Underneath the Grief - Part 2

When Fred glanced up at the room, she looked so lost that it broke my heart. I stepped forward again, holding an arm out to her. She stumbled toward me and I drew her into my embrace, letting her bury her face in my chest, wailing.

"It's okay," I whispered to her, "let it out." I directed her to the couch, sitting her down without letting go. Gunn took one of her hands and Lorne patted her shoulder. Everyone else was starting to look uncomfortable with the display of raw grief.

Then Spike, standing in the corner, leaning against the column between the living and dining rooms, started singing "Amazing Grace" in his rich tenor. By the third line, most everyone except me and Fred joined him. Lorne sang a counterpoint to the main melody which meant I noticed when he faltered. He had been looking at Spike, but his gaze whipped back around to me.

He knew. Stupid empath demon could have known as soon as Spike opened his mouth. I looked down, refusing to make eye contact with Lorne. Now was not the time to delve into the absurd vagaries of my sex life. I prayed that no one else noticed Lorne's reaction.

"Angel," Fred said to me quietly. "It's too much in here. Can I sleep now?"

"Sure, Fred. Whatever you need. Do you want me to take you home?"

"No, I'll stay here a while longer, I think. I just need a little sleep."

"No problem," I said, helping Fred to her feet and leading her back into Wesley's bedroom. "Is this okay?" I asked. "It's not too...?"

"It's perfect." Fred sank down into the bed, curling up with her back to me. She hugged a pillow and I sat next to her, petting her hair. I could hear the song ending and Lorne starting the group in on another song.

"It hurts so much."

"I know."

"It's like," she said, "I was dreaming Wes was safe right next to me. And every time I wake up, he's gone again. And every time, it breaks my heart a little more."

"You're strong, Fred," I whispered. "You'll get through this. You just have to keep breathing, keep living. It's what Wes wanted most of all."

She sniffed and hugged her pillow tighter and I felt more than heard Spike in the doorway. He sat down next to us, running a hand down my arm to my elbow. I nodded to him and turned my attention back to Fred. After a moment, Spike moved around to the other side of the bed, kneeling at the floor, facing her. He took one of her hands, patting it.

We sat in silence, mourning Wesley. And then Spike started singing. It was a hymn, old and sweet and solemn. He was certainly on a singing kick tonight. I joined him, singing quietly and probably very badly the words I remembered, humming the rest. When that song was done, he switched to one I didn't recognize. Eventually Fred's breathing slowed and she slept.

Spike nodded to me and I stood from the bed carefully so I wouldn't disturb her. Spike followed me from the room, slipping the door shut behind him.

"That was a good thing you did," I praised, catching his hand in mine. I knew there was this side of him, more so since he got his soul. But I hadn't seen much of it. Spike could be sweet, caring, loving.

"Yeah, I'm a bloody saint," he smiled sadly. "Let's get soused." Spike pulled me toward the main room, but dropped my hand before we got very far. Before anyone else could see us.

As I passed the kitchen, Lorne pulled me in. "Hey?" I asked, though I knew where this was going.

"Angel," he whispered angrily, "I didn't believe my ears until I caught the encore in the bedroom. You and Spike? What are you thinking, big guy?"
I looked at him for a moment, mouth hanging open as I tried to think of what to say. "Uh...if you can't beat 'em, join 'em?"

"Well, yeah, but at the groin?" Lorne was incredulous, and I can't say I blame him. Spike had been sleeping in my bed for almost a week, and every morning I was surprised he was still there.

I shrugged.

"Angel cakes, do you know how badly this could turn out?"

"You mean besides the fact that we could easily end up killing each other? Why, Lorne? Did you see something?"

"Nothing too bad imminently, besides the big black doom I've been reading from everyone lately. But eventually, yeah. This will end badly."

"Well, then," I concluded fiercely, brushing past him, "I guess we'll have until eventually."

In the main room, Spike was talking to Harmony and Gunn in one corner and in another all the bookish people were discussing something intensely. I stopped at Wes' picture. "What do you think, Wes?" I asked his image in a whisper. "Do you think it's a bad idea me sleeping with Spike? Besides the fact he's a guy? He doesn't make me very happy, but just having someone at all makes this whole destiny thing a little easier. I miss having a good friend around all the time. You and I had that argument, Cordelia died, Fred's gone back to crazy (sorry, man), Gunn has his new lawyer brain, and Lorne is just Lorne. Spike and I were friends before, sort of. When we were both evil. And he's like me, he gets it. Well, as much as that pea brain of his could get it. Isn't it good to have someone, to share yourself with? Even if it doesn't make any sense?"
Of course he couldn't answer me. My questions would just have to be answered in time. I sighed and grabbed another bottle of liquor before heading out onto the balcony. The night air was refreshing and I tried to take a moment to enjoy being alone. But I couldn't do it. Dammit, Spike had been around so much lately that I had grown used to having company. And speak of the devil, Spike stepped out onto the balcony, starting to hand me a drink, until he saw I had my own.

"You and the empath have a row?" He leaned against the balcony's railing, facing me.

"He knows about us," I admitted, turning and leaning next to Spike. "Thanks to your singing."

"Wasn't too thrilled? Didn't think the flamboyant git would be the one to have a problem with us."

"It's not that. He thinks this will end badly."

"And what do you think?"

"That he's probably right, but it's not something I want to worry about now."

Spike waited a moment before clearing his throat and saying, "I'll have you know my brain is at least as big as a grapefruit, pet. Ask Harm, she's seen it." He winked and tapped his temple.

"You heard me." I thought I had only been spilling my guts to Wesley, but I guess I'm living proof that dead men do tell tales. Or vampires just have really good hearing.

Nodding slyly, he looked me over, studying me. He smiled at me as if he had learned a juicy secret. "You need me, don't you? As much as I need you, you need me to keep you here."

"What do you mean 'to keep me here'?"

"Here, in this fight. Just like in the Deeper Well, I'm your anchor, your link to the big guys upstairs." I certainly felt more grounded than I had in a long time. Since Cordelia had disappeared.

"Fuck me, are you my new Cordelia?"

"Well I've got the visions, I s'pose." He looked down at his chest. "Don't have the massive rack, though. That a problem for you, pet?"

"Definitely," I chuckled, "but somehow I think I'll survive." I took a few swallows from my bottle. "At least your mouth is as pretty as a girl's."

"You're just saying that 'cause you like what I do with it." I shivered at his low, low voice, saturated with suggestion.

"You really need me, too?" I asked. I guess the alcohol had me feeling more emotional than normal. More willing to pose these sorts of questions.

"Hey, it's always good to have at least one friend. Especially in our crazy world."

"Quite true."

Sometime later in the night, when Spike was off playing poker with the office drones, I found Gunn by himself in the kitchen. Leaning against the refrigerator, he looked up at me.

"Hey, Angel," he said quietly, looking around like he wanted something to do.

"How're the ribs?" I asked as I watched him cleaning up.

"Sore," he replied tersely.

"How's the ego?"

Gunn snorted, "Even worse."

"That's good," I replied, taking up a towel and drying the dishes as he washed them.

"Good? I know you're all Broody McGee all the time, man, but some of us aren't used to feeling this...guilty. I don't think I'll ever feel like a good person again."

"If you weren't a good person, you wouldn't feel this guilty, Gunn."

Roughly Gunn pushed a bowl at me, asking, "How do I make it stop? I mean, when I signed that paper, I knew there would be consequences. I just didn't think it'd be..."

"One of us?" I finished for him.

Gunn nodded. "How do I make up for this awful thing I've done?"

"You atone," I replied simply. "There are always chances to atone, Gunn. You just have to be on the lookout for them."