Cold As It Gets

Author: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-15

Archive: If you already have my stuff, otherwise just ask.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters in this story. Need I say more?

Summary: Set in a very AU world after the BtVS S6 episode Grave and the Ats S4 episode, Orpheus. Spike never shows up in Sunnydale, Faith sticks around in L.A., since there's no First Evil to worry about in Sunnydale, and Angel and Connor manage to prevent Jasmine from rising. The AI gang is left fragmented until the Powers That Be decide to intervene.

"To the end of the earth, I search for your face, for the one who laid all of our beauty to waste. Threw our hope into hell and our children to the fire. I am the one who crawled through the wire. There's a million sad stories on the side of the road. Strange how we all just got used to the blood. Millions of stories that will never be told, silent and froze in the mud. I know a cold as cold as it gets. I know a darkness that's darker than coal. A wind that blows as cold as it gets. Blew out the light of my soul...I know a cold as cold as it gets. I fight a war I may never see won. I live only to see you live to regret everything that you've done." ~Patty Griffin, "Cold As It Gets"

Chapter 7

Wesley knew it had been a mistake as soon as he left the hotel; being that short with Connor and Spike would only prove their point. He hadn't been lying, however. Faith wasn't his girl; she'd made that very clear.

At the same time, things were changing between them. There were softer moments more often, moments where they looked at each other and knew they were each thinking the same thing. Nights where they lay in his bed in comfortable silence, or sharing idle gossip.

There were moments when Wesley found himself sharing information with her that he never would have thought to share, and yet he couldn't regret it. Things were so easy between them during those times.

But at other times their words would be sharp as knives, cutting each other to the quick.

At least the Hyperion was beginning to feel like a base of operations again, rather than a tomb. It wasn't the same without Cordelia, of course, but the wound didn't ache as much these days.

Wesley ran his errands without giving much thought to them; there were magic supplies to pick up, things he liked to have on hand. He had to retrieve a book he'd ordered, and pick up a few groceries.

It surprised him to find Faith waiting for him at his apartment when he arrived, especially since she didn't have a key.

Wesley didn't say anything, merely raising an eyebrow and waiting for her explanation, certain that it would be forthcoming eventually. "The skills you learn in prison," Faith said with a smirk. "You know, if they think prison is going to reform a person, they're seriously mistaken."

"No. Reformation comes from within," Wesley agreed.

It was the closest he'd ever come to telling her he understood, that he knew she'd changed and for the better. If he had been a different kind of man, Wesley might have told her that he was proud of her for it.

Perhaps something in his tone gave him away, because Faith dropped her gaze, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Yeah. I guess you could say that."

Glancing at the clock, Wesley realized that it was late. "Are you hungry?"

She looked startled, and then shrugged. "I could eat. What were you thinking?"

He could hear the wariness in her voice, sense the shift. Neither of them quite knew what they were doing these days. "Nothing fancy," Wesley assured her, shrugging. "I'm not dressed for it."

"What are we waiting for?"

Wesley took her to his favorite pub. It had good beer and decent food, and neither one of them would feel uncomfortable in their casual attire. He ordered drinks for both of them and watched Faith as she looked over the menu, wondering what it would be like to take her out to a fancier place sometime. He wondered if she'd enjoy the experience of getting dressed up, going out, eating gourmet food, or if she would be uncomfortable and thus irritable.

Cordelia had enjoyed that sort of thing, and Wesley thought that Fred had taken pleasure in their night at the ballet. Faith was a different sort of girl entirely.

Or was she?

"What's got you so worked up?"

Her voice pulled Wesley out of his thoughts, and he blinked. "Worked up?" he asked carefully.

"You look like you're thinking pretty hard about something," Faith said. "Everything okay at the hotel?"

"Everything is fine." Wesley thought there might be a way to ask without asking. "I was just remembering."

Faith, he'd learned, was insatiably curious at times. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"A couple of years ago, we all went out to the ballet," Wesley replied. "I think it was Cordelia's idea. She wanted us to get out, since we'd been spending so much time either with Connor or working on cases."

"So you all got dressed up and went out to the ballet?" Faith asked dubiously. "Doesn't sound like much of a night out to me."

"What would be a night out for you?" he asked, sounding as casual as possible.

