Chapter Three.
Angel kept smelling Spike, and it was driving him crazy.
He couldn't figure out where the scent was coming from. He'd been all over the hotel, and the only place the scent lingered was the lobby, but he couldn't pinpoint a location. There was no one spot where the scent was located- it was just in the air, floating around, driving him mad.
It wasn't until Cordelia started gossiping about Wesley's new boyfriend, however, that things began to fall into place. It all made sense, when he thought about it that way- the way Wes had avoided him skillfully after his first enthusiastic greeting, the way he couldn't figure out where Spike's scent was coming from. Because it was coming from Wes.
Cordelia's description of "Will" didn't fit, but when he went through Wes' office late one night, he discovered that the book on illusions and glamour was missing, and he figured out how they'd navigated that obstacle. The two of them must have met not long after he'd left, from Cordelia's detailed overview of summer events, and Spike had been with Wesley for just over a week, now.
Well then. Perhaps it was time to pay Spike a visit.
Spike had been in a good mood that evening. Sure, Wes had to work late, but Spike had a nice surprise planned for him when he did get home, involving honey, melon balls, and the leather-lined handcuffs.
And then someone came clomping down the hall, with a heavy footstep that Spike remembered all too well. So when he heard the footsteps stop in front of the door, he wasn't surprised. He was even less surprised to see the door kicked in, and to see Angel standing in the hallway, scowling like they'd discontinued his favorite line of hair-care products.
But he grinned when Angel tried to enter, and was repelled by the invisible barrier that extended across the threshold. "Some-one's never been to see the Watcher," he sing-songed, and grinned even wider when Angel's glare went up in intensity. "It makes me feel all warm inside, to see you stuck out there. You've never been here before, never bothered to come visit the friend you raced over her to defend, and now you can't do anything. Should've stirred yourself to care a bit sooner."
And with that, he shut the door in Angel's face, ignoring the way the catch made an odd crunching noise, and went to call Wes.
Wesley was working himself into a fine bit o rage as he drive across town. Damn Angel. Sanctimonious prig who was so sure he knew what was right that he stuck his nose where it didn't belong.
So there was more than a bit of stomping going on as he made his way up the steps and down the hall, and the scowl on his face was even blacker than Angel's. "What do you think you're doing?" he snarled, his momentum carrying him within Angel's reach and further, till he was in Angel's personal space and glaring right into his eyes from a few inches away. "What twisted function of your brain gave you the illusion that you had the right to rant and rave and storm about- not to mention the damage you've done to my home."
Angel looked surprised at the force of his anger, but recovered quickly enough and growled right back, "You handed over the God-damned right the moment you slept with a vampire. The moment you fucking well had sex with Spike!"
"So you're what, jealous?" Wesley snapped.
"What? No! I'm just-"
"Yes, please explain why sleeping with a vampire in general is less heinous than sleeping with Spike in particular."
"Because he's evil!" Angel burst out. "He's worse than your average vampire. He doesn't hunt for food, or for the artistry of a true kill- he slaughters for the joy of the blood and the screams."
"He doesn't hunt at all, now," Wesley pointed out. "Or have you forgotten? He has a computer chip implanted in his skull that prevents him from harming any living being. I'm safer with him in my bed than with a human lover that could hurt me."
"He could burn the place around you," Angel argued. "He'd do it and laugh as your body charred to ash."
"You're forgettin' something, Angelus," Spike said from the doorway. Both men whirled around to face him standing just behind the threshold with a serious expression that sat oddly on his face. "You're forgetting that once someone is mine, I will make a deal with the Devil and let the world burn, as long as they're safe beside me."
Wesley felt frozen in time, stuck in the moment where he heard Spike's words echoing around the inside of his head, listening to the vow of… something. Loyalty, perhaps. Not love. They didn't love each other, but there was definitely something, something that had led Wesley to confess the sordid story of his father, and something that had led Spike to make the vow he did in front of Angel, of all people.
