![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Chapter 16
The soft knock on the door shocked Wesley out of his light doze and brought him to his feet. He paused, uncertain if somebody was there or if it had just been his imagination. After a silent ten seconds, he heard it again. A gentle tap, tap, tap.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me…Fred…”
Wesley’s eyes widened in surprise, and all threads of exhaustion were blown away by the sound of her voice. He had had a pleasant conversation with her earlier that day, but he didn’t count on any more chances to spend time with her. He thought they would start to get suspicious if they saw him hanging around their trailers all day, every day. Their attempt to be friendly had been a double-edged sword. It allowed him to get the evidence that would probably clear them of the charges, but it also brought undo attention to himself and hindered him.
He opened the door immediately with a smile. “Fred, I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Can I come in?” She asked.
“Of course.” He held the door open and stepped away. She smiled shyly as she walked past, and he could tell just from the slope of her body and her smile that she was very nervous about something. Skittish even. Like if he said the wrong thing, she would flee and never return. “Can I help you with something?”
“Do you have anything to drink?”
“Water…I could go down the hallway and get a Coke.”
“No, I mean something hard. Like whiskey.”
Wesley smiled faintly and held his arms open apologetically. “Fresh out.”
“That’s ok then.” She buried her hands in her pockets and looked everywhere but at him.
Wes pointed at the chair. “Would you like to have a seat?”
“I think I want to stand…no, I better sit. I’m feeling a little light-headed and I was always told to put my head between my knees. Well, I’m not feeling that light-headed, not yet. I might after we finish talking. Or after Ethan finds out I was here…he wouldn’t like it if he knew I was here. He has a strict rule about these things and if he finds out about your wife…oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so thoughtless…”
Wesley held up his hand. “Fred, Fred, Fred, calm down. Take a deep breath. That’s it. Here, maybe you had better take a seat. Feel betting now?”
She looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded. “Yeah, sometimes I get a little excited. And when I do, I ramble.” She smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He sat on the chair across from her and leaned over the table. “So what do you need to talk to me about?”
“I was talking to Charles and we were discussing leaving, and Ethan overheard us somehow. I don’t know how, I thought we were alone. Anyway, we’ve been talking about it for a few days now, you know? Charles thinks it would be better for both of us if we go…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. But Ethan was angry…”
“Did he threaten you?” Wesley asked, remembering what Buffy had told him about Cordelia.
“Not physically, he was just…Really, really angry.” She looked at him a little helplessly. “I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Well, what happened?”
“Charles left. He said he didn’t have to take that shit from anybody. He already had his truck packed. He just left.”
“He left without you?” Wesley asked, surprised. He knew they were not a couple, but Fred was probably Gunn’s best friend…perhaps his only friend in the world.
“He wanted me to come but…”
“Fred, why didn’t you?” He longed for her to say something, anything that would make her look better. Even if she were simply afraid of what Ethan would do if she left. That would be a good enough reason for him.
“I can’t…I don’t want to talk about it.”
Slowly, he put his hand across the table and covered hers. “Fred, I want to help you. And I will do anything I can, but I have to know what you need from me.”
“I don’t want to leave, not really. Ethan takes good care of us, he pays us well, I get to travel around the country, and I’m good at my job. I enjoy what I do. I’m helping people.”
Wesley gaped at her. “You can’t possibly believe that, can you?” He exclaimed.
She looked at him oddly. “You don’t believe it?”
“I…”
“No, I can see it on your face. You don’t believe it, do you? Then why are you here?”
Wesley held up his hands. “Ok, you’re right. I don’t believe it. I’ll make a deal with you, right? I’ll be one hundred percent honest with you if you extend me the same courtesy. Deal?”
This was a calculated risk that Wesley knew could pay off big or blow up in his face so badly that it destroys his entire career.
“Deal. You go first.”
Wesley took a deep breath. “You were right about one thing, I don’t believe in what you’re doing. It’s a scam, Fred, a fraud, and we both know it.” He paused and waited for her to protest, but she didn’t say anything. “My name is not John Smith. It’s Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Federal Agent.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re investigating us?”
“Yes and no. There have been four women murdered in the past several months, and the only pattern we could find is the Rayne of Love Ministry and Revival. So my partner and I…”
“Elizabeth?”
“Yes. Her name is Buffy Summers. We were assigned to the case and have spent the last two weeks following your show. When nothing happened, we decided to move our investigation closer.” He released his breath and waited for her angry response. He wouldn’t blame her. He would be angry in her shoes.
