They Did Not Fade Away
By Hephaestus
Page 5 of 6
Disclaimer: Joss owns all. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Chapter 21
Angel drove at almost twice the speed limit. He had to get away from her, from whatever heartbreaking words she was about to say. He realized with pain that he had no where to go. He had a key to Will's place, and there was still the apartment in the Wolfram and Hart building that he used to live in, but he would be found very quickly if he went to either of those places. He wanted to disappear for a while.
Pulling into the parking deck of the law firm, he exchanged the car he was driving for a nondescript black Honda Civic. He had a few cars that he used if he wanted to remain anonymous. Jaguars and BMWs were noticed easily when he went slumming.
That's what Will called it. Not that Will had any room to comment on where Angel went to drink. A lot of the bars Angel liked to frequent were also places that Will played at. It was a well kept secret that Vice President of Wolfram and Hart preformed music, both original and covered, with his old acoustic at bars in LA. Angel always thought Will did great Nirvana covers.
The Blue Turtle was one of Angel's favorite bars, and where he came to drink when he wanted to so alone. Not even Will knew about this place. It was dark, quiet, no one bothered him, and the bartender kept a few bottles of grade A Irish whiskey around. Taking a seat at a small table in the back, the waitress came up with a knowing smile. She had waited on Angel many times.
"Haven't seen you in a while."
"Been busy. The Usual."
She nodded. He never was one much for conversation. She brought a four finger glass of whiskey to him, leaving the bottle on the table. One bottle was over a hundred dollars, and he could go through two or three a week when he wanted to. He stopped her before she could leave.
"Bring me a pack of Lucky Strikes, would you?"
She nodded again and left to get his cigarettes. He had smoked off and on since the 1920s, and Lucky Strike had been the first brand he tried. There had only been about three brands of cigarettes back then, he thought. How things had changed.
He settled in his seat, ready to get good and truly drunk. He been operating with an almost permanent buzz for nearly a year, and had been drunk on a good many occasions. Tonight, however, he would consider it a failure if he could stand or see. He wanted to crawl inside a bottle and stay there for the foreseeable future.
Lighting a cigarette with the lighter she had left on the table next to the pack, he started into the bottle of Jameson's with enthusiasm. He planned to crawl out of the bar later that night.
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Chapter 22
When Fred and Gunn arrived, they were a little taken aback at the site of a slayer who had obviously been crying a great deal. Giles was sitting on the couch as far away from Buffy as he could get, his arms crossed across his chest. He didn't look too much better than Buffy. Will was trying to get him to put an icepack on his cheek, which looked rather purplish.
Wesley was in the kitchen, taking the roast from the oven. The formal dining room was set for ten, but it didn't look like dinner was going to happen anytime soon. The mood of the room was somber at best. Buffy looked catatonic and Giles looked ready to fall on a stake.
Fred was the first to speak. "So... you guys had a great night. Where's Angel, or do I not want to know?" She crossed her arms. The movement pulled her shirt up a little, revealing the slightest bulging of her abdomen beneath her jacket. She was already starting to show. She and Wesley had celebrated her making to the fourth month a few days previous.
Gunn sighed, knowing the answer to Fred's question was not going to be a good one. He was relieved when it was Wes that answered. He was leaning on the partition that separated the big open kitchen from the family room. He didn't look happy.
"Letters. Buffy and Angel found out why she didn't receive any he sent. Chaos ensued." He spoke with such dryness, it was hard to tell if he was annoyed or not at the situation.
Will was defiantly annoyed. "Jeeves here is a f*k up. After he told us that, we forgave him. Angel almost forgave him. Buffy kicked the crap out of him. Angel ran out of here like he was being chased by Bachala demons."
Gunn almost appreciated the Bachala, or soul-eater, demon joke. Almost. Mostly he was just pissed off. He couldn't think of a more articulate term at the moment than that. He was angry that Angel couldn't get a little peace, he was mad that the entrance of the Slayer and crew into their lives had been more of an upset than it had been a help. Gunn knew it was ridiculous, but he blamed Buffy for Angel's collapse, though that had been a long time coming. He blamed Giles for Angel's depression, which was warranted, but mostly he blamed himself for not helping his friend sooner.
