Rated: PG-13
Summary: Spike leaves after "Dead Things," wanting nothing more than to get Buffy out of his head. Wesley's still an independent contractor after the events of "Loyalty." And the Slayer's still living in the land of denial.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters featured
below except for Nika. She's all mine. And I'm not making any money off
of her either, so please don't sue.
Chapter 29: August 2004
It hadn't been a fun week for anyone. First, Spike and Wesley had both been infected with K'lagor venom, which, while it wasn't deadly, made things decidedly uncomfortable for vampire and human alike. Then, the client who had hired them to take out said K'lagor refused to pay, and Spike had to go collect.
Now, Spike didn't really mind playing the Big Bad in order to scare up their money, but it was the principle of the thing. He'd grown used to things running rather smoothly around Wesley, and he hated having to frighten someone into giving up what was theirs to begin with. If he'd been into scaring people to take money, as he'd done when he had the chip in Sunnydale, that would have been a completely different story.
It was entertainment at that point.
Besides getting poisoned and having to play creditor, however, Spike was missing Dawn rather badly. He'd gotten another letter from her, detailing the events of the summer and full of excitement over her senior year. She was dating some new guy now, whom she was certain Spike would love.
Spike was quite sure he hated the guy.
He didn't begrudge Dawn her senior year—far from it. What he did hate was the necessity of being in L.A. while she was in Sunnydale. He wanted to meet this guy she thought was so wonderful, maybe scare him a little. He wanted to be around for her Homecoming and her Prom, so he could scare her dates then too. Spike wanted to look over her homework, like he had the summer Buffy was gone.
He was more than a little tempted just to go down to Sunnydale and surprise her, but he wasn't sure if he'd be able to resist the temptation to see Buffy. Who knew what the Slayer's reaction to his presence would be?
So, Spike would not be going to Sunnyhell for any reason at all, not until he was certain he could avoid all temptation to seek Buffy out.
All of that would have been quite enough to make it a reasonably bad week, but then Nika got sick, and it was officially downgraded to rotten.
Dawn had been remarkably—thankfully—healthy all that long summer, so Spike had little experience caring for sick humans. He had the patience, thanks to his dealings with Drusilla, but no knowledge. And Nika was sick enough to cause him to put in a call to Wesley.
"How is she?" the other man asked as he entered the house. It was broiling outside, but Wesley always wore a jacket when he rode his bike. As he put it, if he fell, there was no reason he should have road rash everywhere.
The air conditioning inside was working overtime, but there was still the feel of the dog days of summer, and Wesley wasted no time in stripping off his jacket, revealing only a thin green t-shirt.
Spike shrugged. "Dunno, mate. Never looked after a sick human before. 's been a while anyway. She's got a fever, an' she can't keep anythin' down. That's what woke me up this morning."
Wesley frowned and followed Spike back to Nika's bedroom. The woman was curled up on her side on the bed, covered by several blankets and shivering. "Danika," he said gently. "Do you need us to take you to the doctor?"
"No," she replied with a groan. "It's just a flu bug. I'll get over it. Just need some time."
Wesley put the back of his hand to her forehead. "Are you certain? You're quite warm, love." The endearment slipped out without him even being aware of it.
"Spike's hands feel better," she murmured in response.
Wesley tensed, then relaxed as he realized what she meant. "His hands are colder," he agreed. He turned back toward Spike. "Has she been drinking anything?"
Spike shook his head. "No. 've been tryin', but she's havin' trouble with her stomach."
"Nika, you know you need to drink something. Do you have tea?" Wesley listened as she whispered something about her bag, and then nodded. "I'll get something for you."
Spike followed him out to the kitchen. "She goin' to be okay?"
"I think so," Wesley said. "I imagine she's just caught a virus or something. These kinds of things just need to run their course." He started rummaging around cupboards for the proper elements to make tea, and then checked her herb bag, located in the back of the pantry. As he started putting together the tea, Wesley caught Spike's skeptical look. "What?"
"'s just, I know we're Brits, an' tea's good for a lot, but..."
Wesley smiled. "Mint tea is supposed to be very good for stomach ailments," he assured the vampire. "Hopefully, it will get Nika settled enough so that she'll be able to keep something else down."
Spike nodded. "Makes sense." He watched the other man for a moment. "You think you could stick around for a while?"
