Author: enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters below, although I wish I'd thought of them first.
Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, just ask.
Summary: A response to Helga Von Nutwimple's Vamp-in-the-Box Challenge. Wolfram & Hart make a slight error, and bring Drusilla back instead of Darla at the end of Ats S1. Drusilla heads straight to Sunnydale and Spike, and in the process throws a monkey wrench into Buffy's thinking. Oh, and Riley left after "Restless."
A/N: I don't particularly want to post the rules right now because it
will give away too much of the story. Therefore, they will be posted at
the end, and you all can decide for yourselves how well I did answering
my first challenge.
Chapter 12: Dreams That Speak
Lindsay finally found what he was looking for in the file on Angelus. It appeared that the vampire had become obsessed with a young innocent named Drusilla, and that she had a very special gift.
A very special gift indeed.
Lindsay was kicking himself for not having seen it before. They didn't need to find a way to use Drusilla to get to Angel. They just needed Drusilla. Her visions, especially those that had to do with important future events could be invaluable to the firm, which is exactly what he told Holland Manners. The fact that Holland was thrilled with the news caused Lilah's scowl to deepen even further.
"Excellent work, Lindsay," Holland congratulated him. "That's probably the reason Angel has been able to remain one step ahead of us. With Drusilla in our possession, we will have access to valuable information."
"We don't know that she'll work for us," Lilah objected. "She could decide to remain obstinate. And she's crazy. We'll have to take care of her. Personally, I think it would be a drain on Wolfram and Hart's resources."
Lindsay gave her a smug smile. "That's why it's not just Drusilla we need. The records indicate that William the Bloody was with her for over a hundred years. He took care of her, and apparently he understood her visions even when no one else did. We could still easily retrieve him from Sunnydale, just as we'd planned."
"Very well thought out," Holland stated. "If you're correct, this William the Bloody will do anything in order to protect Drusilla, and if he's incapable of harming humans, we shouldn't have a difficult time controlling him."
Lilah didn't like the sound of things. It appeared as though Lindsay had come up with the perfect plan to get himself back in favor, something that she didn't want to have happen. In fact, the worse Lindsay looked, the better Lilah would appear in contrast.
Holland continued. "Lilah, I want you to collect Drusilla. Lindsay, you can get Spike, just as we discussed. You'll have to work around the Slayer, of course, but I'm sure an intelligent young man such as yourself will come up with a plan."
Lindsay gave his co-worker a smug grin. "Oh, I'm sure."
~~~~~
Wesley and Drusilla were headed back towards his apartment. He'd decided that he didn't mind sharing space with the woman and had said as much to Angel. Wesley wasn't certain that he was looking forward to the time when she would be living elsewhere.
He found her intriguing. It was a pale word compared to his growing feelings. Drusilla was beautiful, of course, but more than that she drew him with her strength. For someone to have gone through as much as she had—to be tortured by Angelus, to lose all her family, to be a vampire for so long, only to be killed and brought back as human—Wesley was as much in love with her strength as her beauty.
Her hand was tucked through his arm, and Wesley was pleased with the contact, however chaste. "I miss my sisters," Drusilla suddenly said out of the blue.
Wesley frowned, trying to figure out where that had come from. "Your sisters?"
"We used to walk together like this," she explained quietly. "I looked after them, you know."
Wesley patted her hand comfortingly, unable to think of anything else to do. "I'm so very sorry."
"Why?" Dru asked. "It wasn't your fault."
"No," Wesley agreed. "But still, I hadn't even thought of how difficult it must be for you to be alone without your family."
Dru pressed herself closer to him. "It isn't so bad. I still have friends."
Wesley's mouth went dry, feeling her so close to him. "Yes," he said, clearing his throat and wishing he could think of something a little better to say. "You do have friends."
She was about to reply when her eyes widened. "Wesley—" Whatever she was about to say was cut off by the quiet thunk of a tranquilizer dart. Wesley caught her body as she fell unconscious, realizing that they were under attack.
He had come a long way from his days in Sunnydale, when he probably would have screamed and ran. Wesley did nothing of the sort, instead scooping up the unconscious woman and bolting for the nearest alley.
There was the sound of another dart hitting the wall behind him and shouts from their pursuers. It would not be possible for him to run nearly as far or as fast with Drusilla weighing him down. The only choice was to outwit them.
And Wesley prided himself on being able to outwit just about anyone.
~~~~~
Joyce came through the door in a whirlwind of motion. "Buffy? Are you home?"
"In the living room, Mom," Buffy called back.
"Would you mind giving me a hand, honey? I went grocery shopping on my way home, and—" Joyce was interrupted by Spike, who seemed to appear out of nowhere.
"Can I get those?"
"Oh, thank you, Spike," Joyce replied, allowing him to take a couple of the bags. "I thought I could carry them all inside."
