full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
 
True Colors by TalesofSpike
 
Chapter 2:07
 
<<     >>
 
Image hosted by Photobucket.com






SECTION 2 - ANGEL CITY

I got a buncha boys
We make a lot of noise
Little bit crazy
Playing with chemical toys
We're such bad ass dudes
I almost can't stand it myself
I wanna get the c**bs
In my elegant rags
Make my mom and daddy uptight
I wanna be an intellectual
Heterosexual, Angel City tonight.

(Motorhead, Album 1916)



Chapter 2.07
Tuesday, May 7th, 2002

"You sure?" Spike asked.

"Yeah. The point of this trip is that things end up settled between us all. Your little Q & A session might have him on hold for a bit, but I think I should talk to him one on one before we leave. If I can make him understand how we feel, he might be able to accept it."

"Back to the hotel it is then. No swimming for Spike, yet."

Wes's flat wasn't far from the hotel and Buffy could see it in the distance when Spike hung a sudden right down an alley and then another at the other end taking them back the way they had come. A few blocks further up he took another right and pulled to a stop near where the alley came out onto the larger road.

"Detour?" asked Buffy.

"Nope, Poof passed us back there. He's nearby somewhere. Guess the Princess had another vision."

Spike popped the trunk and pulled an axe and a crossbow from the bag. Throwing the crossbow to Buffy, who by this time had joined him he headed for the corner of the block at a jog. On the opposite side of a junction he saw Angel head for one of the rooms on the upper level of a two-storey motel. Dodging the traffic, the pair saw him enter one of the rooms and close the door. As they neared the motel Spike slowed and moved stealthily up the stairs.

"Pet, this isn't a vision thing. This is personal. This is the guy that took the kid."

"So what do we do?"

"We make sure we're somewhere he won't see us if he comes out, hope he's too distracted to sense us and hang around until we're sure he's not going to do anything stupid like kill the guy the kid calls Dad."

Spike made sure they were a couple of rooms along from the room Angel had gone into and then gave Buffy a boost so that she could climb onto the flat roof before climbing up himself. The two cautiously moved along the roof until they were above the correct room.

Almost as soon as they were in position the room door opened and Angel paused in the doorway. At first Spike thought his grandsire had sensed them but when the old man finished speaking the vampire left. They waited until they saw him get in his car and drive off toward the coast.

"Let's go," Buffy prompted.

"No rush, pet. Peaches hasn't gone back to the hotel. Everybody that doesn't live there has probably done a bunk for the night and if they're not vampires chances are they've turned in. We could go back to the motel."

"And that would end with me speaking to Angel when?"

Spike gave her a sultry smile. "Later? .Tomorrow? .Sometime? .Maybe Never?" He stepped in and stroked her cheek with his thumb, before he lowered his lips to meet hers. Their touch was gentle, brushing lightly against hers and making her lips tingle. When she didn't resist he increased the pressure on her lips, their mouths opening simultaneously as if at some subconscious signal. Their weapons slid unnoticed from their hands to lie at their feet and Buffy's arms looped around his neck. Spike's hand cupped the side of her face, his fingers tangled in her hair. His other hand slid under her coat and pressed on the small of her back to draw her toward him.

Buffy moaned into his mouth, the muffled sound spurring the vampire's ardour further. His tongue extended into her mouth slowly exploring and tasting her, memorising every sensation. Reluctantly he pulled back to let her breathe. He looked down into her hazel eyes, her pupils wide with desire.

"I love you, Buffy Summers and I want you, I'll always want you, even if I get to be with you for seventy years and your hair turns white and your face is lined and maybe things get to be not quite so firm. All I'll need to do is look into your eyes and you'll still be beautiful to me. Everything I fell in love with is there in your eyes, your strength, your love, your compassion. You're laughing at me."

"Sorry!" Buffy covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. "It's really sweet. it's just I've got this picture of this little white-haired lady, lying in a bed in an old folks home with an oxygen mask and your perfect white butt bobbing up and down."

The romantic mood was totally lost. "Hah! See that's where you've got it totally wrong, see 'cause by the time you're that old, pet, you're going to have to go on top. Otherwise I might just end up pounding those brittle bones of yours into powder. And as if I'd let anyone else take care of you. Old folks home indeed. Only way I'd be screwin' you in an old folks home was if I was tryin to upset Harris doin' it in his bed, providin' he hadn't pissed in it first."

