Chapter 9
Winning Over Wesley
A/N: Do ya'll know how to play "What's the Time Mr Wolf?" One person stands at one end of a field, and every else calls out to them "What's the time Mr Wolf." Then they decide it's like 3 O'clock, and everyone has to take three big steps forward. Eventually, once you get close to the wolf, they say it's "Dinner Time" and chase everyone back to the starting line. Who ever they catch becomes the wolf next time. We play that all the time in sport, it's kinda funny seeing 22 teenage girls running and squealing as they play children's games. That's us all over.
Ah, but on the actually important notes... This chappie a bit of light is shed on Tilly's past, but not all of it. Beh, It might all be explained by the end ) Plus, for those of you who like Fred and Wes (which is me for sure) cuteness in this chappie!
E/N: What's the Time Mr. Wolf is awesome-ness on a stick.
A sound disrupted the cosy quiet of the world; the low bubble of a phone ringing. Wesley heard it first. He sat up slowly and reached for his glasses on the bedside table. Beside him Fred began to stir but he shushed her, mumbling that he would get the phone and that she should go back to sleep. Within moments the physicist could be heard snoring again. Dragging his feet across the room Wesley ambled towards the phone, knocking into a table and almost toppling a pile of books off it. He reached the phone too late however as about a meter away he heard the answering machine pick up the call.
"Hi, this is Winifred." He heard Fred's recorded voice say, "and Wesley's around here somewhere."
His own voice on the tape called from the back ground, "Did you say something?"
"You can tell he's paying attention." She laughed, "We didn't pick up the phone, we're probably out. Leave us a message and we'll get back to you ASAP ok? If this is a life or death situation... um, oops? We'll help next time... Oh and wait for the beep..."
Wesley tuned out as the caller, Fred's lab assistant, started to apologise for calling so early and began talking science to the machine. This was the first time he had heard the answering machine message. Fred had made a new one a while ago but, as was apparent, he hadn't paid much attention to it. Wesley was surprised to find that he wasn't actually surprised his name was on the recorded message too, his voice even. Just another little thing tying him to this house, his home of late. He had his own apartment, but he didn't go there much anymore. Any one who wanted to find him called Fred's place, because that's where he lived really.
Looking around the room he realised most of his stuff was here. A couple of his shirts were folded neatly on the couch having just been washed, his shoes and umbrella where next to the door. In the kitchen, next to Fred's instant coffee were his staple brand of tea and two of the three cups he liked his tea in. The other cup was in the bedroom where he had tea the night before last. He realised he also had two of his own draws in the dresser, full of his clothes. It hadn't been a conscious thing, he'd just needed a place to put his stuff, but now he had dresser draws. The bathroom was full of his things too; on the edge of the sink where two tooth brushes, green for Wesley and purple for Fred.
Quite by accident Wesley had moved in.
A shuffling from the bedroom caught his attention; Fred was up. Still obviously half asleep, rubbing her eyes and patting her puffy hair. A broad smile spread across Wesley's face, "You're so beautiful." He sighed.
Fred smiled wearily. "That's nice." She shuffled over to him and rested her head on his shoulder, "Why are we awake?"
Wesley put an arm around the slender woman, "There was a phone call. Nothing important."
"It is over now?" Fred asked.
"Yes."
"Oh good." She said, "Time for sleep now."
Wesley patted her hair fondly. She was beautiful, he thought, and smart and brave and kind and obviously very sleepy. He wondered how he had lived without her, and he didn't think he could do it again. Fred made home worth coming home to. "Is it alright if I live here?" he asked.
Fred made the extra effort to open her eyes and focus on the man beside her, "Are you kidding?"
Wesley felt slightly worried, "No, I'm not."
She closed her eyes and hugged him close, "Of corse you can live here. I thought you did already."
Wesley kissed her hair, "Thank you."
"Now is it time for sleep?"
"Yes, it is."