“Nobody here is a killer, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce,” she informed him tightly.
Wesley shrugged. “I don’t have any convincing evidence either way. But I’m telling you this because you’re not a suspect.”
“What about Charles?”
“No, he’s not either. Now it’s your turn.”
“My revelation isn’t quite as heavy as yours.” She took a deep breath. “I know that Angel can’t heal anybody and that Spike can’t talk to the dead. Of course they can’t, that’s why they need me. But I still think I’m helping people. Sometimes all a person has left is hope, and we give them that.”
“And sometimes a person needs legitimate medical attention,” Wesley interjected.
She ignored him and continued. “I met Ethan when I was just finishing my Master’s degree. Yeah, I have a Master’s, and I work as a shill and gopher for a traveling ministry. I know I could do greater things, but something happened when I finished school…I just…snapped.” She smiled and adjusted her glasses. “Went crazy. Ethan offered a chance to escape the real world.”
“How long have you been living in your own world, Fred?”
“Five years. But this is a completely different world than the real world. They’re my family now, and I haven’t been crazy in a long time.”
“Your family? I see. Does that mean you wouldn’t be willing to help me?”
Fred jumped back as though he had poked her with a cattle prod. “You want me to turn in my friends? The only people who care about me?”
He shook his head, “No. But I’m treading water here, Fred. If it is a member of the ministry, then we have to get them before the next tour of shows start. And if it’s not? Then there’s a murderer out there right now and I’m wasting my time and a girl could pay for my mistake with her life. Now I’ll understand if you don’t want to help, but I hope you understand the situation I’m in.”
She nodded slowly. “I do understand. But how can I help?”
“Can you get me into Ethan’s trailer?”
“Like, have you sneak in?”
Wesley shook his head. “No, if I just randomly go through his stuff that would be an illegal search and anything I find would be thrown out. But if he invites me in, I might find or see something that will give me probably cause to obtain a search warrant…”
“I understand.” She bit her bottom lip and stared at the floor, deep in thought. “I think I’ve got an idea…”
“Oh?”
“Well, with Charles gone we’re going to need another hand around here, right? I mean, we could barely do all the work between the two of us. Ethan will want somebody new before the end of the week. Why not you?”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “That’s brilliant, Fred.”
She blushed. “No, it’s not brilliant. It’s pretty obvious, actually.”
“When do you think you can get me in to see him?”
“I’ll come and get you tomorrow morning.” Fred stood up. “I think I better go now. It’s pretty late.”
“Fred…why did you come to me?”
“There’s nobody else here,” she said simply.
Not the answer that Wesley was dying to hear, but probably the best he could hope for under the circumstances. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“I just want to clear my friends. I know them, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce…”
“Wesley, please.”
“I know them, Wesley. They would never do anything like this.”
Wesley thought about describing all the normal people who would never do anything abnormal at all to her. The woman who would never suffocate her only child because she had a headache. The man who would never hurt his wife, he just wanted to teach her a lesson with several knife wounds. The twelve year old boy who knew the gun was loaded and stared at Wesley with absolutely blank eyes. No, none of them would ever do anything….
“I hope to god you’re right, Fred. I hope you’re right.”
She nodded and shuffled to the door. “Good night,” he said as she slipped out. She waved and shut the door behind her.
#
The abandoned building loomed large in Buffy’s mind as she laid as straight as a board, already a little horrified by what had happened, and more than a bit unsettled by Spike’s warm, sleeping body beside her. When was the last time she had shared a bed with anybody? And why did that question lead her to the abandoned building, no matter how many times she tried to steer her mind away?
“An abandoned building I’ve never seen is all I can think about after an hour of sex…really inappropriate sex. I must be crazy,” she muttered. But was it a building she had never seen? If she had never seen it, then how did she know that the board on the top right window was hanging from a single nail, and the graffiti on the door said Fillo 4-ever?
“Because you’re making it up…”
“Huh?” Spike grunted.
She froze, holding her breath and waiting to see if he was awake. He rolled away from her, onto his side, and settled down again.
Making it up? Maybe, but that didn’t feel right either. Would Willow know? The thought of Willow comforted her slightly. Sure, Willow would know. She had a great memory, and what she couldn’t remember she would look up. She would probably tell her that it was just something from a dream, or a movie, or a book—nothing important. And she might even explain why a completely unimportant and wholly imaginary building would keep her awake at night when she had other, more important things to keep her up all night.
