Title: Tangled Web Author: SunnyD_lite Spoilers: Shells Pairing: None- friendship/animosity between all the characters Summary: How long can you keep a secret? And how do you fight your own demons? Rating: PG-13 -language Disclaimer: I claim these characters for the Queen of Sheba, just kidding they are owned by Joss, Mutant Enemy, and other corporate entities - I'm just playing with them. Author's Notes: This started as a ficlet - boy did it grow. You may have read the first part, Spike and Wesley posted under Avon Calling and Swiss Cheese. There rest flows from there. Spike's got their back. Hugs and Jelly Doughnuts to my betas PattyAnne, a_r_evett and desoto_hai_873, they made sure that my mad musings made sense - and cut down on the alliteration! All errors are mine. FEEDBACK: Pretty please? Chapter One - Avon Calling He ignored the knocking. There was no one with whom he wished to speak. They had used all of the resources at their disposal and it hadn't mattered. They had lost, in all senses of the word. Lost direction, lost purpose, lost to an Ancient One...lost Fred. "Oi, Watcher, I know you're in there. I can hear you, and why are you drinking that gut rot when I've got a nice Irish Whiskey here?" Wesley shook his head, muttering "Why don't you go bug Angel?" "Hey! I heard that. Peaches is sleeping, no fun in that. But that's not why I'm here. Let me in Watcher! Or I could just stand here all night and drink the Jameson myself. Bet your neighbours would love that." "When you put it that way..." Wesley continued to mutter as he crossed to his apartment's door. He opened it and tried to grab the bottle from a not so surprised Spike, who was holding the bottle behind him. "Hey now, none of that, it's me AND the bottle either in or on your doorstep. That's your only choice, mate. Vampire here, heard you walking to the door. Did Angel really let his guard down so much that none of you can remember basic vamp powers? Let us in, that's a good fellow." Not really sure why, but having reached the end of his endurance for anything, Wesley backed away from the door saying, "I'll probably regret this, and I do have a dis-invite spell but...come on in, Spike." "That's more like it, and I even brought you a host present. More then you did when you dropped by my place. It would have been single malt, but the Poof doesn't seem to stock any. And I'm not sure if you need anymore. How long have you been working on this binge? and your drinking what...Wild Turkey?" "It was her favourite." "'Nough said then," Spike nodded in understanding. "But now that you've honoured her piss poor taste in alcohol, let's move on for the medicinal properties." Spike wandered to the kitchen to grab a couple of clean tumblers and a side of water for each of them. He set them on the coffee table in front of Wes and indicated Wes should open the bottle. Wesley just stared straight ahead. Looking into a middle ground invisible to others. Spike sighed and began preparing the drinks. He shoved one into Wes' hand and said, "To Fred". "To Fred" was Wesley's Pavlovian response. Years of etiquette kicked in without conscious thought. He shook himself and turned to his 'guest', saying in a tired voice, "Why are you here, Spike?" "Come on mate, that line needs a bit more practice. Are you asking WHY am I here? or Why am *I* here? or Why am I, HERE? Really, one would think you'd never gone through the British school system with its insipid drama and pantomime productions. And what with you being Head Boy and all, I'd imagine you were at least forced to watch if not participate. Still not sure how you were elected Head Boy anyway... was Hogwart's leadership based on marks or the Headmaster's pick? Don't see you winning any popularity contests, even with a bunch of Watcher-larvae." Wesley just continued to stare, not having the energy to respond to Spike's diatribe. "Fine, be that way. *I'm* here because, believe it or not, I'm one of the few people who knows what you're going through. Sure, in this champion gig there are always losses, but I had to spend a summer looking at a mechanical duplicate of the....." Spike shook his head and continued in a normal voice. "Anyway it walked....it talked.....it wasn't HER. So mate, drink up! There's plenty more in the bottle." That bit of information caused Wesley to really look at Spike, brow furrowed in both questions and comprehension. He hadn't told anyone about the various conversations he'd had with 'it' (his mind veering away from the name of the entity now in residence). He hadn't known how sharp the pain would be, to see and be unable to touch was one thing. To see and know it wasn't her was almost intolerable. But like many things, the intolerable had to be bourne. He was the one who could bear anything. It was what he did. But tonight it looked like he might not have to bear it alone. ************ a half bottle later************************ His hands shook as he held the glass, sloshing the amber liquid, opening its unique bouquet. Although LA wasn't the proper climate for whiskey, something darker and forbidding being more apropos, tonight it seemed like the perfect beverage. What LA couldn't provide, his emotions more than made up for the lack thereof. "How did you know where I'd be?" Wesley asked his companion. "It wasn't that difficult, I imagine that even the bloody Scoobies could have solved this one. You weren't in your office, ergo you were at home. Not airing dirty laundry in public and all that rot. You and Rupes are more alike than you think. He also squirrelled up in residence with a fine Glen-whatever during the interval. Figured you've had a spot of violence and would have moved on to the brooding. Seems I'm right on the money there." That comment earned Spike a glare, yet Wesley was still too engrossed in his own emotions to put a lot of effort into it. Spike continued, "At this point I'm guessing that you are figuring out different things you or the team could have done to solve it faster. To block the spell, to save the girl. You've probably come up with several and are kicking yourself black and blue for not seeing it before." Another glare, this one a little longer. "I could feed you various platitudes; 'time heals all wounds' 'you did what you could' ... but I know that will not stop you from thinking on it. In fact, truth be told, you'll probably be thinking on it for quite a while." While that comment could have been snide, especially since it was coming from Spike, it sounded more, well... regretful sprang to mind. "So mate, if you want to talk, if you want to remember, if you just want to sit and drink, well we still have half a bottle." "What was it like for you?" Now it was Spike's turn to glare. "Don't like to talk about it" he muttered. "While now, how surprising is that? Did you come here to play therapist, planning the use what you learned against me? Against us? Is this part of some plot? Why ARE you here, Spike?" Wesley wasn't sure why the muttering vamp had set him off, but being on the offensive felt good. "You are off your bloody rocker. I'm a CHAMPION now, what did Faith say? 