Mine, the mental Spike-voice echoed, and the moment was broken.
He was across the threshold and into Spike's arms in less than an eyeblink of time, just barely registering the worried/defiant look on Spike's face that had appeared in the time it had taken him to move. Angel made a noise of frustration and disgust as he was forced to stand on the other side and watch as Wesley buried his face in the crook of Spike's neck, and the vampire that Angel hated more than any other smirked at him over Wesley's shoulder.
Wesley didn't turn around, just held onto Spike like he was the man's only lifetime in the world and said, "Go home, Angel. Just… go home, and leave us be."
Angel stood there for a long, tense moment, silently seething, before turning on one hell and storming off down the hallway. Wes and Spike shared a long look, then at the same time they reach out to shut the door, and went to bed.
The first time the phone rang, Wes didn't pick it up. Nor did he pick it up the second time it rang, or the third, or the fourth. The fifth time it rang Spike started across the room to answer it, clearly with the intent of saying something nasty and probably inventively obscene, but Wesley stopped him before he got his hands on the receiver. It didn't ring a sixth time, because Wes made sure to turn off the ringer.
After Cordelia left a scathing message on the answering machine, Wesley listened with a tight expression on his face and turned off the phone completely.
They stayed comfortably in the apartment for another two days, but after that Spike started to get itchy. A day after that he got Wesley's attention away from some demonic text he was translating, and told him so.
"It's not that I don't live all this time with you, pet," he explained with an attempt at earnestness, though God knew he didn't do "earnest" very well. "It's just that I'd love it more if some of the time we were somewhere beside this sodding apartment."
Wesley sighed and leaned back against the frame of the kitchen doorway. "You're not wrong," he told Spike. "We do need to get out of here for a time before cabin fever sets in completely. You have a suggestion, I assume?"
"There's this club," Spike said eagerly, glad that Wes was listening. "Demons and humans both, but with a protection spell like that place Caritas you were goin' on about. I know clubs aren't really your thing, pet, but you'll enjoy this one, I promise."
Spike was right, of course- Wesley wasn't exactly an avid clubber. But it sounded like fun for Spike, if nothing else, and he couldn't say he didn't want to get out of the apartment. "It's worth a try," he said, and was instantly rewarded by the beaming smile that Spike sent his way.
The club was fantastic, Wes had to admit. It was a little odd to be surrounded by both demons and humans, but the demons were fairly mainstream, and mostly nonviolent even without the spell, so it wasn't too odd. Even if it had been, Spike was there, and had dug up a new outfit from somewhere or other, and he consumed the whole of Wesley's attention without even trying.
Wesley wasn't much of a dancer, but he didn't have to be, here. Spike had dragged him into the very center of the dance floor, then grabbed his hips and pulled him close. All Wesley had to do was let Spike draped himself over him, and follow his lead. It was hot and close and his pulse pounded in time with the music, and there was Spike with his black leather and shine and Wesley was captivated.
They eventually got overheated and somewhat parched, so they left the dance floor in search of a drink. Both were somewhat reluctant to part, however, reluctant to give up the body-molding closeness, and it showed in the way they walked close together, shoulders and hand and hips bumping and rubbing together.
They'd just made it to the bar when a noise caught their attention. The door to the alley was right by the bar, and even Wesley could hear the grunts and snarls of a fight. They exchanged a glance- Spike's eager, and Wesley's resigned- before they both moved over and Spike kicked the door open.
There was something large and blue with lots of teeth, and two men fighting it. Wesley had just enough time to recognize them as Angel and Gunn before Spike gave a whoop of joy and dove into the fight. Wesley sighed, looked around, saw Angel's spare sword lying on the ground, then picked it up and joined in.
The fight was over in a matter of minutes, with the demon- whatever it was- dying in a messy explosion of sticky goo. Wesley had to stifle a laugh when he saw that Angel and Gunn were splattered with the stuff, while Spike had somehow pulled himself and Wesley safely out of the splash zone, so that not a drop landed on either of them.
