right. Heard. About. That. Bloody shame the guy’s missing and all, but -”
“Spike, I’m sorry, but I’m kind of busy right now, with the situation,” Fred apologized, gathering her papers and walking towards the door.
“Hey, I’m a situation, remember? I’m a bloody phantom! And you and your serious girl spectacles were going to help me with my bloody problem!”
“I know, and I bloody will,” Fred repeated his colloquialism. “I had some ideas.”
“Really?” Spike said hopefully, raising a brow. “What? What ideas?”
“They’re going to have to wait until -” Fred trailed off, scanning her files.
“Later?” Spike finished. “There may not be a later, luv. It’s getting worse,” Spike told her.
Fred turned a concerned look Spike’s way. “Worse? You mean your -”
“My winking out of existence? Yeah,” Spike confirmed. He looked out of her office window. “And I’m not talking about quick pops to the netherworld. They’re lasting longer now.”
“How long?” Fred asked.
“Feels like forever,” Spike replied, turning and walking closer to her. “Look, something’s trying to hold onto me - on the other side. If you don’t do something soon, one of these times I - I may not come back.”
“Wesley might be able -” Fred offered.
“No!” Spike cut her off.
“He knows more about the mystical than -” Fred started to argue.
“I can’t,” Spike declined, taking a step back from her. “Things haven’t been the same between he and I since he tried to kill you while under the influence of that demon kid’s blood.”
“What?” Fred asked. “What did you do, Spike?”
“Why am I to blame?” Spike asked defensively. When she just stared at him, waiting for an answer, he sighed. “I gave him some words of advice is all. Look, I just don’t want anyone else to know about my condition, right? Last thing I need is this getting back to Angel.”
Fred strode to the door, her arms full of files. “Spike, I appreciate your condition, but right now we have a more pressing priority. Like finding and helping Angel’s friend.”
Spike bounced on his feet. “And me, I’m just left to fade into nothingness?”
Fred shook her head at Spike. “There’s no need to be dramatic. Look, just try not to disappear, and we’ll figure it out eventually. This place? We have access to everything.” With that, she walked out the door leaving Spike to ponder that parting remark.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lab, Day
Angel paced the lab as Fred, Wesley, and Gunn worked busily at separate computers.
“We’re useless. Is that what you’re trying to tell me? All these resources -” Angel grumbled.
“We’re doing everything we can,” Wesley commented.
“Ten years of disappearances, and a legend of a haunted mine shaft, is all we've got. Is that what I’m supposed to tell my contact?” Angel asked.
“Well, it’s not like we have a crime scene, or fingerprints, Angel. We’re working blind here,” Fred pointed out.
Suddenly, Spike appeared in the lab. “Bloody shame, not asking for details. Somebody’s slipping,” he remarked pointedly at Angel.
“Psychics are working on traces in the area. They picked up images of a mine shaft, but nothing is marked up there. Hasn’t been for years.”
“There has to be something,” Angel growled.
Spike watched his Sire. “That’s rough, mate. ’Cause lost in the mountains this long without water? Doesn’t look good for this missing bloke.”
“I’ll find him before that,” Angel declared.
“What happens if you get there and he’s dead from dehydration? What are you going to tell the bloke looking for him?” Spike asked.
**************************
San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Day
John Winchester managed to kill the Wendigo that had made the mine its home, but John came out of it with a sprained ankle, and his canteen was getting low on water. He needed pain killers for his leg and abdomen, and his back was killing him; courtesy of having been slammed into a rock wall. When that happened, he'd unfortunately landed heavily on his cell phone, smashing it, so he couldn’t call anyone for help. He decided that the moral of this little excursion was: carry more than one cell phone with you at all times.
John flipped the switch on his flashlight, but nothing happened, other than a pathetic click.
“Damn it,” John cursed, hobbling toward the speck of daylight he could make out, up ahead. He hoped there were no obstacles between where he was, and his destination, for him to stumble over, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to get up again.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lab, Day
Fred examined a photo of a topographical map that displayed the land mass more clearly. It showed any cliffs, rivers, streams, and vegetation in the mountains. Lorne peered at the screen from over her shoulder.
“This map has all the mines marked,” Fred commented.
“Tick-tock, Angel,” Spike said. “This late in the day, with that many mines, and a missing person with little or no water?”
“I’m at the DMV, searching for the truck that was last seen by a traffic camera going up the San Gabriel mountain road,” Wesley reported to Angel.
“We’re networked to traffic cameras?” Gunn asked, surprised.
“Yep,” Wesley replied distractedly.
“I’ll look at the cameras,” Gunn offered. “You get set to run with it if I find a match. ’Course I might leak it to the Senior Partners, ’cause we’re tight like that.”
“Just do it,” Wesley groused.
