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Chapter 19: Gut Rot Instincts

Buffy insisted on Willow coming, which Spike didn’t really have a problem with. But to be ornery, he insisted Sam join them. Getting four tickets on a red-eye flight to L.A. at the last minute wasn’t difficult. Sitting on the plane with a fuming slayer, a worried witch and a confused farm girl was. By the time the plane landed in L.A., neither of them had spoken a single word to each other.

Gunn met them at the airport. The two men shook hands and then pulled each other close in the type of embrace that some men just seem to be able to pull off. It usually involved much back slapping and shoulder punching. Gunn and Spike’s reunion was all that and, Buffy noted, something a little bit more. There was a sense of camaraderie and kinship between the two that took her by surprise. In their greeting and embrace, she saw the sort of deep tie that she’d always felt with Willow and Xander. A tie that she knew came from fighting and bleeding at one another’s side; a bond that came from watching those you love die in front of your eyes. Buffy was reminded that the last time Spike and Gunn had seen each other, it had been in just such a fight. A fight in which all of their closest friends had died.

On the drive to the Hyperion, there was no mention of Wes, Fred, or Illyria.

“Angel left me a load of cash, had it all figured out before the battle. I might have been the lawyer of the bunch,” Gunn explained on the drive, “but Angel was the legal genius. Had wills and trusts and everything set up for us. And we were all each other’s beneficiaries. So whoever was lucky enough to pull through that last fight came out loaded.”

“Even me?”

Gunn glanced over at him as he pulled into the hotel parking lot and smiled. “Yeah, I got it all but man, half of it’s yours whenever you want it.”

“How much we talking?” Spike asked in curiosity. As a vampire, he’d never really worried too much about money. As long as he had blood, cigarettes, bourbon, and a good fight now and then, he was content. But to have some to set aside for Dawn and Buffy would be wonderful.

“Millions.”

Spike gaped at him and in the back seat of the car, Willow and Buffy gasped in shock.

“Holy crap, Spike, you’re a millionaire!” Willow crowed.

“That’s a whole lot of leather coats and chicken wings,” Buffy murmured dryly.

Spike only grinned. He was thinking more along the lines of new windows and a new furnace for that drafty old house so that his women wouldn’t freeze in the winter. But yeah...a new leather coat would be grand.

“We’ll go over the papers, I’ll find a way to get you the cash,” Gunn said as they left the car and entered the hotel.

Spike stood in the lobby of the hotel and looked around, a lump in his throat. Gunn slapped him on the back and smiled sadly.

“Good to be back?”

Spike nodded. “Good, but bloody strange. I feel like I just left, but it’s been so many years. Things have changed.”

“I took some of the money and finished the hotel,” Gunn explained. “To be honest, most of our guests are demons, but we do have some regular human guests as well.” He gestured to the windows and lobby. “Windows are specially treated so vampires don’t need to worry and there are spells that ensure that no violence occurs within the hotel walls.”

“Like Caritas,” Spike said, referring to Lorne’s demon bar.

Gunn smiled. “Exactly. Found myself a different set of Furies to set the spells. Lorne stays here at least once a month when he’s on business.”

“And how’s the jolly green giant doing anyway?”

Gunn nodded. “Great. Got his own place in Vegas. No slaving for him in sin city anymore. He’s the man in charge again.” He gestured for them to follow him. “Come on through to my apartment. We’re booked solid, but I’ve got room for you in my quarters if you don’t mind sharing. Spike, I’ve stocked the fridge for you. Why don’t you guys get cleaned up and then we’ll grab something to eat and get caught up.”

They followed him and he showed them to their rooms. Wisely picking up on the distance and coolness between Buffy and Spike, he let her bunk with Willow and gave Sam and Spike their own rooms.

Buffy paused at the door to Spike’s room and watched as he threw his bag on the bed.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, realizing how difficult it was for him to have returned to L.A.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m knackered is all. It was a long flight.”

She wanted to go to him, rub his shoulders, wrap her arms around him and get lost in his smell and in the safety of his embrace.

But there were walls between them that at that moment, Buffy just didn’t feel capable of breaching. ‘Talk to me,’ she wanted to shout. Instead, she said nothing.

