Go the Whole Wide World

Author: enigmaticblue

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The standard "I don't own them, please don't sue" should suffice, don't you think?

Archive: If you've got my stuff already, otherwise just ask.

Summary: Wesley finds himself with business in Rome, and Angel sends Spike along for company, wanting to get him out of his hair. It's amazing how small the world is sometimes. Set sometime after Why We Fight.

A/N: spikes_lady asked for Spike and Wesley bonding with possible Spuffy. I hope this suits.

Chapter 6: Calling Reinforcements

"The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating—in work, in play, in love." ~Anne Moriss

Wesley was not happy about this most recent turn of events. He was in Rome to discover exactly what the cyborgs were, and what their purpose was, not to interfere in Buffy's love life.

In fact, Wesley was only at the Summers' apartment because it made good sense to avoid the hotel and the cyborgs. At least for now.

Next time, if Wesley had a chance to capture one, he'd use all his powers of persuasion to convince it to tell him exactly what was going on. They felt pain, which meant that torture was a possibility if necessary.

There was still a small part of him that cringed at the idea of torturing only for information, and not when someone's life was in jeopardy. Wesley knew that while the ends did not justify the means, they sometimes made the means necessary.

At the same time, however, he was beginning to have the niggling feeling that something was amiss. Wesley's Watcher-instincts, long buried, were telling him that all was not right, and that it might be a good idea to help out.

Buffy's appearance, when she came limping through the door with Alessandra, suggested that his instincts were right.

"Buffy!" Dawn moved to Buffy's other side, supporting her to the couch and helping her to sit down. "What happened?"

"I had to use the window, rather than the door," Buffy said. Her eyes went to Spike, who hadn't moved from his station near the window.

Wesley could feel the tension thrum between the two of them, and he wondered if Spike would be able to forgive her. Not that there was necessarily anything to forgive, but emotions were rarely ruled by logic.

"Dawn? Do you have a first aid kit?" Wesley asked, deciding to break the silence with the most practical question he could think of.

"Yeah, I'll get it," Dawn said, hurrying into the bathroom.

Wesley sat down on the couch next to her, his eyes going to Buffy's for her permission. "Do you mind?"

"No," she said quietly. Buffy glanced up at Alessandra and then over to Julie. "Thanks, guys. If you want to head to bed, you can. I know it's late."

Alessandra gave Buffy a severe look. "You won't go off with him again?"

"No," Buffy replied. "I promise."

Alessandra nodded. "Very well. Buonasera."

"Good night," Buffy replied.

Wesley bid the girls good night in Italian, unable to prevent himself from wondering what it would be like to be a Watcher to not one, but multiple Slayers. It was certainly an intriguing proposition. For the first time, he allowed himself to wonder how Giles was handling it all, how he was finding the girls, where he was placing them.

How had he decided to structure the new Council? Would all the Slayers serve on an active basis? And would new Slayers be chosen as they reached a certain age, or as the older Slayers died?

Wesley reminded himself that it was none of his business as Dawn handed him the first aid kit.

"How long has it been since you had a tetanus shot?" he asked.

Buffy looked blank. "Huh?"

"Last year," Dawn supplied. "After Sunnydale disappeared."

"You remember that?" Buffy asked. "How come I don't remember?"

"Because you were the one who was hurt and running on pure adrenalin," Dawn responded shortly. "And because you weren't thinking of much except—" She broke off, glancing over at Spike involuntarily.

The vampire finally spoke. "Hope you don't mind, but the Bit offered us a place to crash tonight. Thought it might be better to go where the cyborgs can't find us."

"That's fine," Buffy said quickly. "You guys are welcome to stay here. If you want to take the couch, Wesley, Spike can—"

"I'll sleep on the floor," Spike said shortly.

Wesley winced as he finished cleaning out the cut on Buffy's leg, frowning as he realized that the wound was still bleeding, albeit sluggishly. He knew that she should be healing faster. "Buffy? How long ago would you say you received this cut?"

"I don't know," Buffy said. "He had a wall surrounding his villa, with iron spikes on top. Alessandra and Rosalia were waiting for me when I climbed over the wall, and we came straight back here. Fifteen or twenty minutes?"

