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Chapter 11
Spike waited patiently while the nurse stitched Wesley’s arm. There was an IV in his other arm, slowly replenishing his body with blood.
“Why’d you cut yourself so deep?” He asked.
Wes glanced up from his arm. “Didn’t really think about it.”
Spike took his pack of cigarettes out, but one withering look from the old nurse made him pause and put them back. He suspected that she was a granorth demon, and he didn’t have the strength or energy to tangle with one of those at the moment.
Spike studied Wesley’s ashen face and his eyes strayed over to the bag of dark, sweet, intoxicating, delicious A positive. “Why’d you let her drink so much?” The question was more to himself than Wes.
“Didn’t really think about it.”
“Next time she attacks you, you should give it some thought,” Spike said mildly.
“Thanks for your concern. I’ll keep that in mind…”
“All done,” she announced. “Do you want something for that lip?”
Wes touched his mouth gingerly. “Maybe an aspirin.”
The nurse had cleaned the blood from Wes’s face delicately, and had done a pretty thorough job of it. But there was still a trickle of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth, and to Spike, it was at least the size of the Mississippi River.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Wes said as he took the pills from the nurse.
Spike shifted his weight. “Like what?”
“Like I’m dessert after your feast on Fred,” Wes said bitterly.
“I’m not. And I’m not going to apologize…”
“You should.”
“You know the situation…”
“It wasn’t your decision to make.”
Spike’s face shifted. “Seems like it was.”
“You had no right to do that to her,” Wes said, jumping to his feet. “No right at all.”
“What are you going to do, Wesley? Stake me? Sorry, I’m not Angel. I don’t trust you…I don’t even like you that much…”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You staked Angel, easily enough. He never saw it coming. I’m not giving you the same chance.”
“Oh, Spike, I don’t want to stake you…” He took a step forward and swung wide. Spike stepped back and his fist shot out, connecting with Wes’s mouth, and his lip erupted in blood again.
Spike brought his knuckles up to his mouth and licked the blood away without taking his eyes off of Wes. “Don’t want to fight you right now. You know why I did it.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“If I was wrong, it won’t matter. You know that.”
“I don’t know that. I only have your word…”
“And Angel’s.”
“And what if the day doesn’t reset itself, and Fred is a…a…monster…damned…that thing…”
“Bloody hell. It’s not the end of the world. Re-soul her. You know how.”
“I don’t know how. Willow is the only one who knows how.”
“Right, well, I’m sure you can figure it out. Back off, Wes. You’re full of blood and I’m feeling a might peckish.”
“Do you have any idea, any idea at all, what it’s like to see the woman you love…she’s not herself. She’s dead and there is a demon…”
“What the fuck do you think we’re supposed to prevent? That’s exactly what Illyria is. Exactly. And don’t lecture me, right? I’ve been around the block a few more times than you.”
“Spike, I just don’t understand why.”
“Her soul is safe. We can call her soul back. Her soul is not destroyed or in hell. Why am I the only one who understands this? It’s not a difficult concept.”
“I don’t like the concept of any of this.”
“I’m going up to the penthouse,” Spike announced, turning around on his heel.
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”
“I’m starving and Angel has all the good blood up there.”
“But Fred, she’s…”
“She’s probably still out.”
Wes grabbed a handful of tissues and pressed them against his mouth. They both knew they’d go up there, regardless of whether or not Fred was out. They avoided eye contact on the way up to the penthouse. Spike happily puffed away in Angel’s private elevator, taking pleasure in the small things. Angel hated the smell of smoke in such small, cramped, private, spaces. Wes kept touching his lips and examining the tissue.
Fred was stretched out on Angel’s couch. Her face was normal, peaceful, her hands crossed on her chest. Wes looked away from her sharply, and spotted Angel sitting in the corner, nursing a mug of blood.
“She’ll be asleep for awhile. How’s your arm?”
“Fine.” Wes stepped over to the couch and carefully moved her hand off of her chest.
“Spike, get out of my fridge.”
Spike ignored Angel’s request and pulled out a big, plastic container of otter’s blood. He didn’t bother putting it in a glass or even popping it in the microwave. He tilted his head back and downed more than half of it without pausing. It was cold and disgusting, but he didn’t care.
