He tried to think of a specific demon name—God knew he had scads in his memory, but now that he truly needed it, could he remember?
Of course not.
"I eat the skin of my victims," he crowed. "Mmm, yummy." He ignored the dual feelings of horror and delight he felt while yelling such outrageous things. The worst part of it was he could taste the blood, taste it thick and clinging in the back of his throat. It made him thirsty.
"A bit early in the day to be so soused, is it not?" William started at the voice, his eyes careening around for the source of the quiet tones that spoke of education and propriety. When his eyes rested upon a small man leaning against the wall of a pub, his clothing muted and dorky, William felt a flash of hope.
"I'm not pissed, mate, I'm bloody well evil," Spike's voice bragged. "And don't you forget it," he added, the smug smirk flashing over William's gentler features. Before he could congratulate himself on what he thought was a clever innovation rather than second nature, the man had a surprisingly strong grip on William's elbow and was leading him through the streets.
"Where in the hell are you taking me? Let go, dammit, I'm perfectly right in the head, capable of walking by myself, I thank you—"
"Sum corpus," the small man said at the back door of another pub, sweeping William through when the door opened.
"I am body?" William translated quickly. "What in the bloody hell—"
"Your incessant nattering is making my head ache and I'd be an appreciative man if you could find it in you to shut your gob," the man said pleasantly, the grip still unwavering. William didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't so strong that he needed to be manhandled. It was all a bit exciting, really, and—
Familiar. So familiar.
"It means 'I am body' when literally translated but we like to think of it more as 'I am but body.' Only flesh, we are, but we do what we can. We're not as good as—" the man broke off, clearing his throat noisily. "Never mind that." He steered them through hallway after hallway, unerringly and unhesitatingly turning down corridors that seemed to stretch for miles. Finally, he stopped in front of a door, knocked once, and threw it open with alacrity that William hadn't expected of him.
"Theodore, fight," he said tersely, shoving William in front of a middle-aged gentleman who was cradling a cup of tea. Before William could even begin to protest and Spike could even begin to clamor for a fight, the man had set down the tea and was coming at him.
Block, punch, turn… Spike knew all the moves, but William didn't have the speed, didn't have the power. He held his own for all of a minute before succumbing to the other man. He fell to the floor and scrambled back, his hands held in front of him.
Nancy, Spike sneered internally.
The man, Theodore, calmly picked up his tea and eyed William's captor with amusement. "Any particular reason you brought this lad in to fight me, Hamilton?"
"He said he was a demon," Hamilton said, his voice still quiet. Despite his demeanor, William could tell that the little man was clearly the boss. All eyes were on him, and all ears were perked. "And unless he's a Iuliago, he's not a demon."
William didn't understand the snickers, but after a moment, Spike did. "Iuliago… I'm not that bloody clumsy." The demons were known for one thing and one thing alone—their inability to stand on their own two feet without bringing catastrophe to themselves.
"Who are you?"
"I'm William Bryce, and you're all Watchers," he said matter-of-factly, once again letting his own voice blend with Spike's. "Or poor excuses for Watchers, that you'd let me into the inner sanctum and hear your little clubhouse secret password." He snickered and climbed to his feet, feeling better already. "Is there a handshake that goes with it?"
What he got wasn't a handshake, but a hand clamped so firmly to the back of his neck that it made his eyes water. Hamilton stood behind him and spoke in that level voice. "We're going to need to have a talk, my boy. I will ask questions, and you will answer."
"Fine, you friggin' bully," William said through clenched teeth. "And it may be that I'll have a few questions of my own."
~~~
"Should we tell him?" Willow's face was a study in worry as she stared at the data on the laptop Wesley had loaned her.
Wesley grimaced. Though he'd come a long way from the by-the-book Watcher he had been, there were still parts of him that clung to the rules so tightly they squealed. He was afraid this was going to be one of those parts of him. "As pleasant as it would be to pretend we didn't unearth this nasty little bit of information, it occurs to me that Angel would like to know. Not only for his sake, since it involves him in a roundabout way, but also for…" he trailed off, clearing his throat uncomfortably. He didn't want to speak for the Slayer he barely knew.
"Yeah, she wanted answers," Willow said sadly. "But all this is going to do is raise more questions. And it'll make Angel even more broody."
"Is that possible?" Angel's voice sounded from behind them and Willow's face instantly matched her hair.
"No," Wesley said carelessly, turning to face Angel. "We have some news."
"And I was afraid today was going to be boring," Angel said, ignoring the twinge in his stomach. If it was bad news, he'd just get it over with at once.
"We found out more about that necklace you gave Spike," Willow said. "And it turns out it was more than just 'Ooh, pretty, look at all the glowy light.'"
"Well, I figured as much. So far we're still on stuff we know." Angel looked at the witch with an intensity that told just how seriously he was going to take the matter.
"It has to do with Shanshu," Wesley said quietly. "The necklace…" He looked at Willow and motioned for her to finish.
Preferring the unemotional glare of the monitor to the unemotional glare of Angel, she read straight from the archives she'd accessed. "'The vampire with a soul shall wear a sign of his destiny from which said destiny will culminate. The sign's power can only be unharnessed by the one for whom it is meant: more than a human but souled nonetheless.'"
Angel rubbed a hand roughly through his hair and tried to pin down a single reaction in the eddies of emotion that warred within him. Jealousy that had only started to rear its head when he'd learned of Spike's soul. Disappointment that he hadn't been chosen for the honor, chosen for that which he'd always considered his. Anger, at circumstances and at himself for being so arrogant. He knew better than to mess with powers and fate. Finally, most puzzling of all, was relief.
Angel had known he had no idea how to be human again. Not the faintest.
"Spike is human." That seemed the safest thing to say.
"We don't know enough about the process to say," Wesley said. "But there seem to be two options. If he became human on the spot, then he's dead. He would have become human just as the building came down around him." He gave Willow a sympathetic look as she sighed heavily. "However, it's a strong possibility that he would be restored somewhere else altogether."
"We need to tell Buffy," Willow said urgently, her eyes pleading with Angel.
"Buffy needs peace," Angel retorted. She'd said so herself, hadn't she? And how could her life be peaceful with the return of Spike, now a human with a soul and without a monster inside?
How could Angel's life be peaceful if he knew they were together, both human, both whole? And if he was human, that meant there could be more. There could be children.
"I'll tell her," he lied. "I gave her the pendant, I'll tell her." His conscience pricked at him as he turned and walked away but he gave it no mind.
It had been through much worse, anyway.