Note: Thanks to my beta t_geyer for her unending patience, perseverance and support.


Chapter 5.05
Monday, May 20th, 2002

Spike allowed Giles to pull several slivers of glass from his hand before wrapping it in the tea towel, while Angel continued to make excuses.

"You're twisting things. I mean, maybe deep down I didn't think she would find someone else, but if I'd stayed around... with the curse and everything, or if I'd told her I was leaving to look for a cure and kept her waiting, hoping that I'd come back, that would have been more cruel. This way, she made a fresh start."

"Yeah, she made such a great 'fresh start' that she let the first floppy-haired, blue-eyed, insincere sweet-talker as was as far from bein' you as she could find con her into seducing him, just to convince herself that her sex-life didn't begin and end with a one-night stand with a fucking bastard who told her she was crap in bed. An' that worked out so well that when that git didn't even call her back, makin' her two for two on wakin' up alone, she went from there to Ol' Yeller. Guy can't think you're inadequate in bed if he's got all the imagination of a turnip. Yeah, you gave her a chance at a fresh start alright!"

Giles did his best to ignore what the blond unwittingly gave away in his temper, letting his voice cut a soothing path through the vampire's anger. "If you were human I would say that you need stitches," the watcher told him.

Spike pulled back the edges of the towel to have a look, finally breaking the malevolent glare that he had been sending Angel's way. When he saw the extent of the damage, he gave a grunt. "As Buffy would say, 'I'll live'."

"I suspect her level of concern on these matters may have altered slightly since the last time your hands were similarly impaired," Giles pointed out, knowing the vampire was thinking of the time when he had grabbed a sword blade with both hands so that its wielder couldn't use it to attack Buffy.

"Doesn't make her medical assessment any further from bein' true. It'll heal up just fine, an' at least there's just the one hand knackered this time." He glared over to the sofa where Angel was sitting. "I believe it's your turn to ask a question, 'Sire." His formality twisted like a dull-edged blade compared to his normal playful disrespect.

"How long have you been in love with her, Spike?" Angel asked softly.

In lieu of answering what was, after all, a far more complicated question than Angel might realise, and one that, simply by making him think of his feelings for Buffy, would soften the edge on his anger, the blond went in search of more bourbon. This time he didn't bother with a glass. He just pulled the cork with his teeth, spat it across the room and dropped sideways into the armchair, tipping the bottle back until he had drunk far more than two fingers. "None of your bloody business. Fire away, watcher!"

Giles shrugged. "Alright, when you first got engaged, Buffy mentioned having extorted some promise from you in addition to you agreeing to be married in church. I'd almost forgotten about it. Now seems like as good a time as any to ask what it was..."

Spike gave a snort of laughter. "Don't know as I dare tell you that one when the slayer's not here to see your face. She'd stake me good an' proper for spoilin' her fun." Giles, however, raised an eyebrow and Spike conceded.

"We had a barney, 'cause I said next time she takes a high-dive I'd be watchin' the next sunrise rather than go through what... well, let's just say I thought I was doin' pretty well to make it once through last summer. Buffy had other ideas, wasn't happy 'bout me leavin' Bit so that she'd lose both of us in one day, said she wouldn't marry a quitter. She said I had to promise to keep fightin' the good fight until I had good reason to think I might end up in heaven with her or until I'd spent at least as long with the white hats as I did on the other side."

"But that's a hundred and twenty years..." Angel gasped incredulously.

"Well, I've already clocked up nearly two by my reckoning."

"But... for... I mean, Buffy could die any time. If... You signed away a hundred and twenty years for the sake of... it could be months. I can't think of a slayer who's even made it to thirty. That's insane."

Giles shook his head as he turned to the elder vamp. "No," he almost whispered. "That is love."

"An' 'sides, it's not entirely outside the realms of possibility that I might somehow get to where I think I've got a chance of joinin' her... forever. That's gotta be worth tryin' for."

"You're a vampire!" Angel exclaimed.

"So are you!"

"You don't even have a soul!"

"I have her. And when she's gone I'll have a promise to keep that I made to her and the hope that some day I can be with her again."

"It doesn't work like that. You... The things you've done are unforgiveable. You can't just... This is damnation we're talking about. You don't get time off for good behaviour."

"Boo hoo! You're not talkin' about me. You're talkin' about you and your tortured bloody martyr act.