Gunn had always thought of Angel as the strong one, the one that did whatever he had to do to get things done. The man that could meet any challenge, no matter how difficult. It wasn't until recently that Gunn had discovered that Angel wasn't Superman. He was just Angel. He was a guy that needed his friends, a guy that needed this tiny little brunette woman and most of all, a guy that needed to take a break from being everybody's hero.
Gunn turned as the door to the foyer opened. Willow, Dawn and Xander had arrived. Dawn dropped everything in her hands when she saw the state of everyone in the living room. This was not how their night was supposed to be, she thought. This was supposed to be a wonderful night. They were all going to have dinner together. She had wanted to get to know Fred better; she wanted to pump Wes for information on books he had. She wanted to catch up with Angel, hear about the man he had become. Instead, it looked like they were all going to fight.
Indeed, Dawn was right. Fred threw the first verbal punch. Her unfaltering attack of Giles had Willow up in arms. The red head witch was furious with Giles, but she wouldn't stand for anyone to attack him the way Fred was. Willow's yelling made Gunn get involved in defending Angel, which prompted Xander to start screaming in turn about some very unsavory events that had happened in Sunnydale.
Dawn stood next to Will and Wes, who had decided to be still. Buffy felt her sisters' hand on her shoulder, a comforting presence in a sea of uncertainty. Angel's cell phone was off, and no one had an idea of where he was. The night guard at the company reported Angel wasn't there, and Will's neighbor said he hadn't gone to his friend's apartment either. Which meant he was probably in a bar working on getting himself entirely under the table.
Giles said nothing in his defense. He knew his actions were indefensible. Instead, he tried to get Willow to stop yelling at Fred. When this didn't work, he settled back in the couch, a miserable look on his face. The road to hell, he thought.
Wesley attempted to calm his wife once or twice, but was met with a glare that could make men burst into flames where they stood. Sometimes he wondered about who he was looking at, Fred or Illyria. If he had to make a choice in that moment, he would have said he was talking to Illyria. She had Fred's ferocious loyalty to Angel, but Illyria's icy accusing tone to her voice. If he could have taped the fight and studied it later he would have. That would lead to certain death, though, he was sure.
Will calmly walked into the kitchen and got two pots from a cabinet. He took his time walking back into the room, then proceeded to bang the pots together with strength that made everyone cover their ears. When he was sure they weren't going to be yelling again for the next few minutes, he ceased his banging. The pots would never be the same.
"Well, this is amusing, but I have to tell you all, also pointless. Angel is in a bar somewhere getting completely tossed and we're sitting here screaming at each other. And the people that should be screaming aren't. If Buffy and Giles can behave civilly, you lot should be able to as well. Now shut the hell up, all of you.
Giles screwed up. Big time. However, Buffy and Angel are reunited and will soon be shacking up and starting to breed their own little league team. So, that's not an issue. If we had a time machine, I'm not sure Giles could beat any one of us to it. Right? He's not the first one in this room to be a total ass. Not pointing fingers or passing judgment, just wanted to remind everybody. Let's focus on the here and now, not what idiots we all were back in Sunnydale. None of us who were there can say they didn't screw up back then. Time to move on, kids."
Buffy's voice was raspy and quiet when she spoke. "I want to find Angel. I want everyone to stop yelling. I want to have a nice Christmas. In that order."
"Willow, try a locator spell. He's probably cloaking himself, but it's worth a shot. Gunn and Will, get out there and look for him. Will, you know where he likes to go. Dawn, Buffy, get some air away from everybody. Xander, help me make sandwiches. We can salvage dinner and we still all need to eat." Wesley finished dishing out orders and made his way into the kitchen.
