Chapter Thirty – A Moment of Pure Happiness
He had a little voice in his head, it was small and posh and sounded very like Roger Wyndham-Pryce.
It was telling him he had managed to fuck this up. No. Roger would never use that word. Roger felt that curse words were the product of a lazy mind. He was inadequate yet again, mediocre. He should have done something more—he racked his brains. He was missing something, something obvious that had been there all along. Perhaps they could have spared Darla for what Wes was sure she was about to do.
When Wesley started to hear that voice, he usually rang Ravi and spent too much money catching up. He felt a pang of sadness that his friend was gone. It hit him then that he had never properly grieved for Ravi, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Darla plunged a stake through her heart and the sound of a newborn’s wail filled the alley.
They all stood in the alley steadily getting pelted by the rain watching as Angel crouch and wrap the child in his leather trench coat. They surged forward but Cordelia held out an arm, keeping the rest of the Angel Investigations team back to let Angel have this moment alone to hold his prophesized son.
The child was a miracle. He squirmed in his father’s arms and let out a wail that rivaled the sirens that were blaring in the distance.
Angel looked back up at Cordelia with tears in his eyes, and she returned that look of love they didn’t think anyone noticed. That look spoke of whispered promises and the million little things that they would do; could do for each other, for this child. It was the look of family.
Wes felt himself get swept up in the moment. So much had happened in the last three days that it was surreal to even just see the child.
Somewhere at the back of his head, Wes heard alarm bells. A prophesized child of a vampire, he should have reported this to No. 9.
Wes dismissed it, Spike would understand. With everything that was happening here, he might be a bit frustrated his own offspring was not as unique as they thought it would be, but he would get why Wes couldn’t fill them in right away. He would get to it later.
Then the vampire looked back down at his son. The look on his face was difficult to describe, partly awe and partly terror, elation but also joy. Wes would have thought the sustained high-pitched wail should be grating to his vampiric ears but it wasn’t, or it didn’t seem to be. The cries were signs life, Wes supposed wondering how he was able to make his mind think like that. When they were all staring at this miracle, Angel’s child was breathing and screaming and alive. And the crying was proof.
Angel turned to them, turning to lock eyes with Wesley and show off his son, When he stiffened. Wes’s unease, the feelings he ignored at the onset of Darla’s sacrifice resurfaced and solidified.
They all stood around, letting Angel have these first few precious moments with his son, like idiots.
It hit him like a runaway freight train.
Wesley felt his insides go cold. He felt his whole consciousness concentrate into a single point, dim around the edges and his vision pulled back like a Kubrik Vertigo shot, the sickly revelation of it scrawled through him, making him sweat despite the cold.
Bloody buggering motherfucking bollocks.
The last time he had laser focused like this was when he was just about to die.
He couldn’t believe that he could have forgotten. It was the one singular detail that brought them all together. It apparently had not occurred to anyone else.
He shoved Cordelia aside and tore toward Angel reaching him just as he began to wobble. Once he was at his friend’s side he saw how forgone Angel was, his eyes were glazed over, he looked like it was taking all he had to fight back his demon visage.
Wesley grabbed him by the arms.
“Angel!” He exclaimed.
Angel looked at Wesley his eyes glowed.
“His name is Connor.”
He collapsed, leaving Wesley holding the squalling infant.
A hundred miles away Cordelia was yelling. She had probably been yelling since Wes had started running, demanding to know what his damage was, but her voice was suddenly present like the volume had been switched on.
He turned desperately to see if anyone else had figured it out. Everyone looked confused or angry, except Fred. She looked terrified.
Cordy marched up to him about to demand what the hell he was playing at, but then she realized it. He recognized the horrible moment of realization slide across her face, saw it mirror his own.
At that moment nothing was registering to Wesley other than the squalling infant in his arms and the thought that he needed to get the child to a safe place.
And there was only one safe place he could think of.
*****
No. 9. The cabbie pulled over and Wes paid him exorbitantly, handing him a sheaf of notes without paying attention to how much he was paying.
Wesley felt like someone had pulled him from both ends and made him expel everything inside him that made him him. He felt scrubbed clean and adrenalin wasted, like little ants were crawling around behind his eyeballs. He hadn’t felt like this since that train in Vienna and that night in Prague months ago.
Fred smiled encouragingly as he rang the doorbell to the house.
The door opened to display an odd tableau of Alex, Spike, Buffy, Raj and a Chinese fellow that Wes didn’t recognize. He didn’t know he was going to do it until he laid eyes on her, but the second he saw Buffy, he crossed the room and pulled her in for a very un-English hug.
“I’ve underestimated you all this time.” He said. “I’m so incredibly sorry."
He could feel her stiffen. He knew she had no idea where this sudden burst of affection was coming from; truthfully he wasn’t sure where it was coming from either. But the door opened and he saw Buffy, the slayer who had faced Angelus at sixteen. She had been only a little older than Alex when she had faced him and taken him down. And he had tortured her for weeks before striking. He couldn't imagine dealing with ANgelus himself when he was 16.
Wes had never properly appreciated just what the slayer had faced as a teenager, he had underestimated the impact of his friend’s face sneering at him in hatred.
“Hi, Wes.” She said awkwardly as she reached her hands around to hug Wesley back.
“Oxford?”
Wesley released Buffy and pulled Spike into an equally fierce hug. To his surprise the blond vampire returned the hug instantly, like this was not the first time they had ever hugged.
“Why on earth are dressed like a dentist on holiday?”
Spike released him and scowled.
