14. Old Friends, New Enemies
I am a rolling wave without the motion
A glass of water longing for the ocean
I am an asphalt flower breaking free but you keep stopping me
Release me
London July 2008
There's not much left in the world that could cause Rupert Giles to cry – but watching his golden slayer lying pale and seemingly lifeless on the bed was defiantly enough to bring tears into his eyes.
"Buffy, what have you done?"
Spike turned to the older man with bloodshot eyes, looking like a man who just had lost everything he ever cared about. His obvious grief was another thing that made Giles's heart constrict in his chest.
"What's wrong with her?" asked Dawn from the other side of the bed. The young woman sat in a chair and held on to her sisters like it was a matter life or death if she didn't.
"Well," said Giles warily. "As it seems like Spike has all his memories back I guess that whatever Buffy did, it worked." Pause. "She brought Spike back."
"But by doing so she left herself exposed to the full power of the First." Said Willow sadly. "Without the essence of Spike within her she hadn't the strength to fight it back."
Spike shivered and looked down at the unconscious Buffy.
"Then we put it back." Looking up. "I rather die than see her do it in my place."
"It's not that easy," exclaimed Giles and rubbed his nose. "I'd say that the First is rather content with this; now it can destroy Buffy without any interference."
"But why haven't it yet?" asked Xander and blinked with his one remaining eye. "Why is Buffy still alive…ish?"
They all stared down at the unmoving slayer.
"I think," whispered Giles sadly, "That the First wants to play with her first." Beat. "Make her suffer horribly…"
"Oh God…" cried Dawn and hid her face in her hands.
Willow walked over to the sobbing girl and put her arms around the shacking form.
"We're gonna fix this, Dawn. I promise."
"Whatever it takes," agreed Xander.
Spike suddenly rise from his spot and heads for the door – causing everyone to look at him in shock.
"Where're you going?" asked Dawn shakily.
"To get some answers."
And with that he left.
Spike stood in front an old looking building, intently staring at the closed door.
"Come on," he said gruffingly. "Open sesame."
And suddenly the door opened and Spike carefully entered into a huge lobby – much like (or rather exactly like) the Wolfram and Harts in Los Angeles.
Spike gazes around the place, seeing people in suits everywhere – and the occasional demon.
"Home sweet home," he mutters and starts walking towards the desk.
As he arrives, a blond woman look up and gives him a welcoming smile. He almost shuddered when he noticed the resemblance with Harmony.
"Ah, William the Bloody," the receptionist said warmly and nodded to the elevators. "He's expecting you."
Spike raised an eyebrow and looked over in the direction of the elevator, before yet again focusing on the smiling woman.
"He is?"
She nodded, still with that smile plastered all over her face.
"Yes. Just press for the penthouse suit."
"Alright."
Spike walked over to the elevator and after a short stare match with a fyral demon – which he won, he stepped into the empty elevator and pressed the button for the top floor – all with a confused frown on his face.
As the elevator reached the designated floor and opened up with a soft pling, Spike carefully stuck out his head and examined his surroundings before exiting into a big hallway.
"Hello?"
"Ah, Spike," said a familiar voice and Spike swung around with a startled yelp.
"Wesley!!"
The former – and supposedly dead, Watcher stood in a doorway and looked at Spike with a crocked grin. He looked good – for a dead guy.
"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" asked Spike and let his eyes dart over the other man's figure.
"Well, you if anyone should know how hard it is to stay dead these days," said Wesley with a shrug.
"But how…?"
"A contract with Wolfram and Hart extends over your death apparently. You're in for life – or unlife as is the case with me."
Spike simply stared.
"Bummer."
"You could say that."
Spike watched as Wesley walked further into the hallway, tensing for anything that would suggest the other man having ulterior motives. After all; he was one of them now.
Apparently.
"And Angel?" asked Spike warily. "Is he also around here somewhere?"
Wesley shook his head and came to a halt in front of Spike.
"Angel has no place in this world anymore." Beat. "Nor in any other world for that matter."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that Angel is… finished. It means that he's wiped out of existence. As if he's never set foot here at all."
"Poor bastard," muttered Spike and sent a quick thought to his grand sire. He sure would miss that miserable son of a bitch.
How would have thought?
"Yes, well," drawled Wesley and waved with his hand, perfectly mirroring the aura of a bored CEO that had bigger and more important things on his mind than the ultimate death of one of his friends. "Angel chose his own destiny, especially since he signed his precious Shanshu away."
"He did what?" asked Spike flabbergasted.
"Ah, yes," hummed Wesley and smirked. "Haven't you wondered how it came to be that you're human?"
A long pause.
"Are you telling me that I… shanshued?"
Wesley nodded.
Spike stared.
Wesley smiled.
Spike frowned.
"Oh." Said Spike lamely and scratched his nose. "Okay…"
"And how is that working for you?" asked the former Watcher, former dead guy now CEO of Wolfram and Hart the London branch.
