Half and half

Chapter 4

***

An hour later and they still hadn’t found any way out of the building.

A tight grey fog clung to every window from the outside, making it impossible to see anything of the streets beyond. Perhaps it was some kind of mystical lockdown, put in place to contain whatever was going on. Whatever it was, it was keeping them from leaving.

Their priorities at the moment were to stay safe, find a way out and/or get help. It was a strange feeling, knowing that she couldn’t just charge at the bad guys and let her fists do the rest. This damsel in distress thing sucked.

The carnage they encountered on their journey was horrific. Body parts liberally littered corridors and rooms, and the sticky red trails lining the floors and walls were a grim testimony to the weaker being preyed upon by the stronger. Here and there a body lay ripped open under a soft blanket of dust, revealing where a vampire had turned on its human host, not understanding that their victim’s death would result in their own. After seeing several disturbing examples of this it became apparent that the varying states of decomposition in each corpse depended on how long ago they were turned. Before them now was a young woman - with barely a sign of decay - gazing sightlessly at the ceiling, an expression of disbelief still on her face.

Buffy gave silent thanks to Spike’s demon for being so very different; if nothing else this was further proof that he was in a category all of his own. Okay, so Angelus probably had Angel stashed away somewhere safe, but she had no doubt that he would eventually get some payback on his souled counterpart without actually killing him. The thought wasn’t pretty. She knew she would have to persuade William that they needed to rescue him soon, and had an idea she knew exactly what his reaction would be.

Who knew there were so many hybrids around? Buffy wished now that she hadn’t tuned out whenever Giles had rambled on about demons. Their origins had always seemed unimportant. Where she could find their vital organs, now that had been important.

One office they passed contained a familiar Mantis Lady, making a leisurely feast of a young male lawyer, his polished leather shoes the last bit of him to be daintily crunched in the creature’s mandibles. A sad little briefcase lay open to one side, spilling evil secrets and a Tupperware lunchbox.

Further away a series of growls and howls indicated that several werewolves were fighting, probably each other. Unlike ordinary wolves they preferred their own company and were very territorial. Buffy was thankful for that; a pack of them working together would be very hard to deal with.

Angel’s office was on one of the top floors. If they used the elevator then they could be sitting ducks for whatever was lying in wait when the doors opened, so they made their way down to each level via the stairs. They could hear the sound of gunfire and screaming. William reckoned that the special ops team was picking off some of their more hostile co-workers, and not wanting to be caught in ‘friendly fire’ he thought it was time to regroup.

“In here, Buffy.” Before she knew it William had opened a door and shoved her through it, just as the sound of a hunting horn and multiple footfalls reached them. Manic laughter that could only belong to Angelus followed.

They were in a janitor’s closet. Trapped.

“Oh great, William. I feel much safer now!” Pressed up against a firm body on one side, and an unimaginably dirty mop and bucket on the other, she could hear the demon posse draw closer outside.

“Button it, Buffy,” her companion hissed quietly, “know what I’m doing here.”

Fumbling in the dark William groped around the cleaning equipment until he found what he was looking for.

Another door.

Pausing only to unscrew a container and splash a little cleaning fluid on the walls to mask their scent, he grabbed Buffy’s hand and led her through the hidden exit.

***

Buffy found herself standing on a landing at the top of a staircase leading down. Dirt coated everything, from the cracked green linoleum on the floor to the dark wooden handrails. A few portraits of directors long past hung on the walls in perfect alignment, virtually invisible under the grime. She thought that even a good clean wouldn’t improve their looks. Heavy glass wall lights shaped like wavy seashells gave off a dull glow and Buffy wondered just how long an electric bulb could last.

It was utterly silent.

William took her hand and they began their descent.

At her quizzical look William spoke in a low voice, he was nervous but determined to make this journey. “You know I was a ghost, right? Well, I’ve spent a lot of time below stairs, seeing bits of this place that I would really have preferred not to. I kept finding myself in the basement, meetin’ other spirits in a lot worse shape than me. Took to exploring when I had no other options and found this forgotten bit of Wolfram and Hart, all buried away from the fancy modern world. This isn’t a normal place, love. Normal doesn’t really apply here. I found myself a little hidey-hole a couple of floors down so we can get a bit of a rest there and maybe work out some kind of a plan.”

Buffy gave his hand a gentle squeeze; she was tiring rapidly now that her adrenaline levels were finally dropping and a rest sounded lovely. Planning? Well, that was another matter as General Buffy had well and truly left the building, leaving jet-lagged and wiped out Buffy behind. She fervently hoped that William's plans turned out a lot better than Spike's usually did.

Two levels down and the floor beneath them changed for the better. White marble patterned with black diamonds led them past thick oak doors with tiny brass nameplates. When they reached the office of T.G. Patterson at the very end William led her inside.

More marble led towards an imposing teak desk dominating the far wall. A reddish brown leather chair was pushed back behind it, as if the occupant had just left for a moment. A very large Chesterfield sofa in the same colour, with wide, round, studded armrests was standing lengthways near the middle of the generously sized room. It looked deeply inviting to the exhausted couple.