'pulling for the good guys' - even bloody Angel has admitted that," Spike huffed. "And I alway knew you Watcher types were shite with recording what really happens. Most of my long term plans went pear-shaped. Not that they were bad plans, mind you. Just never ended up following them. I'm known far and wide for my impatience. That was how I met the Slayer's mom, the first time. Couldn't wait to St. Vigeous and got hit on the head with an axe, courtesy of Joyce Summers. She was a lady. Still miss her. Were you ever introduced?" The change in tone from rough east side to tonney aristocrat was enough to shock Wesley into speech. "No, I never was. Buffy refused to introduce her mother to what I believe she considered an annoyance rather than her Watcher. Dawn seemed like a polite child though. The few times she was in the library being baby sat while the rest of the madness occurred." "Yeah the Bit, wouldn't mind seeing her again. Not sure if the feelings reciprocated. Hey, no diversionary tactics, Watcher. This is about your missus, not my misses. What are you going to do with all of her commemorative plates?" "Smart as a whip, but who'd have excepted that she'd have a thing for old musicals? I could have understood if she'd collected the Babylon 5 plates or even classic Trek, given her science background that would have complemented her interests, but Oklahoma? Carrousel? Lorne was giddy when she showed him, I'd say green with envy but he now has access to the original film prints. I could check if her parents...... dear lord, we haven't told her parents! What can we tell them, what if they see IT? We must do something?" Wesley started to leap up, overbalanced and flopped back on to the chesterfield, knocking the coffee table. Only Spike's vamp speed let him grab hold of the bottle and Wesley's glass, his own being long empty. "Careful there, Watcher. It's two in the morning. Small chance of her parents dropping by immediately. Settle yourself. You're right though. It is a matter which will have to be attended to. After a few more drinks, I think." "You need something to focus on." Spike continued while pouring another large whiskey for Wesley. "It's the only thing that saw me through. I'd made a promise, you see. I had to pull myself together in order to keep it. Didn't want to, wanted to die myself but that wouldn't have helped. And an ocean of alcohol couldn't have kept the pain at bay, trust me on that one. I'd failed her, but couldn't take the coward's way out. Had to continue.... made a promise to a lady." The last part sounded almost ritualistic in its cadence. Wesley again began to wonder who was this person they called Spike, and how much did they really know about him. "Was this after the soul, then?" "It has NOTHING to do with the soul. I made a promise. I chose to keep it. Soul's no part of that equation. Take your Watcher's mantel off for the night. What's your plan for tomorrow? More 'Dirty Harry' at the office? That's one approach to encourage turn over." Wesley noticed that when you hit a sore spot with Spike, he invariably was able to poke back in an equally tender area. "So you heard about that, then? It seemed the right thing to do at the time," Wesley sighed. "At least the medical benefits package is generous enough that no one ever sues for 'on site accidents'." "Do you chaps even listen to yourselves any more?" a disgusted Spike sputtered. "Medical Benefits? Law suits? And THIS from the crowd going to help the helpless. A place like that changes you, mate. Not the other way around. Anyway, wrong topic. Tomorrow. What are you going to do?" "What does one do? One's duty, soldiering forward. Funny, this seems a little familiar." Wesley shook his head. "No, it's gone. I guess I should check in with Angel, strategize on our next step." "What about Gunn?" "Do not mention THAT name to me." "So ....it's not enough that you stabbed the boy, you going to freeze him out too?" "It's what they did to me when..." Wesley unconsciously rubbed the scar at his throat. "When, what? and when did you get that scar? Looks like there's quite a story behind it." "What scar? Oh this thing. I really don't recall." Though a name bubbled up through his sub-conscience and he muttered, "Justine". "Justine? Is she the bird who gave you that necklace? Must have done her wrong. But back to Gunn. He's been your mate for years. Fine, be mad at him. You've already gone the pound of flesh route. But is that your permanent solution? Grant you, it was right selfish what he did, but it wasn't premeditated. He thought he was doing it for the team's good as well, or at least that probably his justification." "Ends justify the means? And what would these ends justify? Plus he made an easy choice without the information while I had to ... it's gone." "You know that this conversation is a lot like speaking to a piece of Swiss cheese.... it's full of holes." Spike signed and poured another glass of whiskey, tipping the bottle so the last of the liquor dripped out. "So tomorrow, sorry today, you'll ignore Gunn and talk to Angel. Well it's better then curling up in bed for the duration. Duty, got to love it. Doesn't have quite the ring of Death, Glory and sod all else, but if it works..." Spike shrugged handed the glass to Wesley and said,"To Fred". Wesley nodded. Closed his eyes against the tears which threatened and threw back his drink. It still hurt. It would still hurt for quite a while he expected but he had gotten through tonight, something he hadn't been so sure about a few hours ago. His talk with Spike HAD raised questions, and questions meant a direction, direction meant a focus and a reason to get up in the morning. It wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be joyful but grim purpose beat the lost feeling of earlier this evening. He would continue. Holding up the empty glass, he said, "To Fred".