"Oh my gawd!" Fred squealed, "You look so darn cute!" The recipient of her compliment was the little vampire child Spike, who smiled bashfully at her squeals. "Turn around again." She instructed. He obeyed, turning around for his adopted aunt. The purpose of this strange instruction was to show of the new clothes Fred had bought for Spike. And he did look darling. Gone were the little beige khakis, replaced by dark black jeans to match his black cotton top. Over that he wore an open red shirt, the sleeves rolled menacingly up, and the newest addition to his outfit, a black leather duster. He was lamb dressed up as big bad ram, sporting the red and black evil ware he had worn as a violent rebel vampire, only in miniature now. Fred thought he looked gorgeous.
"Do you think that's a good idea?" Angel asked Fred as she ordered Spike to strike a fighting pose, "those are ... his evil clothes. Won't they make him evil?"
Fred laughed, "They're just clothes! Plus, he looks so cute. I don't know why we didn't dress him up before." Fred's face lit up, "Oh my gawd! We have a little kid! We can dress him up in super hero costumes, or make him a pirate or a cowboy! This is so exciting!"
Angel put a hand over his eyes, "Why do we have to dress him up?"
"Because it's "cute" Angel." Wesley answered, only a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Exactly." Fred replied. "Don't you want to see him dressed up as batman?"
"Not really." Angel said, but Fred wasn't listening.
"You'll be so cute! We could have a costume party or something."
Spike grinned and jumped into her arms, "Aun'y Fred, you have the best ideas."
"How about we don't have a party." Angel suggested. "Is that a good idea?"
"No." Spike replied. "That's a stupid idea."
Wesley laughed quietly, earning a reproachful glare from Angel and a beaming smile from Fred. He liked the second more, and smiled back.
Angel, feeling out numbered and grumpy decided to distract the ex watcher, and pulled him away from the happy pair playing dress up. "Listen Wes." He said, "Can we look up containment files? Like why creatures, or people, are kept here?"
Wesley nodded, "Certainly. Containment has a very extensive archive, they keep almost day by day records and notes on subjects for almost 50 years, and general subject files go back four hundred years. After that they're in the main archives, and harder to find."
"I don't think we'll have to go back very far." Angel said. "I'm looking for something in the last six years, a little girl-"
"Matilda." Wesley guessed, "The girl Spike's taken a shine to."
"Yeah," Angel said, "She seems to live in containment, and I don't think she's really allowed out. Seems harmless, but you never know. I mean, what kind of kid would live in this place?"
"A demon child" Wesley confirmed, "I'll check it out."
"Thanks." Angel said, "I wouldn't want Spike hanging around with the wrong crowd." He stoped himself, "Ok, that was weird and fatherly."
Wesley looked over at Fred and Spike who were playing "What's the Time Mr Wolf?" She looked so happy, eyes closed, calling out the time and waiting for Spike to step closer. "What's the time Mr Wolf?" Spike giggled.
Fred paused, a wicked smile on her face and replied, "It's...dinner time!" Spike squealed and ran away as she charged after him, catching him around the waist and hoisting him into the air. "Got you, got you!" She cried triumphantly.
"Aww Aun'y Fred, you're too good at this game." Spike lamented as he took his place as the wolf.
"She's wonderful isn't she?" Wesley mused adoringly, "With children." He added. Angel didn't look nearly so adoring of Fred, which was probably a good thing Wesley decided, but in any case it was time for a change of subject. Maybe it was time for the awkward subject. He took a deep breath, readying himself, "I went to see Dr Mordred last week," Wesley admitted, "He told me how to make Spike an adult again."
Angel looked shocked, almost like he'd forgotten Spike was supposed to be big. "Oh, how?"
"Spike's "emotional trauma" centres on his father, and a fear of abandonment attached to that." The ex watcher elaborated, "He needs his father's love to grow up again."
Angel furrowed his brow, "But, his father's dead."
Wesley shuffled uncomfortably, "You're his grandsire correct? You sired the vampire who turned him." Angel nodded, "Vampire's sort of raise their children do they not?"