Spike hovered around Fred. “You know, luv, a lot of fuss over one guy. Other things to do around here - important things.”
Angel glared at his mate. “You know that whoosh thing that you do when you’re suddenly not there anymore? I love that.”
“10:19 four nights ago, 1986 GMC Sierra Grande 4x4, went up the canyon road, toward the mines.” Gunn handed Angel a print out of the last traffic camera shot of the truck.
“That’s it?” Angel asked.
“License number: C5G 8R3. No real address. Seems to be a drop box in Colorado,” Wesley said. “But his name is Elroy McGillicuddy.”
Angel smirked at the fake name.
**************************
San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night
John finally stumbled out of the cave after dusk descended over the land. Before pitch black made it impossible to see anything, he built a small fire using the Zippo in his coat pocket. Pulling up his pant leg, he examined the swelling of his ankle by firelight. It was nothing but dark shadows on his skin. He groaned at the condition he was in, lying back on his makeshift bedroll, and staring up at the twinkling stars.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Garage, Dusk
The team spent all day narrowing down which mines to explore first. The elevator doors opened to the garage, and Angel chose his old 1967 Plymouth GTX to drive; considering who he was looking for, he didn’t want to appear ostentatious. Once he got in, shutting the door, Spike materialized in the passenger seat beside him.
“So, decided to take the ol’ Angel-mobile out for a drive before she becomes a rusted bucket of bolts?” Spike asked conversationally.
Angel rolled his eyes. “You’ve become more annoying than usual, since you became a ghost.”
“How else am I going to get Fred to work on making me flesh and blood again if I don’t pester her?” Spike inquired. “So, where are we headed?”
“Why don’t you pick up the map and find out?” Angel asked, striving to be equally annoying.
Spike held up his hands, trying to touch the dashboard, only to have his fingers disappear. “I can’t.”
“Then, you’ll just have to sit there and see where I’m going,” Angel told him, starting the car and pulling out of his personal parking spot, speeding into the darkness of the world he knew.
**************************
New Mexico-Arizona Border, Night
The Impala’s engine purred as it sped down the highway. Dean Winchester had been driving ever since he hung up with Angel. He merged onto the I-10 West passing through New Mexico, and crossing into Arizona. Classic rock blared through the speakers, and he was singing along to Bob Seger’s Against the Wind when his phone rang.
Dean pulled out his phone, glancing at the caller ID: Angel. He answered it.
“Dean? It’s me, Angel. We figured out a general location for your dad. I’m in the car, on my way there.”
After Angel rattled off the location of the starting point of the search, Dean hung up, put the pedal, literally, to the metal, and displayed blatant disregard for the posted speed limit.
**************************
Los Angeles, Highway, Night
Angel hung up with Dean, groaning, when he heard Spike hum in an ‘uh-huh’ way.
“What?” Angel asked.
“So, who is the bloke we’re looking for? Who’s dad is he?” Spike asked curiously.
“Drop it, Spike,” Angel warned.
“It’s a long drive to wherever we’re headed. There’s only so many channels on the radio and your jalopy doesn’t play CDs. So, let’s talk. Who’s father are we looking for?” Spike pressed.
Angel growled as he drove on, a determined expression on his face.
**************************
San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night
John just discovered the trail leading back to the main road when he heard footsteps coming toward him. A male voice with a British accent was talking nonstop. John tightened his fingers around the grip of his gun at his side and readied himself to shoot if he was accosted. He rounded the corner of vegetation and saw, by moonlight, a dark-haired guy about Dean’s height, and another person who was a few inches shorter.
“John Winchester?” the dark-haired one inquired.
John cocked his weapon at his side. “Yes?”
“Your son, Dean, called me, asked me to look for you,” Angel said. “I’m Angel.” He glanced at his companion. “This is Spike.”
“Angel,” John relaxed a little finally recognizing a voice he hadn’t heard in years. The guarded tension left his body when he heard that Dean had sent them. “Where’s Dean?”
“He’s on his way here, from Texas,” Angel informed him as they stopped in front him.
“So, you’re the infamous John Winchester,” Spike commented.
“How do you know who I am?” John asked, suspicious of the blonde man’s tone.
“You don’t kill a horde of demons without making waves. Besides,” Spike shrugged and gestured towards Angel. “I’m mated to the bastard. It’s not like he can keep a secret from me for long.”
It took a minute for Spike’s words to sink in, and he groaned.
“Did you kill the monster you came hunting for?” Angel asked, ignoring Spike.
John looked skeptically between the two men before answering. “Yes. I killed him. Got a lot of aches and pains in the process.” John rotated his shoulders as if he could work out the kinks.
“Then what do you say we get off this mountain?” Angel suggested, turning to lead the way down the trail, John limping after him.
