Chapter 11
Giles
My flight lands in LA because it is two hundred dollars cheaper than
landing in Sunnydale. Besides, there's someone I want to find while I'm
here. Good thing I know someone who owns a detective agency.
I have never been to the Hyperion before. In fact I didn't even have
the address, had to look up Angel Investigations in the phone book.
Somehow the enormous empty building seems fitting for Angel, a sad
looking exterior with the promise of danger on the inside. How ever
does he afford the rent on this place?
The lobby is large and meticulously clean and I wonder if Angel has
employed a full maid service as well. I wander through the lobby
yelling out greetings, but am met by silence although I catch a small
movement out of the corner of my eye.
"Hello, name is Rupert Giles. I'm a...friend of Angel's," my throat
gets stuck around the word friend. Angel and I are absolutely not
friends and we will never be. I still have nightmares about finding
Jenny's body in my bed. I still hate myself for not dis-inviting him
from my house. I still hate him for all the things Angelus did. After
all, he may be Angel with the soul but I know that Angelus in still in
there lurking beneath the surface.
I see a girl trying to hide behind the handrail of the staircase.
"A-angel's not here. All gone out," she says quickly. "I didn't go.
Can't go out, too loud, the equations don't work."
"I see. Do you know when he'll be back?"
"Back before dawn," she answers.
I'm walking the stairs slowly, trying not to startle her. It doesn't
work and she takes off down the hallway, darting into an open door. She
doesn't shut the door behind her and I follow her. The walls of the
room are completely covered in mathematical equations and crude
drawings. The girl is huddled in the corner absentmindedly drawing on
the wall.
"What are you drawing?" I ask.
She frowns a moment. "Pylea. I was stuck there. I was stuck there
because the equations couldn't add up, but Angel rescued me. He helps
the helpless. I was helpless and he helped me, brought me back here.
They have tacos here."
"I see. What's your name?"
"Fred-Winafred Burkle, pleased to meet you," she says.
"Pleased to meet you, Fred. My name is Giles. What are your equations
for?"
"Equations for interdimensional travel. The numbers didn't add up in
Pylea because I had half the equation. Can't solve half an equation,
you need all the numbers...well, you can solve half the equation but
only if you have the first half and the answer and then you can figure
out the middle, but I didn't have that," Fred says.
A door slams in the lobby and voices float up the hall.
"Back," Fred says. "I hope they brought tacos."
I walk back toward the lobby with Fred in tow and meet Cordelia on the
stairs.
"Oh! Giles, what are you doing here?"
"Nice to see you too Cordelia. I must speak with Angel."
"You know, he's a little busy right now but how about I take a message
and he'll get back to you?" She holds up her thumb and forefinger to
emphasis the word little. "Fred, we got you tacos! Yummy, crunchy,
million calorie tacos and all you need to do is come out of your room
to eat them! What do you say?"
"Now, see here," I interrupt her. "I must speak with Angel immediately
and unless he is in the middle of an Apocalypse I see no reason why he
cannot see me."
"You're tying me up! I'm the mother of your child and you're tying me
up! When I get out of here I'm going to drain every last one of your
humans dry, starting with little miss fashion plate!" A female voice
yelled.
"That's why he can't see you," Cordelia said.
I follow Cordelia down the stairs and am shocked by what I see.
"Good lord, is that-"
"Darla," Cordelia finishes at the same time Angel looks at me and says,
"Giles."
"But vampires can't, Good Lord...I-I-I thought she was-"
"Dust," a young black man says. "Apparently, she's been undusted."
Oh, good lord.
XXX
Tara
Buffy's not at work when I stop by to see her and the manager tells me
that she called for the second day in a row. That worries me because I
know that Buffy can't afford not to go to work. I stop at the grocery
store on the way to her house and pick up a loaf of bread and two bulk
containers of peanut butter and jelly. It's not much, but I know Buffy
hasn't eaten and it's all I can really afford.
I thought that after I told Willow about Dawn being taken away that she
would want to rush out and help Buffy, and she was
worried. It's the most distressed I've seen her in the past couple of
months. Yet, she still didn't call Buffy. She called Xander and told
him what was going on. I overheard them discussing what they should do
and they both decided that maybe Dawn was better off with
someone else, someone that didn't have so much violence in their life.
I love Willow, I really do, but she's turning into someone I don't
know.
The house is quiet when I enter. I thought about knocking, but I didn't
think that Buffy would actually open the door.
"Buffy!" I yell.
"She's sleepin'."
Spike startles me and I drop the bag of groceries onto the floor. Thank
Goddess for plastic. I bend down to pick up the jar of peanut butter
that has rolled out of the bag.
"I--is she okay...considering?" I ask.
Spike sighs and shakes his head. He walks over to the back door and
peeks through the curtains, twirling a cigarette between his fingers.