"Proper vampire's do." Angel said with a touch of pride, "I always looked after Darla and Dru."
"Did Drusilla raise Spike?" Wesley asked.
"No..." Angel said, "Dru didn't really have the sense to guide him. So I had to teach him how to hunt and feed."
"Then you would have been like his father then." Wesley said.
Angel suddenly realised where Wesley had been going with these odd questions. "Wes, I never loved Spike, even as a vampire. Not like I loved Dru and Darla." He winced at the unintentional double meaning but Wesley over looked it.
"I think that's probably part of the problem." The watcher replied. "Then when you got your soul-"
"I abandoned him and Dru." Angel said, realising how he must have hurt his child Drusilla, and Spike too. "So... I'm the one Spike has issues with. Great."
"At least we know how to cure him." Wesley reminded Angel.
"Yeah," he said, "I have to love him."
"But then Ash, he pulled out Charazard, and Charazard doesn't usually listen to Ash and everyone usually gets fried, so I thought he was gonna get fried, but then Charazard listened for once and he KOed Joltion. It was so so so cool." Wesley rubbed his head wishing the annoying buzzing in his ears would go away. The source of the endless buzzing was of course little Spike, enthusiastically recounting the entire history of a children's show called "Pokémon." Who ever invented that show must have been an awful evil demon. "But when the trainer brought out his next pokémon, Nidoran, Charazard went to sleep! So, Ash brought out Bulbasaur-"
"Is Poker-Mon on now Spike?" Wesley asked tersely. "Because there's a TV in the other room, and you can go watch it if you want."
"No, Pokémon is only on at four and six. Oh and seven on Sundays." Spike said. "Now it's Dexter's Lab, and that sucks."
Wesley briefly wondered weather Spike had memorised the TV guide, then realised he had better things to be thinking about. God, Spike was such a distraction. Silently cursing the child on two accounts Wesley turned back to his work. The computer pinged as the results of his search arrived; the containment file record. "Matilda Goldberg." He read.
"Matilda?" Spike perked up at the mention of his friends name, "What about Tilly?" He hoped onto Wesley's lap, surprising the ex watcher. Wesley was not used to children or being sat on.
"Uh, yes it is about Matilda." Wesley scanned the document, taking note of the important stats. "Shadow Dweller?" He read aloud. "No wonder she's in containment."
Spike peered at the document too. "I can read this." He said pointing to the screen.
Wesley looked at the line to which Spike was indicating, "Considered inadvertently dangerous. No intent toward evil." Wesley read aloud.
"No," Spike shook his head, "This bit says "Matilda is Spike's best friend.""
Wesley felt an unexpected smile spread across his face. "You're getting pretty good at reading." He said.
"Yeah. Harmony had me read over some big important files the other day. Wanted me to sign stuff." Spike puffed out his chest, "Stuff she could only trust me with."
Wesley put Spike down on the floor again, "Tell me about Matilda, Spike." He instructed, "What's she like?"
Spike clambered onto the chair on the opposite side of the desk. "Fun." He decided, "She knows lots of cool games. We fight ninja's together sometimes."
"Is she afraid of anything?" Wesley asked.
"No." Spike defended his friend, "Well yeah. She doesn't like shadows. She walks around them, and she won't play hide and seek."
"That's kind of weird." Wesley said.
Spike shrugged, "Maybe, but I don't go out in the sunshine and I can't look in the mirror 'cause my reflection disappeared. Tilly can be afraid of shadows if she likes."
"I think that's a very good approach." Wesley said. Spike really was a remarkably well adjusted and kind child, he mused. Why was the grown-up version such a pain?
"What else does it say about Tilly?" Spike asked eagerly.
"It says she can see extra well, sometimes even see things that others don't see at all." Wesley paraphrased.
"I know." Spike said, "She sees people hiding behind doors and bad things in the mirror. And..." Spike looked uncomfortable, "Sometimes she sees my other friends. The ones I don't like."
