Chapter 2.06
Tuesday, May 7th, 2002
When they got back to the hotel Buffy cornered
Cordelia in the office, while Spike was left to be entertained
by Lorne, which was fine by him because Lorne knew his way round
the hotel's liquor supply. Angel headed straight for his room.
"Look, Cordelia, Angel gave me the Cliff Notes
version of what was going on. What I want to know is, what's the
deal with Wes? Angel wasn't real forthcoming and I've got too
used to dealing with Spike where he comes on out and says what's
on his mind. I don't have time or patience to try to wheedle what
I want to know out of Angel, so spill."
"Wes found a prophesy that said Angel was going
to kill Connor. Wolfram & Hart got to Angel's blood supply
and dosed it with Conn—"
"Who is Connor?"
"Those must have been really short Cliff Notes.
Connor is Angel's son. Stephen is the name Holtz gave him," Cordy
explained
"Holtz being the guy who kidnapped him, right?"
"Anyway, so the lawyers tampered with Angel's
blood and mixed in some of Connor's blood that they must have
stolen from the hospital."
"The point of that being." Buffy wondered what
this had to do with Wes.
"To make Connor smell like food to Angel. By
the time we realised what the problem was Angel had to keep his
distance from the kid, which if you saw him the rest of
the time you would know was nearly impossible for him.
Wes translated this ancient prophesy that said
Angel would kill his son, but instead of telling anyone he just
offered to look after the kid overnight. It was only because Lorne
picked up on his singing when he was trying to keep the baby quiet
as he packed up that we found out what he was going to do, but
that was only after we found Lorne knocked unconscious when we
got back from somewhere else.
By the time we went after him, Wes was already
lying on the grass outside his apartment block with his throat
slit from ear to ear and Holtz had the baby. Angel caught up with
Holtz about the same time the Wolfram & Hart's combat squad
hit the scene. Holtz's demon friend created a rip in the fabric
of the universe and Holtz went through it to Quor-toth while Angel
was busy dealing with Lilah and her guys.
Fred and Gunn found Wes' notes and realised why
he'd done what he did, but it took them till the next morning
to find Wes himself. Somebody had gone through his pockets and
then moved him where he was less likely to be noticed. They had
him taken to hospital and they explained to Angel about the prophecy,
which we later found out was false and planted by the same time
travelling non-corporeal demon that was helping Holtz. Angel went
to see Wes in the hospital. They had to pull him off him. He tried
to smother him while he was still flat on his back."
"So the guy made a judgement call and got it
wrong, and now he's supposed to walk away from everyone he knows.
From everything he's helped build up over the last two and a half
years? Have any of you been to see him? Do you even know if he's
out of hospital?"
"Fred took some of his things that he'd left
in the office over to the hospital and told him not to come back.
Gunn went to him behind Angel's back for help when Fred's life
was in danger and he made it clear that he would only help that
one time, he wasn't going to be there for us again."
"So it's like a divorce case, only Angel gets
all the friends and his job and Wes is left with no income and
no-one to care whether he lives or dies."
"He hurt Angel... And he helped those people deprive
him of his son's childhood." Cordelia's voice hardened.
"He did what he thought he had to, to protect
the kid. He was wrong. Don't you think having his throat slit
and having someone try to smother him might be punishment enough?
Don't you people understand there's two sides to an argument?
I can see that expecting Angel to come round might be a bit much
to ask, but how could the rest of you all just fall into line
as if none of you have ever made a mistake in your lives.
I tried to kill Xander and Willow and my kid
sister and they all forgave me. The guy just did the best he could
with the information he had. Get me his address."
Cordy flicked the Rolodex on the desk and then
pulled out a card from it and held it out toward Buffy.
"What're you going to do?" she asked keeping
hold of her side of the card until Buffy answered.
"See if I can get him a second chance."
Buffy strode out of the office, coat and hair
flowing behind her, a picture of righteous indignation.
Spike knocked back the rest of his drink and
tossed the empty glass to Lorne. "Looks like we're on the move."