Shrugging, Faith waved a hand. "A place like this is good. You can get out without feeling like you have to be on display. Getting fancy isn't a way to relax."

"You don't like to get fancy?"

"Do you?" she countered. "Haven't seen you wearing a tie lately, Wes."

He leaned back, away from her. They'd been moving closer, leaning over the table, their posture unconscious. Wesley should have expected her to go on the offensive. Faith always did when things got too personal for her. He was ready to evade, to tell her that it wasn't necessary these days, and so he didn't see the point in it. Instead, Wesley opted for the truth.

"That's not who I am any longer."

Her face softened, his words unknotting something between them, easing a tension they'd both felt. Without realizing what he was doing, Wesley had moved them to the next level, although neither of them knew it. He just felt that being honest with Faith was the right thing to do.

It felt good.

"Yeah," she agreed. "I guess I never was that girl, you know? Just white trash."

"No." Wesley regretted the sharpness of his tone as soon as the word left his mouth, but he wasn't willing to take it back either. "No, you're not," he added more softly this time.

Faith laughed, and Wesley thought she sounded nervous. "You ever think it's funny?"

"What's funny?"

"You know. Us."

He knew what she was remembering without her saying it—pain, blood, glass, and flame. "Sometimes."

Faith changed the subject then, to ask a question about the agency, about what he'd discovered regarding Spike, but Wesley could tell that things had changed.

Before the last couple years, Wesley had never truly understood what the sages meant when they said change was the only constant. He did now.

~~~~~

The hotel was no longer silent. In a way, Wesley found the noise odd. After Angel had tried to kill him, after his exile, Wesley had been accompanied by silence. It had wrapped around him like a cloak, a stillness that seemed to speak of death.

The death of dreams, the death of friendships, the death of hope.

It had been the same after Cordelia died, only the silence had infected the hotel, spreading to its occupants, weighing them down with a great burden.

Today, however, he could hear the sounds of a computer game, Connor's muttered curses and exclamations, Spike's encouragements, Faith's laughter. Wesley wondered why he was in the office, but there was work that needed to be done, and he didn't feel comfortable joining them, not really a part of things.

"Hey, Wes."

He glanced up to see Fred lingering in the doorway. "Fred. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she replied. "I was just wondering if you wanted something to eat. We're going to order dinner pretty soon."

He frowned. "I thought we had a meeting scheduled for tonight."

She shook her head. "He rescheduled. I'm sorry I forgot to tell you. Angel's going to take Faith and Connor with him to patrol Mr. Nelson's property," Fred replied. "He thought it would be good if they were familiar with it."

Wesley ran a hand over his spiky hair, already disheveled from a day of research, going over the books for any clue as to the identity of the artifact Spike had discovered as a result of his latest vision. "I take it Angel wants us to watch out for Spike tonight."

Fred hesitated. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind staying. I can, it's just that I told one of the graduate assistants from the physics program at UCLA that I'd meet her. It's nothing special, but she read my article from last year, and she wanted to talk to me about it. I didn't think this would be a good place, so I said we could meet at a coffee shop. If you're okay with that. I can cancel, but—"

"No. You should go," Wesley said quietly. "They ought to take you seriously."

"Kinda hard to do that when a big demon tries to come out of a portal and eat you," Fred replied self-deprecatingly. "Nobody wants to believe what they saw, so they tell themselves that nothing makes sense."

"You didn't get an offer to go back from UCLA?" Wesley asked, trying to remember if he'd heard anything about that. It wasn't like he'd been in the loop at the time, so it was no wonder he couldn't recall.

Fred shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't know. After what happened with Professor Seidell, I'm not sure that's where I want to be. And going somewhere else..." She trailed off and then shrugged. "I thought about it, but I can't leave now. Maybe I'll go back one of these days."

"You should," Wesley said, hoping Fred could hear the sincerity in his voice. He wondered when it had happened—when his love had dimmed to a deep affection. Perhaps it had been when he realized that he was too dark for her—or, perhaps, that she wasn't dark enough for him. Wesley had an idea that Fred would never have understood his feelings for Lilah—more than that, she would have despised him for his actions.

Perhaps they were never meant to be. Or maybe it was simply that their time had passed, never to come again.

Surprise reflected on her face. "You think I should leave?"

"No," Wesley said quickly. "Of course not. I just think that you have a gift that shouldn't be wasted."

"Oh." She flushed. "Thank you."

"How is Spike doing?" Wesley asked. If he was going to be babysitting the vampire for the evening, he wanted to know what he was getting himself into.

Fred shrugged. "He has more good days than bad now."

"I suppose that's something," Wesley stated, not sure if that was supposed to reassure him or not.

She laughed. "He's not going to bite you, Wes. All you have to do is make sure you keep him from running off if he has a vision."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"Grab him and steer him towards your car," Fred replied practically. "Oh, and if it looks like he's having a vision, it's better if you're in contact with him."

"In contact with him?"

"Yeah. If you're touching him, Spike knows that it's just a vision."

Wesley wasn't quite sure what to think about that, other than that he had to hope Spike didn't have a vision. Really, an evening of uninterrupted research would be nice for a change. "Right."

"So, dinner?" Fred asked again.

"Whatever sounds good," Wesley replied. "You know what I like."

"Yeah, I do." Fred gave him a quick smile. "Thanks for staying tonight, Wes."

"You shouldn't be stuck here all the time if you've got somewhere else to be."

Fred just shook her head. "I don't mind. Spike is—he's a good guy."

"I'm sure he is," Wesley murmured as she left the office, bending his head over his book again.

