Chapter 2
Things Catch Fire
A/N: Yay! Chapter two! Sorry it's taken so long folks… I really have no time on my hands these days!
There's a bit more of an exploration of the growing Tilly, Fred and Wes dynamic in this chapter- and some Fred/Wes fluff (for those of you who, like me, love seeing those two happy together).
You'll also see Gunn and Lorne in this chapter. I hope to include them both in this fic (much more so than I did in my last fic) though they're not my forte characters, so any comments on them would be great.
I got some really great reviews for last chapter! I'm incredibly proud and happy, so thank you all so much. I'm sorry I didn't get to reply to all of you. School work is majorly getting in the way; I will endeavour to reply to all my reviews for this chapter
It happened suddenly. After almost two hours unconscious in the hospital, quite unexpectedly, Spike began to change.
Angel had carried Spike's body down to the hospital. The doctors laid him out in bed and rushed to take blood samples and run tests. Two hours later they had no answers. No one knew what was happening to Spike; no one knew when he would wake up. Angel silently wondered if he would wake up at all. Dr Mordred was a powerful demon, with many talents- the least of which was the ability to reverse age. Exactly what he had done to Spike, Angel didn't know.
He sat waiting silently by Spike's bed. In the very same chair he had sat in the first time Spike had encountered Dr Mordred. Spike didn't move, he didn't breathe, he was still as the dead.
"I know you've been through this before," A doctor had said to Angel, "So you'll have a better idea of what's going on. Spike's body has gone into a rested state, while it prepares to change. We don't know how much his body is going to change, so we don't know how long he'll be comatose." The Doctor looked hard at Angel, emphasising the seriousness of his words, "The procedure done on Spike…. It might be more serious then last time. He might be reversed completely, into non existence." The doctor need not have glared so hard, Angel knew well how serious this was.
Angel watched as the minutes fell away, but Spike stayed motionless.
Then, very suddenly, he began to change. As Angel watched, Spike's limbs went ridged; his eyelids snapped open- the whites visible as his eyes rolled back in his head. His mouth opened, emitting a short gasping cough. He began to shake, and as he did, he began to shrink. His arms and legs got thinner, his face younger, his skin seemed to ripple as the cells rearranged themselves. Then, suddenly as it started, it stopped. Spike fell still.
Angel stared at the again unconscious Spike. He wasn't the same man he had been moments before. He was younger, thinner, frailer looking. Angel judged he was about 15 years old, just on the cusp of mid teens.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Spike was ok. He was younger, he was different, but he was still here. Angel let himself relax for a moment, before the reality of Spike's condition set in. But all too soon, the relief went away, and was replaced by dread.
A teenager. The most turbulent troublesome age imaginable. Angry, rebellious, into rock music. Angel couldn't think of a more unstable or irresponsible age. Spike as an adult was bad enough, as a teenager, he would be insufferable. If Dr Mordred had intended to create trouble for Angel he had certainly succeeded. A terrible fear and dread began to press down on Angel's shoulders, as the enormity of Spike's new state fully hit him. He could feel a brood coming on.
Spike would probably sleep for a few more hours at least, so Angel decided to settle in and worry about this new problem. He was just furrowing his brow- when Spike moved. The teenage vampire snored like a wild pig and flopped over onto his front, where he slept peacefully again.
Angel couldn't help it. He smiled.
Miles away from the hospital wing of Wolfram and Hart, Winifred Burkle and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce were fast asleep.
Fred woke up with a start, to find herself being pleasantly crushed by Wes' arm. The scruffy ex-watcher was sleeping soundly, a possessive arm draped over the slender woman beside him. Fred snuggled closer into him as she gathered her thoughts.
She remembered bringing Tilly home for dinner, they had had tacos until Tilly and Fred were too full to think or move. The girls had curled up on the couch to watch "The Simpsons" re-runs on Fox (Fred was still finding episodes she has missed while stuck in Pylea) while Wesley had done the washing up. After that Fred couldn't remember anymore. She must have fallen asleep on the couch, and Wesley had carried her to bed. What had he done with Tilly, Fred wondered. Had he taken her back to Containment? Her heart did a little flip. Surely he wouldn't have taken her home so late…The thought of Tilly back in containment, so far away, made her uneasy somehow.