Like the man lying next to her—naked and sweaty and hot—in the bed. Or the things they did and the reasons she let him touch her like that. The reasons were enough to give her insomnia for the rest of her life. Pure lust for his body and the desire for attention were the biggies, and she was not in the habit of jumping into bed with anybody for either reason.
So what the hell had possessed her? Other than his lips…and the rest of him…
Spike rolled over and his arm draped across her stomach. Why had she allowed him to stay? Why didn’t she kick him out? Make him go back to his suite? By the time she had returned to her senses, he was already asleep, and by then, she didn’t want to talk to him. But it made her distinctly uncomfortable. Far, far too intimate. It was one thing to fuck, quite another to spend the night with somebody…and wake up next to them…and maybe have breakfast. How awkward would that be?
Would it be too childish to slip out of bed, steal his room key, and spend the night in his suite? She thought so. Was worry about sleeping in the same bed and sharing breakfast beyond childish and stupid? She thought that was true too.
She needed to worry about one thing and one thing only. Mixing business with pleasure was strictly verboten, and any time, even tomorrow morning, she might have to place Spike under arrest, and then one? Improper conduct charge? Worse? Her mind shied away from fully considering how truly fucked up her actions were, and she let it skitter away without protest. She couldn’t deal with that now. Later. She’d deal later.
“Why are you still awake?” Spike mumbled without opening his eyes. He pulled her against him, folding his body against hers.
Buffy frowned. How could he tell?
“Relax…Elizabeth.”
Buffy hated that name. It was all she could do not to shout “Buffy! Buffy! My name is Buffy!”
He kissed her shoulder and left his lips resting on her skin as his breathing deepened and leveled again. Buffy closed her eyes tightly, determined to relax and sleep. But it was hard to relax when his low breath tickled her skin, and his hard body felt supple against her, and she was a completely different person in his arms.
Maybe what was really keeping her up was the fact that she didn’t really regret it at all. Not in her darkest places where the cold light of logic and reason never penetrated.
The soft knock on the door shocked Wesley out of his light doze and brought him to his feet. He paused, uncertain if somebody was there or if it had just been his imagination. After a silent ten seconds, he heard it again. A gentle tap, tap, tap.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me…Fred…”
Wesley’s eyes widened in surprise, and all threads of exhaustion were blown away by the sound of her voice. He had had a pleasant conversation with her earlier that day, but he didn’t count on any more chances to spend time with her. He thought they would start to get suspicious if they saw him hanging around their trailers all day, every day. Their attempt to be friendly had been a double-edged sword. It allowed him to get the evidence that would probably clear them of the charges, but it also brought undo attention to himself and hindered him.
He opened the door immediately with a smile. “Fred, I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Can I come in?” She asked.
“Of course.” He held the door open and stepped away. She smiled shyly as she walked past, and he could tell just from the slope of her body and her smile that she was very nervous about something. Skittish even. Like if he said the wrong thing, she would flee and never return. “Can I help you with something?”
“Do you have anything to drink?”
“Water…I could go down the hallway and get a Coke.”
“No, I mean something hard. Like whiskey.”
Wesley smiled faintly and held his arms open apologetically. “Fresh out.”
“That’s ok then.” She buried her hands in her pockets and looked everywhere but at him.
Wes pointed at the chair. “Would you like to have a seat?”
“I think I want to stand…no, I better sit. I’m feeling a little light-headed and I was always told to put my head between my knees. Well, I’m not feeling that light-headed, not yet. I might after we finish talking. Or after Ethan finds out I was here…he wouldn’t like it if he knew I was here. He has a strict rule about these things and if he finds out about your wife…oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so thoughtless…”
Wesley held up his hand. “Fred, Fred, Fred, calm down. Take a deep breath. That’s it. Here, maybe you had better take a seat. Feel betting now?”
She looked up at him with wide eyes and nodded. “Yeah, sometimes I get a little excited. And when I do, I ramble.” She smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He sat on the chair across from her and leaned over the table. “So what do you need to talk to me about?”
“I was talking to Charles and we were discussing leaving, and Ethan overheard us somehow. I don’t know how, I thought we were alone. Anyway, we’ve been talking about it for a few days now, you know? Charles thinks it would be better for both of us if we go…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. But Ethan was angry…”
“Did he threaten you?” Wesley asked, remembering what Buffy had told him about Cordelia.