Buffy slapped his arm, now finding it even harder to control her laughter. Spike pulled a cigarette from his pack but paused just before he lit it, raising a finger to his lips. Footsteps clattered up the metal stairway to the upper floor and the couple recognised the woman they had rescued earlier in the bar though now she wore a biker's jacket on top of the light coloured top she'd worn earlier. She moved straight to the door directly below them and before she could knock the door opened. The old man took one last look around the room and then followed the woman down the steps and around the corner toward the alley, coughing and wheezing as if merely catching his breath was a hardship.

As soon as they rounded the corner, Spike lit his neglected cigarette. "Now, see, if a woman like that can be with a bloke like him, who says I can't be with you when you're old and wrinkly?" Spike lodged his cigarette between his lips and used both his hands to tickle her sides. In retaliation Buffy pulled the cigarette from his lips holding it away behind her back, which aside from keeping it out of his reach meant that his chest rubbed against her taut breasts as he tried to get it back.

It was Buffy who heard the footsteps this time. Looking down she saw Angel's son running toward them at superhuman speed, down the middle of the busy road.

"Two minutes too late," she said, her voice filled with sorrow at his loss.

Stephen came running up the stairs, and less than a second later they heard the room door slam open and the boy's anguished cries, before he started back down the stairs again.

Suddenly Spike swore and snatched the axe from where it lay on the roof before dropping off the edge. He shouted one word as she heard his boots thump a rapid tattoo to the far end of the walkway.

"Blood!" Buffy grabbed the crossbow and made for the stairs. She reached the edge of the roof just in time to see Spike leap onto and off of the railing at the end of the balcony nearest the alley in one motion. For a second she was transfixed by the grace with which he moved, before she sped to catch him up.

Spike was too late. The boy was there first, already helping the woman to hold the old man. He strained to hear a third heartbeat from the group but there was only the boy's and the woman's.

Spike pulled a fresh cigarette from his pack and readied the lighter as he listened to the woman's words, forced out between her sobs.

"This didn't have to happen. Your father was gonna leave. He just wanted to talk to Angelus."

Spike flicked open the lighter with a loud click, letting the flame illuminate the planes of his face for a second before he walked out of the shadows. He gave a slow hand-clap the scene reminiscent of the first night he saw Buffy.

"They should put you up for an Oscar, pet. The grief's very convincing considerin' you're probably the bitch that killed him." Spike swaggered closer all the time. He was close enough to see the wounds on the old man's neck as Buffy came barrelling round the corner, stalling as she took in the scene before her.

"Shut up, demon. Your kind has no right to even speak about my father."

Spike continued, as if Stephen hadn't opened his mouth. "Sloppy job on killin' him though. You were really countin' on the kid never havin' seen a vampire bite before. A killing wound would almost never just be two holes, a killing wound would look a lot more like what I did to Angel tonight. The one on Buffy's neck is just a love-bite but you can still see the imprint of all my teeth."

He watched the kid's eyes travel from the bite on Buffy's neck, to the puncture marks on the old man's body. Buffy moved closer angling her neck so the mark was plain to see.

"I got a little bit carried away, but it's still a lot less messy than you would get from a bite made during an attack because she wasn't struggling. The only time you'll see a two-hole bite is when a vamp is co-operating with someone who wants an unobtrusive wound. Like the whores who'll bite people who get off on it for money and are prepared to make the feeding last a long time. Even then you wouldn't see what you've got there. The holes should be perpendicular to his collar not parallel to it. See where the fang marks are on Buffy's neck and how they relate to how a vamp would tilt his head to bite."

By now Buffy was almost level with the group and Spike walked round behind her and leant over her shoulder, mouth wide, to cover the scars as a demonstration.

"It's physiologically impossible to bite at an angle that would give you marks like those. And they're too far apart and too small a diameter."

Spike moved round to Buffy's side again and drew deeply on his cigarette.

"Now I reckon, since the kid's biological parents were both fairly bright even if his mother did have one of the most irritating voices on the planet, that the kid has been following my argument. Besides Angel was in his car and gone a good five minutes before you showed your face and walked down here with the old man. I thought you were some old girlfriend come back to look after him. Maybe you were. See I think, maybe, this wasn't so much murder as euthanasia. I think the time he spent in that place ruined his health so badly that the old guy was strugglin' for every last breath he took. And if that's the story then maybe killing him was the kindest thing you could do, if he'd already seen a doctor and there was no way it could be treated.

