Hello Again
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG-15
Disclaimer: We all know the truth. None of these characters are mine, and if I were making money off of them, I could quit my job and go write on a beach somewhere.
Summary: A sequel to my short story, Summer Vacation. After the events of Forgiving, Wesley decides to take action after losing Connor, and finds something he never expected.
A/N: Because there’s quite a bit of time between this story and the last, there’s quite a bit of catching up to do. All will be explained eventually, but you’ll have to hang in there with me for a bit. Also, I’m playing around with time and canon. You’ll see what I mean.
Chapter 1: An
Unexpected Letter
“Just say ‘when’ and you'll stop the pain of your life,/Bring it to an end./Just say ‘when’ and you could make amends/Just say hello, say hello again.../Hello again, it's not that hard./No dead ends, even with the scars…” ~Lostprophets, “Hello Again”
Wesley put the box down on the floor and dropped his keys on top. The doctors had reluctantly allowed him to leave the hospital, not believing that he was ready to go home. He had insisted, and they had given in.
He sat down on the couch wearily, flipping through the stack of bills that had piled up over the last few days—or perhaps it should be weeks, since he hadn’t been paying much attention to his mail. Among the bills, however, was a pastel-colored envelope addressed in an unfamiliar hand.
With a frown, Wesley tore it open, pulling out the folded sheet of paper enclosed. His eyes skipped down to the signature, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw Buffy’s name. He started reading from the beginning.
“Dear Wesley,
It’s been a while
since I’ve heard from you. I tried calling a couple of times, but I just got
your machine. I figured I’d try a letter, since you’re all about the written
word. Things here have been pretty normal. We managed to stop the nerds from
taking over Sunnydale, although not before they killed a girl. Other than that,
Xander actually went through with his marriage to Anya. He probably would have
backed out, but Spike figured out that there was a demon involved, and we
managed to get him to go through with it.
That’s pretty much it
for me. You know if you need any help at all, just call, or come down. It’s
been too long.
Take care,
Buffy”
He held the letter like a lifeline, hardly able to believe the opportunity that had just been presented. There was really no chance he’d be accepted back into the fold, not after Angel had attempted to kill him.
There were some things that could never be forgiven.
He had been certain that his life was over, that he had lost every friend he had, and with nothing to show for it, but Buffy’s missive reminded him that there was still hope. It might only be a faint hope, but if anyone could help him get Connor back, it would be the Slayer and her friends.
Although he’d been told that he could drive, Wesley had a feeling that it didn’t extend to driving three hours to Sunnydale. There wasn’t time to be indecisive, however. Every moment that Connor was in Quortoth was another moment too long.
~~~~~
“Hit me.”
“I’d rather avoid the headache.”
Buffy glared at him. “You know what I mean.”
Spike smirked. “Yeah, but it’s fun to wind you up.” He tossed her a card. “Nibblet?”
“Sure.” The girl stared at the cards in her hand with an adorably intense look on her face.
Spike leaned back in his chair, careful to avoid showing his hand. “Time to ante up.”
Buffy shook her head. “I fold.”
“Nibblet?”
“Is this a good hand?”
When Dawn put her cards down face-up to reveal a royal flush, Spike fixed her with a stern expression. “You cheated.”
“I did not!” she shot back hotly. “And you were the one dealing.”
He had to acknowledge her point. “Fine, you win.”
Buffy smiled. “Come on, Spike. I’ll help.”
The stakes had been a little higher than he would have liked, since the loser was the one slated to clean up the kitchen. Between the three of them, dinner might get made, but the operation usually left the kitchen a disaster area.
Still, Spike didn’t mind helping, not when it allowed him to spend more time with Buffy—whether it was making dinner, going over homework with the two of them, or patrolling with the Slayer.
Dawn smiled smugly. “I’m going upstairs.”
“To do your homework,” Buffy insisted. “Do not make me ask you again, otherwise you’ll be the one cleaning up for the rest of the week.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “Homework.”
When Dawn had trooped up the stairs, Buffy leaned in close to him. “You fed her those cards.”
He snorted, rising to go into the kitchen, Buffy on his heels. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Spike, I know you, and I can tell when you’re cheating.” Buffy looked amused. “You were cheating tonight, and you lost.”
He shrugged. “Know the Bit’s been having a rough time at school recently, an’ I thought winnin’ might cheer her up.” When she just stared at him, he focused on the running water in the sink. “Didn’t think it would be a big deal.”
“It’s not.”
Spike wondered how long it would be before Buffy figured out that the mild crush she knew about was actually love. She’d taken the news that he liked her pretty well; Spike didn’t know what she’d say when she figured out the truth.
“You gave me an odd look.”
“It was sweet, Spike.” She raised an eyebrow. “You keep surprising me.”
He looked at her warily. “In a good way, I hope?”
“Yeah, in a good way.” Buffy picked up the dish towel. “Let’s get this taken care of.”
On occasion, Spike felt that they were moving towards something important, something real, but more often he was just content with her friendship.
