The Highlander Factor

Spike returned to chaos and confrontation, and rather than getting involved with the humans shouting in the lobby, he headed for the office, the books under his arm. Once there he started going through the drawers of the filing cabinet looking for Angel's stash of decent alcohol, which he quickly found buried under some papers in the bottom drawer. Not bothering to locate a glass, he broke the seal on the Irish whisky and took a deep swig, then chuckled quietly to himself at the ironythe the situation. He had used alcohol to dull the pain of losing the ability to hunt and kill for so long, now he was using it because his soul made him feel guilty about the self same thing, he was still drinking to forget it was only the details that had changed.

The total opposite to what had happened when he gained the soul, he supposed. In that case the details had stayed eerily the same, he was still a vampire with the urge to feed from warm human bodies, could still tell exactly how many people were in the lobby from the sounds of their beating hearts. He was still Spike, with a short temper, a smart mouth, and an unerring ability to antagonise everyone, just as Angel was still Angelus, as witnessed by the whisky hidden in the drawer. One of his favourite games as a fledgling had been tracking down and nicking Angelus' best booze.

It was the big picture that had undergone such a metamorphosis, now he empathised with the pain humans felt, cared about their lives in a way that was completely beyond him before. He'd protected the Scoobies, but in all honesty it was only because of Buffy, not because he'd given one jot about any of the rest of them, except maybe Dawn, because she was Buffy's little sister and because he'd promised. Had he loved the Slayer before? It had been intense, that much was certain, and there was such a fine line between love and hate, it was sometimes difficult to tell them apart.

And vampires were drawn to Slayers; like the Hellmouth there was something about both that spoke to demons on a level that was pure instinct and incredibly difficult to deny. He had wanted to kill Buffy so badly, wanted his hat trick of Slayers; it had been an icy flame inside him, burning and all consuming. So when he could no longer kill her was it any wonder that the feeling had become love instead? Obsessive, demon love, but passionate and genuine all the same.

The bottle was one third empty and Spike gave it a speculative swoosh around, wondering how much more it would take before he could face the ot. At. At least with the soul gone he would stop feeling so bad about the lives he'd taken, but that was cold comfort in the face of what he would loose. He would be back in the no man's land that he had inhabited for the last few years, marking time in eternity waiting for something to change. Maybe he should get Wesley to promise to stake him after it was done, eternity was a joyless prospect without the ability to follow your instincts.

A body slamming through the door rudely interrupted his foray into maudlin drunkenness and Spike looked up to see Gunn, a taser in his hand looming above Connor who was supine on the floor of the office.

"What the fuck?"

Gunn was shaking with rage as he answered, "It was him. All this time we were searching for Angel and it was him." He pointed at the boy on the floor. "That little shit put Angel in the box and dumped him in the sea because he thought he killed Holtz."

Before the vampire hunter could shock Connor again, Spike put out a restraining hand. "I reckon he did us a favour then, mate."

"What?" Gunn's face was a picture of confusion, as were those of the other humans around the door.

"The way I see it, Angel lost his soul just after he went in the box, so Connor saved you lot from a summer of fun with Angelus. He may not have had good reasons for what he did, but he did you a favour all the same."

As he finished speaking, Spike offered a hand to the boy who was coming round on the floor and hauled him to his feet.

Before anyone could start in on him again, Wesley interjected from the doorway. "He's right. Whatever Connor and Justine's motivations for incarcerating Angel if Angelus had got out without being so restrained and without us having some warning, we would all be dead."

Then he turned to Connor, a stern look on his face and wagged his finger. "Having said that, young man, there was no excuse for what you did to your father, and I will expect you to apologise properly when he gets home."

The last comment from Wesley, on top of the whisky was too much. Spike started chuckling at the sheer ridiculousness of a Watcher telling a vampire's child to apologise when his demonic father got home. It was like a scene from the worst type of soap opera and he'd seen a few bad ones in his time. The humans stared at him, speechless for a few moments before joining in, as they all saw the funnier side of their situation.