What I don't get is how you can take two of the people who saved your life earlier tonight and try to screw up both their lives. That's a pretty fucked-up way of showin' gratitude. You're one screwed up bitch. I suggest you find yourself a good shrink. Angelus hasn't existed for a hundred years, give or take one brief reappearance, and we know you weren't around then. Angel, the vampire with a soul, may look similar if you take off the leather pants and add a vest, but he's not. He has a conscience and he generally follows it. He doesn't feed from humans and he loves the kid, just the same as if he were a human father. Maybe more because he never thought he could have one.

You keep saying Angelus did it, so whatever grudge you've been harbouring must be a damn sight older than you, and you don't look Romany to me so I doubt it's been passed down from generation to generation. Believe me Angel's paid twice over for all the things he did, first when he got the soul, and then when he went to hell for half a millennia. If the Powers That Be thought he's been punished enough, and sent him back to atone by working for them, I think it's a bit arrogant for you to try to make things work out different."

Spike threw his cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it twisting his foot to put it out. He turned his gaze to the youth.

"Kid, in a way, Angelus was a second father to me, and I hated the bastard with a fiery passion. Angel isn't the same person and he loves you. Give him a chance. If you still end up hating him after a couple of years, then leave and do your own thing, but get to know him first, not the stories you've been told about what he was like two hundred years ago.

We're goin' back to the Hyperion once we've had a cup of coffee. If you want a lift or you want a hand with your dad's body we'll be back in ten minutes once you've had a chance to think things through."

Spike paused long enough to drop off their weapons in the trunk of the nearby DeSoto before leading Buffy off down the street in the direction of a nearby coffee-shop. Spike stayed silent until he was sure he was well beyond normal hearing range for a vamp.

"Was he listening, do you think? Or does he still think it was him?"

"I think he listened, Quincy. He's probably come to the conclusion that we stabbed him with a screwdriver rather than getting the right culprit, but I think you convinced him it wasn't Angel."

"Yeah, well, not a word about this to the Poof. Right? Unless you want to tell him that I told the kid I hated him."

"I won't say anything unless he specifically asks, but I think unless Stephen's struck dumb chances are he will."

The pair managed to catch the coffee-shop just before it closed and dallied on the way back to give the teenager ample time to consider their offer.

 





Wednesday, May 8th, 2002

Wednesday Early hours of the morning

"Gimme a bell when you want pickin' up, if it's before sun-up. If not get yourself a taxi." Spike shoved some notes into her hand. "There should be enough there, an' assumin' you want to go shoppin' tomorrow you'd best book us another day at the motel."

"You're not coming in?"

"No point. Get yourself in there and do whatever it is you think you have to and I'll be waitin' when you're done. Me an' him said everythin' we've got to say to each other years ago." She knew that he hated this. That however much had happened between them, part of him still expected her to turn to Angel.

"Not even a message."

"Nah, Wait, yeah. Tell 'im I said that he can't expect the kid to kill people for their clothes. He's goin' to have to put his hand in his pocket for once and give the cheerleader some dosh to take him shoppin'."

"Is that a subtle dig?"

"Is it? Dunno, pet. I wasn't tryin' for subtle."

"An', pet. Don't let him make you feel guilty about him not havin' anyone. The cheerleader's goin' to work out why it took her so long to notice her Prince Charmin' was missin' before too long."

"You what? Angel and Cordelia?" Buffy snorted. "Yeah, that's gonna happen."

"Already has, pet, just the beauty queen can't see it yet."

"You're serious. I mean, I can see Cordelia falling for Angel, but please. "

"Ooh, is that wounded pride I sense. He was supposed to content himself with your memory for the rest of his life. Couldn't you sense it? Bint's grown up, found her place, her calling. She might need to sue her hairdresser but she's turned into a hell of a woman. According to our green friend, grand-papa has it bad as she has. Now go or it'll be sunrise before you get in there."

Buffy stuck her tongue out at him. Neither of them wore a watch but Buffy doubted despite the events of the night if it was much past midnight. She brought a hand up to his face, her fingers following that scarred eyebrow and leant across to give him a long tender kiss.

"Don't go too far. I might want to leave in a hurry." Her hand trailed down his face, over his shoulder, down over his arm until finally their fingertips locked together briefly before she got out of the car.

 
<<     >>