When Lucy calls us to eat, there's still been no sign of Wes. The meal's good – pasta and a sauce made with tomatoes, some veggies and an unusual seasoning I don't quite recognise. Engrossed in eating, we don't talk. My mind is on Wes, and Willow seems distracted in the way she always gets when she's trying to solve a problem. Clinton left again, apparently to set up the safe house for the detuning, which he's planning on for tomorrow at the latest.
I jump when my phone rings, and pick it up from the work top where I'd left it.
"Buffy?" Wes' voice provides an immediate drop in the tension I'd been feeling.
"Yes. You ok?"
"I'm out, but … it doesn't look good. I'll tell you more when I get there."
I pass on that news, and mention of Wes seems to remind Lucy of something.
"If it's possible, I'd like to sit down with you and Wes later. I've gone through the contract you agreed with the Senior Partners, and I'd really like to ensure that your memories and the written version tally as they should."
"Have you found anything?" I ask, desperate for some good news.
"There's something, but it really depends on the detail you experienced. The paper contract may have legal standing, but I don't think they're going to take you to court over any breach. It's the mystical version that's important. If there's a hole in it …"
I nod. Yes, we desperately need a hole in that contract. If there's any way I can get out of destroying Lucy and the others, I'd be happier. I mean, if I had a reason to do it, I'd be there in a flash. One slip into forcing women to join them, or a change in their policy on eating their mothers' flesh, and they'll be on my black list. Right now, though? I'd feel as good about destroying them as I'd have felt about killing Clem, or maybe worse. I mean, there was the whole kitten poker thing, and I'd bet they weren't just currency for him.
When we finish eating, I chase Lucy out of the kitchen, and start to clean up, pleased to note that Spike joins me. You'd think that since eating solid food is a bit of a novelty to him, he'd be a bit lost in a kitchen, but he isn't. I mean, I know he can use a microwave to heat blood, or make popcorn, but he seems quite comfortable with the whole thing.
We're just finishing up when Wes gets back, and we all reconvene in the living room. Wes is looking even more exhausted than before, and there's something else. His eyes have lost that glint of determination they had before, and I can feel my heart breaking just to see it.
We take our seats, and this time, I ensure that I'm on the sofa beside Wes. I just get the feeling he's going to need some contact, and I'm the closest friend he's got here. If there's one thing I know about Wes, it's that he's really not into physical contact beyond a handshake with people he doesn't know well.
"So, any problems?"
"Not with getting in or out, no. Fred's the sort of person everyone likes, and she seems so innocent that no one even considers that she might be up to something. I found what I needed to about those symbols. They're powerful, extremely powerful. They'll hide someone or something from just about any sort of surveillance. I mean, even face to face, people who see someone with those symbols won't even notice them. I suspect the effect will diminish if you already know the person concerned, especially if they draw attention to themselves by talking to you, for example. That explains why you, Buffy, were able to see Lilah, and if Gina is protected by the same symbols, those of us who know her would be able to see her if she were here. But strangers just wouldn't notice her, and she would be invisible to electronic surveillance, cameras and so forth. That puts paid to my next option, which was to call in some favours around town and get some people checking out CCTV tapes around the area pinpointed by Clinton's spell."
"But, isn't there a way of removing them?" Willow asks. "Surely, there must be some way of erasing the symbols?"
"Oh, there is." Wesley's smile is tight, and full of irony.
"Well," I say, trying to hurry him along.
"Well," he answers, looking straight at me. "Erasure of the symbols is pretty simple. It needs some demon blood, but the actual spell is simple enough."
"So, what's the catch?" I ask, getting irritated, despite my attempts to keep calm.
"Well, it's the old Catch-22, isn't it? To erase the symbols, I need to know exactly where she is. And while she's hidden by the symbols, the only way I'm going to find her is by bumping into her by sheer luck."
There's silence for a moment, while we let that soak in. Desperate to find something that'll console Wes in any way, I remind him of what Lilah said.
"But, it looks like she's safe for now. That's what Lilah said, and so far, it looks like she was telling the truth."
"Safe," he mutters, half under his breath. It's so quiet that I'm shocked by the volume of the next bit. "She might be safe, but if she's frightened, for herself or for the baby, then it's not bloody good enough. And I'd like to know how she's supposed to be anything other than scared witless. I mean, she lost so much before; there was a time when she thought she'd lose her mind. If anything happens to her because of this …"
He stops then, and I know he's vowing to hurt whoever's responsible. Except, as far as we know, the person who's responsible has put herself beyond pain.
