Bright Lights
By: Peanutbutter
Chapter 6 '
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"What do we do?"
Spike patted his pockets as he paced the room wishing that he had had the mind set to roll some cigarettes before he'd come into Trenton's room, but then again how was he supposed to know that this was going to happen. "I don't know," Spike shook his head and continued to pace his dark blond locks falling from behind his ears and around his face.
"Are you sure it's her?"
"Not only does she look like 'er," Spike mumbled, "but the way she hissed my name is a dead give away. The stupid bint never did like me."
"In her defense," Mika said smiling slightly, "you were evil."
Spike stopped pacing and gave her a look, "Not really the point kitten. She's the only one who would fight now ask questions later, always thought she was a little thick in the head." He swirled his finger around his temple and started pacing again.
"Do we tell Angel?"
Spike stopped again and shook his head vehemently, "I think you're insane. That's that last thing we do, pet. We figure this out 'fore we even think about bringin' the poofter in on it."
Mika crinkled her brow, "since when did he become the poofter again."
"Since this mornin'," Spike commented slowly. "Look we'll just keep it a secret long enough to figure out what she's about. If it ain't really Buffy we just kill 'er real quick and be done with it." Spike growled. "The wanker should have known better than to bring that 'ere."
"He found her fighting some, um, Farlocs, two full grown ones." Mika swallowed, "and her injuries have been healing really fast."
Spike rubbed his jaw, "well I knew she had the strength that she showed pretty quick, but the healing too."
"You sure you don't want to tell Angel?"
"Do you think I'm a bloody moron? I can take care of this. You don't need to go running to Captain Forehead whenever something goes wrong."
"Captain Forehead," she snorted.
"Are you goin' to repeat everythin' I say?"
She laughed again, "If you keep saying silly things then yes I am."
He glared at her, "Ha ha bleedin' ha."
Mika shrugged and picked up some the glass that had shattered on the floor when 'Buffy' had woken. She'd been dreaming when she actually came around and from the way she was twisting and turning in her sleep it had been a pretty violent one at that. She'd reached out and grabbed the lamp and shattered the end off before she'd even woken up. She could tell the girl was still frightened and a little dazed when she'd come to hence the attack, though again Spike wasn't much of a help in that aspect. He seemed to have pushed her over the edge.
"What exactly happened between you two?" Mika asked as she got to her feet curious to why the girl was so very angry with him.
Spike turned around and shifted for a moment seemingly uncomfortable. "Listen kitten I was evil all right doesn't matter what I did exactly. I did what demons do."
"So, you're the big bad demon. I can do a spell to find out who she is, or at least to make sure she's not like you said before processed. I can't tell you whether or not it's really Buffy but I can tell you whether or not she's tainted by a spell." Mika crossed the room and picked up one of her dropped books. "I just have to make a run to the archives and pick up a few small volumes."
"Right then I'll just stay here." Spike fell into a chair in the corner and leaned against the small table. "Oi you mind gettin' my smokes 'fore you leave?"
Mika nodded and ducked out of the room for a few seconds only to return with a battered back of rolled cigarettes. "Thanks, kitten."
"Right, I'll be right back."
"Sure," Spike leaned further back in the chair taking it off two legs. He pulled one of the ciggy's out and stuck it in his mouth. Snapping his fingers a little he lit the tip of his finger and lit the end of the stick. He inhaled deeply and let the tobacco smoke rise into his lungs and back out again. He'd never spent much time in Trenton's room but it was a little more posh than his own. Inhaling again he looked to the walls. The boy had acquired a lot of memorabilia from earth pre apocalypse. There were a couple of stained and torn posters as well as baseballs, a football, a box of CD's, another box of VHS cassette tapes, and a few books. The wall just across from him housed most of that stuff on a built in wooden shelf. Because the walls were pretty much made of steal the shelf stood on the ground on the ends and in the middle propping it. The shelf held most of the memorabilia. Just in front of him on the smaller wall opposite the door was the bed, where the Slayer currently lay.