As their mirth started to die away, Spike nudged Connor in the ribs and in a stage whisper that could easily be heard by those around them said, "Nice idea with the box. Where were you when I wanted the Gem of Amara? I could have done with a good idea like that."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Some hours later, after most of the group had crawled off to their rooms' to grab some much needed sleep, Wesley was poring over his books making notes on possible spells, and trying to re tre the vampire dozing uneasily on the couch. Like other times he had watched when Spike slept, the fact that he was dreaming was evident in the way he thrashed and mumbled almost continuously. If things followed their typical pattern the vampire would wake soon, and either hide his weakness with a display of petulant temper or cry uncontrollably for several hours. It was hard to say which was worse.

But when things took a different turn, the pen dropped from Wesley's hand and all pretence at working vanished. The foetal position the vampire tended to sleep in had gone and he was sprawled on his back, spinelessly relaxed, his movements no longer restless twitching but a slow undulation that seemed to centre around his groin. An area which, Wesley suddenly realised, was no longer covered by denim but instead by a hand that was stroking rhythmically. Momentarily embarrassed by this turn of events, Wesley was about to wake Spike up until he heard the name the vampire was chanting under his breath. It was enough to stop him in his tracks.

As a Watcher he had been taught about the relationships between vampires, but had never broached the subject with Angel, feeling it was far too intimate to discuss, but he had always been curious. It appeared the Council was right in its speculations because the name Spike was repeating in the midst of an obviously erotic dream was Angelus'. Unable to drag his gaze away, Wesley found himself completely hypnotised as much by the implications of what he was seeing, as he was by the intensity of the scene in front of him. His mind was filled with images of the two vampires locked in an amorous embrace, and he found the idea both frightening and terribly arousing.

Moving as quietly as possible he stood and crept out of the office in search of coffee, and something to distract him from his imagination. As the door clicked quietly shut, Spike opened his eyes and smiled, hoping he had made his point to the Watcher without having to get into the realms of awkward and revealing discussions.

About half an hour later, he wandered out and found Wesley perched next to the reception desk, sipping from a mug and obviously miles away. In a moment of mischief he slipped into game face, sidled up behind the oblivious human and grabbed him round the waist.

"Boo!"

Wesley's heart lurched in his chest at the cold arms and intimate embrace, rather too close to what he'd been thinking about to be completely comfortable and shot round, only to be confronted by a smug, fang filled grin.

"Bloody hell, Spike. Don't do that, I nearly had a heart attack." He was released, pulse still pounding in his ears, and rubbed his arms trying to get the hairs to lie flat again.

"No, you didn't." The ridges and fangs had melted away to be replaced by blue eyes and a cheerful smirk as the vampire went in search of a meal in the small fridge. "Your heart would have made a completely different sound. Like, spastic drum solo, followed by silence."

When Wesley didn't respond to his light-hearted quip, Spike shot him an apologetic look as he took his mug of blood out of the microwave. "Sorry about that. I didn't really mean to scare you, just make you jump."

His apology was waved away. "It's not that, you didn't scare me. I was just thinking about how we get to Angelus." And about you and Angelus, but Wesley was not about to mention where his thoughts had really been dwelling. Spike nodded for Wesley to continue and sat down opposite him.

"You can't work magics, can you?"

"No. That was Dru's bag not mine. I don't like it."

"That's going to make it more difficult. I was hoping to find a simple spell but...that leaves us with potions and they are much harder to administer."

"You make it up; I'll make sure he takes the medicine. What are we going to go for? Something that will knock him out or what?"

"I thought about that, but then it occurred to me that any unusual behaviour on his part may alert his minions and put Willow and Dawn in danger. What we really need is something that will distract him for long enough so that the rest of us can get in and steal them out from under his nose. Then we can return and dispose of the minions and capture Angelus, probably a task most easily completed with the traditional manacles and chains."

With a cynical laugh at the human's expense, Spike extemporised. "So you want to distract a Master vampire long enough to sneak into his lair, steal his prisoners, and dust his minions. You're asking a lot, Wesley. I'm good but not that good. I might need a bit of help."

Wesley flushed and looked into his coffee, the implicit suggestion in the vampire's comment not lost on him. Spike grunted in satisfaction as he gulped down his blood, at least they seemed to be reading from the same page now, there was only one thing that would keep Angelus distracted for long and it was going to be up to him to provide it.