Wesley looked confused, "What other friends?"
Spike got of his seat and walked over to the window, "I think I'm gonna play a game." He said. "You're boring."
Wesley sighed, slightly offended "Well, ok then." He went back to his research, copying the file on Matilda Goldberg to send to Angel. "Not that boring." He mutterd. "I'm more interesting than Poker-Mon surely." Concentrating on Tilly's file again, he read the first line quietly to himself, "Committed by her parents at age two." She never had a family at all. No friends either, because there where no other children in Wolfram and Heart to befriend. Until Spike came. It was something of a miracle perhaps that the only two children in the evil law firm had found each other. But then children were like that, miraculous.
"I'm going to be a doctor." Spike announced after a while.
Wesley looked up, surprised by the outburst. "Why?"
"Doctors are nice. Tasty. Don't put up much of a fight." He said.
Wesley's blood ran cold. "What did you just say?"
"Doctors are nice." Spike clarified, "and helpful. They make sick people alright." Wesley didn't know whether to trust his ears. Had Spike just referred to doctors as "tasty"? Was the little vamp, a little evil vamp? Perhaps it was lack of sleep playing tricks on Wesley's mind. "Doctors are heroes aren't they?"
"Yes," Wesley pushed the thoughts away and concentrated on Spike's real words, "Some people see them as heroes."
"They save lives," Spike continued, "and they wear cool coats."
"It's hard work being a doctor." Wesley reminded the child.
Spike thought about this, "But all the best things are hard aren't they?" he mused. "And I'd be a hero, and make people feel all good again. It's decided; I'm going to be a doctor."
Wesley felt something shift in his chest, a weight gone from his shoulders or a barrier collapsed in his mind. He lent down to Spike's level and before he could think about it he was admitting "I wanted to be a fireman, when I was little."
"Firemen are cool too." Spike said, "They wear cool coats. They save people from burning, which is good. Burning is awful painful I think."
"Firemen are brave." Wesley said, "They go charging into fires and they aren't scared. All that matters is putting out the fire and saving the people. Nothing can beat a fireman, nothing frightens him, no one can boss him around or make him miserable." Wesley remembered well why he had wanted to be a fireman as a child. If he was brave, and could fight fires and save people, he could stand up to his father and he wouldn't be afraid anymore. "Firemen are brave and heroic. That's why I wanted to be one." He smiled at Spike, "Plus, I liked their red hats. They look cool."
"Why didn't you be a fireman then?" Spike asked.
"I don't think my father would have liked that." Wesley said, "Plus, I was never brave enough to fight fires. I'm better at reading big books."
"Don't you want to be a hero?" Spike asked.
"Sometimes." Wesley admitted, "Not everyone can be a hero. I don't think I was made for the job. I tried, but...Well," he sighed, "I tried."
"Aun'y Fred says you're a hero." Spike said. "She says a lot of nice things about you. But once we were talking about knights, and she said you were a white knight, and her hero."
Wesley smiled a small warm smile at the child, "Isn't that nice of her to say."
"Well I said she should get over you already." Spike said, "It's gross the way she talks."
Wesley laughed. "Weren't you going to be a doctor?" Wesley prompted.
"Weren't you going to be a fireman?"
"Touché Spike," Wesley laughed.
"What are you doing?" Wesley asked nervously as the child cambered onto the table.
Spike pulled something over Wesley's head, and the ex watcher had the worrying feeling he was about to be embarrassed. "Ok, open your eyes." Wesley slowly did as he was told, apprehensively trying to see what Spike had given him. "It's a fireman's hat." Spike said.
Wesley reached up and carefully pulled the folded paper hat of his head. It was more of a box shape than a hat shape and the edges were only just folded together. Spike had coloured it red with a biro, and there where lots of white gaps. "Well? What do you think?"
The ex watcher smiled at the scruffy gift, feeling very proud and honoured to have been given such a thing. "Spike," he said carefully, "I can honestly say, this is the best fireman's hat I have ever been given."