“Not physically, he was just…Really, really angry.” She looked at him a little helplessly. “I don’t know how to describe it.”
“Well, what happened?”
“Charles left. He said he didn’t have to take that shit from anybody. He already had his truck packed. He just left.”
“He left without you?” Wesley asked, surprised. He knew they were not a couple, but Fred was probably Gunn’s best friend…perhaps his only friend in the world.
“He wanted me to come but…”
“Fred, why didn’t you?” He longed for her to say something, anything that would make her look better. Even if she were simply afraid of what Ethan would do if she left. That would be a good enough reason for him.
“I can’t…I don’t want to talk about it.”
Slowly, he put his hand across the table and covered hers. “Fred, I want to help you. And I will do anything I can, but I have to know what you need from me.”
“I don’t want to leave, not really. Ethan takes good care of us, he pays us well, I get to travel around the country, and I’m good at my job. I enjoy what I do. I’m helping people.”
Wesley gaped at her. “You can’t possibly believe that, can you?” He exclaimed.
She looked at him oddly. “You don’t believe it?”
“I…”
“No, I can see it on your face. You don’t believe it, do you? Then why are you here?”
Wesley held up his hands. “Ok, you’re right. I don’t believe it. I’ll make a deal with you, right? I’ll be one hundred percent honest with you if you extend me the same courtesy. Deal?”
This was a calculated risk that Wesley knew could pay off big or blow up in his face so badly that it destroys his entire career.
“Deal. You go first.”
Wesley took a deep breath. “You were right about one thing, I don’t believe in what you’re doing. It’s a scam, Fred, a fraud, and we both know it.” He paused and waited for her to protest, but she didn’t say anything. “My name is not John Smith. It’s Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Federal Agent.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re investigating us?”
“Yes and no. There have been four women murdered in the past several months, and the only pattern we could find is the Rayne of Love Ministry and Revival. So my partner and I…”
“Elizabeth?”
“Yes. Her name is Buffy Summers. We were assigned to the case and have spent the last two weeks following your show. When nothing happened, we decided to move our investigation closer.” He released his breath and waited for her angry response. He wouldn’t blame her. He would be angry in her shoes.
“Nobody here is a killer, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce,” she informed him tightly.
Wesley shrugged. “I don’t have any convincing evidence either way. But I’m telling you this because you’re not a suspect.”
“What about Charles?”
“No, he’s not either. Now it’s your turn.”
“My revelation isn’t quite as heavy as yours.” She took a deep breath. “I know that Angel can’t heal anybody and that Spike can’t talk to the dead. Of course they can’t, that’s why they need me. But I still think I’m helping people. Sometimes all a person has left is hope, and we give them that.”
“And sometimes a person needs legitimate medical attention,” Wesley interjected.
She ignored him and continued. “I met Ethan when I was just finishing my Master’s degree. Yeah, I have a Master’s, and I work as a shill and gopher for a traveling ministry. I know I could do greater things, but something happened when I finished school…I just…snapped.” She smiled and adjusted her glasses. “Went crazy. Ethan offered a chance to escape the real world.”
“How long have you been living in your own world, Fred?”
“Five years. But this is a completely different world than the real world. They’re my family now, and I haven’t been crazy in a long time.”
“Your family? I see. Does that mean you wouldn’t be willing to help me?”
Fred jumped back as though he had poked her with a cattle prod. “You want me to turn in my friends? The only people who care about me?”
He shook his head, “No. But I’m treading water here, Fred. If it is a member of the ministry, then we have to get them before the next tour of shows start. And if it’s not? Then there’s a murderer out there right now and I’m wasting my time and a girl could pay for my mistake with her life. Now I’ll understand if you don’t want to help, but I hope you understand the situation I’m in.”
She nodded slowly. “I do understand. But how can I help?”
“Can you get me into Ethan’s trailer?”
“Like, have you sneak in?”
Wesley shook his head. “No, if I just randomly go through his stuff that would be an illegal search and anything I find would be thrown out. But if he invites me in, I might find or see something that will give me probably cause to obtain a search warrant…”
“I understand.” She bit her bottom lip and stared at the floor, deep in thought. “I think I’ve got an idea…”
“Oh?”
“Well, with Charles gone we’re going to need another hand around here, right? I mean, we could barely do all the work between the two of us. Ethan will want somebody new before the end of the week. Why not you?”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “That’s brilliant, Fred.”