Wesley gave him a sharp glance and could see the worry in Spike's eyes. He couldn't blame the vampire. Whatever Nika had, it was nasty, and Spike wasn't really equipped to deal with human sickness. "Of course." Wesley gave him a sympathetic look, knowing that Spike had been up all the previous night hunting down their errant client. "Have you been awake all day?"
"Didn't want to leave her," Spike replied in answer to the question. He might have added that he didn't want to lose her, but that went without saying.
"She will be fine, Spike," Wesley assured him again. "Nika might feel as though she would like to die, but I very much doubt that her life's in danger. Why don't you go get some sleep? I'll watch for a while."
Spike sighed and rubbed tired eyes. "A bed sounds right nice," he replied, then smiled. "Think 'm getting soft. Was a day when I'd have gone for days without sleep an' not even notice, an' then I would have slept on anythin' available, hard or soft."
"One can get used to most anything," Wesley said. "Even creature comforts."
Spike smiled and nodded a good-night before heading down the stairs. Wesley poured the tea into a mug to take into Nika. She managed to hitch herself up in bed, and he couldn't help but notice the pallor of her skin and the trembling of her hands. "Spike?"
"I sent him to get some sleep."
"You don't have to stay, you know," Nika said. "I'll be fine on my own."
Wesley raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to go? I wouldn't think you'd like being alone when you're ill."
Nika smiled wanly. "No," she admitted. "But Danny never liked being around sick people, so if you don't want to stay..."
"And who was it that took care of both Spike and me just recently when we'd been poisoned?" Wesley responded. "I do not mind returning the favor." He could see a flash of disappointment in her eyes, and put a hand to her cheek under the guise of checking her temperature. In reality, Wesley had discovered he liked contact with her under any guise at all. "And I would stay even if we hadn't been poisoned, and you hadn't stayed with the both of us."
Nika smiled at him. "You are a true gentleman, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I had thought the breed extinct."
"We are usually well camouflaged." Wesley watched as she sipped at the tea, sitting silently as she finished it. "Better?"
"A little," she acknowledged. "I think it will be a while yet before I'm ready for solids though."
"Then perhaps you should get some sleep," he suggested. "I'll stay right here."
"Nain used to promise that," Nika murmured, sleep tugging at her. "She would promise to stay with me."
"Well, I'm not your nain, but I will stay." Wesley stroked her hair, finding that the stirring in his heart was becoming more insistent. He was falling for this woman—it was becoming more than mere attraction. Romantic entanglements never worked well for him, however. And this was a woman who had lost her husband under tragic circumstances; she could hardly be expected to fall for a demon hunter again.
She could hardly be expected to fall for him.
~~~~~
Wesley stayed, occasionally reading, sometimes just watching her sleep. At one point, Nika began to whimper, moving restlessly in her sleep. He quickly moved to soothe her, putting a hand on her sweat-dampened brow, speaking in a low tone. "Danika, it's just a dream. You're quite safe."
After a moment, she stilled, sighing quietly. Wesley watched her, blue eyes far away and thoughtful. "How's she doin'?"
Spike stood in the doorway, the expression on his face unreadable. "Sleeping now," Wesley replied quietly. "Hopefully, her fever will break soon."
"An' if it doesn't?"
"We'll take her to the doctor, irregardless of what she might wish."
Spike moved closer. "I know you probably have other things to do, but would you mind hangin' around?" he asked. "You could run home, get a change of clothing, come back."
"I don't have anything else to do," Wesley replied quietly. "I certainly don't have anything better to do." He stood and stretched. "I think I will follow your suggestion, however. I could use a chance to get cleaned up."
Spike nodded. "That tea...?"
"There's more ready in the kitchen," Wesley assured him. "Just put it to steep as you would any other tea."
"Right then," the vampire said, coming over to take Wesley's spot by the bed. "See you in a bit, mate." He watched the ex-Watcher leave and bit back a sigh of relief that Wesley seemed to know what he was doing.
Spike had long ago realized that Wesley was a good man to have around whatever the crisis. He could be relied upon to keep a cool head and think through things. Of course, sometimes thinking wasn't called for, but if he let himself react, his instincts weren't bad either. In a situation like this, Spike wasn't sure he'd want anyone else.
He'd realized over the last day or two that he hated sickness, more than anything else. Most things that threatened his loved ones could be fought off one way or another. Sickness and death seemed inevitable if you were foolish enough to love a mortal, and neither could be fought with fists or fangs.