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San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night
Angel, Spike, and John made it down to the highway just as a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala jerked to a halt, tires screeching. The engine died, and Dean jumped out of the car.
“Dad!? Are you okay?” Dean asked worriedly, hurrying over to them. John stood still, his injured ankle causing him to favor the leg.
“Yeah, Dean. I’m fine,” John said gruffly, trying not to reveal pain in his face or voice. He turned to Angel and Spike. “Thanks for coming to check on me - even if my son here got a little anxious.”
“Not a problem, John,” Angel said.
Dean took his father's wrist, of the hand not holding the gun, drawing John's arm around his neck, helping him to the truck. “Are you sure you can drive, Dad?”
“Yeah. The motel isn’t far from here,” John assured him.
“Thanks again, for looking for him,” Dean said.
Angel nodded, watching as Dean helped John hobble to the old beat up truck.
“It’s sort of nice to know there are decent normal people out there, helping us fight the evil-demon population,” Spike remarked, watching John get into the truck, and Dean, into the Impala.
“Yeah. They are a good family. Let’s get back home. It’s been a long night,” Angel said, turning and going back to his car, getting in and gunning the engine.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office, Night
When they returned, Angel said a dismissive goodnight before going up to his penthouse apartment, leaving an otherworldly Spike to his own devices, in his office.
Spike wandered around the firm for a while, getting acquainted with the place, and somehow found himself in Fred’s darkened office. He turned toward the soft sound of her footsteps.
Fred walked into her office, after a conversation with Wesley, turning on the light and giving a small gasp of surprise when she saw Spike standing in the corner, barely visible.
“Spike, I’ve been looking for you,” Fred remarked breathlessly. “You were there again, where you go when you’re not - here.”
Spike had half-a-mind to tell her that he’d been with Angel this whole time, but thought better of it. “I was there. Nowhere really.” In the middle of the mountains looking for a hunter. “I didn’t think I was coming back.”
“But you did,” Fred laughed nervously. “Mostly. But still, you’re here.”
“Last gasp before eternal fire and brimstone,” Spike commented dryly. “Let’s party.”
“We have to tell Angel,” Fred insisted.
“No,” Spike said in a tone of finality.
“But he could do something, talk to the Senior Partners,” Fred suggested.
“I said no, Fred,” Spike bit out.
Fred squared her shoulders. “Okay, then I’m going to help you. Well, I - I don’t know exactly, but I am going to find a way to bring you back, really bring you back. I promise.”
Spike’s form became more visible, until it looked like he was flesh and blood she could reach out and touch. “Well, all right, then. No need to be dramatic.”
**************************
Best Western/Glendora Inn, Glendora, California, Night
“Why’d you call Angel into this?” John asked gruffly, watching his son raise his pant leg in order to examine his swollen ankle.
“Would you I rather left you out there in the mountains to die?” Dean asked angrily, none-too-gently settling the ice pack he'd made from a motel washcloth, and ice from the machine outside, on the injured limb.
John hissed. “I was fine - until the Wendigo tripped me up, but I killed it, and made it out of there.”
“You were in the mountains with a broken cell phone. If I hadn’t called Angel, you may very well have still been there until the next person who decided to take a hike, discovered your bones.”
“Damn it, Dean -”
“Damn it, Dad,” Dean mimicked. “Sam’s off at college. You and I are all we have left of this family. Be reckless all you want, on your own, but take more than one cell phone in case I can’t call anyone to save your ass.”
John sighed. “Fine.”
“Fine.” Dean echoed, before turning out the light and falling into the empty bed across from John’s bed.
By Tami (tabrandt @ hotmail.com)
Disclaimer: The characters from ATS / BTVS are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.
BETA: Myself, Morgan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing - M/M, Angelus/Spike, Angel/Spike
Timeline - ATS Season 4/BTVS Season 7-AU
Summary - With both Angel and Cordelia still missing, Fred and Gunn try to keep Angel Investigations running while they search for their friends. Ironically, the man everyone believes betrayed Angel is the one who finally comes to Angel's rescue. Then, as suddenly as she had vanished, Cordelia inexplicably reappears with no recollection of her life or her friends. Unbeknownst to the team, things aren’t always what they appear. Even as Cordelia regains her memory, she harbors a secret that will change their lives forever. Finally, Spike returns from his sojourn abroad with his gift to Angel that leaves him mentally unstable. Meanwhile, in Sunnydale, Dawn starts her sophomore year at the new Sunnydale High School with a mysterious new principal that may shake things up. Oh, and there's an apocalypse a'comin' on two fronts.
Feedback - It would be appreciated. My plot bunny has been lagging lately.