“Wesley, do we have anybody here who can ensoul her?”
Wes looked up. “I don’t know. As far as I know, Willow is the only witch with the actual curse and the power…but…”
“I’m sure there’s somebody. Find them and bring them here.”
“I don’t want to leave her,” Wesley stated.
“And I don’t want her to kill you when she wakes up.”
“Fred would never…”
“Wesley,” Angel said softly, “both of us know that that’s not Fred. Not yet.”
“I don’t think she’s interested in killing him,” Spike observed, and then finished off the blood.
“Did you just drink that whole thing?”
Spike belched. “Yes.”
“I don’t want to leave her,” Wesley repeated quietly. His voice was low, but firm, and it was clear that he wouldn’t be swayed.
“Don’t look at me,” Spike said.
“I wouldn’t dream of giving you that sort of responsibility,” Angel snapped.
“Good.”
“Well, I certainly can’t leave the two of you alone with her.”
Spike waved a hand. “We’ll be fine.”
“Not if she wakes up.”
“I’m confident we can control ourselves,” Wes said.
“I’m not.”
Spike opened one of the cabinets and fished around until he found the bag of Doritos he stashed back there. He grabbed one of his beers from the back of the fridge and made himself comfortable on the big, overstuffed chairs.
“We’ll just watch a bit of telly,” he announced. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Why don’t you go home and watch TV there,” Angel suggested icily.
“I don’t have a 48 inch plasma TV, mate.”
“So, Wes refuses to abandon Fred and you refuse to abandon the TV?”
“Seems like.”
Wes settled in the other chair, within touching distance of Fred. “I can make some calls from here,” he promised. “I have my entire department working on finding somebody.”
Angel hesitated another moment. “I’ll be back soon.”
Spike nodded and turned on the TV. He wasn’t worried. He knew that they’d be able to give her back her soul—obviously Willow wasn’t the only one in the world with the power. If they needed to, he’d go all the way back to Africa himself and drag the cave demon back to L.A.
Spike watched the TV and Wes watched Fred. His eyes were distant, and Spike turned down the TV unconsciously. Each minute that passed made Spike more tense, though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. He didn’t really think he had to worry about Fred waking up and attacking them again, and he knew that they’d be able to get her soul back…but something was still bothering him…
“What did Lorne tell you?” Wes asked, startling Spike out of his thoughts.
“Told us we had to save Fred.”
“And?”
Spike frowned. “Illyria.”
“Illyria might need living flesh to create her shell. By killing Fred…by turning her…”
“We don’t know that,” Spike muttered.
“Maybe not. Maybe Illyria is still inside of her body. But how can she contain two demons?”
“I don’t know.”
Wes wasn’t talking to Spike though, or expecting a response from him. “I feel like we’re missing something…I should get my books…”
“What books?”
Wes looked up. “I have one…well, I have several volumes that might help. I’ll call and have them brought up.”
“Oh, but I want to play.” Fred sat up and blinked with large, yellow eyes. “Wouldn’t you rather play with me than read some dusty old book?”
Wes jumped to his feet and backed up. “Fred…how are you feeling?”
She yawned and stretched sensually. “A little drowsy.” She flashed her teeth. “And hungry.”
“We’re out of blood,” Spike said, rising to his feet too.
“There are other things,” she purred, falling over on her hands and knees.
“There are,” Spike agreed, casting his eyes around the room for the dart gun. Surely Angel would keep it within grabbing distance?
Wes slowly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He didn’t want to make any sudden movements and attract her attention. She seemed to be quite interested in Spike, and though a part of Wes wanted her to be looking at him with those hungry, lustful, dangerous eyes, he knew that he had the best shot of getting Angel and help.
“I can feel you inside of me, Spike.” Her voice and smile were bright, girlish, with a giggle lurking underneath. It wasn’t sultry or seductive at all…but he couldn’t help but respond. “Your teeth in my flesh.” She touched the marks on the side of her neck. “Your blood in my body.” She bit her lip gently and a drop of blood colored her skin a dark red. “Your demon…”
“Angel? This is Wes…”
Fred rounded on him. “I haven’t forgotten about you, lover.”
Wes sent a pointed look to Spike. Distract her.