Her thoughts where interrupted by the low chirping of a telephone. Fred realised that was probably the sound that had disturbed her sleep.
She gently pulled Wesley's arm off her and slipped out of bed. She hurriedly shuffled out of the bedroom towards the lounge room, as the phone rang again. Turning on the light, she saw a little figure curled up asleep on the couch. It was Tilly. Wesley had given her a pillow and a blanket, obviously after she and Fred both fell asleep on the couch. Fred smiled.
The phone rang again, and Tilly rolled over on the couch. Fred hurried to pick up the receiver before Tilly and Wesley woke up. "Hello," she whispered.
"Fred, it's Angel," Angel said.
"Angel?" Fred checked her watch, "It's 1am, what's up?"
"Oh, yeah sorry." Angel's voice was strained and unusually unsure. "I should have called earlier, or…later. I should have called, but I didn't want to leave him. He seems ok now, he's sleeping."
Fred tried in vain to make sense of the vampire's words, "Leave who? What's wrong? You're not making a heck of a lot of sense." Fred caught sight of a movement near the bedroom door as Wesley sleepily emerged. "Hold on," she said to Angel. She motioned for Wesley to come over, saying "It's Angel, something's happened. Something bad." Wes hurried over and put his ear next to Fred's so they could both hear what Angel was saying. "Ok, Angel." Fred said.
"It's Spike," Angel explained, "He's… we had a fight, and he stormed off. He was in trouble, by the time I got to him, it was too late."
"Too late for what?" Fred asked.
"To stop him." Angel said, "Dr Mordred. He got Spike again."
Fred gasped. "What?" She could feel her legs giving way underneath her as the enormity of this new trouble pressed down on her. She steadied herself on the coffee table. "H-how old is he?" she croaked.
"15 maybe, 16?" Angel guessed, "Older than… than before."
A noise from the couch distracted Fred and Wes; a soft mewing and rustling of covers, as Tilly woke up. She rubbed her eyes. "Mommy?" She asked sleepily.
Fred shakily handed the phone to Wesley and knelt down beside Tilly. "Tilly, honey, it's Aunty Fred."
"Oh," Tilly said sleepily, "what happening?"
"You fell asleep on the couch," Fred explained. She patted Tilly's hair soothingly as she spoke, "The phone call woke you up. You can go back to sleep."
Tilly smiled sleepily and rested her head back against the pillows. "Ok, if you say so." Fred smiled. Despite the rising panic in her chest, Tilly's face effortlessly warmed her heart. She leant over and kissed Tilly's forehead.
Wesley covered the mouth piece of the phone and turned to Fred, "You should go." He said. "I'll take care of Tilly, I'll take her home in the morning."
Fred stood up and kissed him, "Thank you." She said. "It's just, I wanna see if he's ok, or if there's anything I can do to help, and see… see him, you know."
"I know," Wesley said. "That's why I'm telling you to go. Spike and Angel need you."
Fred ran to the hurried to the kitchen counter and grabbed her keys. "I'll call when I know more," she said, hurrying back to give Wesley a kiss goodbye. She looked down at the rumpled clothes she fell asleep in, "is it ok to go in these clothes?" she asked. Wesley gave her a blank stare, "right, not important." She turned around to dash out the door.
Wesley caught her hand and pulled her back, "It's ok. Spike is going to be alright." He put his arms around her.
"I know," she said, hugging him back "I just hope Angel will be."
Fred ran into Gunn outside the door to Spike's room in the hospital wing.
"Wes called me," he said. "I thought I should come down."
Fred hugged him. "I'm glad you're here." She let him go, her worried face returning. "What should we do?"
