It was time.
Angel removed the telephone book from the bottom drawer and dropped it onto
the fastidiously neat surface of his garage sale oak wood desk. With a tiny
furrow between his brows, he began to flip through the yellow pages in
search of a company that would suit his needs. He knew he could ask
Cordelia to chose one for him, but he wanted to do this now, today, and not
next week when she finally got around to making a choice.
It was bad enough that he was giving in to the twenty-first century, he
didn't want to have to wait to do so.
Angel's eyes skimmed the multitude of entries on the yellow page. In the
other office, he could hear his friend and secretary, the ex-Mrs.
Fitzpatrick, Cordelia Chase, chatting on the phone to her three- year-old
daughter. The muted clinks of fencing foils floated from the basement vent,
accompanied by laughing and conversation from Wesley Wyndham-Price and
Charles Gunn, Angel's friends and co-workers.
The ten years in which the four of them had worked together had flown by.
It seemed like just yesterday that Cordelia had wangled a job out of Angel,
Rogue Demon Hunter Wesley had become Employed Demon Hunter, and Gunn had
exchanged a favor for a favor.
The offices of Angel Investigations had undergone many changes over time, as
well. So far, they'd been bombed, burned to the ground, destroyed by an
earthquake, flooded, infested with termites, and skunked. Getting skunked
had been the worst. It was impossible to get the stench out of leather.
Angel was still pouting over the loss of his coat.
Their current offices were located in a quasi-seedy neighborhood in Los
Angeles. The area was nice enough that paying clients weren't scared off,
and downtrodden enough that demons and needy humans weren't scared off
either.
Angel Investigations had an outer lobby/office, an inner office, and a small
basement where Angel was making his home. Since they'd only been there a
short while, Angel was sleeping on an army surplus cot, and his dresser,
night-stand and desk were cardboard boxes. The rest of the basement was
being used for weapons and book storage.
"Damn it," Angel muttered, glowering at the phone book. There were too many
choices. What happened to the days when the choice was between Jack, the
smithy and Jack, the smithy?
And why did Angel Investigations need a webpage, anyway? Okay, yes, the
world was now dominated by dot coms and e-commerce... and they'd get more
paying business if they had some form of advertisement... and their free
services to those in need would also reach more people... and it *was* the
twenty-first century...
Angel growled, closed his eyes, and jammed his finger down on the open phone
book. He opened his eyes and read the name.
Otherworld Technologies
1-888-555-1221
The dark-haired vampire hit a button for an outside line on the phone,
dialed the number, then picked up the receiver. The line rang twice before
an automated female's voice greeted him.
"Hello. You have reached Otherworld Technologies. If you have a software
problem or question, press one. If you have a hardware problem or question,
press two. If you would like to speak to someone about webpage design or
applications, press three."
Angel was about to press three as instructed when the next option made him
pause.
"If you believe that your computer is possessed, press four."
"What?" Angel said.
"If you would like a symbol, glyph, rune, or other image defined, press
five."
Angel blinked in surprise.
"If you have questions on computer magick, press six."
Angel slumped back in his chair, flabbergasted.
"If you are a vendor or in sales, press seven. If you have a complaint
about one of our websites, press eight. To repeat the options, press nine.
If you wish to speak to an operator, press zero. "
Angel's fingers hovered over the buttons on the phone as he mentally debated
on pressing an option. Otherworld Technologies sounded like a company a
vampire would call. But Angel wasn't just any vampire, he was an indecisive
worrywort when it came to making non-life or death choices.
Think of it this way, Angel told himself as he forced himself to press three
on his phone. If this company is messing with things they shouldn't be
messing with, you can stop it. If they're not, they could be just the
company to design a website for a souled vampire, a seer, an ex-Watcher, and
a vampire hunter.
"Otherworld Technologies, Website Design, how can I help you?" a pleasant,
confident male voice asked over the line.
"Um, hello." Angel straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. "I'm
interested in, uh... putting up?... a webpage."
"Business or personal?" the man asked.
"Business."
"Occult related or not?"
Angel shouldn't have been surprised, after the options menu he'd heard, but
he was. "Kind of both," he replied hesitantly.
"Bookstore, gift store, antique store or investigative agency?"
The vampire shook his head in amazement. "Investigative agency."
"Okay. Do you own your own domain?"
"No, renting."
The male chuckled, and a memory tickled Angel's mind. He didn't take time
to delve into his subconscious, though, because the other man began speaking
again.
"You do own a computer, right? And have Internet access?"
"Yes," Angel said. "Of course."
"Of course," an amused male echoed.
Angel scowled. Why did people treat him like he was a technologically
impaired moron? He wasn't *that* behind the times.
And programming his VCR didn't count. No sane person knew how to do that.
"Should I send you some materials and examples of our website designs, or
would you prefer to have an in-office presentation of what Otherworld
Technologies can offer?"
"How soon would I be able to have that presentation?" Angel asked in return.
He knew if he didn't do this A.S.A.P.., he'd talk some sense into himself
and forget about this website stuff.
"As soon as tomorrow at 4:00 p.m."
"Sounds good." Angel jotted down the name of the company and the time on a
pad of paper.
"I just need your address," the male on the other end of the line
instructed.
"5112 Ross St. Angel Investigations is on the first floor."
"Got it. A representative will be there tomorrow at four. Is there
anything else I can help you with?"
"No, that's it," Angel said. "Thanks."
"Thank you. Have a good evening."
"You, too."
Angel hung up, tore the top page of paper off the pad, stood and walked into
the outer office. Cordelia was just finishing up her twice-weekly
conversation with her daughter.
"All right, sweety. I'll see you on Saturday morning. Tell your father
I'll be there when Super Kids comes on, okay?" Cordelia listened, and a
large smile spread over her lips. "I love you, too, Jocelyn. Goodnight."
"How is she?" Angel asked after Cordelia had hung up.
"She's good. *Vanessa,*" the name dripped with venom as Cordelia said it,
"taught her how to count to ten on her fingers."
"Then, this weekend during your visitation, you teach her how to count using
her toes," Angel said. "Which way do you think she'll like counting more,
especially if you paint her toenails first?"
Cordelia sighed. "Yeah. That's an idea. Have I mentioned how much I love
you and how much I hate Vanessa and Matt?"
Angel chuckled. "As a matter of fact, just recently."
The vampire ventured further into the office and handed his secretary the
slip of paper. He gave her a small grin. "Guess what I did?"
"Decided to give me a raise?" Cordelia said.
