My Immortal. Chapter 7.
It might please you to hear that the DIY project that won't end, will soon be done... Here's to hoping that I'll have more time for writing! *crosses fingers*
Previous chapters here! As usual lots of thanks to my fabulous beta, kathyh!
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: 5200 words approx.
Feedback: Yes please!!!!!
Chapter 7
Andrew: The Immortal's cool and all, but he ain't all that. He's got his flaws.
Tuesday 6th April, midday.
The Disney-like feel of the garden was even more pronounced than Buffy had previously thought. As she explored, she kept expecting to come across small, fluffy, talking animals amongst the manicured hedges and immaculate lawns.
Instead she happened upon a fountain with a very beautiful, and very naked, bronze Adonis - slick and oddly lifelike from the water washing over him - and she couldn’t help smiling.
Her fairy tale was most certainly X-rated...
She was aching in places she’d forgotten that she could ache, and she still felt like she was walking on air. Why had she wasted almost a whole week before sleeping with The Immortal?
Which was a hopelessly shallow thought, but it couldn’t be helped. And focussing on the shallow stuff stopped her from thinking about the talk they’d had earlier, which made her head feel like it was in freefall.
He’d not only met Spike and Angel, he was jealous of her...
No, she still couldn’t actually absorb it. Her friends had learned to accept her ‘peculiar’ relationships, but this - this was just incredible. And somewhat freaky. It wasn’t until she’d been in the bath (gold taps! Or at least what looked like gold taps!) that it had struck her that between them they’d slept with the whole of the Scourge of Europe, and there were probably no other two people in the world who could make that claim. At least no one still alive.
Once again the fact had been cemented that her life was never going to be anything resembling normal - and, for the first time in a long while, she felt that maybe that was a good thing.
Then her phone rang, shaking her out of her thoughts. Guiltily thinking it was probably Dawn, she replied immediately, and heard Willow’s chirpy voice.
“Buffy! So, how are things?”
“Willow! Things are...” she looked around at the idyll surrounding her on all sides and almost laughed. “Things are great. But isn’t it awfully early for you?”
“Nah. OK, totally, but I had to get up at the crack of dawn to do a spell, so I thought - hey I’ll call Buffy and ask about her hot date! See how sneakily I added that?”
This time she actually laughed. “Very sneaky. And what do you want to know?”
“Well... Dawn was all coy and hint-y and wouldn’t say anything except that he was taking you out ‘stargazing’.”
Buffy smirked. “Well that was true. We did go out stargazing. Only it also included a night time picnic with amazing food. But we looked at the stars too - he’s like a walking, talking starry encyclopaedia, and he’s promised that he’ll take me to an observatory so I can see the stars properly.” She stopped briefly, then decided to clarify. “When I say encyclopaedia, I mean a really, really hot, charming, tall, drop-dead gorgeous, blue-eyed encyclopaedia, with, like, tons of personality. Actually he has so much personality that I’m sure there are thousands of personality-deprived people out there, because he got so much more than his share.”
“Wow. Well he certainly sounds like a fabulous guy to investigate.”
For a few moments Buffy felt utterly thrown, until she remembered her initial date with Robin... and the next second she realised that this was all Dawn’s doing, because of that thing with Marco. She was so going to pay for this... after she’d explained things to Willow.
Oh great.
“Willow... I’m not investigating. I’m dating. I mean, I did investigate, and he’s not evil. Really, he isn’t!”
“Well that’s... good. So, um... how long have you known him?”
“A week? A... uh... very intense week.”
Oh god, she could just imagine how this was coming across. But there was nothing to do now but get through it. She was stupidly grateful that Willow was half a world away.
“Must have been a lot of investigating.” And Willow was still queen of the simple, and yet incredibly loaded, statement. But she continued too quickly for Buffy to call her on it. “So, go on - tell me everything! I tried to look him up, but there’s nothing concrete about his background at all - it’s like he just appeared from nowhere. Andrew said that he sent an e-mail with all the info he’d dug up, but I never got it.”
Buffy made a dismissive sound. “Andrew is hopeless - I think I did more research than he did. Although there isn’t a lot in the books as you said.”
“So I guess you’ve got the inside scoop, huh?” The curiosity in Willow’s voice was palpable. “Who is he?”
“He...” Thinking back over the things he’d told her, Buffy realised that she could not pinpoint a single tangible fact. He’d been a soldier, but not said when or where. Nor mentioned how old he was. Or where he was from. Or what exactly he was, because he wasn’t exactly ‘ordinary’ - for a start no man she’d ever met smelled that good...
Focus Buffy, focus!
“He’s just The Immortal,” she ended up saying, somewhat lamely, because there really was nothing else to say. The things she did know, she couldn’t tell.
There was a pause at the other end of the line, and she could just picture Willow’s face. She braced herself for what might come.
“O...kay.” Another pause. “Buffy... please don’t take this the wrong way, but... are you sure it’s not a love-spell? I’m not saying it is, but...”
Buffy sighed. “He never uses magic. And no, that’s not a clever story he puts out to cover up all the magic that he actually uses, I did think of that. There’s not a trace of magic anywhere. He doesn’t like it - really, really doesn’t like it. Also - “ she smiled a little, “-if it was a love spell, I would be in love, which I’m not.”
“Oh... You... you’re being careful right? I don’t want to sound paranoid but... there are... stories.”
And now she was coming over as an impulsive slut... Head-over-heels-falling-in-love was one thing, but just falling into bed with someone because they were hot was cheap. Of course it wasn’t cheap in The Immortal’s world... to him it was the only logical course of action, but Buffy’s friends didn’t know The Immortal’s world...
She sighed again.
“Look, Willow. It’s just... What if you were single and you met the most perfect person in the world and you could date him - or her - with absolutely no strings?”
Praying that Willow would get it, the sudden voice in her other ear almost made her jump.
“Well for a start strings would never hold you. I’m thinking reinforced rope or possibly handcuffs!”
Giving a yelp of surprise she turned sharply and looked straight into The Immortal’s teasing eyes. “You!” she said, and he backed away, chuckling as she glared at him. “Don’t you dare.”
“What?” he asked innocently. “Come on - there is no way you’re not into bondage.”
Praying that Willow couldn’t pick up what he was saying she gave him her best evil look. “I am on the phone to my best friend! You will go away and let me talk in private.”
“What’s happening?” Willow asked, and Buffy gritted her teeth. “Just The Immortal being impossible!”
“I thought you said he was perfect?”
“Perfectly annoying at times.” He was still just grinning, so unapologetic that she was very tempted to smack him. Or push him into the fountain. Although she was sure he wouldn’t mind...