He stopped for a moment his eyes resting on her prone form. She was like he remembered her all those years ago. He was surprised that he remembered her that well. Sure he had fought her a lot, admired her for her strength, even if she'd dropped an organ on his back. He frowned, bitch. Her perky bleached blond highlights were still perfect. How was that even possible now? He couldn't even find a decent bottle of bleach to do his own hair with. In fact he hadn't had a hair cut in nearly six years. Absently Spike tugged on a strand of loose hair. His hair was just below his ears, mostly pulled back in an elastic. He thought it made him look pouncy, but he didn't trust anyone near his head with a pair of scissors.
"Contemplating a new hair do?"
Spike looked up taking the cigarette out of his mouth as his eyes fell on the girl, who had been unconscious only moments before. She was awake now, sitting up her hands on her head.
"Gonna fight me then Slayer, give me good eh?" He took another drag and set the chair back on four legs and leaned forward his elbows resting on his knees.
"Not until the pounding stops," she moaned and needed her temple lightly.
"You baffle me. You jump all over me at first holdin' a bleeding broken lamp at my throat and then you're all friendly, hey how ya doin'."
"That was a lamp?" She asked raising a sculpted brow. She looked like she'd just been to the salon. How was that even possible? "Besides I woke up a little while ago and saw you looking around the room. Obviously you don't want to kill me, at least not yet, so I don't need to go all 'grr argh' on you."
"Right," Spike finished off the last of his cigarette and ground the end of it into the wooden table. "So now that we're done with the small talk who are you?"
"Are you on something," Buffy asked.
"Listen, whoever you are you've done a good job, looked her up and all got everythin' down to the 't' including that annoying bump in her nose," He watched as her fingers flew to her nose at his words, "but it's too perfect, pet."
"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked.
"Listen you can't be her. You can't look like you do and live in this world unless the hellmouth suddenly has the best hair care salon on the west coast." He got to his feet pulling out Crydon as he did so and started toward her.
Buffy was already on her feet her fists raised as he approached. "Since when do you use weapons," she cocked her head to the side, "and why is it glowing?"
"Enough talk, bitch, I'm not going to leave until I have answers." He aimed the yellow sword at her. It was then he noticed Crydon was humming. The sound wasn't like anything he'd heard before it was piercing rushing through his body and making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His head automatically jerked away from the blade and the fingers closed around the hilt began to twitch. He tried to will the sword to stop, even speaking to it mentally, but the sound just became louder. He didn't even realize he'd closed his eyes until he heard the blond girl's pained voice and he forced his lids open again
"What is that?" She was on the bed again curled into a ball her hands over her ears rocking.
Spike looked down at the sword. That was the kind of hum only he heard, why could see hear it? The glow around the sword wasn't bright, and warm but somehow dull and cold. His hands twitched and he was on longer able to hold the blade in front of him. As his muscles collapsed and the sword resumed it's place at Spike's side the sound died. Crydon had never done that before. He could still hear the ringing in his ears, making his head pound, even if it were no longer ripping through the room. What had happened?
"What are you," Spike choked out as he looked at her still curled in a ball and for the first time in his life he willingly dropped Crydon. The sword hit the ground with a clatter and fell into an eerie silence. She didn't answer but gave a moan in response. Had Crydon rejected him, why? Spike swallowed willed himself to stop breathing. He didn't need too. Crydon was still lying on the floor a mere two feet from him but he was afraid to go to it. The separation was painful. He'd spent years with the sword attached to his side, never without it. Spike bent down and let his fingers coast over the metal. There was no sound, no pain. He finally let his fingers touch the hilt and pull it toward him. Just as he was looking it over Mika returned a stack of books in her arms.
"Ran into Angel along the way he thinks I'm looking for a solution again, which actually I should be instead of looking up a girl that you're convince is not real and who Trenton has attached a sick obsession to." Mika dropped her books on the table finally able to see again without the volumes obstructing her view. Her eyes fell to the floor and saw Spike barely touching Crydon with one hand on his head.
"What happened?" She asked her eyes widening. Her eyes strayed from Spike to Buffy who was still on the floor her hands over her ears. "God, what happened?"
"I don't know," Spike replied honestly, "we were arguing an' I was tryin' to find out who she was, an' Crydon…" He trailed off for a moment his hand tightening on the hilt hearing a faint welcoming vibration at the touch. He tightened the grip and moved the sword to his side.
