Minor canon note: I realize that the “Angel branch” of Wolfram and Hart isn’t completely set up until the first episode of AtS Season 5. In this chapter, the offices are under construction but still functional for the needs of the story. I figured they must have been doing something there for those 19 days between Chosen and Conviction, and taking advantage of their new resources would most likely be on that list.
*************
Part Eleven
On the way to Wolfram and Hart, the mood in the car was tense, much like the weather outside. Ranks of dark, heavy clouds were rolling in from the western shoreline, eclipsing the late morning sun. Buffy felt uneasy and out of place as she watched the last few rays of sunlight drift harmlessly across the back of Angel’s hand.
There were many things on her mind, but Spike was at the forefront of her thoughts. She couldn’t figure out why he had refused to come with them that morning – or why he’d refused to even answer the door when she’d knocked. Sure, they’d had a little scuffle the night before, but it was so minor compared to some of the fights they’d had in the past. Buffy had dismissed it after not much thought, certain that Spike would do the same. Yet he wasn’t here with her. This should be important to him – didn’t he want his soul back anymore? Buffy didn’t think Spike had it in him to let jealousy of Angel come between him and something he wanted – if anything, it would make him fight harder. What had changed so dramatically in the last 24 hours?
Angel was strangely silent on the matter, ever calm and collected as he navigated the streets of L.A. Buffy glanced at his profile, outlined by the fading sunlight, and wondered what he was thinking about and why he was so quiet. “This car is really something else,” she remarked, trying her best to break the uncomfortable silence.
Angel smiled as he shifted gears. “I’ve enjoyed it – especially the necro-tempered glass. That’s what keeps me from getting burned by the sun. It’s going to be in my new office as well. The whole building is equipped with it now.”
As the first few droplets of rain hit the windshield with a noisy splatter, Buffy bit her lip and sank down in her seat.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, glancing at her sidelong.
She shook her head. “No, it’s just – I wish Spike was here to see it, you know? I think he’d get a kick out of it.”
Angel cleared his throat and said nothing.
****
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Spike heard the rain pounding on the roof, intermingled with the clink of bottles and various demonic languages droning in the background. Only the real junkies could be found at demon bars after the sun came up – usually only the ones that were hiding out, passing through the city, or looking for “off-hour” business opportunities. Spike glanced over the scattered clientele, thinking that once upon a time, this place might have held a world of opportunity for him. Now it just made him miss the comfort of a real home with warm bodies inside.
He hadn’t meant to stay out after the sun rose. Really, he hadn’t. But when the edges of the sky began brightening with the promise of dawn, he suddenly found himself frozen in place, unable to rise to his feet and return to the hotel.
Spike hated that Angel had gotten to him the night before. Everything he’d said amounted to nothing but mind games, of course – Spike knew that, but the damage was done. Angel really did know how to get to him. Simple jealousy wouldn’t do the trick, but questioning Spike’s love for Buffy certainly would. Of all the things Angel could have said, that cut the deepest. But what to do about it, Spike didn’t know.
He couldn’t just leave her. It would probably be the right thing to do – the best thing for her – but he felt the tug of loyalty holding him in place at her side. What was he supposed to do when his heart and head were telling him two different things? It seemed like no matter what choice he made, Buffy was going to end up hurt.
A demon bartender sidled up to Spike with a refill on his bourbon and blood, speaking in the snakelike voice that was typical of his species. “If you’re interested, vampire, we’ve got a running tap of the fresh stuff in the back. My boys just brought ‘em in this morning.”
Spike thumbed the edge of his glass and didn’t reply. He’d smelled the humans long before, sweating and crying in the back rooms, their hearts racing as they struggled against their restraints. Spike had tried not to care. He bloody well shouldn’t care. Wasn’t that what being soulless was all about?
It would be all too easy to take the bartender up on the offer – sneak back and have a bite. No chip, no soul to keep him in check. And after that, he could stroll out into the nearest alley he could find and have another go. Bite whomever he pleased. Make them scream and beg for mercy he didn’t feel obligated to give. Spike could have the run of this town if he wanted. Angel was busy setting up shop in the belly of the beast – no worries there. And Buffy – well, she’d probably be better off without him anyway.
It’s all right in front of you, mate. Your old life. Just reach out and take it. How long has it been since you’ve had control of your life?
“You hear me?” asked the bartender. “I said there’s humans in the back. Fresh pickings. I’ll even cut you a deal.”
