Eleven
Cry for the bird with broken wings
Cry for the world that will not spin
Cry for the loss of innocense
Cry for a love, turned loveless
Sometimes I think of you, when I'm alone
Oh no Cry ...
Nothing will ever be the same
all is ruined and put to shame
tears and stars are one and the same
when I look up through my focused lens
But sometimes I think of you, when I'm alone
Oh no Cry ... tears and stars confide, collide then die
Deep inside tears run dry, but I cry and cry.
Tiger skins and elephant tusks
in guilted mountains seep disgust
I look at you and I want to speak
for once in a while be a man and weep
'cos all the dolphins and whales have gone
all good tidings and hopes have blown
all our nightmares are flying home
and it's too late to do anything but ...
Cry ... tears and stars confide, collide then die
deep inside tears run dry, but I cry and cry
Cry ...
How they ended up in the bed, Will couldn’t begin to guess. Buffy was clinging to him like a limpet, her head tucked under his chin, her arms curled about his waist. Their feet were entangled, her toes worming their way inside his socks.
His eyes were burning, dry despite his grief. Will couldn’t bring himself to let down his guard. Couldn’t get his brain to stop thinking. Whoever had killed Nikki had to have a good idea of where they might be. If they traced their cell phones, GPS might have worked long enough to pinpoint a heading.
Their only hope lay with the possible breakdown of Reilly’s infrastructure. With luck, Harris and MacDonald were too busy jockeying and fighting for position and power to worry about his witness. Although now, with Nikki dead, Will had serious doubts about that theory.
Whoever was running the show – likely the same one who’d killed Angelus – needed his witness dead. His money was on MacDonald, the former lawyer was a backstabbing, conniving, lying son-of-a-bitch, who’s rapid rise through Reilly’s organization was a testimony to his ruthless ambition. Spike’s intelligence had pegged him as the Brutus against Reilly’s Caesar.
Harris was too loyal, too bound through family ties to Angelus. He had been married to Liam’s sister Cordelia. . .
MacDonald was the logical suspect to betray his boss, which was why they’d planted Faith in his path.
He had a thing for women, though there was various rumors about MacDonald sleeping with the peripatetic Mrs. Reilly – And if that was true, Will had his second motive.
Kill Caesar. Take his empire and his wife.
But where the hell is Lehane?
Gunn said she still hadn’t checked in – had MacDonald gotten to her? Or had Harris? Faith was Harris’ type – brunette bombshell with a body made for sin and an attitude to match.
Was she in danger?
Will’s mind raced from one outlandish scenario to another, each successively crazier than the last. But he couldn’t stop thinking.
Because if he did, he’d have to admit Nikki was dead.
Which was the last thing he wanted to admit.
His thoughts were interrupted when Buffy pulled away from him, her eyes focusing on his. “I’m sorry. This is all because of me. If you hadn’t come for me, none of this would’ve happened.”
“Not true, kitten.” He could feel his throat tightening up, so Will paused for a moment.
That hesitation gave Buffy the opening she needed. “It is true. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Her insistent belief that she was the root cause of this irked him. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think that.”
Will held her face, forcing her to keep eye contact. “I’ve been chasin’ after that bastard for the better part of five years, since before I left London.” He paused to calm the sudden flare of anger.
“He’s the reason for all this. Angelus is the – “ At her bewildered look, Will paused again. “Tha’s what he’s called, sweetheart. Angelus. He’s spent years working for the IRA and when that went soft, he switched to providing guns to terrorists.”
Buffy’s eyes widened as he listed all of Angelus’ crimes. Liam Reilly had started early, making a name for himself in the Provisional IRA while still in his early teens. His baby face had led to the ridiculous moniker of Angel, and when he’d objected by killing those who called him so to his face, the name had stuck. “He nearly killed my handler when I was still with MI6.”
“You were a spy?”
There was a bit of enthusiasm, a sort of awe-tinged admiration in her voice that he didn’t quite like. “Not the way you’re thinking.”
He let her go, rolling over onto his back. “Wasn’t James Bond.”
Her face appeared in his line of sight. “It’s still very cool.”
The twinkling in her eyes was enough to make him smile faintly. “I’ll let you think that.”