“What’s goin’ on, Oxford?” he demanded, brushing at the front of his cashmere sweater, clearly uncomfortable in his new get up. “Not that we’re not happy to see you and all.”
Wes turned to Fred who was looking at him wide-eyed. She carefully stepped forward presenting the baby. Neither of them wanted to move Connor too much. The baby was fussy as hell and very little seemed to sooth him. Neither of them wanted to wake him.
“This is Connor.” The watcher said. “He’s Angel’s son." He waited a beat to let that information land, before dropping the next bomb. "With Darla.”
It took a second for the news to be processed. Buffy and Spike reacted instantly both of them seemed to have come to the right conclusion as to why Angel's son was now in England. But Raj and the Asian fellow both looked at Alex for an explanation. She looked flabbergasted. Wes reckoned that this hadn’t happened in her reality.
“No. No. No. No. Wes, tell me—”
“Bloody hell.”
“Fuck.”
“What?” Raj interjected. “What’s going on?”
“Angel’s soul. Angel’s soul comes with a loophole.” Buffy said in a small voice. “A moment of perfect happiness. And…”
She trailed off, Raj paled a little, and the Asian man was looking around still obviously unclear on the significance of what was going on around him. The quiet after Buffy’s realization stretched on. Until finally,
“Hi, I’m Fred.” Fred suddenly said quietly so as not to startle the tiny child she was carrying. “I’ve never been to England before. You have a lovely home.”
****
Spike set a tumbler liberally filled with amber liquid in front of Wesley. He placed one in front of Fred as well. She smiled her thanks and took the glass in both hands. They had been ushered into the living room around the large couch, Raj draped Wes and Fred with blankets. Simon set the infant Connor up in a drawer from a credenza lined with blankets and Angel’s duster. He fussed every time someone tried to remove it.
Wes took a sip from his whisky. He was pleased that the child had retained a memory of his father somehow. He tamped down on that voice that threatened to whisper again. If he had thought about it, if they had only prepared for it to happen maybe it could have been prevented.
The adrenalin was starting to ebb now he had made it to the safe haven. He felt like everything he had thought about in the last twenty-four hours had been to get he, and Fred and Connor here, and now they could regroup and figure out what to do next. Of course, now that he could actually think about what was going on, he realized that he had, essentially presented two people who already had enough to deal with, yet another apocalypse.
Perhaps he should have taken care of it on his own. Always the side kick, never the bride.
Alex entered the room second later with bowls full of steaming Macaroni and Cheese.
“Sorry. S’not much, but it’s all I know how to make.” She said sheepishly.
“It looks delicious.” Fred said graciously, Wes noticed she had drank half the liquor in the tumbler. She tucked into her share of the mac and cheese with alarming gusto.
They had eaten on the plane, mechanically and absently, more as something to do rather than hunger. Or at least he had, Fred he imagined ate in small bird-like bits. Apparently he was wrong on that count. Wes looked down at his own bow of an angry orange looking concoction and realized he was ravenous.
“So Angelus is back and terrorizing California.”
“I don’t know about California.” Wes said. “he’s gone after Cordelia, but she’s fled to Sunnydale.”
“To find Willow.” Buffy concluded.
Wes noticed Spike fidget at the mention of the red-headed witch. Wes suddenly realized he had never heard Spike mention any of Buffy’s school friends in the entire time he was with them. He realized belatedly that perhaps that had been by design.
Idiot. He had essentially told the his friend's girlfriend that her ex-boyfriend had gone homicidal again. He had forgotten that Buffy considered Angelus to be a bit of her personal monster.
What a right mess this was.
Buffy sat down at the table looking simultaneously 16-years-old and a hundred and two, She kept staring at the newborn and looking down at her own abdomen. After a few moments of silence, Spike rose and started to pace. Simon was examining Connor in his drawer; and Alex and Raj were looking between Spike and Buffy and having a strange non-verbal conversation.
Wes worried suddenly that maybe he made a terrible mistake.
“I, I’m sorry It was the safest place I could think to keep the child.”
Spike stopped mid-stride and shook his head.
“Bollocks, Oxford, of course you should have come here. S’ one place Peaches won’t think to look. And the boy’s family, after all, int’he?”
The baby fussed and shifted, Both Wes and Fred tensing at the sight of it. Buffy stood to pick him up, Wes and Fred both reacted, but were too late. Connor woke and let out a huge yowl.
Buffy looked like she wanted very much to put him back down, but was too scared to move. She looked at Fred beseechingly.
“Don’t worry.” Fred said standing to smile encouragingly at Buffy. I couldn’t calm him either. He slept the whole way on the plane just fine though. Maybe he’s hungry?”
The baby was on a full wail, Wes fumbled to grab one of the three bottles they had filled with formula.
Simon, however reached for the child.
“May I?” He asked a very relieved Buffy. She surrendered the child so quickly she may as well have passed him like a rugby ball.
Spike’s eyes flew from Buffy to the dark-haired man. Wes sensed some tension there, he wondered what had transpired earlier in the day.
“Nother one of your experiments, Doc?”
Ah, a Genesis problem. He didn't think the vampire would be one to harbour grudges. The boy’s smile was tentative. He crossed the room and gently positioned the child in Spike’s arms.
“Something like that.” He said levelly. Wes was impressed Spike could be intimidating if he wanted to be.
To the surprise of everyone in the room, once he was plopped in the vampire’s arms, Connor quieted, shifted, and went to sleep.
At the vampire’s questioning eyebrow, Simon shrugged.