Exhaling a long column of smoke, Spike flicked his cigarette onto the bartender’s dirty apron. “This place have a sewer exit?”
The demon nodded.
“Good,” replied Spike, draining his glass as he rose. “Show me the humans, then. Fancy a bite before I leave.”
Two minutes later, Spike had slaughtered every demon in the bar. When he was done, he turned his back on the humans and stalked away, not giving a piss for their cries of gratitude when he freed them.
Didn’t do it for them anyway.
Truth was, he didn’t want his old life back. He wanted more than it offered. If he was going to take control of things again, this was how it was going to be – straight and narrow. Angel was right. Buffy deserved better than what he could offer, but that didn’t mean Spike was going to stop offering her what little he had. It wasn’t the size of the sacrifice that mattered.
Suddenly missing her acutely, Spike took to the sewers at a clipped pace, wondering if she would be at the hotel when he returned.
*****
Alone with Angel in his new office, Buffy felt very out of place. When she’d first heard of Wolfram and Hart, she’d pictured a small office building – instead she discovered a multi-million dollar corporation that stretched high into the sky, past the cast iron clouds that encompassed the city. Spike hadn’t been kidding when he’d mentioned that the firm was evil. You could feel the demonic oppression in the air, even outside the building. Her Slayer senses were all a’tingle, and she wanted very much to be elsewhere. But there was work to do first.
Angel wasn’t proving to be much help in the way of research. He seemed more interested in giving her the grand tour than in figuring out what Wolfram and Hart had to do with the amulet. Buffy had to practically drag him to find Wesley so that they could begin their work. Wesley had supplied them with enough books and codices to keep them occupied while he checked some other sources. Hours passed and book after book was dismissed as useless. Buffy was beginning to wonder if coming to L.A. had been a wasted effort.
Toward the latter part of the afternoon, Wesley swept into Angel’s office, looking very preoccupied as he flipped through the pages of a notebook. “I believe I’ve uncovered some information,” he said. “Quite by accident – or rather quite on purpose, depending on how you look at it.”
“Let’s see it,” said Angel, sounding unenthusiastic at the prospect. Wesley handed over the notebook, and Buffy sat up anxiously in her chair as Angel thumbed through the information. “Where’d you get this?”
Wesley cleared his throat. “When I went back to my department to retrieve that codex I mentioned earlier, I discovered that a note had been left for me. Within it were clues that led me to a scroll, kept under lock and key in the Wolfram and Hart archives. And when I say lock and key, I mean some of the most powerful binding magic I’ve ever encountered. It’s no wonder we’ve not been able to uncover anything concerning the amulet in these books. Someone has gone through a great deal of trouble to conceal it.”
“So what, they just let you access it without a fuss?” asked Angel. “How’d you get past the binding spell?”
“It didn’t prove much of a problem. You see, the note from my secret admirer was very informative,” replied Wesley with a tight smile. “What you have in your hand is a translation of the scroll I discovered in the archives, something apparently not intended for our eyes. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.”
“Think it’s a trick?”
“Oh, most assuredly. Still, it is our best lead, and to be perfectly honest, it confirms what I’ve feared since I was first informed of the situation.”
Shrugging indifferently, Angel handed the notebook over to Buffy. “There’s your answer. In black and white, appropriately enough.”
Buffy frowned. “But … Wesley just said he thought it was a trick.”
“Look, you asked for help,” replied Angel, “and this is what we can give you.”
She began reading. “Oh, damn – there’s a prophecy. I hate those things. Leave it to cryptic old men to write cryptic old prophecies for the next generation to scratch their heads over. But really – all I came here for was to find out how to get Spike’s soul back in place. Can you give me the Cliff’s Notes version?”
“Well, yes,” replied Wesley, “but I don’t think it’s quite what you were expecting. If the information in this scroll proves to be remotely accurate … well, I think it’s safe to say you have a problem on your hands.”
Buffy’s brow crinkled. “S’plainie?”
“The amulet is a powerful weapon, as you witnessed the other day. But according to this, it’s intended to be used only by someone blessed by the gods. A priest or something analogous, if you will. Spike, who is of course a vampire, would not be considered among the blessed.”
“But he wielded the amulet in the Hellmouth, didn’t he?”
“Yes, and at great risk to himself. I think it’s safe to say had you not ripped it off of him, not only would he have perished – but his very essence would have been trapped within the amulet itself. As it stands, only his soul was lost instead of his corporeal body.”