"You couldn't wait two seconds for me to come back?" Mika asked exasperated. "I had a spell I could have done on her if she was conscious, one that would guarantee she would tell the truth and another to send her into a trance, find out if there was any mystical energy surrounding her."
Spike immediately went on the defensive refusing to tell Mika what had happened until he figured it out for himself. Instead he blamed it on her. "S'not my fault she's bloody well insane. She attacked me and like before passed out real quick."
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Apologizing was never something that Angel was good at, or at least when it came to Spike he had never been good at it. Spike had a way of inspiring his more murderous tendencies and more so in recent occasions Angelus tendencies. He knew why Angelus hated Spike. Spike had betrayed him and tried to send him to hell, but Angelus never seemed to look at the other side of it. Angelus betrayed Spike, left him and Dru, and worse than that stole Dru away from Spike when he finally returned. Angelus had taken every opportunity to mock and ridicule the injured vampire in an attempt to make up for his formally good years as Angel. It seemed as if there would always be a wedge in between the two of them. One that he was currently not helping to dislodge.
Angel looked to the top of the conference table where Sesa still lay her blade glowed a faint green but she still refused to sing for him. He'd sat for hours waiting for her comfort and feeling the night fall upon the shelter, but still no sound except of the occasional hum of discontent escaped her. He was almost convinced that he'd never hear her again when he lifted her from the table and but her in her sheath and got to his feet. He was feeling bad, bad enough to do something he hadn't done in months.
Growling angrily, Angel stomped down the hall and into supply cabinet. It was usually locked but with Zarah gone there was no real worry of things going missing. Spike only took two things from the cabinet blood, and peanut butter (jars found over the years, still sealed). He had cut down on the drinking though occasionally a bottle of whiskey went missing. They weren't supposed to drink the whiskey, but save it for special occasions or bargains. Right now he figured the hell with it. He grabbed the entire bottle that had been obviously stolen from over the past couple of years and removed the cap. He had gotten drunk plenty of times over the years but he hadn't called for her in nearly four.
The bottle still clasped in his hand he headed through the doors that separated their quarters from the civilians and stepped onto the deck. Inside was completely different from the upper deck. Underneath this military like establishment was something almost like little apartment made into the walls of a long hallway that appeared to have no end. People walked up and down the street, talking, laughing, playing. It was strange to watch them be so happy, but then again he had seen it from it's very beginning. At first they'd nearly killed each other, trapped from the sun, starving for fresh air and open spaces, now some of them had never been outside before. They had been born here and here they thrived. The caverns ran on for miles, with more and more unoccupied homes. The facility had obviously once been a remnant of some sort of military project.
He rarely came down here anymore and hadn't really walked among the people for five years. He knew she was still there though, waiting for him. She craved him, craved his fangs, his bite, the way he felt inside her. She didn't make him happy. She made him feel worse and dirty, but he needed her like he need the whiskey. It was something to get his mind of the biggest of his problems. At least when she was straddling his waist her had her hot mouth around his cock he would be lost. He would only need her for a few hours and after thanks he'd send her on her way. She always came when he called.
Her house was near the entrance to convenient to be coincidence. He could get to her place without ever being seen. Hiding in the shadows and feeling very much like the ass he was, Angle crept toward her door. When he reached her home, it was as he remembered. There was a surprisingly thriving fern lit by a sunlamp hung from her porch railing, and the porch, so odd looking in a place like this, was painted white. Every time he walked up those steps he remembered a past lovers house. He closed his eyes as he let his fingers run over the roughed wood of the porch rail. He could almost see the house on Revello drive, he could almost smell the fresh air and grass.
It was the slap that brought him back to reality. He hadn't expected that. His eyes flew open and his hand went to his cheek where she had struck him though it hadn't really hurt. He touched his face for an instant before looking into her face. She stood before him like he remembered, fire, and passion burning in her eyes. She was angry her arms crossed over her chest her feet spread to balance herself.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She screamed.
Angel watched her unmoving. Her hair was the same sea of brunette waves. Her eyes, hazel and full of life were the same, a few new wrinkles surrounded her eyes, and a light line around her mouth. Her lips were still full though, and her face was still smooth. His eyes trailed over her crossed arms and down her body, nothing there had changed either.