Author's Note - This story came to me after watching how Buffy treated Spike in SMASHED - AS YOU WERE (BTVS, Season 6). I wondered how Angel would truly feel, if he really knew how Buffy mistreated Spike. Yes, Spike is the Big Bad, and he and Angel normally don't see eye-to-eye, but they are family nonetheless
Surprise Special Guest Appearances in this Chapter
Word Count: 4,435 overall
How to Treat Your Lover Soundtrack (Feel free to suggest a song/scene)
( Book 1 )
( Book 2 )
( Book 3 )
( Book 4 )
( Previous Chapters for Book 5 )
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Chapter 70: Step 5 - Acceptance (Part 3)
San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night
John Winchester was near the Dawn Mine in the San Gabriel mountains. A few teenagers had gone missing up in the mountains while looking for a place to be together. He left a message for Dean, explaining where he was headed, and that it shouldn’t take him more than a week to investigate. If he needed backup, he’d call again. Dean was on his own case, working a phantom traveler haunting a certain back country road in Texas.
From his research, John learned that the Dawn Mine was one of those forgotten gold mines that provided a glimpse into the past, and California's Gold Rush. The entrance to the mine was a half-mile hike up Millard Canyon, to Millard Falls. Teenage boys seemed to be using it as a place to take their dates, hoping Millard Falls would be so romantic they’d get lucky.
John grunted, panting a little as he made the trek up the canyon, to the mine, by the light of his flashlight. When he made it to the entrance, his EMF meter began chirping like an electronic cicada, in his coat pocket. He pulled it out, watching the needle dance all over the scale. He held out the meter in front of him, making his way inside the mine. Following the track past the mining car, his flashlight flickered out, and he heard a whizzing sound, ducking just as a pickaxe hurtled over his head, embedding itself in the wall.
**************************
City Park Near the offices of Wolfram & Hart, A Week Later, Night
Several cars were parked in a row alongside a small park bench where Angel, Gunn, Lorne, Wesley, and Fred gathered for a late dinner.
“Hey, uh, who wants some Mu Shu? I got beaucoup Mu Shu here,” Lorne offered.
“I’ll take some, thanks,” Fred accepted, scanning the area with her instrument, looking for any bugs the Senior Partners may have hidden to track them, or to listen in on anything they said. “Angel, this little picnic was such a good idea.”
“Yeah, man,” Gunn agreed. “Why haven’t we done this before?”
Fred walked around their bench, scanning Wesley, while Lorne operated the other end of the scanning device, which was encased in a silver briefcase.
“Well, you know, you’ve all been working so hard -” Angel began, trying to make light of it.
“Has anyone seen the plum sauce?” Wesley asked, interrupting him.
Fred stopped scanning Wesley, putting the scanner back in the briefcase, on the picnic table. “We’re clean. Nobody’s listening.”
“You were late,” Angel accused Wesley.
“I thought I was being followed,” Wesley explained, fixing himself a plate of food.
“I get that we have to be careful, but it feels weird hiding from the company we’re supposed to be running,” Gunn told them, picking at the food on his plate.
“We’re not hiding, we’re being safe,” Angel corrected. “There are factions at Wolfram & Hart, people who want to see us destroyed.”
“But still, it’s not like everyone there’s evil,” Fred reasoned. “I mean, we work with these people. Some of ’em I see more than I see you guys, at least lately, anyway.”
“And you think you can trust him?” Wesley blurted. Fred gave him a confused look. “Them,” he corrected. “Do you think you can trust them?”
“What?” Fred’s brow furrowed.
“These - people, the ones you’re spending so much time with lately. Knox, for example,” Wesley clarified.
Fred blushed in embarrassment. “Uh, we’re, you know, heh heh, friendly, but he’s under me -” She blushed a deeper red. “Or I’m on top of him.” God, that sounded even worse. “Professionally. All I’m saying is he - he’s not evil.”
“I think we’re all agreed that the Senior Partners are,” Angel broke in before Fred could make any more faux pas. “They put us in charge for a reason. What we need to know is - why?”
“We’ve only been there a month,” Gunn defended.
“Turns out running a company doesn’t leave a lot of time for, you know, covert ops,” Fred added.
“Yeah, I’m up to my horns in schmoozin’ starlets and boozin’ hipsters, Angel,” Lorne put in.
“What about Gunn?” Wesley asked, his eyes narrowing on the former vampire-hunter.
“What about Gunn?” Gunn asked angrily.
“It’s - well, what they put in your head,” Fred interjected, trying to avoid a confrontation. “All that law knowledge and whatever. Maybe you know something, more than the rest of us.”
“The alteration to your mental capacity -” Wesley continued.
“My capacity’s the same as it’s always been,” Gunn cut in. “The good doctor just revved up some idlin’ brain cells, set ’em in motion.”