He looked up at her, his expression blank. He wasn’t giving anything away. “What?” he asked. “Did you say something?”

She glanced at the connecting door that led into the next room. Not her room; Sam’s room. Apparently she didn’t need to say anything; the look on her face gave her away.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered, turning away from her, missing the flash of pain and fear that crossed her face.

Buffy covered it by reacting with haughtiness and anger. “You don’t be ridiculous,” she replied. “Don’t forget who you belong to.”

His eyebrows shot up and he sneered. “Belong to, eh? Laying claim now, Slayer? After all these years? Why now?”

She turned on her heels and left, running down the hall to the room she was sharing with Willow. She slammed the door behind her and leaned up against it, head bowed, chest heaving as she tried to suppress the sobs.

“Buffy? What is it?” Willow asked, hurrying over to her and grabbing her by the arms.

Buffy looked up, her face ravaged by her tears. “I’m losing him, Will.”

Willow shook her head and pulled her close, hugging her tight. “You aren’t going to lose him, Buffy. Not if you don’t want to.”

“Why are we here?” Buffy asked tearfully.

Willow sighed and pressed her cheek against Buffy’s hair. “We’re here to make sure that you and Spike stay together forever. You need to lay the ghosts of your past to rest. Both of you do.”

Buffy shook her head in bewilderment. “But what ghosts? I’m done with the past!”

Willow leaned back and looked down at her. “You only have a decade to deal with. You’ve put Angel behind you. Spike hasn’t. If anything, his relationship with Angel is even more complicated and goes way, way back. Add to that the fact that Spike believes, with all his soul, that you would be better off with Angel now that he’s human. Spike has demons he needs to put to rest as well. That’s why we’re here, Buff. To make sure you are both done with the past.”

Buffy looked around the room and shivered. Even though it was a gorgeous eighty degrees in L.A. she’d felt cold ever since they landed. She missed Buffalo, the cool crisp air; she missed the house and her sister and friends. Here in California, in L.A., there were too many memories. Willow was right - there were too many ghosts for both of them.

“How can I convince him that he’s wrong?” she asked, going to the bed and sitting down on its edge.

“Are you convinced of it?” Willow asked curiously. She hadn’t been able to rid herself of Spike’s haunting worries about Buffy’s future.

Buffy looked up at her in surprise. “What?”

“Is he completely wrong, Buffy? Have you thought of what it’s going to be like? Getting older while he stays young? Never going out into the day with him? Not ever having children? Not growing old together? You would never have a normal life.”

“But what is my life without him?” Buffy asked sadly. “Empty. No love. No excitement. No passion.”

Willow sat down next to her and took her hand. “I guess it’s a matter of what you think you’re going to want in the long run.”

Buffy buried her head in her hands. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “How am I supposed to know what I’m going to want a decade from now? All I do know is that I spent the last ten years without him. And I don’t think I’ll survive another ten, never mind another thirty. I can’t live without him, Will.”

Willow smiled and hugged her. “Then it will work out.” But even as she said the words, she thought back over their past. When had things ever, ever worked out the way they wanted or thought they should?

***

Gunn handed Spike the folder. “It’s everything I’ve been able to find.” Gunn smiled a bit nostalgically. “I had to hire an investigator.”

“A demon one?”

Gunn nodded. “Yeah, there’s a half breed Brachen demon over in Venice Beach who does the sort of work that we used to do. Small scale, sort of like when we first started out. Without Wolfram & Hart here in L.A., the demon pickings are pretty mundane anyway. He keeps busy though and he likes his work. He’d heard about us and about Angel Investigations. Needless to say – he was curious and eager to take the job. I’ve had him trailing Angel for a few weeks, ever since you called me. I called Willow as soon as he reported back to me and I was able to confirm it.”

Spike stared down at the folder. Inside it lay his future. And his past. It had been his decision that gave Angel the life he had, the life that was now relegated to a few typed pages. He flipped it open.

His breath caught and his heart clenched but he wasn’t sure exactly what emotion it was. Happiness? Surprise? Envy?

