The Evil That Men Do
Author: MeB (aka XanWill4Ever-Michael B)
Email: lenoxfiles@hotmail.com
Spoiler: Majority takes place in the summer after the First Season. There are scenes that takes place some time after Lovers Walk from Season 3. There may be some slight AU, but not much.
Summary: Willow loses her memory and finds help from a private investigator in Boston.
Disclaimer: The characters from Spenser For Hire belong to Robert Parker. All characters from Buffy tVS belong to Joss.
Rating - R xwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxw
A year and a half before...
1
BOSTON
Some man named Gump once said that life was like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get. Well, I wasn't really big on chocolates to begin with unless it was a steaming chocolate syrup prepared for dipping strawberries after a nice thick steak with mushroom gravy. Add a sweet bottle of wine like White Zinfandel and you've just complimented any meal. But that's not what I'm really talking about here, am I? I suppose if life really were like a box of chocolates, then maybe I found one with one of those nasty gelatinous goo inside. The kind that make you want to put it back in the box for somebody else.
I'd better rephrase that. Because if this is what life is all about, I wouldn't want to give any one this bad piece of chocolate. I didn't want it for myself, but there it is. It's mine. And I have to do something with it.
Susan Silverman would tell you that I am a man of stubborn pride. She would say to you that my pride is so stubborn, it disables me from asking for help when I really need it. That I push people away when I am hurting. That I keep my pain all to myself and share it with no one. The truth is, Susan is right. I enjoy the freedom of independence. It means something to me to be my own man, to have no one to answer to but myself. Susan rather enjoys reminding me of my stubborn pride, but then I have to remind her of her own stubborn independent pride for otherwise, she would want to give up that independence and move in with me rather than live apart as we do.
I guess we're just both full of that old stubborn pride.
I think that if the truth were to be told, there was only one man I knew who would fully understand what I was going through in my current crisis. And I would like to think that if he were in my shoes, he would follow the same course of action that I was about to follow.
That was Hawk.
Hawk and I were different in many ways, but in some ways we were the same.
At the moment, I wasn't with Susan. Nor was I with Hawk. I was alone. I found myself standing on the sidewalk on a nice sunny day in front of the Boston Medical Center where my doctor just happened to have an office. I was breathing in the fresh air and I was enjoying the feeling of the sun's warmth as it touched my face. I stood there and I wondered why I hadn't stopped to notice the sun on my face before. I also wondered when I was going to begin to feel sorry for myself.
My doctor's name was Les Cloutier, and, well, technically, he wasn't really my doctor. I had helped him out a few times in the past with my detecting abilities and so I figured that maybe if I really had to, I could go to him to ask for some medical advice. And that's what I did. I wished I hadn't, but it got to where I really didn't have a choice in the matter.
We set up this appointment with great reluctance on my part, and I even showed up on time. However, do you recall that stubborn pride I rattled on about earlier? Well, because of that pride, I never told a soul what I was doing or where I was going. If I have to let anyone know, I will do it on my own terms and only when I am prepared to do so. The doctor did his thing and I felt sort of like my dignity was being torn to shreds. I tried to hold that dignity intact, but it took some mental willpower that I didn't know I had. When it was all said and done, I had gone home to play the waiting game. I had to wait for that call when I would be told the inevitable results of the examination.
I had received that call early this morning.
"When can you come in?" Cloutier had asked me in a reserved tone.
I had responded in the most cheerful tone I could muster. "To be undignified by you again? Never. But to sneak another peek at your long- legged, blonde-haired, blue-eyed receptionist? I'll be there in a flash."
The doctor had let out a chuckle over the phone. "Spenser, what would Susan say?"
"She would say that window shopping is permissible, but shoplifting does carry a very hefty penalty." I had then paused for affect. "She would be right. Susan can be a very strict Warden."
At that point, Cloutier had paused.
I was good with pauses. Being a private investigator over the years has helped me to enhance my skills, and one of those skills was waiting out the pauses. It was supposed to unnerve the other guy so that he can reveal the card he was about to play. Well, it had worked in this situation, too. I had waited the good doctor out.
He had finally said, albeit with great hesitation, "Do you...Would you just like me to tell you over the phone? I...could save you a trip."
I was good with sighs, too, so I had given him one of mine. "No, Doc. I like to have a face-to-face in situations like this. I'm on my way."
As I stood there on the sidewalk with the sun on my face, I could clearly see in my mind what had transpired since that phone call. After the call, I had found myself in his office a half hour later.
That's when he had given me the results.
He had also given me options.
