Chapter Five

 

----====Wesley====----

For some long moments after Rupert had gone from the Folly, I stared at the doorway, trying to make the drunken thoughts that staggered about on the pavements of my mind line up in an orderly fashion.

I said to Spike, "Did he really just say that?"

"You mean the being our daddy thing? Yeah, think so."

"Bloody hell," I swore.

"Bloody, as you so rightly state, hell."

I stared at the door a little longer, lost in wonder and gratitude for the man that was Rupert Giles, and then I shook myself out of it. Sitting cross-legged on the ground should have been a cold and unpleasant prospect at this time of night, but somehow it wasn't. Rupert's magical fire in front of us did not seen to radiate a burning heat, but the air in the Folly was definitely a comfortable temperature and the ground itself was not chilled. His magic, like his words, surrounded me with warmth.

Turning to Spike, I said, "Are you doing alright?" Not good English, but I was quite fantastically drunk so I had an excuse. It had been a long time since I had felt quite so... loosened. Having said that, the longer I remained in the Folly, the more my mind seemed to clear.

Spike replied, "Yeah, I'm good, Wes."

"No, you're not," I argued. He tipped his head questioningly to the side, and I told him, "There's as much going on for you here as there is for me. I'm sorry, so sorry, I shouldn't have done this to you. But I couldn't not invite Angel. Maybe I should have had two parties - Sunnydale and the UK on the one hand, and LA on the other. Or maybe three - so my mother could have a party all on her own. Oh lord, perhaps four so that..."

A pale and very strong hand appeared on my knee. "Wes, mate, you're off in babbleland."

"Oh no," I disagreed with a grin, "I think you'll find that this is prattle-city."

Spike laughed and sat back. "You've drunk enough today to knock out Dumbo's mum. Be grateful you can still talk at all."

"You've drunk a fair amount yourself," I pointed out. "How much does it take to get you pissed anyway?"

"Depends," he shrugged. "I try to avoid it these days."

I asked gently, "Because of what happened with Buffy?"

He threw me a glance, his eyes sparking with the firelight. "Yeah, cos of that. The thing I'm not allowed to talk about around Giles."

"He's not here now," I observed.

Spike sighed. "What d'you wanna know, Wes? I've already told you what happened more or less."

"Just tell me what you need to confess to, what will be eased a little if you talk about it."

There was a long silence as Spike drew his legs up under his chin and stared sightlessly at the flames. His position seemed to echo my own when Rupert had been here and we'd spoken of my father. The darkness seemed to draw in around us again now.

In a low voice, made rough with strain, Spike told me, "I tried to force myself on her. Didn't go there to do that, but I lost it, didn't I? Tried to rape her. She was shutting me out and I wanted back in."

"With all due respect, Spike, she's a Slayer. Would it even be possible for you to rape her?"

"That's not the point, and anyway she was hurt, not herself. The point is that she said 'no'. She said it a lot. And I didn't hear her. Got used to not listening to 'no' over the decades. In fact, the screams of 'no, stop it, don't' got to be an aphrodisiac..." The vampire shuddered violently and curled up even more tightly. "Odd that, after how it had been for..." he trailed off.

There was silence for a while as I waited to see if there was more to come. What he was saying was horrific, but I had once had a demon's urges inside of me. So powerful I could do nothing to stop myself committing horrible acts of violence and misogyny. I knew in a small way what it must have been like for him. And yet Spike had been strong enough that he, unlike any vampire before him, could battle down the demon sufficiently to seek and win the return of his soul.

Eventually Spike muttered from the centre of the ball he'd crawled into, "Funny really. Dru... she liked, no, *needed* the pain. She wanted to be hurt, had to have it. I loved her so I hurt her - whatever she wanted, playing out what he did to her over and over again."

He took a long breath and looked at me. "Then I fell for Buffy. I tried to learn how to be what she wanted. But I wasn't, I couldn't be, not then. Demon liked the screams and missed them. I go to see her, wanting to talk about 'us' when there was no 'us'. Was nothing inside me to step in and say 'no, listen', not with the drink and the pain. Result, well, you know. And I'll never bloody well forgive myself."

I said carefully, "Spike, it's not my place to forgive you or grant you absolution for everything you've done, and perhaps you shouldn't have those things yet anyway. But there is no doubt in my mind that you are now good man and a hero on the scale of those epic tales we love to ridicule, but all secretly admire. Hate what you were, by all means, but please don't hate what you've become."

He looked over at me, and I could see the glint of tears on his prominent cheekbones. He smiled crookedly and said, "You're right about this gathering. I got issues sprouting into bloom left, right and bleeding centre here, but, Wes, I wouldn't miss this for the world. I'm your Best bloody Man - you got any idea what that means to me?"

I look at him solemnly, if somewhat hazily. "I know what your friendship means to *me*."

Spike looked like he wanted to bear hug me, but showed admirable restraint and merely grinned hugely. "The soul's come with so many rewards. Hurts so bloody much to have it in me, but it's worth every second of pain, every scream on constant replay. Deserve to suffer, know that alright. But I'm so bloody lucky, Wes. Cos I didn't just get the soul. I got the girl I love and the two best friends a vamp could hope for."

"And in that respect, as well as many others, you've been more fortunate than Angel," I pointed out.

Spike looked sour. "Poof's got a son. What more does he want?"

"Well, I suspect he'd quite liked to have seen the son grow up," I commented wryly, feeling the inevitable sting of a guilt that I was quite certain would never entirely fade. "Do you envy Angel Connor, Spike? When you have so much more than him?"