“It’s a legitimate concern,” Angel pointed out. “You gave them access to -”
“I made a deal,” Gunn stated. “We all did. Seems like I’m the only one who’s willing to accept that. Everybody here got something out of this.”
“Fear, mistrust,” Angel nodded. “A great motor pool.”
“I got the Nancy Sinatra collection. Original forty-fives,” Lorne chirped.
“I did get a rather nice pen,” Wesley added, taking an expensive pen from his pocket, admiring it. “Sterling. Has my name on it. Which is not the point at all.”
“No, the point is, what? That I’m some spy for the Senior Partners?” Gunn demanded.
“Nobody’s saying that,” Angel replied.
“Just thinking it!” Gunn countered.
“No, Charles,” Fred placated.
“The point is: the Senior Partners have a plan for us, and if we’re not prepared -” Angel began.
“Angel,” Fred cut him off. “It’s not like we don’t want to be ready. We just have, you know, plates, big, heaping, full plates.”
“Between running our departments, handling clients, dealing with Spike -” Wesley started to tick off reasons for the slow pace.
Angel held up a hand in a halting motion. “Spike is a distraction. As soon as he’s released from his ties with Wolfram & Hart -”
“That could take years,” Wesley groaned.
“Using the amulet to destroy the Hellmouth, it turned Spike into -” Fred started to say.
“A spook?” Lorne finished.
“Well, he’s more than a ghost. He’s something unique,” Fred corrected.
“Regardless, whatever binds him -” Wesley continued.
Suddenly, the ringing of Angel’s phone rent the quiet night. “Hold that thought,” Angel said, moving to answer it, not seeing Wesley irritably rolling his eyes.
“Hello?” Angel greeted.
A husky voice, roughened by years of drinking, caressed Angel’s ear. “This is Dean Winchester. You called me before saying you knew my dad. Well, I haven’t heard from him in a while, and I think something’s up.”
“I haven’t heard from him. Do you want me to have my contacts put out the word for any rumors?” Angel asked, ignoring the strange looks his group was giving him.
“He was working a case in the San Gabriel mountains. I’m on my way there from working a case in Texas, but,” Dean paused, trying to tamp the worry in his voice. “I’m on my way there now. I may need your help. You called me out of the blue once, asking for help for your friend, and because you said you knew my dad, I took a chance and gave you my brother’s number. I may need to collect on the favor.”
Angel considered this. Of course, Dean wouldn’t call Sam. Even when Angel found Sam, and asked for help with Cordelia, it took a bit of maneuvering to get Sam to finally agree to break away from his college life to return to a job that he thought he'd put behind him. Angel got the sense that Dean and Sam weren’t speaking to each other then, and that hadn’t changed, now. Angel glanced over at his team. They were still eating Chinese while looking at him with curious expressions. He wondered how much he should tell them about what Dean’s family did.
When silence ensued, Dean glanced at his phone, seeing the call hadn’t dropped. He put the phone back to his ear. “Hello?”
“Yeah, Dean. I’m here,” Angel assured him. “How much information am I allowed to tell my team, so I can start a search until you get here?”
“Enough to have a shot at finding him, but not so much that it would jeopardize anything he may be working on.”
“Right,” Angel acknowledged. “I’ll call you back after I talk to them.”
Angel heard Dean talking to himself under his breath. “I’ll just be over here, going out of my mind, while you have a conversation.” Angel was sure the hunter hadn’t meant to give voice to his fears while a complete stranger was listening in.
“Give me ten, fifteen minutes, Dean,” Angel tried to sound confident and professional. He hung up after saying goodbye, pocketing the phone.
Angel moved closer to his team, preparing to fill them in. “That was a guy who's calling in a favor. Someone was up in the San Gabriel mountains and got lost. He’d like us to help him find the guy.”
“Are you going to tell us who this mystery guy is?” Gunn demanded, still fuming that, five minutes earlier, everyone was ganging up on him about Wolfram & Hart enhancing his mental faculties.
“He’s the guy who helped me with Cordy,” Angel explained. “Now, he needs our help.”
“It’s just a little suspicious that this stranger is calling your personal cell,” Wesley interjected.
“Are you going to help, or analyze my motivations all night?” Angel asked, walking past the group, toward his car.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lobby, Day
Angel and Gunn were talking as they walked together through the lobby of the law firm, Angel holding up an eight-by-ten topography map of the San Gabriel mountains.
“Please tell me there is a much larger version of this somewhere,” Angel complained, squinting at the tiny lines. “Is this a stream, running through the mountains?”
Gunn looked at the map over Angel’s shoulder. “Actually, I think that’s a path up the mountain.”
“These ranges look close together. Hopefully he’s not too hurt, if he is at all. Looks a like a dangerous hike. Who would choose to go into the mountains?” Angel pondered out loud.