He fell in next to his beloved without even bothering to ask where
they were going.
Spike manoeuvred the car easily through the traffic.
The directions on the card were plain and concise and he had no
trouble following them. Buffy meanwhile was attempting to use
up Spike's mobile phone credit at the fastest possible rate.
"Buffy, it's half five in the morning there.
Rupert is not going to be best chuffed if you ring him now."
"I'm not going to go to Wes and tell him maybe
I can get him a shit job and he might be able to whatever.
If the best I can do is get him a job in the magic shop then I
at least want to be able to tell him outright now. The guy made
a mistake, now there's not one of them stayed in touch, just go
looking for him when they needed him, and he's lost his job. One
mistake and they've taken away his whole life."
"Getting a bit excited about the whole thing
aren't you, love?"
"It just pisses me off. It's like that crowd
Cordy used to run with in high school. All hanging on her every
word. Whatever she thought, they thought. Only now it's what Angel
thinks. Angel doesn't like Wes so Wes all but gets run out of
town. Angel tried to kill him, tried to smother him in his hospital
bed, but that was Angel and he'd just lost his child so that was
fine by everybody."
"Take a deep breath and count to ten, then speak
to Rupert."
Buffy took his advice. The phone rang for a considerable
length of time before it was answered.
"Buffy, do you know what time it is over here?
I'm not here solely to resolve your romantic problems." Giles'
voice took on that tone he used when he was irritated but trying
patiently to explain something to someone of lower intellectual
capacity.
"How did you know it was me? And half past five
in the morning?"
"Precisely. I sincerely hope you're not about
to tell me you just discovered that you're having a reaction to
holy water, although I trust it is something along those lines
of magnitude for you to be calling me at this hour."
"How do I put this? You know these annoying phone
calls you get at half five in the morning? If we had someone in
Sunnydale with say. watcher type experience, then we might not
have to make so many of them."
"Yes, I'm sure. Your point being?"
"Angel and Wesley have had a bit of a falling
out. The long and short is that no-one is talking to Wes and he
hasn't got a job any more. I thought that maybe we could snag
him, if say there was a job waiting for him in Sunnydale. I mean
Will— Spike can cope with Latin but Wes is going to know loads
of languages and stuff we don't. He could really speed up our
research times and save us having to pester you, but it doesn't
seem fair asking him to move without at least a job offer."
"You want me to offer Wesley Wyndam-Pryce a
job at The Magic Box?"
"Well, duh."
"And that's why you rang me at five thirty in
the morning?"
"I kinda wanted to go see him straight away.
In fact, we're pulling up outside his apartment now, and I don't know
how long we'll be in LA and if I left it till it was an okay time
to call you it would be too late to visit him tonight."
"Yes, Buffy."
"Is that yes he can have a job?" Buffy almost
bounced in her seat.
"Yes, give him my number and get him to ring
at a civilised hour if he's interested and we'll sort out the
details and I'll contact Anya."
"Thank you, Giles. Have I told you lately what
a nice person you are and how much I love you?"
"Not for some time." Buffy could hear the smile
in his voice.
"Hey, I've been practising. Will doesn't have
to be the only one to reap the benefit. We'll call you at a civilised
hour when we're back in Sunnydale. Love you. Bye."
"Love you too, Buffy."
The two blondes stood outside the apartment door.
Buffy's fiery mood having got the pair of them so far, seemed
to have failed her.
"Am I doing the right thing?" Buffy asked, suddenly
nervous about taking such a pushy role in the life of someone
who had been, theoretically at least, an authority figure. She
held Spike's right hand in her left and her thumb traced backwards
and forwards over his palm not as a caress but as a sign of her
nervousness.
"Don't know, love. Never met the bloke. Can't
say how he'll take it and I can't say how he'll get on with everyone.
I can say we could use someone with a bit more of that sort of
background and I'll be pleased if the watcher stops lookin' to
me to be the adult in charge of the kindergarten. I'm fed up of
getting' the blame for not stoppin' that lot when they do somethin'
stupid, as if they'd listen to me in the first place.