Wesley put a gauze pad over the wound and taped it in place, then took her wrist to check her pulse. "How long have you been seeing this man?"

"Antonio?" Buffy asked. "Not that long. I met him a couple of weeks ago, but we just went to dinner and out to a club. What's going on?"

"Your leg is still bleeding," Wesley replied. "It should have stopped by now."

Spike straightened. "So, now you're goin' to believe me?"

"I never said I didn't believe you, Spike," Wesley replied shortly. "I merely stated that I required more evidence before drawing any conclusions."

"What conclusions?" Buffy demanded, looking from Spike to Wesley and back again. "What were you thinking?"

"The Immortal has a thrall, is what I was thinking," Spike said sourly. "The Watcher didn't want to be bothered."

Wesley didn't try to contradict the vampire, since it was mostly true, although there was a little more to it than that. "At the moment, I believe that the Immortal is exerting some sort of influence over you, and that it might be interfering with the healing process." Wesley frowned. "I've never heard of anything like this, however."

"Giles is looking into it," Dawn said for Buffy's sake. "We'll get it figured out."

"For now, I think you might want to try to sleep," Wesley said. "You look as though you could use it."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. I guess I probably shouldn't shower until the cut heals a little more, huh?"

"That's up to you," Wesley replied. "You'll want to keep a dressing on it, though."

"Yeah. Thanks, Wesley." She smiled at him. "Willow said you'd changed, but that's an understatement." Buffy paused in front of Spike as she headed back to her bedroom. "Can I talk to you?"

"S'pose you can," Spike replied, not meeting her eyes.

Wesley felt a pang as he heard her whispered plea. "Spike. Please."

Spike gave one short jerk of his head, then followed her into the bedroom.

"Ugh." Dawn made a face. "I can't believe this."

"What can't you believe?" Wesley asked.

Dawn sighed. "Buffy has been moping for months, ever since Spike dusted. She hasn't said much, but I know she has a lot of regrets about the things that she did or didn't do. Now that he's here, she's screwing around with the Immortal. It doesn't make sense."

"No, I suppose it doesn't," Wesley acknowledged. "It's entirely possible that Buffy has good reasons for being with the Immortal, however."

Dawn's eyes narrowed. "You don't believe that."