"I gave you a raise when we moved," Angel perched on the edge of her desk.
"You make more than me now."
"Angel, you don't pay yourself, so that's not saying much," Cordelia told
him. She looked at the paper. "Okay, I'll bite, in the non-vampirey sense
of the word. What's Otherworld Technologies?"
"They create webpages, among other things," Angel replied.
Cordelia raised her perfectly sculpted brows. "And what does they have to
do with us?"
Angel sighed with exasperation. "I may be hiring them to make a website for
us. For Angel Investigations."
"Really?" Cordelia smiled, picked up a pencil, and wrote the appointment on
the calendar. "It's about time, old man. You're only, what, a decade
behind everyone else?"
"Ha ha," Angel said. "Just make sure that you and Wesley are here for the
presentation."
"Because you don't know a thing about webpages," Cordelia completed. Angel
glared at her. "Don't worry, Angel. We'll be here."
"Good."
Otherworld Technologies was located in a quaint neighborhood near the Sunset
Strip. The two- storey Victorian-style home had a shaded porch, with a
porch swing nestled into one corner. Both steps and a ramp led up to the
wide front door, and a small brass placard was situated above the doorbell
proclaiming the business' name.
Inside, the dark wood floor and pale ivory walls created a homey atmosphere.
The furnishings in the front hall were a mixture of antique and modern, and
a massive grandfather clock stood guard of those who worked and lived within
the home.
Muffled music could be heard coming down the staircase near the end of the
front hall. Beyond the staircase and slightly to the left was an open
doorway that led to the kitchen. To the left and the right of the front
door were identical closed doors.
The door to the right opened, and Willow Rosenberg walked out, her head bent
and her eyes focused on a large stack of printouts in her hands. She headed
for the kitchen, her orange gym shoes making no noise on the hardwood
floors. Without looking up, she went right to the refrigerator, took out an
apple, and bit into it.
"Hey, Will, just the redhead I was coming to see next."
Xander Harris's cheerful voice broke into Willow's concentration. She
looked over at her best friend and coworker, and smiled. "Hi, Xander.
What's up?"
"Presentation, tomorrow at four," Xander said. He caught the apple Willow
tossed to him and took a bite beside the small chunk already missing from
the fruit. "I wote it in yowr cawendawr."
"What type?" Willow asked, taking another apple from the refrigerator.
"Mowon," Xander swallowed, "The guy who called said he was renting a
domain."
Willow giggled. "I love newbies. They're so cute."
The shaggy-haired, thirty-year-old rolled his eyes. "Anyway, it's an
investigation agency."
"Occult?"
"'Kind of,'" Xander used his fingers to air quote, "They investigate
angels, and are looking to put up a business website."
"Got it." Willow bit into her apple and wiped her chin with the back of her
pink sleeve. "Do you have any new examples you want me to substitute for
the demonstration?"
"Yeah," Xander led the way out of the kitchen, through the front hall and to
the door on the left. "I want to sub the Corbett page for one I just
designed for Hicks."
Willow entered Xander's office and grinned when she saw a new full-color
printout tacked to the wall. A black and white cartoon dog, with his tongue
lolling out of his mouth, sat on the end of a double bed. The caption at
the top read: "When I woke up this morning and realized you weren't here,
things really looked dark and the whole world seemed stinking and rotten...
"Then the dog rolled off my face."
The floor in Xander's office was the only clutter free surface in the room.
The room had originally been the study, and a built-in bookshelf lined one
wall. The lower shelves were crammed with books of various thicknesses and
colors, with subjects ranging from web design, to art books, to occult
references.
The tops shelves and the hand-built two tier shelves that ran around most of
the room were piled with toys. Electronic games, robots, RC cars, legos,
koosh balls, obscene stuffed animals, obscene and non-obscene wind-ups,
Happy Meal accessories, anything that could be played with by a single
person lined the shelves.
Willow walked over to the single window and looked out. She absently noted
that the light on the lightpost at the end of their front walk needed to be
changed.
"Wills, can you hand me a CD?"
The redhead went over to the drafting table that doubled as Xander's desk.
A color 19-inch monitor took up most of the space on the surface. A
keyboard and mouse tray was attached underneath the table and slid out when
needed. A five-disk hard drive tower sat on the floor, with cords running
from its back to a zip drive, scanner, laser printer, fax and modem.
"Here," Willow said, handing Xander a CD she'd taken from a new box.
"Thanks." Xander put the CD in the disk-drive, his eyes never leaving the
monitor. Willow watched over his shoulder with a proud smile on her face as
he saved his new design to disk for her. She never would have thought that
Xander would become one of the best web designers in Southern California,
but she couldn't be happier that she'd been wrong.
Willow had started Otherworld Technologies soon after graduating from UC
Sunnydale. It had been difficult, at first, because of the mass influx of
computer-related companies. But once she'd specialized her company to the
occult-related, business had boomed.
In fact, business had become so well, she'd had to hire help. And out of
the four dozen applicants for the positions of web design and hardware
technician, she'd ended up employing two of the best surprises in the
field - Xander... and Spike.
"'Allo, pets," Spike greeted, entering Xander's office with his usual
swagger and smirk.
"Hey," Xander said, not stopping what he was doing.
"Hi, Spike." Willow turned to face the bleached-blond vampire. She frowned
when she saw a burn mark marring his cheek. "What happened now?"
"Nothing that the fire extinguisher couldn't fix," Spike replied flippantly.
He walked up behind Xander and began to massage the younger man's shoulders.
Willow leaned against the drafting table and whined, "Spi-ike."
"Wil-low," Spike drawled. He chuckled at her glare. "Don't worry, luv. I
was working on a new machine for Xander's exercises, not a customer's PC."
Xander looked up at Spike and scowled. "Who said I wanted a new machine?"
"I did," Spike replied.
Xander put his bikers-glove clad hands on the wheels and jammed his
wheelchair backwards into Spike. Spike quickly moved out of the way, as
Xander backed up, then wheeled towards the bedroom attached to the office.
"It's on the disk, Willow," the brunette said over his shoulder.
"Thanks." Willow's heart went out in sympathy at the flash of pain that
crossed Spike's face.
The vampire glanced at her, then went after Xander. "Xander, don't do
this..."
The door to the bedroom closed behind Spike. Willow sighed and chomped down
on her apple. She knew she wouldn't see her friends again until the
following night, unless she ran into Xander in the kitchen.