"Take a deep breath and count to 'calm down', for a start, sweet-pea," Lorne said, coming up from behind Fred and Gunn. "You're aura is screaming inner turmoil, and it's giving me a headache."
Fred relaxed into a laugh, "Sorry, I'll try and keep my inner turmoil quiet."
Her laugh broke the tension a bit, and Gunn and Lorne smiled too, "Atta girl," Lorne said.
"Should we go in?" Gunn asked.
The three friends looked at the grey hospital door. Behind that door was a monster scarier than any they had ever faced before- a vampiric adolescent. Things were going to be strange, and confusing, and quite possibly painful. Spike's last regression had shaken things up for them- and they were afraid to go through it again. Having a child to care for, playing uncles and aunts to a little vampire, had affected them all. They where afraid to see Spike, see how he had changed, and how he would change them this time."I think we probably should," Fred said.
Fred, Gunn and Lorne stayed staring at the door. They looked nervously at each other, each hoping they wouldn't have to be the one to turn the door handle. "Yeah, ok," Gunn said uncertainly. He took a deep breath in, and opened the door.
He was greeted with absolute silence. Not a sound filled the room, not even the breathing of the two people inside it. Angel was seated in the chair beside the bed. He was looking intently at a young blond boy, still sleeping peacefully. It took a moment to register that the boy in the bed was Spike, he was so much younger and thinner. He looked fragile and innocent somehow, so unlike the boisterous badass vampire they were used to.
"Fred, Gunn, Lorne," Angel greeted them, looking up.
"Hey Angel," Gunn said.
Fred took a few sheepish steps towards Spike, "Is that him?" she asked.
"Yeah," Angel breathed. "He's been-" he paused, unsure of how to phrase Spike's condition "-this way- for the last forty minutes. He hasn't woken up yet. He's moved a few times, just turned over in his sleep."
"Whoa, this is weird," Gunn said.
"You can say that again," Lorne said, "I'm getting a distinctly sweet and innocent vibe, are you sure this is Spike?"
Angel sighed, "Pretty sure."
Fred walked to the opposite side of the bed from Angel. "Spike," she whispered, with a frightened tremor in her voice.
Spike rolled over in bed, mumbling a groan into his pillow. "What?" he asked.
All breaths in the room where caught, even Angel's. Spike was awake.
Still face down and curled up sleepily in bed, Spike asked again "What?" He rolled over and rubbed his eyes, "I'm bloody well awake now, so what do y- whoa," he opened his eyes, "Where the bloody hell am I?"
"In the hospital ward of Wolfram and Hart." Angel replied.
"O…k" Spike said.
"I'm Angel." Angel said.
"I know- kinda." Spike said, "my brains a little fuzzy at the moment."
"How do you feel?" Angel asked.
"Kinda…. scared," Spike decided, "and like I'm wearing a girl's nighty."
Angel sighed, "It's the hospital issue gown, Spike."
Spike raised an eyebrow suspiciously, "You didn't undress me did you?"
"No!" Angel said.
Spike turned around, "Oh hey, Aunty Fred." He smiled, "was it your lovely voice that woke me up?"
Fred beamed back, "Yes- I mean, no! I mean- I didn't mean to wake you. Sorry."
"S'all right." he said, "was it you that undressed me?" He asked cheekily.
Gunn intervened before Fred could stammer out a denial, "I don't really think you should be implying things like that, Junior."
Spike glared, "I don't really think that's any of your business- anymore."
"Spike!" Angel growled.
"What, Angie?" He snapped back, "I wasn't talking to you."
"Guys, guys," Fred pleaded, "Don't fight about it, please."
Spike growled, but dropped the subject. "Well, what happened to me anyway?"
"You where attacked." Angel explained, calming down, "By Dr Mordred. He injected you with something, to make you younger."
Spike furrowed his brow, "No, he was trying to kill me." He said. The others looked shocked, "I don't remember it all, it's kinda hazy, but he said he was going to 'reverse me completely'. That means he was trying to kill me doesn't it."
"Sounds like it." Gunn said darkly.
