Chapter 13 – Weakness
"Spike."
She awoke with his name on her lips, her voice eager and hopeful. She could feel him watching her. He'd come back. He'd found her. He was here. She opened her eyes, expecting to see steely blue staring back at her, but instead saw dark brown.
Angel.
The vampire was perched on the edge of the tiny bed, looking down at her. She saw a flash of anguish in his face, but he buried it quickly, and his expression became unreadable. He withdrew the hand, which had been resting next to hers, and placed it in his lap. The sleep, the dream, the hope slipped away from her as she sat up, modestly gripping the sheet to her chest to cover what her sheer nightgown did not. She couldn't help feeling somehow violated. He'd been watching her sleep.
"Buffy," Angel began. He looked away, ashamed. "I came up here to talk to you. I knocked, but you didn't answer. I was worried, so..."
She should've been mad. He had no right. He shouldn't be in here, in her room, on her bed. She should've been, but she wasn't. Angel was her friend and she needed one badly.
"It's okay," she said finally, her voice quiet. She managed a smile and reached for his hand. "Angel, I…"
He turned back to her, his eyes meeting hers. The anguish was still there, still buried, but barely hidden beneath the surface. They were both in pain. That much was clear. But was she the cause of his? Did he still love her after all this time? She looked deep inside herself and found no trace of the feelings she had once had for him. Oh, she still had feelings. Warm ones. But not the fiery ones that had once burned her, charring her inside. Amazingly, all traces, all scars, all the hurt was now gone. Spike had done that. He'd been the one to finally heal her.
She squeezed his hand. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me—and Spike."
Angel flinched at the former vampire's name, but quickly recovered. He smiled, and it almost seemed genuine. "Your welcome," he said in a way that broke her heart.
There was an awkward silence as neither of them could find words to say. Finally, Angel cleared his throat. "Buffy, the reason I came up here was…I came to tell you, I think I may have stumbled onto something." He explained to her about the coat he'd found in Emily's closet, the slip of paper in the pocket, and of calling the number written on the paper. He told her about Faith.
"Faith's alive?" She was stunned.
"She's in New York," he replied. "For the past month, she's been working with Hope Mason and her Watcher."
"But what's her connection…to Emily?"
"Well, according to Faith, Cameron Grey, Hope's Watcher, has been working on a special assignment for Quentin Travers to locate Emily."
"And destroy her?"
"Yes."
Buffy frowned. "I still don't understand. I mean, how…Emily's so powerful…"
"Apparently, Grey found a weakness."
"What is it?"
"More like 'who'. His name's Dominick. Ring any bells?"
She shook her head. "Not really."
"Well, he was her sire—and her lover."
"I still don't—"
"Apparently, this Dominick is 'gifted'—like Drusilla, only much more powerful."
"You mean he's psychic?"
Angel nodded. "And he can control minds. They were using him to find her—kind of like a bloodhound. He'd go from city to city, searching her out. If he got near enough, he'd be able to sense her. Eventually, he came here—to L.A."
"But why would he help Grey find and destroy Emily? He's a vampire. Evil. Remember?"
Angel flinched again, this time at the word 'evil.' "Not all vampires are—"
"Oh, so you're saying he has a soul? So he's a good guy like you?"
"Not exactly. He's more like how Spike was…before he became human again."
"You mean he has a chip?"
"Yeah, apparently, this Grey is some kind of a computer genius. He managed to tap into the technology that the Initiative used in their demon experiments—like the one performed on Spike."
"But how?"
Angel shrugged. "The guy's rich. He's got connections. I don't know exactly."
"Oh."
"Anyway, they were using Dominick to locate Emily, and they succeeded…only, he disappeared a few days ago."
"So…"
"So, I'm thinking, maybe those ashes we saw back in Emily's bedroom weren't Emily's. Maybe they were someone else's—"
"You mean Dominick's?"
"Precisely."
"So, you think Emily's still alive?"
"I think it's a definite possibility."
* * *
Spike stood in the corner, watching. He'd been curled up on the bed next to the Slayer when Angel came into the room. The bloody vampire had nearly sat on him! And now, there was Angel, chatting away with Buffy. Oh, what were they talking about? He was too jealous to listen. From the moment Buffy had reached for Angel's hand and held it firmly in her own, Spike had felt the blood boiling up inside of him. Of course, he didn't have any blood—any more. But, that was beside the point! He was jealous with a capital "J".
He could read the body language between the two. Buffy had started off looking aloof, but she had warmed. Getting warmer. And now—his eyes narrowed—even warmer.
She was talking quickly. Her hands making tiny gestures. Her eyes were bright now—gleaming.
* * *
Angel took a deep breath. "Now, Buffy, I don't want you to get your hopes up…this may not lead us to Spike…"
"But if Emily's alive, she can help us! She'll know what's happened to Spike. She'll bring him back! She's done it before, don't you see? She can do it again!"
