Chapter Twenty-Eight
The Perils of Drinking!
Angel stared at the lean figure that was doing his best to avoid being manhandled out of the bar. The bleach blond was stretching his hand out to a stool nearby.
“Least let me get my sodding coat, you git.”
The words were slurred but clear enough to annoy the security man who had hold of him.
“Look, just cool it, pal. I don’t care that you’re a famous rock star - curse at me again and I’ll throw your skinny ass out without calling you a cab.”
“Rock star? What the hell is going on?” Angel shook his head as he tried to take it in.
“Do what you bleeding like!” snarled Spike as he managed to grab his beloved duster, a low growl escaping before he could prevent it.
The security man grabbed Spike by the scruff of his neck, lifting him off the ground.
“Did you just growl at me? That’s it! You’re out of here!” He carried the still struggling Spike towards the door. He glanced over his shoulder to the barman. “Forget the cab, Mike, a walk will do him good.”
“The cab’s already on its way, Paulie,” said Mike as he watched him manhandle Spike away from the bar.
“Well, he can wait for it outside,” replied Paulie, glancing back over his shoulder.
The pair pushed past a bemused Angel and out the door. A minute or so later, the security man walked calmly back inside.
“Erm,” said Angel. “Was that –?”
“Spike Norman? Yeah, that was him.”
“So, you know him?” asked Angel, still trying to take it in.
“Who doesn’t? Hey, Mike, show this guy that Rolling Stone magazine you have back there. He didn’t recognise Spike!”
The two men laughed, and Angel walked to the bar and took the magazine from Mike’s hand.
“Sweet Jesus,” he whispered as there, in full colour, was a close up of Spike on stage, guitar in hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. “How on earth has he managed to be a rock star?”
Mike heard him and looked at him curiously. “Do you know him then? I thought that you didn’t recognise him?”
“Um…” Angel gathered his wits. “Er…I used to know him years ago. I never knew…”
“What? That he was a singer or that he’d be in a gay bar? I couldn’t believe it myself when he walked in. Spike and Buffy are the best known couple in rock and roll.”
“B…Buffy?” squeaked Angel. “This just gets better and better.”
“Yeah, I never figured him being gay, but then I suppose you can never tell. I mean, you don’t look it either.” Mike winked at him.
“I just came in for a drink,” said Angel, ignoring Mike’s ‘that’s what they all say’ look. “Shit! I need to go after Spike. Maybe he’s got the answers to what’s going on, and I’m standing here looking at a freaking magazine!”
Angel turned and ran out of the bar, pushing the magazine into his pocket as he did. As soon as he got outside, his nostrils were assaulted by the smell of fresh vomit. He glanced to the right and, sure enough, there was Spike, one hand on the wall, the other on his knee as he was doubled over, retching violently.
Angel sighed. Typical Spike, never could handle the drink. He walked towards him, and then paused. Hang on; Spike was human. But there was a little something off about him, too. Not pure human maybe? But how? That blew the theory that Angel had been forming about going back in time to before Spike had died. Just what was he in the middle of?
Spike groaned and stood up. He had managed to get his duster on, but it hung off one shoulder. He leant back against the wall.
“Oh, bollocks.”
His legs gave way and he slid slowly down the wall until his ass hit the sidewalk. He looked up as a pair of feet appeared in front of him.
“Spike?”
Spike glanced up, and up, finally having to tilt his head back to see the face above him. “Crap, how tall is this guy?” “Yeah, what of it?”
He put a hand on the floor beside him and tried, rather unsuccessfully, to stand up. Angel grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. Spike started to giggle.
“Like an elevator,” he chuckled.
“Yeah, right.”
“Thanks, mate. I just got kicked out of the bar,” said Spike, waving a hand expansively and almost overbalancing.
“I kind of gathered that,” said Angel, dryly.
“Hey, don’t I know you? You look very familiar.” Spike squinted at Angel, his eyes flashing amber for a second.
Angel couldn’t believe his eyes when Spike’s changed. He thought of the crazy ramblings that Drusilla had uttered, of getting Spike back. He roughly pushed Spike’s head to the side. Spike lashed out with a fist and pulled out of Angel’s grasp.
“Get off me, you git!” he snarled. He suddenly recognised who it was. “Angel? When did you get out of prison? Come to try to finish what you started, huh? Well, remember the only time that you bested me, you bastard, was when I didn’t see it coming. I see you now!” He tried to throw a punch, missed his target altogether, spun around and then went white and passed out, collapsing gracefully at Angel’s feet.
“Great, just great.” Angel looked down at Spike. “She did it. The crazy bitch managed to cross dimensions to find a Spike.” He had clearly seen the bite mark on Spike’s neck. It was Dru’s. He’d seen them often enough over the years. “I’m an ex-con and he’s a famous rock-star! Just my luck! How the hell did I come to be here? Where’s Dru if she came to this dimension?”
He knelt down beside Spike and slapped him gently on the face. “Spike? Come on, wake up. Need to get you home.”
Spike slowly raised his head. “’M staying at a hotel.”
“Oh? Okay, which one?”