“You know, my friend doesn’t think I should trust you,” she said pointedly, and he tilted his head, eyes brimming with mischief.
“Really? Is she threatening to do horrible things to me if I hurt you?”
Buffy shrugged. “Not yet, but she’s getting there. And she really could do horrible things - she’s a very powerful witch.”
“Is she now?” There was amusement in his voice still, but a sharper side shone through. "I don’t trust witches - sorry. Matter of principle.”
Even though she knew that she ought to be on Willow’s side, she couldn’t help but smirk as she repeated his words to her friend.
There was another silence. “I just... I just want you to take care, OK? I mean - no one knows anything about him. There aren’t even any photos.”
“Oh I can fix that!” Buffy said, holding up her shiny new phone with built-in camera, but found The Immortal’s hand closing over the lens a second later.
“No,” he said calmly, but with great finality. “No photos. Invite her round by all means, but no photos.”
“She’s in South America!”
He shrugged. “I’ll pay for the tickets. Is she cute?”
Buffy scowled. “She’s gay.”
Another dazzling grin. “That’s just because she’s not met me yet.”
“She has a girlfriend!” This was getting annoying, but clearly he wasn’t in the mood to take a hint.
“Hmmm... open relationship?”
“No!”
There was a pause in which he seemed to weigh up the options. “I’m thinking hidden camera in their room.”
“OK, that’s it - Go. Away.” She pointed towards the house, ignoring the puppy-like look on his face.
“But this is my garden!”
“Go!”
He laughed, moved to her side with something approaching vampire speed and planted a kiss on the cheek not taken up with the cell.
“I’ll be in the library,” he said, winking, and left, Buffy taking a slow breath to calm herself.
“OK, he’s gone,” she said, dropping down on a bench. “Please... don’t worry about it. I know it sounds crazy, but he’s just what I need right now, OK? If you met him, you’d understand.”
But in Willow’s unsure silence she could feel the past climbing up around them, like Sleeping Beauty’s wall of thorns, and was too tired to even begin to explain how this one man had just walked through the whole thing like the fairy tale prince.
“Oh - sorry Buffy, have to run. Time for my spell. Speak to you later, OK?”
“OK.” Turning off the cell Buffy felt tired and drained and with the distinct impression that her friend hadn’t understood a thing. Obviously if one part of her life decided to work perfectly, the other parts got screwed up.
Slowly she made her way to the library. Seeing her, The Immortal closed a laptop and stood up from the desk where he’d been sitting.
“So, how’d it go?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s just say that my ‘amazing’ taste in men isn’t doing me any favours right now.”
He chuckled and pulled her close. “Guess she’ll have to learn to accept it. Although I guess it’s good that she cares?”
“Yeah... sometimes I wish my friends would care a little less. Or trust me more.”
“As I said... they’re more than welcome to visit. I have plenty of room, and I promise not to have any hidden cameras.”
The grin on his face was not at all reassuring, and she made a noncommittal noise.
“Anyway, I have to get going...”
He sighed, gently stroking her hair.
"Thought that might be the case. And I’ve got plenty of work to do myself...”
Eyes narrowing, she studied him. “You know, I remember you saying that you came here to get away from work. What’s the deal?”
Laughing he tightened his grip around her waist, forcing her to tilt her head further back to look at him. “Oh that’s the problem with dating smart people - they ask smart questions.”
“Let me guess - it’s secret and immortal...”
His grin widened even more. “Got it in one. Basically I’m doing some friends a favour, since it would kill anyone else. I’d show you, but... it really would kill you. Permanently.”
“Figures.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. But - whenever you want me, just call. Any time.”
There was something in his voice, his eyes, and the laughter was mostly gone.
“Any time...” she repeated slowly, and he nodded.
“I don’t sleep. You want me, I’ll be there. Seems the least I can do.”
Taking in all the things implied in his words, she couldn’t do anything except hold onto him silently, burying her face in his shirt and his wonderful smell.
He was perfect, and right now that was all that mattered.
Later the same afternoon.
Jack was sitting in the captain’s chair of the Ettian ship, his feet on the main control panel and a screwdriver in his hand. He ought to be working, but instead he’d switched on the starmap and was trying to lose himself in the sight of endless galaxies spread out before him on the screen. It wasn’t working however - his head was refusing to let go of the myriad of thoughts that were attacking him from every angle.
- What if there was a major emergency in Cardiff while he was gone? Should he ask UNIT for some extra personnel? (He kept coming back to this one. It’d be painful for Tosh, annoying for Suzie, but he’d rather have them upset than killed.)
- Was Angel a threat?
- Just how much sex could two people have in a month?
- How soon could Tosh construct a de-radiation machine? (He had to leave his mobile outside the shield, a situation that was getting increasingly annoying.)
- Marco - he had to check out Dawn’s Marco.
- Should he invite Buffy’s friends to visit? He didn’t want her to get any more grief, so a visit might be a good idea...
- Why wasn’t he listed in the ship’s intergalactic ‘wanted’ list? Sure he wasn’t in that game anymore, but his professional pride was a little hurt.
- Maybe he could throw a proper ball for Buffy? He had a feeling she’d enjoy being Cinderella for a night.
- Why had Angel decided to work for Wolfram & Hart?
- And was there any way of making an Ettian screwdriver more sonic?
The last thought made him smile, before he told himself firmly to just start working. Grateful for small mercies, he appreciated that fact that the ship wasn’t very large, having been built primarily for fast travel and exploration.
Soon however he was interrupted by a lengthy phone call with Tosh - the first of many as they threw ideas and possibilities back and forth - and then he was subjected to a long and dreary call from a UNIT general who insisted on going over every single point in his report in great detail, as the general tried to determine where the different pieces would be of best use, Jack desperately wishing he could think of an excuse to say goodbye.
Standing around in the Italian sunshine wasn’t exactly a chore, but the interruptions were frustrating nonetheless. And yet he couldn’t switch the phone off, because he knew that this would mean a sudden crisis in Cardiff...
Much to his chagrin, the one problem his mind wouldn’t leave alone was Angel. He’d much rather dwell on all the delights of Buffy, but his mind continued to jump straight back to the vampire.
Attempting to see him through Buffy’s eyes, Jack had noticed something important. The emotion behind the anger and the unwillingness to speak was an emotion he knew all too well: Betrayal. Whoever Angel had become, in Buffy’s eyes his choice to work for W&H was a betrayal of the man she had known.