Spike ran a cool hand over Nika's too-warm forehead, listening to her murmurs of appreciation, and, for the first time he could remember, regretted being immortal. For the first time, Spike felt that the future was something to fear.
~~~~~
Wesley showered and changed clothes, throwing an overnight bag together as quickly as possible. He hated having to leave Nika with Spike for too long. It seemed obvious that the vampire was more frightened of her illness than of the demons and vampires they fought on a regular basis.
The only reason Wesley wasn't anxious was that he knew she would recover, but he could imagine the sense of helplessness that would come if the problem wasn't so easily solved by time and plenty of liquids. The idea of Nika not being there was more painful than he would wish.
Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Wesley headed for the door, just as he heard a knock. He opened it, eyes widening at the sight that greeted him. "Hi, Wes."
"Fred." Wesley stared at the woman standing in front of him, hardly able to believe she was there. "What—"
"Can I come in?" She didn't move, and Wesley finally stood aside to let her enter. "How are you?"
Wesley wasn't rude enough to ask why she wanted to know, but he was still thinking it. After running into his old gang a few months previously, Wesley had even less desire than usual to see or talk to any of them. Even Fred, whom he would once have given his right arm to see show up at his door, was not a welcome visitor these days.
"I'm fine," he replied, a chill in his voice. "What brings you here?"
"We have a problem," Fred replied. "Angel's been trying to translate this prophecy one of his sources told him was important, but he can't make it out. I thought—"
"You thought I would do it," Wesley finished for her. "Don't you remember what happened the last time I attempted a difficult translation?"
Fred's head went back as though she'd been slapped. "Wesley, you were just doing what you thought was right."
"That's what I thought too," he replied quietly. "Funny how no one else seemed to realize that at the time."
Fred swallowed heavily, knowing what Wesley was referring to. "Wes, I'm sorry about what I said to you in the hospital. I just thought it would be better if you stayed away."
"Is that right?" Wesley asked. He shook himself. Berating Fred would do him no good, and he needed to get back to Nika. "Look, Fred, I am sorry, but I don't think I can help you. A friend is sick, and I really should get back to her."
Fred blinked, surprised. The few times she'd seen Wesley since the whole Connor debacle, he'd been cold and remote, so his attitude wasn't surprising now. What was surprising was his reason for being brusque. "Oh. Wes, this is—"
"Important," he sighed. It always was. "Did you bring the text?"
It didn't surprise him when Fred pulled the book out of her bag. "I told Angel I was going to take it to an expert."
Wesley laughed softly, sadly. Angel would have known who Fred was going to see. It was significant that she still could not say who it was aloud. "Of course. I'll do what I can and then give you a call."
Fred looked as though she might argue for a moment, before finally nodding. "Sure. That works."
They stared at each other, and Wesley unwillingly remembered the days when he was so in love with her he could hardly think straight. What had happened? He didn't remember a moment when he woke up with the realization that he was no longer in love with Fred. Wesley hadn't even realized that you could fall out of love with someone. Virginia had been the one to break off her relationship with him, and he had eventually managed to get over his broken heart.
If he were honest with himself, Wesley could admit that there was a good possibility that Fred hadn't even realized how deep his feelings for her went. And now—now his feelings for her were no more than they might be for any other person he'd known and worked with closely for a few years. His heart was with the woman whose life he'd saved, who'd made curry for him, and who saw he felt welcome in her house. Nika had taken Fred's place in his heart, and he hadn't even been aware of it.
"I'll let you know when I have something," he assured her. "But I really have to go."
"Yeah, you should be with your friend." Fred watched as Wesley shoved the book, along with several others, on top of the clothing in his bag and zipped it back up. A sense of loss stabbed at her. She remembered when she had considered Wesley the calm, rational center of the group. He was a mystery to her now—his cold remoteness at odds with his concern for a sick friend. She had no idea who he was anymore, and she wondered if she'd ever known him.
"Fred—" They were standing in the hallway now, and somehow Fred knew that Wesley was letting go, just as she was. What had happened had changed them in an infinite number of ways—Wesley more than anyone else. "Take care of yourself."
"You too." Wesley walked away from her, feeling the weight of the past fall away with every step. That wasn't where he belonged any more.
He had his own place in the world now.
~~~~~
Wesley let himself in the front door, Spike coming out of Nika's bedroom to meet him. Ever sensitive to the people around him, the vampire gave him a sharp look. "You alright, mate?"