“Was he crying on the plane?” The boy asked.
“No come to think of it.”
“Right, then,” Simon said, he smiled a little triumphantly, seemingly pleased to have figured somehting out. Wesley figured this must be the inside man. “His mother was a vampire, his father was a vampire, he probably finds most heartbeats irritating because he’s used to hearing only his own. What happened to the mother?”
That seemed to jog Buffy out of her daze.
“Wait--" She said. "Darla’s dead, Angel killed her years ago!”
Wes sighed.
“It’s rather a long story.” he said drinking deeply from his tumbler of whisky and pinching the bridge of his nose.
“All the more important to start now.” Buffy said. There was an underlying of steel in her tone, and when he looked at her, she had crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side determinedly.
Wes was familiar with the Scoobie “resolve face” concept. He took a deep breath and started.
“Darla was brought back by Wolfram and Hart last year and it appears She and Angel re-kindled their relationship.” He paused awkwardly to gauge her reaction but when she impatiently noded for him to continue he forged on. “For er, an evening. She arrived three days ago with the er—news.” He finished his drink, Spike topped it off, unasked. Wesley had tremendous affection for him. “Darla’s dead once more, sacrificed herself to save Connor.”
“Sacrificed?” Buffy said. She pressed her hand to her abdomen.
Spike was instantly alert, in a smooth movement, he re-deposited Connor in his drawer. And stood behind Buffy's chair.
“She couldn’t deliver, something in her vampiric nature, we're not entirely sure.” Wes said. "so she staked herself."
“Oxford—the baby is human right?” Spike asked tentatively, he had pulled the drawer to the edge of the table, near him and Buffy.
“I think that can be said definitively.” Simon piped up. “He had all the reflexes I know about, his heartbeat is good and he seems to be thriving. Did you weigh him yesterday?”
He should have thought of that. Of course! Baby weight was one of the best ways to see if a baby was healthy. He was just about to stammer something, embarrassedly, but Fred spoke up.
“Sorta.” She said. “He’s about eight and a half pounds more or less. I weighted him on a regular scale. Not the most precise way, I know.”
“No, that’s perfect.” Simon said making a note on a pad. “Weighed yourself without him and they weighed yourself holding him?”
Fred nodded. Wes was floored, he hadn’t even thought of that.
“Right, we should probably have a more comprehensive check up.” He shared a meaningful look with Raj.
Wesley noticed the exchange. Spike had called the boy “Doc” which mean he must be some sort of physician.
“You are the one who’s been helping us aren’t you?” he concluded. “Raj’s friend, Simon?”
Simon nodded. “Yes. Just checking in on Buffy’s babies.”
“Babies?” Wes repeated. “Plural?”
“Yes, 30 fingers, 30 toes, and one massive slayer.” Buffy said. “I’m really hoping they take after me and not Mister-ginormous-head over here.”
Spike looked affronted.
“The only big head I have, pet is figurative.” He shot back. “That and my c—”
“Shut up, Spike.” Buffy interjected quickly.
Wes hesitated for a second, but he was just too drained to try and think of the implications so instead he just went with his gut. This was a happy thing, and they were all over-thinking it. He felt himself truly relax for the first time since he saw the soul leave Angel’s eyes. He found himself smiling,
“Congratulations, Buffy.”
She looked at him like he was crazy for a moment and then burst into tears. Spike had her in an instant, his arms around her shoulders murmuring comfort into her hair. Buffy melted into him instantly.
Wes, flabbergasted, looked at Alex and Raj who both shrugged.
After a few moments of tense sobbing Buffy broke away from Spike.
“I’m sorry, I’ll—I’m sorry. I need to go upstairs.” And she fled the room.
Spike watcher her go, but stayed put. He sighed and took a seat, ignoring everyone's bewildered looks.
“Are you going to go after her?” Wesley prompted after a few seconds.
The vampire's face was a well composed mask of nonchalance that everyone saw through, though it didn't look like he was trying too hard to convince anyone.
“Needs to sort out this one on her own, I think.” He said. “been a long and eventful day, Oxford. Not everything’s about you.”
He poured himself another generous helping of whiskey.
Wesley followed his look toward a suddenly embarassed Alexis and a concerned Raj, and nodded realizing he had interrupted some sort of domestic storm.
“I can see that.” He said.
“So it’s just the two of you, then?” Asked Raj in a blatant attempt to change the subject. “Everyone else is in California?”
Wes shook his head. “Fred, Myself and er, Gwen Raiden.”
*****
“English!” Gunn demanded. “What the hell going on?”
“Angel was holding his son.” Wesley supplied slowly, trying not to be frustrated he had to spell it out to everyone. “A complete bloody impossibility just three days ago.”
“He’s lost his soul!” Fred filled them in. Wes grinned at her thankfully. He was sure she had put it together earlier.
Gunn swore under his breath. On the ground a few yards away, they could hear a long sustained groan. Cordelia whirled around, suddenly all business. She was the only one who had ever witnessed Angelus in full and she had the most experience fighting him.
Next to Buffy anyway.
“We don’t have much time.” Cordy said severely. “I’m not going to lie, this is like, really bad. Like hell is up there,” She held her hand over her head. She lowered it. “and here is a lower place where we think Xander Harris’s plans are a good idea, and even lower is where we are.” She bit her lip and tried to look brave. There was little worse in the world that Cordy trying to look brave. “We have officially crossed over into the world of bad. We need to get to Sunnydale. Pronto. We need to talk to Willow Rosenberg.”