"Don't envy him nothing. But Buffy does."

"Ah, I see. She wants children?"

"Yeah. But she's the Slayer and I'm dead, so it ain't to be. Your Dad really lock you in a cupboard, Wes?"

I groaned softly, clearly Spike didn't want to talk about their childless situation, but was this really an acceptable alternative topic? I answered, "Yes, among other things," and reached for the whisky bottle. I was starting to feel annoyingly sober and suspected Rupert's magical fire of having properties beyond light and heat.

Spike watched me drink and then asked, "What for? Or was it, y'know, just random cruelty to show who was boss? Imposing dominance like a over-active alpha gorilla or something."

Now I might not be the most instinctively perceptive person in the world, but that last comment wasn't entirely about my experiences. I said, "Oh, there was always some flimsy excuse or another. Perhaps he interpreted an apology as answering back or maybe I was slow to meet a deadline. What did Angelus do to you, Spike?"

The vampire tensed. "Weren't we talking about you?"

"I think we were talking about both of us."

"Bugger. Hell, Wes, you don't wanna know the details, believe me."

"I think you need to talk about them," I insisted.

Spike shook his head. "Not to you, he's your mate."

"Angelus is not my mate. Angelus is an inhuman psychotic. Angel is... was... no, *is* my friend. It's very unlikely that the details would traumatise or even surprise me, Spike. I have no delusions about the reality of Angel sans soul."

"Still ain't gonna tell you. Soul tells me that would be wrong."

I frowned. "Your soul's a bit of a prissy do-gooder, if you ask me."

Spike laughed loudly and slapped me on the back, but then he grew serious again. "Thing is, Wes. I was a soulless vampire, if I didn't deserve the treatment at the time, I certainly did afterwards. Things I did to my victims, I was no better than him..." Spike trailed off, lost in a world of remorse. I reached out and touched his arm in what I hoped was a comforting manner.

He gave me a small, brief smile, and continued with his point. "You were just a kid, no one could claim you deserved what that bastard did to you."

But people had indeed claimed that. Looking deeply into Rupert's fire, I said, "There's never any excuse for cruelty, no matter who or what the recipient."

We reached for the bottle simultaneously. Laughing, I let him take it and watched him take a hearty swig. He passed me the whisky, keeping hold of my gaze and saying simply, "I'm glad he's dead, Wes."

"So am I." I drank deeply. "I rather like our new father, however."

Spike smiled. "Yeah, seems a decent sort."

"Makes us brothers," I grinned, but then I felt my face drop into a frown "Poor Rupert, must be so difficult for him being here, having to talk to my mother, be in the house of the man he... I really don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to hold the wedding here."

"That bloody painting don't help."

"In the dining room? It's awful, I agree, but Mother treats it like a sacred Catholic icon. I'm going to have to stand up to her, aren't I?"

"Yeah, a little. No need to overdo it, just let her know you’re the man of the house now."

"That really is a ludicrously antiquated concept, Spike."

"It's one a woman as traditional as Dorothy will understand though."

Maybe he was right. I had a horrible feeling, however, that the reason I was avoiding a confrontation with Mum was because inside I was holding on to an abused child's rage for what she had allowed to happen. I was afraid that, if I started to express my anger, I would find that it was bottomless, perhaps deadly. It would be easier not to wake that particular dozing canine, especially when there were so many other conflicts brewing already.

"Spike," I said cautiously. "I don't want to add to your stress levels. Tell me what I should do to make things easier between Buffy and I. I'll do it, no matter how humbling the experience. I owe you that and more."

The vampire snorted quietly. "Buggered if I know what will work. Probably best just not to react, eh?"

"It would be better for you if we actually got along though, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, of course, but I ain't expecting miracles," he smirked, then said, "She still has this thing about you and Angel being poisoned."

I thought about that. "I really did everything in my power to try and obtain a cure, you know. If not for the trouble I provoked in the Council with my insistent requests, I may never have been expelled from the ranks. But... it *was* Faith that poisoned Angel, and Faith was at least partially my fault. I'll talk to Buffy. Apologise."

"'Preciate that, mate. I know there's badness on both sides."

"I owe it to you, and while making peace with Buffy won't be the most pleasant conversation I've ever had, it will hardly be the worst either."

Spike turned his body so that he was facing me and not the fire. "You don't owe me anything, Wes," he said seriously.

"I do," I insisted. "I owe Rupert too, so very much. Spike, we need to do something for him."

"What d'you mean?"

"I don't know, something. It's obvious in what he hasn't said in his e-mails and calls, that he still feels the strain of his fight with my father. I think... I think he maybe believes that I secretly resent him for it. Before tonight there was... something... a tension between us. I felt I was maybe imagining it, after all, I don't have your powers of intuition, but I've changed my mind. I need to show him how much his friendship means to me, but I don't want to cause embarrassment."

"Let him know he's loved without telling him and causing him to blow a stiff upper lip?"

I chuckled. "Yes."

"I'll give it a think."

"Thank you." I squeezed his arm, and we shared a warm smile. The magical light began to flicker. "I think our time in this refuge may be coming to an end."

"Yeah, we should head in, find our loved ones, make with the nice." Spike rose to his feet in a smooth movement and offered me his hand. I was practically lifted to a standing position, and I wavered unsteadily as I found my balance. Perhaps I hadn't sobered up as much as I thought.

Spike picked up the bottle and looked at it in the fading light of the fire. It was nearly empty. With a grin and a shrug, he swigged down half of what remained and handed it to me. I made a toasting motion. "To friendship!" and swallowed down the last of the smooth liquid.

 

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