And then he had given me a couple of prescriptions.
After all of that, he had asked me if there was anything I needed, or if there was anything he could do for me.
I had told him, "No." I hadn't of even thrown him one of my colorful quips. My mind had become numb, and I have to admit...I'm still trying to deal with it. But this is all new to me. How can anyone truly deal with something like this?
Before I had made any kind of retreat from his office, he had asked me one other thing. "What do you want to do now?"
There was only one thing that I could think of to say to him, and that was, "I want to raise my son or daughter."
I remember the startled look on his face, but I had walked out of there before he could respond which is how I wound up standing on the sidewalk in deep contemplation, soaking up the rays of the sun.
I let out a weary sigh. I didn't have a son or a daughter. And yet, that's all I could think about now was a child to raise as my own. Why is it that when a man is closer to death's door than he had originally thought, he begins to reflect back on his life and think about what he didn't have? That answer I had given Cloutier had been an automatic response, and at first, it had surprised me more than it had the doctor.
Now as I thought about it, I wasn't surprised.
I was sad.
There was a time in my life about a year ago when I had discovered that I was about to be a father. Susan was going to have a baby. She was going to have my baby...our baby. And then I found out that she didn't want to have the baby.
I was so angry. I almost left her.
But in the end, I went back to her because I still loved her and I wanted to be there for her.
I looked up into the sky.
Then I looked at my hands and I couldn't help but wonder if Susan hadn't of done what she did...what would I be holding today in my arms?
A boy?
Or a girl?
I didn't really know.
I didn't really care.
I would have loved either one with all of my heart. _____________________________________________________
SUNNYDALE
There was a knock on his door.
Angel let out a weary sigh as the knocking chased away his sleep. Not that he really needed any sleep, but it was an act of comfort that made him feel a little more human. That was one of the reasons why he lived above ground when others like him did not. He raised his head from his pillow and he looked at the closed curtains hanging above his window. He saw a small telltale sliver of light that told him what he needed to know.
The sun was up.
But the knocking became more persistent.
Who could be knocking on his door at this hour? he wondered as he sat up in bed.
"All right!" he called out. "I'm coming."
He rose himself out of bed and he put on a pair of pants. He turned on a lamp and stepped out into the living room. At least the knocking had stopped.
He stepped in front of his door and said, "Who is it?"
Beyond the door, a voice responded with some hesitation. "I-it's me, Angel...Xander."
That surprised Angel. He couldn't begin to imagine why Xander Harris would come to see him. He knew that Xander despised him for what he was. Could Xander be up to something? While Buffy was away for the summer, was the young man foolishly thinking that he could do something about Angel once and for all? Angel immediately discarded that idea. Xander might be capable of pulling off some foolish stunts, but he wasn't going to do something that crossed the line when it came to Buffy Summers.
Angel opened the door and found Xander standing there. He looked anxious about something even though he also appeared to be there with a bit of reluctance.
"What is it?" Angel asked him.
Xander hesitated, "Can I come in?"
The vampire with a soul frowned. "It's late...for me. I'm really tired." He wasn't really, but he wasn't certain that he wanted to let Xander in.
"It's important." Xander let out a sigh. "Look. We both know that you're the last person I would want to come to for help, but...I don't know where else to go."
Angel regarded him. Then he opened the door wider and allowed Xander to enter. As Angel closed the door, Xander began to pace about his living room. In spite of himself, he was beginning to feel concerned about the young man he had just let into his home. However, concerned or not, Angel was convinced that Xander might be there to finally tell him what he thought of his relationship with Buffy.
"How important is this?" Angel asked him. "Is this about Buffy? Are you here to tell me that you still love her and--?"
Xander shook his head impatiently. "Damn it, Angel! This is not about Buffy!" he snapped. "I wish it were that simple, but it's not. If she hadn't of left town to go spend summer with dear old dad, I'd be seeing her about this. Not you!"
Angel paused as he regarded Xander. Something had scared him. Something bad. "What about Giles?"
"He doesn't answer his phone. He's not home and he's not at the library." Xander shook his head. "I can't wait for him, Angel."
"What happened, Xander?"
Xander glared at him. "Look...I don't like you. We both know that. But...I've nowhere else to go with this. Damn it, Angel, you're the only one I can come to with this. You've got to help me. Buffy trusts you...a- and so does Giles...so I have to, too, right? You have a soul...you have to be good, right?"
Angel waited.
Xander's glare turned into a look of pleading. "Angel...I-I think something bad has happened to Willow."