There was something that cut through the fog, Wes had been making a hundred lists constantly changing the first thing that he should do, the first person they needed to contact. He had the last list to about five and the denizens of Sunnydale weren’t in the top three. He knew wasn’t going to Sunnydale—and neither was Connor. Sunnydale would be the first place Angelus looked for them, and if he remembered correctly, Angel still had an invite to most of the Scooby houses.
Wes knew where he needed to get the child, but he had no idea how he was going to get there.
“How much time do we have?” Gunn questioned nervously glancing over his shoulder at the heap of vampire. “Does he just get up as Angelus?”
“No one knows!” Cordelia said she looked angry. Helplessness tended to aggravate rather than despair the seer. “No one but Buffy, which is unfortunate, you know because of the whole being dead thing. ”
“I’ll go see if there’s anyone in the underground that will know about a witch.” Gunn said. He cut off Cordelia. “Ah, ah, ah, I know you have a go-to girl on this whole thing, but I figure that, whenever magic is in the works another set of hands ain’t such a bad idea.”
He turned to Wesley for approval and his friend’s deference warmed the former watcher, while simultaneous made him feel extremely uncomfortable about how he was thinking of running away with Connor.
Cordy, Gunn, and Fred were all looking at him now, like he was the boss, which he supposed was the case.
He felt even more guilty for what he said next, because although it made the most sense, it as also what he wanted the most.
“I’ll take Fred and figure out a safe place to keep Connor.” He said. “Cordy, you go Sunnydale and see if between Rupert and Willow they can find a way to re-soul him.”
Cordy raised her eyebrows.
“Got any spare Orbs of Thessulah around?” She asked only half joking.
Wesley arched an eyebrow—he was unsure what she was talking about. The name of it sounded vaguely familiar, but most obscure mystical had started bleeding together in his head, obscure until he could contextualize them.
“A what?”
Cordy waived him away—but an unexpected voice cut in.
“I got you, candy cane.” Said the Host.
They all turned around to see the demon standing there in a blue suit with a bright yellow tie. He was holding a crackly glass sphere.
“Where did you get that?” Wes asked.
“I’ve been using it as a paperweight.” The green-skinned demon admitted embarrassedly. “So should we hit Angel over the head with it or what?”
Cordelia’s eyes widened in panic, she looked around wild-eyed to be sure Angel was still where she left him, only calming when she had confirmed it. The supine form of Angelus was motionless on the wet pavement. In his time in LA, Wes had never seen Cordy this frazzled, and since she was the only one who knew what they were up against, so her worry was not a good sign.
Despite her hesitation, Gunn had approached the vampire who very suddenly shot up and grabbed him, pulled the black man against him and bit down viciously.
“Wesley, go!” Cordy hissed.
“But—”
Cordy didn’t answer. Instead, she leveled the tranq gun they had brought for Darla and fired off a shot straight at Angel—Angelus’s back. The vampire growled but fell away from Gunn.
“Go!”
Wesley grabbed Fred’s hand and tore out of the alleyway to the waiting convertible.
Once they were settled Wes tore out of the smaller street and found himself on the highway on his way to LAX.
“Well, this is goin’ to be terrifyin’” Said Fred, he realized that she was trembling, he had handed her the child without thinking and now she was cuddling him close. “There, there, little one, we’ll figure this out. Your dad will find a way back.”
Wesley didn’t have the heart to tell her that’s not how it worked. He didn’t know what he was going to tell her about Angelus, he hadn’t even figured out what he was going to tell her about where they were going, but he knew that above all things he needed to get the child to the safety of No. 9 and talk to Buffy.
Despite already being in a car hurtling down the highway toward a way out of Los Angeles, and feeling the irrepressible pull toward No. 9, he exited the highway and made for his apartment.
As soon as he exited Fred glanced around wildly.
Wes steeled himself, it would be day soon, how much could a few extra hours hurt? Especially if it could mean the answer to a very pressing question.
“Where are we goin’? Fred asked him. “are we goin’ to be meetin’ up with the others?”
“No.” Wes said grimly. “We’re going to see Gwen Raiden.”
*****
Gwen Raiden lived in a dilapidated building in the rougher side of East LA.
Wes parked the car and hesitated. His contacts had told him she could be found in a drab, 70’s-style building. This was not what he had been expecting.
Wes was suddenly very mindful of the vulnerable infant being held by spindly thin Fred, but it couldn’t be helped.
The stood outside the building, careful to remain in direct sunlight.
“So what do we do now?”
Bugger. He was drawing a blank. He had no idea what he was meant to do now, he had gotten as far as where she lived and told to show up at an address at a particular time, but was told nothing more about how to get in touch with Gwen Raiden.
He was just about to dial the number of his contact when he heard a low, purring voice from behind them.
“Well, well, well, haven’t I killed you already? Strange what makes men come back,”
“There’s just a certain allure of the danger.” Wesley said silkily, unsure of where the sudden surge of confidence was coming from, but deciding to roll with it. “And then there’s the spandex.”
He turned and raised an eyebrow. She was standing with her arms folded across her chest leaning on an exposed beam. She looked impressed.
“Well, we’ve got the bassist and the tambourine player.” She said with a half-meant sneer. “But where’s the frontman?”
That stung. Wesley fought to keep how much it stung from showing on his face.
“It’s rather a long story.” Wes said. “Shall we go somewhere where we can discuss it that’s a little more, private?”
Her eyebrows shot up.
“Private, huh? Did anyone tell you my going rate?”