I can do any damn thing I want with that woman in my corner. For her, I'll do whatever it takes... whether that's playin' bodyguard for every damn slayer between now an' the end of the world or cheatin' good old Saint Peter at poker. One way or another, I will claw my way back to her and that is what you'll never understand because you ran a mile the minute Joyce even looked at you funny."

"But it's your soul that goes to heaven and you don't have one."

"So, what? You think you're in with a chance again? Forget it. Buffy loves me just as I am so I'm not real big on the idea of change just for the sake of it, but I will do whatever it takes. If it turns out that I need a damn soul, I'll go to Africa and take the demon trials and get the damn thing back... an' it'll be mine, free an' clear and paid for, not one as decides to up an' go for a wander any time Buffy smiles at me, neither. An', yeah, just in case you were wondering, that was a dig at you needin' to get your leg over to get happy, you selfish git, rather than just needin' to be with her an' make her happy. 'Course, I have to wonder, if you ever really loved any woman more than the whole broodfest, how come once you found out about the curse why the trials didn't occur to you."

"That your next question?" Angel asked cautiously.

"Nope, don't figure I need you to tell me the answer to that one. An' I reckon the librarian's 'bout due to think up a question for you again, seein' as how it's meant to be you two as are settlin' your issues. So, I'll go with fancy a refill, Rupes?"

Giles tilted his empty crystal glass as if he hadn't quite been able to tell from its original angle whether there was anything left in it or not.

"I think that's a yes on the good stuff but an okay on the forfeit stuff," the watcher answered, raising the half-full glass in his other hand.

Spike smirked, having neatly passed over the role of inquisitor without drawing any proverbial blood from the former watcher. He picked up the second bottle of "good" stuff from the counter and tipped an inch into the bottom of both his and Giles' empty tumblers, giving Angel an impatient glare that communicated his refusal to mix Glenmorangie with the other less peaty single malt that the brunette had yet to finish. Then, he topped up Giles' other glass from the bottle from which he'd been drinking.

The watcher gave an exaggerated frown. "I said I was okay for the cheap stuff."

"No, you didn't. I asked if you wanted a refill. You said yes to the sixteen men of Tain and okay to the other. Jus' drink up an' think of a question, Rupert."

Giles turned hard, tired eyes on Angel. "Why do you think Buffy would expect me to find your presence to be a dampener on the festivities?"

Angel picked up the glass of bourbon and knocked back significantly more than two fingers before he answered. "We-ell, there was that whole torture thing. I mean I apologized, I'm sure I apologized, and it's not like I had my soul at the time... but..."

Spike gave a snort of disgust. "The torture thing? You honestly think that was the big deal. Hell, I got some psychopath to stick red hot pokers through you and you don't hold it against me. It's just this whole big karmic cycle. I tortured you, you tortured Giles..."

"Tell Wes it's no big deal. That's the whole thing between him and Faith. Don't see those two making peace."

"The bint tortured Wes?" Spike's curiosity was whetted. "What did he have?"

"What did he have?" Angel repeated blankly, as if Spike's question were nonsensical.

"Ye-ah. What. Did. He. Have?" Spike all but spelled it out a letter at a time. "He must have had something she wanted... Money, information, nifty little ring, what?"

"His dignity. His pride. She just wanted to use him to get to me. She told him she wanted to hear him scream."

"Ouch. That had to hurt," the blond winced as he took a sip of his good whisky. "Anyway, torture schmorture, if that's the big deal then, let's think... I tortured you, you tortured Giles, say Giles tortures slayer the second, she tortured Wes and Wes tortures..." Spike paused as even semi-inebriated he realised that for the circle idea to work it had to come back to the beginning. "Okay, how's about you let the librarian torture you right back for a day or two and by your reckoning that'd make you all square? I can give him some hints. I kinda took notes... well, not physical notes, but I did pay attention as to what made you yell loudest when old Mozart went to work... well, up until I got bored."

Giles gave the straight-haired vampire a cold smile. "I'll tell you why not. Tempting as that prospect is, I believe that Angel knows that to be a very small part of the problem."

"Oooh! Less than total honesty. What a shock." Spike's voice was laced with sarcasm. "Ya know, I think half the time you censor your own thoughts so much it's just like a lobotomy... or maybe I'm overthinking things again. Maybe it was a lobotomy. Better drink up what's left in that glass, Brood Boy. And that makes it my turn to ask you something..."