Angel looked at him in surprise. "Didn't Willow go to some computer camp?"
"Yes."
"Well...isn't she still there?"
"I...I don't know. Angel, I just don't know. And I can't get a friggin' answer!" he said in frustration.
Angel looked at him. "Wait a minute. Calm down. What do you mean you can't get an answer?"
"Willow...she's supposed to be there for a month." Xander looked at him and he tried to keep the panic from his eyes. "It's only been ten days since Willow has been at camp. You wanna know something about those ten days, Angel? Willow has called me every night for the first eight days, but for the last two nights..." He shook his head. "...she hasn't called me."
Angel frowned. "And you find that unusual?"
"I know Willow, Angel. She...she calls me every night." He chuckled nervously. "She calls me on school nights. She calls me on the weekends. We go to the Bronze, we go home, and she calls me." He shrugged. "We're best friends! And I know that something is very wrong here."
"Maybe you're just worrying over nothing, Xander. It is possible that Willow might have been too busy to call you." He shrugged. "Maybe she'll call you tonight."
Xander held up two fingers in front of Angel's face. "It's been two nights already!" he exclaimed. "And you're wrong! She won't be calling me tonight. I called the campsite and I spoke with a receptionist who told me that Willow had left with her parents."
"Maybe she did."
"She didn't. I stopped by Willow's house on my way over here."
Angel looked at him with a bad feeling in his gut. "And?"
"I asked them if Willow was home. Willow's mother told me, 'No, silly. Willow won't be home for another three weeks. She's at camp.'"
Angel paused in thought. "Where is this camp?"
"About an hour out of town," Xander told him. "I'm taking the bus there now."
"Wait a minute, Xander." Angel let out a sigh of frustration. "Look, I can't help you now. Not while the sun is up. Try to find Giles again. Don't go to the campsite until I'm able to join you."
"I can't wait, Angel. I've got a bad feeling about this." There was a tremor in Xander's voice. "I have to know that Willow's okay. I haven't heard from her in two days and it's driving me crazy."
"You have to wait."
Xander headed for the door and he shook his head. "No. I'm leaving now. When it gets dark, that's where you'll find me." He opened the door and hurried out.
"Xander!" Angel called after him.
But it was too late.
Xander was gone.
And Angel had no choice but to wait until dark. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
TO BE CONTINUED--
Author: MeB (aka XanWill4Ever-Michael B)
Email: lenoxfiles@hotmail.com
Spoiler: Majority takes place in the summer after the First Season. There are scenes that takes place some time after Lovers Walk from Season 3. There may be some slight AU, but not much.
Summary: Willow loses her memory and finds help from a private investigator in Boston.
Disclaimer: The characters from Spenser For Hire belong to Robert Parker. All characters from Buffy tVS belong to Joss.
Rating - R xwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxwxw
A year and a half before...
1
BOSTON
Some man named Gump once said that life was like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get. Well, I wasn't really big on chocolates to begin with unless it was a steaming chocolate syrup prepared for dipping strawberries after a nice thick steak with mushroom gravy. Add a sweet bottle of wine like White Zinfandel and you've just complimented any meal. But that's not what I'm really talking about here, am I? I suppose if life really were like a box of chocolates, then maybe I found one with one of those nasty gelatinous goo inside. The kind that make you want to put it back in the box for somebody else.
I'd better rephrase that. Because if this is what life is all about, I wouldn't want to give any one this bad piece of chocolate. I didn't want it for myself, but there it is. It's mine. And I have to do something with it.
Susan Silverman would tell you that I am a man of stubborn pride. She would say to you that my pride is so stubborn, it disables me from asking for help when I really need it. That I push people away when I am hurting. That I keep my pain all to myself and share it with no one. The truth is, Susan is right. I enjoy the freedom of independence. It means something to me to be my own man, to have no one to answer to but myself. Susan rather enjoys reminding me of my stubborn pride, but then I have to remind her of her own stubborn independent pride for otherwise, she would want to give up that independence and move in with me rather than live apart as we do.
I guess we're just both full of that old stubborn pride.
I think that if the truth were to be told, there was only one man I knew who would fully understand what I was going through in my current crisis. And I would like to think that if he were in my shoes, he would follow the same course of action that I was about to follow.
That was Hawk.
Hawk and I were different in many ways, but in some ways we were the same.
At the moment, I wasn't with Susan. Nor was I with Hawk. I was alone. I found myself standing on the sidewalk on a nice sunny day in front of the Boston Medical Center where my doctor just happened to have an office. I was breathing in the fresh air and I was enjoying the feeling of the sun's warmth as it touched my face. I stood there and I wondered why I hadn't stopped to notice the sun on my face before. I also wondered when I was going to begin to feel sorry for myself.
