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Ch. 15 Common Courtesy

”We’re leaving the band after the album premieres.”

Spike stared at the two of them in disbelief. The tension had grown from three to ten in all about half a second and it was suspended in the air like thick smog. Angel was nervously shifting his eyes to the painting on the wall, the standing lamp in the corner, the bag of chips next to him, everywhere he could think of except Spike and Oz had his closed completely.

“Four years…” Spike started and stopped, turning his head. He couldn’t look at them right now. “Four years and we come to this.”

Angel finally looked up at him. He couldn’t really think of anything to say. The things he wanted to say were hurtful and as much as he thought his friend deserved the pain, he couldn’t bring himself to voice what he was feeling. Voice what had been running through his head the second they left Sunnydale, not three years ago. You gave up… You say you want the band then you run off in your own world… You hurt us, you hurt everyone…

“It’s not what it was. Not what it used to be,” he muttered. Oz opened his eyes slowly and realized that he was still sitting in the middle of what seemed to be the third world war.

“Spike, we’ve been at this for a long time and I’m still not seeing the fruits of my labor,” Oz slowly explained. Angel nodded his agreement.

“Where’s all the money going, man?”

“Dru said she has it taken care – “ Spike stopped mid-sentence.

“I see,” Angel nodded his head, partially in disbelief and partially because he didn’t know what else to do. Anger was brewing up inside him and he didn’t want to let it out. Not yet, anyways.

“Hey, we signed a contract,” Oz told his friend who had begun pacing the room again. “I want to see my share of the profits. I gave up everything for this band, you know? So did Willow. And you, you gave up a lot, even though you don’t realize it. Angel, did you give up a lot?”

Angel nodded, a little relieved that Oz had finally decided to speak up and voice some of the concerns he had been having.

“See, Spike?” Oz continued, “we all had enough.”

Spike nodded slowly, numbly. He hadn’t expected this. The sun was beginning to set and the sky was now a lazy orange. It shone through the floor-length window and cast shadows on all their faces, accentuating their overcast expressions.

He stepped over the table and sunk into the sofa next to Angel.

“When did the two of you sort this out, Forehead? Probably a while back, yeah? Try to keep me in the dark? Frightened of what I might do to myself if I knew?” He wanted a drink. Something alcoholic, something strong. Whiskey, vodka, he needed something… The possibilities swam before his eyes and he bit down on his cheek just thinking about it.

“A month or so ago,” Angel was studying Spike carefully from the harsh way he sucked in air to the way his eyes were shifting around hurriedly, as if he wanted to be somewhere else. As if he needed a quick fix.

“What, you didn’t think I would like your little scheme, did you?” Spike’s voice was getting louder, he sounded a little angrier.

“No, we were unsure of how you would react,” Angel bit back the edge in his voice, “and you can see why…”

“Well maybe if you gits had the common courtesy to let me in – “

Angel cut him off, finally exploding.

“Common courtesy!! You want to talk about common courtesy?!” He jumped to his feet, his face contorting and his hands balling up into fists. “Oz, man, do you want me to begin?”

“All you,” Oz muttered, leaning back, not wanting to be forced to take sides between two extremes. A part of him wanted to, but his calm and collected self-control allowed him to play his role as the mediator.

“Fine,” Angel turned on Spike, who was glaring at him with a threat in his eyes. He was a little surprised at Angel’s reaction, but had quickly subdued the inner demon that had leapt up instantly, ready to fight in his defense. “Lets start with how it all began! Remember going to Willy’s that one night? Of course you remember. We were supposed to all go together, right? All meet the manager at the same time, look over the contract, sign up and leave, right?

“Maybe I’m delusional, but as I remember it, you upped and left to go to the bathroom and you never came back! Do you know how worried we were? I called the cops, called Giles, called everyone! For all I knew, you had disappeared from the face of the earth! But where were you? Ohhh yeah, I remember! You were busy fucking our new manager. Busy drinking with her, busy getting high with her, so busy that you just signed us all up for whatever she had in mind without even asking us if this was what we wanted! Fuck, you didn’t even know what the hell you had just gotten us into! And you talk to me about common courtesy? Fuck you.”

He spat the words out, turning redder by the second. Spike opened his mouth but Angel cut him off again, this time speaking with a steadier tone.

“You keep saying that this is our dream,” he paused and took a deep breath, rubbing a tired eye with the back of his hand, “but it’s really yours. Sure, it was fun some of the times, it was a great break for us, but this?” he gestured around at the apartment, “this isn’t my dream. Remember the school plays, Spike? Remember how you always made fun of me because I was a theater geek?”