"I-I was thinking of something that may confuse him. There is one potion..." Wesley's voice trailed off as he stared, open mouthed at the main door. There, standing hunched up on the stairs with her arms wrapped around her, was Cordelia, the one Spike remembered from his dream, all blonde bobbed hair and sexy voluptuous curves.

"Umm...Hi, guys." Cordelia shrugged apologetically, and then squealed as she was caught up and swept off her feet in a tight embrace. "Wes, Wes, put me down! Breakable person here."

Wesley gave her one last swing before placing her carefully on her feet, and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Cordelia, it's so good to have you back."

"Restrained, much." She patted fussily at her hair and frowned petulantly, but her eyes glowed with pleasure at the greeting and she stood on her toes to return his kiss. "It's good to be back, Wes. Where is everyone?"

She looked around the empty lobby; there was no one to be seen.

"Spike's..." Wesley stopped. "Well, he was here a moment ago. The others are all asleep; it was a busy night."

"Tell me about it. One minute on a higher plane doing the Powers one favour after another then, pop, out on my ear in downtown LA and not the nice part of town, either. It was lucky I remembered the account details for the cab firm we use or I would be vamp dinner by now."

As she talked, Cordelia grabbed the last clean mug and helped herself to the pitchy liquid that was lurking in the bottom of the coffee maker. Adding neither milk nor sugar she swigged it back and swallowed with a grimace. "God, I missed coffee. Are there any doughnuts?"

"A higher plane? Cordelia, where have you been?"

"It's a long story and believe me when I say you don't want the details, it wasn't that interesting. The shortened version though? The Powers decided it was time I moved up dimensions, so I did. They didn't like how I did things, so I'm back. Picky employers, worse than you, if that's possible."

She sank onto the stool Spike had been sitting on minutes before, and looked over at Wesley who was still stood somewhat shell-shocked in the entrance. "What? I\ot aot allowed to come back? Don't tell me you took on someone else."

Never one to beat around the bush when it came to business, Wesley jumped into the monologue before she could start again. "No, no. It's just...Will you still be able to swap the soul over now you're back?"

Cordelia stared at him. "Is that all you have to say. No, 'Oh that must have been awful Cordy' or 'How have we managed without you, Cordelia'."

She sighed at her ex-boss's distressed expression. "Yes, I can. It's not so hard, and so long as we do it in the next few days there shouldn't be any problems."

Wesley sank into the nearest seat and ran his hands through his hair. He wasn't sure how to take the news, he still couldn't decide whether the plan they had come up with was workable...The plan. Damn. He hadn't had a chance to talk to Spike about the potion. Now the vampire had vanished and how did they do that? Angel did it too, sometimes, moved without making a sound. It was most annoying when you wanted to speak to them.

"Hey, earth to Wesley. Anyone home?"

"Huh?" He looked up to see Cordelia's concerned expression and realised he probably looked an absolute fright. There had been no time to go home to shave and change in the last day or so, and he rubbed a hand across his stubbly chin somewhat ruefully. He had been cultivating the unshaven, rough look since the injury to his throat had prevented him shaving for a while, but there was such a thing as too long.

*~*~*~*~*

Wesley awoke with the uncomfortable feeling he was being watched. He cracked open his eyes and could just make out a dark figure sat on the end of the bed in the gloom of the unlit room, but it was the eyes that drew his attention; golden, glowing and dec.
c.

"S-Spike?" The glow disappeared for a moment, as if their lids had shuttered closed, then reappeared. There was absolute silence in the room, and the dull roar of the street from outside was drowned out by his own breathing which sounded grotesquely loud in his ears. Fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand, Wesley nearly yelped when the vampire moved up the bed with preternatural speed and grabbed his arm, capturing it in a bone-crushing grip. Refusing to succumb to the panic he could feel rising in his throat, he tried to sit up, then froze when he felt a snuffling on his neck across the scar followed by a wet tongue, and just the barest hint of fangs.