My doctor's name was Les Cloutier, and, well, technically, he wasn't really my doctor. I had helped him out a few times in the past with my detecting abilities and so I figured that maybe if I really had to, I could go to him to ask for some medical advice. And that's what I did. I wished I hadn't, but it got to where I really didn't have a choice in the matter.
We set up this appointment with great reluctance on my part, and I even showed up on time. However, do you recall that stubborn pride I rattled on about earlier? Well, because of that pride, I never told a soul what I was doing or where I was going. If I have to let anyone know, I will do it on my own terms and only when I am prepared to do so. The doctor did his thing and I felt sort of like my dignity was being torn to shreds. I tried to hold that dignity intact, but it took some mental willpower that I didn't know I had. When it was all said and done, I had gone home to play the waiting game. I had to wait for that call when I would be told the inevitable results of the examination.
I had received that call early this morning.
"When can you come in?" Cloutier had asked me in a reserved tone.
I had responded in the most cheerful tone I could muster. "To be undignified by you again? Never. But to sneak another peek at your long- legged, blonde-haired, blue-eyed receptionist? I'll be there in a flash."
The doctor had let out a chuckle over the phone. "Spenser, what would Susan say?"
"She would say that window shopping is permissible, but shoplifting does carry a very hefty penalty." I had then paused for affect. "She would be right. Susan can be a very strict Warden."
At that point, Cloutier had paused.
I was good with pauses. Being a private investigator over the years has helped me to enhance my skills, and one of those skills was waiting out the pauses. It was supposed to unnerve the other guy so that he can reveal the card he was about to play. Well, it had worked in this situation, too. I had waited the good doctor out.
He had finally said, albeit with great hesitation, "Do you...Would you just like me to tell you over the phone? I...could save you a trip."
I was good with sighs, too, so I had given him one of mine. "No, Doc. I like to have a face-to-face in situations like this. I'm on my way."
As I stood there on the sidewalk with the sun on my face, I could clearly see in my mind what had transpired since that phone call. After the call, I had found myself in his office a half hour later.
That's when he had given me the results.
He had also given me options.
And then he had given me a couple of prescriptions.
After all of that, he had asked me if there was anything I needed, or if there was anything he could do for me.
I had told him, "No." I hadn't of even thrown him one of my colorful quips. My mind had become numb, and I have to admit...I'm still trying to deal with it. But this is all new to me. How can anyone truly deal with something like this?
Before I had made any kind of retreat from his office, he had asked me one other thing. "What do you want to do now?"
There was only one thing that I could think of to say to him, and that was, "I want to raise my son or daughter."
I remember the startled look on his face, but I had walked out of there before he could respond which is how I wound up standing on the sidewalk in deep contemplation, soaking up the rays of the sun.
I let out a weary sigh. I didn't have a son or a daughter. And yet, that's all I could think about now was a child to raise as my own. Why is it that when a man is closer to death's door than he had originally thought, he begins to reflect back on his life and think about what he didn't have? That answer I had given Cloutier had been an automatic response, and at first, it had surprised me more than it had the doctor.
Now as I thought about it, I wasn't surprised.
I was sad.
There was a time in my life about a year ago when I had discovered that I was about to be a father. Susan was going to have a baby. She was going to have my baby...our baby. And then I found out that she didn't want to have the baby.
I was so angry. I almost left her.
But in the end, I went back to her because I still loved her and I wanted to be there for her.
I looked up into the sky.
Then I looked at my hands and I couldn't help but wonder if Susan hadn't of done what she did...what would I be holding today in my arms?
A boy?
Or a girl?
I didn't really know.
I didn't really care.
I would have loved either one with all of my heart. _____________________________________________________
SUNNYDALE
There was a knock on his door.
Angel let out a weary sigh as the knocking chased away his sleep. Not that he really needed any sleep, but it was an act of comfort that made him feel a little more human. That was one of the reasons why he lived above ground when others like him did not. He raised his head from his pillow and he looked at the closed curtains hanging above his window. He saw a small telltale sliver of light that told him what he needed to know.
The sun was up.
But the knocking became more persistent.
Who could be knocking on his door at this hour? he wondered as he sat up in bed.
"All right!" he called out. "I'm coming."
He rose himself out of bed and he put on a pair of pants. He turned on a lamp and stepped out into the living room. At least the knocking had stopped.
He stepped in front of his door and said, "Who is it?"