Not that the parallels to his own feelings in connection with the Doctor’s actions went very far - Buffy knew where Angel was, could go and demand her answers any time she wanted. But she hadn’t - it was clear that she was waiting for him to explain himself to her... And this spoke of a very interesting dynamic to their relationship, not dissimilar to what he’d gleaned of her time with Spike. Maybe it was something inherent to the nature of Slayer/vampire relations? Or maybe it was just that Buffy was naturally the boss of any relationship?
He was thrown out of his musings when his phone rang yet again and he had to focus on the finer points of radioactive breakdown.
And still, the second Tosh hung up his thoughts leapt straight back to the point they’d been before - why had Angel signed up with Wolfram & Hart? What could they possibly have offered him?
Looking sternly at the panel in front of him, he pushed the Angel problem out of his head and tried to concentrate on the immediate challenges. The vampire would have to wait.
Late evening.
The ornate clock on the mantelpiece declared the time to be five minutes to midnight, but - despite being tired out from the day’s work - Jack felt ready to tackle his latest problem.
Making sure all the servants had gone for the night, he sat down on the large leather sofa in the main living room with his laptop and a large mug of hot coffee. Embers glowed in the fireplace, colouring the room, and it was one of those times where he felt keen appreciation of creature comforts.
Out of habit he first checked his e-mail and saw that Tosh had sent yet another update on their newest project, but after skimming it quickly he opened the internet and began the delicate task of hacking into W&H’s network.
Once in, it didn’t take long to locate a file named ‘Angel’, although it looked suspiciously small. When he clicked on it, however, he realised with sinking heart realised that it wasn’t a file - it was an archive!
The list of links appeared endless - the material probably taking up more than an entire server on its own. Which raised another question - why on earth was Angel so important to them?
He sighed deeply, knowing that he had neither the time, nor the interest, to spend a fortnight reading through everything. Surely there was a short version somewhere, some sort of ‘Quick Guide to Angel’? After a little further search he found it, mentally thanking the poor sap who’d had to write it.
Even so the document seemed endless, and he swiftly jumped forward until Buffy’s name caught his eye. Soon he was engrossed in a story far more incredible than he’d dare guess at. He didn’t notice his legs cramping, or his back aching as he followed Angel through his adventures - from Sunnydale and Buffy to LA, the twists and turns spellbinding.
And then, out of the blue, Wolfram & Hart offered him a top job... which he took.
No explanation; no clue whatsoever to what could possibly have swayed his mind.
Jack frowned and slowly stretched, dimly noticing feeling return to cramped limbs, as he turned the strange situation over in his mind.
The law firm had fought Angel for all that time - the man could be under no illusions as to what they were. It was... it was almost like his own story in reverse...
His first act, as leader of Torchwood Cardiff, had been to sever all links with Torchwood London. He didn’t like them, or their methods, or their aims. Was still pissed off that they continued to blatantly ignore his repeated warnings about spending a minor fortune messing with random holes in the universe... Still, despite their stuck-up attitude, their mission was to help and further mankind. They weren’t evil. But Wolfram & Hart were most definitely as bad as it was possible to get.
It made no sense. Neither did the law firm’s focus on this one vampire.
Searching around in the links archive, he finally unearthed a document detailing a prophecy that made their motives clearer. Although surely Angel would be familiar with it too?
Too tired to begin reading about Angel’s tenure as CEO, he instead decided to look up his team members, wanting to put faces to names.
He found them in a folder that also contained the vampire’s family, and, curious, pressed the link for Spike, wanting to see how The Evil Empire described the vampire who’d won a soul for himself.
The image that greeted him left him slightly slack jawed for a moment - the blond hair and black coat, perfectly offsetting those eyes... by the lost wonder of Arcadia, talk about a man finding a look that worked. How on earth had Buffy stopped herself from jumping him the first time their paths had crossed?
Telling himself to focus, he started reading - and was hit by a far greater shock.
Spike was alive?
Utterly stunned he read every word he could find, emerging much later feeling dizzy and shaky.
Spike was alive. And Spike had stayed in LA instead of going to Buffy... helping Angel, although thankfully not joining up with W&H. But why? Why stay?
A million new questions were presenting themselves, but whilst he could make guesses - Angel and Spike were family, and, as he knew far too well, an immortal could never offer a mortal a real life - he needed more information. Not just on the Spike side of things, but also when it came to Angel’s operation - he was disinclined to take Wolfram & Hart’s reports at face value.
Then he slowly smiled, as he realised that he knew just who to ask.
Wednesday 7th April, dawn.
A persistent knocking on Andrew’s door made him drag himself out of bed, head still asleep. If it was that insane octogenarian from downstairs he’d put a Jedi curse on her or something. How dearly he wished that his Italian was better, and that she wasn’t quite so deaf...
But opening the door his head woke up with a sharp jolt, as his heart suddenly fluttered. On his doorstep stood The Immortal, looking stunningly immaculate and crisp, even at this ungodly hour.
(Of course he was looking immaculate. He was not anything resembling an ordinary person, with ordinary flaws and problems.)
“Can I come in?” he asked, and then proceeded to walk past Andrew without waiting for an answer.
“Of course...” he said, feebly, watching as The Immortal slowly took in his flat, eyes trailing over the posters and various paraphernalia, before he chose the largest armchair to sit in.
“Would... would you like some coffee?” Andrew asked, unsure what to do or say.
“Sounds good,” The Immortal answered, and Andrew rushed into the kitchen, turning on the kettle and getting out the best mugs, hands shaking.
A few minutes later he brought the drinks through, and The Immortal looked up and smiled, before taking a cup from Andrew’s hand and taking a sip.
“Not bad,” he pronounced, and Andrew felt his cheeks burn again. As he carefully lifted his own cup, The Immortal tilted his head, his smile turning into something Andrew couldn’t quite figure out.
“You know, I’ve been wondering - how come you never told Buffy that Spike is alive?”
The cup fell from Andrew’s hands, shattering against the floor and throwing hot brown liquid all over his feet, but he barely registered it.
“Wha... what?”
“You must have met him, when you went over to deal with Dana - she cut off his hands after all.”
“But how... how do you...”
The other man shrugged; a smugly superior look on his face. “I’m The Immortal. I guess you could say it’s my job to know things.”
“Uh... okay...” It was impossible. OK, so not impossible, but...
“So - why did you never tell Buffy?” The Immortal continued, unperturbed. “She is quite clearly still heartbroken, and I can’t imagine that you’re the type to keep lovers from each other.”
“He... he asked me not to tell. Said he’d do it himself, just... he just didn’t know how.”
