Turnabout

Spike hung up the phone quietly. His fingers itched for a cigarette. Of all the ways he thought of announcing his presence back in the land of the living, shouting obscenities at the Watcher hadn’t even been on the radar. Amusement vied with irritation as he considered that. At least there was no more need to wonder about the how or when of letting the Scoobies know he was back, and he had to admit, hearing Giles bluster his way through marginally incoherent questions had been fun.

The smile faded from his face, however, as he glanced at the stairs. After the initial shock, Giles had immediately gotten to the point of his call, and Spike’s own worry over Xander deepened when he heard the Watcher’s concern. At the same time, the vampire couldn’t bring himself to reveal that Xander was here with him. He had hurt the man enough for one day, and he knew that telling Giles where Xander was and describing his condition would be seen as betrayal, effectively killing the already fragile trust. So he had feigned ignorance and assured the Watcher that yes, he would try to find Xander and that no, he did not want to come to England right now on the Council’s nickel.

Shaking off the foreboding that hung heavy in the wake of both calls, Spike made his way slowly upstairs. He headed first to Angel’s room to collect the box as instructed. As wrapped up as he was in thinking about Xander, he found himself distinctly lacking in curiosity as to what the box might contain. He stood silently in front of the door to the suite he shared with Xander and pressed his hand against the closed door. Again waves of misery, anger and self-loathing seemed to press back, brig bag back the moment he had found the boy at Earl’s.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, shaking off the melancholia and opening the door.

“Let’s go, Harris! Up and at ‘em. Captain Forehead calls.”

Forty-five minutes later, the pair stalked into Angel’s office, the tension between them palpable. After Xander’s arguments that he was not going, which Spike silenced by threatening to tie him up and sling him over his shoulder, and the subsequent argument over having to take the sewers instead of going in the sunlight, they hadn’t spoken another word. Wesley and Fred exchanged a look as they watched Spike slam the metal box on Angel’s desk before settling at the opposite end of the couch from Xander.

Wes glanced at his watch and cleared his throat, but before he could speak, Lorne swept in. He cast a keen glance at the pair on the couch.

“Well, kids, this is cozy. Another powwow at the OK Corral.”

“Wasn’t it a shootout at the OK Corral?” Fred wrinkled her nose.

“Tomato, tomahto, sugarplum.” Lorne waved a hand carelessly as he dropped into a chair.

“We seem to be missing the sheriff, however.” Wesley pointed out.

On cue, Angel walked in, Lindsey trailing behind him. He glanced at the box on the desk before surveying the room.

“Where’s Gunn?”

“Here, boss.” Gunn slid in and closed the door behind hi“Too“Took a bit more time than I thought it would to get the info from Merl’s cousin.”

“I can’t imagine why he would be less than forthcoming,” Wesley murmured.

Angel shot him a look, crossed his arms and leaned back to rest against his desk. Five wary faces looked back at him. Neither Xander nor Spike met his gaze.

Xander shifted his weight uncomfortably on the couch as the silence drew out. He didn’t want to be here. He had thrown every argument he could think of at Spike, only to be ignored, bullied, and threatened into coming. Now sitting in the midst of the LA fang gang, he felt the pull of the Scooby life more than he had in months and even as it felt familiar, it hurt. Whatever this meeting was about, he knew it didn’t bode well—at the very least a new apocalypse had to be brewing—and he wanted nothing more than to be elsewhere, any elsewhere. With that option apparently out of the question, he settled on not making eye contact with anyone, especially brood boy or the bleached menace that dragged him here.

“Lindsey, sit.” Xander watched out of the corner of his eye as the lawyer quietly took a seat in the corner of the room, included, but clearly outside the margins of the group. Wes sat in one of the chairs across from Angel’s desk and Lorne occupied the other with Fred balanced on the arm. Gunn slouched against the wall, arms crossed in an unconscious mimicry of Angel’s pose.

Silence reigned for a lmomemoment, and Xander found his eyes inexplicably drawn toward the large vampire. Angel picked up a folder off of his desk, running a finger over the top of the metal box in a gesture that could only be described as a caress.

“This is the contract that gave us Wolfram & Hart.” He held the folder loosely in his hands.

“Your contract, you mean?” Wes asked.

“No, this is the contract.” Angel corrected.

“But we all signed our own,” Fred offered confused.

“Yeah, I had to negotiate with that cat thing to get four weeks time off ‘stead of three.”

“Your contracts are sub-clauses to the primary contract.” Lindsey spoke up from the corner. A quiet growl silenced him. Xander watched the lawyer shrink back in his chair with a grimace and an eye roll.

“Is there a reason that you’ve not mentioned this before?”

“Yes, Wes, there’s a very good reason. The terms of the contract state that you can’t read it.”