“There’s an executive washroom through there if you need it.” William nodded towards a closed door to the right of the desk.

Buffy did need it, and badly. Although the taps sputtered for long minutes before giving up a trickle of water, she was grateful to wash away some of the dirt. She wasn’t stupid enough to drink it though. There was a perfectly wrapped bar of yellow soap and, bliss, toilet paper - the shiny, scratchy kind that could survive sixty years, and a nuclear blast, and still be uncomfortably usable.

Thirsty, but otherwise feeling much better, Buffy joined her companion and took a good look around. Apart from some long dead plants in heavy brass containers the room appeared to have escaped the passage of time.

An awkward silence reigned as they both wondered ‘what happens now?’ so William took the opportunity to use the washroom to get a bit cleaner, leaving Buffy to her thoughts.

He returned to find her stretched out in the squashy depths of the sofa, pretending to be asleep. She had taken off her shoes, but nothing else. He also noted that she had left plenty of room for him.

Shucking off the trainers that he’d had to find when his demon had appeared wearing all his clothes during the Great Change, but leaving on the clothes he'd pilfered from a gym bag in Angel’s office, William carefully lay down next to her. He was glad he’d insisted on keeping the coat that he now spread over them.

“Know you’re awake, kitten. Let’s just rest, yeah?” Buffy gave a weak giggle and opened her eyes. He opened his arms and wrapped her up in them.

***

William took his time, his hand making soothing strokes down her back until he felt her body relax against him. Her face was buried in his shoulder so he kissed the top of her head, his lips brushing against her soft blonde hair, enjoying the faint remains of perfume from the shampoo she always used. He was painfully aroused but he moved his groin so that it wasn’t touching hers. No, this had to be taken slowly. When she was ready.

So lost was he in his inner dialogue, he didn’t notice when Buffy had shifted until her pouting little face came into his line of vision.

The pair stared intently at each other.

It would be easy to admit to loving William the 'man', the man who was now looking at her with his heart in his eyes. Here was someone who had willingly agreed to undertake a journey with a demon, and had managed to keep a large part of himself intact for over a hundred years. A man who had been able to influence and educate a primal being, to find a way for them to coexist. A man who had never lost the capacity to love and who gave that love selflessly without any expectations of having it returned.

And what of the demon? She couldn't discard him. Couldn't cut him out and cauterize the wound. The demon gave Spike his energy, his joy, his determination to succeed in the face of ridiculous odds. It was Spike who would poke holes in her defences by any and all means. Spike would defy God and the hoards of Hell, and endure any pain to protect what he considered was his.

Together they had both been willing to die to save the world; there were no half measures with these two. So she would tell them both. That she loved them equally and if they were still willing to have her then she would be theirs.

A world of sorry’s lay between them and she didn't know if she could find the right words to make amends. Spike or William, it didn't matter really, he …they…were home to her. And underneath his battered walls, laid low by her own wrecking ball of denial and distrust, still lay the firm foundations of pure granite.

Of course she said none of this out loud, and such deep thoughts were making her head hurt. No. She would take this slowly, would keep things light for now. In the meantime new improved Buffy would be playful, but not too playful. William would learn to trust her, then she would be honest about her feelings and he would finally believe her. And, rule number one, for new Buffy there would be no using of William for sex. She didn't doubt that he'd be willing, but sex just messed everything up. No, they would clear up all misunderstandings between them before they got physical again.

Playful, yes. Total jumping of sexy William? No! I can do this. Can't I?

Whatever thoughts William had been having, he for once kept them to himself. A raised eyebrow was his only response as she refocused on his face, the arms around her twitching slightly as if expecting her to bolt at any minute.

“I'm not sleepy any more!”

“Is that so?” The low rumble of his voice was already undermining Buffy's resolve to behave herself.

“Yeah, that’s so. Although I should probably dip this in disinfectant first!” Grasping his erection – playfully, of course - through his sweats, she squeezed just this side of painful.

“Uhh, Buffy it didn’t get that far, I swear.” William gave a little whimper. Her hot little hand was driving him to distraction.

Technically it was true, but they both knew that another minute in that office with Harmony and it would have been another story.

“Good, because this is mine!” Scratching lightly over the soft material covering his hard length, she felt him twitch underneath her fingers.

“Oh god, Buffy, please!” His tormented entreaty was torn from his lips.

Stroking became groping. Good intentions struggled to stay but found themselves overwhelmed and vanquished as lips found lips, and tongues touched in welcome.

Buffy forgot about being mad, forgot about impending danger, and was seriously in danger of forgetting her name. Only aware of the fingers making her nipple rise up and crinkle under them, the hand that was slowly making progress between her thighs, the tongue that gently explored her mouth. The delicious tongue that rasped against the swell of her breast.

Wait, that’s two tongues!

Buffy froze.

Struggling to break free she turned her head to see the rapturous eyes of Spike gazing back.

***