“I dunno. I never got there.” He struggled once more to his feet. “I went there for a drink instead. They kicked me out, the gits.” He glared at the door to Willy’s.
“Yeah, I know.”
Spike craned his neck back, looking up at Angel. “You’re very tall. Did you know that your hair goes straight up?” Spike started to giggle.
“And yours is still radioactive!” snapped Angel. “Come on.” He put his arm around Spike.
“Do I know you?” asked Spike.
Angel sighed. “No. We’ve never met.” It was the truth after all.
“’M gonna throw up.”
“Oh, for God’s sake!”
Spike turned back to the wall and braced his hands against it as he was sick again. Angel stood behind him, a hand under his hip, holding him upright.
“Spike, are you a pain in the ass in every dimension?”
“Huh?” said Spike when he could.
“Nothing.”
Spike stood up and grinned at him. “So where are we going?”
“Home, Spike. I think you need to go home.”
“Okay. Need a drink first.”
Angel put his arm around him. “Trust me, Spike, you’ve had enough.”
Spike pouted prettily up at Angel. “Not enough. Need to forget.”
“Forget what?” Angel couldn’t help but smile down at him. Spike had always been a funny drunk. Seems like whichever version you were with, that was the same.
Spike burst out laughing. “Can’t remember!”
Angel laughed too. There was really nothing else that he could do but join in. They walked to the end of the street to wait for the cab that had been ordered. When it arrived, Spike half got in, half fell in to the rear seat, and Angel climbed in after him.
0000000
As the cab pulled away, a motorcycle roared into life. Its owner stowed a camera in a box on the rear of it and pulled his helmet on. He was smiling broadly. He didn’t bother to follow the cab; he’d heard the two men say that they were going to Spike’s home. He couldn’t wait to tell Ethan what he’d gotten. He knew that once Ethan saw the shots that he’d agree that now was the time to blow the story wide open.
00000000
“Oh, man! It’s Spike Norman,” said the cabbie excitedly as Angel pushed Spike across the seat and sat down next to him.
Spike rested his forehead against the window, enjoying the coolness. He tried to reply to the cabbie but his mouth had seemed to stop working. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, or rather, lost consciousness.
The driver felt uncomfortable at the silence that greeted him. “Er…where to?”
“Good question. Where the hell does he live?” Angel remembered the magazine. He pulled it out of his pocket and quickly flicked to the page where the feature on Spike was. Sure enough it mentioned that he lived in Sunnydale Heights. “Er…Sunnydale Heights, please.” He prayed that the driver didn’t need the house number.
“Oh, right. Going home,” replied the driver and he swiftly took them to their destination.
“Need to have the gates opened,” said the driver as he pulled up in front of the huge electric gates.
Angel shook Spike. “Spike, we need the number for the gates.”
“Hmmph,” replied Spike, barely stirring.
“Are we going to sit here all night?” snapped the driver.
“Good thing I’ve got a soul,” muttered Angel.
“What was that?” asked the driver.
“Just said that I’ll get it.”
Angel climbed out of the car and walked to the keypad where the combination could be entered by hand. If he couldn’t get it to open, he’d just get rid of the cab and climb over the fence.
“I wonder…?”
Angel keyed in Buffy’s birth date. It was worth a try. To his delight, the gates began to open. He jumped back in the cab and stared open mouthed as they went up the long driveway to the house. The drive and the house were lit up bright against the dark night sky.
“Wow,” muttered Angel.
He rummaged through Spike’s pockets to find the money for the cab, thinking that he could pay for it since he lived in a goddamn mansion.
He gave the driver the notes including a big tip and pulled Spike from the rear seat. Spike roused a little as the fresh air hit him. He peered blearily around.
“Oh. Home,” he said.
“Have you got a key, then?” asked Angel.
“’Course I have.”
Spike dug his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a key ring. He weaved his way to the door and got the key in at the third attempt. He swung the door open and winced as a shrill buzzing noise hit his ears.
“Alarm,” he said in explanation. “Got to turn it off.” He stood on the door step.
“Go and turn it off then, Spike, for God’s sake,” said Angel, giving him a bit of a push.
Spike fell over the threshold and landed on his knees, his head spinning. “Just need a little rest.” He curled up into a ball on the floor.
Angel tried to go in, but this dimension still obviously required a vampire to have an invite. “Crap! Spike, invite me in!”
Spike opened one eye. “Door’s open. What’s stopping you?” He closed his eye and curled up even smaller.
The buzzing sound stopped. Angel glared at Spike’s inert body. “Spike! Wake up! Invite me in!” It was no good. Spike was out for the count.
Angel cursed as he heard sirens. “Of course, Mr. Famous Rock-Star’s house is hooked up to the police!” He tried once more to rouse Spike but as the squad car began to come up the driveway, he thought that it was safer to disappear. If he was an ex-con in this dimension, no good could come of an encounter with the cops. With a last frustrated glance at Spike, Angel loped off into the grounds at the rear of the house.