“What’s changed?” Gunn’s voice took on an edge.

“I’m sure Angel knows what he’s doing, right Angel? I mean, he wouldn’t keep secrets if it wasn’t important, and he’s telling us know.” Fred turned to Angel, “You are aren’t you, gonna tell us, that is?”

Xander stared at Fred in amazement, echoes of Willow babble bringing the ghost of a smile to his face.

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it. Something’s changed regarding our relationship with Wolfram & Hart. Is that right, Angel?” Wes fixed the vampire with a penetrating gaze. Wow, somebody who can make deadboy uncomfortable, Xander suppressed his smirk. Maybe this meeting wouldn’t be so bad if Angel got in trouble for being a bad doggie.

Angel cleared his throat and looked down at the folder. “This is the primary contract. Lilah drew it up. I signed it. We got Wolfram & Hart.”

“Well that begs the question, tall, dark and broody, what’s in the fine print?” Lorne templed his fingers.

“The fine print is that my son got a new life,” collective looks of consternation met that statement, “and that none of you would remember him.”

Xander felt himself flush with anger as he watched the expressions on everyone except Angel. Fuck, his discomfort at being part of this group, albeit on the sidelines, became nearly unbearable. He felt himself flinching back into the couch at the chill atmosphere of betrayal that settled over the room.

“Why don’t you tell us, then.” Wes’s voice was low and cold.

“Perhaps you had better reserve judgment until I have,” Angel snarled back.

Xander closed his eyes. No more. He found himself suddenly reminded of another group meeting where the troops rebelled against their leader. Clenching his fists, he struggled to repress memories of telling Buffy that none of them trusted her leadership anymore, the stabbing pain in his eye and in his heart as he turned away from her stricken face. He couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Spike, wondering if he was the only one suffering from the onslaught of that image before he remembered that Spike hadn’t been there. But whatever Spike was seeing, it clearly wasn’t a happier thought than his own, for the vampire looked like he had been stabbed in the gut. Shock and pain graced his drawn features until he noticed Xander’s attention and schooled himself into his usual bored, detached expression.

Angel had begun speaking, opening the metal box as he so, so, pulling out baby items, a torn shirt, a wooden stake. He told them of Darla’s return, the baby’s birth, the betrayal and kidnapping, Holtz’s escape and Connor’s return. His audience sat silent, casting skeptical glances at one another. Xander only half-listened to the monologue as he watched the reactions of the people around him. Angel finished speaking, gesturing to the contract. Glances became a vying for who would have to talk to the crazy vampire, and silence dragged out. From the corner of the room, Lindsey’s spoke in a soft drawl, almost regretfully, “Memini. Ignosce. Perpetiar.”

Indulgent and worried disbelief turned to silent shock as memory returned. Xander shifted uncomfortably, unable to look away from the perpetrator of the spell and its victims. More pain, more pain than they came in with seemed to swirl chaotically through the room, intensifying as it bounced between them, fragmenting them. On the couch, Xander shuddered and drew his arms around himself, desperately pushing away the empathetic remembrance of the tabula rasa spell that had gone so cruelly awry. He spared a glance at Spike to see if the vampire next to him was caught in the same moment, but the blank look and distant pain in those blue eyes seemed to speak of a much deeper suffering than an evening spent as Randy Giles.

“Look, I know…”

“What do you know? What exactly do you think you know?” Gunn rocketed off the wall to stand directly in front of Angel. “You know you raped our minds? Took away a year of our lives? Just so you could feel better as a daddy? ‘Cause that’s what I know.” He stood gripped in fury, and his voice turned cold. “And that’s more than I want to know.” Without a look in his co-workers direction, Gunn walked out of the office.

“He’ll be back, won’t he? I mean, he’s just angry because of the memory erasing.”

“Rape, I believe he called it, Fred.” Wesley’s flat tone silenced her. “Memini. Ignosce. Perpetiar. Remember. Endure. Forgive. Such a curious phrase to break this particular spell.”

“The Senior Partners know it’s not exactly a random phrase that would get thrown around this office. It’s the standard passcode for undoing contract spells.” Lindsey stood and moved closer to the group.

“Yes, well, if we’re done here, I believe I have some research on the Telienon that I need to be getting back to.” Wesley stood and turned to leave.

“Wesley, for what it’s worth. I’m sorry.” Angel struggled to speak the words.

Wesley stared at him. “Nothing, Angel. It’s worth nothing.” He walked out the door and down the hall to his office.

“What about Connor?” Fred spoke hesitantly.

“What do you mean,” Angel suddenly grew alarmed.

“Well, if we all remember and the contract’s broken, what’ll that mean for him?”

Angel turned on Lindsey, and the lawyer found himself once again back braced up against the wall with a snarling vampire staring at him.

“What have you done to my son?”