“Fred…love…c’mere.”
She didn’t need another invitation. She pounced on him with glee. Her whole body was shaking with excitement, and Spike knew that she would throw herself into everything and anything without a second thought. Dying had stripped her of her inhibitions, and now she was simply the embodiment of every feeling and desire Fred ever had.
Fred overwhelmed him, and distantly he could hear Wes on the phone. Where was the gun? If Wes didn’t do something about the situation soon, Spike wouldn’t care to keep himself under control. What control he did have was slipping through his bloody fingers—they were bloody…whose blood was it?
She was all over him with her mouth and claws and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It wasn’t unpleasant at all. He thought if he didn’t stop her he was probably going to regret it. Then he thought it wouldn’t matter if the day just reset itself again. It wouldn’t matter at all. Then he thought of Wes armed with a stake, and even if the day was going to reset, he didn’t want to sit this one out as a pile of dust.
“Fred,” Wes said in a loud, assertive voice, “Fred. Stop that.”
She did lift her head, but she didn’t turn to face Wes. “Are you jealous?” She punctuated her question by thrusting against Spike, her hips rotating against his.
“No, quite the opposite.”
Fred released Spike and spun around. “You? You’re not jealous? You’re jealous of every man who’s ever looked my direction.”
“That’s not true Fred.”
“Charles. Knox. Even Angel.”
“Stop it.”
“Although, you should be jealous of Charles. I bet if he were here now, he’d know how to satisfy me. He’s full of energy…”
“Fred…”
“I never had it so good.”
Wesley visibly winced and Spike thought maybe he should try to break in. He looked around again for the dart gun, but he couldn’t see it. Had Angel left it downstairs? Fred started to walk, slowly, towards Wes. He backed up with each step until he was against the wall.
“You don’t have to be jealous, Wesley. I can make you like us…”
“No.”
“I can make you like us and we can be together…wouldn’t you like that?”
“No.”
“Don’t you want to be with me?” Her human mask returned. “I thought you loved me.”
“No, I loved Fred. You are not her.”
“I feel like her,” she countered. She was within touching distance now, but she didn’t make a move towards him. “Well, I feel more alive…the Fred you remember was such a wilting little flower…”
“You are wrong.”
“What?”
“Fred was not a wilting flower. Far from it.”
Spike, alarmed by the tone of Wesley’s voice and the spark in his eye, stepped over and grabbed Fred’s shoulder. He didn’t want to see Fred as a pile of dust either. She spun around and vamped, then buried her teeth in his neck. He grunted, but didn’t try to pull away from her. She grabbed one of his hands and boldly put it between her legs. She rubbed against him furiously, and Spike did try to pull away. She didn’t let him though.
Angel burst in and, Spike noticed, he did have the gun. For the second time in an hour, he shot her in the back of the neck.
“What the fuck?” Angel sputtered.
“Why did you have the gun?” Spike exploded, putting a hand up to his neck to staunch the bleeding.
“I left a gun here.” He pointed to the rifle leaning against the couch. “Are you fucking blind?”
“We didn’t notice it,” Wes said softly.
“Obviously.” He rounded on Spike. “What were you thinking?”
“I was just…trying to help.”
“Help? How is that helping?”
“Isn’t that how you always helped me?” Spike asked calmly.
Angel froze, the angry words dying on his lip. Wes looked at the two vampires, distinctly uncomfortable. Spike crossed his arms and didn’t blink.
“That was different,” Angel finally said.
“Not really.”
“Yes it was.”
“How?”
“For one thing, I wasn’t taking advantage of your situation…”
Spike’s mouth fell open in shock. He gaped at Angel, silently, until Angel shifted uncomfortably and broke eye contact. He turned his attention to Wesley. “I found somebody who can soul her.”
“Marvelous.”
“She’s on her way up.” Angel bent and picked up Fred. “I’ll put her in the bedroom for now. Spike…”
“What?”
He glanced at the fresh wound on Spike’s neck. “If you call Harmony, she’ll bring up more blood.”
Spike nodded. “Right.”
Wes silently handed a towel to Spike.
“Sorry about that,” Spike said gruffly.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Spike smiled tightly and wiped the blood from his fingers.