~~~~~

He didn't bother looking up when Spike plopped down in the chair across from the desk. "Did you need something, Spike?"

"No."

Wesley decided not to ask again. He had a feeling that the vampire was trying to annoy him.

"You just going to read all night?"

"I had considered it."

"You ever think about doing something fun?"

"I am doing something fun."

Spike's snort made his opinion clear.

Wesley decided that in this case, ignorance was bliss.

"You know there's a game on tonight, don't you?" Spike asked.

Wesley felt his attention pique at that. "Who's playing?"

"Dunno. It's football, innit?"

He had to concede the point. "May I remind you that the hotel doesn't get cable?"

"Because Angelus is a cheap bastard," Spike opined. "Not the point. There's a bar in town that shows it."

Wesley gave him a suspicious look. "Why me? Why not go with Fred some other night?"

Spike lifted an eyebrow. "Don't know if you've noticed, mate, but Fred isn't a football fan. Sweet girl, but she goes on about the physics of the ball, has more information about why the ball didn't go into the net than anyone wants to hear while they're watchin' a footie game."

Wesley could feel his lips twitch. He could just imagine. "And the visions?"

Spike shrugged. "We'll find a dark corner."

~~~~~

Wesley wanted to ask a thousand questions, to test his theories as to why Spike had a soul and to explore whether he really was one of the wild cards to which Wesley's books kept making reference.

Spike, however, was not to be distracted. He ordered a drink and expected Wesley to pay for the both of them. Then, he focused on the game between Manchester United and Chelsea.

Wesley found the experience rather unique. He'd been out with Angel before, who tended to blend in, rather than draw attention to himself. Spike was the polar opposite, soon surrounding himself with friends and foes alike. After the first two drinks, Wesley didn't even have to pull out his wallet. Spike's new friends had no problem buying, although Wesley refrained. He was the one driving home, and if Spike had a vision, Wesley knew he needed to be sharp.

Spike certainly wasn't planning on being sharp.

"Wes." Spike's hand clamped down on his arm, his blue eyes glazed with pain. "We have to go."

Wesley grabbed Spike's arm, hustling him back towards the bathrooms and calling out their apologies as they went. There was a fire exit in the back, and Wesley pushed through the fire door, ignoring the alarm that went off. "What do you see?"

"Bloody hell," Spike gasped. "Why can't I watch a sodding football game?" he shouted at the sky. "Leave me the hell alone!"

"Spike!" Wesley was reminded of Cordelia in that moment. He could recall her yelling at the Powers That Be, too. "What do we need to do?"

"Dunno," Spike replied. "Couldn't get a bead on the area. I don't know where they were." He moaned. "Gonna happen again. Gonna come up again."

"What's going to come up again?" Wesley asked, then decided to change tactics. "What did you smell, Spike? Were there any distinctive odors?"

He'd been good at this once before, standing behind Cordelia, supporting her, talking her through the visions. At least, he had been good at this before everything had changed. Before it had all gone to hell.

"Sweet," Spike muttered. "Sweet like sugar, no, syrup. Dark, too dark to see anything."

Wesley cursed, reaching for his cell phone. He didn't bother trying Angel's phone. Faith answered hers right away. "Faith, Spike just had a vision. He said he smelled something sweet like syrup, and it was too dark to see anything."

"Aren't vampires supposed to be able to see in the dark?" she asked.

"Dark is relative," Wesley replied. "Even vampires have difficulty seeing when there's a total absence of light."

"So what are you—" Faith broke off. "You're thinking Nelson's place. He's got a candy factory."

"That's right around where we found the Tendoor last time," Wesley replied. "Tendoors are known to mate for life, and they like darkness. Angel knows the place I'm talking about."

"We're on our way now," Faith replied. "I'll see you when we get back."

"Alright," Wesley said, realizing that she'd already hung up. He looked over at Spike, who was huddled miserably against the car. "Spike, it's going to be fine. We know where they're going."

"It won't be in time," Spike said, his voice full of mournful knowledge. "I'm never in time when I can't hang onto it."

Wesley touched his arm, knowing that Spike was referring to the vision. There had been times when Cordelia couldn't see clearly, and he remembered that it had torn her up inside. "You're not alone anymore. They'll be in time."

