“Can you feel that?” Fred’s thumb gently pressed into his skin near his wrist.
“Yeah,” responded Spike spiritlessly. “Feels like some crazy bint lopped off my arms.”
Spike lay on a hospital bed in a dim room. The head of the bed was cranked high enough, a few pillows stuffed behind him, so that he was almost sitting up. Fred sat in a small folding chair at his side. Beyond them was the silence of the waning hours of the night.
“Spike, I meant . . .”
Spike closed his eyes for a moment. He took a deep, unnecessary breath. “I know what you meant, luv. Yes. I can feel that. But I can’t feel it as clearly as I should. It doesn’t feel real. It feels . . . kinda numb.”
The young scientist smiled faintly. “That would be the painkillers. They tend to do that. As long as you can actually feel it I wouldn’t worry.”
She touched the raw, red scar encircling one forearm, examining the wound. She turned Spike’s arm gently. “The surgeons did a good job. All the nerves seem intact. You should have full mobility. I’d worry more if she’d done something to your elbow.”
Spike sat there quietly, the depth of pain like darkness behind his eyes. She finally stopped and looked at him.
“Are you alright?” Fred asked with quiet sympathy. “Is there . . . still a lot of pain?”
“More than I’d like. Not much considering. I shouldn’t complain. It’s . . . what I deserve.”
She shook her head. “Nobody said that.”
“No,” Spike responded, despondent. “I did. The lass thought I’d killed her family. And I’m supposed to what . . . complain . . . ‘cause hers wasn’t one of the hundreds of families I did kill. I’m not saying, Angel’s right . . . ‘cause, uh . . . I’m physically incapable of saying that, but . . . for a demon, I never did think much about the nature of evil. I just threw myself in. Thought it was a party. I liked the rush. I liked the crunch.” The vampire blinked slowly. “Never did look back at the victims.”
Fred watched him quietly. She spoke softly, “I imagine Angel couldn’t take his eyes off them.” She swallowed. “I suppose it was . . . art to him. I guess he likely would have considered Dana a masterpiece.”
Fred’s soft words tapered off and seemed to hang there in the air, in the deep corners of silence.
Spike finally tried to meet her eye. “What happens to her?”
“I don’t know. Wes said that Andrew and the Slayers took her. They didn’t trust us to help her.”
“Andrew double-crossed you! That’s a good move.” Spike’s smile didn’t quite reach the emptiness in his eyes. “Hope for the little ponce yet.” Spike looked down at his arms. “Though, the tingling in my forearms says . . . she’s too far gone to help. She’s a monster.”
Fred, “She was an innocent victim.”
“So were Angel and I . . . once upon a time.”
She repeated his words breathlessly into the silence, “Once upon a time . . .”
Buffy stood quietly on a terrace, staring silently out at the world. The sun was in the final motions of setting, casting the horizon in sheets of pink and lavender. She leaned carelessly against the barricade. Absently played with the ivy that clung to it on the outside.
The french doors were open behind her. An evening breeze stirred, trying to draw the ivory colored curtains out onto the terrace. They fluttered faintly.
These past few months, her life, was like a blur in her mind. London. Paris. Prague. Berlin. Places she once would have never even hoped to dream of seeing. Even if she didn’t always speak the language there was beauty to be found there. In moments of peace when she could forget for minutes and hours that the weight of the world had ever slung itself over her slim shoulders. Moments, when despite everything that had happened in her colorful memory she could forget herself and remember how it was to smile.
Buffy had found peace here in Europe that she never expected she could have found in California. She couldn’t say precisely that she had found contentment, because some memories were too vitriolic to tuck away and avoid forever. She could say though, that in many ways, she was happier than she had ever been.
It had been like a dream. Everyday she’d wake up somewhere new. Somewhere exciting. It was like the day had no memory.
But like all dreams, it eventually had to come to an end. They had to settle somewhere. Dawn had to go to school for one. And there were, other considerations. Part of Buffy had expected to be homesick, after being away for so long, but California didn’t hold the allure it once had. They had decided on Rome. The city sprawled, an eclectic mix of the new and ancient world. Something in it had called to her. She had found an apartment on the outskirts of the city.
Rome seemed comfortable to her.
The breeze carried a faint fragrance. Buffy didn’t know what it was, but it had become familiar, and it meant she was home.
“There you are,” Dawn appeared through the French doors from inside and came out onto the terrace to stand beside her. “I was wondering where you got off to.”
“I’m here,” Buffy said somewhat playfully. “I’ve been here. I like it here.”
“You better like it here,” said Dawn in a good-natured kinda way. “The rent’s paid up until . . . I don’t know when, but the rent’s paid.”
“Actually we own it.”
Dawn smiled. “See.”
Buffy took an expectant breath. “So what are you up to?”
Dawn’s smile turned into a frown. “What makes you think I’m up to something?”
Buffy smiled indulgently at her sister.
“Okay, okay. I wanted to know if I could go out with Anthony and Marguerite tomorrow and hang out and do whatever us kids do.”
“Is your homework done?”
Dawn sighed, “Yes, mother.”
Buffy made a gesture. “Then knock yourself out. Just . . .”
“Not literally. Got it.”
Dawn lingered. After a moment Buffy looked at her. “Was there something else?”
The younger girl hesitated. “Giles called earlier.”
“Everything in L.A. go alright?”