The two males had returned into her life unexpectedly. The last she'd seen
of either of them had been at Buffy's funeral, six months after college
graduation, until they'd shown up on her doorstep. That had been four years
ago, and now she didn't know how she ever managed to live in the house by
herself after Tara had left with Miss Kitty Fantastico.
Like Vikings, Xander and Spike invaded her home and her heart - and her
refrigerator - and she loved it. They were her family. And a single woman
at twenty-nine needed all the family she could get.
It wasn't as if Willow hadn't dated since her painful breakup with Tara.
Six years was a long time, and after her initial misery had worn away she'd
thrown herself back into the dating game. Men, women, human and non, she'd
dated them all. In fact, she felt as though she'd dated everyone in the
metropolitan area and halfway up the state.
Taking the CD, Willow returned to her office across the hall from Xander's.
Her office was once the living room of the home, and her favorite thing
about the room was a big bay window that faced the front of the house.
Painted in pale pink and decorated with fantasy artwork, her work area was
tidy, the books on her freestanding bookshelves in order by software
application, her computer desk only cluttered with her current project.
The computer she had was actually comprised of three hard drives hooked
together to increase the speed and memory. Her monitor was like Xander's,
although whereas his held images most of the time, her's held lines and
lines of code. A dot-matrix printer and a laser printer sat in their
assigned corrals. Her modem, fax and phone lines were tied neatly and
hidden behind several potted plants.
In the far corner of the room, next to the bay window, Willow had set up a
permanent spot for her Wiccan supplies. A large roll of paper leaned
against the wall, waiting to be spread over the floor to protect the dark
wood during her circle casting. A trunk held magickal supplies, and her
spellbooks had their own shelving unit.
Willow dug out the presentation disk and made the necessary changes as
requested. As the file saved, she continued to munch on her apple as she
returned her attention to the printout of code she was working on earlier.
The multi-lined phone on the back corner of her desk rang. Willow tossed
her apple core into the trash, wiped her hands on her jeans, and placed the
hands-free headset over her head. She pushed the button with the blinking
light and spoke into the thin wire-like receiver.
"Otherworld Technologies, Software, how may I help you?"
Willow grinned at the cardboard sign taped to the window that read: Angel
Investigations. She remembered those beginning days, when her office
consisted of a computer on a tv tray table and a garbage can for a printer
stand. After shifting the three straps on her shoulders - one for the
laptop, one for the overhead projector attachment, and one holding a small
projection screen - she took a quick breath, put on her "you really want to
give me money" smile, and opened the door.
A tall, well-built black man dressed in torn jeans, black t-shirt, and
sporting a bandana on his head, looked up from a newspaper spread across a
dented metal desk with a PC resting on one corner. He looked to be about
twenty-five, in Willow's estimation, but he didn't look like the type that
chased angels.
"Hey," he greeted. "Can I help you?"
"Um, yeah," Willow said, extending her hand. "I'm Willow with Otherworld
Technologies. I'm here to give a presentation and show you why Otherworld
is the company to hire for all your computer needs."
"Nice to meet you, Willow," he shook her hand, "I'm Gunn. And that's a
great speech you've got going there. If I thought that computers were
actually useful, I'd hire you."
Willow's brows furrowed slightly, but her professional smile never left her
face. "I see."
Gunn chuckled. "Come on. Everyone's in the back office."
Wondering if Xander'd heard wrong when he scheduled the appointment, Willow
followed Gunn through a door, down a short hallway past a restroom and a
storage room, and to an open door at the very end. She could hear animated
conversation coming from the room before she'd reached it, and she felt
butterflies take flight in her stomach. Even after five years, giving
presentations to potential clients still made her nervous.
"Yo, Big Pale Guy, the computer person is here," Gunn announced.
Willow squared her shoulders, checked her smile, and entered the room. "Hi,
I'm Willow and--" She saw a very familiar person stand on the opposite side
of the room and she blinked in shock. "-- and you're Angel!"
"Willow?" Angel's mouth parted in surprise.
"Oh my god, Willow!" Cordelia exclaimed. She stood, pushed past the
frozen-in-shock vampire, and rushed over to give the redhead a quick hug.
"I can't believe it's you!"
"Cordelia, hi," Willow said, snapping out of her surprise. She embraced the
other woman. "This is beyond weird."
"You're not kidding." Cordelia stepped back and looked Willow over from
head-to-toe. "I can see you still dress the same."
"Cordelia," Wesley chided as he joined them. He held out his hand to
Willow. "Ms. Rosenberg, it is a pleasure to see you again."
It's the weenie!, Willow thought unbelievably. She accepted Wesley's hand.
"You, too. I mean, it's nice to see you again."
"I take it you know her?" Gunn asked Angel with an amused smile.
"From Sunnydale," Angel said, still staring at the redhead. "Like Cordy and
Wes."
"Life's full of surprises, isn't it," Gunn commented. He clapped the
vampire on the shoulder. "I'm outta here. We're expecting a shipment at the
shelter and I want to get there before the locusts descend."
Angel nodded, and Gunn slipped out the side door, which led to the parking
garage. The dark- haired vampire took a step forward, stopped and continued
to stare at the redhead he hadn't seen in six years.
She's so beautiful, he thought, drinking in her lithe body clothed in a
long-sleeved light-blue tunic blouse and an ankle-length navy broom skirt.
Her red hair was chin length, parted on the side, and was as vibrant a color
as he remembered. The years had done nothing to her that he could see. She
still looked like a college student... who was currently staring right back
at him.
Angel felt his cheeks redden and cursed the fact that vampires could blush.
He wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his dark slacks, took another step
forward and held out his hand. "Hi, Willow. It's great to see you again."
Willow closed the distance between them and took Angel's hand. Tingles ran
up her arm when he closed his larger hand around hers. For some reason, her
heart was pounding in her chest as she looked up at the vampire she'd not
seen in years. "Angel, it's wonderful to see you, too."
Cordelia and Wesley exchanged amused looks as Willow and Angel continued to
stand there holding each other's hands. "So," Cordelia said loudly,
slapping her hand on her thigh.
Willow and Angel jumped apart as if burned. Willow blushed, ducked her
head, and toyed with the cases hanging over her shoulder. Angel cleared his
throat and looked everywhere but at Willow.
"How about that presentation?" Cordelia continued, returning to her seat.
Wesley took the chair beside her at the rectangular folding table set up in
the center of the room. Eight metal folding chairs were placed around it,
four on each side.
"Right. The presentation." Willow set her cases on the table and started
to unzip them.
"We don't need to see it," Angel said quickly, causing his coworkers to give
him confused looks. He gestured to the redhead. "It's Willow."
