Chapter 9 – Motivated By Envy

An hour later, I'm sitting in a coffee bar waiting. I'm wondering what it is he wants to tell me about. All I know is it's something he thinks I should know about, and he doesn't want to talk about it over the phone. And no, it won't wait. I sip my mocha, and wonder how long he's going to be, when I see him standing in the doorway, eclipsing any view of outside. He's bigger than I remember – has it really been such a short time since I saw him? He spots me, and his expression changes, from worry to – is that relief? I'm sure it is, and with that knowledge comes another fact. He wasn't sure I'd come.

He sits beside me, and I ask if he's going to have anything.

"No, I'm not good with caffeine," he says, as if we hadn't had this same conversation a dozen times before.

"They do decaffeinated," I remind him. He shrugs.

"Never saw the point of that."

I take a deep breath, and I'm about to ask him why he called, when he speaks again.

"It's good to see you. I've … missed you."

"Look, Angel, I thought there was something important happening, and if there isn't, then it's not doing either of us any favours being here together."

"There is … something important. I just had to say it. I miss you. I wish you would come home, but I know you need time."

"Angel, it's not time I need, I told you that. Us, we, we just weren't working. Not for me. I'm sorry, but I can't change it. And, if you'll only think about it, you'll realise you don't love me either. You love sixteen-year-old Buffy, the new Slayer, all innocent and vulnerable. You're in love with someone who doesn't exist any more. And I'm not going to talk about this any more. So, if there's something else you want to say, say it, because if there isn't, I'm leaving."

He puts a hand on my arm. It's gentle, and it's not threatening, but it still seems intrusive.

"Ok, Buffy, I'll get to that part. Remember Sunnydale? The First? I think someone's trying to undo what you did there – someone is planning on reversing everything, opening up the Sunnydale Hellmouth, maybe even taking the power from all the extra slayers."

Ok, that was worth the call, I admit it.

"What makes you say that?"

"You know the amulet that did it all? Destroyed the Hellmouth?"

I make a show of having to think carefully. I don't know what he's expecting, but I'm trying to be cautious.

"Yes, what about it?" I note that, yet again, the man who wore the amulet doesn't get a mention.

"Well, the records on the amulet are kept at Wolfram and Hart, and I've been informed that someone has accessed them."

"Oh." Well, what else can I say? Ok, yes, there is that.

"Who?"

"That's the thing. I, that is, my informant, doesn't know, and she doesn't understand why she doesn't know."

I try very hard not to breathe a sigh of relief at that. Wait a minute, what was that?

"Your informant?"

"Someone who looks after some things for me."

"Who?"

"I'd rather not say."

"You expect me to take this seriously, but you're not willing to tell me who's been whispering in your ear?"

He grins at that. "You sound jealous." His voice is almost a purr.

"I am not jealous. I just want to know who it is who thinks Sunnydale's about to be open for demon business again."

He pauses, and then I see the decision in his eyes.

"Lilah," he says, quietly, and he's waiting for my reaction. And it's so obvious what he thinks it's going to be that I can hardly control my irritation. He only told me her name because he thinks that's going to fire my jealousy.

"She's dead," I remind him, keeping my voice level, and doing my best to keep my irritation under control, because if he can sense a raised pulse rate, he'll probably see it as proof of what he wants to think. But then, maybe that'd be better than the alternative.

"Yes, she's dead, but she's my contact with the aspects of Wolfram and Hart that I don't control. They only ceded the LA branch to me."

"And you believe her," I say, but it's obvious from my tone of voice that I can't understand why he'd believe her, even if she's partly right in the present situation.

"Look, I know she's not exactly on my side, but she's never steered me wrong. She's always got her own agenda, but if she's right, then it could be big trouble."

"Even if she's right about someone checking the records, it doesn't mean that's what they're planning on doing with the information. Maybe it's just intellectual curiosity."

"Those records are top secret. Officially, apart from the Senior Partners, and Lilah, no one else knows of their existence. And what else could it be? There's no other reason I can think of."

I don't sense a lie in what he says, but then, I can't help but think that in almost two hundred and sixty years, almost anyone could learn to lie convincingly.

My mind's going round in circles. Lilah. The exact person I want to find, and here's my opening. But, what if it's a set up? Maybe she knows who it was, and it's some sort of a trap. Then again, it might be the only chance we get, and Spike's running out of time.

"I want to meet her."

At first I wonder if he actually heard me.

"Lilah? Why?"

"I want to be able to watch her while she tells me that someone's going to re-open Sunnydale."

"I don't think she'll agree," he answers.

"Persuade her. I'm sure you're more than capable."

That last part is a measured risk. It's a carrot; half implying that I think he's got Lilah interested in him, and that, coupled with his perception of my jealousy should be the spur to make him try. At least, that's what I'm hoping. And since when did I use Angel's feelings for me as a weapon? Well, since it gives me a shot at getting Spike back.

"I'll ask, but I can't promise. If she agrees, it'll have to be somewhere in the W&H building. Her … contract keeps her limited in where she can go."

"Good enough," I tell him, draining my cup. "You've got my number, call me when you set it up."

And then I get up and walk towards the door. I know he's not following as I go outside, because, hey, I've got this sense where vampires are concerned. I walk to my car as my mind goes through the possibilities. And then there's the arrogance and pig-headedness of the man. Where does he get off thinking I'm jealous? How … ?

And then I hear a scream, and I follow the sound into an alley. I can't see anything, and the sound's gone, but I can sense them. Vampires, two of them. I approach quietly, and I just know they're thinking they've got one each now.

