And Make a Lost World Thy Home: Chapter Six

[jesterladyfic]

Chapter Six:

Even though he knew who he was now, Spike wasn’t having an easy time adjusting back to unlife. He didn’t know if it would be better if he was in a familiar place, but that didn’t really matter, because the only familiar places that he would want to be in were rubble at the bottom of a cavern he’d created.

Veronica and Logan’s house was nice, touches he could recognize as theirs everywhere, but otherwise, it felt strange to be there. After dinner, he went back up to Buffy’s bedroom, the only place he felt somewhat comfortable.

His head was spinning and he had to keep fighting for constant control of his sanity. Every moment brought a fresh memory to his mind and he had to force it to the background. The things he wanted to remember, like reading to his mother, or dancing with Drusilla on the streets, or the feel of Buffy surrounding him - those were all weak memories, floating like cobwebs in his mind.

The things he wished he could simply vanish were there in vivid detail and color. The first kill, sinking his fangs into his mother’s neck, a little girl cowering in a coal bin, so many faces stained with fear, looking up at the face of their death. He was coated in blood, in evil, in wrong, and he’d loved every second of it. That was the worst part.

He’d known all of this before, but now it mattered; now it actually mattered. He’d felt somewhat bad about a few things, horrible about his mother, had decided that he’d like to try a new way back when he’d fallen for Buffy, but those smatterings of times when he’d made the right call or done the right thing had never conveyed to him the horrible stain of evil on his being. He’d never known it until he got his soul back.

The moment of getting his soul he’d never trade, but he hadn’t had to think about it at the time. It was all death and glory, dying in a blaze of light. When he’d come back, everything was so new and strange and it had taken him awhile to remember everything, to cope with suddenly walking in the world again. Then the first feelings of guilt had hit and he was overwhelmed, suddenly terrified of who and what he was and how he was supposed to live.

So many images flooded his head, so many memories, and he could not handle them. The guilt was too much and by the time Buffy had brought him in to her bedroom, he’d only mustered up enough strength to collapse and beg her to help him rest. She had held him together the whole night, her presence still the most calming thing to him, but with the morning came new thoughts, new memories, and new guilt and he’d fallen with the weight of it all.

He’d been lost within himself, focused only on everything he’d done, and reliving every moment. Every time he’d tried to grab hold of anything other than the badness of who he was, he’d sunk back down into his own personal hell. He was lost, without identity, simply a bad man who’d hurt people. He’d wandered there, helpless, until something familiar had caught a hold of him and dragged him out.

His theory was that because Angel was a part of the evil memories, Spike had been able to understand his attempts to reach him. Being with Angel was pain and Spike deserved pain. He wasn’t sure he was Spike, he wasn’t sure there was anything but guilt, which had to be William’s influence, but he could hear Angel, he could focus on his words, and he could use those words as a defense against drowning.

The thought of Buffy and what she meant was another lifeline. Being lost was hurting her and that was something he’d sworn never to do. Not hurting anyone was always on William’s agenda, so some kind of truce was sworn. Yet it took all of his concentration to keep from slipping again. Dinner had been its own brand of hell and only sniping at Angel had kept him from going crazy. Just looking at everyone was hard; they all looked so different to him. Only Angel was the same and the idea that Angel could be the one thing keeping him sane was a brand of insanity all to itself.

Spike needed a break and that’s why he was in Buffy’s bedroom. It already smelled like her, which was comforting. The night before had been the only good thing about coming back so far.

He wasn’t surprised when she followed him and he was glad. New and lurking insecurities were present with him and he wanted to be more than an obligation to her. He had no idea what she’d been doing with her life since he’d been gone.

“Needed a change of scene,” he informed her before she could say anything. “Research is not really my thing.”

“I remember,” she said, crossing to sit next to him on the bed.

“Hard to reach back that far?” he asked in simple curiosity.

She shook her head.

“Spike, could you please stop making insinuations about us forgetting you?”

“Not what I meant,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t exactly ask for this, pet.”

“Nobody asked for this,” said Buffy, which made something inside of him twinge.

“Right,” he said, feeling incredibly alone.

Maybe the kiss they’d shared downstairs meant nothing to her and it had just been some kind of ‘welcome back from the dead’ gesture.

“I-I don’t know how to handle this,” Buffy said, getting up and folding her arms. “It’s just…weird.”

“What am I supposed to do about that?” he asked tersely.

“Just give me some time,” she said.

“You’ve had five bloody years,” he said. “I’m the one who needs sodding time.”

“You didn’t have to watch you die,” she said.

“No, but I’ve watched you die,” he said.