Gunn pressed the button when they got to the elevator. “I looked into why someone would go up there; it seems to be a teenagers’ lovers’ leap thing, but some people have gone missing up there, over the years. This mystery guy you have us looking for isn’t the first one.” Gunn pulled out a folder that was tucked under his arm. “Over the past few years, ten teenage couples went missing in the mine shafts. That must have been why the mystery guy went up there to investigate?”
The elevator opened and Angel stepped inside, Gunn following. “Yeah, probably.”
***************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office, Day
Fred was poring over reports of those who'd gone missing around the San Gabriel mountains, working single-mindedly, when Spike materialized in her office.
“Well, aren’t we the busy little beaver,” Spike commented.
“Hi, Spike,” Fred greeted, unfazed by his sudden appearance. By now, she was used to him popping up in the strangest places.
“I don’t suppose all this bugaboo’s about yours ghostly?” Spike inquired hopefully.
“What?” Fred asked distractedly. “No, it’s not you. It’s -”
“Angel’s mystery friend. Right. Heard. About. That. Bloody shame the guy’s missing and all, but -”
“Spike, I’m sorry, but I’m kind of busy right now, with the situation,” Fred apologized, gathering her papers and walking towards the door.
“Hey, I’m a situation, remember? I’m a bloody phantom! And you and your serious girl spectacles were going to help me with my bloody problem!”
“I know, and I bloody will,” Fred repeated his colloquialism. “I had some ideas.”
“Really?” Spike said hopefully, raising a brow. “What? What ideas?”
“They’re going to have to wait until -” Fred trailed off, scanning her files.
“Later?” Spike finished. “There may not be a later, luv. It’s getting worse,” Spike told her.
Fred turned a concerned look Spike’s way. “Worse? You mean your -”
“My winking out of existence? Yeah,” Spike confirmed. He looked out of her office window. “And I’m not talking about quick pops to the netherworld. They’re lasting longer now.”
“How long?” Fred asked.
“Feels like forever,” Spike replied, turning and walking closer to her. “Look, something’s trying to hold onto me - on the other side. If you don’t do something soon, one of these times I - I may not come back.”
“Wesley might be able -” Fred offered.
“No!” Spike cut her off.
“He knows more about the mystical than -” Fred started to argue.
“I can’t,” Spike declined, taking a step back from her. “Things haven’t been the same between he and I since he tried to kill you while under the influence of that demon kid’s blood.”
“What?” Fred asked. “What did you do, Spike?”
“Why am I to blame?” Spike asked defensively. When she just stared at him, waiting for an answer, he sighed. “I gave him some words of advice is all. Look, I just don’t want anyone else to know about my condition, right? Last thing I need is this getting back to Angel.”
Fred strode to the door, her arms full of files. “Spike, I appreciate your condition, but right now we have a more pressing priority. Like finding and helping Angel’s friend.”
Spike bounced on his feet. “And me, I’m just left to fade into nothingness?”
Fred shook her head at Spike. “There’s no need to be dramatic. Look, just try not to disappear, and we’ll figure it out eventually. This place? We have access to everything.” With that, she walked out the door leaving Spike to ponder that parting remark.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lab, Day
Angel paced the lab as Fred, Wesley, and Gunn worked busily at separate computers.
“We’re useless. Is that what you’re trying to tell me? All these resources -” Angel grumbled.
“We’re doing everything we can,” Wesley commented.
“Ten years of disappearances, and a legend of a haunted mine shaft, is all we've got. Is that what I’m supposed to tell my contact?” Angel asked.
“Well, it’s not like we have a crime scene, or fingerprints, Angel. We’re working blind here,” Fred pointed out.
Suddenly, Spike appeared in the lab. “Bloody shame, not asking for details. Somebody’s slipping,” he remarked pointedly at Angel.
“Psychics are working on traces in the area. They picked up images of a mine shaft, but nothing is marked up there. Hasn’t been for years.”
“There has to be something,” Angel growled.
Spike watched his Sire. “That’s rough, mate. ’Cause lost in the mountains this long without water? Doesn’t look good for this missing bloke.”
“I’ll find him before that,” Angel declared.
“What happens if you get there and he’s dead from dehydration? What are you going to tell the bloke looking for him?” Spike asked.
**************************
San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Day
John Winchester managed to kill the Wendigo that had made the mine its home, but John came out of it with a sprained ankle, and his canteen was getting low on water. He needed pain killers for his leg and abdomen, and his back was killing him; courtesy of having been slammed into a rock wall. When that happened, he'd unfortunately landed heavily on his cell phone, smashing it, so he couldn’t call anyone for help. He decided that the moral of this little excursion was: carry more than one cell phone with you at all times.
John flipped the switch on his flashlight, but nothing happened, other than a pathetic click.