A blue-soaked Angel and Gunn just stared at the two of them, Angel looking angry and Gunn just looking a little shell-shocked, and Wesley took a moment to look at himself as they must see him. Wearing boots and his own leather trousers, usually reserved for making a show of things on his bike, and one of Spike's too-small black t-shirts, with a thick silver chain circling his neck. Spike, in paper-thin leather pants that faithfully cupped his crotch (not that Wesley had noticed) and an equally thin leather vest, buttoned only once in the middle of his chest, with a woven leather collar, eyeliner framing his eyes, and his hair standing up in messy spikes.
Hmm. No wonder Gunn looked so surprised.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Angel erupted, and just as Wesley opened his mouth to answer Spike jumped in.
"Were in the club, weren't we?" Spike said, jerking his thumb towards the door behind him where the music could be heard faintly. "Got a bit parched, heard noises when we got to the bar. Prob'ly wouldn't've bothered if we'd known Captain Caveman here had things under control, right Wes?"
"Something like that," Wesley said coolly. "You two had the situation well in hand, which I'm sure is a great comfort to endangered innocents all across the city."
"And that's just as sweet as little lambs frisking in the sun," Spike broke in, "but if the evil fighters don't mind, I'm thirsty and we still haven't ordered our damn drinks."
"Don't do this, Wes," Angel said. "Don't go wit him. Don't damn well trust him. He'll make you regret it in a thousand painful ways."
"Like leaving us to die, for all the care you showed?" he tossed at Angel, then turned on Gunn. "Like hundreds of cold silences simply because I understood the cost of war?" Wes shook his head in disgust. "Why do I even bother with you two?"
"He'll break your heart, Wes," Angel said in a low, intense voice. "Even if he doesn't break your mind and body, he'll definitely break your heart."
"That happened long ago," Wes said. He looked directly at Gunn as he said it, and watched almost clinically as hurt flitted across the man's mobile face. "I'm not worried about it happening again."
Wes watched Angel give up- it was written all over his face- and then snarl, "Your fucking loss," before turning and stalking off into the night.
"I wanna talk to Wes," Gunn said, and when Spike made no move to leave Gunn glared at him and added, "Alone."
"It's alright," Wes said, not looking away from Gunn's face. "He won't hurt me."
"Bloody well better not," Spike growled, and glared at Gunn. "I'll be right inside the door," he warned, and Gunn nodded once to show he understood.
Spike's heavy boots thudded on the pavement, followed by the creak of the door hinges, and the door slamming shut behind him. Wes just stood, looking relaxed even though he wasn't, and watched Gunn.
"You'n me," Gunn said finally, "we're not okay. And it doesn't have a damn thing to do with what happened in Pylea. It's about that demon in there, and you fucking him and lying to us about it."
"Actually, he's usually the one doing the fucking," Wesley said, just so he could have the pleasure of watching the pain and disgust spasm across Gunn's face.
"Doesn't changed the fact that you lied to us, English," Gunn said tightly, once he'd gotten himself under control.
Wesley shrugged with a nonchalance that he didn't feel. "At first it was just one night. It knew who he was, of course, but I also knew he was safe, and there didn't seem to be much reason not to. Then it became a regular sort of thing, just sex and beer and companionship. And then I came home after the fight with the V'sha'ak, and he was so damn protective, wanted to make sure I didn't get killed because Angel was a ponce, or somesuch, and we could use an extra fighter. So I put a glamour on him so Cordelia wouldn't recognize him. And then before I knew it, I was in a relationship." He shrugged helplessly. "If I'd known the moment that he sat down at my table that it would lead to this, I might have said no and avoided it all, but I'm not sure I regret saying yes."
"Do you love him?" Gunn wanted to know.
"No," Wesley said after a moment's consideration. "Nor does he love me, I don't think."