“I guess,” Dawn hedged. “I mean he said everything went down fine.”
“What do you mean you guess?”
“Giles and Andrew are flying down tomorrow.”
Buffy frowned thoughtfully. “Did he say why?”
“No. Just that there was something that they had to talk to you about.”
Buffy thought for a few moments. A slight crease marred the carefree lines of her face as she ran the possibilities through her mind. “Angel,” she realized finally. “It’s gotta be Angel.”
“You think,” asked Dawn quizzically. The slightly taller girl leaned against the barricade beside Buffy. She brushed her long brown hair back along the side with her fingers and took a long look at her sister. “I still don’t understand what the heck he was thinking.”
Buffy sniffed. “I’m not sure he was. That’s kinda the problem.” Buffy stared out at the sunset distantly. “We might have to do something.”
“What can we do?”
“I don’t know,” said Buffy softly. “A permanent team of our own in L.A. for one . . . to counteract Angel’s people. I’ll talk about it with Giles.”
Dawn chuckled. She shook her head and wore a soft smile. “I’m not so sure Angel will like that.”
“I’m past caring about what Angel likes and doesn’t like.”
“It’s about time.” Dawn laughed out loud. There was a big grin on her face. “ ‘His hair sticks straight up, and he’s bloody stupid.’ ”
Buffy smiled and shook her head as they turned and walked back inside. “I’m glad you’ve gotten more mature in your opinions of people. Who told you that?”
“Willow.” She seemed almost giddy. “I thought it was appropriate.” Dawn closed and latched the french doors. “I’m off to bed,” Dawn told her. “Gotta get up early for fun time with my friends. You going to turn in too?”
“Thought I might stay up for a while. At least make an attempt to crack a book.”
“Still having trouble sleeping?”
“Yeah. It’s like . . . I just can't get comfortable enough. Not to mention the dreams.”
“Well, no wonder considering . . .”
“Shut it,” Buffy snapped back kindly.
Harmony lifted the phone to her ear and tried to find a way to do her nails at the same time. “Wolfram & Hart.”
Gunn approached. He was wearing a nicely tailored gray suit, moving with a casual gait, and had a briefcase in his hand and a thick folder tucked up under his arm.
“Please hold.” Harmony pressed a button on the phone, held the handset between her shoulder and chin, and looked up at Gunn.
He smiled at her kindly. “I’m here for a meeting with the boss,”
Harmony gestured with her free hand, the wet nail polish shining bright. “You can just go right in. He’s expecting you.”
A moment later she pressed a button on the phone to reconnect her call, leaving splotches of pink nail polish all over the phone. Her eyes widened when she saw.
“Son-of-a-bitch!"
Something growled in her ear through the telephone.
“No. Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you.” She held the phone away from her ear and just stared at it. “He hung up on me!” Harmony frowned pensively. “I hope I didn’t just start a demon clan war or something.”
She shrugged carelessly a moment later, hung up the phone and continued painting her nails.
Gunn softly shut the door and approached Angel’s desk. Angel was sitting in his chair. Wesley stood off to one side. “Boss. I’ve got those files you asked for on the new Slayer project we’re starting in on.”
Wesley looked between Gunn and Angel. “Slayer project?”
“Yeah. Angel came to me this morning. I really had to set heads rolling to get this moving as fast as it is.”
Gunn handed a thick folder to Angel over his desk. Angel casually opened it and began to skim through it.
“Get what moving?” Wes asked, wide eyes. There was a sick feeling gathering in the pit of his gut.
“I had our people do what Angel asked me to do. We started files on those Slayers that have already been identified, and set the mystics downstairs on the path of lookin’ for others for us.” Gunn looked down at Angel. “We’ll soon have recruitment teams already in position, pending your approval.”
Wes looked at Angel. His mouth hung open a little. “Recruitment!? Angel, I’m not sure that’s wise. You’re putting the Slayers into direct conflict with Wolfram & Hart.”
Angel sighed. “Wesley, I thought of this a whole bunch of ways. We’re doing a lot of good here, taking advantage of the abilities this place offers us. Buffy . . . doesn’t want to believe that . . . and I don’t think we’ll get the opportunity to convince her. But . . . maybe we stand a chance of convincing someone else that working for Wolfram & Hart is worthwhile.”
Softly, a plea, “Angel . . .”
“Wesley. This isn’t up for debate. It’s done.”
Angel slapped the thick file down on his desk.
author's notes:
Still no Spuffy, but some actual Buffy and Spike this time at least.
I had to throw that Buffybot line about Angel in there. I just couldn't help myself.
I didn’t think that Angel quite belonged in that initial scene with Spike in this fic. He seemed too angry. I hope I did well changing it to fit Fred. I think I did okay. I hope. I love the Spike/Fred friendship.
I think you can probably tell, I like Wes too. He was actually my favorite character on Angel, at least before Spike arrived on scene. It’s weird too, considering how much I hated him on Buffy. He slowly grew on me when he showed up on Angel, I admit it took a while, and strangely it was the Connor kidnaping thing that finally nailed him down with me. He’s rough, hard, and he tries like hell to do the right thing.
Thanks for all the great reviews for the first chapter of this. It makes up for the occasional nasty ones complaining about how I started my other fic “Endlessly...”, though for the most part reviews have been positive for that as well, at least from those that seem to have an open mind.
Love it. Hate it. At least I’m having fun . . .