~~~~~

Wesley didn't have any more answers at the end of their evening than he'd had at the beginning. He'd discovered that Spike was startlingly like Angel where it concerned the safety of innocents, and yet so different that it was impossible not to compare them.

It had been an enjoyable evening, though, up until the vision struck.

Wesley leapt to his feet as Connor and Angel came through the front doors, Faith in Angel's arms. "What happened?"

"She got knocked around some," Angel replied. "She's fine, Wes. Just unconscious."

"If she were fine, she wouldn't be unconscious," Wesley shot back, checking her pulse with gentle fingers. It beat, strong and steady, and he let out a sigh of relief.

"She hasn't been out that long," Angel assured him. "I'll just take her upstairs, and—"

"I've got her." Wesley cut him off, grateful when Angel didn't argue with him. The Slayer didn't weigh much, and he didn't have a problem carrying her up the stairs to the room Faith normally occupied.

Well, the room she occupied when she wasn't with him.

He wondered what Faith would say if she woke while in his arms. She would demand to be put down, of course, insist that she was fine and try to prevent him from fussing over her. Wesley thought he might be too far gone for that. Too far gone to walk away and pretend it didn't matter that she'd been hurt. To let her bandage her own wounds.

Laying her on the bed, Wesley retrieved a washcloth from the adjoining bathroom to wipe the blood and grime from her face.

Faith began to stir as he ran the damp cloth over her face, grunting as she opened her eyes. "Wes?"

"Hold still," he commanded, peering at the scrape on her head to make sure he'd gotten all the dirt out. "You have quite a bump."

"Where's Angel?" she asked, trying to sit up. "And Connor?"

"They're fine," he replied. "Angel brought you back."

She slumped back on the bed. "How long was I out?"

"I don't know. Angel said it hadn't been long, and you only just got here." Wesley tilted her head to check for any damage that he might have missed. "How are you feeling?"

"If you're asking if I have a concussion, my head's harder than that," Faith responded, catching his hand to still it. Wesley had been brushing her hair back, almost without thinking, trying to settle himself.

Seeing her in Angel's arms like that—

"Good." Uncertain again, he stood, thinking that perhaps now would be a good time to leave. "I should let you rest. I'll just—"

"You could stay," Faith ventured. Then, her tone becoming tentative, she added, "If you don't have anywhere else to be, I mean. Not that you need to stay with me, because I'm fine."

"I should stay," Wesley said. "We don't know that you don't have a concussion, so I should probably be here tonight, just in case."

It was a lame excuse, and Wesley knew it. Moreover, he could see from Faith's expression that she knew it, too. Perhaps it was a mark of the change that was occurring when she merely nodded. "Right. You're supposed to keep me from falling asleep."

Wesley sat back down on the bed. "How would you suggest I do that?"

Faith gave him a sultry smile. "I'm sure we can come up with a plan."