"But why?" Lorne asked. "I mean, I'm sure you get a lot of attempted murders in your line of work, but was there a specific reason or just general homicidal tendencies."
"A prophecy," Spike said. "Or something like that. He said there was some prophecy, and so he had to kill me."
"What prophecy?" Angel asked.
Spike glared at the older vampire, "I said it was fuzzy. Give a bloody man some credit, I was just almost killed. So what happens now?" He asked, "Do we track down the bad guy and beat him up?"
Angel shifted nervously in his chair, "I um… already did that. When you were attacked, I found him on top of you. He's still out."
Fred gasped, "Wh-"
Angel shook his head. "Later." He said.
Spike looked put out that he didn't get to beat anyone up. "Well, can I go then?" He sighed.
"The doctors said you're fine, just a little younger then before," Angel began.
"Great!" Spike said, jumping out of bed, "Can someone give me my pants?" He saw the required clothing folded at the end of the bed, "ah, great." He pulled them on under his hospital gown and began to buckle them up. "Well, be seeing you." he said.
"Where do you think you're going?" Angel asked.
Spike pulled off his hospital gown and threw it at Angel. "Home, to my place. I wanna watch some TV. You said I wasn't sick."
Fred furrowed her brow saying quietly, "Home? Without a shirt… or underpants?"
Angel grabbed Spike's arm. "Oh no you don't! You're not going anywhere."
Spike pulled his arm free of Angel's hold, "Yeah I am- I just said I was going home."
"You're coming home with me." Angel said firmly.
"Yeah right, sicko," Spike said, "I don't want to play happy families again."
"You don't have a choice," Angel said, "You're too young to live on your own. I'm your legal guardian."
"Nuh-uh," Spike argued, "I'm one hundred and twenty years old. I don't need a guardian."
"Spike!" Angel yelled.
"Whoa," Lorne said, stumbling back, "talk about powerful vibes. Maybe we should all calm down and talk about this over a sea breeze- and a virgin mary for the little one."
"I'm not little!" Spike snapped, "I can take care of myself- I don't want your help, I don't want your opinion, and I don't want your kiddie cocktails. Bugger off, the lot of you!"
"Spike," Fred pleaded, "Don't run away."
"I'm not running away, Aun'y Fred," He said, in a falsely calm tone "I'm going back to my place, to have a drink and watch some TV- I don't need my stand-in-mummy to make me a bottle." He walked out the door, calling over his shoulder, "Later."
Angel was livid, "Spike!" He yelled, "Spike, come back here!" Spike didn't hear, or didn't care. The door snapped shut behind him.
"Angel, don't yell like that," Gunn advised, "I was a rebel kid once- a lot more recently then you were- trust me, orders and authority, not what Spike wants."
"I don't care what he wants!" Angel said. "I'm the adult, I make the rules."
"That's what I'm saying," Gunn said, "You're not going to win him over with that attitude."
"Maybe we should give him some space," Fred said.
"Or some heavy metal music," Lorne said, "that boy is a ticking time bomb of teen angst."
Angel flopped down into the chair, "What if he gets hurt."
"He is a vampire," Gunn said, "He can take care of himself."
"No he can't," Angel said, "He's a kid."
"He's a teenager," Gunn corrected, "And the last thing he wants to hear is that he can't hold his own."
Angel sighed. "Alright, alright, I see your point." He glared darkly at the floor, "This is not how I wanted this to go. I don't want him to be on his own, I want to make sure he's ok."
"He's almost an adult," Lorne said, "he was an adult a few hours ago. It's not six year old Spike again Angel, it's sixteen year old Spike. You can't molly-coddle him."
Angel continued to glare darkly at the floor. "Give him a while to cool down Angel." Gunn said.
"We can go check on him at dusk tomorrow," Fred said.
Angel suddenly looked up, "Do you think he knows not to go out in the daylight?" he asked.
"Sure," Fred said, "He's a sensible boy." Her companions looked uncertain, "ok, so he's not… but he's not reckless… or, he is a little."
