Chapter Seventeen

With A Little Help



“Remind me again what we’re doing here.”

“I told you, Mr. Antsy-Pants,” Cordelia answered, propping her bag onto her shoulder and fighting the locks of hair that insisted on blocking her view. “There are a few things I’d like to pick up—and not that I’m all Angel-wiggy—but I figured it might be a little safer if I had someone to come with.”

Spike snickered and rolled his eyes. “What ‘appened to me not bein’ invited in?”

She grinned at him unpleasantly. “Well, since you’re so effectively neutered, it shouldn’t matter. Besides, as I said before, Dennis would so kick your ass.”

The door swung open at that without any hint of follow, and the vampire immediately found himself overwhelmed by a strong, unguided force that propelled him to the far other side of the veranda. The few drops of sunlight that had yet to dispel into the shadows trickled to vulnerable skin, and he yelped loudly in turn.

“Now that,” Wright said as he approached from the car, rugged face adorned with a grin of secreted amusement, “was funny.”

Spike scowled and fought to his feet. “Ghostly types. Always gotta have a bloody sense of humor.”

Cordelia shrugged and held the door open for him. “Well, they gotta pass the time somehow.” She gestured inward, the move broad and overly grandiose. “William the Bloody, I hereby pardon every bad thing you’ve ever done, and cordially invite you into my home. Consider yourself officially one of the gang.”

The vampire smirked at her and moved inward hurriedly. “Ha bloody ha, luv.” He ran a hand through platinum strands and was grinning when she finally shut the door behind them. “The day that you’re picked to reign judgment on all us poor demons ‘s—”

“Hey, I don’t see why you’re complaining. You’re currently my favorite vamp. Wanna keep it up?”

Wright rolled his eyes. “Because the selection is so wide. I guess if you wanted to go that way, he’d have to be my favorite vamp, too.”

Spike knew better than to push it, but couldn’t help himself. It was a rare day when he did. “Aw, shucks, Zangy,” he drawled. “I din’t know you cared.”

“I don’t. That being the point, in case you missed it.”

“And here I thought you boys were getting along,” Cordelia said dismissively, tossing her bag to the nearest chair. Then she lifted her head and called to no one in particular, “Phantom Dennis, meet Spike and Zack. Spike’s a vamp, Zack wants to kill him.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Wright said, holding up a hand. “I only want to kill him if I get to the others first. Right now, I’m just using him for his connections.”

Spike snickered. “’Course. Right martyr you are.”

“I do try.”

“Could you two save it for when I’m not around? Honestly.” Cordelia moved pristinely for her bedroom, glancing upward as though to catch the eye of her invisible roommate. “They did this all the way over here. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Well now,” Spike snickered. “Couldn’t have that, could we?”

“Hey, a healthy Seer is a happy Seer. Who knows? It might make my mind-numbingly painful visions all the more jolly.”

Zack smirked. “Yes. I’m sure the laws of nature would bend merely to accommodate you.”

“Better watch it, mate,” the vampire advised, though there was mischief in his eyes. “She was the Queen C. Near as I can recall, anyway.” His glance turned appraisingly to the apartment, narrowing his gaze at her very feminine surroundings. There was absolutely no doubt that a lady lived here. Even the greatest poof this side of the Atlantic wouldn’t choose these themes if they had any self-respect. Nevertheless, it was cozy. Very serene. Homey.

One would never guess that its resident worked for a vampire.