The Immortal looked thoughtful. “True... it can be a little awkward explaining non-death.”
"Would you... would you mind...” Andrew feebly indicated the broken cup and cooling coffee, and The Immortal shook his head. Cleaning up as quickly as possible, Andrew could feel his heart beating too hard. What did he want?
Settling himself down again, and trying to keep his voice calm, he asked. “Was that all you wanted?”
The Immortal chuckled, still blowing on his coffee. “Not quite. I need you to tell me about Angel - his organisation, his team, his objectives in as much as you know them, and - of course - what Spike is up to. Everything you saw, everything you found out. Feel free to throw in anything you know about Buffy.”
“I... I don’t know if...” The Immortal’s smile was perfectly pleasant, and yet there was a look in the back of his eyes, an edge to his voice, that made Andrew feel distinctly nervous.
“It’ll all be confidential of course,” The Immortal said, and Andrew squirmed.
“I - I shouldn’t... Buffy wouldn’t - I shouldn’t go behind her back...”
The Immortal sighed. “Your loyalty is very... laudable, but asking Buffy herself would upset her. So - I ask you.” Noticing Andrew’s worried expression, he shrugged. “If you’re really that worried about it, I could wipe your memory afterwards?”
Andrew’s eyes widened. It wasn’t so much the idea itself, as the casual way in which it was said... and the implications...
“But... but I thought you never used magic.”
The Immortal threw up his free hand in frustration. “What is with you people? It’s always magic or nothing, which is just such a... limited outlook. Trust me, there are far more reliable and safe ways of manipulating the world.”
He sat back, his eyes hard and grey blue like sheet steel. “Now, will you please just talk, or do I have to force you? I’m not doing this for fun. Angelus is my old archnemesis - his stupid idea, not mine - and I need to asses the level of threat that he now poses. You are the only one here who’s been to LA and has seen what kinda show he’s running now. So spill.”
Andrew was not unused to being threatened, and yet...
There was barely a hint of anger, and certainly no hate or scorn in The Immortal’s voice - just tiredness and stubbornness; the same determination he saw in the Slayers’ eyes when, after a long night, yet another vampire showed up. There was nothing personal in this, just an unwavering resolve to get what he wanted. And somehow this was scary on a whole new level. He could still remember all the stories he’d read - back before he’d picked up the book and decided that obviously whoever had written the stories about how The Immortal served no master but his own interests, good or bad as the case might be, was a sad, jealous loser. How could he have forgotten that sad, jealous losers often had a point?
But The Immortal set down his empty cup, folded his arms, and kept a calm, steadfast and very unnerving eye on Andrew.
Despite himself, Andrew started to talk. And really - he wasn’t telling any secrets as such, just relating what had happened in LA. As he spoke, he discovered that there was something immensely gratifying about having the man’s undivided attention - a situation he’d never dared to dream of.
Finally however, after what seemed like a mesmerising eternity which included a lot of odd and shrewd follow-up questions, The Immortal got up to leave.
But instead of heading for the door he turned to Andrew, eyes musing, and brought up his hand cradle Andrew’s neck.
“You know, you have been incredibly helpful. I think you might deserve a reward.”
Andrew felt like his insides had suddenly turned liquid. The Immortal’s hand was warm and gentle against his skin, and far too intimate - and there was a strange look in his eyes as they travelled over him... Oh god, oh god, he couldn’t breathe, and he’d never been kissed or... anything... and what about Buffy...
But none of the imagined scenarios unfolded. Instead The Immortal tilted his head, then withdrew his hand, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I presume you’re familiar with London?”
Andrew nodded silently, too befuddled to formulate a reply, and the other smiled. “Good. Listen carefully, because you’re going to have to memorise this - no writing things down.” His eyes grew distant for a moment, then he continued. “16th April 2005 - so just over a year from now - South bank of the Thames, across from the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben specifically. Get there fairly early, bring a video camera - or preferably two, just in case, and plenty of spare batteries. Tripods might be good too. Make sure you have an uninterrupted view of Big Ben, film continuously. Got it?”
“Wha... what? Do you... do you know the future?”
There was that odd look again - the one he couldn’t read at all. “I’m The Immortal, I know many things. As I said, it’s my job.”
“But what happens?”
The Immortal chuckled. “Telling you that would spoil the surprise, don’t you think? Now - repeat it all back to me.”
Haltingly he did so, The Immortal making him repeat every detail until he was sure it wouldn’t be forgotten. Then, a calculating look in his eyes, The Immortal bit his lip.
“You know... you can do me a favour at the same time and deliver a message to Buffy once it’s time. See for a little while things will seem very grim - tell her not to worry, not to get involved. There will be people fixing it.”
“You?”
The Immortal shook his head, trying not to smile even though his eyes suddenly looked sad. “Oh no, not me. As a matter of fact I’ll be staying as far away as possible.” There was an awkward pause, then he continued.
“Anyway, I should be going. But - for the record - I was never here, and we never had this conversation, understood?”
“Uh.. yeah. Obviously,” Andrew nodded, but then couldn’t help asking - needing to reassert himself somehow and stop feeling... exploited.
“Do you usually lie to your girlfriends?”
The Immortal raised his eyebrows; looking not surprised, but matter-of-fact.
“I lie to everyone,” he replied, a statement Andrew realised might be the closest he’d ever get to knowing the truth of the man. He stood still, mutely watching as his guest made for the door.
But, as The Immortal’s hand was on the handle, a smile curved the corner of his mouth and he turned his head.
“Oh and Andrew?” The voice was teasing now, almost fond.
“Yes?” he answered, unsure, heart suddenly beating rapidly again.
“Do everyone a favour and get yourself a boyfriend!”
Then, with a wink and a swift grin The Immortal left, the too-charming-to-be-true image burned into Andrew’s mind.
***
Back in the car, Jack turned over the new information in his head. To tell Buffy or not - that was the question. On the one hand she deserved to know, and the look on her face would be incredible! But on the other... on the other was Spike’s own decision. And also the fact that Jack only had Buffy to himself for a few short weeks, and he really didn’t want to shorten his time with her in any way.
No, he’d leave the Spike conundrum alone for now. Perhaps the secret could be a parting gift?
As for Angel... well the man was clearly trying to use his new power for good. Maybe he was trying to beat the bad guys at their own game? Or... or the whole thing was a Trojan horse deal. In either case Angel was unlikely to come running to Rome to settle old scores. Jack just had to keep a low profile and make sure the vampire didn’t discover that he was dating Buffy.
Although surely he couldn’t still be as jealously possessive...