"And?" Cordelia prompted.
"What do you mean 'and'?" Angel frowned. "It's Willow."
Willow giggled. "Angel, that's sweet of you. But I'd feel better if you
based your decision on the quality of our work, not on favoritism."
Angel gave her a sheepish smile. "Sorry. You're right. Go ahead."
As Angel returned to his seat on the other side of Cordelia, Willow began
her speech while she set up her equipment. "Otherworld Technologies was
founded in March of 2004. Specializing in occult-related areas, the company
has done over a million dollars worth of work in both the personal and
professional arenas."
Willow inserted the demonstration CD into the laptop and pulled the correct
files up. "Otherword Technologies is open twenty-four hours a day, seven
days a week, year round, because computers always decide to cause problems
while Santa is trying to set them up at 3:30 in the morning, Christmas Day."
Cordelia and Wesley laughed, and Angel smiled. Willow clicked the mouse
icon, and with the remote in her hand she began the Powerpoint slide show.
"The company is divided into three divisions: Hardware, Software, and Web
Design. One technician operates each division, and each is one of the best
in their field," Willow said. It was the truth, Xander and Spike could run
rings around some MIT graduates. And she wasn't that bad, herself. "We
build and sell our own personalized PC's, but we can fix any problem a
store-bought PC presents, including computer possession, virus-causing
hexes, and email or chatroom magickal attacks."
"Do you get many telephone calls in regards to, er, possession?" Wesley
asked.
Willow nodded. "All the time. Most of them are panic calls because they
computer isn't doing what the person wants it to do, rather than real
possession. But we have had a few honest-to-goodness demon-possessed PCs we
had to perform exorcisms on."
"That's neat and all," Cordelia leaned forward and rested her elbows on the
table, "but how about telling us some important information, like do you
have any cute guys working with you?"
"Cordelia," Angel sighed.
Willow laughed. "Actually, yes, my website designer is right up your
alley, Cordelia."
"Really?" Cordelia perked up.
"Uh-huh," Willow nodded, "In fact, I know you two would create fireworks
together."
"Well, hook me up!" Cordelia said. "I haven't been on a real date in two
yea-- weeks."
"Boy, I don't know, Cordelia," Willow said, hiding her grin. "Xander hasn't
been in the dating game at least for four years now..."
"Xander?!"
Angel snorted and covered his lower face with his hand to hide his mirth.
Cordelia shot him a glare.
"If I recall correctly, there were many explosive battles between you and
Xander," Wesley commented.
"Stuff it," Cordelia told him.
"Uh, so, Xander is your designer?" Angel asked, pulling the conversation
back around to the real reason they had congregated.
"Yeah," Willow replied. "And he's really good, too." The redhead returned
to her presentation without hesitation. She pointed to the small screen
where a web page was displayed. "As you can see here, he's designed sites
that are very basic," she advanced the slide, "and he's designed sites that
pull out all the stops."
"Xander did *that*?" Cordelia said, staring at the screen in amazement. She
shook her dark head and slumped in her chair. "Someone please make note
that this is the worst day of my life."
"Why's that, Cord?" Angel said.
"Because I'm very impressed by something Xander Harris did."
"You should see some of the screen savers he's done," Willow said. She shot
Angel a grin. "He's got one where a certain Chosen One chases after
vampires with a stake. Only sometimes instead of staking the vampire, they
start making out."
"You're not serious," Angel groaned.
"Accompanied by bad seventies porno music," Willow added.
Angel dropped his head in his hands. "Perhaps I'd better rethink this
website thing."
"Don't worry, Xander is a professional," Willow told him as she shut off the
overhead projector. "He'll design a site specifically tailored to your
wants and needs, and that's it."
"How can we be sure?" Cordelia asked. "I mean, we're putting our future
money-making in Xander's hands. Do you know how wrong that sounds?" She
turned to Angel. "You know, maybe we should try print advertising. Or
stick to passing the business cards around."
"Why don't you come over for dinner and ask him yourself?" Willow suggested.
"Dinner?" Angel said, raising his head.
"Yeah," Willow warmed to the idea, "It'll be like a Sunnydale gang reunion."
Angel caught the excited light that shone in her eyes, and he found himself
smiling widely at her. "That sounds like a great idea."
"Really?" Willow bounced once on her toes. "That's great! How about
tomorrow night, say around seven?"
"I'll be there," Angel replied, meeting her pretty eyes squarely, his smile
seeming to widen even more. Her happiness at his accepting her invitation
seemed to radiate off her, and it made him want to throw his head back and
laugh in joy.
Cordelia cleared her throat loudly. Angel looked at her, then past her to
Wesley, who were both giving him expectant looks in return.
"Oh," Angel said. "Did you guys want to come, too?"
"Isn't that a chick flick?"
Willow found her two housemates in the kitchen when she returned home after
her meeting with Angel. Xander was sitting in his wheelchair at the kitchen
table, a folded-over newspaper in his gloved hands. Spike was at the stove,
dishing food onto two plates.
"Don't know, but it starts at eight," Xander replied to Spike. He glanced
over at the redhead as she walked into the room. "Hey, Wills."
"Guys, you are not going to believe this," Willow began.
"Us not believing something?" Spike said. The blond vampire moved to the
table, set one full plate down in front of Xander, and took his own seat.
Xander put the paper down and grabbed his fork.
Willow retrieved a plate from a cabinet and dished herself some Chow Mein
from the pan on the stove. "This time you won't," she said. "You know
that presentation I just got back from? Angel Investigations?"
"Let me guess, they have an angel on staff," Xander said. He glared at
Spike as the blond stole a carrot from his plate. "Hey, eat your own!"
"Much tastier if it's yours." Spike waggled his brows and popped the carrot
into his mouth. Xander rolled his eyes.
"No... well, yes, they have an Angel on staff," Willow went on, joining her
friends at the table. "But this Angel doesn't have wings. He has fangs."
Both men froze with their mouths half-open and their forks half-raised.
"You know, Angel," Willow said, misunderstanding their reactions. "The
vampire with a soul. It's his investigation agency."
Spike and Xander exchanged looks, a wealth of information passing between
them without a word being said. Xander stuck his fork in his mouth and
Spike used his to move the Chow Mein around on his plate.
"So, what's the old sod up to these days?" Spike asked.
"Um, well, Angel is a detective," Willow said around a fork-full of food in
her mouth. "A supernatural investigator."
Xander snorted.