"Then why?" Gunn seemed to be lost, not able to understand any of it, and Wesley thought that he honestly couldn't blame the man. He was baffled by being with Spike too, sometimes.
"It's comfortable," he surprised himself by saying. "I just sort of got used to it, and now it's… addictive. He's addictive."
"Yeah, I can kinda get the sex thing, if I stretch my brain far enough into places it doesn't wanna go," Gunn said. "But Angel told me that the bastard's living with you, Wes."
Wesley sighed. "I'm not going to stand out here all night and explain myself to you," he said patiently. "Because it doesn't matter what I say, really. You've already made up your mind that I'm wrong. I'm sure you even had some tearful reconciliation planned, where I would proclaim the wrongness of my actions and beg for your forgiveness, or somesuch. And since that isn't going to happen, I think I might as well just go back inside. Spike's waiting."
"Yeah," Gunn said. "That's the problem." And when Wesley stared at him, letting the impatience he felt show on his face, Gunn added softly, "I was waiting, too."
And that gave Wesley pause, but only for a moment. "As was I," he said gently. "But eventually, I got tired of waiting."
Gunn had nothing to say to that, so he just stood there, and watched as Wesley walked away. Watched as he went back to the club.
Back to Spike.
They were eating breakfast when they heard the knock on the door. Well, Wesley was eating breakfast- Spike had already have a cup of blood, and he was watching Wesley, mentally calculating how fast he could strip him out of his clothes.
Wesley went to answer it, and there was Angel, and Spike felt the weird shift of déjà vu. He could have heard Wesley's sigh from all the way across the room, even without enhanced vampire hearing.
"What do you want, Angel?" he heard Wesley ask impatiently. "Can we not do this a third time?"
"I, um, came to ask you to come back, actually," Angel said, and looked anything but happy to be saying those words, especially in front of Spike.
Wesley let out a short, incredulous laugh. "You can't be serious," he said.
"We are," Angel said, and yeah, he looked serious. "We need you to lead us. I'm no good at it, even I know that now, and none of the others can take your place."
Spike desperately wanted to say something along the lines of Angel not being good at anything, but after seeing the wondering look on Wesley's face, he decided that his help probably wasn't wanted at the moment.
"I will… consider it," Wesley said slowly. "I think it's something that I can't really decide on the spur of the moment."
Angel looked disappointed, but nodded his head in understanding. "Just…" He paused, looked unsure, and finally said, "We really want you back, Wes," and fled.
Wesley slowly shut the door, then leaned back against it, his expression carefully blank. "That was… unexpected," he said slowly. "I thought that they-"
"Would hate you till the end of time?" Spike supplied helpfully. "Nah. They love you too much. Even the fair Cordelia's right protective of you- gave me the evil eye when she shook my hand that time. Charlie-boy wants you safe and in his bed, and Angel's just a sodding mother hen with fangs."
"Thank you for that charming image," Wesley said dryly, but the tension had leached out of his tall frame. He frowned, suddenly, and said, "I'm not sure you're entirely correct about Gunn, however. Certainly he once wanted that, but in Pylea, just before Angel left, there was an… incident. A band of rebels asked me to lead them against their oppressors, and I was forced to use a small group as a distraction, which was tantamount to sending them to their deaths. Gunn didn't deal well with the reality of that, and things have been somewhat awkward between us ever since."
"That's as may be, pet," Spike said, "but he still wants you. 'Course, he can't have you, 'cause you're mine, but that doesn't make a damn bit of difference to the wanting. He's probably sittin' around, wishing he'd said something earlier, 'cause now he doesn't have a chance. An' he's gonna hate me, and hate himself, and try to make it up to you by pretending he's not upset, an' first chance he gets he'll talk himself into falling for some girl who'll be just like you, and the whole damn time he'll tell himself that it's not got a copper bit's worth of anything to do with you."
