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Insight by cereza
 
Apocalypse, Now
 
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Disclaimer: Every character that has been taken from BtVS or AtS belongs to Joss Whedon. Every other character belongs to me. And if Joss doesn't ask nicely, I won't let him play with them. Ha.

A/N: Thanks to my lovely Beta, Adela Nightmoon.

***



Los Angeles, 2006


“It has started,” said Wesley, facing the gang. Angel stood motionless in front of him, his eyes fixed on Wesley’s face. Connor was leaning against the wall, he seemed to be perfectly focused on a sword he was cleaning nervously. Gunn was pacing across the room, he could never stay in a one place for a long amount of time. Lorne and Fred occupied the couch, silently waiting for Wesley’s next words.


They knew that they hadn’t got rid of all evil, that they had won a battle but not the whole war. They were properly aware of that and had no illusions. But two years ago they had massacred Wolfram & Hart’s LA branch and beaten the demon army and hell, they had earned a rest.


‘Two years had passed so quickly’, Wesley thought sadly. They even hadn’t been given a chance to really heal their wounds and now they had to prepare for a fight. Once again.


“Wolfram & Hart gather their forces,” he continued. “Though they seem to have changed the strategy-”


“What do you mean?” Angel interrupted, crossing his arms. “Raising a demon army is just that – raising a demon army.”


“Two years ago the Senior Partners used the Circle of the Black Thorn to open the gateway to the demon dimension. That is how they summoned them. So that is how we defeated them.”


They remained silent. Wesley didn’t have to remind them of this – they remembered.


“This time… This time is different. I suspect that they came to a conclusion from our last encounter about our methods and decided to focus on… a closer reality. Ours. Wolfram & Hart is using all of their resources to win over as many demons from this universe as possible.”


“So,” Fred broke the silence, “we’re dealing with the United Forces of the Undead Earth Community?” she made a weak attempt to joke.


“Yes.”


“What does this change?” Connor asked, ceasing his polishing of the blade. “I mean… we fought them back then, we’ll fight them now – ”


“The problem is,” Gunn cut in, “we can’t just switch the portal’s buttons, make it suck bad guys in and then shut it, like we did. No more tricks like that.”


Angel nodded, “The Senior Partners want us to play on their terms.”.


“Aha. So… What do we do? We’re gonna have to start bribing demons, ‘cos I don’t think we’ve got any chance to find ourselves an army,” Connor snorted.


“Thank God you’re wrong,” his father smiled weakly. “Wes? Put London on the phone.”


***



Fred opened the door to her apartment, her heart sinking. It – it wasn’t fair. After everything they were through, after everything she went through – years spent in this freaking dimension as a cow, madness, uncountable battles, Connor’s kidnapping and his great comeback, Cordelia’s amnesia and possesion, Jasmin, Angelus, soul’s restoring, fighting against the Beast, taking over Wolfram & Hart, Spike’s appearance as a ghost, Pavayne, Cup of Perpetual Torment, Cordy’s death, her being infected by Illyria, Circle of the Black Thorn, apocalypses and - oh God, she was babbling, she was babbling even while thinking.


It’s just… It’s just not fair.



After the crushing news, Fred felt like some time alone to think. Preferably without the disturbing babble bit.


She closed her eyes, wondering what was happening at the moment in the hotel. Wesley was probably now talking with someone from the old Sunnydale crew. They’re going to ask them along, she thought and felt cold fear overwhelming her. They’re going to ask somebody else along. They’re going to ask somebody else along to fight their fight. God, how serious it had to be for Angel to decide to ignore his pride and turn to his ex-girlfriend for help?


Fred knew that they needed all the support they could get. Wasn’t that just what Wolfram & Hart was doing? Gathering allies, planning, preparing and waiting for the most convenient moment to attack…


That’s why they needed all the support they could get. They needed the strongest warriors because they couldn’t get into fight like two years ago, only with the enthusiasm for killing demons. Actually, back then they had pretty a smart plan too, but it was useless this time.


Fred sat down on her bed. She looked at the small bedside table on her right and after a second of hesitation, she reached out and opened the first drawer. Under some old notebooks and other bits and pieces she found what she was looking for. A white, un-addressed envelope.


All the support. The strongest warriors. Old friends…


She stared at the perfectly blank piece of paper.


***



Los Angeles, 2004


“Hey,” Fred greeted Spike with a sweet smile. “Can I come in?”


“Sure, pet,” he nodded and waved his hand with an inviting gesture. “Ah, sorry ‘bout the mess, watch out, it’s bloody easy to trip over somethin’.”


Fred looked around –the floor was covered with boxes and packages. So it was true.


“You’re really leaving,” she stated calmly, resignation in her voice. She didn’t know why she was so surprised. He told her he was moving, he had told her when, he had even asked her to come along for a goodbye cuppa. And yet she still couldn’t believe it, that Spike was actually going anywhere.


“That’s the plan,” the vampire smiled in reply. This time it wasn’t his usual irritating and mocking smirk – this smile was tentative, sad. Even a little shy.


He removed some clothing tossed on the couch and asked her to sit.


“You know, I really thought you were joking,” she said, deciding to be honest. “That it was another smart attempt to make Angel think he finally got rid of you. A-and when he wouldn’t expect it – bam! – you’re there to annoy the shit out of him.”


Spike chuckled at the very thought.


“You really did think so?”


“Yep. In the hotel we were all making bets.”


The peroxide-vampire looked at her fondly, still laughing under his non-existent breath.


“Spike... Why are you leaving?” Fred finally asked. He became serious in a moment, switching moods in the way only he could. Instead of answering, he went to a cupboard and returned with a piece of paper and a pen.


“Fred, you know why. Me and the Poof… We’re not gettin’ along. A-and I’m sick of bein’ one of his bloody loyal avengers, it never agreed with me. I have to go, ‘cos if I stay, I won’t be able to… to get myself even a soddin’ shell of a life. And hey, don’t say that I’m leavin',” he kept prattling on while writing something in a hurry. “I’m not, not really. ‘cos as much as everybody hates it, I always come back. That’s my curse,” she saw him smiling viciously, his trademark smirk back. He finished his note and put it into the envelope. “No matter what, I have to come back.”


Spike handed her the envelope.


“Don’t open it, until somethin’ big happens. I dunno – some brainless git that hurt you and now needs castratin’, the Great Poof runnin’ out of his precious hair gel. Possibly an apocalypse.”


Fred couldn’t help herself and hugged him. He became still and awkward, it took him a second or two to adjust to the same idea of somebody hugging him on impulse.


He asked her to tell those sorry wankers not to get too happy, ‘cos soon he’d be back to torture them properly. He even had special farewell for Angel, which consisted of lots of British curses and insults. As she was heading to the exit, he called to her for the last time.


“Pet? Your plan is hell inspirin’. Expect me to make an entrance at the most inconvenient moment.”


***



Los Angeles, 2006


She stared at the perfectly blank piece of paper.


No matter what, he was always back, that was his curse.


Fred opened the envelope. It contained a number and a small note. She read the message and couldn’t suppress a giggle.


Fred, this is a number to a guy who’ll know where I am. Remember: castrations, hair gels and apocalypses are all in. Make a call and I shall come to annoy and irritate.

Love,

Spike

PS. Hail to His Broodiness, the Master Poof and the Royal Git-ness, etc. etc.



Still chuckling, Fred reached for the phone.
 
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