"And get this: Cordelia works with him," Willow grinned, "and Wesley
Wyndham-Price."
Xander's gaze snapped to Willow. "Cordelia? Chase?"
Willow nodded. "She looks and acts the same, from what I could tell." She
frowned. "Although she and Angel seemed really close."
"Well what do you know, Spike, our ex's may be together," Xander said dryly.
"Makes me feel all tingly," Spike deadpanned.
"I could be wrong," Willow said. "They could just be good friends, like
us."
"Am I supposed to do a webpage for them?" Xander asked, an evil smile
appearing on his lips. Spike snickered, picked up his mug of blood and took
a sip.
Willow scowled. "I don't know. If we're hired, I expect you to treat the
job like any other. No funny business."
Xander smiled innocently. "Okay, I won't do anything."
Willow didn't believe a word he said. "Xander, I'm serious. I told them
that you were a professional and that they'd have a page designed by one of
the best."
"Did they believe you?"
"They will after dinner tomorrow night."
"Dinner?" Xander frowned. "I don't get it."
"I invited Angel, Cordelia and Wesley to come over for dinner tomorrow night
at 7:00," Willow told him.
Xander's fork clanked on his plate. "You did what?!"
"I in- invited them over," Willow repeated, startled by his outburst.
"Great, Willow. Just super," Xander pushed back from the table, "Only count
me out."
"But...," Willow trailed off as Xander wheeled out of the kitchen.
"And who do you think is going to make this dinner, Willow?"
Spike's voice was low and flat, and it also surprised the redhead. "I was,
um, hoping you would," she said.
"I only cook for one person - Xander."
Willow gestured to the plate in front of her. "You cook for me, too."
"No, I don't," Spike stated. "I cook for Xander, you just help yourself to
his food."
Willow stared at him in shock. "But--"
The scraping of Spike's chair against the linoleum interrupted her. "Now,
because of you, I'm going to have to sit through a soddin' chick flick."
Spike stalked out of the kitchen, leaving a confused redhead at the table.
The vampire crossed the front hall, went through Xander's toy-cluttered
office, and entered the bedroom.
The bedroom was once the dining room of the Victorian home. Converted after
Xander's accident, the large room, which at one time seated twelve
comfortably, was windowless and carpetless. A queen-sized bed with
oak-slatted headboard was pushed almost flat against one wall and was, as
usual, unmade. A two-drawer, oak night-stand was beside the bed and a
small trash can sat next to it.
Two doorless closets had been built on either side of the bedroom door.
Black clothing filled the closet across from the bed's footboard, and the
other was filled with clothes in all the shades of a rainbow. A large black
trunk sat on the floor at the end of the bed, padlocked shut.
The entire left side of the room was taken up by a conglomeration of
nautilus equipment. Pulley weights and press weights made up one of the
exercise machines. Beside it was a motorized exercise bicycle with
shoe-locks on the peddles. The final piece of equipment, a stepper, looked
like a Stairmaster crossed with a leg press.
Xander had levered himself from his wheelchair onto the padded bench of the
nautilus machine, and he was angrily doing bench presses. Sweat already
coated his brow and stained his t-shirt wet. His biceps bulged with each
press of the heavy weight, and he hissed in a sharp exhale with every one.
Spike closed the bedroom door and leaned against it with his arms crossed
over his chest. "You shouldn't do that so soon after eating, pet."
"I'm not in the mood, Spike," Xander ground out, pushing up on the handled
bar.
"We don't have to stay, you know," Spike said. "The witch can fend for
herself."
"If we're not there, she's going to be unhappy," Xander said. "And when
Willow's unhappy--"
"--Spells get cast and I'm a bloody girl again," Spike finished.
Xander stopped, raised his head and raked his gaze over the blond vampire.
A smirk tugged at his lips. "Then again..."
Spike was across the bedroom and straddling Xander in an instant. The
vampire's hands covered the brunette's on the weight machine's handles, and
he leaned forward and said, "What was that, luv?"
Xander's chocolate eyes twinkled. "You looked damn good in that little
black dress, too," he said, then shoved the handles - and, subsequently,
Spike - upwards.
"Keep it up, Harris," Spike warned.
"But you're heavy," Xander whined, his arms shaking slightly from the
exertion. "What have you been eating, elephant's blood?"
"Cute."
Xander let the weights fall with a clang, and Spike was abruptly
nose-to-nose with him. The younger man grinned. "I know I am."
Spike snorted in derision, dropped a quick kiss on Xander's lips and climbed
off of him. The blond walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge.
Xander sat up, ran a hand through his damp hair, and sighed. "This is gonna
suck."
"It's only dinner," Spike said. "They come, we feed them, they go away
again."
"So now you're all for this?"
"You know me better than that."
Xander tugged at a thread on his ancient grey sweatpants and watched as the
stitching slowly came apart. "I hate pity."
"Then get better clothes," Spike said.
A smile pulled at Xander's mouth. "You sound just like Cordy used to."
"Again with the chit comparison. Are you trying to tell me something?"
Spike asked with a lift of his brow.
"Nah, I like your manly parts." Xander shot Spike a mischievous look. "But
in that little black dress..."
Spike lobbed a pillow at him. "Bugger off."
"Come over here and I will," Xander said with a flash of a grin, throwing
the pillow back.
"Cheeky bastard." Spike caught the pillow and put it back in place.
"Firmest around," Xander slapped his hips, "I've got a Grade A thirty-year
old butt. Of course, my best *ass*et--"
Spike groaned.
"--is always hidden because I'm stuck in this frickin' chair," Xander
finished, giving the wheelchair sitting beside the exercise machine an
hateful look.
"Good. I don't want anyone looking at that delectable arse but me," Spike
stated as he rose and moved to the closet.
"Delectable? Was that the word on Sesame Street today?"
Spike took a bright orange shirt off a hanger, made a face at it, then
tossed it to Xander. "Shut your gob and go wash up. I want to get to this
picture on time for once."
Xander put the shirt over his shoulder, pulled his chair closer to the bench
and levered himself into it. Using both hands, he lifted first one leg and
then the other so his feet were resting on the footpads. He accepted a pair
of khakis that was handed to him and dropped them in his lap.
"Give me five minutes," Xander instructed as he wheeled himself out of the
bedroom through the door Spike had opened for him.
"Take ten. You reek."
Xander flicked the vampire off, and the blond's laugh followed him all the
way into the hall. The rubber wheels made no sound on the hardwood floor as
he pushed himself to the bathroom set under the stairs. He was about to
wheel through the door into the remodeled bathroom when he abruptly changed
course.