Wesley shifted uncomfortably. He glanced sideways at Fred. He wondered how much he could possibly disclose around her. He suddenly wasn’t sure if dragging her along was the best idea.
“I was hoping to capitalize on your er, better nature.”
That made her laugh. Wes and Fred exchanged looks. Gwen Raiden stopped abruptly.
“You are really serious. You think I owe you one for killing you, don’t you?” She said.
“Not really.” Wesley said evenly. “We’re here about Angel.”
Gwen nodded; she looked marginally more interested now. Her eyes slid over to Fred and she studied Connor with interest.
“Who’s is he, Sunny of Sunnybrooke farm?”
“Sunny? Me?” Fred stammered looking unsure and uncomfortable, she always seemed to get a little bit tongue tied around women like Gwen and Cordy. “Uhm, he’s not mine if that’s what you’re askin’”
Gwen’s eyes flicked over to Wes her smirk was palpable.
“I’ll say.” She said. “because you two weigh the same thing. So who’s is the little bundle of joy?”
“He’s Angel’s.” Wes interjected. He chanced a glance down the side walk, it was bright but he couldn’t help the niggling feeling that Angel knew where they were. “Please can we discuss this where we aren’t in danger of being disturbed?”
“Angel the dead guy?”
“To whom you owe your life.”
That made her frown. She glared at him, clearly working her head around the concept must have left a foul taste in her mouth.
“Follow me.” She said tersely. And with that she turned on her heel and preceded them into the building.
The place was dingy as hell, it smelled like stale beer and ammonia. The electropath lead them through a successive series of shabby halls and up a cramped staircase to a hallway with a keypad mounted on a wall. Gwen input the code and pushed aside the wall, revealing a palace.
Wes felt himself sigh in relief. Fred leaned over and whispered:
“Looks like she might have some of those international crime connections you were hopin’ for.”
They walk in and a very attractive female butler walked over with a carafe of orange juice. Gwen Raiden threw herself dramatically onto the couch.
“Now, so what was it about Angel that you wanted to discuss?”
Wesley shifted uncomfortable, “So you know him as a force for good, but the thing that makes him good, his soul well its—”
Gwen raised an impatient eyebrow.
“What?”
“I think the word he’s looking for is gonzo.” A voice cut in.
Wesley’s blood went cold. They had forgotten to shut the door in their surprise at their surroundings. Angel was framed in the door way grinning at them slyly. Gwen Raiden seemed disturbed, but she shook it off.
“What the fuck is going, vampire?” she demanded playfully. She stood to march over, sashaying as she went. She ignored Wesley's protests. “Why don’t you c—”
To her surprise Wesley grabbed a pant leg and pulled her back.
“No, Ms. Raiden, Stop. That isn’t Angel, you can’t invite him in.”
Angel’s smile was dark, although the glint in his eye and the sheer malevolence in his gaze made it clear this wasn’t the vampire they were accustomed to dealing with. The Leather pants helped.
Even Gwen recognized it then, the retort died in her throat.
Angel’s grin was predatory as he looked her over. “Gone, left the building and all that. Now I get to maybe have a little fun.” He stopped and shook his head. “But that can wait until I finish my business, you know what they about business and pleasure.” He didn’t wait for a reply, he turned to Wes all the smarm gone from his face. “Give me my son, Wesley.”
Wes straightened his spine. There was little Angel could do to them in here, especially when he was holding the best bit of leverage in the world.
“Absolutely not.”
Angel’s smile was reminiscent of a smirk.
“You were smart.” He said. “Smarter than I gave you credit for. I would have expected you to have sent him with Cordelia and not gone and taken him on your own.”
Wesley knew that barb was pointed and willed himself not to react. Angel seemed to be waiting for him to react as well.
“but, this, Gwen Raiden, was not what I expected. Can you trust her Wesley? Really trust her?”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Gwen demanded.
“Shut up, freak.”
Her eyes widened and she launched herself at him. Angel made quick work of her, slapping her aside and ignoring the jolt of energy her touch triggered.
“Surprise!” he said with a grin. “Now you get to know what going around with me is really like.”
Gwen wiped the blood from her mouth and grabbed Angel’s face shooting him with as many volts as she can. Angel’s eyes widened and he seized up his mouth fell open as he tried to resist it, but soon he was on the floor shuddering and heaving.
“Ditto, buddy.” Gwen said angrily. She dashed behind the invisible partition. And rolled her shoulders.
Wesley had searched fruitlessly with something to fight with, the butler eventually handed him a crossbow.
Angel managed to pull himself together. He smiled ferally.
“You aren’t going to use that against me.” He spat.
“Try me.”
Angel leaned against the partition.
“Oh, I don’t have to.” He says. “Go on. Go on, Wesley. Here’s the target.” He spread his arms welcoming the bolt he knew was not going to come.
Wesley was close, so close to doing it, but in the last minute he remembered that like it or not, Angel had a destiny. His hesitation was noted.
“See you and I both know you love me too much. You think I’m too important. To the powers that be.” Angel tutts and shakes his head. “Once a watcher, always a watcher.”
He meant it to be derogatory, he meant it as an attack on Wesley and his insecurities, but mentioning his past only seemed to steel Wes’s resolve.
Gwen Raiden, it seemed, was not to be ignored. She reached over with her gloved hands.
“Gimme the crossbow. I’ll do it.”
“No.”
The smile disappeared from Angelus’s face, it was replaced with grave seriousness and just a hint of manic glee.