---

"Congratulations!" Marie wrapped her arms around Wes in greeting before stepping back and handing him a manilla folder. "The first case for your new business, of course you really should go see about getting your house set up as your official place of business so that we have somewhere to send the cheque come the month end but, hey... See what you can make of it." She linked an arm through his, pulling him toward the door into the restaurant. "And lunch is on me to celebrate."

Wes couldn't help but smile at the latina's enthusiasm. "I'm sure the case will be fine," he reassured her as they were led to a table for two by the restaurant's front window.

"Now, you get that we need two versions of any reports that might end up touching on the demon population? The full ones won't go on official record and that's partly why these informal meetings are good. It's not like you can tell a jury that the defendant is innocent because the real culprit is a Shirago demon. We just point out that the crime would require a strength in excess of all but the most dedicated of bodybuilders and let them draw their own conclusions."

"I get it. You already explained all this."

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm kinda nervous... I'm not sure about this whole just friends thing... not that, I mean. This is coming out all wrong. It's difficult working out what's appropriate. I mean I already hugged you and maybe I- I mean it could look like I expect something from you in return for the work... You do know that you'll continue to get work on what I'm sure will be your undoubted merits regardless of whether you let me take liberties with your personal space or not, don't you? I mean if you're not comfortable with..."

Wes gave her a reassuring smile. "You're fine. You haven't done anything that falls outside the bounds of propriety, and what's appropriate is simply what feels right... It would take a true misogynist to object to a beautiful woman like yourself walking arm in arm with him." His smile eased into a playful grin. "I may revise my opinon, when and if you take to sticking dollar bills in my waistband, however."

"Good. You know I think I might just have to get Lori to type up something to that effect for you to sign just to be sure you don't slap me with a sexual harrassment suit somewhere down the line."

"I think that's highly unlikely." The detective ducked his head slightly, giving Marie the full benefit of his dark curling lashes as their fingertips came to together over the table in a tentative brush. "I suspect that if we didn't both feel the need to take things slowly for Rosa's sake that I would already have given in to the urge to see if your lips taste as sweet as they look." Marie flushed though she couldn't help but stare into those clear blue eyes until Wes gave a self-deprecating grin.

"I'm not saying that it would have been a good idea. I'm sure you know that there was someone in LA and I know you deserve a man who wants you for yourself, not to help him forget a girl who never even noticed his existence except to tell him that he wasn't welcome. Rosa's right. We're not ready, yet, neither one of us, but that doesn't mean that it hasn't crossed my mind."

Marie raised her eyes to the ceiling briefly before giving the sort of mischievous grin Wes associated more with her daughter. "The thought crossed my mind, too... On its way to set up home in other areas." She gave a theatrical sigh. "But friends is good, for now."

---

"Heyyy!" Spike broke the contemplative silence that had settled over the group. "Glory tortured me. I tortured Angel. Angel tortured you and you killed Glory, which is kinda one up one torturing, so we're all sorted already."

"I believe we already covered that before your... whatever he is decided to take a little nap." Giles slurred slightly from his seat on the floor with his back to one of the armchairs.

Spike grunted as he leaned over from his sideways position in the armchair to refill Giles' glass of Glenmorangie. "Some vamp. Outdrunk by a human."

"We did ask him rather more questions than we did each other and he did seem to, as you pointed out, edit the facts on enough occasions that I suspect he's drunk a bit more than either of us."

"Still..." Spike took a slow sip of the single malt before giving a dispirited sigh. "We can't fix this, can we?"

"I seem to recall telling you that several bottles ago."

"Yeah, but I didn't understand back then. I mean, Bitty told me... she said that the gypsy was the one, that he took away your one chance at real happiness but I didn't know the real problem."

"Dawn said that? ...And if that isn't the real problem, then what on earth is?"

"Said you practically glowed just thinkin' 'bout her, that she could make you all flustered. She said that you were settlin' when it came to your Scouser. What she neglected to mention was that the pair of you had been on the outs and on the point of patchin' it up... an', yeah, people die. It's part of the natural order even if us fangy types sometimes hurry things along. An' I knew when you told broody boy... When you said, 'That's Love,' it was her you were thinking about not Floella Benjamin," Spike continued, citing the vague similarity between Olivia and a British children's TV presenter of the 1970's. "If it was just that he killed her that'd be one thing... but he took away your one chance to make your peace. He didn't just take her away from you... He took away your chance to make things right with her... An' that's a whole different thing.

Short of bringin' her back from the dead, there's just no way to make that right..."