“Oh, c’mon. It’s very cool. Can you do all those crazy things? Drive a boat over the road?” An infectious giggled worked its way from her and Will couldn’t help but respond.
“Never done that. But I have chased someone on the tube.”
“Tube? What’s that?” Scrunching up her nose made her look about ten years old, and Will was suddenly struck with the realization that they probably shouldn’t be laying in the bed together. He eased her away again, this time sitting up on the bed.
“London’s subway system.”
Buffy sat there, watching him as he stalked from the room.
His mood swing had completely baffled her. She had no idea why the reminder of London made him all grouchy. Nor did she understand why he hadn’t spoken to her in hours. He was still in the living room, listening quietly to the news, an unread book clasped in his hands. Whether he was conscious of it or not, he’d taken the same spot she had hours earlier, when she was waiting for him to return from his insanely long shopping trip.
The snowfall had continued and now the city was blanketed in a soft white. Through the dark glass, Buffy could see the muted bridge lights, and the park gleaming in the darkness just in front of it. It was a gorgeous view even in the dead of winter. It had to be breathtaking in the summer with all the trees and the bridge in the background.
It suddenly dawned on her, as she watched him pretend to read, why he’d been so adamant that none of this was her fault. He must be blaming himself for it. For getting involved – maybe too involved – with the whole case. He’d said he’d been chasing after Angelus – what a stupid nickname that was – for more than five years. Why wouldn’t he blame himself for getting Nikki involved?
Buffy hovered in the doorway, holding her breath. He thinks this is all his fault, because of him.
She moved on silent feet, edging closer and closer to him. It wasn’t until she was within arm’s length of him that he registered her presence. And by the look on his face, he wasn’t all that happy about her proximity. “What is it?”
“Are you mad at me?” She was chewing on her lower lip, apprehension in her eyes.
He sighed, then tossed the book away, almost throwing it across the room. “No. Not mad at you.”
She shifted from foot to foot, obviously wary of approaching him further. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” He got to his feet, turning his back on her. “Just go to bed.”
“Are you gonna sleep?”
He could hear the confusion and hurt in her voice, but Will didn’t care. She was just a witness. A young, under-age witness, and he couldn’t afford to forget it. He completely ignored the part of the equation that said she’d been selling herself on the street for a couple of months. That wouldn’t matter. Not to the brass – MI6 or the NYPD – if he was caught in a compromising situation with her, it would mean the end of his career and the end of his freedom. And while he might need the comfort and the release to forget, Will couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.
She was just a witness.
She was young enough to be his daughter.
“Go to bed, Buffy.” Will resolutely kept his back to her. “Go.”
It was the first time she could remember him using her name. Buffy stared at his back for a few minutes, hoping he would change his mind and . . . She realized it was futile when he refused to turn and look at her. With a deep sigh that ended in a choked sob, Buffy retreated to the bedroom.
Not for the first time – just not since her parents split for good – Buffy cried herself to sleep. There was no noise from the other room, save for the faint strains of the radio and she tried very hard to keep her tears quiet. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel more guilt. Though he might’ve denied it had she been bold enough to ask, Buffy knew that was the reason for the change in his mood. It couldn’t be anything else.
Without his support, she was alone. Her mother didn’t care and although she harbored the thought her father would, if he knew of her circumstances. Buffy didn’t dare put any reliance upon it. She needed to make William like her. Needed to make sure he didn’t dump her on the streets when this was over.
If pressed, Buffy wouldn’t have been able to explain why she trusted him so explicitly. After all, she didn’t remember how she’d ended up in his care, and all she knew about the situation was from what he’d told her.
What he hadn’t said, had avoided saying, was why he cared about her. Buffy had heard him. She wasn’t stupid. He’d been following Angel for years, trying to catch him, but that didn’t explain at all why he’d been keeping her safe. Nor did it explain why he’d been worried about her. She wasn’t that good a witness. Buffy knew that. Her memories of that night were hazy, confused and disjointed. Every time she tried to focus it just worsened and the little she could remember wasn’t much help. So why is he keeping me safe? Why did he care?
That was the thing Buffy couldn’t figure out.