“So,” Cordelia said, emerging once more from her room with a small suitcase at her disposal. She wisely ignored the blank stares her random, not to mention rapid brandishing of a home-away-from-home survival kit. “What’s the game plan? Spike’s heading over to Caritas here in about a half—”

“Spike and Zack are heading to this…whatever,” the demon hunter corrected adamantly. When he received a skeptical look in turn, his spread his arms, eyes widening with incredulity. “What? Darla might show. You honestly think I’m gonna bypass a shot to—”

“Cordy, luv, do me a favor an’ keep Zangy nice an’ distracted for about three hours.” The vampire tossed an icy glare to his unlikely companion, speaking for everything the other man had not. Then it was all business. Amazing how the tone could change within a blink. The proverbial snap. Spike stepped intrusively into the hunter’s personal space. Like most men that were in the general acquaintance, Wright had several inches on him. He was domineering, built, and perceptibly unaffected by anything that occurred around him. A being of his own creation; schooled irrevocably that after all that he had seen and done, nothing would surprise him. That, however, was not enough to coax the Cockney back. Not when the waters they manned bordered the outskirts of rough. “Whatever else ‘appens tonight,” he said seriously. “’m not gonna let you sit by an’ bugger up my chances to get Buffy safe an’ sound. Somethin’ tells me that you stakin’ Darla wouldn’t be in followin’ the proper protocol of fraternizin’ with the enemy.”

“He wouldn’t have to know it’s me.”

“The answer’s no, Zangy.”

Wright paused and glared. “One, stop calling me that. Two, how the hell do you propose to stop me?”

There were a thousand and a half ways of answering that; all of which seemed as obvious as they were effective. He knew without consideration that none of the options that firstly came to mind would be attempted, but thought it better to leave them unvoiced anyway. Despite the man’s noted distaste for those of the undead variety, the past day had seemingly alleviated his standing. Wright would likely never admit it if his vehemence breeched and mended, allowing a few amendments to break his own golden rule.

The suspicious leers were becoming less. They had bantered more than argued.

Up until this point.

“Look, mate,” Spike said sensibly. “’m on your bloody side here. When—”

Wright scoffed at that, shaking his head in astonishment. “On my side?” he repeated, arching a skeptic brow. “You’re just using me.”

Cordelia waved a hand. “Ummm…did I miss something, Mr. Hypocritical? You are just using him too, right? Look, I know I don’t know you all that well, but I am a living, breathing person-shaped person here! And I do know Spike pretty well.” She frowned. “Well, I knew the old Spike…and when I say knew, I mean as in ‘ran from him as much as I could when I wasn’t trying to keep him from torturing my boss’…but you get the—”

The vampire cleared his throat and arched his brows. “Thanks ever so,” he said gruffly, eyes glued to the ground. “But I don’ really reckon tha’s gonna score me any points, pet.”

“Well, I was getting to a point.” Her eyes widened and she made a mocking face at Wright, who chuckled in spite of himself. “Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted…Buffy told me about this one time when an old friend of hers came down from…well…here…Hemery High and made a deal with you that if he gave you the Slayer, you’d vamp him. This ring any bells?”

The Cockney glanced down. Oh, bells were being rung. This wasn’t the sort of story one told to a demon hunter. Especially if one was in the process of winning the trust of said demon hunter. “Ummm, pet, s’all right. You don’ have to—”

“No. I’m just trying to make a point.” Cordelia pivoted to Wright, whose brows were peaked with interest. “Anyway, this guy totally blows it, obviously. Spikey here couldn’t kill the Slayer if—”

“Oi!”

“Well…”

“I don’t want to kill the Slayer, princess. Slightly different scenario.”

She gave him a skeptical glance. “Are we forgetting the chip?”

Spike scoffed. “No. Of bloody course not. How could we?”

“Ahem.” Zack waved a little to direct their attention back into focus. “I believe there was a story…”

“Right.” Cordelia nodded and, very unfortunately, picked up right where she left off. “Anyway, the guy totally delivers but Spike screws it up—” She held up a hand and plowed through whatever interruption curled off the peroxide Cockney’s lips, voice elevated to volumes that were likely on the brink of attracting dogs. “—and even though it would’ve been just as easy for him to say no to the entire ‘sire’ thing, he vamps him anyway. Kept his word.” She paused with a frown. “I don’t really see why it did any good, anyway. Way I hear it, the kid bit the dust the next night.”

Spike smirked poignantly. “Gotta hand it to her. My Slayer knows me well.”