It didn’t hurt that she hadn’t dated anyone since Riley.
Buffy was drying the last of the dishes when the doorbell rang. “Would you get that, Spike?”
“Sure, luv.” He was feeling more than a little resentful of the interruption; it wasn’t often that he and Buffy got time alone without her friends hanging about, or vampires and demons interrupting them on patrol.
What he’d expected was
“Is Buffy here?”
His voice was a mere rasp, and Spike’s attention was drawn to the gauze pad on his neck. “Yeah. Can I tell her who’s here?”
“Wes?” Buffy’s voice came from behind him. “What are you—no, wait. What happened to you?”
He offered her a pained smile. “My throat was cut.” Hesitating, he added, “I received your letter. I need your assistance.”
“Come in,” she insisted, ushering him inside.
Spike shut the door behind the other man, feeling even more glum. He remembered Wesley now; Buffy had said that he was her old Watcher, and that they’d hit it off when she’d been visiting her father almost two years ago.
He had a feeling that they were going to hit it off again.
“Spike, you remember Wesley, right? From Mom’s funeral.” Buffy had already settled Wesley on the couch.
Spike nodded shortly. “I remember. You look a bit worse for wear this time.”
“I’m very sorry to burst in like this,” Wesley said. “I would have called first, but—quite frankly, I wasn’t sure my nerve would hold if I had to explain the situation over the phone.”
“What situation?” Buffy pressed.
Wesley hesitated. “Has Angel said anything to you about having a son?”
Buffy’s eyes went wide, and Spike spoke for the both of them. “Vampires can’t have children. You’re a Watcher; you know that as well as I do.”
He winced. “Yes, well, it seems that this story is going to take a little longer than I thought.”
~~~~~
Wesley had nearly turned around and driven off when he’d reached Buffy’s house. The last time he’d been there was for Joyce’s funeral, and they hadn’t said much to one another at the time. There had been a few phone calls and emails in between—not much, but enough to keep the connection.
As friendly as they’d become, however, he had no hope that would continue once Buffy found out what he’d done. Angel was her first love, and he’d betrayed the vampire in the worst possible way.
He hadn’t expected to find Spike answering the door when he arrived, and he wondered what the vampire was doing there. Wesley knew that he and Buffy had become allies, but it appeared as though he was interrupting a night in.
Wesley was about to launch into his story when a teenage girl entered the living room. “I thought I heard someone come in,” she said. “What—” She stopped and stared at Wesley. “What’s he doing here?”
He blinked, remembering all at once that Dawn was Buffy’s younger sister. She’d grown up quite a bit in the intervening years. “Hello, Dawn.”
“Wes is here to get some help, Dawnie,” Buffy said, a warning in her voice. “Be nice.”
Dawn crossed her arms in front of her. “Fine.”
Buffy gave him a look that said plainly, “Don’t mind my sister.” She sat down on the couch next to him. “Go ahead, Wesley.”
He took a deep breath, wondering how to begin. “You’ve heard of the law firm, Wolfram and Hart?”
“That’s the one Dru told me about when she breezed through town,” Spike inserted. He was leaning up against the doorway. “She said they’d brought Darla back, too, but I thought she was just talkin’ about another one of her visions.”
“No, she was right,” Wesley replied. “They did bring Darla back. She’s Connor’s mother.”
Buffy raised a hand to stop him. “Whoa. Angel slept with Darla?”
“I think I told you that Angel had fired us?”
Buffy nodded. “Yeah. You said he was going through a dark time.” She glanced at Spike. “Drusilla told him that Angel had locked her and Darla in a room full of lawyers.”
“Talk about irony,” Dawn muttered.
Spike snorted. “Somethin’ like that, but she wasn’t dreamin’ that either, apparently.”
Wesley shook his head. “No.” Slowly, he began to tell them about the last few months—Darla showing up pregnant, her sacrificing herself, Holtz, Connor, the prophecy he’d been so sure meant that Angel would kill his own son. And his betrayal. He didn’t spare himself, knowing that he would need to be honest if Buffy were to help him.
“I won’t blame you if you don’t want to help,” Wesley finished. “I know I hurt Angel badly, and that he’s—”
“He’s my ex-boyfriend,” Buffy said, interrupting him. “You’re my friend. Besides, you might have screwed up, but at least it was with good intentions. I can’t say the same for other people I know.”
His shoulders slumped in relief. Buffy spoke the words he’d wanted to hear from Angel, from his friends. “Then you’ll help?”
“Uh, yeah,” Buffy said, her expression reminding him of Cordelia. “You’re talking about a crazy vampire hunter from the 18th century who kidnapped an innocent baby. Now that the nerds are gone, we’ve been kind of bored.”
“Speak for yourself,” Spike murmured. “I was enjoyin’ the break.”
Wesley looked at Buffy to see if the vampire was serious. “Be nice, Spike,” she said. “We’re helping.”
“Right, because I love helpin’ Peaches.” The vampire sighed. “But since it’s a baby, I’ll let it go.” Spike perked up. “’Course, if we save the kid, Peaches is gonna be in my debt, an’ I can live with that.”