"That's if she really is alive. We're just assuming at this point."
"I know, but if she is…" She threw her arms around the vampire's neck. "Thank-you, Angel," she said, her voice now filled with hope. "I could kiss you! I could just…"
She pulled away from him, holding him at arms length. Angel studied her face as a look of uncertainty crossed over her features.
"I could kiss—" she began again, but before she could finish, he'd swooped down, acting on impulse and over three years of longing. In a moment of weakness, Angel gave in to the feelings he'd been fighting for so long. He kissed her.
* * *
Spike's narrowed eyes, widened, then bulged.
What the…
His worst fear—one that had been haunting him ever since he'd fallen for the Slayer—was now right before him. Angel held the Slayer tight, one arm around her waist, the other caressing her cheek. And they were macking.
No!
Without thinking, he sprang from his corner, leaping right at Angel.
As ghost collided with vampire, something unexpected happened. Spike was overwhelmed by—feelings. He could touch again! Suddenly, he was caressing Buffy's smooth skin, holding her close; his lips crushing against hers. But she pulled away from him without warning.
"No," he said in a voice that wasn't his. "Buffy, I—"
But she cut him off with a slap so hard it left his cheek burning.
* * *
Angel felt the slap, saw the look on Buffy's face, and heard the voice that was his—only it wasn't. He tried to move, raise his arm. He tried to speak. But he couldn't. Buffy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—
His mouth opened and someone else's words came out. "Buffy, listen to me. "
Her eyes shone with tears of anger and betrayal. "How could you?" she asked, her teeth clenched.
"Buffy," said his voice, sounding strange and urgent. "It's me—"
"I trusted you!"
"Pet, listen…it's me."
Her eyes widened and she stared at the man in front of her. "Spike?"
Spike! With the realization, Angel fought harder for control of his body. I will not let you— He struggled; willed himself to take back what was his, but it was no use.
"Is it really you?" Buffy asked, reaching up to stroke the cheek she'd just slapped.
Angel felt himself lean into her touch, felt himself shudder. "It's me."
"But what's happened to you? How did you…?"
"I'm not sure," his voice replied. "One minute I was sitting there talking to you and the next, I'm a ghost, a spirit of some sort. Maybe I died, but I don't know how."
"And Angel? What have you done to him?"
"I don't know that either. I, uh, saw him making the moves on you. So I went right at him…and then this happens."
Buffy held his face in both hands and stared at him, searching. His head dipped down, lower, lower, until their lips touched. Soft, furtive, tender. Angel felt an ache deep inside of him as he experienced what he had longed for. Only it wasn't. Not really. He felt his arms envelope her, felt her heart beating, her pulse quickening. "I thought I'd never touch you again," the voice murmured in her ear. There was a low growling sound from deep in his throat and the rush of dead blood down his body, signaling his arousal. His hand pressed against the small of her back, drawing her closer.
Buffy pulled away. "We can't," she said, searching his face, looking deep into his eyes for a trace of the body's true owner. "What if—"
And then he kissed her again, harder this time. Silencing her.
No!
Angel panicked and fought back one last time as he felt his body pressing down on Buffy's; felt her yielding to his weight, lying back onto the mattress.
Please don't!
But his cries went unheard as skilful, knowing hands found their way under the cotton nightgown seeking, seeking, then pausing in all the right places. They made her gasp then sigh.
Please!
She was now fumbling at the front of his shirt, undoing the buttons. He felt the fabric tear off of him. Her hands splayed out over his chest, then went lower, to his belt. The leather strip slid away, and the buckle rattled as it hit the floor.
Don't!
With an impatient roughness, she shoved his pants down. He felt her grabbing him, guiding him. This was not the Buffy he knew. This was not—
And then suddenly, he was inside of her. Her heat warmed his cool body and he began thrusting, deeper and deeper; he felt a tingling from the friction caused by his skin sliding against her skin, again and again. He'd stopped resisting and had to wonder, were these his actions or Spike's? He didn't know anymore. He let the sensations take over—both new and familiar. He'd been with Buffy once before. But at the price of his soul! And now, what would be the cost? He stared into the face of the woman who had once brought him a moment of pure happiness, the woman he'd once loved. She stared back at him, her eyes soft and glazed, seeing but unseeing.
"I love you," she murmured, lowering her lids, smiling.
He felt a pain then, mixed with the pleasure. Long ago, he'd tried to run from her and the hurt she'd caused him. He thought he was saving them both. But he now realized he'd been wrong. He shouldn't have left. Instead, he should've searched for a way to make their love work. But he hadn't. He'd made a mistake and now it was too late.
Oh, Buffy. The biggest mistake of his life. I love you too.