Beyond the door, a voice responded with some hesitation. "I-it's me, Angel...Xander."
That surprised Angel. He couldn't begin to imagine why Xander Harris would come to see him. He knew that Xander despised him for what he was. Could Xander be up to something? While Buffy was away for the summer, was the young man foolishly thinking that he could do something about Angel once and for all? Angel immediately discarded that idea. Xander might be capable of pulling off some foolish stunts, but he wasn't going to do something that crossed the line when it came to Buffy Summers.
Angel opened the door and found Xander standing there. He looked anxious about something even though he also appeared to be there with a bit of reluctance.
"What is it?" Angel asked him.
Xander hesitated, "Can I come in?"
The vampire with a soul frowned. "It's late...for me. I'm really tired." He wasn't really, but he wasn't certain that he wanted to let Xander in.
"It's important." Xander let out a sigh. "Look. We both know that you're the last person I would want to come to for help, but...I don't know where else to go."
Angel regarded him. Then he opened the door wider and allowed Xander to enter. As Angel closed the door, Xander began to pace about his living room. In spite of himself, he was beginning to feel concerned about the young man he had just let into his home. However, concerned or not, Angel was convinced that Xander might be there to finally tell him what he thought of his relationship with Buffy.
"How important is this?" Angel asked him. "Is this about Buffy? Are you here to tell me that you still love her and--?"
Xander shook his head impatiently. "Damn it, Angel! This is not about Buffy!" he snapped. "I wish it were that simple, but it's not. If she hadn't of left town to go spend summer with dear old dad, I'd be seeing her about this. Not you!"
Angel paused as he regarded Xander. Something had scared him. Something bad. "What about Giles?"
"He doesn't answer his phone. He's not home and he's not at the library." Xander shook his head. "I can't wait for him, Angel."
"What happened, Xander?"
Xander glared at him. "Look...I don't like you. We both know that. But...I've nowhere else to go with this. Damn it, Angel, you're the only one I can come to with this. You've got to help me. Buffy trusts you...a- and so does Giles...so I have to, too, right? You have a soul...you have to be good, right?"
Angel waited.
Xander's glare turned into a look of pleading. "Angel...I-I think something bad has happened to Willow."
Angel looked at him in surprise. "Didn't Willow go to some computer camp?"
"Yes."
"Well...isn't she still there?"
"I...I don't know. Angel, I just don't know. And I can't get a friggin' answer!" he said in frustration.
Angel looked at him. "Wait a minute. Calm down. What do you mean you can't get an answer?"
"Willow...she's supposed to be there for a month." Xander looked at him and he tried to keep the panic from his eyes. "It's only been ten days since Willow has been at camp. You wanna know something about those ten days, Angel? Willow has called me every night for the first eight days, but for the last two nights..." He shook his head. "...she hasn't called me."
Angel frowned. "And you find that unusual?"
"I know Willow, Angel. She...she calls me every night." He chuckled nervously. "She calls me on school nights. She calls me on the weekends. We go to the Bronze, we go home, and she calls me." He shrugged. "We're best friends! And I know that something is very wrong here."
"Maybe you're just worrying over nothing, Xander. It is possible that Willow might have been too busy to call you." He shrugged. "Maybe she'll call you tonight."
Xander held up two fingers in front of Angel's face. "It's been two nights already!" he exclaimed. "And you're wrong! She won't be calling me tonight. I called the campsite and I spoke with a receptionist who told me that Willow had left with her parents."
"Maybe she did."
"She didn't. I stopped by Willow's house on my way over here."
Angel looked at him with a bad feeling in his gut. "And?"
"I asked them if Willow was home. Willow's mother told me, 'No, silly. Willow won't be home for another three weeks. She's at camp.'"
Angel paused in thought. "Where is this camp?"
"About an hour out of town," Xander told him. "I'm taking the bus there now."
"Wait a minute, Xander." Angel let out a sigh of frustration. "Look, I can't help you now. Not while the sun is up. Try to find Giles again. Don't go to the campsite until I'm able to join you."
"I can't wait, Angel. I've got a bad feeling about this." There was a tremor in Xander's voice. "I have to know that Willow's okay. I haven't heard from her in two days and it's driving me crazy."
"You have to wait."
Xander headed for the door and he shook his head. "No. I'm leaving now. When it gets dark, that's where you'll find me." He opened the door and hurried out.
"Xander!" Angel called after him.
But it was too late.
Xander was gone.
And Angel had no choice but to wait until dark. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
TO BE CONTINUED--