I hold out my arms to him, and he looks at them, as if unsure what to do. I don't know who initiates the move, but the next thing I know, Spike, Willow and Lucy are all leaving the room. Once the witnesses are gone, Wes' inhibitions seem to fall, and he collapses into my arms and sobs. I hold him close, stroking his hair, saying those inanities that always seem so natural when you're trying to give comfort, whether it's to a small child or a grown man.
After several moments, he stills, and I feel him taking some deep breaths. He sits up, and immediately apologises. Before he can get more than a couple of words out, I hold up a hand to stop him.
"No apologies. Sometimes, you just need to vent a bit. I understand that."
He nods, and stands, saying, "Maybe I should go home for a bit. I'm feeling rather … rather …"
At that point, he sways alarmingly, and manages to fall back into the chair.
"Wes," I say. "Wes, you're exhausted. And you're not going home. Look, come with me, you can lie on my bed for a while, and have some sleep. When you've done that, then you can have a shower, and I'll see if Spike can lend you some clean clothes, or better still, I'll get Spike to run over to your place and get you a change."
He's about to argue, but then he seems to realise that he's in no fit state to drive anywhere. He nods, and stands again, steadying himself on the back of the sofa.
He manages the walk to my bedroom without incident, while I hover behind, just in case. I'm relieved to note that Spike isn't there when I open the door, so I just pull the drapes, then leave Wes who's already sprawled out on the bed, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he was already asleep.
I find the others in Willow's room, where she's holding court over her laptop. She's got it connected to the internet via her cell phone, and she's checking out some further leads on those symbols. By the look on her face, though, she's not finding anything new.
Spike approaches as I go in, saying quietly, "How's the Watcher?"
"Exhausted. But I think he's asleep for now. Was it your idea to leave us?"
"Well, yeah. I know how a bloke like that feels about showing what he'd consider to be weakness."
"Thanks, I think he'll feel better after some sleep."
"You sure he's asleep?" Willow pipes up. "'Cos, you know, if he can't, maybe I could help."
"I'm sure, Willow. Worried or not, there just comes a point when your body gives out on you, and I think he's reached that."
I pause then, and I know we're all listening for any sign that Wes is moving around.
"So, what've you got?" I ask, to break the silence.
"Nothing really," Willow admits. "I can't even find a reference to those symbols like Wes did. I've checked all the usual sources of old scripts and languages, but I can't see anything that matches exactly."
"So, Lucy, is there any point in you and I looking at this contract business, or would it be better to wait for Wes?"
"Well, given what I understand to be his background, his Watcher training for example, should have given him an ability with details, so I'd prefer to wait until morning. Besides, even though I slept for a while this afternoon, I'm pretty tired."
"Fine," I reply. I turn to Spike. "Feel like a quick patrol? Hit the streets and see if there's anything looking to snack on the locals?"
As I knew they would, Spike's eyes light up at the possibility. Despite our earlier activity, he's still wound tighter than he can find comfortable.
"What about our hostage situation?" he asks.
"Well, if they can see what's going on, they'll know Willow's here, and I'm sure they know she's pretty powerful, so they can assume she's on hostage-sitting duty."
"And the Watcher?" he asks.
"Will," I turn to face her. "You can keep an ear out for Wes, can't you? And you can let us know if there's a problem."
"Sure," she agrees. "There're a couple of other sites I want to check, so I'm not going to bed for a while."
I do a quick survey of what I'm wearing. Not the best choice for a patrol, but I've known worse. The prospect of going into the room to change is not one I'm going to entertain, though, so I slip my arm through Spike's, pick up my cell phone, and we're out of there.
"We should hit the store before we get back," Spike suggests as we get to the door.
"Yeah, and I offered to get Wes a change of clothes," I add, turning back to the living room. As expected, there I quickly spot Wes' phone and keys where he dropped them as he came in.
We get to the area I had in mind, and I close my eyes, trying to sense anything less than wholesome. The tingle seems to be coming from further along the road, and I start to pull Spike in that direction, only to find that he's already moving in the right direction.
We hear a scream, and follow it into an alleyway. Just why do so many cities have alleys like this? They're magnets for all sorts of evil, of both the human and demon variety. Spike's longer legs ensure that he's ahead and, not surprisingly, he's not waiting. I hear some grunting, which I just about recognise as Fyarl, even if I don't have a clue what it means. Now, a Fyarl demon's trouble. They're just too big and strong to ever take beating them for granted. Not the brightest perhaps, but when you're built like a tank, sometimes you don't need to be. With that in mind, I slow, walking as quietly as I can, and peer into the distance to take in the situation.