Buffy, who had been just a little slower in getting up, frowned. She felt like Spike kept showing her up with her mom. Almost like he was playing the good kid just to make her look bad.
Or, she reminded herself, he just had a soft spot for her mother.
Buffy grabbed one of the remaining bags from Joyce's arms and carried it into the kitchen. "Are you making dinner tonight, Mom?"
"I thought I might," Joyce replied. "Especially since we have a guest."
Buffy very nearly told her mom that Spike wasn't a guest before she caught herself. She really did need to try and be nicer to the vampire, especially in her mother's presence. "Spike doesn't eat people food."
"Sure I do," Spike said. "I just don't need it like you do."
Joyce shot her daughter a look that plainly said to be nice. Which made Buffy a little angry, since she thought she was being nice. "Well, I think it would be nice if Spike could eat with us. I don't get a chance to have company very often."
Buffy bit back an exasperated sigh. "I think I might do a quick patrol then, since it's probably going to be a while."
"Alright, honey," Joyce replied. "Dinner should be ready in about an hour and a half." She watched as her daughter left. "How are you, Spike?"
Spike looked up, surprised at being asked. "I'm alright," he replied. "I, uh—" He hesitated, unused to being polite. "Thanks. For lettin' me stay."
"It's my pleasure," Joyce replied warmly.
Spike fell silent, watching as Joyce finished putting her groceries away and started making dinner. He'd promised Dru that he'd try to make the woman listen about being sick, but he had no idea where to start. "How are you, Joyce?" he asked, hoping that something she said would allow him to broach the subject.
"Oh, I'm fine." She went about her business, and Spike bit back a sigh. He had no idea what to do now. "Well, I've been having these headaches lately," Joyce admitted, almost as an afterthought. "I'm sure they're nothing."
Spike knew this was his chance. "Maybe you should get that checked out."
Joyce shrugged. "The doctors will probably just tell me I'm being silly."
"Dru said she could see you were sick," Spike replied. "I know it sounds far-fetched, but she's not usually wrong 'bout things like this."
Joyce was still not quite used to the supernatural. She'd been unaware for years, and then she'd convinced herself that the things she saw weren't really there. Looking back, Joyce knew how deeply denial had become entrenched in her reactions. She could see Spike's real concern for her, and thought perhaps she might try listening to him. "I'll make an appointment with the doctor."
Spike nodded, glad that duty had been discharged at least. "Good. That's good."
Joyce paused to smile at him warmly. "Thank you, Spike."
"For what?"
"For being concerned."
Spike couldn't help but feel a warm glow at her words.
~~~~~
When Buffy returned from patrol, it was late, and she was tired. Compared to the past few nights, the graveyards had been hopping. The Slayer was getting just a little tired of the whole thing. If it wasn't vampires, it was demons. And if it wasn't demons, it was something else just as nasty.
The house was silent as she entered, and Buffy found a note from her mom on the kitchen counter, letting her know that she'd set aside a plate for her and it was in the fridge. She stuck the plate in the microwave. As Faith had often commented, slaying always made her hungry and horny. Thankfully she could satisfy her hunger at least.
"Talked to your mum tonight."
Spike's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, causing Buffy to start. "Geez, Spike, make a little noise or something."
He grinned at her in the dim light of the kitchen. Buffy could smell cigarette smoke, and guessed that he'd been out on the back porch. "Jumpy tonight?"
"No," Buffy replied. "You just came out of nowhere."
"Which made you jump," he pointed out relentlessly.
Buffy decided to do what she did best when confronted by that kind of logic: change the subject. "What do you mean you talked to Mom tonight?"
Spike lifted an eyebrow, indicating that he knew exactly what she was doing. "About what Dru said. She's been havin' headaches, an' she said she'd go to the doctor."
Buffy wasn't sure whether or not she should be pleased. On the one hand, if Drusilla was right, then it was a good thing her mom was going to see the doctor. On the other hand, Buffy really didn't want the ex-vampire to be right. "Well, that's good," she finally replied lamely, pulling her plate out of the microwave. "Just in case."
There was a long pause as Spike watched her eat. Buffy didn't know what to say, so she ended up settling for uncomfortable silence. It went on for a while, longer than Buffy cared for, that was for certain. Buffy was afraid she'd say something she'd regret if she opened her mouth.
"'m goin' to watch the telly," Spike abruptly announced, turning to leave the kitchen.
Buffy watched him go, debating whether or not to join him. She wasn't quite ready for bed yet, and it would be nice to have company for a while. After putting her dishes in the dishwasher, she went out into the living room, sitting down next to Spike on the couch, although they weren't touching.
Spike glanced over at her once while idly flipping through the channels. "Wait," Buffy said. "That looks good."
