No Hero

Author's Notes: In the next chapter, the whole gang reunites. It should be a blast. It should be scary as Hell to write.


Frienemies

“How did it go?”

Spike glanced up from a fascinating spot on the floor at his sire’s question, and he shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine, I suppose. Weren’t you listening?”

“A little,” admitted the brunette vampire. “How is she?”

“Shocked. Worried. She’s just… she’s Buffy.” Bitterly, Spike knew that Angel would understand all that was implied in those few words. Still, there was hope now, wasn’t there? She had barely seemed concerned with Angel’s arm, she hadn’t wanted to hang up. She wanted to apologize. She was coming to Los Angeles.

Buffy. Was. Coming. To. Los. Angeles.

“Fuck, she’s comin’ here!”

“You expected otherwise?” Angel asked gently.

“Don’t be glib, Angelus,” the blonde snapped heatedly as he lit a cigarette. “She’s bringin’ the watcher, the witch, and the whelp.”

“They make quite a team.” After a pause, Angel added, seemingly at random, “I never liked you, William, even when you were evil.”

“Oy! I’m still evil!” the vampire protested. “Let me keep one bleedin’ delusion.”

“Why should I?” demanded the brunette. “You have everything else. You have Buffy.”

And Buffy, both vampires knew, was everything. She was the greatest prize, not humanity. Whoever won Buffy was the true champion. “No one ever really has Buffy,” replied Spike finally.

“I did,” Angel corrected. “You do.”

“Oh, for the love of God!” Spike exclaimed, his natural accent breaking through the cockney façade. “Are you or are you not the love of her life?! She gave you everything she had, and it was never enough for you! You value your own self-loathing more than her, and yet you keep part of her to yourself. You can never let her go, even when you claim you have.”

Rather than halting his childe’s words, the elder vampire listened silently. He had to admit it – grudgingly – that William had always been his most intelligent childe when he actually took the time to apply his intellect.

“You’re clever, you know,” the blonde continued. “You always wait until just the right moment to show yourself again, and she falls. The difference between you and I is that I love her enough to let her go. Could you ever do it? Let her go?”

“She’s all I have left, and it’s my fault. I know that.” That statement wasn’t entirely true. He had Spike and Fred. He had countless helpless mortals in need of aide. He had his eternal suffering and misery.

“You’re a right git.” The cockney accent returned full force, as did the defiant gleam in Spike’s blue eyes.

“Yeah,” the elder agreed. “I know that, too.”

“Oh, God, you’re in a soddin’ coma for years and suddenly we’re gettin’ along. It’s bloody sick, is what it is.”

“Spike…”

“What?” he snapped.

“People are allowed to grow, to change, to –”

“Here we go…”

“Shut up, William. I’ve had a lot of time to think, and things seem much clearer now than they ever have before. We’re going to have to work together to get to the bottom of this, you know that.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t mean we have to be best mates,” the younger vampire said reasonably.

“I still don’t like you,” said Angel. “I doubt I ever will, but the point I’m trying to make is that, like it or not, we’re family. We’ll never solve anything if we’re constantly at each other’s throats.”

“And you’re just now seein’ this? You always were a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

“Not the brightest crayon in the box.”

“You’re doing it again,” Spike complained.

“What am I doing now?” Angel’s patience with his childe was wearing thin, but he was determined to try to get along with him to make things easier for Buffy – and to prove to her that he was still the better man, that he had been the one to reach out to his childe.

“Pretending you don’t hate me, tryin’ to get along. It doesn’t suit you,” he stated simply.

“Dún do bheal!” the brunette vampire finally shouted. “Just shut your mouth!” he repeated in English.

It was then that a thought finally occurred to Spike, and a small smile that was purely hateful touched his lips. “You’re gonna try to win her back, aren’t you, Liam?”

Angel’s eyes widened at the accusation. It wasn’t far from the truth. “No,” he insisted. “I just want Buffy to know that I never stopped loving her.”

“She’ll choose you in a heartbeat, even if she does love me. Do you know why? Because she’s never forgiven herself for sendin’ you to Hell, it still eats away at her. More than that, though, you were her first love.”

“This isn’t about you.”

“Isn’t it?” asked Spike. “You’ve always had to be the best; you always have to get in one… last… dig. Like with Dru.”

“This has nothing to do with Drusilla, William.” Angel’s voice was both fierce and weak at the same time. It did have something to do with Drusilla – it always would. He knew that Spike no longer loved her as he once had, but the memory of having her stolen from him was still fresh. It was still enough to make him believe he would do the same with Buffy.

“It’s her decision to make, not yours. Tell her everythin’, tell her you’ll become human if you save enough people. Tell her, Liam, and don’t be stupid. But let me tell you one thing: if you hurt her, I’ll send you back to Hell permanently. May the best man win,” he said coldly. With that, he turned away and strode down the hall in a flurry of black leather.

Resentfully, Angel whispered to the empty room. “He already has.”