The Fyarl's even bigger than most, and the reason things haven't degenerated yet is apparent when I see that one of his huge scaly arms is around a girl's neck. There's something behind them too – I can see a shoe which I assume to be on a foot, but it's lying still, and I've got no way of knowing whether the owner's alive or dead.
I take a look around, and spot a fire-escape above the Fyarl. If only I can find a way to get there, I can take him by surprise. I spot the route quickly. Unfortunately, that route involves an overfull dumpster, and I take another glance at my clothes. Definitely not what I'd choose to go climbing about in one of those, not that I'd ever choose to go climbing about in a dumpster.
I move into the alley, keeping to the darkest shadows, and watch the stand off for a moment. I know that Spike knows what I'm doing, because he's moved so as to take the Fyarl's attention away from me. I climb into the dumpster, and from the top of the trash, which fortunately, seems to be of a dry and comparatively unsmelly variety, I jump to the ramp above, grabbing onto the edge, and haul myself up and over the railing. Again, Spike helps out, as the level of incomprehensible growling increases to cover any noise. I creep along the walkway until I'm right over the Fyarl. I pause then, taking in the details from this angle. I check through my pockets, ignoring the stakes and finding a small silver knife. I make sure it's handy, then choose the sharpest stake I've got. It's not going to do any serious harm to the demon, but for now, all I want is for him to let the girl go.
Stake in hand, I jump, lunging towards his arm with my stake as I fall. Between my momentum and my strength, the stake sinks in through his scaly hide without difficulty, and he instinctively moves his arm, releasing the girl in the process. Fortunately, she's still with it enough to scramble away as soon as she can, running to cower behind Spike.
"Thanks, Love," Spike says once I'm on the ground and ready to get down to the main business. "Stupid nancy-boy didn't want to do without the hostage, even though I've been telling him it takes all the fun out of it. But then, he knew there was a Slayer coming, so maybe it's understandable."
Big and strong as he is, the Fyarl really doesn't stand a chance against Spike and me. It might be a while since we patrolled together, but you wouldn't know it the way we fight. Each of us knows what the other intends, and before long, Spike's wrenching his head, breaking his neck and ensuring the demon's not able to fight back.
"Now all we need is some silver," he says, stepping back and patting pockets he must know don't have anything suitable. I pick the knife out of my pocket, and take its cover off. I hand it to him, knowing he needs to do this, while I go to check on the girl. She's crouched next to the owner of the shoe, and it's now obvious it's a young man.
"Are you hurt?" I ask.
She looks at me, as if unsure for a moment, then shakes her head.
"But Bob – he's … he's…"
"Alive," I finish, checking for a pulse. "What happened to him?"
"The … thing. It wanted me, and Bob tried to get between us. He just batted him away with one arm."
"I'll call an ambulance," I offer.
"No, I … already did. While you were fighting. And the cops. Should be here soon."
"You be ok till they get here?"
She looks puzzled. "Why? You're not going?"
"Yeah. Explanations could take a while. And you can tell them what happened."
"How do I explain? I don't even know what happened." She pauses then, and looks over to the now dead body of the Fyarl. "What was that anyway?" she asks.
"Do you really want to know?" I ask, because, surprisingly often, people don't.
Spike's waiting. I join him, and we walk out of the alley together. Once out on the sidewalk, we wait, pretending to read through a menu outside a restaurant close by, until we hear the sirens, then we leave. Quickly, but trying not to look like we're in a hurry. The adrenalin from the fight is working its usual course, and I know Spike feels the same. I daren't touch him as we walk, because I know I won't be able to let go.
"Do we really need to stop off?" he asks, and I want to tell him we don't. But I promised Wes, and if we don't get some food, there're going to be several unhappy people in the apartment in the morning.
We head to Wes' place, and I open the door then go and pick out some clothes for him while Spike paces in the hallway. Then, we go to the market, picking up supplies in the most haphazard manner I've ever done. Concentrating on something as mundane as food is just really hard when all I want to do is get somewhere private. You'd think having other things to do would clear my mind, allowing me to concentrate on something other than my baser instincts, but when the cause of those instincts is right beside you all the time, believe me, it doesn't help at all.
The journey home is done as fast as we can, and we carry the groceries through the living room into the kitchen. It's then we notice the lack of sofa, and I spot a note from Willow telling us to use her room, since she's taken the sofa into Lucy's room. In all my hormone-driven haste, I'd forgotten about the small matter of Wes being in our bed. We dump the groceries in the kitchen, and Spike's arms are around me, pulling me towards the bedroom, but I stop him, going back to put some things in the fridge, before yielding to his demands.
Within five minutes of getting back to the apartment, Spike closes the bedroom door behind us, and stalks towards where I'm already lying on the bed.