Spike snorted. “Bit late to be thinkin’ about that, innit Peaches?” The characteristic smirk returned, though Xander could see that it didn’t reach the vampire’s eyes.

“Shut up, Spike. Now, tell me about my son.”

“You killed him, if I heard the story right.”

Angel dropped Lindsey and in the same swift movement slammed his fist into Spike’s jaw. The blond vampire tumbled to the ground under the force of the blow, making no attempt to defend himself.

“Angel! What the fuck!” Xander was on his feet and reaching out to Spike, only to have his hand batted away as the vampire rose from the floor with fluid grace.

“Enough, already.” Lorne stood shakily.

“Lorne?” Fred stepped over to offer a skinny shoulder in support.

“Sorry, pumpkin, memory spells always make me a bit queasy, and that plus the atmosphere in here? Well, let’s just say we’re not swimming in puppies.” He started toward the door, leaning on Fred. “You know, when my head finally stops auditioning for the next Spinal Tap drummer, I’m going to love the irony that forgiveness is the word that lifted the spell in a place where it can never be found.” Fred patted his arm and led him out of the office, leaving the vampire’s staring one another down as Xander and Lindsey watched warily.

“Fuck you, Angelus.” Soft, broken, and desolate, the words fell from Spike’s bloodied lips. He wiped the back of his sleeve across his face, smearing the blood rather than cleaning it.

“Spike,” Xander reached out, but again Spike dodged the touch. Hurt blossomed in his chest, reminding him of his resentment over being dragged to this meeting in the first place.

“Fine,” he ground out. He turned to Angel and sneered, “Meeting over? Good.” He stalked out of the office. Once in the hall, his sense of purpose faltered. Without Spike and the map, he doubted he could find his way back to the Hyperion. Tension pricked at him. Seeing Angel tear his team apart, knowing the violation that he had committed, he knew as well as the others that Lindsey’s words would prove difficult if not impossible to achieve. They might remember, but Xander wasn’t convinced they would endure, let alone forgive. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the pain and chaos of the room behind him, only to remember Wesley’s comment about his work. His work researching the Telienon. The same Telinon vampire clan that he had recently been rescued from. Fuck. He squared his shoulders and approached the receptionist to find out how to get to Wesley’s office.


Left alone with his brooding Sire and the rumpled lawyer, Spike straightened his spine and squared off in front of Angel.

“Just tell me if I’m next, Angelus. Darla, Penn, settin’ fire to Dru. Stabbing Connor. Need to know if I should be gettin’ my will drawn up courtesy of Wolfram and Hart before you kill off the last of your family. If I am really the last, that is. Didn’t exactly get the birth announcement on the little nipper. Musta got lost in the mail.”

Angel couldn’t keep contact with that icy stare, and he dropped his eyes.

“Always good to see family.” He turned to walk out the door. As he passed the threshold he paused. “At least have the decency to do it to my face when you decide yer done with me as well.” He glanced back to meet Angel’s startled look. “Promise me that much…Sire.”

“Spike,” Angel stuttered, torn up by the resigned desolation on that face that never could hide emotion. Spike nodded decisively, as if an agreement had been reached, and made his way out of the building toward the first drink of what he knew would be a long night.


Xander hovered in the open doorway, watching Wesley stare unseeing at the parchment spread across his desk. He struggled through several conversation openers in his head, but there didn’t seem to be a good way to say “hey need any help researching the psycho vamps that I got involved with and ended up threatening your lives?” He frowned.

“Mr. Harris, I would appreciate it if you would state your business and go. I’m rather busy at the moment.”

Xander startled at the low voice and looked up to meet Wesley’s weary gaze.

“Xander.”

Wesley blinked.

“Um, Xander, you know, not Mr. Harris.”

“Very well, Xander. How can I help you?”

“Actually, that was my line,” Xander stepped into the office. “With, uh,” he gestured at the books and papers, “research, you know, on the…vampires.” His voice dropped shamefully on the last word.

“Wolfram and Hart has an entire research staff. While I appreciate the offer, your services are not necessary.” Wesley returned to staring at the pages in front of him.

Ignoring the effective dismissal, Xander ploughed on. “It’s just that I feel kinda, okay, totally responsible that there’s even a Teilenon issue to be researched in the first place.”

“We all have our burdens to bear.” Wesley responded shortly.

“And some of us need to take responsibility for those,” Xander shot back.

Wesley pushed a button on his telephone, “Miss Winters, would you call a car around to return Mr. Harris to the Hyperion? Thank you.”

“Fuck you, too, Wes.” Xander’s sar app appeared to have no effect on the occupied ex-Watcher. Suddenly tired, “Fuck all of you. And fuck me, too.” He made the slow walk back toward the reception desk and out the front doors to crawl into the black Towncar that awaited him.