Willow was still sitting at the kitchen table with her back to him and a
slump in her posture. "You said seven, right?" Xander said.
Willow turned quickly in her chair, a hopeful expression on her face.
"Yeah, but you don't have to come. I should have asked first. I just
thought you'd want to see them, too. I'm sor--"
Xander held up his hand, halting her apology. "Don't worry about it.
We'll be here."
"Really?" Willow perked up, then immediately slumped again. "Will Spike
cook dinner?"
"I think I can persuade him," Xander replied dryly. He shook his head at
Willow's small cheer and rolled back to the bathroom.
Once inside the modified-for-Xander bathroom, with the door firmly closed
behind him, he stared at himself in the low level mirror. He removed his
gloves then his sweaty shirt, and he felt a brief flare of pride at the
sight of his muscular torso. His arms were bulky from having to walk using
his hands instead of his feet.
It took longer to remove his battered shoes, socks, and sweats. When his
eyes caught his reflection again, the pride he'd felt fizzled into abject
misery. Despite hours spent on the motorized exercise bike and stepper, his
legs looked like twigs. Pale, useless twigs.
Xander turned his eyes away from the mirror in anger and disgust. Boy, he
couldn't wait to see Cordelia and Angel again.
"Do you want me to get out the level for you?"
Willow looked up at Xander's voice. "What?"
Xander gestured towards the kitchen table. "A level, so those forks you
keep fixing will be perfectly straight."
Willow glanced down at the silverware under her fingers, started to
straighten it a little, then snatched her hand away. She gave her oldest
friend a sheepish smile. "You got me."
"Xander, come here and taste this," Spike said over his shoulder. The
vampire, dressed in his customary black jeans and t-shirt, was standing in
front of the stove, stirring a pot.
As Xander rolled over to Spike, Willow took a final study of the
plate-settings. She was certainly glad their kitchen table was made for
six, although, with Xander's chair, the leg room under one end of table
would be tight. She'd have to make sure she took the seat to Xander's left.
Spike always sat to Xander's right.
Willow looked at the clock on the microwave and felt butterflies take flight
in her stomach. Their guests would arrive any minute.
*Ding-dong.*
Or right now, she thought, nervously tugging on the hem of her pale green
sweater as she went to answer the door. She looked around the front hallway
she'd spent hours cleaning earlier that morning, took a fortifying breath,
and opened the door. "Hi!"
Cordelia and Wesley stood on her front porch, with Angel standing behind
them. "You're front light's out," Cordelia announced.
Angel sighed. "Cordelia."
"We're out of lightbulbs," Willow said with a grin. Same old Cordelia, she
thought. "Come in, please. I think dinner's almost ready. I hope everyone
likes salmon."
"Here," Angel said as he entered the house behind his friends. He handed
Willow a chilled bottle of wine. "To go with dinner."
"You didn't have to do that," Willow said. Angel gave her a small smile and
she felt the butterflies lift off again.
"This is a marvelous home, Ms. Rosenberg," Wesley commented.
"Willow, Wesley. Call me Willow," Willow told the bespectacled man.
"Willow," Wesley acquiesced.
"So, where's Xander?" Cordelia asked as she set her purse on the hall table.
"Right here."
Xander sat in the entry of the kitchen, his wheelchair taking up the entire
doorway. His black "dress up" glove-clad hands rested on the worn rubber
wheels. Dressed somberly, for once, in dark brown slacks and matching
button-down shirt, he smiled tightly at them and said, "Food's on."
"Thanks, Xander," Willow said in the stunned and uncomfortable silence. He
nodded once, backed the chair up and disappeared into the kitchen.
Willow looked from Wesley to Cordelia to Angel, frowning as they stared at
the now-empty kitchen entryway. "Follow me. We no longer have a dining
room, so we're eating in the kitchen. I hope that's okay."
Angel cleared his throat and forced the shocked expression from his
features. "Of course it is. If we were having dinner at my place, we'd be
eating in a basement on unpacked boxes."
Willow felt her lips curve at his awkward attempt at humor. "It's okay,
Angel," she told him. She turned to Cordelia and Wesley. "Xander was in a
car accident a couple years ago that left him paralyzed."
"How dreadful," Wesley said.
"Is he- is he all right?" Cordelia asked.
"Except for that whole not walking thing," Willow shrugged, "he has his good
days and his bad, just like everyone else." She started for the kitchen.
"Come on, let's eat. Spike's salmon is my favorite."
"Spike's salmon?" Angel asked as he followed Willow, with Cordelia and
Wesley following behind him. "Is that a type of smoked salmon?"
"I don't know," Willow replied. "My cooking skills are centered around the
freezer and the microwave." She entered the kitchen and spoke to the blond
vampire setting plates of food on the table. "Spike, is the salmon smoked?"
"With my very own fags," Spike said. He looked past Willow and a sardonic
smile appeared on his face. "'Allo, pops. Long time no see."
Angel came to an abrupt halt, causing Cordelia to bump into him. "Did I
miss the stoplight or something?" she said, giving him a small shove before
walking around him. She stopped when she saw Spike and arched her
sculptured brow. "Willow, why is there a vampire in your kitchen?"
"She invited Angel to dinner, that's why," Xander answered from his spot at
the head of the table.
"I meant Spike, lamebrain," Cordelia said with a scowl.
"Spike's a vampire!" Xander gasped and looked to Spike with huge eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Spike smirked. "Didn't want to spoil the mood."
"And here I thought there was a rattlesnake loose in the house."
Willow handed Spike the wine. "You'll have to excuse them," she said to her
guests. "They don't get out much."
"Hey! We went out just last night and didn't see that movie. Isn't that
right, Spike?" Xander said.
"One of the best sappy pictures I haven't watched in a while," Spike replied
with a wink.
Angel, Cordelia and Wesley, who was standing partially behind Angel ready to
fight, continued to stare at Spike as the blond put the wine on the counter
and opened a drawer. Xander rolled his eyes and gestured to the other
chairs. "Sit down, will you? I'm starting to feel like a midget."
"Yes, sit," Willow echoed as she moved beside Xander. "We're all friends--"
Spike snorted as he uncorked the wine.
"--and there's no need to stand on ceremony," the redhead finished, ignoring
Spike.
The three guests looked tentative as they chose seats. Cordelia was about
to sit on the other side of Xander when Spike appeared next to her and
whispered in a threatening manner, "That's my seat. Find another."