Xander followed grudgingly. He didn't take orders and he didn't make sandwiches. Stopping himself, he shook his head at those thoughts. Good of the team, he reminded himself. And if Wes can make sandwiches, so can I. Be helpful.
Dawn and Buffy went to the patio. Fred followed. Buffy wasn't sure why she listened to Wes, but she couldn't think of anything batter to do anyway. Looking at Fred, she knew the woman was not going to apologize. Everything Fred had said was true. It wasn't nice, but it was true.
"We'll find him, Buffy. He might need his stomach pumped from I what I hear, but we'll find him. What made him run out, anyway?"
"I think he thought I was mad at him. I read the letters he sent me. I guess he thought... he thought I would be offended."
Fred took a deep breath and absently put her hands on her stomach. "He's sensitive about those. Regretted them. Not writing to you, but what he said in them sometimes. After the last one, he was sure you would never forgive him. He never said what was in that letter, but he said it was bad."
Buffy let out a combination of a snort and a laugh. "Yeah, it wasn't very nice. But... I mean, I understand that. He thought I was ignoring him for three years. Or Two plus years, at the time he wrote that. I wouldn't have been very nice either." She looked at Fred, who was contemplating one of the hanging plants. "How far along are you?"
She turned quickly, a violent angle to her body. "What?"
"Uhh... sorry. I didn't know that topic was off limits."
Dawn's eyes widened and looked a little closer at Fred. Definite baby bump, she thought. Buffy was still observant, even half crazed with grief. Dawn was a little impressed with her big sister.
"It's not off limits. I just haven't told anyone yet. Well, Wes and I haven't told anyone. It's our third try." The look in Fred's eyes was pained even if the set of her jaw was harsh.
"I'm sorry." Buffy was truly sorry for the woman. She felt an awful pang of guilt as a fleeting thought went through her head. At least someone else's life isn't easy. She regretted the thought as soon as it had flitted through her mind. She hated feeling better about her life because someone else was in pain. It was a disconcerting comfort.
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Chapter 23
Spike burst into the office. His head was shaved and he looked like he had seen a ghost. Or an army of ghosts.
"What can I do for you Spike?"
"That isn't my name anymore." The younger ex-vampire was pacing back in forth in front of Angel's desk. Angel could hear the construction outside the office door; the crews were trying to fix the devastation that had been wrought on the building.
"What should I call you?" Angel leaned back in his chair, ready to talk the no longer bleach blonde off of any ledge he had managed to climb up to this time.
"I don't know. I know I'm not Spike, though. He killed people, he..." He ran his hands over his smooth head. Earlier in the day, he had shaved the hair that made him so recognizable and then proceeded to smash every mirror in the apartment Angel had helped him sublet. His knuckles had already started to heal.
Angel knew what was bothering the man. He was going through the same thing Angel had gone through after getting his soul. Angel had had time to deal with that, and to deal with the thought of being human. He even had a day when he was human as reference. Spike had no experience in any of this. The years with his soul had been spent convincing himself he didn't want it. The younger man was now to a point that knew he was stuck with it and had no idea what that meant.
"What about William? Your given name?"
"He was a ponce. And I don't want to be called Billy or Bill or any o' that nonsense."
"Will, then. What about Will?"
"Will? That's not bad. I mean, I can't think of any other human name I really like. But, Angel... I'm human. Almost. What do I do with this?" The look of desperation in Will's eyes made Angel's heart wrench. And he barely liked the man.
"I'm ordering papers. Social Security cards, birth certificates, passports, drivers licenses, everything, for both of us. We'll have lives and histories that have nothing to do with reality but which will serve us better than reality. You'll be an immigrant from England. I moved here from Ireland when I was a kid. Our parents are deceased. No living family. I've got us covered."
"I'm grateful. I am... but I meant what I do with these nightmares, with the faces I see, with... with the guilt. How do you do it? How you live with this? I mean, it hurt before, but now... it doesn't compare to the pain of before. I thought I had this handled already."