Gunn, Lorne and Angel looked dubious. "Well," Gunn ventured, "if he goes out in the sunlight, and starts to burn, he'll go back inside. It's learning from experience."
"Great," Angel sighed, "Just great."
It took Spike almost twenty minutes to find his way back to his apartment, even thought it was barely minutes from Wolfram and Hart. His memories were jumbled and fuzzy. He felt like parts of his mind where editing them selves out, and he had an angry feeling the first to go were the sexy bits. "Bloody self censoring mind." He grumbled.
He had eventually remembered where he lived, though this had been especially hard as he remembered having lived on several continents. It was hard to discern which "home" in his memories his current home was; he was almost surprised to find the high rise apartment in L.A. city proper was his "home" now.
When he reached his apartment, he realised he'd left his duster in the hospital, with his shirt. He growled. His keys were in the pocket.
It took him a few minutes of pointlessly shaking the doorknob, before Spike remembered he was a vampire. His foggy memory the way it was, he wasn't quite sure what it meant to be a vampire. There where definitely some vampire things he didn't want to think about right now - like killing, and drinking blood. What he did remember about being a vampire was that he was super strong. Strong enough to kick down a door.
The door flew across the apartment at the impact of Spike's super strength foot. Spike followed the door inside, and surveyed his apparent. It was plain and grey. The furniture was standard issue, thin and modern. Spike noticed with approval, the large flat screen TV in the lounge room. That at least was a good thing.
It wasn't a very nice place, Spike decided. It was too plain and sterile- where was the class, where was the coolness? "Tell me I have a CD player," He begged no one in particular, "give me that at least."
There was a CD player, Spike saw with relief, on the middle shelf of the bookcase. Spike rushed over to check out his CD's. He flipped through a couple, looking disgusted with his taste. He paused, and held up 'The Greatest Hits of Queen'. It wasn't what he wanted, but at leas it was rock. He slid the CD into the player, and cranked the volume up to full blast. The sound system was fantastic, Spike noticed approvingly; the heavy first beats of "We Will Rock You" shook the walls.
Spike stamped along with the rhythm, on his way to the fridge. He could smell something good in the kitchen. He found the fridge very well stoked, considering a vampire's normal feeding habits. There was salsa, and left over chicken wings, and other solid food type things. Several bottles of dark red liquid caught his attention, and he pulled one out. Uncorking it, he took a sniff. It smelt like blood.
Spike recoiled. The smell was enticing, and that frightened him a little. He knew there was something kinda sick about drinking blood. But he wanted it.
Looking back into the fridge, Spike saw, on the self below the blood, a large collection of beer bottles. "Beer!" He cried in glee. "Oh God yes beer." Taking a beer in one hand, and the blood in the other, Spike found himself a glass and began to pour. The two liquids mixed into a strange dark red bubbly mess.
Spike took a tentative sip. It was wonderful.
He traipsed back to the lounge room, singing alone loudly with the music, "We will, we will, rock you!" He set his glass of blood-beer down on a table, and jumped on the couch, air guitaring the solo.
As he jumped off the couch, he spied something on the bookshelf above the CD player. It was a packet of cigarettes. Spike's eyes lit up, "Hell yes!" He cried. With vampire swiftness, he rushed at the cigarettes and pulled one out. There was no lighter on the bookshelf, so Spike sauntered back into the kitchen, still singing to himself. He found a lighter in the drawer, and lit up. It was heavenly.
Cigarette in one hand, blood-beer in the other, Spike danced angrily around his room, rocking out to the classic Queen ballad. He stamped unceremoniously on the furniture, and kicked at the shelves, delighting in the thud as books and possessions fell to the floor. In a black cabinet near the door, Spike found several bottles of whiskey, rum and gin. He pulled them all out, and added a dash or two to his drink. It tasted horrible, but very alcoholic.