There's only one way to find out, pet." Buffy
gave his hand a quick squeeze, drawing comfort just from his presence,
and knocked on the door.
They waited for some time, but there was no response.
"Bugger this for a game of soldiers." Spike used
his fist to bray repeatedly on the door, the noise soon followed
by some high volume questioning.
"What the bloody hell have English manners come
to when a supposed gentleman leaves a lady stood outside his door
while he sits inside munchin' on..." Spike sniffed. "...pizza flavour
soddin' Dori—" The door to the apartment opened to reveal a rather
dishevelled Wes still wearing the same clothes he had on in the
club except for the jacket. "...Tos?" Spike concluded at a normal
conversational level, his free hand running swiftly through his
blond locks.
"Buffy and, if I'm not mistaken, Spike. This is
a surprise." Wes's tone was cool and he made no move to invite
either of them in.
Buffy shrugged. "We were in town. Thought I'd
renew old acquaintances."
Spike could almost see the former watcher trying
to come to a decision. "Maybe this isn't the place, pet? Could
be Wes here knows a decent pub nearby?" he suggested, giving the
watcher an easy way out.
"You're right. I do. Perhaps we should adjourn.
I'll just fetch my jacket," Wes replied. He disappeared out of
sight behind the door, only to return a few minutes later wearing
a heavy black wool casual jacket.
The three walked out of the apartment block in
silence before Spike broke the embarrassed silence. "Heard the
Poof and you weren't on best of terms."
"If you mean Angel, then I believe that would
be a euphemistic turn of phrase," was Wes's dry response.
"Poof? Yeah, there's plenty worse things I could
and have called him in my time, but not in front of a lady."
The two men eyed each other up and down. Spike
had been led to expect Giles jnr. with a better suit, but without
the Ripper element. Instead, he was pretty sure the man in front
of him could handle himself. He had no false airs, although from
his upper class accent, he obviously came from a privileged background.
He could appreciate his dry wit. Spike was definitely warming
to the idea of having the other Englishman around. Now if they
had the same idea as to what constituted a decent pub, they were
definitely in business.
"Buffy," Wes prompted gently. "I must say that
I'm surprised given the nature of our previous relationship that
you would get in touch."
"I never had a problem with you personally, just
the Council indoctrination and the prig-like tendencies that go
with. Seems to me Quentin wouldn't approve of you now," Buffy
argued.
Spike snorted. "She means that as a compliment.
Coming from her they're few and far between so make the most of
it, mate."
"I meant that he seems to have changed but that
the changes all seem to be for the good. And who says I'm mean
with the compliments. It's just you don't do much to deserve
any," Buffy countered though her tone was far from serious.
Spike raised that scarred eyebrow, and when Buffy
glanced over in his direction he ran the tip of his tongue over
his gleaming white upper teeth. Just the gesture was enough to
set off a tingle low in her stomach and she flushed scarlet as
she remembered the effusive encouragement that seemed to flow
from her in torrents when his head lay between her legs. Having
achieved his goal Spike pulled his cigarette pack from his pocket
and, flicking the top open, he ducked his head to the packet to
draw one out between his lips rather than release Buffy's hand.
He reached across Buffy and held the pack out in Wes's direction
before returning the pack to his pocket and pulling out his lighter.
Wes looked over at the couple. From what he'd
seen so far, it seemed certain that the two shared a very intimate
relationship, especially if the marks on the slayer's neck weren't
the result of a recent skirmish gone awry, and having viewed their
performance in the club that was doubtful.
"You'll pardon me if I say that you both seem
far closer than I would expect Rupert to be pleased about," Wes
commented.
"Can't imagine that I'd be his first choice,"
Spike admitted, "but he can't be too brassed off considerin' he's
agreed to give away the bride."
"You're engaged?" Wes was unable to hide his
surprise.
The couple raised their joined hands and tilted
them till Wes could see the ring. "S'why we're in this neck of
the woods to begin with. Reckoned it was better to head off the
Avenging Angel before he heard some fifth-hand tale and came swoopin'
into Sunnydale."