The attack, when it comes, is two-pronged and swift, but it's also a pretty dismal attempt. It takes me exactly ten seconds to stake the first of them, and less than half a minute after that to finish the second. It takes me longer to find their intended victim, who's fainted and lying in the darkest part of the alley. I wake her up, dust her down, and take her to her car with instructions to go straight home before I can return to my own car. When I do, I know he's close. I don't see him, but I know he's watching. Like he used to do when I was sixteen. So, I get into my car and drive home before I'm tempted to find him and hit him to show that I'm not that little girl any more.

When I get home, Willow tells me that she's set up to meet Fred in the morning. I respond with the information that Angel gave me. Willow's worried.

"I think she knows, Lilah knows," she says, a hint of fear in her eyes.

I shrug. "I don't know. It's possible, but right now, we don't have time to waste. If she knows, and it's a trap, well, I've managed to get out of traps before now."

"Ok," she murmurs. But it's the sort of ok that means it's not ok, but that she can't think of anything to dissuade me right now.

"See what you can find out from Fred tomorrow," I suggest, and Willow immediately brightens. She's always been like that, well, apart from during her dark phase. She's naturally timid, not the sort to choose to take risks, but the risks always seem more acceptable if she feels she's doing something about it.

"So, how was it, you know, otherwise? Seeing Angel?"

"He thinks I'm jealous of Lilah."

"You're not serious!"

"Wish I wasn't, but then, I think that's the only reason he agreed to try and set up a meeting. Unless he's involved in the trap too."

"I don't believe he'd try to hurt you."

"No, neither do I," I reply, and I mean it. He might do something that would hurt me, but I don't think he wouldn't do it consciously. Unless he thought it was for my own good, I remember bitterly.

I look at the time, and realise it's later than I thought. For the first time in a long time I wish I didn't have to go to work in the morning. Spending time on anything other than trying to get Spike back just feels like a waste, but there's no alternative. Regardless of whether or not I get him back, I'm still going to need a way to earn money, and I just can't afford to do anything to jeopardise the business. And, the truth is, that until I've got that controller, there's not much else I can do.

I look at Willow, and see the familiar dark shadows under her eyes. One advantage I've got, although I've never been sure whether it's just the colouring or something to do with Slayer powers – I don't get them the way she does.

"You're tired," I comment, gently.

"Yeah," she admits.

"So?"

"Ok," she laughs at me. "I'm going."

Sleep doesn't come easily. When I do sleep, I know, even in my sleep, that it's not restful.

And then he's there, with me. Spike. I'm so relieved that I feel my eyes fill with tears, and I pull him down onto the bed with me, needing to feel him close to me. We kiss, and with the inconsistency of a dream, we're soon naked and things are progressing very satisfactorily. Except, suddenly, the weight on my body increases, and I look up to see Angel's face, rather than Spike's. And he's grinning, and telling me he knew I still loved him. I'm trying to push him off, but it's as if my Slayer strength is gone, and there's no way I can move him. He doesn't seem to have noticed there's anything wrong, he's telling me we're meant to be together, that it's our destiny.

Panic wells within me, because this isn't right. I don't love him, and I don't want him here in my bed. His hands feel rough, almost violent, and I'm pinned in place. I try to scream, but he kisses me and the sound is smothered by a mouth which seems totally alien to me.

And then I know we're not alone. There's someone else in the room, and I wrench my head around to see, and it's Lilah, openly wearing the controller, waving it at me and laughing at my inability to do anything about it.

"This is your future," she's taunting. "Better get used to it. You enjoyed it once, maybe you can again."

And then she's laughing again, and she takes the controller from her wrist and places it on the floor. She lifts her foot, and brings it down on the device, smashing the disc that matches the amulet.

"Now, all you've got is Angel," she sneers. "All you'll ever have is Angel."

I finally manage to scream, and the sound of it fills my ears. I scream again, emptying my lungs before refilling them in a gasping breath and screaming again.

And then something's pulling at me, moving my arm, and I look and Angel's gone, and Willow's sitting at the edge of my bed shaking me.

A dream. It's funny, when it started, I knew it was a dream. When it was about Spike, I thought it was one of his dreams, the ones I don't remember in the morning, but which leave a stamp of him on me. Then, it was real. It went from being Spike in my bed to Angel, and my panic overtook everything else.

I calm slowly, taking deep breaths, and Willow doesn't ask for an explanation, happy to just wait until I'm ready.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks at last.

"No, … yes, … I don't know."

"Well, I guess the answer's in there somewhere."

I smile. Relief that it was just a dream gradually sinking in.

"It was a dream. I think it was just a dream, not a Slayer dream, or a prophecy or anything."

She nods and waits while I sketch the plot of it.

"You could be right," she agrees. "It could just be a reaction to what happened tonight – all your fears coming out to say 'boo'."

"But you don't think so," I offer.

"Didn't say that," she disagrees. "Not even sure I would. Truth is? I don't know. You're probably the best judge since you're the one having all the Slayery dreams and all."

She's right. And, now that I think about it, it does have the hallmarks of an ordinary nightmare. So, maybe …

"You ok?" she asks, stifling a yawn.

"Yeah, thanks, Will. You go back to bed. I'll be fine."

She does, and I lie there, trying to remember the good part of the dream, Spike, here, in my arms, even better than I remembered from before. Spike without guilt. I try to brand that feeling into my mind as I drift back to sleep, trying to imagine him here, holding me, keeping me safe, knowing that I love him.