“Damn it,” John cursed, hobbling toward the speck of daylight he could make out, up ahead. He hoped there were no obstacles between where he was, and his destination, for him to stumble over, because he wasn't sure he'd be able to get up again.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Lab, Day
Fred examined a photo of a topographical map that displayed the land mass more clearly. It showed any cliffs, rivers, streams, and vegetation in the mountains. Lorne peered at the screen from over her shoulder.
“This map has all the mines marked,” Fred commented.
“Tick-tock, Angel,” Spike said. “This late in the day, with that many mines, and a missing person with little or no water?”
“I’m at the DMV, searching for the truck that was last seen by a traffic camera going up the San Gabriel mountain road,” Wesley reported to Angel.
“We’re networked to traffic cameras?” Gunn asked, surprised.
“Yep,” Wesley replied distractedly.
“I’ll look at the cameras,” Gunn offered. “You get set to run with it if I find a match. ’Course I might leak it to the Senior Partners, ’cause we’re tight like that.”
“Just do it,” Wesley groused.
Spike hovered around Fred. “You know, luv, a lot of fuss over one guy. Other things to do around here - important things.”
Angel glared at his mate. “You know that whoosh thing that you do when you’re suddenly not there anymore? I love that.”
“10:19 four nights ago, 1986 GMC Sierra Grande 4x4, went up the canyon road, toward the mines.” Gunn handed Angel a print out of the last traffic camera shot of the truck.
“That’s it?” Angel asked.
“License number: C5G 8R3. No real address. Seems to be a drop box in Colorado,” Wesley said. “But his name is Elroy McGillicuddy.”
Angel smirked at the fake name.
**************************
San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night
John finally stumbled out of the cave after dusk descended over the land. Before pitch black made it impossible to see anything, he built a small fire using the Zippo in his coat pocket. Pulling up his pant leg, he examined the swelling of his ankle by firelight. It was nothing but dark shadows on his skin. He groaned at the condition he was in, lying back on his makeshift bedroll, and staring up at the twinkling stars.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Garage, Dusk
The team spent all day narrowing down which mines to explore first. The elevator doors opened to the garage, and Angel chose his old 1967 Plymouth GTX to drive; considering who he was looking for, he didn’t want to appear ostentatious. Once he got in, shutting the door, Spike materialized in the passenger seat beside him.
“So, decided to take the ol’ Angel-mobile out for a drive before she becomes a rusted bucket of bolts?” Spike asked conversationally.
Angel rolled his eyes. “You’ve become more annoying than usual, since you became a ghost.”
“How else am I going to get Fred to work on making me flesh and blood again if I don’t pester her?” Spike inquired. “So, where are we headed?”
“Why don’t you pick up the map and find out?” Angel asked, striving to be equally annoying.
Spike held up his hands, trying to touch the dashboard, only to have his fingers disappear. “I can’t.”
“Then, you’ll just have to sit there and see where I’m going,” Angel told him, starting the car and pulling out of his personal parking spot, speeding into the darkness of the world he knew.
**************************
New Mexico-Arizona Border, Night
The Impala’s engine purred as it sped down the highway. Dean Winchester had been driving ever since he hung up with Angel. He merged onto the I-10 West passing through New Mexico, and crossing into Arizona. Classic rock blared through the speakers, and he was singing along to Bob Seger’s Against the Wind when his phone rang.
Dean pulled out his phone, glancing at the caller ID: Angel. He answered it.
“Dean? It’s me, Angel. We figured out a general location for your dad. I’m in the car, on my way there.”
After Angel rattled off the location of the starting point of the search, Dean hung up, put the pedal, literally, to the metal, and displayed blatant disregard for the posted speed limit.
**************************
Los Angeles, Highway, Night
Angel hung up with Dean, groaning, when he heard Spike hum in an ‘uh-huh’ way.
“What?” Angel asked.
“So, who is the bloke we’re looking for? Who’s dad is he?” Spike asked curiously.
“Drop it, Spike,” Angel warned.
“It’s a long drive to wherever we’re headed. There’s only so many channels on the radio and your jalopy doesn’t play CDs. So, let’s talk. Who’s father are we looking for?” Spike pressed.
Angel growled as he drove on, a determined expression on his face.
**************************
San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night
John just discovered the trail leading back to the main road when he heard footsteps coming toward him. A male voice with a British accent was talking nonstop. John tightened his fingers around the grip of his gun at his side and readied himself to shoot if he was accosted. He rounded the corner of vegetation and saw, by moonlight, a dark-haired guy about Dean’s height, and another person who was a few inches shorter.
“John Winchester?” the dark-haired one inquired.
John cocked his weapon at his side. “Yes?”