The two police officers looked at each other as they saw that the front door was wide open. They cautiously got out of the car and walked to the door. They could see the figure lying on the floor in the hall. The hair colour and leather duster told them that it was the owner of the property, Spike Norman, even before they saw his face.
“Crap,” whispered the first, a tall skinny man.
He and his partner concentrated harder on their surroundings. Had he been attacked? The first officer crouched down next to him as his partner stepped past to secure their position from behind.
Spike groaned and rolled over onto his back.
“Sir? Are you hurt?”
Spike just groaned again in reply, eyes still tightly closed.
The officer began to check him over. As he pushed Spike’s duster to the side so that he could see Spike’s torso, Spike lashed out with his left arm, catching the officer on the side of his head.
“Get off!” snarled Spike.
“You okay, Jim?” asked the tall officer’s partner, seeing him sent reeling with the blow.
“Yeah, Dave, I’m okay. He’s out of it. Don’t think that he knew that he did it. He’s maybe been knocked out.”
Spike staggered to his feet at the same time that Jim did. Spike glanced at the tall man and frowned. What was it that he remembered about a tall man? Shit! Angel.
Jim reached a hand out to steady the very wobbly Spike and was rewarded for his efforts with another wild punch being aimed at him.
“You’re not fucking touching me again,” roared Spike, his mind full of the day that Angel attacked him with a baseball bat.
He hit Jim on his shoulder, but the momentum of his punch made him overbalance and he fell headlong onto Jim, both winded as they landed in a heap on the floor.
Dave ran over and pulled Spike off his partner. Spike was looking a bit green by this stage but still tried to shake him off. Spike couldn’t understand how there came to be two of them.
“He doesn’t have a concussion, Jim, he reeks of liquor. He’s wasted.”
“He’s coming with us,” said Jim. “Being hit once I can take, but not twice. Read him his rights if he can understand them. Assaulting a police officer. A night in the cells might cool him down a bit.”
Between them, they cuffed Spike’s wrists behind his back then half carried, half dragged him to the squad car and bundled him into the rear seat. All the time, Spike kept up a steady diatribe of what he thought of them for hauling him away from his home.
“Will you shut the hell up!” snarled Jim, glaring at Spike over his shoulder.
“Will when you bleeding let me out. Not content with sodding hitting me, got to kidnap me now. Didn’t know you were out of prison.” Spike was lying across the seat, feeling decidedly unwell and still under the impression that Angel was there.
“Just leave him, Jim. I don’t think that he knows where he is,” said Dave.
“Yeah, but if he starts saying that I hit him…”
“Won’t matter if he does. We both know that you didn’t. He’s so drunk, I doubt if he even knows who he is,” soothed Dave. “Hey, buddy.” He called to Spike. What’s your name?”
“Huh?” Spike had almost passed out again. “William,” he mumbled.
Dave started to laugh. “See I told you. Can’t even get his name right. Spike Norman. William! Where do you think that he got that from?”
“He better not throw up in here,” grumbled Jim.
Spike was monosyllabic whilst he was being processed, much to the relief of the officers, who had decided that they had heard quite enough of him muttering about angels and vampires. A doctor checked him out before he was taken to the cells. Spike swore at him as he was given an injection to prevent him from vomiting again.
“That bleeding hurt. Why won’t you all just let me sodding sleep? Where’s my coat?” Spike looked around blearily. “I need my coat…and a drink.”
“You’ve had more than enough alcohol for one evening. You can have your coat back when you leave.”
“Want my coat,” mumbled Spike grumpily.
A police officer walked into the room where the doctor and Spike were.
“Is he good to go?”
“Yes. He’ll have a terrible hangover in the morning, but now that I’ve put a stop to the vomiting, he should be okay. Keep a close watch on him though. Wouldn’t do the force much good if Spike Norman died in custody,” replied the doctor wryly.
“Angel tried to kill me. Was here,” said Spike, looking round the room. “Where’s he gone? Kidnapped me, he did. Can I go home?”
The officer took his arm and helped him to his feet. “How about a bed? Will that do?”
“Bed.” Spike grinned. “Bed’s good.”
He allowed himself to be led to a holding cell. They were putting him in on his own, on account of his intoxication. The officer leaned Spike against the wall as he removed the belt from his jeans.
“Hey! Gerrof! Bleeding poofter!”
Spike tried to wave the officer’s hands away but ended up sliding down the wall instead. The officer finally got Spike onto the narrow bench that served as a bed, sans belt and boots.
“Okay, I’m going to ask one more time. Do you want to call anyone?” Spike had been asked repeatedly but as yet hadn’t told them a number.
Spike shook his head, and then squeezed his eyes shut as he was hit by a wave of nausea. He flopped down onto the bench and was softly snoring by the time that the officer had locked the door.
“Hey, Phil, how’s our celebrity guest?” asked Jim, who had just finished his shift.
“Sleeping now,” replied Phil.
“I looked him up, and he was pulled in for stealing liquor and breaking and entering when he was a kid. He was called James Norman then. No charges though. Looks like he still hits the bottle, huh? There he was on the floor just inside his own front door.” Phil chuckled and shook his head as he waved goodbye to his colleague and went home.
Tbc
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