Spike snorted. “Bleeding poofter you were, too.” There was a hint of nostalgic affection in his voice and his eyes glazed over, thinking back to a time when they had all been happy. But it passed over in less than a second and soon, they were hard again.

“Yeah,” Angel nodded, smiling in spite of himself. “I always thought I’d light up Broadway, and you told me I was a ‘ninny’ and that it was a girl’s dream. It doesn’t matter now. It never was a big deal. I’m glad you got your dream, Spike.”

He sighed wistfully and sat back down on the sofa.

The room was silent for a long moment as the weight of Angel’s words, however simple, gradually rested down on each of them. And for the first time in three years, Spike felt ashamed.

“I never asked you, did I?” he broke the silence and his voice cracked. Angel shook his head sadly. “I just followed a whim and dragged you all here, didn’t I? I didn’t even see… I didn’t even know…”

“It was never like that, Spike,” Oz stopped him. “Not that… melodramatic anyways,” he shot Angel a little look but he never met his eyes. That was when he realized that there were tears in his friend’s eyes. In both of his friend’s eyes.

And the sight of them crying was too much.

“When did you guys become such girls?” He mused, raising an eyebrow. Angel and Spike both laughed shortly and quickly wiped at their eyes. The bitterness hadn’t risen.

“Quite the drama-queens aren’t we,” Spike muttered sarcastically.

They sat together for another half an hour before parting ways, communicating in their silence more than they had ever been able to communicate with words. By this time, the night had set and the sky was a deep, dark blue and the crescent moon looked down on them with an amused half-smile, sending silver light that was cruel and mocking compared to the wistful hope of the setting sun.

The cement sidewalk rose to meet Spike’s foot as he stepped out of the old, beaten down apartment building. Taking in a deep breath of the cool, brisk air, he turned and blended in with the night-life of Los Angeles.

There was one thing that he had to do and tonight was the night he planned to do it.

…………

New York City

Buffy looked up from the medium latte that was no longer hot and the white job application only half-way filled out in front of her to meet the sparkling blue eyes of Emmanuel Alfred Gabriel Walsh the fifth. Otherwise known as Gabriel Walsh. A smile rose to her lips despite herself as she watched him break out into a friendly grin and battle the crowd standing in JavaJam, the packed coffee house, to get to her.

Gabriel’s eyes lit up at the sight of her sitting all alone and he hurried to say hello. He hadn’t talked to her since their last meeting at the auditorium. Since that first day before opening hours, they had made it a habit of running into each other at the same auditorium. Coincidentally or on purpose… he wasn’t quite sure as he had only strategically stationed himself in her route about three out of their four meetings, not including the first.

Buffy lowered her lashes and giggled softly as he nearly plowed down a little girl in a pink flowered dress, receiving a death glare from the mother and a little stomp on the toe from the girl he had assaulted.

“Whew, it’s like a battlefield out there!” he finally made his way to her table and sat himself down. She cleared off some papers to make him room. He gave her his famous lopsided grin, “So we meet again, Buffy Summers.” He looked around then leaned forward to whisper, “are you following me?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she smiled at the mischievous look on his face, “It seems to me that I have a stalker.”

They both laughed good-naturedly and fell into comfortable conversation. This was why Buffy liked him, she decided. He was fun, easy to talk to, nice to be around, sweet, intelligent, everything that she needed.

“What’s are you filling out?” he asked her, stealing a sip from her cooling latte. She sent him a little look of irritation.

“Stupid job application.” she scowled at it.

“For?”

“Here,” she answered, pointing at the top of the paper.

“Why would you want to work here?” he looked at the people surrounding them, “these people are dangerous. I think you’d get stampeded.”

“Well, the money is a huge plus,” she shrugged. “And the coffee. I’ll get my daily caffeine fix for free. Definitely of the good. Just figured I’d shoot two birds with one stone.”

“Huh, yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “And get smothered in the process. There are a lot of other places you could work and you know it.”

“I’ll tell you what, you find me a better place to look in to and I’ll consider it.”

Gabriel got up from his seat and grabbed her application, crumpling it up into a little ball and tossed it into the garbage behind him. He missed and the janitor across the room glared at him. Buffy stared at him in disbelief.

“What did you just do?” she demanded, rising up also with her hands on her hips. He just laughed and grabbed her arm, ready to lead her out of the little coffee shop.

“I know just the place for you.”





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