“Your son, Dean, called me, asked me to look for you,” Angel said. “I’m Angel.” He glanced at his companion. “This is Spike.”
“Angel,” John relaxed a little finally recognizing a voice he hadn’t heard in years. The guarded tension left his body when he heard that Dean had sent them. “Where’s Dean?”
“He’s on his way here, from Texas,” Angel informed him as they stopped in front him.
“So, you’re the infamous John Winchester,” Spike commented.
“How do you know who I am?” John asked, suspicious of the blonde man’s tone.
“You don’t kill a horde of demons without making waves. Besides,” Spike shrugged and gestured towards Angel. “I’m mated to the bastard. It’s not like he can keep a secret from me for long.”
It took a minute for Spike’s words to sink in, and he groaned.
“Did you kill the monster you came hunting for?” Angel asked, ignoring Spike.
John looked skeptically between the two men before answering. “Yes. I killed him. Got a lot of aches and pains in the process.” John rotated his shoulders as if he could work out the kinks.
“Then what do you say we get off this mountain?” Angel suggested, turning to lead the way down the trail, John limping after him.
**************************
San Gabriel Mountains, Los Angeles, California, Night
Angel, Spike, and John made it down to the highway just as a black 1967 Chevrolet Impala jerked to a halt, tires screeching. The engine died, and Dean jumped out of the car.
“Dad!? Are you okay?” Dean asked worriedly, hurrying over to them. John stood still, his injured ankle causing him to favor the leg.
“Yeah, Dean. I’m fine,” John said gruffly, trying not to reveal pain in his face or voice. He turned to Angel and Spike. “Thanks for coming to check on me - even if my son here got a little anxious.”
“Not a problem, John,” Angel said.
Dean took his father's wrist, of the hand not holding the gun, drawing John's arm around his neck, helping him to the truck. “Are you sure you can drive, Dad?”
“Yeah. The motel isn’t far from here,” John assured him.
“Thanks again, for looking for him,” Dean said.
Angel nodded, watching as Dean helped John hobble to the old beat up truck.
“It’s sort of nice to know there are decent normal people out there, helping us fight the evil-demon population,” Spike remarked, watching John get into the truck, and Dean, into the Impala.
“Yeah. They are a good family. Let’s get back home. It’s been a long night,” Angel said, turning and going back to his car, getting in and gunning the engine.
**************************
Los Angeles, Wolfram & Hart, Fred’s Office, Night
When they returned, Angel said a dismissive goodnight before going up to his penthouse apartment, leaving an otherworldly Spike to his own devices, in his office.
Spike wandered around the firm for a while, getting acquainted with the place, and somehow found himself in Fred’s darkened office. He turned toward the soft sound of her footsteps.
Fred walked into her office, after a conversation with Wesley, turning on the light and giving a small gasp of surprise when she saw Spike standing in the corner, barely visible.
“Spike, I’ve been looking for you,” Fred remarked breathlessly. “You were there again, where you go when you’re not - here.”
Spike had half-a-mind to tell her that he’d been with Angel this whole time, but thought better of it. “I was there. Nowhere really.” In the middle of the mountains looking for a hunter. “I didn’t think I was coming back.”
“But you did,” Fred laughed nervously. “Mostly. But still, you’re here.”
“Last gasp before eternal fire and brimstone,” Spike commented dryly. “Let’s party.”
“We have to tell Angel,” Fred insisted.
“No,” Spike said in a tone of finality.
“But he could do something, talk to the Senior Partners,” Fred suggested.
“I said no, Fred,” Spike bit out.
Fred squared her shoulders. “Okay, then I’m going to help you. Well, I - I don’t know exactly, but I am going to find a way to bring you back, really bring you back. I promise.”
Spike’s form became more visible, until it looked like he was flesh and blood she could reach out and touch. “Well, all right, then. No need to be dramatic.”
**************************
Best Western/Glendora Inn, Glendora, California, Night
“Why’d you call Angel into this?” John asked gruffly, watching his son raise his pant leg in order to examine his swollen ankle.
“Would you I rather left you out there in the mountains to die?” Dean asked angrily, none-too-gently settling the ice pack he'd made from a motel washcloth, and ice from the machine outside, on the injured limb.
John hissed. “I was fine - until the Wendigo tripped me up, but I killed it, and made it out of there.”
“You were in the mountains with a broken cell phone. If I hadn’t called Angel, you may very well have still been there until the next person who decided to take a hike, discovered your bones.”
“Damn it, Dean -”
“Damn it, Dad,” Dean mimicked. “Sam’s off at college. You and I are all we have left of this family. Be reckless all you want, on your own, but take more than one cell phone in case I can’t call anyone to save your ass.”
John sighed. “Fine.”
“Fine.” Dean echoed, before turning out the light and falling into the empty bed across from John’s bed.