Chapter 8
Previous chapters here! As usual lots of thanks to my fabulous beta, kathyh!
Pairing: Buffy/Jack.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: S2 of Torchwood.
Genre: Crossover. (BtVS/Torchwood)
Word count: 5200 words approx.
Feedback: Yes please!!!!!
Chapter 7
Andrew: The Immortal's cool and all, but he ain't all that. He's got his flaws.
Tuesday 6th April, midday.
The Disney-like feel of the garden was even more pronounced than Buffy had previously thought. As she explored, she kept expecting to come across small, fluffy, talking animals amongst the manicured hedges and immaculate lawns.
Instead she happened upon a fountain with a very beautiful, and very naked, bronze Adonis - slick and oddly lifelike from the water washing over him - and she couldn’t help smiling.
Her fairy tale was most certainly X-rated...
She was aching in places she’d forgotten that she could ache, and she still felt like she was walking on air. Why had she wasted almost a whole week before sleeping with The Immortal?
Which was a hopelessly shallow thought, but it couldn’t be helped. And focussing on the shallow stuff stopped her from thinking about the talk they’d had earlier, which made her head feel like it was in freefall.
He’d not only met Spike and Angel, he was jealous of her...
No, she still couldn’t actually absorb it. Her friends had learned to accept her ‘peculiar’ relationships, but this - this was just incredible. And somewhat freaky. It wasn’t until she’d been in the bath (gold taps! Or at least what looked like gold taps!) that it had struck her that between them they’d slept with the whole of the Scourge of Europe, and there were probably no other two people in the world who could make that claim. At least no one still alive.
Once again the fact had been cemented that her life was never going to be anything resembling normal - and, for the first time in a long while, she felt that maybe that was a good thing.
Then her phone rang, shaking her out of her thoughts. Guiltily thinking it was probably Dawn, she replied immediately, and heard Willow’s chirpy voice.
“Buffy! So, how are things?”
“Willow! Things are...” she looked around at the idyll surrounding her on all sides and almost laughed. “Things are great. But isn’t it awfully early for you?”
“Nah. OK, totally, but I had to get up at the crack of dawn to do a spell, so I thought - hey I’ll call Buffy and ask about her hot date! See how sneakily I added that?”
This time she actually laughed. “Very sneaky. And what do you want to know?”
“Well... Dawn was all coy and hint-y and wouldn’t say anything except that he was taking you out ‘stargazing’.”
Buffy smirked. “Well that was true. We did go out stargazing. Only it also included a night time picnic with amazing food. But we looked at the stars too - he’s like a walking, talking starry encyclopaedia, and he’s promised that he’ll take me to an observatory so I can see the stars properly.” She stopped briefly, then decided to clarify. “When I say encyclopaedia, I mean a really, really hot, charming, tall, drop-dead gorgeous, blue-eyed encyclopaedia, with, like, tons of personality. Actually he has so much personality that I’m sure there are thousands of personality-deprived people out there, because he got so much more than his share.”
“Wow. Well he certainly sounds like a fabulous guy to investigate.”
For a few moments Buffy felt utterly thrown, until she remembered her initial date with Robin... and the next second she realised that this was all Dawn’s doing, because of that thing with Marco. She was so going to pay for this... after she’d explained things to Willow.
Oh great.
“Willow... I’m not investigating. I’m dating. I mean, I did investigate, and he’s not evil. Really, he isn’t!”
“Well that’s... good. So, um... how long have you known him?”
“A week? A... uh... very intense week.”
Oh god, she could just imagine how this was coming across. But there was nothing to do now but get through it. She was stupidly grateful that Willow was half a world away.
“Must have been a lot of investigating.” And Willow was still queen of the simple, and yet incredibly loaded, statement. But she continued too quickly for Buffy to call her on it. “So, go on - tell me everything! I tried to look him up, but there’s nothing concrete about his background at all - it’s like he just appeared from nowhere. Andrew said that he sent an e-mail with all the info he’d dug up, but I never got it.”
Buffy made a dismissive sound. “Andrew is hopeless - I think I did more research than he did. Although there isn’t a lot in the books as you said.”
“So I guess you’ve got the inside scoop, huh?” The curiosity in Willow’s voice was palpable. “Who is he?”
“He...” Thinking back over the things he’d told her, Buffy realised that she could not pinpoint a single tangible fact. He’d been a soldier, but not said when or where. Nor mentioned how old he was. Or where he was from. Or what exactly he was, because he wasn’t exactly ‘ordinary’ - for a start no man she’d ever met smelled that good...
Focus Buffy, focus!
“He’s just The Immortal,” she ended up saying, somewhat lamely, because there really was nothing else to say. The things she did know, she couldn’t tell.
There was a pause at the other end of the line, and she could just picture Willow’s face. She braced herself for what might come.
“O...kay.” Another pause. “Buffy... please don’t take this the wrong way, but... are you sure it’s not a love-spell? I’m not saying it is, but...”
Buffy sighed. “He never uses magic. And no, that’s not a clever story he puts out to cover up all the magic that he actually uses, I did think of that. There’s not a trace of magic anywhere. He doesn’t like it - really, really doesn’t like it. Also - “ she smiled a little, “-if it was a love spell, I would be in love, which I’m not.”
“Oh... You... you’re being careful right? I don’t want to sound paranoid but... there are... stories.”
And now she was coming over as an impulsive slut... Head-over-heels-falling-in-love was one thing, but just falling into bed with someone because they were hot was cheap. Of course it wasn’t cheap in The Immortal’s world... to him it was the only logical course of action, but Buffy’s friends didn’t know The Immortal’s world...
She sighed again.
“Look, Willow. It’s just... What if you were single and you met the most perfect person in the world and you could date him - or her - with absolutely no strings?”
Praying that Willow would get it, the sudden voice in her other ear almost made her jump.
“Well for a start strings would never hold you. I’m thinking reinforced rope or possibly handcuffs!”
Giving a yelp of surprise she turned sharply and looked straight into The Immortal’s teasing eyes. “You!” she said, and he backed away, chuckling as she glared at him. “Don’t you dare.”
“What?” he asked innocently. “Come on - there is no way you’re not into bondage.”
Praying that Willow couldn’t pick up what he was saying she gave him her best evil look. “I am on the phone to my best friend! You will go away and let me talk in private.”
“What’s happening?” Willow asked, and Buffy gritted her teeth. “Just The Immortal being impossible!”
“I thought you said he was perfect?”
“Perfectly annoying at times.” He was still just grinning, so unapologetic that she was very tempted to smack him. Or push him into the fountain. Although she was sure he wouldn’t mind...
