Remember
Author: enigmaticblue
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters; Joss & Co. do. Too bad, so sad.
Summary: Remember, remember, the 5th of November. Set during Ats S5, and assumes Spike is solid at this point.
A/N: Written for my 2009 holiday ficathon for garnigal, who wanted Wes and Spike, Guy Fawkes Day, fires burning.


“We have a report of a ritual to raise a demon occurring at a warehouse.” Angel passed the file to Wesley across the conference table. “And I have a meeting with the envoy from Archduke Sebassis that I can’t miss.”

Wesley raised an eyebrow. “What about Gunn?”

“He has a court appearance.”

Wesley sighed and wondered when they had become so distracted by meaningless bureaucracy and meetings.

The door swung open and Spike swaggered through. “Look, it’s Percy and Peaches.”

“Take Spike with you,” Angel suggested.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’s either that, or I stake him.”

Wesley thought about it for a moment.

“You need backup, Wes.” Angel waved them both out the door. “Go, take care of the demon thing.”

“You can’t just order me about,” Spike protested. “I might have better things to do!”

“Other than saving the entire city from destruction by a demon?” Wesley inquired.

Spike scowled. “Fine.”

Wesley wasn’t entirely happy with this plan either; he would much prefer Angel or Gunn’s company—or Fred’s, for that matter, even though things had been awkward between them since Halloween.

Spike sulked all the way to the warehouse where the demon raising was supposed to take place. Wesley had refused to let him drive on the grounds that Spike had totaled the last car he’d borrowed. When he pulled up in front of the building, Wesley was certain for a moment that Spike was going to refuse to get out of the car.

“Let’s get this done.” Spike climbed out of the car gracefully, scowl firmly in place, reaching for the ax he’d brought along.

Wesley checked his pistols and twitched his coat into place.

“You ever miss real weather?” Spike asked suddenly, out of the blue.

“Real weather?”

“Rain, fog, gray skies, all of that,” Spike replied. “Used to be, we’d light a bonfire and keep warm that way, have fireworks, burn a guy.”

It took Wesley a moment to remember that today was Guy Fawkes’ Day, and he wondered if he’d been in America too long. “We might yet have a fire if we don’t take care of this.”

Spike snorted. “Lead the way, Percy.”

Wesley sighed but decided that arguing with Spike was a waste of his time.

Five minutes later, Wesley wished fervently that they’d brought more backup, and he was incredibly grateful for Spike’s presence. As annoying as the vampire might be, Wesley knew that Spike was the only person standing between him and death.

The cult attempting to summon the demon was, unfortunately, comprised of adults who were all too willing to kill in order to achieve their goals; Wesley much preferred frightened adolescents too stupid to know better.

But since they were human, Wesley’s guns worked just fine, even though he hated to be put in the position of shooting them to save himself.

Wesley shot one of the cultists as he came up behind Spike with a stake; Spike returned the favor a moment later by running a woman through who was poised to shoot Wesley with a crossbow while he reloaded.

In the chaos, the candles lighting up the altar were overturned, and Spike grabbed Wesley’s arm. “We have to get out of here!”

Wesley looked around, and saw the flames that were beginning to lick at the walls. “Bugger.”

“You said it.” Spike pulled on his arm again to get him moving, and with one last glance at the scattered bodies, Wesley followed him out.

Once on the street, Wesley paused to take in the fire, and the damage caused, and he sighed, wishing there had been another way.

Spike stood next to him, hands in the pockets of his duster, watching as the flames began to eat at the roof of the warehouse. “Remember, remember the 5th of November.”

Wesley smiled a little grimly. “You did wish for a bonfire.”

“Bonfires aren’t any good without a guy.” Spike shot him a sly look. “I’d make him look like Angel.”

“Of course you would.” Wesley tried to make his tone repressive, but he couldn’t help the smile that formed. “Come on,” he said. “I owe you a drink for saving my life.”

“Several times over,” Spike pointed out relentlessly. “You were lucky to have me here.”

“Yes, I was,” Wesley admitted, and a real smile formed as he saw Spike’s surprised expression.

Perhaps he should try being nice to Spike more often, Wesley thought. It seemed to shut him up more effectively than anything else.