It was a rerun of Friends, and after a moment's hesitation, Spike put the remote down. They watched the program without comment, Spike stealing occasional glimpses at the Slayer. Wondering how far she'd let him get, Spike stretched, letting his arm rest along the back of the couch so that his forearm was just behind her head.
Buffy, knowing exactly what he was doing, decided she didn't care. In fact, she was beginning to wonder how far Spike would try to push it. When he made no more moves in her direction, Buffy decided to up the ante slightly, shifting her position on the couch as though trying to get comfortable, and ending up just a few inches closer.
Spike sat frozen, hardly able to believe his luck when Buffy moved just a little closer. After a brief moment of indecision he moved his arm so that his hand was right behind her head—and then he started playing with her hair.
Buffy knew she shouldn't be enjoying this at all. She shouldn't even be sitting here. By all rights, she should have ordered Spike to stay in the basement or something, but no. Here she was, sitting on the couch next to a vampire, and very much enjoying the feeling of his hand in her hair.
She missed being touched like that.
Spike, who was getting braver with every passing second that she didn't punch him, started caressing her neck, his thumb rubbing small circles. Her sigh of pleasure was encouragement enough to continue, and he started massaging her neck in earnest.
"Don't stop," Buffy murmured, relishing the sensation. "Please."
"I'll keep it up as long as you want," Spike replied, deliberately using the double entendre.
Buffy decided to let the comment slide since she was enjoying his hands so much. "Good. Then you can do it forever."
Spike paused for a moment, wondering if she realized that forever was a very real possibility for him. "Can think of other things we could do too, Buffy."
She stiffened. "I can't, Spike."
He kept going, pressing harder into tight muscles, forcing her to relax. "Right. Evil vampire, I get it."
"Do you ever wish things were different?" Buffy asked softly, not even believing that she was talking to Spike like this. Like he was a friend—or more than a friend.
"Sometimes," he confessed, his own voice equally low—intimate. "Not often, though."
Buffy leaned back into his touch. "We shouldn't be doing this."
"I know."
"It's completely wrong."
"Absolutely."
"And even if we did do something, it would just be physical, you know. I mean, it couldn't ever be more than that for either of us."
"Of course not."
"Except of course if we were friends, and then it would just be like—like—" Buffy couldn't find an appropriate analogy to use. What did you call it if you weren't really friends but you slept together? Because she was already thinking about how good Spike's hands were going to feel somewhere else.
"Friends with benefits?" he suggested.
Buffy considered. "Well, allies with benefits, anyway."
"Are we actually havin' this conversation?" Spike asked with some amusement.
"No," Buffy replied. "Okay, yes, we're having this conversation, but it's just hypothetical."
"We could test that theory," Spike suggested.
The Slayer groaned slightly. "We could, except that my mom is here, so no."
"When this is all over then," Spike said quietly.
"Maybe," Buffy replied, turning to face him. "I don't know. It's probably stupid to even think about it."
"Probably," Spike whispered—and then kissed her.
All of Buffy's doubts about the wisdom of embarking on another relationship with a vampire evaporated at the feel of his lips. Not that they weren't still valid concerns, but suddenly kissing said vampire just seemed so much more important.
~~~~~
It had been sheer luck that got Wesley to the motel in one piece without being seen. He had managed to evade his pursuers, even with Drusilla as a burden. At one point in the nightmarish trip, Wesley had realized that if he went back towards Cordelia's apartment, as Wolfram and Hart most likely expected, he would probably run into trouble. It would be a better idea to find a spot to hole up for a while, at least until he could be assured of leaving safely.
After settling Drusilla on the single bed, he quickly dialed Cordy's number. "Hello?" came the sleepy response.
"Cordelia?"
"Who else would it be at—" There was a slight pause. "—two in the morning? And why are you calling at two in the morning, anyway?"
"We were attacked on the way home," Wesley replied.
Her tone sharpened. "Are you alright? Is Dru—"
"Here with me," Wesley replied. "I managed to evade them, but Drusilla was hit by some kind of tranquilizer dart and hasn't woken yet."
Wesley could hear a hissed conversation and suddenly it was Angel's voice on the other end. "Are you safe?"
"For now," Wesley replied. "I don't think we were followed."
Angel let out a breath. "Good. Stay where you are and look after Dru. I'm going to do what I can to figure out what's going on."
"Angel, be careful," Wesley warned.
"You too," Angel replied. "I'm counting on you to take care of her, Wes."
Wesley heard the click on the other end and put the handset down. He stood next to the bed, hesitating. There really wasn't a choice for sleeping arrangements other than the floor. With a deep sigh, he toed off his shoes and lay down next to the unconscious woman. After a moment of indecision, Wesley took Drusilla's hand in his own, hoping his touch would comfort her as she began to awaken.
And even though he didn't mean to, Wesley soon drifted off to sleep.