Spike waited patiently while the nurse stitched Wesley’s arm. There was an IV in his other arm, slowly replenishing his body with blood.
“Why’d you cut yourself so deep?” He asked.
Wes glanced up from his arm. “Didn’t really think about it.”
Spike took his pack of cigarettes out, but one withering look from the old nurse made him pause and put them back. He suspected that she was a granorth demon, and he didn’t have the strength or energy to tangle with one of those at the moment.
Spike studied Wesley’s ashen face and his eyes strayed over to the bag of dark, sweet, intoxicating, delicious A positive. “Why’d you let her drink so much?” The question was more to himself than Wes.
“Didn’t really think about it.”
“Next time she attacks you, you should give it some thought,” Spike said mildly.
“Thanks for your concern. I’ll keep that in mind…”
“All done,” she announced. “Do you want something for that lip?”
Wes touched his mouth gingerly. “Maybe an aspirin.”
The nurse had cleaned the blood from Wes’s face delicately, and had done a pretty thorough job of it. But there was still a trickle of blood flowing from the corner of his mouth, and to Spike, it was at least the size of the Mississippi River.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Wes said as he took the pills from the nurse.
Spike shifted his weight. “Like what?”
“Like I’m dessert after your feast on Fred,” Wes said bitterly.
“I’m not. And I’m not going to apologize…”
“You should.”
“You know the situation…”
“It wasn’t your decision to make.”
Spike’s face shifted. “Seems like it was.”
“You had no right to do that to her,” Wes said, jumping to his feet. “No right at all.”
“What are you going to do, Wesley? Stake me? Sorry, I’m not Angel. I don’t trust you…I don’t even like you that much…”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You staked Angel, easily enough. He never saw it coming. I’m not giving you the same chance.”
“Oh, Spike, I don’t want to stake you…” He took a step forward and swung wide. Spike stepped back and his fist shot out, connecting with Wes’s mouth, and his lip erupted in blood again.
Spike brought his knuckles up to his mouth and licked the blood away without taking his eyes off of Wes. “Don’t want to fight you right now. You know why I did it.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“If I was wrong, it won’t matter. You know that.”
“I don’t know that. I only have your word…”
“And Angel’s.”
“And what if the day doesn’t reset itself, and Fred is a…a…monster…damned…that thing…”
“Bloody hell. It’s not the end of the world. Re-soul her. You know how.”
“I don’t know how. Willow is the only one who knows how.”
“Right, well, I’m sure you can figure it out. Back off, Wes. You’re full of blood and I’m feeling a might peckish.”
“Do you have any idea, any idea at all, what it’s like to see the woman you love…she’s not herself. She’s dead and there is a demon…”
“What the fuck do you think we’re supposed to prevent? That’s exactly what Illyria is. Exactly. And don’t lecture me, right? I’ve been around the block a few more times than you.”
“Spike, I just don’t understand why.”
“Her soul is safe. We can call her soul back. Her soul is not destroyed or in hell. Why am I the only one who understands this? It’s not a difficult concept.”
“I don’t like the concept of any of this.”
“I’m going up to the penthouse,” Spike announced, turning around on his heel.
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”
“I’m starving and Angel has all the good blood up there.”
“But Fred, she’s…”
“She’s probably still out.”
Wes grabbed a handful of tissues and pressed them against his mouth. They both knew they’d go up there, regardless of whether or not Fred was out. They avoided eye contact on the way up to the penthouse. Spike happily puffed away in Angel’s private elevator, taking pleasure in the small things. Angel hated the smell of smoke in such small, cramped, private, spaces. Wes kept touching his lips and examining the tissue.
Fred was stretched out on Angel’s couch. Her face was normal, peaceful, her hands crossed on her chest. Wes looked away from her sharply, and spotted Angel sitting in the corner, nursing a mug of blood.
“She’ll be asleep for awhile. How’s your arm?”
“Fine.” Wes stepped over to the couch and carefully moved her hand off of her chest.
“Spike, get out of my fridge.”
Spike ignored Angel’s request and pulled out a big, plastic container of otter’s blood. He didn’t bother putting it in a glass or even popping it in the microwave. He tilted his head back and downed more than half of it without pausing. It was cold and disgusting, but he didn’t care.