He laughed groggily as the alcohol began to take affect. "Can't take care of myself?" He said, "look at me go. I'm taking good… good care of Spike." He fell backwards onto the couch, knocking over a bottle of rum, which spilt all over the floor. "whoops," He giggled "not taking good care of the rum." His cigarette was almost burn down to the orange filter, so he pulled out another one, flicking the butt at the floor.
As luck would have it, the still smouldering cigarette flew straight onto the carpet, where the rum had already spilt. In seconds the puddle of liquor caught fire. The fire spread across the carpet, to the near by bookshelf, licking dangerously at the books. Spike didn't notice the fire at first, he was too busy drinking and smoking on the couch. The song had changed, and as the fire began to burn the few books on the bottom shelf, he sang loudly, "We are the champions, my friends." The fire took hold of the first shelf, igniting the books, "and we'll keep on fighting,- till the end."
From the corner of his eye, Spike saw the flames, and jumped up in panic. "Holy shit." He swore. His previous drunken state quickly disappeared in the face of this new danger. The house was on fire. He looked around for something to put it out with. Water. The Kitchen.
It took the agile young vampire just two bounds to reach the sink. He grabbed a nearby bowl, and threw it under the tap. Even with the tap on full blast, it took a few seconds for the bowl to fill. Spike hoped from foot to foot, whispering "Hurry up, hurry up!" when it was nearly full, Spike wrenched it away, sloshing water down his front. He ran back to the fire and threw the water on it. A small area of the fire, still on the carpet, fizzled and went out. The whole book case was still alight, and it was starting to spread to the other furnature.
Spike saw how pointless his effort had been. He couldn't possibly put the fire out with water. He thought about getting a blanket, but the fire was spreading too quickly. "Bloody hell," He cried angrily, "you'd think a vampire's house would be a little less flammable!" There was no hope of putting the fire out now. He would have to call someone. He grabbed the phone, trying to remember the emergency number. "999 is England," he mumbled, "113 is Italy… God damn it, what's the bloody number?" he looked at the phone, and found the obvious answer. On speed dial, the first number was Angel's.
Spike growled. He couldn't call Angel- that would be like admitting defeat. If Angel knew Spike had set the house on fire, he would definitely not let Spike look after himself. "I will not call Angel!" Spike decided. There was a loud bang, as the flames found their way inside one of the open whiskey bottles, setting the liquor ablaze and shattering the bottle. Spike pressed the speed dial button for Angel.
Angel picked up after just one ring. "Spike?" he asked.
"Hey Angel," Spike said calmly.
"Where are you!" Angel barked.
"At home," Spike assured him, "My apartment. Look, I called because I've got a bit of a problem. The house in on fire."
There was two seconds of stunned silence before Angel exploded. "It's what!" he yelled.
"Love to stay and chat," Spike interrupted, "but I have to get out before I start to burn." He hung up on Angel, and ran for the door.
"Tell me what happened." Angel said. He and Spike where sitting in the hospital for the second time that day. Spike had been checked over by the nurses for any injuries, but he'd been given a clean bill of health. Barely a minute after Spike had called Angel, an emergency crew from Wolfram and Hart had arrived at the fire. They had put out the blaze, and saved as much as possible. Then, on Angel's orders, they took Spike back to the hospital, where Angel was waiting.
"I don't know what happened," Spike said grumpily, "I was just having a drink and a smoke, listening to some Queen-"
"You were doing what!" Angel roared.
"Listening to Queen," Spike said cheekily.
"Don't play games with me, Spike." Angel said. "Drinking? Smoking? Don't you know how bad that is?"
Spike scoffed, "I'm already dead, Angie-pants, it can't make me deader."
"You could have been hurt in that fire." Angel said, "Vampire's don't kill easily, but fire would dust you, Spike. How could you have been so stupid?"
"Look, I'm sorry," Spike said, "But it won't happen again."
"I know it won't," Angel said, "Because you're coming to live with me." Spike began to protest, but Angel cut him off. "No Spike, I don't want to hear it. You had your chance, and you screwed it up." He threw Spike's shirt and duster at him, "get dressed. We're going home."