“You know, my friend doesn’t think I should trust you,” she said pointedly, and he tilted his head, eyes brimming with mischief.
“Really? Is she threatening to do horrible things to me if I hurt you?”
Buffy shrugged. “Not yet, but she’s getting there. And she really could do horrible things - she’s a very powerful witch.”
“Is she now?” There was amusement in his voice still, but a sharper side shone through. "I don’t trust witches - sorry. Matter of principle.”
Even though she knew that she ought to be on Willow’s side, she couldn’t help but smirk as she repeated his words to her friend.
There was another silence. “I just... I just want you to take care, OK? I mean - no one knows anything about him. There aren’t even any photos.”
“Oh I can fix that!” Buffy said, holding up her shiny new phone with built-in camera, but found The Immortal’s hand closing over the lens a second later.
“No,” he said calmly, but with great finality. “No photos. Invite her round by all means, but no photos.”
“She’s in South America!”
He shrugged. “I’ll pay for the tickets. Is she cute?”
Buffy scowled. “She’s gay.”
Another dazzling grin. “That’s just because she’s not met me yet.”
“She has a girlfriend!” This was getting annoying, but clearly he wasn’t in the mood to take a hint.
“Hmmm... open relationship?”
“No!”
There was a pause in which he seemed to weigh up the options. “I’m thinking hidden camera in their room.”
“OK, that’s it - Go. Away.” She pointed towards the house, ignoring the puppy-like look on his face.
“But this is my garden!”
“Go!”
He laughed, moved to her side with something approaching vampire speed and planted a kiss on the cheek not taken up with the cell.
“I’ll be in the library,” he said, winking, and left, Buffy taking a slow breath to calm herself.
“OK, he’s gone,” she said, dropping down on a bench. “Please... don’t worry about it. I know it sounds crazy, but he’s just what I need right now, OK? If you met him, you’d understand.”
But in Willow’s unsure silence she could feel the past climbing up around them, like Sleeping Beauty’s wall of thorns, and was too tired to even begin to explain how this one man had just walked through the whole thing like the fairy tale prince.
“Oh - sorry Buffy, have to run. Time for my spell. Speak to you later, OK?”
“OK.” Turning off the cell Buffy felt tired and drained and with the distinct impression that her friend hadn’t understood a thing. Obviously if one part of her life decided to work perfectly, the other parts got screwed up.
Slowly she made her way to the library. Seeing her, The Immortal closed a laptop and stood up from the desk where he’d been sitting.
“So, how’d it go?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Let’s just say that my ‘amazing’ taste in men isn’t doing me any favours right now.”
He chuckled and pulled her close. “Guess she’ll have to learn to accept it. Although I guess it’s good that she cares?”
“Yeah... sometimes I wish my friends would care a little less. Or trust me more.”
“As I said... they’re more than welcome to visit. I have plenty of room, and I promise not to have any hidden cameras.”
The grin on his face was not at all reassuring, and she made a noncommittal noise.
“Anyway, I have to get going...”
He sighed, gently stroking her hair.
"Thought that might be the case. And I’ve got plenty of work to do myself...”
Eyes narrowing, she studied him. “You know, I remember you saying that you came here to get away from work. What’s the deal?”
Laughing he tightened his grip around her waist, forcing her to tilt her head further back to look at him. “Oh that’s the problem with dating smart people - they ask smart questions.”
“Let me guess - it’s secret and immortal...”
His grin widened even more. “Got it in one. Basically I’m doing some friends a favour, since it would kill anyone else. I’d show you, but... it really would kill you. Permanently.”
“Figures.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. But - whenever you want me, just call. Any time.”
There was something in his voice, his eyes, and the laughter was mostly gone.
“Any time...” she repeated slowly, and he nodded.
“I don’t sleep. You want me, I’ll be there. Seems the least I can do.”
Taking in all the things implied in his words, she couldn’t do anything except hold onto him silently, burying her face in his shirt and his wonderful smell.
He was perfect, and right now that was all that mattered.
Later the same afternoon.
Jack was sitting in the captain’s chair of the Ettian ship, his feet on the main control panel and a screwdriver in his hand. He ought to be working, but instead he’d switched on the starmap and was trying to lose himself in the sight of endless galaxies spread out before him on the screen. It wasn’t working however - his head was refusing to let go of the myriad of thoughts that were attacking him from every angle.
- What if there was a major emergency in Cardiff while he was gone? Should he ask UNIT for some extra personnel? (He kept coming back to this one. It’d be painful for Tosh, annoying for Suzie, but he’d rather have them upset than killed.)
- Was Angel a threat?
- Just how much sex could two people have in a month?
- How soon could Tosh construct a de-radiation machine? (He had to leave his mobile outside the shield, a situation that was getting increasingly annoying.)
- Marco - he had to check out Dawn’s Marco.
- Should he invite Buffy’s friends to visit? He didn’t want her to get any more grief, so a visit might be a good idea...
- Why wasn’t he listed in the ship’s intergalactic ‘wanted’ list? Sure he wasn’t in that game anymore, but his professional pride was a little hurt.
- Maybe he could throw a proper ball for Buffy? He had a feeling she’d enjoy being Cinderella for a night.
- Why had Angel decided to work for Wolfram & Hart?
- And was there any way of making an Ettian screwdriver more sonic?
The last thought made him smile, before he told himself firmly to just start working. Grateful for small mercies, he appreciated that fact that the ship wasn’t very large, having been built primarily for fast travel and exploration.
Soon however he was interrupted by a lengthy phone call with Tosh - the first of many as they threw ideas and possibilities back and forth - and then he was subjected to a long and dreary call from a UNIT general who insisted on going over every single point in his report in great detail, as the general tried to determine where the different pieces would be of best use, Jack desperately wishing he could think of an excuse to say goodbye.
Standing around in the Italian sunshine wasn’t exactly a chore, but the interruptions were frustrating nonetheless. And yet he couldn’t switch the phone off, because he knew that this would mean a sudden crisis in Cardiff...
Much to his chagrin, the one problem his mind wouldn’t leave alone was Angel. He’d much rather dwell on all the delights of Buffy, but his mind continued to jump straight back to the vampire.
Attempting to see him through Buffy’s eyes, Jack had noticed something important. The emotion behind the anger and the unwillingness to speak was an emotion he knew all too well: Betrayal. Whoever Angel had become, in Buffy’s eyes his choice to work for W&H was a betrayal of the man she had known.