“Wesley, do we have anybody here who can ensoul her?”
Wes looked up. “I don’t know. As far as I know, Willow is the only witch with the actual curse and the power…but…”
“I’m sure there’s somebody. Find them and bring them here.”
“I don’t want to leave her,” Wesley stated.
“And I don’t want her to kill you when she wakes up.”
“Fred would never…”
“Wesley,” Angel said softly, “both of us know that that’s not Fred. Not yet.”
“I don’t think she’s interested in killing him,” Spike observed, and then finished off the blood.
“Did you just drink that whole thing?”
Spike belched. “Yes.”
“I don’t want to leave her,” Wesley repeated quietly. His voice was low, but firm, and it was clear that he wouldn’t be swayed.
“Don’t look at me,” Spike said.
“I wouldn’t dream of giving you that sort of responsibility,” Angel snapped.
“Good.”
“Well, I certainly can’t leave the two of you alone with her.”
Spike waved a hand. “We’ll be fine.”
“Not if she wakes up.”
“I’m confident we can control ourselves,” Wes said.
“I’m not.”
Spike opened one of the cabinets and fished around until he found the bag of Doritos he stashed back there. He grabbed one of his beers from the back of the fridge and made himself comfortable on the big, overstuffed chairs.
“We’ll just watch a bit of telly,” he announced. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Why don’t you go home and watch TV there,” Angel suggested icily.
“I don’t have a 48 inch plasma TV, mate.”
“So, Wes refuses to abandon Fred and you refuse to abandon the TV?”
“Seems like.”
Wes settled in the other chair, within touching distance of Fred. “I can make some calls from here,” he promised. “I have my entire department working on finding somebody.”
Angel hesitated another moment. “I’ll be back soon.”
Spike nodded and turned on the TV. He wasn’t worried. He knew that they’d be able to give her back her soul—obviously Willow wasn’t the only one in the world with the power. If they needed to, he’d go all the way back to Africa himself and drag the cave demon back to L.A.
Spike watched the TV and Wes watched Fred. His eyes were distant, and Spike turned down the TV unconsciously. Each minute that passed made Spike more tense, though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly why. He didn’t really think he had to worry about Fred waking up and attacking them again, and he knew that they’d be able to get her soul back…but something was still bothering him…
“What did Lorne tell you?” Wes asked, startling Spike out of his thoughts.
“Told us we had to save Fred.”
“And?”
Spike frowned. “Illyria.”
“Illyria might need living flesh to create her shell. By killing Fred…by turning her…”
“We don’t know that,” Spike muttered.
“Maybe not. Maybe Illyria is still inside of her body. But how can she contain two demons?”
“I don’t know.”
Wes wasn’t talking to Spike though, or expecting a response from him. “I feel like we’re missing something…I should get my books…”
“What books?”
Wes looked up. “I have one…well, I have several volumes that might help. I’ll call and have them brought up.”
“Oh, but I want to play.” Fred sat up and blinked with large, yellow eyes. “Wouldn’t you rather play with me than read some dusty old book?”
Wes jumped to his feet and backed up. “Fred…how are you feeling?”
She yawned and stretched sensually. “A little drowsy.” She flashed her teeth. “And hungry.”
“We’re out of blood,” Spike said, rising to his feet too.
“There are other things,” she purred, falling over on her hands and knees.
“There are,” Spike agreed, casting his eyes around the room for the dart gun. Surely Angel would keep it within grabbing distance?
Wes slowly pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He didn’t want to make any sudden movements and attract her attention. She seemed to be quite interested in Spike, and though a part of Wes wanted her to be looking at him with those hungry, lustful, dangerous eyes, he knew that he had the best shot of getting Angel and help.
“I can feel you inside of me, Spike.” Her voice and smile were bright, girlish, with a giggle lurking underneath. It wasn’t sultry or seductive at all…but he couldn’t help but respond. “Your teeth in my flesh.” She touched the marks on the side of her neck. “Your blood in my body.” She bit her lip gently and a drop of blood colored her skin a dark red. “Your demon…”
“Angel? This is Wes…”
Fred rounded on him. “I haven’t forgotten about you, lover.”
Wes sent a pointed look to Spike. Distract her.