Why is he so hell-bent on keeping me safe?
It was a puzzle that followed Buffy into her sleep, along with her tears.
He couldn’t face her.
Couldn’t dare to look at her. Not at this moment.
He was feeling like a caged animal. He was trapped here with Buffy, unable to do anything. Incapacitated by circumstances, Will could do nothing. He couldn’t help search for Nikki’s killer, or even mourn her properly.
There wasn’t a damn thing he could do about anything.
His hands were tied. Stuck waiting for some kind of a break on the case, Will was forced to rely on
others. For the third time in as many hours, Will looked over the crime scene notes. Without any pictures, Will had to rely on his memory of the scene itself. He flipped a page and stopped.
The stark description of Buffy’s injuries looked far worse on the page. Listed one by one, they catalogued hours of abuse at the hands of Angelus.
Four broken ribs.
One lateral slash to the forehead, requiring thirty-four internal stitches and finally closed with dermal glue.
Numerous defensive wounds on hands and forearms.
Contusions and bruising around the neck, breasts, thighs, and posterior.
Extensive vaginal bruising and tearing, consistent with a violent attack.
One deep bite mark on her left breast, skin broken in two spots.
DNA had been collected from her nails, the bite wound, and the rape kit.
Fingerprints had been found on her bag and one bloody palm print had been found on her torso.
Not all the evidence from the scene itself was included in his report, there was still unidentified trace elements to be identified. And once that was done someone had to analyze it all. Not that he needed some lab geek to tell him what he already knew.
Angelus and an unknown woman had picked up Buffy sometime before nine o’clock, which was when the concierge had noted their arrival. Why there was no mention of the other woman, Spike didn’t know, but he’d get Gunn to question the concierge again.
What happened in the hours between – he’d gotten the call just after three-thirty in the morning . . . Had they drugged her first thing? How long had she suffered? How long had she lain beside Angelus’ dead body?
Had Angelus been the only one to touch her?
The tox screen in the hospital had revealed fairly high levels of GHB and Ecstasy and Buffy couldn’t remember all the details. How had they drugged her?
Will pushed away from the wall, ignoring the stiffness in his bones and the fatigue pulling at his muscles. Standing in the bedroom doorway, he contemplated the sleeping girl.
He could just make out her features in the muted light. Somehow in her sleep, she’d kicked away the blankets, exposing one shapely leg and arm. A whimpered groan escaped her and Will drew closer, drawn to her despite his misgivings.
He admitted to himself, standing there in the darkness, that something drew her to him. Some ineffable quality she possessed kept him hovering in her orbit. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d known her forever, would know her forever. She was scared and alone, and had no one in the world but him. Will stepped closer to the bed, pulling the blanket to cover her completely. His gaze traveled the length of her, resting finally on her sleeping features. The swelling was disappearing by the moment, though the bruising still remained. With some luck, the nasty slash wouldn’t scar, and her. . . Tears. Silvery tracks curved over the swell of her cheek, and he watched with growing guilt as another made its way from her eye.
She’d cried herself to sleep.
She was still crying. . .
Will felt like the biggest jackass in the world. She had no one. No one to hold her, no one to comfort her when the fears overwhelmed – she only had him for support and . . . he’d been a jackass and left her alone.
Before he could change his mind, Will untied his boots and padded around the bed, determined not to wake her. The bed dipped beneath his weight and Buffy unconsciously moved, adjusting to the intrusion. Will laid down, his arms reaching for her, pulling her close. He brushed a kiss over her forehead, hovering over the wound, not daring to breathe until Buffy relaxed against him. She murmured something in her sleep that sounded suspiciously like “sorry” and snuggled closer.
A deep sigh broke from him and Will could feel the anger drifting away.
He’d keep his distance. Starting tomorrow.
He would.
I know, I haven't updated this one in so long I'm sure you've all forgotten it even existed by now. My only excuse is that I've been pretty sick for the last couple of months, and haven't had the energy to do much of anything. I seem to be on the mend now -- thank gods for the marvels of modern medicine and surgical techniques -- so hopefully the muse will resurrect itself and I'll be able to get more chapters out. Thanks for baring with me during this. I appreciate you all.