"No, I don't," he admitted. "But I'm not sure what I do believe at the moment."

~~~~~

Spike had no idea how he felt at the moment. Betrayed for sure, and yet at the same time sympathetic. While he was certain that Buffy hadn't meant to sleep with the Immortal again, he wasn't sure that she'd tried all that hard to avoid it. She had seemingly been aware that the bastard had some ability to get through her defenses, and yet she'd gone off with him of her own free will.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said as soon as he'd closed the door behind him.

Spike could hear the pain in her voice, and his anger diminished considerably. He never had been able to stay angry at Buffy when she was hurt and upset. "I know."

"I don't know what happened, Spike," Buffy said. "I kept the door between us when he came by. I told him that I didn't want to see him or talk to him, but then he somehow managed to touch my hand and..." She took a deep breath. "I think I'm going crazy."

"You're not goin' crazy," Spike assured her, closing the distance between them. "We know there's somethin' up with him. You heard Dawn; Rupert's lookin' into it."

Her bottom lip trembled. "Spike, I didn't mean—I know we aren't together or anything, but I never meant..."

"Shh," he soothed, putting his hands on her shoulders. To his surprise, Buffy stepped closer, and Spike took the opportunity to hold her. Except to catch her when she had nearly fainted, he hadn't touched her.

She held onto him as though she would never let him go, and he ran his hand in soothing circles on her back. "I really am sorry," she mumbled into his t-shirt. "I couldn't—it was like I couldn't say no."

"Yeah, I know," Spike sighed. "We'll get this sorted, pet." He pulled back, holding her by the shoulders. "Tell me something, though. Do you want to be with him, Buffy?"

"No!" Buffy burst out. "No. He was just supposed to be the guy who helped me get over you."

Spike couldn't help but feel a little pleased at that, and was once again reminded that if he'd contacted Buffy when he'd been solid again, she wouldn't have needed the Immortal at all. "S'pose we could just keep apologizin' to each other, or we could move on and focus on the problem we've got."

"Moving on is good," Buffy said.

Spike could see the weariness on her features, and he gave her a gentle nudge towards her bed. "Go to sleep, luv."

"Where are you going to sleep?" Buffy asked in protest. "You shouldn't have to be on the floor."

"I'll be helpin' Wesley tonight," Spike replied. "He'll need it if he's not goin' to get pissed about splittin' my time and efforts."

Buffy gave him a look that to Spike's eyes was filled with longing. But then again, what did he know? He'd read the signs wrong before. "Spike—"

"Go to sleep, Buffy. I'll be around," he promised, then let himself out of the bedroom.

Both Dawn and Wesley looked at him expectantly. "What?" he demanded.

"Are you okay?" Wesley asked, sounding surprisingly compassionate.

Spike shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Have we got anything on the Immortal? Any way to get information except waitin' for Rupert?"

Dawn shook her head. "We don't have many books here, but..."

"What's that, Bit?" Spike asked.

"I could call Willow," Dawn offered. "She's the research whiz, and maybe she could do a spell or something to find out what the Immortal is if nothing else."

"Isn't she in South America?" Spike asked, frowning as he tried to remember what Andrew had told him about the girl.

Dawn shook her head. "She's staying with Giles right now. I think it's because she's trying to break up with Kennedy but doesn't know how."

"Perhaps calling Willow would be a good idea," Wesley agreed. "We may need a witch on hand."

Dawn glanced at the clock. "I'd probably better wait for morning." She offered Spike a sympathetic look. "You want my bed? I've got a sleeping bag somewhere."

"I'll take the floor, Nibblet," Spike said. "I've slept worst places."

The floor certainly wouldn't be worse than the sarcophagus had been in the crypt; he'd slept on the ground in the school basement, and in empty office at Wolfram & Hart just after he was solid again. Although Spike had grown used to a bed, he was grateful for what he could get at this point.

Dawn shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll go get you guys some blankets and stuff. I think the curtains should be heavy enough to keep out most of the light."

She left the room, and Spike looked over at Wesley. "Well? You gonna tell me this isn't any of our concern again?"

"No, I'm not," Wesley replied shortly. "Besides, Giles might be able to accept that we're not on the side of evil if we help, and therefore might be more likely to give us a hand on occasion."

"Sorry." Spike sat down next to the other man on the couch and leaned his head back against the cushions. In truth, there wasn't anyone else in Angel's gang he'd prefer to have with him, including Angel.

Spike knew he wasn't stupid, but research wasn't his cup of tea, nor was it Angel's. Between him and Wesley, they had the bases covered.

"I should have given you more credit," Wesley admitted in a low voice. "You know Buffy better than I do."

Spike let the silence hang, feeling more than a little relief at the idea that Wesley was firmly on his side.

"Here you go," Dawn announced, coming out with her arms full of blankets, pillows, and a rolled-up sleeping bag. "I'm going to bed. I still have to be at school tomorrow morning."

"You gonna call Willow before you leave?" Spike asked, beginning to search for his fags before he remembered that he couldn't smoke indoors.

Dawn made a face. "I'll try, but if I don't have the time, I'll leave her number, and one of you guys can call."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Us?"

"Yeah. Why not?" Dawn asked. "You both know her, so it's not like you're cold-calling someone. I'll see you tomorrow. 'Night, guys."

Once she'd gone into her bedroom, Spike looked at Wesley. "You're callin' her."

"Why me?" Wesley asked.

"Because she doesn't know I'm alive, an' I don't know if Rupert's told her yet," Spike replied. "Makes more sense for you to do it."

Wesley sighed. "I suppose so. We got on well enough when she came—" He stopped.

"What?" Spike asked.

"I think she came to L.A. to restore Angel's soul, but I don't remember why."

"He lost it." Spike shrugged. "That's what happens when it's not anchored."

Wesley raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. "I suppose so."

Spike grabbed his share of the blankets and stretched out on the floor, closing his eyes wearily. He still wasn't quite sure why he wasn't sharing Buffy's bed; she'd wanted him to. But Spike couldn't bring himself to sleep in the same bed with her right now, not when he could still smell the Immortal and sex, even if she hadn't slept with him willingly.

Angel-breath was bad enough.