Cordelia tensed, but replied caustically, "Geez, rude much?", as she moved
to the seat at the end of the table, opposite Xander.
"Willow, why is Spike here?" Angel finally outright asked.
"Why wouldn't he be here?" Willow said in confusion. Then, it dawned on
her. "Oh! I didn't tell you that Spike would be joining us, too. Sorry. I
just didn't think about it because he's always here... which makes sense,
since he lives here...," her hands fluttered in Spike and Xander's general
direction, "...and where one of them is, the other usually isn't that far
away..."
Spike and Xander both wore identical expressions of amusement as they
listened to Willow. Spike walked to the table, poured some wine into
Xander's glass and his own, set the bottle down, and took his seat.
"Anyway," Willow continued. "Spike works for Otherworld Tech, too, and
since this is a sort-of business meeting, it's logical that you meet all the
employees... Oh cool, this means I can take this dinner off of my taxes!"
Angel still looked concerned. Spike sighed exaggeratedly and yanked out the
chair to his right. "Will you just sit down, pillock. I can't bite them,
and I'm not gonna bite you. You'd leave a horrid aftertaste in my mouth."
The dark-haired vampire warily took the proffered seat. Wesley had taken
the chair beside Willow and was cautiously examining the food on his plate.
Xander decided to get the conversation rolling before Willow became unhappy.
An unhappy Willow had a tendency to cause his dinner to jump up and do the
hustle. "So, Wills tells us you guys are super-dooper detectives. Have you
solved any mysteries involving a wife's ex- husband's brother cheating on
his wife with his wife's ex-husband's sister?"
"Xander, you really need to stop watching the telly," Spike told him.
"Actually, I think we did solve one of those," Wesley said. "Although the
brother was a rather grumpy Bartyian demon and the woman he was cheating
with resembled a Pekinese." He took a bite of his salmon. "Oh my, this is
tasty. There's a bit of a zing to it."
"That's the picayune pepper. I learned that from Emeril. The secret's to
add it to the lemon glaze while it's still whole and let the heat from the
stove pull the juices out of it," Spike said, gesturing with a speared piece
of salmon on his fork as he spoke.
"Who watches too much tv?" Xander teased. Spike made a face at him.
"Wait a second, *you* made this?" Cordelia said to Spike.
"Of course," Spike replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the
world for a vampire to cook.
"He even wore his 'Fuck the Chef' apron...," Xander grinned salaciously,
"...and nothing else."
"Xander, language," Willow scolded.
"Sorry, mom." Xander dodged her swat and winked at her.
Willow shook her head and looked at Angel. "Angel, why don't you tell us
what it is you do--"
"Besides ponce about like a foofed-up nancyboy," Spike completed for her.
Willow glared at him. He returned her glare with an innocent smile.
"What?"
"Aside from 'poncing about,'" Angel began, shooting a dirty look at the
blond vampire, as well. "Mainly--"
"'We help the helpless,'" Cordelia chimed in. "That's our motto. I came up
with it."
"Who could be more helpless than you three?" Spike said.
Xander suddenly grabbed Spike's wrist and squeezed. "X-nay on the pissing
off the witch-ay," he warned, noting the angry glint in Willow's eyes. "I
have plans that involve you and all your pieces-parts."
Spike nodded once and Xander released him. The thirty-year old gave
Cordelia an apologizing smile. "That's a great motto, Cordelia. I like how
you made it species-unspecified," he told her.
"I did?" Cordelia quickly recovered. "I mean: yes, I did. Since we don't
just help humans, I thought it would be appropriate."
The conversation picked up from there, centering around Angel Investigations
and leading into suggestions from Xander about a webpage design. Although
Angel kept a wary eye on the now oddly quiet blond vampire seated beside
him, he joined in the conversation with stories and anecdotes about some of
the cases he'd worked on.
Eventually, the discussion turned into a game of "Do you remember...?" The
bottle of wine was empty and the plates were picked clean. The tapers
Willow had set in the center of the table had burned a quarter of the way
down.
Spike leaned over to Xander and whispered, "I'm going to heave on all this
soddin' togetherness if I don't get out of here soon."
"Go ahead," Xander told him. "I think you've suffered long enough."
"You sure?" Spike studied the brunette intently.
For a rude vampire, Spike certainly was sweet at times, Xander thought, a
happy smile curving his lips. He knew Spike was concerned about leaving
Xander's somewhat new and unimproved self without support. It made him feel
all gooshy inside.
"Yeah. Get lost," Xander told Spike.
"I'll be upstairs if you need me," Spike said, then stood and addressed the
others. "Well, I can't say what I think about this little stroll down
memory lane without Willow turning me into a bloody chicken or something
equally as fowl..."
Spike then strolled out of the kitchen to the accompaniment of groans and
"boos!"
Angel barely waited until Cordelia and Wesley had followed Xander out of the
kitchen before asking Willow the question that'd been plaguing him all
through dinner. "Willow, are you out of your mind?"
"What?"
The dark-haired vampire picked up two plates and joined her at the sink.
"You invited Spike over for dinner!" he exclaimed incredulously.
"Not really," Willow said, frowning at him in confusion. "I only asked if
he could make dinner."
"But for him to make dinner, he had to be *invited over*," Angel persisted.
"Angel, Spike lives here," Willow said as she returned to the table to
continue clearing the dishes.
"He what?!"
Willow turned and gave Angel a questioning look. "I thought I already
explained that."
"Explain it again, please," Angel said. "I must've missed the logic portion
the first time around."
"Wow," Willow said in amazement. "You sound exactly like Cordelia. Or, at
least, the Cordelia I remember."
Angel had the grace to color slightly. "Sorry."
Willow smiled. "No need. I think it's cute."
Then *she* blushed wildly and busied herself with the dishes.
Angel felt his lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile, and he moved to
help her. "Why don't we start this thread of conversation again?"
"Okay," Willow agreed.
"So, Willow, why Spike is living under this roof and making dinner for
people he obviously can't stand?" Angel asked.
"Well, about four years ago, Spike and Xander showed up on my doorstep with
a big, black trunk and 'persuaded' me to let them crash here for a few
nights," Willow began. She turned on the tap in the sink and raised her
voice in order to be heard over the running water. "I hadn't seen either of
them since Buffy's funeral and, after Xander passed the 'I'm-not-a-vampire'
test and Spike proved that chip in his brain was still active, I let them in
and they've been here ever since."
"Spike still has the chip?" Angel was surprised.