She blushed. “No, it’s not brilliant. It’s pretty obvious, actually.”
“When do you think you can get me in to see him?”
“I’ll come and get you tomorrow morning.” Fred stood up. “I think I better go now. It’s pretty late.”
“Fred…why did you come to me?”
“There’s nobody else here,” she said simply.
Not the answer that Wesley was dying to hear, but probably the best he could hope for under the circumstances. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“I just want to clear my friends. I know them, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce…”
“Wesley, please.”
“I know them, Wesley. They would never do anything like this.”
Wesley thought about describing all the normal people who would never do anything abnormal at all to her. The woman who would never suffocate her only child because she had a headache. The man who would never hurt his wife, he just wanted to teach her a lesson with several knife wounds. The twelve year old boy who knew the gun was loaded and stared at Wesley with absolutely blank eyes. No, none of them would ever do anything….
“I hope to god you’re right, Fred. I hope you’re right.”
She nodded and shuffled to the door. “Good night,” he said as she slipped out. She waved and shut the door behind her.
#
The abandoned building loomed large in Buffy’s mind as she laid as straight as a board, already a little horrified by what had happened, and more than a bit unsettled by Spike’s warm, sleeping body beside her. When was the last time she had shared a bed with anybody? And why did that question lead her to the abandoned building, no matter how many times she tried to steer her mind away?
“An abandoned building I’ve never seen is all I can think about after an hour of sex…really inappropriate sex. I must be crazy,” she muttered. But was it a building she had never seen? If she had never seen it, then how did she know that the board on the top right window was hanging from a single nail, and the graffiti on the door said Fillo 4-ever?
“Because you’re making it up…”
“Huh?” Spike grunted.
She froze, holding her breath and waiting to see if he was awake. He rolled away from her, onto his side, and settled down again.
Making it up? Maybe, but that didn’t feel right either. Would Willow know? The thought of Willow comforted her slightly. Sure, Willow would know. She had a great memory, and what she couldn’t remember she would look up. She would probably tell her that it was just something from a dream, or a movie, or a book—nothing important. And she might even explain why a completely unimportant and wholly imaginary building would keep her awake at night when she had other, more important things to keep her up all night.
Like the man lying next to her—naked and sweaty and hot—in the bed. Or the things they did and the reasons she let him touch her like that. The reasons were enough to give her insomnia for the rest of her life. Pure lust for his body and the desire for attention were the biggies, and she was not in the habit of jumping into bed with anybody for either reason.
So what the hell had possessed her? Other than his lips…and the rest of him…
Spike rolled over and his arm draped across her stomach. Why had she allowed him to stay? Why didn’t she kick him out? Make him go back to his suite? By the time she had returned to her senses, he was already asleep, and by then, she didn’t want to talk to him. But it made her distinctly uncomfortable. Far, far too intimate. It was one thing to fuck, quite another to spend the night with somebody…and wake up next to them…and maybe have breakfast. How awkward would that be?
Would it be too childish to slip out of bed, steal his room key, and spend the night in his suite? She thought so. Was worry about sleeping in the same bed and sharing breakfast beyond childish and stupid? She thought that was true too.
She needed to worry about one thing and one thing only. Mixing business with pleasure was strictly verboten, and any time, even tomorrow morning, she might have to place Spike under arrest, and then one? Improper conduct charge? Worse? Her mind shied away from fully considering how truly fucked up her actions were, and she let it skitter away without protest. She couldn’t deal with that now. Later. She’d deal later.
“Why are you still awake?” Spike mumbled without opening his eyes. He pulled her against him, folding his body against hers.
Buffy frowned. How could he tell?
“Relax…Elizabeth.”
Buffy hated that name. It was all she could do not to shout “Buffy! Buffy! My name is Buffy!”
He kissed her shoulder and left his lips resting on her skin as his breathing deepened and leveled again. Buffy closed her eyes tightly, determined to relax and sleep. But it was hard to relax when his low breath tickled her skin, and his hard body felt supple against her, and she was a completely different person in his arms.
Maybe what was really keeping her up was the fact that she didn’t really regret it at all. Not in her darkest places where the cold light of logic and reason never penetrated.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
Thou be my God.
about a cliff hanger.Please when are you going to update.I am bitting at the bit.You know how I am.I love you work,I love your writing.Please dont make me suffer.Everyday I check to see if this story has been updated.As always you are the best,and you know I am not blowing smoke.