Buffy smiled, as though she’d expected that. “What do we need to do, Wesley?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve been in the hospital, and most of my books are at the hotel with Angel. I don’t know what he’s done to try and get Connor back, but I have no doubt that he has tried.”
Buffy nodded. “We’ll go to the Magic Box tomorrow. Giles
left most of his books, and there should be something there that can help. I’ll
let
“You think that’s a good idea?” Spike asked.
She sighed. “I don’t know, but I’m not sure there’s a
choice.
“She might be,” Dawn said. “We don’t know unless we ask.”
“It would save time if we asked both of them,” Buffy observed. “But I don’t really want to get in the middle of things.”
Wesley frowned. “Is there something wrong?”
“
The question he was going to ask was broken up by a yawn, and Buffy stood. “Come on. You can have the guest room.”
“I don’t want to put you out,” he protested.
She snorted. “What? You thought I was going to kick you out? That’s what it’s there for. Dawn, why don’t you show him upstairs? I’ll walk Spike out.”
“I have a bag in my car,” he said. “I wasn’t sure how long it would take to find Connor.”
Buffy smiled. “I’ll grab it. You look like you’re about ready to collapse.”
Wesley gave her his keys and told her where to find his bag, then watched her walk out with Spike thoughtfully. The two of them seemed very close, much closer than he would have expected.
“I hope you’re not getting any ideas,” Dawn said repressively.
“Excuse me?”
“Ideas,” she repeated. “About Buffy.”
“We’re friends,” he said defensively.
Dawn sniffed. “Sure you are. Everybody is Buffy’s friend. She has guys falling down at her feet every time she turns around.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is there someone you have in mind for her?”
“Maybe,” Dawn said.
If he was going to be staying at the Summers’ place for any length of time, Wesley knew it was in his best interests to make peace with the younger girl. “Your sister and I are friends. I’m interested in someone else.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not just saying that?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Dawn sounded remarkably more cheerful. “Good.”
Wesley suddenly knew exactly who she had in mind. “Not Spike.”
She smirked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Dawn pushed the door open. “This is the guest room. Sleep tight!”
He walked inside the room wearily, not quite able to believe that he was here, back in Sunnydale. This place had been the site of his greatest humiliation—until Justine had slit his throat. His failure to protect Connor was certainly worse. Much, much worse.
“Hey.” He turned to see Buffy standing in the doorway, holding his bag. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Wesley didn’t move to take it from her; he was too tired.
She gave him a sympathetic look. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired.” He hesitated. “And I’m in a bit of pain.”
“Do you have anything?” she asked. “I think I still have some pain medication from the last time I had to go to the hospital.”
He shook his head. “No, I have some.”
She nodded. “Okay. Good night, Wesley.”
“Buffy.” Wesley called her back, loath to let her out of his sight. She was the first friendly face he’d seen in days, and he couldn’t help but think that her letter had been a lifeline, whether she knew it or not. “Thank you.”
She didn’t ask what he was referring to. “You’re welcome.”
It was odd, Wesley thought, as she closed the door behind her. Being there should have felt strange, but instead it was comforting.
~~~~~
Buffy looked out her bedroom window, unsurprised to see the orange point of light under her tree out front. She had known that Spike wasn’t thrilled about Wesley staying with her, and that he was jealous. If she didn’t know him as well as she did, Buffy might have missed it, because he’d hidden it pretty well.
She slid the window open. The breeze sent the faintest hint of cigarette smoke her way, and Buffy smiled to think of how comforting the scent had become.
The fact that Spike had feelings for her wasn’t a secret; the only person who was still oblivious was Xander, and that was only because he refused to see it.
Their relationship hadn’t changed overnight; Buffy had been none too sure about Lorne’s advice, particularly after Spike had attempted to get the chip out of his head. After that, however, he had been marginally more helpful, she’d reciprocated, then he’d been a little more helpful, and consequently she hadn’t punched him in the nose quite so often, until Spike had finally admitted that he “liked” her when she’d called him on it.
That had been shortly before Drusilla had rolled into town, and while Spike hadn’t staked her, he had forced her to leave, and had later shared the information he’d gleaned from her.
Funny, how easy it had become to trust him over the last year. At the moment, Buffy would have to admit that Spike was the one she trusted most, even beyond her friends.
She watched as he came out from under the tree, taking a last, long drag on his cigarette before flicking it out into the darkness. He glanced up at her window, and stopped, clearly surprised to see her there.
Buffy smiled and raised her eyebrow in a silent question, wondering what explanation he’d give for standing out in her front yard.
Spike just shrugged, glancing down at the ground in a shy gesture she’d come to expect. “Goodnight, Spike,” Buffy said quietly, knowing that he’d be able to hear her.
He raised a hand in farewell and turned to walk away, but not before she’d caught the naked longing on his face.
Buffy slid the window shut and sighed. She was going to have to do something about that, and soon. The question was what that something might be.