Not that the parallels to his own feelings in connection with the Doctor’s actions went very far - Buffy knew where Angel was, could go and demand her answers any time she wanted. But she hadn’t - it was clear that she was waiting for him to explain himself to her... And this spoke of a very interesting dynamic to their relationship, not dissimilar to what he’d gleaned of her time with Spike. Maybe it was something inherent to the nature of Slayer/vampire relations? Or maybe it was just that Buffy was naturally the boss of any relationship?
He was thrown out of his musings when his phone rang yet again and he had to focus on the finer points of radioactive breakdown.
And still, the second Tosh hung up his thoughts leapt straight back to the point they’d been before - why had Angel signed up with Wolfram & Hart? What could they possibly have offered him?
Looking sternly at the panel in front of him, he pushed the Angel problem out of his head and tried to concentrate on the immediate challenges. The vampire would have to wait.
Late evening.
The ornate clock on the mantelpiece declared the time to be five minutes to midnight, but - despite being tired out from the day’s work - Jack felt ready to tackle his latest problem.
Making sure all the servants had gone for the night, he sat down on the large leather sofa in the main living room with his laptop and a large mug of hot coffee. Embers glowed in the fireplace, colouring the room, and it was one of those times where he felt keen appreciation of creature comforts.
Out of habit he first checked his e-mail and saw that Tosh had sent yet another update on their newest project, but after skimming it quickly he opened the internet and began the delicate task of hacking into W&H’s network.
Once in, it didn’t take long to locate a file named ‘Angel’, although it looked suspiciously small. When he clicked on it, however, he realised with sinking heart realised that it wasn’t a file - it was an archive!
The list of links appeared endless - the material probably taking up more than an entire server on its own. Which raised another question - why on earth was Angel so important to them?
He sighed deeply, knowing that he had neither the time, nor the interest, to spend a fortnight reading through everything. Surely there was a short version somewhere, some sort of ‘Quick Guide to Angel’? After a little further search he found it, mentally thanking the poor sap who’d had to write it.
Even so the document seemed endless, and he swiftly jumped forward until Buffy’s name caught his eye. Soon he was engrossed in a story far more incredible than he’d dare guess at. He didn’t notice his legs cramping, or his back aching as he followed Angel through his adventures - from Sunnydale and Buffy to LA, the twists and turns spellbinding.
And then, out of the blue, Wolfram & Hart offered him a top job... which he took.
No explanation; no clue whatsoever to what could possibly have swayed his mind.
Jack frowned and slowly stretched, dimly noticing feeling return to cramped limbs, as he turned the strange situation over in his mind.
The law firm had fought Angel for all that time - the man could be under no illusions as to what they were. It was... it was almost like his own story in reverse...
His first act, as leader of Torchwood Cardiff, had been to sever all links with Torchwood London. He didn’t like them, or their methods, or their aims. Was still pissed off that they continued to blatantly ignore his repeated warnings about spending a minor fortune messing with random holes in the universe... Still, despite their stuck-up attitude, their mission was to help and further mankind. They weren’t evil. But Wolfram & Hart were most definitely as bad as it was possible to get.
It made no sense. Neither did the law firm’s focus on this one vampire.
Searching around in the links archive, he finally unearthed a document detailing a prophecy that made their motives clearer. Although surely Angel would be familiar with it too?
Too tired to begin reading about Angel’s tenure as CEO, he instead decided to look up his team members, wanting to put faces to names.
He found them in a folder that also contained the vampire’s family, and, curious, pressed the link for Spike, wanting to see how The Evil Empire described the vampire who’d won a soul for himself.
The image that greeted him left him slightly slack jawed for a moment - the blond hair and black coat, perfectly offsetting those eyes... by the lost wonder of Arcadia, talk about a man finding a look that worked. How on earth had Buffy stopped herself from jumping him the first time their paths had crossed?
Telling himself to focus, he started reading - and was hit by a far greater shock.
Spike was alive?
Utterly stunned he read every word he could find, emerging much later feeling dizzy and shaky.
Spike was alive. And Spike had stayed in LA instead of going to Buffy... helping Angel, although thankfully not joining up with W&H. But why? Why stay?
A million new questions were presenting themselves, but whilst he could make guesses - Angel and Spike were family, and, as he knew far too well, an immortal could never offer a mortal a real life - he needed more information. Not just on the Spike side of things, but also when it came to Angel’s operation - he was disinclined to take Wolfram & Hart’s reports at face value.
Then he slowly smiled, as he realised that he knew just who to ask.
Wednesday 7th April, dawn.
A persistent knocking on Andrew’s door made him drag himself out of bed, head still asleep. If it was that insane octogenarian from downstairs he’d put a Jedi curse on her or something. How dearly he wished that his Italian was better, and that she wasn’t quite so deaf...
But opening the door his head woke up with a sharp jolt, as his heart suddenly fluttered. On his doorstep stood The Immortal, looking stunningly immaculate and crisp, even at this ungodly hour.
(Of course he was looking immaculate. He was not anything resembling an ordinary person, with ordinary flaws and problems.)
“Can I come in?” he asked, and then proceeded to walk past Andrew without waiting for an answer.
“Of course...” he said, feebly, watching as The Immortal slowly took in his flat, eyes trailing over the posters and various paraphernalia, before he chose the largest armchair to sit in.
“Would... would you like some coffee?” Andrew asked, unsure what to do or say.
“Sounds good,” The Immortal answered, and Andrew rushed into the kitchen, turning on the kettle and getting out the best mugs, hands shaking.
A few minutes later he brought the drinks through, and The Immortal looked up and smiled, before taking a cup from Andrew’s hand and taking a sip.
“Not bad,” he pronounced, and Andrew felt his cheeks burn again. As he carefully lifted his own cup, The Immortal tilted his head, his smile turning into something Andrew couldn’t quite figure out.
“You know, I’ve been wondering - how come you never told Buffy that Spike is alive?”
The cup fell from Andrew’s hands, shattering against the floor and throwing hot brown liquid all over his feet, but he barely registered it.
“Wha... what?”
“You must have met him, when you went over to deal with Dana - she cut off his hands after all.”
“But how... how do you...”
The other man shrugged; a smugly superior look on his face. “I’m The Immortal. I guess you could say it’s my job to know things.”
“Uh... okay...” It was impossible. OK, so not impossible, but...
“So - why did you never tell Buffy?” The Immortal continued, unperturbed. “She is quite clearly still heartbroken, and I can’t imagine that you’re the type to keep lovers from each other.”
“He... he asked me not to tell. Said he’d do it himself, just... he just didn’t know how.”