“I’m getting bored.” He said airly. “Give me back my son, Wesley, or I will go out and I will kill a person an hour until you give me back my son." He grinned, an expression Wesley was used to. This time it sent a chill down his spine. "And it will all be your fault because you could have killed me just now and you pussied out like the coward that you are and always will be.”
It would have been so easy, so easy to give in, to let himself feel like the failure he was, but he was spurned on by the knowledge that that was exactly what Angelus wanted. He straightened his spine.
“You will not.” He said as firmly as he could. He couldn't do anything about the pounding in his chest, but he did have some leverage. “Because if you do that, I will kill your son.”
Angelus threw his head back and laughed.
Wes had thought people had only ever done that in the movies. He imagine telling Spike about this and almost heard the blond vampire chuckle in his head. Bloody drama queen. That made him feel a smidgeon better.
“An innocent child?” Angelus asked between bursts of mirth. “I’ll call that bluff. Hand him over, Wes, or else I will tell selling-it-to-the-highest-bidder here just who is after him and she’ll hand him over. ”
Next to Wes, Gwen Raiden growled.
“Alright, I don’t like it.” She spat at Angelus.
Wes’s face didn’t budge, he held out a hand and Gwen stilled.
“We’re going now.” He said calmly. He summoned as much mettle as he could. “and if I hear that you have gone on a killing spree I will kill your offspring. I’m half convinced that he’ll bring about the apocalypse so perhaps karma remain in my favor.”
Angelus stopped laughing.
“Leaving?” he mocked. “How do you think that you are—”
Wesley let the bolt fly and his lips twisted into an uncharacteristic smirk. Angelus looked down at his chest surprised to see the feathered tail of a tranq buried in it.
Wesley flipped open his phone.
“I have Angelus at the corner of Clement and Martin Luther King.” He said to a baffled Cordelia. “I shot him with a tranq. Fred and I are heading for a safe house.”
“Where are we goin’?” Asked Fred looking at Wesley oddly.
Wesley turned to Gwen Raiden.
“By any chance do you have access to a jet?” he asked. "I have a bit of urgent business in England. I'd prefer if it was something discreet."
Gwen’s smile was sly.
“I do know a sheik who owes me a favor.”
****
“So where is this chick now?” Asked Alex.
“At the Savoy.” Wes said. “She doesn’t come to London without staying a night there apparently.”
The damphyr arched an eyebrow. “The Savoy? P.I. Business doing well, huh?”
Wes blanched, money was not something he was particularly comfortable discussing, it was times like this he usually turned to Cordelia to take the lead, but clearly Alex was not going to give him an inch. “I was er, hoping that, considering who will most benefit from her services—perhaps—”
“She’s fucking with you, Oxford,” Spike’s voice cut in wearily. His face was impassive but his jawline was tight. “I better be paying for results.”
Wesley’s concern softened. He looked worriedly after his friend.
“She is the best bet I’ve come across.” He said, but then hesitated which Spike caught immediately. At his scowl, Wes shrugged. “It’s un-dead neurosurgery, there is no precedent, but the theory of it is sound.”
Spike’s answering cocky grin didn’t looked forced per se and yet Wes knew he was forcing it. Moreover, he knew Alex would notice it as well. He locked eyes with her and she bit her lip. So she was nervous as well, this was not looking good. Wesley wondered if perhaps he made an error in judgement bringing Connor here.
“Don’t ever tell me the odds.” Spike said taking a swing of his whisky as he said it.
“Watch it, Spike, that’s your brain you’re messing with. it could turn you into a gibbering idiot.” Alex piped up.
“Feed me the way you feed the triplets and we’ll be golden.” the vampire shot back easily.
That took the teenager a few second of bewildered thinking before she rolled her eyes.
“Gross.”
“Hate to break up the party,” Simon piped up, He pulled his stethoscope out of his ears. He had been double checking Connor. “but I’ve exhausted all the tests I can think of with minimal equipment. I’ll send Gong Gong tomorrow, but I’ll just head out now.”
“Thanks for all your help, Simon.” Alex said with a grin.
He smiled and accepted her thanks with a shy nod.
“Fuck off, arsehole.” Raj supplied with a grin.
Simon blew him a kiss and then exited. Wesley looked after him and turned his arched eyebrow at Raj. Who caught his eye and returned the arched eyebrow in askance, Wes filed that look away for future reference.
Wes turned his attention back on Spike who was staring hard into his drink it looked like he wanted to ignite the tumbler. He looked from the vampire to Alex who seemed to understand right away.
“So, um, nothing looks like it’s going to be decided tonight, so I’m going to um, get some rooms ready for you guys.”
“Good idea.” Said Raj quickly catching on when Alex shoved him discreetly under the table. “Why don’t I help you?”
They both stood, but didn't go anywhere. Wesley noticed they seemed to be having some sort of eyebrow wiggling conversation, he realized neither of them knew Fred's name and the girl was studying Spike and not paying the damphyr and Raj any attention. After a painfully awkward moment, Wes finally tapped Fred on the shoulder.
"Fred?" He said softly, and indiacted Raj and Alex who both looked equal parts relieved and mortified.
“Oh! Me! Yes. I’ll er, come with you.” She said. “um, but what about—” she paused and her eyes fell on Connor still asleep in Spike’s arms.
“I’ll take him.” Spike said. “You’ll stay with your uncle Spike, yeah?”
Fred nodded and then followed Raj and Alex out of the library and up the stairs.