"It's permanent now. It's not something you sought out or bought, it's something you earned. You can't get rid of it now, it's you. There is no Spike anymore. He can never come back. No one can take this away from you, turn you into a monster again. It's a big realization. And you didn't deal with it before, you joked about it. Now you have to look at yourself every day and really deal with it."
He sat down hard. "I need a job."
"Covered that too. You start now. Your office is down the hall, I'll have your name put on it by the end of the day. Go through the paperwork on your desk; let me know what you think. Two clients are coming in later; I'll send them to you. Make sure they stay with the company. And change your clothes; you looked like a grunge rocker."
"Thought of everything, huh?"
"Tried to."
He was standing in Will's old apartment, the one he had before Angel had forced him to move into a better area. He was picking away at old guitar while Angel opened two more beers in the kitchen. They were both a little drunk. Will had been playing his own originals, music that no ear other than Wills', and possibly the prying neighbor down the hall, had ever heard. Angel liked it.
"Anyway, that's as far as I got so far. It's not great, but I guess it's not to shabby."
"I like it. I like it a lot."
Will was stunned. Angel had always told him how crappy his writing was. Except for that one moment of truthfulness last year right before Will's Barry Manilow comment, he thought. Angelus had complained to no end about his incessant writings. "You like it? You hate my writing. And my singing. You hate everything I do like that."
"No I don't. I like your poetry, I like your music. I never said I didn't." Sitting on the couch, he plucked a couple of the strings of Will's spare guitar leaning nest to him.
"Angelus always..."
"I'm not Angelus. He was an asshole. I like your stuff."
"Oh... that changes... well, that changes my whole life. Not that I need your approval, mind you. I don't give a bollocks about you think, in fact. I'm just surprised."
He nodded. He really did think Will was a good writer, he always had been. And he played a mean guitar rift. Will never had anyone honestly like his work, but he hadn't shared it with many people either.
"You should play at bars. People would like it. You can sing Cobain like no one else. Really, you'd like it."
He seemed to consider it, but decided against venturing any further into those waters. "Teach me to act like a businessman and I'll think about it. This whole working thing is all new to me. I can't pilfer things from the street anymore."
"Teach me to play the guitar."
"Deal."
Angel's vision cleared as he blinked a few times. Drunken flashbacks were his least favorite part of drinking. His head was leaning against the wall behind him. He was completely immersed in a fog of booze now. Half the bottle was gone and it hadn't taken him very long. A band was playing on the stage and they weren't half bad. He had turned away three women already, and he was sure more would try to seduce him before he called a taxi to leave.
Rubbing a hand through his hair, he realized that he could still see and could probably walk too. That wasn't good. He wanted to kill brain cells. Lots of them. He was hoping that his memory cells would be the first to go. He figured he could do without most of those.
Visions of Buffy danced through his head. He saw her as she was during the day that didn't exist. He saw her today, on top of him shimmying to make him laugh. She was in high school, wearing short dresses and ridiculous shoes. She was in a white dress, being revived by Xander on prom night.
Lighting another cigarette, he made sure his glass was full. He wasn't so drunk to start chugging from the bottle yet.
He remembered Spike when he was William, a devastatingly shy poet with corkscrew curls who smelled of his sniffing salts. He cringed with the memories of what he had turned that man into. He had created a monster in his own image, and just as Spike was coming into his own as a master of cruelty and torture, a soul was thrust upon Angel by gypsies.
Spike had been such a pain in the ass. As Angelus, he had regretted the creation of his grand-spawn more than once. Now, though, that pain in the ass was his best friend. After he had slowly starting pushing Wesley away, he had gravitated towards Will. His honestly, carefully hidden intelligence, and willingness to listen had endeared Angel to him quickly.
Wesley. That was a puzzle, wasn't he, he asked himself. The man that had thought he was going to kill Connor. The man who had basically given Connor to Holtz and had his neck slit in the process. Angel found himself looking for the scar that wasn't there sometimes. Angel didn't know if he would ever forgive Wes for taking Connor from him. For not talking to him, explaining the situation, asking for help. Wesley was too proud to admit he was scared and needed another set of eyes. In those days, Angel would called Giles for help.