"You're quite alarming, you know that?" Wesley said mildly. "You somehow came up with all that from about ten minutes of contact with the man. Someday I'd love to hear what you think about Cordelia, or, dare I say it, Angel."
"I've got lots to say about Angel," Spike promised, "but for now I've got something better in mind."
"Of course you do," Wesley said, and smiled the happiest smile Spike had seen in days.
Wesley's return to Angel Investigations was considerably less dramatic than he'd expected, all things considered. He came in late the next morning, without bothering to call and warn them first, so he was able to enjoy the look of surprise that was mirrored on all three faces.
Gunn was the first to move. He stepped forward hesitantly, raised one hand, then dropped it as if he wasn't sure what he wanted to do with it. He shuffled his feet, rubbed the back of his neck, and finally said, "Guess who you're fucking isn't any business of mine," and took another step closer so he could give Wesley a manly, back-slapping hug.
Then Gunn was stepping back and it was Angel's turn, and he didn't look happy to be doing this at all. "Sorry I broke your door?" he offered halfheartedly. Wes just looked at him, and he sighed and added, "And sorry for yelling at you." He shook Wesley's hand- no way were they comfortable enough to hug- then said quickly, "But I'm not sorry for yelling and Spike," and ducking away to let Cordy have her say.
Cordelia just tapped the toe of one stylish hell and arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure as hell not apologizing," she said tartly. "I don't like Spike. I pretty much think you're a moron for sleeping with him, much less for letting him move in. But I also think it's your choice, and Angel seems pretty confident that Spike has no immediate plans to kill you or anything, so I'm just gonna say welcome back, and if you die I'm gonna follow you into Hell to say 'I told you so.' Are we clear?"
"We're clear," Wesley said.
"Good," she said, and hugged him tightly. "Now go look at the case files," she ordered when he stepped back. "You know none of us can read half your books."
"Yes, ma'am," he said, and tipped an imaginary hat before walking into his office with a smile on his face.
"Good morning," Wesley said as he came through the door, and was greeted by halfhearted waves from Cordelia and a half-asleep Angel, and a warm smile from Gunn. He poured himself a pot of Cordelia's extremely strong coffee, then grabbed the file she handed him and wandered back into his office, which no one had quite taken over in his absence.
Less than an hour later, he heard the clank of the elevator coming up from the basement, and came out to lean against the doorway and watch the show.
Spike burst out of the elevator as soon as the door opened, a solid mass of vibrating energy and cool control. Wesley laughed out loud as the look on Angel's face, and the older vampire turned angrily towards him.
"You invited him here?"
"Of course not," Wesley said self-righteously. "It was his idea."
"Yeah, and you weren't exactly tellin' me no," Spike pointed out, from behind Angel's intimidating bulk. "Think your words were, 'Why not?' before you bloody well scarpered without even a kiss goodbye."
Both Wesley and Angel opened their mouths to give a sharp retort, but before either could give them voice, there was a crash as some sort of large, black, blobby thing charged through the window. It stood on their lobby floor, waving all twelve tentacles, then opened something that Wesley could only assume was its mouth and let out a godawful shriek.
Everyone winced and covered their ears, but Spike was the one who recovered enough to grab the axe lying on the counter and attack the blobby thing with a snarl and a grin. Wesley watched him and he ducked and dodged and lopped off tentacles, avoiding the random beams of sunlight from the shattered and formerly covered window. One last swing took off the thing's… head?... and he set the axe head against the floor and leaned on it, watching with interest as the head rolled across the floor and halted right at the toes of Angel's black boots.
Angel grimaced and took a step back, eyeing the oozing head with disgust, and the look on his face didn't change much when he glanced up at Spike. Of course, the disgust was probably self-directed, since the next words out of his mouth were, "Spike, would you like a job?"
Spike just shrugged, pulled out a cigarette and lighter, and lit it. He took a deep drag, exhaled with quiet enjoyment, then said, "Sure, why not?"
And that's how Spike became a member of Angel Investigations.