There was a short silence after they left, Wesley knew better than to leave. He knew he was here to keep Spike from going upstairs and making an ass of himself. Possibly more of an ass of himself.
They sat saying nothing but drinking. Neither of them breached the silence, neither of them really felt that they had to. Spike was lost in his own thoughts and Wesley was worried about his friend, worried he hadn't done the right thing worried that he had royally fucked up yet again.
Spike glanced upstairs. Wesley wondered if he knew he was doing it.
“You can’t.” He said after taking a sip of his own drink.
“You don’t think I know that?” He shot back instantly. “Of course I bloody well, can’t, can I? It’s her precious bloody Angel. Can’t press her. Can’t smother her. Fuck. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
He drained his glass and looked down at it weighing it in his hand, Wesley worried that he would fling it at the wall.
Bugger. Perhaps he should not have come here.
Wes stood and brought the bottle over to where they were sitting. He poured a generous amount into Spike’s tumbler and took a sip of his own.
“Can’t push her.” The vampire repeated bitterly as he brought the tumbler to his lips. “Because Angel does that. Angel’s the pusher. Angel is the one who likes to be in charge. Likes to be the one who holds all the bloody cards. Here, Slayer, here’s something that’s happening, go and stop it. Do your duty. Wanker.”
He took another long drink. Wes matched him but said nothing, knowing that Spike would continue on. It was funny how quickly he had slotted into place here. The familliar facade of No. 9 had felt inexplicably like home when he and Fred had pulled up in front of it.
Spike was ranting on, like he usually did when they were drinking like this.
“Treated my girl like she was just anyone.” He said bitterly. “He didn’t try and support her, never fought beside her. With her. Always trying to protect her or sending her off on her own like a stupid arsehole. THen coming 'round in the last minute! so he can be the hero instead of being there in the first place! Always in the shadows brooding and sullen cursing his bloody curse and then beatin' off to it because it makes him good because it makes him feel bad about the kittens and puppes piss off! Make up your mind, you big wailing twat.”
Wes tried not to chuckle at him, but Spike got oddly plaintive when he was drunk. and he was in fine form tonight, he was positively buzzing with pent up energy.
Wesley wondered, not for the first time, what Spike did all day, the vamp was always so restless. Spike stood and paced. In his little make-shift bed, Connor shifted and yawned. SPike absently smoothed the dark down that covered the baby's head.
They both drank in silence for a little while.
“You would have fought with her? With Buffy?” He asked unable to keep the wry smile from his face. Spike liked to talk a big bad game, but he was a softy when it came down to it.
Turned to him like a shot. It was as if Wesley had insulted Spike’s precious Manchester United.
“Damn straight. I would. Did. Do.” He said. “Did even before all this.” He waved his hand around to indicate what he meant.
“You love her.” He blurted out.
To his surprise, Spike didn’t even try and deny it. He just smiled resignedly and drained his glass again holding it out for more. Wesley immediately obliged him. He knew the non-answer was as much answer as he was going to get from the vampire.
“But she’s—she’s so—”
“Human? Slayer-like? California girl? Perfect? Chosen? powerful? beautiful?”
Wesley smirked.
“I was going to say young.” He said refilling his own glass. He took a whiff and thought the better of trying to match Spike. The vampire did have twenty pounds and a hundred years on him.
Spike barked a laugh at that one. He leaned back and lit picked a cigarette out of his pocket but then looked over at the baby and growled, quickly pocketing the cigarettes.
“Got me there, mate.” He said, his smile, when he smiled, was genuine, not the trademark smirk. “Never thought young would be my style, to be honest.”
Wesley quirked an eyebrow.
They had talked for hours before, they had argued about movies and soccer teams and demon breeds. Spike could talk about anything, but he very rarely talked about his past, or who he was in his human form. The last time Spike had been this chatty, had been after his first tryst with Buffy while they both steadily got day-drunk and Raj and Buffy made plans around them.
He sipped instead of swigged his alcohol, he desperately wanted to remember what he was talking about with the vampire this time.
“Always been Angel’s bag.” Spike said. “Me? Classic Mama’s boy.” His blunt assessment amused Wesley. Spike waived away Wes’s half hearted protest. “Don’t bother, I’ve read the studies.”
Wesley openly scoffed at that.
“You’re telling me you read psychology books while holed up in your lair?”
Spike smirked.
“No. I’m telling you I’ve read the watcher’s diaries on yours truly.”
Wes’s eyes bogged out of his head.
“How the bloody hell did you get a hold of those?”
Spike shrugged.
“There were a bunch that Rupes kept around his flat, had time to kill, for a man called to be a watcher from his breeching, that man does not know how to tie up vamps. Bit of a blind spot, that.”
Wesley barked a laugh. He could actually see that clearly in his mind's eye, Spike waiting until he could heart the watcher was fast asleep to shrug off his bindings only to spend the whole night holed up with a good book about himself. “You could get free and you sat and read watcher diaries about yourself?”
“Wot? It’s not all pillaging and maiming!” was the vampire's reply. “Sometimes it’s daylight and boredom. ‘Sides, don’t tell me you wouldn’t read up everything you could find on yourself if you could.”
Wesley shook his head.
“I’m not honestly sure I would want to know.”
Spike smirked, sniffed and wiped his nose. “You know, I almost believe that.”
Wes felt his heckles rise in spite of himself. He was able to calm down seeing the sharp scrutiny on the vampire’s face. Spike was testing the waters here, prodding a weak spotto see how he would react. Wes was getting better on sussing out the vampire's motives.