His lips purse together at the bright sunshine and he turns back to
face me.
"Not doing well at all. She's lost her sister and been abandoned by her
friends. She's not eating, barely making ends meet, and..." he trails
off.
"And," I prod.
"'S nothing."
"Spike?" Buffy's voice filters down the hallway and both of us move
toward the sound. She's standing on the stairs wearing nothing but a
t-shirt, sans bra, and I suddenly notice how gorgeous she is. I quickly
avert my eyes and try to focus my thoughts on Willow.
"Hey, luv. You need something?" Spike asks placing a hand on her waist.
It's a cautious move, like when you're in the beginning of a
relationship and you want to touch the person and you think they want
you to touch them but you're not really sure of where the boundaries
are.
I notice something at that point. Lately, Buffy's aura has been...off.
It's hard to explain that to people who don't see auras, but trust me
when I tell you that the colors have been...depressing colors. It's
worried me. When she came down the stairs, the colors were the darkest
I've ever seen her have and I was expecting that because of what
happened yesterday, but...the moment Spike touched her and their eyes
met, her colors lightened. I don't mean to say that they suddenly
lightened to the point of extreme happiness, but the colors of
depression were...less. That doesn't really explain it either, but it's
the best that I can do.
"Tara?" Buffy notices me then and I raise the bag of food in her
direction.
"Hi, I-I brought you something to eat...It's not much, but..." I trail
off.
"I-I'm not hungry, but thank you," she murmurs.
Spike turns around, grabs the bag from me, and walks into the kitchen.
Buffy and I stare at each other, cringing at the sound of rattling
silverware and banging cupboards in the kitchen.
"I called Giles...he's on his way," I say.
"Oh," she says. "Thank you...for everything...for being my friend."
"It's...nothing. I'll always be your friend," I say because I'm not
really sure how to answer that. I want to say 'thank you for
being my friend, for saving the world so that I can live in it,
for helping to protect me from demons, for convincing me that I'm
not a demon, for risking your life every night to protect millions of
people that you've never met.' I don't though.
Instead I follow her into the kitchen where Spike has made a complete
mess. I didn't even know that you could mess up peanut butter and
jelly. Both containers are open and the knife is sticking out of the
peanut butter jar. I can already tell that he used one knife for both
jars and there is now going to be peanut butter in the jelly and vice
versa. There are globs of jelly on the counter and floor and a stack of
bread that looks like he smeared peanut butter on it, ripped the bread,
and threw it aside. Vampires should not be allowed to make food for the
living.
"Here," Spike says thrusting a plate of sandwiches at Buffy. "Eat
this."
He's made way more than she can eat and I realize that it's been so
long since he had to eat that he probably has no judging point on how
much is too much versus how much is too little. Buffy takes the plate
and sits at the table, picking at the crusts while I begin to clean up
Spike's mess. Yep, globs of jelly in the peanut butter.
XXX
Spike
I could bloody kiss Glinda. I knew the Slayer had to eat but didn't
have a way of going to get her food and to be honest, I didn't think of
delivery. Even being around the Scoobies for the past two years has not
helped me to remember what it is like to be a human needing food; how
much to eat, when to eat, what to eat, that what goes in must go
out...Things I do not miss. I know the Slayer 's too skinny, know she
needs to eat, but can't bloody force it down her throat, can I? Well, I
can but the last thing I need is for her to push me away when me
and Glinda are all she's got.
Buffy's eating the sandwiches slowly and I know that she must be
starving to eat them at all. She proud, my girl, doesn't like taken
charity even from a friend. My girl...like the sound of that. Is she
mine? If Red and the Whelp were to show up on the door right now, would
I find myself pushed out on the porch?
I think about how she felt, all snuggled against me. Yeah, the Big Bad
used the word snuggled. I almost feel guilty about how the past twenty
four hours have been my idea of heaven when the Slayer probably thinks
she's in Hell. Interesting how that is, isn't it? Heaven and Hell.
Heaven for me, Hell for her.
"Think I found a buyer for J-the car," I say. I haven't, but I know she
wants to sell it and I want to help out in some way.
"Really? H-how much will they pay for it?" she asks.
"How much do you want for it?"
Buffy plays with the crumbs on her plate, pressing her finger against
them and bringing them to her lips. Silly really 'cause she's got a
whole 'nother half of sandwich and I can always make her more.
"Well, the payments are $262 a month and the book says that I'm at
payment 37 out of 72," she answers.
"About $10,000 ought to cover it," Tara says. "That should pay off the
car and leave you with a little left over...not much though."
"'Ll see what I can do," I say and silently promise to find someone
that will pay at least $15,000 for the car. There's a huge black market
for Slayer items and what demon wouldn't want a Slayer's car?
XXX