~~~~~

Willow seemed to have been infected with a terrible ennui since leaving Kennedy. Maybe it was because she knew that it was over, and it would have been better to cut ties completely, but she just hadn't been able to say the words. As the song said, breaking up was hard to do, and Willow had never mastered the art.

Of course, thinking about it, Willow had never been the dumper. Oz and Tara had both left her in one way or another. If she was honest with herself, Willow would admit that she was sort of waiting for Kennedy to get the picture and maybe move on herself.

She sighed. This was beyond stupid. She was an adult. She was mature. The mature thing to do would be to call Kennedy and tell her that things weren't working out and that she was staying in England.

Or send an email. Maybe that would be better.

The phone rang, and she reached for it, remembering the research projects Giles had asked her to work on. That's what she should have been doing, rather than moping. Well, she'd start working on it just as soon as she took this phone call. "Hello?"

"Willow?"

The voice was vaguely familiar, and Willow knew that she should recognize it, but she couldn't quite place it. "Yes, this is Willow."

"It's Wesley. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he added, apparently because he thought that she might know more than one Wesley.

"Oh. Oh!" Willow said, frowning. "Is everything okay? Is Angel's soul loose again?"

"Not exactly," Wesley hedged. "I'm actually in Rome. With Spike."

For a moment, Willow was tempted to clean out her ears because she was certain that she hadn't heard him correctly. Spike was dust; Buffy had watched him begin to burn up. Her next thought was that if it was true, Buffy needed to be told immediately.

"Does Buffy know?" Willow asked. "Because she should. And he's really alive?"

"He's still a vampire, but he is alive, at least metaphorically speaking," Wesley responded. "And we're actually at Buffy's apartment now. There's been some trouble. I was rather hoping Giles would have explained."

"I haven't seen him since yesterday morning, so I guess you're stuck explaining. I'm assuming that you want my help since you're calling." Willow had enjoyed working with Wesley when she'd restored Angel's soul, and she felt a pang of longing. Perhaps that was what she'd been missing—the good old days, when it had been Buffy and the Scoobies taking on the forces of evil.

Nothing was the same anymore.

"Yes, well, it seems that we might be having some trouble with the Immortal. Giles said that he would look into it, but there have been some new developments," Wesley explained. "It appears that the Immortal might be interfering with Buffy's ability to heal, among other things."

Willow didn't like the sound of that. She'd been researching Slayers and their powers recently—research that probably should have been done before she'd activated all the potentials. Of course, they hadn't had the time, and they'd had even fewer options. "What other things?" she asked sharply.

"She looks tired, run down," Wesley replied, lowering his voice. "More so than one would expect. I spoke to Dawn this morning about it, and she confirmed that the change is recent, and apparently with little real cause."

"Are you sure it's related to the Immortal?" Willow could imagine how Spike's return might give Buffy a few sleepless nights, although that wouldn't have an effect on her healing abilities.

"Fairly certain." There was a wry note to Wesley's voice. "He seems to hold some sort of power over her. Once he's in physical contact, Buffy cannot refuse him, even if she'd planned on doing so."

The only creature that Willow knew of that could match Wesley's description of Buffy's symptoms was an incubus. "Has she slept with him?" she asked bluntly.

"Twice that I'm aware of."

"Okay, I'm going to get some research together, talk to Giles about what he's discovered, and then I'll catch the next flight to Rome." Willow couldn't help but feel grateful to have a real task to accomplish, even though it appeared to be at Buffy's expense. "I'll let you know when I'll be in town."

"Thank you, Willow," Wesley said. "I look forward to seeing you again."

As Willow hung up the phone, she smiled. She was looking forward to seeing the ex-Watcher again as well.