Connor, his son. His beautiful, brilliant, son. He was so proud of Connor. His son had his artistic talents; even if he used them to clean paintings instead of create them. Just as well, Angel thought, he didn't care what his son did as long as he was happy. And he was happy. He had no memory of his part in the fight with Wolfram and Hart. As far as Connor knew, he was an exceptionally healthy young man with a predilection for athleticism.
Angel almost cried into his drink thinking about Connor. Instead, he drank more. He was going to finish the bottle, he decided. And then he was going to order another. He crushed the last of his cigarette. He was through half the pack. He'd be done with it by the end of the night. The bar closed at five in the morning. Angel figured it was close to midnight now. He'd been drinking since nine. He had a long way to go, yet.
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Chapter 24
The sun was coming up. They had checked most of the watering holes Will knew about, but Angel hadn't been in any of them. Buffy hadn't slept all night. Wes and Fred had gone home, as had Gunn. Will had stayed at Angels'. It would have too weird for the slayer crew to stay there without some member of the LA gang there as well. They already felt a little like interlopers.
The five previous Sunnydale residents all felt a little guilty. They had been at Angel's house for three nights now and there didn't seem to be an end in sight. Will assured them it was no trouble, but none of them were really convinced. Willow had tried to offer to buy groceries but Will had laughed, saying Angel had nothing to spend his money on but booze anyway, and that it wasn't at all a burden.
Giles had mentioned that he was returning to England soon. The first flight he could get, he said. The holidays were going to slow him down, but even so he would probably be gone by the end of the week. Willow had to get back as well but she didn't particularly want to go until after Christmas. Dawn had no where to be for the next two weeks, until the semester started again, and Xander had no where to be period. He had no ties in Africa. He had designed it that way, so he could leave whenever he needed to.
Xander felt more lost than he had in a long time. He loved Buffy. He had come to empathize with Angel and knew he had the potential to like the man. He was mad at Giles, but the novelty of that feeling had passed shortly after they had arrived in LA. Xander didn't agree with Giles, but wasn't sure he would have done anything differently if he had been in the other mans' shoes.
Xander felt bad for all parties involved. He would have chosen a side if there were sides to take, but everyone just seemed to want Buffy and Angel to get together and be happy. That sounded good to Xander. Buffy happy was a lot better than Buffy sad. Buffy had two modes when she was sad: suicidal and homicidal. There wasn't a lot of in between with her, he thought.
Angel was having a very hard of it, Xander knew. The poor guy had been stomped on and beat up, chewed on and spit out and he was still standing. He was wobbling a little, but on his feet none the less. The fact that Angel hadn't come back last night made Xander a little nervous. He was surprised to realize that he was nervous not only for Buffy, but for Angel. The guy was actually kind of lovable.
The night had been spent sitting in the living room, Will telling stories of the past four years, since he had come back from the dead the first time. He had all of them in stitches telling them about the time Angel had been turned into a puppet. There hadn't been a dry eye in the room when he told them about Cordy's goodbye to Angel and the vision she had given him.
Xander had been on the edge of his seat, along with everyone else, during the story of the final battle with Wolfram and Hart. Will had told them everything Angel had told him of this time in the hell dimension killing the senior partners. Will was a great story teller. Xander had been a little surprised at some of the stories. Will's first Halloween at Wolfram and Hart had him howling with laughter and cringing at the same time.
Will's tales made Xander feel for the LA group. Especially Fred's story. Will told that one with a little apprehension. It certainly explained a lot, though, especially for Willow, who had known Fred before her blue phase.
The LA gang had been through quite a lot in the past few years. Not that Xander felt his friends' lives had been easy. The slayer school, with its 500 members, the Buffy decoys in Rome and Barcelona, the training in Africa, all of it had been difficult. But that seemed manageable compared to the loads of manure the LA gang had waded through.