"Are you just going to stare you complete bastard, or do you plan on clubbing me and tossing me over your shoulder," she asked and raised an angry brow. "I'm not your whore, even though you treat me like one, and as if figure it, if that's the case then you owe me a lot of money."
Angel smiled, she had a way of getting under his skin and making him smile. She was nothing he had ever wanted, but she seemed to be all he needed. He took a step toward her and wasn't discouraged when she took a step backward. She was still glaring but her eyes had softened. He took another step and this time she didn't move. Her arms were still crossed but there were only inches between them. He took another half step and could feel her warm sweet breath on his face. He leaned forward his head resting on her shoulder. He could smell her, she still smelled like a summer day even though it wasn't possible. She had never seen the sunshine. She was only thirty or so and he had been coming to see her since she was twenty-four.
"Please," he whispered, "please." He nuzzled her neck and desperately wanted to grab hold of her and pull her to him.
To his surprise she took a step backward and out of his semi embrace. She shook her head her eyes nearly swimming with tears as she turned away from him. She'd never rejected him before, never. He watched her unsure of what to do. The bottle of whiskey sloshed in his free hand before dropping the porch floor. The contents began to spill from it in a steady stream.
"Are you going to let all that pour out or are you going to come inside and share it with me because believe me when I say I need a drink right now."
Angel reached for the bottle saving most of the amber liquid and fell into step behind her as they walked into her house. He had never been in there before, always she had come to his home, followed him to his world. She had never once invited him into hers.
Her house was dark, even when she turned the light on there were corners he was sure were permanently cast in shadow. He followed her down a narrow hallway and past a staircase and into a small kitchen. She had a nice wooden table in the middle of the room with a decent set up around it. She pulled out a chair and gestured for him to sit as she walked across the room. Angel sat down ignoring the way the chair creaked under his weight. He watched her as she stretched to the upper cabinet and pulled out a couple of shot glasses. Her loose black shirt lifted slightly as she stretched revealing a patch of tantalizing skin. He remembered the way it felt under his fingers, the way she burned him.
"I'm not going to have sex with you."
Angel pulled his eyes away from the revealed skin and to the back of her head just as she turned around. There wasn't really anything he could say to that. He could deny that that was why he had came to see her in the first place, but it would be a lie. He could tell her he was sorry, but she wouldn't believe him, he could leave, but he didn't want to.
She walked back toward the table and set the two glasses beside Angel's bottle of whiskey. She sighed, "I'll talk though, talk and share your whiskey because as I see it you owe me the liquor and I've never been able to just turn you away."
She picked up the bottle of amber liquid and poured a small amount into each glass. Angel watched pick up her glass and immediately drain it. She winched her face contorting as the burning liquid rushed down her throat. She gasped when she was finished and looked at the empty glass shaking her head. "I don't think I've ever had anything that tasted like that."
Angel picked up his own glass and drained it the burning slight if there was any at all. "He's coming out, Kate."
Kate turned to him and refilled her glass and then his, "When is he not coming out Angel, you've been telling me for years." She was bitter and hardly sympathetic.
"Closer," Angel swallowed, "he hasn't been out since…" he paused, "Molly, but today I almost…I."
"Was it Spike?"
Angel nodded and stared at his glass his eyes narrowing slightly as he remembered, almost like watching a dream the fight he'd had with Spike. He wanted to forget it not talk about it. He just wished Kate would let him get what he'd come for. He knew that it made him sound like a complete bastard, but Angel didn't much know what he was doing anymore.
"When is it not," Angel asked snorting and downing the liquor. He could feel all of it rushing over him. He choked. "I don't know what to do."
Kate didn't come to his side and he felt more alone in her presence then he had in years. Tears, he hadn't cried in years. He guessed he hadn't done a lot of things in years. Kate still didn't come to him and he leaned into his hands and tried to drown out the sounds of his sobs.
Almost ready for a little reunion…so get ready for that next chapter. Thanks for the reviews. I really appreciate the feedback. I hope I'm not dragging this out too much, also Buffy will remain entirely conscious the rest of the story, lol, I just noticed she's been passing out an awful lot.