The Immortal looked thoughtful. “True... it can be a little awkward explaining non-death.”
"Would you... would you mind...” Andrew feebly indicated the broken cup and cooling coffee, and The Immortal shook his head. Cleaning up as quickly as possible, Andrew could feel his heart beating too hard. What did he want?
Settling himself down again, and trying to keep his voice calm, he asked. “Was that all you wanted?”
The Immortal chuckled, still blowing on his coffee. “Not quite. I need you to tell me about Angel - his organisation, his team, his objectives in as much as you know them, and - of course - what Spike is up to. Everything you saw, everything you found out. Feel free to throw in anything you know about Buffy.”
“I... I don’t know if...” The Immortal’s smile was perfectly pleasant, and yet there was a look in the back of his eyes, an edge to his voice, that made Andrew feel distinctly nervous.
“It’ll all be confidential of course,” The Immortal said, and Andrew squirmed.
“I - I shouldn’t... Buffy wouldn’t - I shouldn’t go behind her back...”
The Immortal sighed. “Your loyalty is very... laudable, but asking Buffy herself would upset her. So - I ask you.” Noticing Andrew’s worried expression, he shrugged. “If you’re really that worried about it, I could wipe your memory afterwards?”
Andrew’s eyes widened. It wasn’t so much the idea itself, as the casual way in which it was said... and the implications...
“But... but I thought you never used magic.”
The Immortal threw up his free hand in frustration. “What is with you people? It’s always magic or nothing, which is just such a... limited outlook. Trust me, there are far more reliable and safe ways of manipulating the world.”
He sat back, his eyes hard and grey blue like sheet steel. “Now, will you please just talk, or do I have to force you? I’m not doing this for fun. Angelus is my old archnemesis - his stupid idea, not mine - and I need to asses the level of threat that he now poses. You are the only one here who’s been to LA and has seen what kinda show he’s running now. So spill.”
Andrew was not unused to being threatened, and yet...
There was barely a hint of anger, and certainly no hate or scorn in The Immortal’s voice - just tiredness and stubbornness; the same determination he saw in the Slayers’ eyes when, after a long night, yet another vampire showed up. There was nothing personal in this, just an unwavering resolve to get what he wanted. And somehow this was scary on a whole new level. He could still remember all the stories he’d read - back before he’d picked up the book and decided that obviously whoever had written the stories about how The Immortal served no master but his own interests, good or bad as the case might be, was a sad, jealous loser. How could he have forgotten that sad, jealous losers often had a point?
But The Immortal set down his empty cup, folded his arms, and kept a calm, steadfast and very unnerving eye on Andrew.
Despite himself, Andrew started to talk. And really - he wasn’t telling any secrets as such, just relating what had happened in LA. As he spoke, he discovered that there was something immensely gratifying about having the man’s undivided attention - a situation he’d never dared to dream of.
Finally however, after what seemed like a mesmerising eternity which included a lot of odd and shrewd follow-up questions, The Immortal got up to leave.
But instead of heading for the door he turned to Andrew, eyes musing, and brought up his hand cradle Andrew’s neck.
“You know, you have been incredibly helpful. I think you might deserve a reward.”
Andrew felt like his insides had suddenly turned liquid. The Immortal’s hand was warm and gentle against his skin, and far too intimate - and there was a strange look in his eyes as they travelled over him... Oh god, oh god, he couldn’t breathe, and he’d never been kissed or... anything... and what about Buffy...
But none of the imagined scenarios unfolded. Instead The Immortal tilted his head, then withdrew his hand, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I presume you’re familiar with London?”
Andrew nodded silently, too befuddled to formulate a reply, and the other smiled. “Good. Listen carefully, because you’re going to have to memorise this - no writing things down.” His eyes grew distant for a moment, then he continued. “16th April 2005 - so just over a year from now - South bank of the Thames, across from the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben specifically. Get there fairly early, bring a video camera - or preferably two, just in case, and plenty of spare batteries. Tripods might be good too. Make sure you have an uninterrupted view of Big Ben, film continuously. Got it?”
“Wha... what? Do you... do you know the future?”
There was that odd look again - the one he couldn’t read at all. “I’m The Immortal, I know many things. As I said, it’s my job.”
“But what happens?”
The Immortal chuckled. “Telling you that would spoil the surprise, don’t you think? Now - repeat it all back to me.”
Haltingly he did so, The Immortal making him repeat every detail until he was sure it wouldn’t be forgotten. Then, a calculating look in his eyes, The Immortal bit his lip.
“You know... you can do me a favour at the same time and deliver a message to Buffy once it’s time. See for a little while things will seem very grim - tell her not to worry, not to get involved. There will be people fixing it.”
“You?”
The Immortal shook his head, trying not to smile even though his eyes suddenly looked sad. “Oh no, not me. As a matter of fact I’ll be staying as far away as possible.” There was an awkward pause, then he continued.
“Anyway, I should be going. But - for the record - I was never here, and we never had this conversation, understood?”
“Uh.. yeah. Obviously,” Andrew nodded, but then couldn’t help asking - needing to reassert himself somehow and stop feeling... exploited.
“Do you usually lie to your girlfriends?”
The Immortal raised his eyebrows; looking not surprised, but matter-of-fact.
“I lie to everyone,” he replied, a statement Andrew realised might be the closest he’d ever get to knowing the truth of the man. He stood still, mutely watching as his guest made for the door.
But, as The Immortal’s hand was on the handle, a smile curved the corner of his mouth and he turned his head.
“Oh and Andrew?” The voice was teasing now, almost fond.
“Yes?” he answered, unsure, heart suddenly beating rapidly again.
“Do everyone a favour and get yourself a boyfriend!”
Then, with a wink and a swift grin The Immortal left, the too-charming-to-be-true image burned into Andrew’s mind.
***
Back in the car, Jack turned over the new information in his head. To tell Buffy or not - that was the question. On the one hand she deserved to know, and the look on her face would be incredible! But on the other... on the other was Spike’s own decision. And also the fact that Jack only had Buffy to himself for a few short weeks, and he really didn’t want to shorten his time with her in any way.
No, he’d leave the Spike conundrum alone for now. Perhaps the secret could be a parting gift?
As for Angel... well the man was clearly trying to use his new power for good. Maybe he was trying to beat the bad guys at their own game? Or... or the whole thing was a Trojan horse deal. In either case Angel was unlikely to come running to Rome to settle old scores. Jack just had to keep a low profile and make sure the vampire didn’t discover that he was dating Buffy.
Although surely he couldn’t still be as jealously possessive...
Chapter 8