"Well, that's the stitch," muttered Spike awkwardly. "'s not. You see, Buffy, she's…"
"Ah, yes," sighed Wesley and seemed generally bored with it all. "The precious Buffy, the bane of Angel's existence and your…" Raised eyebrow. "…beloved." Beat. "I heard that she's on a slippery slide heading downwards pretty fast. Too bad that." Clicking his tongue. "And now you've come here to ask for Wolfram and Hart's help."
Spike repressed the urge to growl and lunge himself at Wesley's throat. His fist clenched and unclenched as if imagined squeezing around the other man's throat.
"Isn't that rather presumptuous of you considering that you aided Angel in his quest to bring down the Senior Partners? And that you'll play a significant part in the upcoming apocalypse? An apocalypse where you're supposedly destined to bring an end to the Senior Partners for good?"
Spike nodded.
"I can see your point." Beat. "But right about now I don't care about points. All I care about is Buffy."
"It's always about Buffy," exclaimed Wesley and frowned. "Every single decision Angel made was indirectly caused by her." Sneer. "Even Fred's death."
That made Spike think.
"Is Fred also bound by the contract? Did she… end up like you after she died?"
"And running another Wolfram and Hart branch?" smiled Wesley and shook his head. "No. When Illyria was birthed Fred's soul was destroyed. There wasn't anything left for the company to use."
"I however wasn't so lucky," said another familiar voice as Charles Gunn stepped out from the shadows behind the former Watcher.
"Charlie boy?" Spike's eyes widened in surprise.
"Yo, bleach boy," greeted the black man with a hand wave. "Or… maybe not so bleached anymore…"
"This just keep getting better and better," sighed Spike and hunched his shoulders. "I must be cursed…"
"Wouldn't that be Angel's forte?" asked Wesley sarcastically. Then he laughed roughly. "Okay, Spike, here's the deal; Wolfram and Hart will aid you this one time." Beat. "But only if you're willing to accept their bargain."
"Which is?" asked Spike and felt a surge of dread fill his entire being. Nothing good would come out of this.
"Your soul."
Spike simply stares.
"No."
"Then we can't help you."
"For the love of…!" exhaled Spike and flipped out his hands in despair. "If there is any part of the old Wesley left in you… You'll help me. Because that is what friends do."
Spike turns to leave. Walking towards the elevator he casts a quick glance over his shoulder back at the two former allies.
"And we were friends… once."
Spike steps into the elevator and push the button, silently cursing all that has gone wrong. He doesn't notice the silent shadow that sneaks up besides Wesley and Gunn.
"What do you think?" asked Wesley and turned to the new arrival.
"He's the One," declared Angelus with a wry smile.
Spike walked down the street, plaguing himself with guilt over Buffy's condition. In every aspect it was his fault that she was comatose; hadn't he existed she would never have gotten infected by his essence for starters. And hadn't he come back she wouldn't have gone behind her friends back and ask a dark witch to restore Spike's memories – and by so leaving herself open to an attack from the First.
Oh, yeah, he was to blame for a lot of things…
"Spike."
He came to an abrupt halt and stared at the person standing in front of him with shock written all over his face.
"Eve?"
The woman reached out a hand and dragged him into the shadows of an abandoned alley. She looked like something a cat had dragged in, with trashed clothes and unruly hair.
"Eve?" he said again and blinked.
"They're following you," she whispered.
"Who?"
"Wolfram and Hart."
Spike dared a quick glance around the corner and saw Gunn standing not to far away. The guy seemed to be looking for someone – and Spike understood that to be him.
Bugger…
"What are you doing here?" he asked as he turned to face the former liaison.
"I am here to help you bring down the Senior Partners," she revealed with a sneer.
"I honestly didn't see that coming," Spike admitted with a confused frown. "But right about now I'm willing to put a lot of faith in anyone that can help." Beat. "How can you help?"
"I know how to save your precious Buffy," she admitted.
Pling.
Spike gazed intently on Eve.
"Do tell."
"Remember how she joined hands with you in the Hellmouth?"
He nodded.
"Yeah."
"That was the cause of how the First got into her in the first place. The amulet that you wore was supposed to contain the entity, but as you two decided to hold hands like the lovesick fools you are, it got transferred into her – along with your essence."
Spike gaped.
"To save Buffy," Eve continued, "You have to put on the amulet and hold her hand."
"Wouldn't that…?"
She nodded.
"But that is meant to be." Beat. "Spike, you were chosen to combine your essence with the First. It's predestined in the prophecies."
"But…"
"With the strength of the First you'll be able to beat the Senior Partners and destroy them for good." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's the destiny you've been chosen for."
"For the love of…!"
"You're the One, Spike."
I don't wanna the one…
Eve pushed him out of the alley.
"Now go and save your damsel in distress."
And Spike took off in a run.
I am the rain that's coming down on you
That you shielded yourself from with a roof
I am the fire burning desperately but you're cut throating me
Release me
Tbc…
A.N: I want to send a huge thank you for those who've reviewed my stories. Your support makes my muse work harder and I'm not ashamed to be for more! Please send feedback so that 'she' doesn't take a vacation :D