"And did the plan work?"
"Let's say Angel's sporting a mark not dissimilar
to the slayer's, but I've got a nice lump on the top of me 'ead
where 'is kid knocked me out, so we both get to claim we didn't
lose. He's keepin' 'is trap shut for now so I suppose it's as
much as we dare hope for." As he spoke the last few words the
group moved through the doors into a smoky dimly lit bar. Spike
grinned as they moved deeper into the bar.
"What's got you so happy?" Buffy asked.
"Music. Any pub that has that mad pissed bugger
on the juke box can't be all bad." Buffy didn't recognise the
song at all. It sounded almost like folk music, but then she would
have been about six when the album came out and the language wasn't
anything you'd play in front of a kid. That particular group had
bypassed her generation except for "Fairytale of New York" making
itself known round Christmas time and the track from the old Murphy's
ads, not that she knew who had done that.
Spike sighed when he saw her blank look. "Shane
MacGowan, lead singer with the Pogues and writer of most of their
original material. Total pisshead and was even when we used to
go to all the same gigs and pubs a quarter of a century ago."
"You knew him?"
"Not to talk to, just one of those faces you
used to see everywhere you went, a sort of nodding acquaintance.
You couldn't miss him like, he used to have this suit jacket he
wore everywhere like a great big union jack front and back and
he was never exactly shy and retiring." Spike's voice was almost
wistful as he thought back to London in punk's heyday. For about
three years he and Dru had shuttled back and forth between London
and New York as the whim took them.
"What's your pleasure?" Breaking away from his
reverie, Spike looked from Wes to Buffy.
"I'll have a pint of the guest ale," Wes answered.
"Something fruity?" suggested the slayer. Spike
rolled his eyes but headed for the bar anyway.
The slayer and former watcher chose a table and
settled in on opposite sides while they waited on the vampire's
return.
"So what is this really about, Buffy?" Wes asked
when they were alone.
"We heard what happened between you and Angel.
I don't know if you know that Giles moved back to the Mother Country,
but we've been sorta research-challenged. It really would be better
if we had someone with your sort of expertise on site." Buffy
looked at the table and raced through the rest of her spiel before
she could back out.
"We don't charge for all the demon hunting and
stuff so we can't pay you, at least not for that, but Giles says
that if you want a job at the magic shop, it's yours. You just
need to call him at a civilised hour and you can work out
the details between you. I don't know how the wages would compare
or anything. And if something else came up that suited you better
it's not like you'd be obligated, or if this lot came to their
senses... or maybe you own your apartment or something and can't
move, whatever. But we could use your help... assuming you haven't
ended up too addicted to Passions to think about going back to
work."
"A week isn't long enough for me to start watching
daytime soaps, let alone become an addict. As to the rest of it
I would have to discuss the whole situation with Giles before
I could make a decision, though I must say it leaves certain other
offers standing." Wes managed a half smile. "At least yours didn't
come with a reminder that I'm doomed to the ninth circle of hell."
"You are?" Spike asked as he deposited two identical
pints on the table before pulling a bottle of Bacardi Breezer
from his jeans front pocket. "I would say that I'd see you there,
least that's what most demons seem to think or they would if the
knew their Dante, but a certain someone made me promise I'd do
my best to achieve the impossible." Spike slid into a chair on
the slayer's left claiming her hand again.
"You have other plans, I take it?" Wes queried.
"Buffy, here, seems to think I have the potential
to be the first evil soulless thing to make it to heaven. Says
she'll take it personal if I don't. So if I'm supposed to avoid
damnation, I don't see why you shouldn't, being all soul-havin'
an' all." Spike made it sound as if he was suggesting a walk in
the park. "'Sides, you didn't betray him, you just tried to protect
his kid for him. If all the information you had said he was the
threat, don't see that what you did was wrong, and it took guts
not to bring in any of the rest of them, to take all the responsibility.
Just a pity they're all too blinkered to see it.
Cheers, mate." Spike raised a glass to the bemused
ex-watcher.
|