Wright snickered. “Aww, how heartwarming.” He tossed a sideways glance to the vampire, expression nearly imperceptible all except the shadow of what could be construed as a grin tickling his lips. “See? That story had a happy ending and everything.”

“My point was, Spike’ll keep his promise. Darla’s gonna be dust either way.” At that, the brunette earned a sharp, nearly surprised look from her vampiric cohort, one that stung with both gratitude and conviction. “Even if he promises something particularly grizzly.”

“After the Slayer’s outta harm’s way,” the peroxide blonde agreed, nodding adamantly. “I don’ give a bloody damn what you do to my unfortunate blood ties. Torch the place. See what I care. I jus’ want her out.” A heavy pause settled for a minute. Despite however annoyed he was, Spike could certainly appreciate Wright’s need for vengeance. A quick, swift, definitive end to something that had destroyed every purity his life had ever known. More over, he would be sure he received it, after all was said and done—even and especially if he assisted where assistance was needed. “Jus’ work with me on this. Work with me…an’ I’ll work with you.”

There was a long beat of silence—a wordless beg to reason. Further and further they treaded, crossing as many boundaries as possible within reason. This time yesterday, Wright would have answered a resounding no, hands down. Amazing how altered perception could affect one’s tolerance. Finally, he broke and nodded, glancing downward. “All right,” he agreed, refusing to meet the vampire’s gaze. “All right. For…her.”

Spike smiled—a real smile. Genuine and without snark. “Thanks, mate.”

“I’m putting a lot on faith, here. I’ve never even met this chick.”

“She’s worth it.”

“So you keep saying.”

The vampire grinned and placed a hand over his nonbeating heart. “Would I lie?”

Cordelia’s brows arched. “Uhhh, yeah,” she said skeptically. “I just vouched for your reliability, not your honesty. Stay where you’re better acquainted.”

The look he shot her was colored and mostly falsified, but one could not discount the way the corners of his mouth lifted into the barest hint of a grin. “So you’re tellin’ me that you don’ think she’s worth it?”

The young woman smirked. “Oh, heaven forbid! Any Slayer who can get two of the most badass vamps crawling on their knees within a stone’s throw of each other has to be worth something.”

“Now, there’s all the reason you needed to give me,” Wright complied, grinning madly. “Remind me that I’m doing this to save the girl that effectively got William the Bloody whipped. Any dame like that’s one I’m hankering to meet.”

At that, Spike’s gaze darkened. “I am not—”

For not the first time, Cordelia met Zack’s gaze, nodded, and they bombarded him with a collective, “Yes you are.”

“I—”

“You’re not fooling anyone,” the young woman told him, shaking her head and jingling her keys with the unspoken implication that everyone should head for the door. “Didn’t we clarify this just last night?”

“Besides,” Wright added, “you’ve told me several times that you’re not expecting anything from her in return. If that’s not whipped, I don’t—”

“Sod off.”

“Oh no, buddy. What was it you said? If it annoys, it stays.”

“So you’re takin’ to quotin’ a vamp now?”

He shrugged. “As long as it’s a whipped vamp, I’m cool with it.”

Spike scowled and stalked forward, only without the intensity he was striving for. At some point, the line had faded to a lesser-recognizable form of tangibility and settled at the point of no return. He was getting that buggering annoying feeling that this bloke was one he could learn to not-hate, despite the man’s noted abhorrence for all of his kind.

Instead of continuing with another string of useless slander that would ultimately get them nowhere, the vampire conceded with a shrug and allowed his façade to drop, gesturing to the door. “All right then,” he said, his casual lenience indicating in hidden layers that this trade was nowhere near over. They would likely be arguing the point until the trials were over and everyone was on their way home. “I better be off. Wouldn’t wanna keep the Great Poof waitin’.”

Zack’s brows perked and he made to follow. “So, to Caritas then?”

“Thought I told you that you weren’ comin’.”

“Funny. I could’ve sworn that…well, you can’t stop me.”