She really didn’t have anything to say to that and he watched her pace for a while, not quite sure why she was panicking now, though maybe it had something to do with not being able to do anything but wait.

She stopped and faced away from him for a minute and then turned back, her face soft. She stepped closer to him and slowly touched his face.

“Spike. Is that really you?”

“Can’t promise it,” he said, enjoying her touch for all that.

“That’s what worries me,” she said.

“I’m…sussing it all out,” he said. “But you do gotta give me time, love. Can’t expect the Big Bad back all in one minute.” He winced even as he said it, being the Big Bad was no longer all that appealing. Still, neither was being William the Bloody Awful Poet.

“I know, I know,” she said. “I’ve just reached the freak-age stage.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he said.

“Yes, there is, if I’m being horribly unfair to everyone around me. Of the bad,” she said.

He reached out and gingerly put his hands on her shoulders.

“Faced worse, yeah?”

“Why are you always the one comforting me?” she asked, leaning into the touch.

“Just lucky, I guess,” he said.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” she said, moving forward and wrapping her arms around his waist.

He adjusted his arms around her shoulders and pondered how strange it was to actually feel her body against him, her heartbeat thumping loudly to his vampire ears. They had never simply hugged often. Their physical interactions had started with violence and ended with sex, but simple, tender affection hadn’t been as much of a part of their relationship until more towards the end.

“Confused,” he said. “Got no idea what I’m supposed to be doing or who I’ll be. Everyone else knows what’s been happening, but I’ve got no bloody clue. Feels like I’m crazy.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, muffled into his shirt.

“Thanks,” he said.

“I-I don’t know how to deal with the fact that you’re alive,” she said. “I’ve lived for so long without you; I don’t know if I know how to live with you.”

“You’re not- you got someone else, right?” he said, stumbling over how to ask the question. “Five years is a long time, love.”

She shook her head and he tried to stop his relief from showing.

“I…I tried,” she said. “Several times I thought it might work, but it, well, it just never did.”

He blinked, staring at the wall, trying not to feel hurt. After all, it wasn’t her fault he felt like he’d woken up with her in his arms every day for the last two years. To her, she’d woken up without him for five. It didn’t stop the surge of jealousy.

“Sorry about that,” he finally said.

She shook her head and then moved away from him.

“This is too weird,” she said. “Talking to you about dating other people while you were dead. Even for us, it’s just too weird.”

“Got it in one,” he said. “So, what’s next then?”

“We figure out why you’re here,” she said. “Something’s clearly going on and I doubt it was for my love life that you were brought back.”

“You want me to go?” he asked, uncomfortable, gesturing at the bed. “Gotta be someplace else in this place to get some kip.”

She shook her head.

“Angel and Cordelia have the other guest room and Wesley’s on the office couch bed. I guess you could ask to bunk with him if you really wanted…”

He was grateful she was taking things to a lighter place.

“Me and the Watcher never really got along those few times we met,” he said, shrugging. “Doubt we’re ready to be the Odd Couple.”

“I want you to stay here,” she said, not really looking at him. “Honestly. I want to keep an eye on you.”

“Make sure I don’t go starkers?” he said.

“Make sure you don’t disappear,” she said instead.

“Buffy,” he said, taking a step toward her and then stopped. “I don’t know why I’m back or anything, but, God help me, Buffy, it’s still all about you.”

She smiled a bit.

“Yeah?”

He stepped even closer.

“A hundred plus years and there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of: you.”

“You’re still good with the words, I see,” she said, looking rather pleased.

“That’s one thing the soul could never take away,” he said.

“Then I’m glad,” she said.

“So, here’s the deal,” he said. “You’re in charge of this. I got stuff to work out here, but in terms of you and me, you make the rules, right? I’ll follow your lead. Always did like being behind you.”

“You’re a pig, Spike,” she said, but she sounded like she wanted to laugh more than she sounded angry. “Thank you. Let’s just…figure all of this out, and you and I are definitely an important part of that.”

“In the meantime,” he said, “I got the floor if you like.”

“No, you’re in the bed with me,” she said. “Will you just hold me?”

He smiled slowly.

“Always.”

He could see the evening turning into something much more relaxing, but naturally that’s when Logan knocked on the door, saying something about Cordelia having a vision.

***

Logan had finished finding everything needed for all of their guests, feeling quite the little housekeeper, when Veronica came out of the living room, saying Cordelia had had a vision.

Naturally, Logan, thought, just when he was really ready for bed.

“I’ll get Buffy and Spike,” he said, instead of sighing melodramatically.

“Thanks,” she said.

Within a fairly short amount of time they were all gathered again and waiting to hear Cordelia’s revelation.