At the current moment, Xander was lying in a bed in one of the two guest houses behind the main house. He had slept a little. Around four in the morning he had admitted defeat and gone to bed. Dawn was still wide eyed, content to talk to Will for the rest of day if she could. Willow was dozing where sat and Xander had helped her upstairs to a guest bedroom before heading to his own room. Giles had disappeared around three in the morning. He was staying in the room adjacent to Xander's, and Xander had checked in just to make sure the Watcher hadn't offed himself while they weren't looking.
Giles had been sleeping, if fitfully, when Xander noiselessly cracked the door to his room and peaked in. His heart went out to Giles. The man's love for Buffy had caused a lot of heartache. Xander wasn't sure if the motives or the actions were more important. Since he couldn't figure that out, he was hard pressed to judge Giles very harshly.
Looking at the clock, he sighed. It was only twenty minutes since he had laid down. He had been so tired and now that he had the opportunity to sleep, his mind wouldn't be quiet. He wondered if anyone was sleeping.
Dawn wasn't. She was staring into the bright blue eyes of a man who had captured her imagination for over four hours now. She had always been fond of him, but now she realized that she was perhaps a little more than fond. He was sweet, funny, he spoke beautifully, and his heart was larger than it had any right to be.
The men, boys, she corrected herself, at college were nice. Some even knew of the existence of demons and vampires and the like. None of them knew her sister was the slayer, and none of them would have believed her if they had known. She had been finding it difficult to connect seriously to any of them. Dawn had a couple of boyfriends since starting college, and had rid her self of her virginity not long after her first semester started, but she couldn't commit to any of them.
Normally, a guy would come on to her, she would flirt back and they ended up dating a few days later. She didn't sleep with many of them, but she didn't believe in waiting to find 'the one' either. She wanted to experience everything she could as much as she could as soon as possible. She never knew when the world was going to end.
She mentally checked herself. This was Will, Angel's best friends and her sister's ex-boyfriend. He had baby sat her. The man in front of her was Spike, she chided herself, the funny and sarcastic peroxide user that had gotten so under everyone's skin. Yet, it wasn't that man. He was still funny, and she sensed he could get under their skin still if he wanted to, but the difference between this man and Spike was that this man didn't want to. He didn't want to drive everyone nuts. He was more focused with keeping peace and avoiding a nuclear fallout called Buffy and Angel.
She liked this man. She liked him a lot. He was cute. His eyes were the best shade of blue, he looked like he was ripped under those clothes, and his smile was disarming. And he had slept with her sister. That gave her pause, but not much. They seemed okay with their past relationship. And Will was okay with the fact that Buffy and Angel were banging boots again. If he was okay with that, Buffy should be okay if Dawn decided she wanted to bang boots with Will. At least that was what Dawn reasoned. When she was honest with herself, though, she knew that she could never reason out what her sister was going to do. Buffy was like a tornado, she changed trajectories quickly.
She smiled at Will, flipping her hair a little. She knew she was pretty. She had matured into a woman and had the curves to prove it. Her hair was a little shorter and a little lighter than it had been. She still had a cute quality to her face, but her cheek bones were more pronounced and with the right red lipstick she looked downright wanton. She wondered what qualities Will liked in his women. Their kids would have blue eyes, she thought. She froze at that. What part of her brain had conjured that, she wondered.
Will watched Dawn's face change. She had thought of something that shocked her. He hadn't said anything to warrant that reaction, but then again, she hadn't been paying attention to him for almost ten minutes. He tried to figure out what she was thinking, but those blue eyes gave nothing away. It was the twitches of her jaw that acted as her tell.
She had grown into a fine woman. She was beautiful, intelligent, and seemed a lot more fun loving than she had back in the day. Her hips had flared out. And she was suddenly looking at him as if he were a Chippendale dancer. Huge warning lights were going off in his head. A voice somewhere in his brain started screaming danger, Will Robinson, danger.
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