Spike could blather on about how bad he was and how evil, but Wes believed absolutely that the vampire eschwed a chance to figure out how to feed if he had a chance to get his hands on all the Watcher Diaries he could. He wasn't called the Slayer of Slayer's for nothing. Spike knew how to play a long con, No. 9 was testament to that. It seemed to be the short ones he had trouble with.
“Tell me then, mate,” Wesley asked changing the subject. “why are you dressed like a substitute teacher?”
Spike barked a laugh.
“That would be the minion's fault.” He said drinking thoughtfully. “the bit’s gone and got herself suspended and I had to go tell the headmistress what’s what.”
Wes nodded and considered the outfit.
“Going for overkill then?”
“You haven’t seen the best part!” Spike offered pulling a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles out of a pocket and resting them on his nose. He let them go with relish. “going for befuddled but charming aristo. Thoughts?”
“I could see Hugh Grant in that get up.”
“Notting Hill Hugh Grant or actual Hugh Grant?”
“The fact that you asked me that speaks volumes to Buffy’s attempt at educating herself on Britishness.” Wes said. “But Notting Hill Hugh Grant. Was that what you were going for?”
The vampire sniggered lightly. “Puppy dog eyes and all.”
“Suspended, Bugger. She’s been there a month?”
“Did you have a month?”
“No. Raj did.”
“Bugger. I had 4. Bad things always seem to happen in May.”
“She able to talk herself out of it?”
“No need.” Spike puffed out his chest proudly. “Her ‘Da came round to tell them what’s what.”
Wesley raised his glass, impressed. Spike smiled and they toasted to that. They lapsed into a companionable silence, sipping their respective drinks and watched Connor fuss in his sleep. Wesley sincerely hoped the child would sleep through the night this time, he had been keeping Fred and Wes up for hours since Gwen Raiden had point blank refused to go anywhere near the infant.
Wesley took another long thoughtful sip. He had been so focused on getting here, he didn't have very much of ap lan about what to do now that he was here, but he supposed that would have to wait until tomorrow. He glanced up to see SPike sneaking another forlorn look upstairs. He caught the vampire's eye and Spike sighed heavily.
“I like difficult women, Oxford,” he offered. “Always find myself after fucking crazy, bloody outrageous women. Always thought that I made myself into Spike for Drusilla, that I made myself into what I thought she wanted me to be. My dark princess. But now I’ve sussed it out, I’m starting to see that I became who I am for her.”
Wesley didn’t need to ask which “her” he was talking about. Spike took another long thoughtful drink of his whiskey and topped up his glass.
“She needs some monster in her man. Specifically this monster. And this man.”
Wes wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but thankfully Spike saved him from having to comment by bringing up the one thing he wasn’t really sure he wanted to talk about.
“So what’s the deal with the bird, then, Oxford?”
“You noticed that?”
“You brought home a girl, Wesley.”
Wesley closed his eyes. Of course Spike would notice. Fucking vampire.
Though much as he wished there was something to confess, he was afraid that the affection was one sided, Fred had been pretty silent since leaving LA. She had been instrumental in taking care of Connor though.
If he was being truly honest, he didn’t just bring Fred with him because he needed the extra set of hands, or for her own protection even, he brought her so that he would have someone else in LA that knew about this place. That knew about this second life, so he could remember that it was real.
In a way he had brought her home, and Spike had teased that out after exchanging about three words with her.
“Know what I’m good at, mate.” Spike said answering Wes’ unspoken question. “And that’s people. You were wondering how I knew that just now.”
“Am I really that obvious?”
“Doubt the girls have sussed it out.” The vamp replied. “But god help you if they do.”
“They are a bit distracted, thankfully.” Wes said. He indicated the infant sleeping in the drawer. “Be glad he’s tuckered out, he has quite the decibel range.”
“He looks just like his mum.”
“How well did you know Darla?”
“The Happy Hooker?” Spike asked. “I knew her. I knew her like i knew Angelus and Dru. We were a family, weren't we? The Four of us ransacking out way from England to China. Darla put up with Dru and I for a bit after Canton, then we headed off to the North and Darla fled back to her precious Master." Spike drank deeply. "She was something, Darla. There is something charismatic about her, that woman could make men move mountains for her.”
His hand twitched.
“If you want a cigarette, Spike, you should open a window.”
“Right, cover the moppet will you?”
Carefully as he could, Wes picked up the drawer and put it on the other side of the room, Connor didn’t stir.
“She slept like a log too.” Spike observed as he walked to the window. He didn't expand on that, just opened the window and let the cold damp air into the room. He lit a cigarette and started to smoke it, blowing the smoke out the window. After a few minutes of agitated smoking the vampire chucked the cigarette onto the sidewalk and tuned back to Wesley.
“Right, she’s probably finished taking her things from m’room now.” He said. “May as well turn in, been a bit of a day.”
“You go, Spike,” Wesley said with a sad smile. “I’ll clean up here.”
“Fuck it.” Spike said. He jerked his head up toward the second floor so it would be clear who he was indicating. “She’s the only one who cares about coasters. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. ‘Sides, I expect that girl of yours is waitin’ in your room.”
Wesley sighed and nodded.
Spike took the drawer.
“C’mon, moppet. Let’s go upstairs.”
****
Author's note: Hi all! I rushed to get this chapter out, and it kinda showed. I'm so sorry, I have fixed it up and rewrote bits of it to make more sense, added some character stuff for Wesley. The nExt Chapter will be short and sweet and then we'll get back to plot!!
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