"You smell good, Wes. Sweet with fear." Low, husky tones were breathed chillingly against his skin and the cool wetness was back, laving his neck roughly and repetitively, bringing the blood to the surface. Wesley's breath hitched. He didn't know whether to be terrified or angry, but wasn't this exactly what he deserved for inviting a vampire into his home.

ng wng was gently dragged down the line of his neck and Wesley could feel a scream welling up in his chest. Then the voice was back, just as quiet. "Do you want me to finish what she started? It would be so easy, just a little pain and then nothing... forever. Is that what you want Wes? Or is it this?"

His hand was taken and pressed into the vampire's groin, and when he felt the hardness there he briefly wondered if it was his fear that was so arousing or the fact that it was him. He risked a swallow and released his breath slowly, if Spike were doing this then he had no plans to kill him immediately.

Unable to remove his hand, he settled for holding his fingers as far away from the denim as he could manage. "What is this, Spike? Is this how you repay my welcome, assaulting me in my own bed?"

"Na-ha. Not assaulting you, Watcher. I smelled you earlier, in the office, could smell what you wanted. Got you going, didn't it. The thought of me and him, together." The fangs were gone and Wesley could feel soft lips against his neck, but the hands holding him were still cool and inhumanly strong.

"I won't deny it, I can't. But this is not what I want." He was released so suddenly he fell back on to the bed. What remained of his breath was expelled with a whoosh. He sucked air in again, hearing how ragged it sounded, and wondered whether the vampire could tell how relieved he was now that their close contact had ceased. He reached over for the lamp and flipped the switch; the yellow light flooding the room showing it to be empty.

For a brief moment, he wondered if it had been some sort of surreal dream until he heard the sound of breaking furniture in the living room. Wesley shot out of the bed, stopping only to grab his robe, and ran out of the bedroom, flicking the main lights on as he went. The coffee table was overturned in the middle of the room, the books he had been reading earlier strewn across the floor, and Spike was sat against the wall the broken leg of the table held against his chest. It wasn't a good stake but with vampiric strength behind it, it would suffice.

When he entered, Spike looked up at him an unfathomable look on his face before returning to stare at the improvised weapon. "I tried to do this once before, you know. When they first put the chip in me. I hated that I couldn't hunt, couldn't kill, and I just wanted it to end. Then I found something, I discovered I could kill other demons, still couldn't feed of course, but at least I could kill. And I did. Good demons or bad ones, I didn't care. I adjusted, made the best of what I got handed, 'cos that's what I do."

The desperate note in the vampire's voice kept Wesley pinned in the doorway, unable to move closer or back away; all he could do was stand, and listen, and pray that an opportunity would present itself. Spike was a mess, his clothes and hair covered in what looked like mud but stank of the sewers, and why hadn't he smelled that before? There were fresh wounds on his arms, no sign of his jacket and one eye looked bruised. As Wesley studied him Spike continued, his voice almost monotone.

"And I got my kicks making the Slayer's life hell, until I fell in love with her. Then she was gone, dead, but it was too late. I'd promised her, so I was stuck looking after them all." He shook his head caught up in his confession and determined to finish.

"Then they brought her back. Just like that. I walked into her house and there she was, alive. But she was hurting, Wes. Hurting so bad and she smelled so good, all that pain and suffering. The others couldn't see it, but I could. Could see what she needed, see that she wanted to be hurt, to be forced to feel again. So I did. Hurt her, used her, and in return she used me." Spike laughed a mocking grating sound after those quiet words.

"Shit. I don't know who fucked whom up worst. Bloody mess it was, but it was better than nothing...then. At least I got to touch her body anyway. Not her soul of course. She could never love me, respect me, the evil soulless monster that I was, could never touch that part of her. And the irony of the whole bloody thing? Cordelia was right. I never bit her, wouldn't have done, 'cos it wasn't my demon panting after her, never was. I learned, see, with the chip. Learned to control it."

He stopped speaking and simply stared at his chest where the jagged point pressed against his shirt. Wesley took a step forward. "Spike...?"

"I did a stupid thing tonight, Wes." As he drew closer, Wesley could see the clean tracks on the vampire's face where his tears had cleared a path in the filth.

"What did you hat\hat's worth killing yourself over?"

Spike looked up and Wesley noticed his eyes were haunted. "I killed a man. Is that bad enough?"