“It’s the Wolfram and Hart building,” she said, with the voice of one used to giving mission briefings. “There’s a large room, it feels cold and there are a lot of people. Most aren’t human. I hear goats. The only lighting is candles. Spike is there, kneeling on the ground, the amulet is around his neck. Lilah is standing there, directing everything. Spike is angry and upset. They’re on some kind of time schedule.”

“That’s it?” asked Buffy.

“Hey, don’t knock the visions,” said Cordelia. “I tell you what I’m given. Pretty sure this one was meant to corroborate her dreams.” She gestured toward Veronica. “Laid out for you by an expert, of course.”

“So, tell us about Wolfram and Hart,” Keith said, folding his arms and directing his question to Angel.

“It’s a law firm,” said Angel. “They control most of the evil in this dimension. They’ve been enemies of mine for years.”

“Angel’s their poster boy,” said Cordelia.

“They’d like to drive him evil,” said Wesley more diplomatically.

“They’ve almost succeeded a few times,” said Cordelia. Angel looked at her, pained. “What? It’s the truth; you’re a vampire, what have you got to be embarrassed about?”

“I always liked her,” mumbled Spike to Logan’s right.

Angel glared in Spike’s general direction and proceeded to give everyone a more thorough version of his dealings with Wolfram and Hart. Everything from a lawyer named Lindsey who’d left to the current head of the ‘drive Angel crazy’ division, Lilah Morgan. In between were crazy events like bringing Darla, Angel’s sire, back to life, and sending visibly physical symptoms of Cordelia’s visions to complement the raging headache.

Logan set his jaw at that, his imagination working over drive on that one.

“So, now that we know Wolfram and Hart is involved, what does that mean?” asked Mac.

“Nothing good,” said Wesley.

“We still don’t have enough information,” said Veronica. “Someone needs to talk directly to the Powers and figure out their agenda. We need eyes on Wolfram and Hart to figure out what they’re up to as well. I’m thinking they were the people who were at the Hellmouth before us, but it would be nice to be sure.”

“I’ll head back to LA,” said Angel, after some kind of eye contact with Cordelia. “I’ll talk to the Powers and I’ll have a little chat with Lilah.”

“If I could go as well,” said Wesley, “and take this with me.” He lifted the amulet. “I have more resources there and I’d like to get Lorne’s take on it.”

“I have all the pics I need, so that’s good with me,” said Mac.

Buffy hesitated.

“Well, then I would like to come as well,” she said. “We need to know what’s going on and it’s always good to have a Slayer at your back.”

Angel didn’t look happy with the idea but he didn’t argue.

“Some reason why I can’t find out what’s going on with me myself?” asked Spike.

“It’s too dangerous,” said Buffy.

“I’m no wilting flower, Slayer,” said Spike.

“You also came back to life yesterday and have already had one attempt on your life,” said Buffy. “No way you’re getting to go in and offer the lions your head.”

“So you’re leaving me here with the noncombatants,” grumbled Spike.

“Hey,” said Veronica. “I’ve kicked your ass sparring.”

“In her body,” Spike pointed out, gesturing to Buffy.

“Okay, that got a little weird,” said Logan. “Spike, whaddaya say you stay here and I fill you in on the last few years?”

“Scottie, I like you better argumentative,” said Spike, but lounged back on the couch.

“Give me time,” said Logan, under his breath.

Spike shot him a look, but didn’t say anything.

“When do you want to leave?” asked Buffy.

“Right now,” said Angel. “Get back before sunrise.”

“I’m staying,” said Cordelia to everyone’s surprise.

“Uh, okay,” said Veronica. “You can help with research here.”

“Yeah, I’ll jump on that,” said Cordelia.

Logan narrowed his eyes at her. He knew it was irrational, but she just looked like someone who made him feel extremely on edge. The feeling had never faded no matter the years since their first meeting.

“Let’s get going then,” said Buffy.

Logan watched everyone disburse. Angel and Cordelia exchanged a kiss and a glance before he walked out the door, taking books from an overloaded Wesley with a well-practiced air of annoyance.

Buffy pulled Spike after her as she went to grab her things.

Keith hugged Veronica goodbye and assured her he’d take care of her cases and that she needed to keep him informed.

Mac and Tara left together, commuting to the coven where Tara lived and Mac would be teaching the next day.

Pretty soon, Buffy had everything she needed and she left with Angel and Wesley, leaving Logan and Veronica with Spike and Cordelia.

“Anything I can do for either of you?” asked Logan, not really in the mood to cater to anyone, he just really wanted to talk to Veronica.

“I think Junior here wants a talk with his lady love,” said Cordelia to Spike.