“What do you mean, trapped?” asked Angel.
“Think of it like a holding chamber for those deemed unworthy. To what end, we can only guess.”
“And Spike was unworthy because he was a demon.”
Wesley nodded.
“Wolfram and Hart intended for me to use that amulet,” said Angel, sitting back in his chair. “They meant for that to happen to me.”
“So … how exactly does Spike get his soul back?” asked Buffy in a small voice.
Wesley’s eyes dropped apologetically. “Well, that’s the rather unfortunate part. He doesn’t.”
Buffy blinked. “I’m sorry – what?”
“The scroll was quite clear on the matter, I’m afraid.”
He leaned over Buffy and pointed at a small paragraph in his notes. Her eyes flooded with tears as they flitted over words like unworthy and sacrifice. “I don’t accept this,” she whispered. “There has to be a way. You-you translated it wrong. That’s possible, right?”
“Possible but not likely,” said Angel. “Wesley’s good at what he does, Buffy.”
“Well, then the information is false. You both said you didn’t trust it. Who would trust anything from this place?”
“Why would someone lie to us about this?” asked Angel. “Spike doesn’t mean anything to Wolfram and Hart. I was supposed to wear the amulet. It was a mistake.”
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, Buffy,” said Wesley, “but I promise to keep looking into the situation as much as I can. You can keep those notes I’ve given you. I would suggest you give them to Mr. Giles to review. Perhaps he can lend a hand in researching the authenticity.”
“In the meantime, I think Spike should stay here with us in L.A.,” said Angel. “I can keep an eye on him here.”
Buffy turned to glare at Angel with such vehemence that he shrunk back a fraction. “No.”
“Buffy, I really think…”
“No.”
Glancing between the two of them, Wesley cleared his throat and inched toward the door. “Well, then. I’ll just leave you two alone to, um … yes, well I’ll just leave.”
Angel got to his feet and leaned forward against his desk, waiting until they were alone before he spoke. “Look, Buffy – I know this isn’t what you expected, but you’re just going to have to accept it. We’ve done all we can do.”
“Have you?” asked Buffy as she wiped at the corners of her eyes, looking anywhere but at him. She didn’t want him to see her crying. “Are you sure about that?”
“Newsflash – you’re not the only one going through something right now,” he bit back. “I said I would help you out with Spike, and I think you should accept the offer. I know how to handle him.”
“Yeah, I bet you do,” she countered. “I’m not leaving him here. We’re going to figure out a way to get his soul back, with or without your help.”
“We’re? Tell me, Buffy – where is Spike? Why isn’t he here with you, if he’s so interested in getting his soul back?”
“We just … had a fight is all,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “It wasn’t a big deal. He’s probably waiting for me to bring him news right now.”
Angel shook his head. “He wasn’t at the hotel this morning, Buffy.”
“What are you talking about? Of course he was. He just didn’t answer the door when I knocked.”
“No, Spike was gone.”
“What are you implying?”
“That he’s out there right now – soulless. And from what you’ve told me, without even that government chip to slow him down. Yet here, right in front of me, is a Slayer who can’t seem to get it into her head what he really is – what he’s going to stay.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Fine – don’t. Have fun counting the bodies.”
“He hasn’t killed anyone, Angel, and he’s not going to. I trust him.”
“Do you know what he was doing right before I talked to him last night? Standing at his window, staring at a woman outside like he was ready to lunge at her throat. How do you know he didn’t after I left?”
“You talked to Spike? What did you say to him?”
“Nothing of consequence.”
“Did you hurt him?” she pressed. “Because if you did…”
“I didn’t lay a finger on him.”
“I’m supposed to believe that? Especially when you tell me he left?” Shaking her head, Buffy looked around for her jacket and purse. “Why didn’t you mention this before? I should have been out there looking for him – not here wasting time.”
“Fine, go look for him, but do it for the right reasons. Spike is a killer, Buffy. And you know what else? He has no concept of how wrong it is. It never even occurs to him. Is that the kind of person you want in your life? In your home with your sister and your friends? Have you forgotten what he is? What you are?”
Practically shaking in anger, Buffy turned and stalked toward the door. “Take me back to the hotel. We’re done here.”
*****
To be continued.
A/N: All of that extra prophecy stuff won’t figure into this story. It’s stored up in my head for a sequel if I choose to write one.
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