In the photo, Angel was standing in the sunlight. He was in a park, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, walking a black and white border collie. His face was tanned, his hair longer, and he was smiling slightly, as if, when the investigator had snapped the shot, Angel was laughing at a private joke.

“His dog’s name is Spike,” Gunn said.

Spike started, then looked up at him. “Really?”

“Strange coincidence isn’t it?”

“Even in this life, he’s got me on a leash.” Spike laughed harshly and flipped the page. More photos. Angel getting into a car, wearing a suit. Angel unlocking the door to a small well kept bungalow. One, a close up, showed him staring right into the camera and Spike closed his eyes.

His grandsire had aged. He was heavier and there were slight lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before and some gray hair at his temples. But the dark eyes were the same and the features were still strong. But there was another big difference. Angel wasn’t brooding in any of the pictures. He looked carefree and happy.

Whatever life the PTB had given him, it was a happy one.

How could Buffy resist this?

“What does he do for a living?” he asked.

Gunn smiled. “There’s a certain divine sort of justice here, he’s a history professor at UCLA.”

“His own history would have come in handy then,” Spike said quietly.

“From what the investigator was able to get, the PTB did a fairly good job of wiping that history clean. As far as Angel is concerned, he is Liam O’Neil, a professor of history at UCLA. He grew up in Pasadena and went to Berkeley. His parents are still alive and he has two sisters, both are teachers at Pasadena high schools. He’s not married and has no children, although he does have a sort of on and off relationship with a police officer.”

Spike burst out laughing. “He is a poof! Always said so didn’t I? Bloody geniuses those PTBs! That solves everything now doesn’t it?”

Gunn grinned and slapped Spike on the back. “Sorry to rain on your parade, Spike, but his police officer is definitely a police officer and not a policeman! She’s a woman.”

“Damn bad call on that then by those Powers. That Goddess wasn’t as bright as I gave her credit for if she didn’t pick up on the Nancy boy’s tendencies and give the real boy a real life!”

“There are some strange things that have leaked through to his present life,” Gunn continued.

“Like what?”

“His PhD. thesis was on magic in Irish history. And he teaches a class on classical mythology. He’s also known as a demonology expert at UCLA and teaches another class on the representation of demons throughout history in art and literature.”

“Strange,” Spike said softly. “It’s almost as if the veil the PTB gave him is too thin and his past too strong...”

“And the woman he’s dating?”

Spike looked up and Gunn handed him a picture.

Spike looked down at the photo and caught his breath. Petite, blond, those same green eyes. The similarities were merely surface, but they were there.

“Christ,” he said.

Gunn nodded. “It’s strange.”

Spike tossed the file onto the desk.

“So what now?” Gunn said as he sat back and crossed his arms. “Why come all the way here? What do you want to do with this, Spike?”

“I need to see him, talk to him; I need Buffy to see him. I need her to really see him.”

“And make sure she has no residual feelings for him?”

When Spike nodded, Gunn shook his head. “You’re crazy, you know that? She loves you, Spike. What are you doing?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Buffy said as she leaned against the doorway. “One I keep asking and one he doesn’t seem to have an answer to.” She gestured to the file on the desk. “May I?”

He pushed it towards her and she strolled over casually and picked it up. Spike watched her closely as she opened it and flipped through the pictures. He looked for any sign of discomfort; any sign of desire or need.

He saw her eyes widen and a slight flush burn along her cheekbones. Her breath was shallow and he could see her chest rise and fall in agitation. Her lips tightened, but he couldn’t determine if it was in anger or if she was fighting back some other emotion. When she came to the picture of Liam’s current girlfriend, she paled.

She looked up at them. “Girlfriend?”

Gunn nodded. “On and off. He seems to have a hard time committing.”

Spike muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘poofter’ and Buffy glared at him.

She closed the file folder, set it down, and leaned against the desk.

“So now what, Spike? What’s the big plan? You’ve got me here. You know where he is. Now what?”

Spike refused to look at her. None of this felt right. It didn’t feel right in his gut, where things usually felt right. And none of it felt right in his soul.

“He teaches a night class on demonology in art and literature on Wednesday nights over in Westwood,” Gunn said.

Buffy slid off the desk and glanced down at her watch. “Well, how long will it take us to get there?”