“I need to clear my head,” mumbled Spike and went upstairs.

Cordelia flourished her hand toward Logan and followed.

“What was that?” asked Veronica, turning to Logan. “She’s always been strange, but…”

“I guess I was telegraphing loudly,” he said.

“You were at that,” she said, crossing toward him, leaning into his side. “What can I do for you, Mr. Echolls?”

“Be serious for me, darling,” he said, leading her to the couch.

“A tall order, but I’ll give it a shot,” she said.

“You come up with anything today?” he asked, forcing casualness into his tone.

“Not much,” she said. “Based on my dream I figured out the city was LA. I was going to run the woman through facial recognition but with Angel and Cordelia recognizing her, I don’t need to do that. You know the rest.”

“Not about what the dream meant.” He shifted to face her better. “Did you find out why it happened at all?”

“And how to get rid of it?” she asked knowingly.

“I guess you are scary smart,” he said.

“Yes, which is why it’s impossible to hide anything from me,” she said.

“No, it’s impossible to hide anything from you because you assume everyone is hiding something from you.”

“They are,” she insisted and the familiar refrain made him smile, but he still had a sour feeling in his stomach.

“You haven’t answered my question, Mars,” he said, poking her. “Evasion is something you can’t pull with me.”

“Marriage has to have a downside somewhere,” she said, then sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I can’t explain it and you constantly freaking out about it is not helping my own state of mind.”

“So you’re freaking out about it?” he asked.

“Yes, no, yes,” she said. “Flip a coin based on the moment. I don’t like to freak out, you know that.”

“Well, we already established you’d like to get rid of it,” he prompted.

“Yes, not having dreams about resurrecting vampires would be nice,” she said. “But I’m beginning to think that’s never going to happen to me again.”

“Don’t say that,” he said more sharply than he’d intended.

She looked at him in surprise.

“What has got you so worked up?” she asked. “None of this is new information.”

“Do you want to end up like our friend upstairs?” Logan said. “With third degree burns and claw marks covering your body or going crazy in a hospital somewhere because somebody decided you knew too much or were doing too much good?”

“I’m going to go with the obvious and say no,” said Veronica. “I don’t think my situation is like Cordelia’s.” She hesitated and Logan could physically see her deciding not to share something. “She gets specific visions from a specific someone. We don’t know what I do yet.”

“Well, maybe focus on that part instead of what the dreams mean,” he said.

“Tara is working on that portion,” said Veronica, glaring at him. “And I really don’t think you’re the one who should be getting to make those decisions. This is my head we’re talking about.”

“Oh, sorry, my wife sees the future, but that will never affect me, you’re right.”

“Logan, don’t do this,” said Veronica.

He looked down at her, she was ready to fight, but she looked tired and worn out, exactly the way he felt.

“I’m too old for this,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re under thirty,” she said blandly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Pretty sure you need centuries or just be fresh out of high school for this kind of energy.”

“You are an adorable old fogey,” she said. “I appreciate your concern, believe me, I share it. We’ll figure it out. But I think it’s just as important we worry about who’s after Spike and why. Once we know that we could very well possibly know why this happened to me, if not how.”

“Okay,” he said. “I surrender.”

“You won’t freak out again if Cordelia tells you colorful stories?” she asked.

“No promises,” he said.

“Never give in, that’s my Logan,” she said.

“All yours, my little wife,” he said.

She rolled her eyes and tugged him up.

“Come on, it’s been a long day. To bed with you.”

“So long as you come along,” he said.

“Always,” she said.

That single word was enough to allay the majority of his frayed nerves and he let himself be put to bed.

***

Veronica went into the office and shut the door. It was mostly her office because Logan didn’t work from home, ever (didn’t work at all if he could help it), and Veronica was constantly bringing things home. The signs that Wesley had been working overtime were everywhere, but the bed Logan had so thoughtfully prepared had gone unused. Veronica looked at it for a moment before settling in at her computer. She didn’t have access to everything on her computer here, she’d done that on purpose, but looking at case files was usually the key to something she’d missed and helped her click pieces into place. Logan had taken Spike into the basement and Veronica was grateful for the peace and quiet.

However, it wasn’t something she was able to enjoy for long because Cordelia shortly stuck her head into the room and then came in.

“Crack the case?” she asked, smiling a little sardonically.

“One needs space to do something like that,” Veronica said, not looking up.

“Your method of coping is unique, I’ll give you that,” said Cordelia, settling herself on the bed and managing to look like a queen on a throne.

“Since I assume you won’t go away until you’ve said whatever you came to say,” Veronica said, turning around, “why don’t you get it over with?”