"Fine," he replied. "Really. I just—I saw Fred. She wanted me to translate a prophecy for Angel."
"Hope you told the chit where she could put it," Spike said, anger causing his bright blue eyes to spark. "After everythin' they've done—"
"I can look at the prophecy and watch over Nika," Wesley said, interrupting him. "I wouldn't have agreed to it otherwise. Besides, the people Angel desires to help are the people we want to help as well."
"We just have a better business plan," Spike muttered. "Right. Well, good luck on that then."
"Did Nika—"
"Woke once an' I gave her more of that tea. Think her fever broke 'bout an hour ago while she was sleepin'," Spike said. "'Course, it might come back, but she's alright for now. Figure she might want to eat when she wakes up."
"Broth would probably be best." Wesley went into the kitchen and started going through the pantry. "It looks like she has some handy. If she's hungry when she wakes up, we can heat it up then."
Wesley pulled the volumes out of his bag and spread them out of the table, raising an eyebrow when Spike plunked himself down in the chair across from him. "Were you volunteering to help?"
Spike shook his head. "I had a question."
"Okay." Wesley waited for several moments, before speaking again. "Were you going to ask it sometime tonight?"
Spike shot him a hurt look. "You ever wish things had gone differently?"
"What do you mean?"
"'s just—" Spike sighed. "Never mind. It's not important."
"Spike, I'm sorry. What did you mean?" Wesley modulated his tone, realizing that Spike was being serious and not trying to annoy him just for the sake of it.
Spike frowned. "Got another letter from Dawn the other day, you know."
"Usually you enjoy receiving her letters," Wesley pointed out.
Spike smiled. "Still do. It just makes me wish I was there. That summer—when Buffy was gone—we were...close."
"She still cares for you, Spike," Wesley said gently. "She wouldn't continue writing to you if she didn't."
"Know that," Spike said impatiently. "Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have stayed though. If I did the wrong thing by runnin' away."
Wesley frowned. "Do you regret coming to L.A. then?"
"No," Spike said, so quickly that Wesley knew he spoke the truth. "No. 've just been missin' the Bit, 's all. An' I don't trust myself to go to Sunnyhell."
Wesley understood. He understood better than anyone, probably. "It will get easier, Spike. Eventually."
"You know that for a fact?"
"I told you I saw Fred tonight."
Blue eyes met blue, and Spike nodded his comprehension. "You got over her."
"Yes, I did." Wesley smiled.
Spike smiled in reply, but there was a wealth of somber wisdom in the expression. "Then there might be hope for me yet, yeah?" He pushed himself up. "Better go see how Nika's doin'."
Several hours later, Wesley was still looking over the text, a particularly tricky one that seemed to be mixing a number of ancient languages both human and demon. From Nika's room, he could hear Spike's low voice. Nika had woken about an hour earlier, ready for something to eat, but not feeling up to doing anything.
Wesley had been that sick himself, and he knew how frustrating it could be to be too ill to want to read or watch TV, and yet unable to sleep because you'd slept so much already. To his amazement, Spike had offered to read aloud to her, anything she wanted, and Nika had quickly taken him up on his offer.
Her request had been for Jane Eyre, and while Spike had cocked an eyebrow, he hadn't raised any objections. Nika had told him he could skip the beginning, explaining that the story didn't become truly interesting until the meeting between Jane and Mr. Rochester.
The normally rough North London accent had softened as he read, and Wesley could hear the hints of a more polished tone similar to his own accent. Putting down his pen, he drifted over to the bedroom door.
The vampire was sitting in the chair by the bed, the lamp on its lowest setting because the light hurt Nika's eyes. She was curled up, facing Spike, and though Wesley couldn't see her face, he knew she would wear a soft smile. "Are you going to stand there forever, or are you going to come join us?" she called, interrupting Spike's reading.
Wesley blinked, and then looked back over his shoulder at the texts on the table. He would need to put some more time in, but he thought he might have a few moments to relax with his friends. "I think I could stand to take a break." He sat down next to Nika on the bed, and tensed, then relaxed again as she scooted closer. His hand reached out of its own accord to take hers. Pretending to ignore Spike's knowing smile, he stretched out on the bed to listen to the tale of Jane and Mr. Rochester.
He let out a soft sigh. With Nika in his arms, and
his friend nearby, Wesley knew he had come home. For the first time in
a long while, the future loomed brighter than the past.