All About Spike - Plain Version
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Affinity
By Ginmar
Chapter 22
They manhandled Angel out to the car, but Spike acted as a
sort of UN observer: he absolutely refused to touch him, so of course the only
thing left to was observe and critique. They didn't do enough dropping, in
his opinion. Also, there were some severe deficiencies in the head-banging
department, too. Finally, they dumped the other vampire into the backseat with a
satisfactory thud, and then headed back to the hotel, the three of them jammed
into the front seat. Lorne didn't help matters; he sat in the middle and hummed
show tunes, occasionally breaking into snatches of "It's May."
This was not helpful.
Wes kept glancing into his rear view mirror as if he
expected Angel to revive suddenly in the back seat. Spike saw that and grinned
at him. "Uh, Watcher? You, ah, do realize that if he suddenly wakes up, you
won't be able to see him in that mirror, right?"
Wes flushed suddenly, then recovered enough to give him a
haughty look. "I'm well aware of that. But I could see some things shifting if
he wakes up."
"Why is it so important?"
"There was an incident—was it last year? Or so, I forget
precisely when. Angel was drugged, and it induced a false... euphoria. He became
Angelus for a while. I'd like to get him home before that happens-- if-- if--
that happens -- so he can be restrained."
Hm. Interesting, Spike thought. "Was this when he set Dru
and Darla on fire?" He asked pointedly.
Wes pretended to be preoccupied with passing another vehicle and
ignored the question. Hm again, Spike thought. So he went all Angelus and that
wasn't how Dru and Darla almost got toasted. What an interesting little
tidbit that was. What was he when he decided to go all Firestarter?
They screeched to a stop in front of the Hyperion, and
again Spike watched as they maneuvered the larger vampire up the steps. Dead
weight indeed. And how disappointing; if it had been him, he would have at least
dropkicked him a few times. Lorne must have picked up on some of that, because
he insisted on taking Angel to his room, and presumably tucking him in. Spike
was amused by an image of the demon attempting to put Angel into his pyjamas.
For a moment, he entertained himself by speculating on Angel's choice of
nightwear. After all, he certainly couldn't wear the coat to bed.
Wes poked his head out of the office, and beckoned
at him. Spike, remembering that he was about to be given a fair amount of money,
suddenly tried to remember what gratitude was. Certainly, there was that feeling
he got when Buffy touched him anywhere, but he didn't think Wes would appreciate
that particular expression if confronted with it. He peered around the
doorjamb, hand scratching uncomfortably at the back of his neck, right about
where Buffy usually put her hand when she kissed him. With a practically audible
snap, he wrenched himself back to whatever it was that Wes was saying.
"How much do you need?"
"Well, house payments, for a few months at least..." Spike
thought. In truth, he hadn't planned for this, and now, confronted with his
success, he had no idea what to ask for.
"What are you going to do?" Wes asked curiously.
"Thought I'd, you know, get some information from Dawn,
make a few payments, take a bit of the heat off..." Spike trailed off
uncomfortably as he felt Wes' eyes on him. "Dawn will do that for me."
Wes shook his head, his eyes blank and amazed. "You know,
she won't even think it's you when she finds out someone's paid some of her
bills."
Spike just shrugged. Big deal. Just as long as he could
crawl into her bed, and this time not have to leave while she tried to persuade
him to stay.
"What if she thinks it's Angel?" Wes said gently.
"What if she doesn't?" Spike countered. "They met after...
she came back, you know. She won't talk about it. And he set Dru on fire, and
you already told me he wasn't Angelus at the time." He stared away with
some bitterness. "What did he do after she died?"
Wes looked away.
Spike scowled at him, even though he wasn't the
problem. "What'd he do, go party? Sounds like him." He refrained from pointing
out the misery of those 147 days. "Guess it wasn't a timeless thing for him,
like he told her, was it?"
"Spike... I would like to ask something."
Spike nodded his assent, expecting something technical,
but that wasn't what he got. "She doesn't love you at all?"
"No, it's not like that." He answered. "There's something
there." He scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Not sure I can handle it, if it
does happen, you know? I know it, know she doesn't love me, but sometimes I
think I see it, in her eyes, it's just that she hates saying stuff like that."
He glanced down at the floor, unable to meet the Watcher's eyes. A Watcher and a
vampire, talking about love. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing, but he did
know one thing; it was extraordinary, and Buffy was the catalyst for it.
"Putting it into words -- not her strong suit."
"You were a poet."
"When I was a human." Spike thought about it, then added,
"That's what I feel like... when..." He had to look away. "You?"
Wes shrugged uncomfortably, leaning forward on his elbows
on the desk, unwilling to answer, but unwilling not to; how could he not, when
the vampire had been nothing but honest? He was momentarily silenced by the idea
of it all; sharing confidences about love with a vampire. He sighed, swallowing
a lump in a dry throat. "She... uh.... she loves someone else."
"Then she's not for you." Spike said quietly. He thought
of Dru, always willing to drop him at the crook of Angelus' little finger. "Know
what it's like, I do. Won't make that mistake again. It's like you're not there,
when there's someone else. She's -- she's -- aware -- of me. I come up behind
her, and she... senses me. Feels me. I know what that's like, don't I?
That's how I felt with... this..." His voice got very soft. "...this woman
I loved. I felt her, when she was around me, like the air had a tide and she
shifted through it like a current." He shrugged with embarrassment. "Never felt
that way about anyone till Buffy." Not even Dru, he thought regretfully, but he
wasn't sure that was a bad thing. Dru had been so dependant on him, but Buffy
could get along quite well without him, he knew. Nevertheless... She was
still there, wasn't she? Not like she was going with the first human who came
along.
"Can't help what I feel." Wes said ruefully.
"No, you can't." Spike said thoughtfully. "All you do is
ride it out. Like an undertow, mate, that's what it is. You fight it, it will
drag you under. Just have to go with it, because you'll use up all your strength
against it, and it won't matter. It'll kill you."
Wes nodded silently, looking at his desk. Spike looked at him
soberly. "Who?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Who is it? You used to be sweet on Cordelia, didn't you?"
"Oh, that..." Wes brushed that infatuation away. "Things
were so different then." He considered it for a minute, the pleasant certainty
of that crush, crumbled in a heap on a library floor. It was almost sweet,
compared to the twist he felt in his gut every time he looked at Fred. He knew
he should try and feel glad for her sake, but he just couldn't. The fact
that Gunn obviously treated her like fine china only made him feel guiltier.
"No, it's not her. Not that she's not a wonderful woman."
Aha! Spike thought. She's still in love with the
father of the kid. Isn't that the same old story? "You have to give it time,
Wes." He said. "'Course, what do I know, I'm a vampire."
Wes blinked at him. "Spike, I'm beginning to think you might be
as unique as Angel himself."
"Uh, yeah." Spike brushed that away. "Well, that I am, but not
for the sort of thing I'd like. William the Bloody has reverted to his true
roots. Next thing you know, I let the hair go, start listening to harpsichord
music, 'f you can call it that music. Please stake me if I do, would you? I
don't mind being a—a—house pet -- quite so much as I mind the idea of
being... a.... tacky house pet."
Wes blinked at this, having no idea how to cope with a vampire
suffering an identity crisis. He'd figured he'd reached the limit of his
adaptability with the whole vampire-in-love thing now, but now here was
something else. Really, he needed to write this stuff up to truly cope with it.
"Ah -- I'm sorry. Spike, how much was it that you wanted?"