Cordelia laughed.

“It’s a shame we’ve never spent that much time together. I have a feeling you and I could make Angel’s head explode.”

“And why would you want to make the man you love’s head explode?” Veronica queried.

“For fun,” said Cordelia. “Duh. It’s never good to let Angel sit and stew for too long on anything. He needs to get riled up or he broods for unhealthy periods of time. You’ve got to know what that’s like. Logan has all the signs of a brooder.”

“Logan doesn’t brood…much,” Veronica said uncomfortably.

“No, he’s not nearly as bad,” Cordelia said. “I can see that. Oddly enough, I think he has many of the traits our reckless and snarky friend Spike exhibits, just with a healthy dose of angst and man pain.”

“Oh, please never say anything like that again,” said Veronica, unable to cope with the idea that she’d somehow married Angel and Spike’s love child.

Cordelia laughed again.

“My lips are sealed. No one should have to delve that far into the psyche of others without being paid an obscene hourly fee.”

“But you do all the time,” said Veronica.

“Exactly. So, welcome to the extremely underpaid club, sister.” Cordelia smiled knowingly.

“Is this an initiation rite of some kind?” asked Veronica.

“This is a ‘giving you what I never had’ rite,” said Cordelia. “When I first got the visions, I did not want them. You remember how I got them?”

“Some demon friend of yours or something?” said Veronica.

“Yeah, real classy half-demon, who made Xander look polished on occasion, and that’s saying something. He tells me he’s a demon, kisses me, and then sacrifices himself to save the world.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Right? There should be some kind of club or something around here, but everybody in it would be dead.”

“Except for the ones who came back to life,”

“There is that,” said Cordelia. “Anyway, Doyle transferred the visions to me when he died and I was beyond furious at him. Not just because of the head-splitting migraines, though those were no picnic, but because it was too much to deal with all at once. I just wanted to be an actress, not the voice of the Powers.”

“And that didn’t work out for you,” Veronica said unnecessarily.

“Unless you count alternate realities,” Cordelia said wistfully. “But my point is that I tried to give away the visions to every random person I met and nothing stuck. For better or worse, those puppies were mine and they changed who I was. I became a better person, frankly.”

“I’d hate to have met you before,” said Veronica, smiling.

Cordelia cocked an eyebrow at her.

“That one came free.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m just saying,” said Cordelia, “I know what it’s like to suddenly see things and have to deal with the trauma of that. It changes your life. Not quite sure what happened to you, but it sounds like you’ve got an opportunity here. Maybe instead of trying to get rid of it, you should think about what you could do with it.”

“What if it didn’t come from the Powers?” asked Veronica. “What if it came from Wolfram and Hart?”

“Shed that thing like last year’s Prada,” said Cordelia immediately. “Nothing coming from them is a good thing.”

“Great pep talk,” said Veronica.

“It gets better,” said Cordelia, her face softening. “At least you don’t get headaches. That’s telling me right there, something’s different about what you’ve got, but, hey, maybe you won’t have to get demonized.”

“What exactly do you do anyway?” asked Veronica, curious.

“I float,” said Cordelia. “Sometimes I can project a force field or cleanse evil out of something. Mostly, I just have visions that don’t hurt anymore. So far, it’s a good tradeoff.”

“Is that how you’re with Angel?” Veronica said, wondering if she was going too far.

“You mean because of his curse?” asked Cordelia. “Well, that’s a rude thing to ask.”

“So?”

“Nothing, just commenting. Yeah, that’s pretty much why. The details are none of your business,” said Cordelia, smiling a Cheshire smile.

“Now that we have that out of the way…” Veronica said, rolling her eyes.

“Just let me know if you need to talk, okay?” said Cordelia. “I want to help you if I can. There’s no need to go through this alone, so don’t do the strong girl thing.”

“Thank you,” said Veronica, oddly touched, realizing now that Cordelia must have stayed behind simply to be there for her if Veronica needed it.

“Now, research is so not my thing,” said Cordelia, “but I can help if you need it. Otherwise, I’m going shopping and you can call my cell.”

“Go ahead,” said Veronica. “I really do work better alone.”

“Don’t overdo,” were Cordelia’s parting words and she vanished again.

Veronica sat for a while contemplating. It wasn’t that Cordelia had really said anything too extraordinary, but Veronica had never thought this would be anything but either temporary or something she would hate. It was still too much to deal with and even if she wanted it, she knew Logan never would. What did it mean for their future?

Still, she felt slightly more hopeful than she had before. Her phone beeped and she looked down. Tara would be coming by later. Veronica smiled and settled in to what she was best at: investigation.