Spike paused intently and his eyes narrowed, fists clenching as though searching for control. “Zangy…”

There was an amused chuckle. Cordelia cast her gaze upward in random speculation of her hovering Phantom-Dennis and muttered, “Lover’s quarrel.”

“I promised I wouldn’t try to kill Darla,” Wright clarified, opening the door with a cocky grin. “But a chance to meet the legendary Angelus? Who could say no?”

“Bloody…an’ ‘f Darla shows?”

The other man shrugged. “Well, I’m assuming this place is sizey. Getting lost won’t present much of a problem. Besides…” It was small, nearly imperceptible, but one would swear that his eyes alighted with a hint of uncovered disobedience. The light of whom he had once been, perhaps. When circumstances were different. Someone who sought trouble as a means of entertainment, if nothing else. “I do this for a living.”

He was gone the next minute; sprinting out the door with shades of jollity that almost looked alien on his figure.

Spike sighed and cast his gaze heavenwards. “That boy ‘s gonna be the death of me.”

“Awww, I don’t think so,” Cordelia replied, thrusting her bags into the vampire’s hands without awaiting invitation. “He’s all talk, if you ask me.”

“I was speakin’ figuratively, you know.”

“Oh, I know. But even still…” She nudged her head to the door with wordless consent that he should follow. “One measly demon hunter take down William the Bloody? Puhlease. Even if said demon hunter does have a very, very nice physique. Not to mention abs and a six-pack and…oh, and all that upper-body—”

Spike cleared his throat. Loudly.

To her credit, the young woman didn’t miss a beat. She turned back to him quickly and flashed a bright smile that nearly coincided with the sequential roll of her eyes. “Oh, stop. You know you’re gorgeous.”

He grinned. “Naturally.”

“Is he seeing anyone? You know?”

At that, the grin faded. Amazing how quickly one could develop a streak of immediate empathy. He didn’t even have to fake that one. “Prolly best to avoid bringin’ it up,” he advised. “’E jus’ got over a bad break.”

“Oh.” The disappointment on her face was manifest, and nearly coaxed him to laugh again. Then she flashed her eyes upward, discontent vanished, and granted him a coy smirk. “You know I’m only asking about him because I know you’re off the market, right?”

“Of course.”

“Besides, all that muscle has nothing against vamp strength. You could totally kick his ass.”

It was odd the way his head hurt to even think of raising a hand against a human in anger. Was that the chip or the conscience-he-didn’t-want? At some point, one must concede that caring got them nowhere. “Not that I don’ appreciate the sentiment, pet, but—”

“I meant in a fair fight, dummy. Who are you more afraid of? Zachary Wright or Joyce Summers with an axe?”

He couldn’t help it; he chuckled. “Neither,” he replied honestly. “But ‘f I had to choose…”

“My point exactly. Now chop chop!” She clapped her hands loudly, ushering him out the door. “You don’t wanna be late for your date with Angel, do you?”

Spike scowled irately. “You know, luv,” he said. “’F I din’t like you so much—”

“I know. Just call it charismatic charm.” Cordelia grinned and strolled intently for the car where Zack had, again, assumed the passenger seat. “Be a dear and put the bags in the back. And are you coming or not?”

A long pause and he stood at the curb, safely incased in shadows even if the sun couldn’t touch him now. The sight of a new epiphany. Amazing. Only days had passed, and he already knew more acceptance and solidarity amongst these people than he had ever been granted in Sunnydale. The opening doors to compassion.

Perhaps that was the change. The influx of a conscience he did not want to coincide with the support he thought he would never have.

“Right then,” he said, bouncing Cordelia’s suitcase a bit, having nearly forgotten he was holding it. “To the belly of the bloody beast. Hope the wanker’s hungry.”

It was time then. Time to get the Slayer back.

Starting with a meeting.

Assuming he dealt his cards right, the Great Poof would never see him coming. It was risqué and more than flawed, but Spike had a natural hand at cards.

Even if he was known to keep the better plays up his sleeve.




To be continued in Chapter Eighteen: Back Door Man…





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