“Fred…love…c’mere.”
She didn’t need another invitation. She pounced on him with glee. Her whole body was shaking with excitement, and Spike knew that she would throw herself into everything and anything without a second thought. Dying had stripped her of her inhibitions, and now she was simply the embodiment of every feeling and desire Fred ever had.
Fred overwhelmed him, and distantly he could hear Wes on the phone. Where was the gun? If Wes didn’t do something about the situation soon, Spike wouldn’t care to keep himself under control. What control he did have was slipping through his bloody fingers—they were bloody…whose blood was it?
She was all over him with her mouth and claws and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It wasn’t unpleasant at all. He thought if he didn’t stop her he was probably going to regret it. Then he thought it wouldn’t matter if the day just reset itself again. It wouldn’t matter at all. Then he thought of Wes armed with a stake, and even if the day was going to reset, he didn’t want to sit this one out as a pile of dust.
“Fred,” Wes said in a loud, assertive voice, “Fred. Stop that.”
She did lift her head, but she didn’t turn to face Wes. “Are you jealous?” She punctuated her question by thrusting against Spike, her hips rotating against his.
“No, quite the opposite.”
Fred released Spike and spun around. “You? You’re not jealous? You’re jealous of every man who’s ever looked my direction.”
“That’s not true Fred.”
“Charles. Knox. Even Angel.”
“Stop it.”
“Although, you should be jealous of Charles. I bet if he were here now, he’d know how to satisfy me. He’s full of energy…”
“Fred…”
“I never had it so good.”
Wesley visibly winced and Spike thought maybe he should try to break in. He looked around again for the dart gun, but he couldn’t see it. Had Angel left it downstairs? Fred started to walk, slowly, towards Wes. He backed up with each step until he was against the wall.
“You don’t have to be jealous, Wesley. I can make you like us…”
“No.”
“I can make you like us and we can be together…wouldn’t you like that?”
“No.”
“Don’t you want to be with me?” Her human mask returned. “I thought you loved me.”
“No, I loved Fred. You are not her.”
“I feel like her,” she countered. She was within touching distance now, but she didn’t make a move towards him. “Well, I feel more alive…the Fred you remember was such a wilting little flower…”
“You are wrong.”
“What?”
“Fred was not a wilting flower. Far from it.”
Spike, alarmed by the tone of Wesley’s voice and the spark in his eye, stepped over and grabbed Fred’s shoulder. He didn’t want to see Fred as a pile of dust either. She spun around and vamped, then buried her teeth in his neck. He grunted, but didn’t try to pull away from her. She grabbed one of his hands and boldly put it between her legs. She rubbed against him furiously, and Spike did try to pull away. She didn’t let him though.
Angel burst in and, Spike noticed, he did have the gun. For the second time in an hour, he shot her in the back of the neck.
“What the fuck?” Angel sputtered.
“Why did you have the gun?” Spike exploded, putting a hand up to his neck to staunch the bleeding.
“I left a gun here.” He pointed to the rifle leaning against the couch. “Are you fucking blind?”
“We didn’t notice it,” Wes said softly.
“Obviously.” He rounded on Spike. “What were you thinking?”
“I was just…trying to help.”
“Help? How is that helping?”
“Isn’t that how you always helped me?” Spike asked calmly.
Angel froze, the angry words dying on his lip. Wes looked at the two vampires, distinctly uncomfortable. Spike crossed his arms and didn’t blink.
“That was different,” Angel finally said.
“Not really.”
“Yes it was.”
“How?”
“For one thing, I wasn’t taking advantage of your situation…”
Spike’s mouth fell open in shock. He gaped at Angel, silently, until Angel shifted uncomfortably and broke eye contact. He turned his attention to Wesley. “I found somebody who can soul her.”
“Marvelous.”
“She’s on her way up.” Angel bent and picked up Fred. “I’ll put her in the bedroom for now. Spike…”
“What?”
He glanced at the fresh wound on Spike’s neck. “If you call Harmony, she’ll bring up more blood.”
Spike nodded. “Right.”
Wes silently handed a towel to Spike.
“Sorry about that,” Spike said gruffly.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Spike smiled tightly and wiped the blood from his fingers.