"Yep," Willow said. "Next Wednesday is his tenth anniversary with it. He's
been stocking up on alcohol and plans to celebrate so hard, he won't be
sober for a full month *after* he stops drinking. Of course, he might blow
himself up first because he's storing the liquor in his office, even though
I told him it was a bad idea, but Spike's Spike and he does whatever he
wants."
"He wanted to make dinner for us?" Angel asked skeptically, as he handed her
more of the dinner dishes.
"No, but Xander convinced him to do it anyway." Willow held up her wet
hand, a joking smile on her lips. "Don't ask me how, because I don't know,
and I want to keep my illusions that Xander is pure and innocent."
"Spike and Xander are together? Like a couple?"
"I would hope so, they've been sharing a bed the whole time they've been
here," Willow said, her eyes twinkling in amusement.
"Oo-kay," Angel dragged the word out disbelievingly.
"What about you?" Willow asked as she shut off the water and began stacking
the plates in the dishwasher.
"Huh?" Oh, very eloquent, Angel, the vampire thought derisively.
"Do you have someone who's been sharing your bed?" The second the words
were out of her mouth, Willow couldn't believe she'd said them.
"Is that the Willow-way of asking me if I have a significant other?" Angel
said, one corner of his mouth quirking.
"That's the Willow-way of embarrassing herself," she told him, her face
flaming and her eyes focused on the dishes.
Angel chuckled. "No."
Willow frowned. "No?"
"No, I'm not seeing anyone... yet."
Angel's eyes widened, then he quicky headed to the kitchen table to retrieve
the remainder of the dishes. Real smooth, slick, he thought. Could I
sound any more smarmy?
"Me, neither," Willow admitted, glancing over her shoulder at him. She
quietly added, "Yet."
Angel almost dropped the wine glasses in his hands. He looked over at her,
and when he met her shy gaze the floor dropped out from under his feet.
Willow looked away first and made a big production out of putting the
silverware in the dishwasher. Her heart was pounding in her chest and the
butterflies from earlier returned with a vengeance.
She couldn't believe she was flirting with Angel. She couldn't believe he
was flirting back. She couldn't believe how sexy he looked in his
creme-colored sweater and grey slacks!
"Here." Angel's soft voice came from behind her. Willow straightened and
turned to him, but didn't look him in the eye. He held out the used wine
glasses to her. She reached out to take them, and when her hands brushed
his tingly tendrils snaked up her arms.
"Willow?"
"Um, yeah?"
Angel licked his lips and focused on a point on the wall across the room.
"Would you, uh, like to go out with me tomorrow night? On a, um, date?"
"I'd love to," Willow breathed. Almost instantly, she swore. "Damn, I
can't."
Angel had felt his excitement rise and plummet in less than a second, as if
he was riding a carousel horse. "Why?" he asked, hoping he didn't sound as
disappointed as he felt.
"It's company policy that employees can't date clients," Willow said, a
forlorn note in her voice.
"Then I quit," Angel said immediately, startling both her and himself.
"Quit?"
Angel ran with the thought, uncaring that he was making himself out to be
ten times the fool. "As of right now, I no longer work for Angel
Investigations. If you have business with the agency, talk to the partners
who run it, Cordelia Chase or Wesley Wyndham-Price. I'm just an unemployed
schmuck asking a beautiful woman on a date."
Schmuck? Oh god, he was seriously floundering here. It was only Willow,
looking scrumptious in a pale green sweater and long, black skirt. And her
hair was falling just so over her face, making his hand itch to brush it
back for her.
Willow giggled. "Angel, you can't quit."
"Why not?"
"Because I do," Willow replied. "Quit, that is. Otherworld Technologies
now has a vacancy in its Software department. Know anyone interested in the
job?"
Angel threw his head back and laughed. Willow joined in, and soon the two
of them were practically rolling on the floor.
When they finally calmed, Willow's eyes were sparkling and, to Angel, they
resembled green starbursts. A sappy comparison, but true.
The dark-haired vampire dropped his chin and reigned in his scattered
thoughts. He tried to limit the number of times he made a fool of himself
per day, and he was already past his quota. After taking a short,
purposeful breath, he suggested, "What if neither of us quit and we go on
that date anyway?"
"Be rebels? Buck the system? Stick it to the man?" Willow grinned. "I can
do that."
"Then, it's a date."
"It's a date."
They stood there with beaming smiles on their faces until the beep of the
intercom made them jump apart.
"Willow, tell Xander to turn the soddin' intercom on in his office," Spike's
voice ordered from the speaker on the wall.
Willow rolled her eyes and walked over to the white intercom. She pressed
the talk button and said, "Walk your butt down here and tell him yourself."
Colorful cursing about redheads and their parentage filled the kitchen and
Angel chuckled. "I'll tell Xander," the vampire told her.
"Thanks," Willow said. "Spike's liable to be a real pain if he has to come
down." Her brows furrowed slightly. "Although, that's not very different
than how he normally acts."
Armed with the tiniest toolkit he'd ever seen, Angel climbed the stairs to
the second floor of Willow's small Victorian home. According to Xander,
Spike's office was the first door on the left.
The first door on the right was Willow's bedroom.
Ignoring his conscience, Angel stopped in the open doorway on the right.
Willow's bedroom was soft, feminine, and a bit quirky - just like Willow
herself. The walls were painted a very pale peach and the carpeting was a
light blue. A light oak mirrored dresser and a chest of drawers matched the
light oak head and footboards of Willow's queen-sized bed. Stuffed
unicorns, dragons and other mystical creatures, as well as thick candles of
all colors and scents, were scattered around the room.
Angel started to take a step forward but pulled up short. He doubted Willow
would appreciate him invading her bedroom.. Especially not with the illicit
images flitting through his brain.
Quickly, the dark-haired vampire turned on his heel and cross the hallway to
the closed door with the small sign that read: "Otherworld Technologies
Hardware."
Angel knocked once and opened the door. "Spike?"
"It's you. How lovely," Spike's dry tone floated to him from somewhere.
Angel entered the office and looked around curiously. Gutted computers,
electronic equipment, and other hardware littered the two-room office that
took up the entire left half of the second floor. There were winding paths
between the large piles of disassembled machines and scraps. A hefty stash
of multicolored bottles of liquor were stacked in one corner of the room.
A motorized car zipped along the grey carpeting of one of the paths and
stopped at Angel's toes. "Halt! Who goes there?" a tinny, robotic voice
demanded.
One of Angel's dark brows raised as he looked down at the small car.
"Cute."
"'Cute' does not have permission to be here," the robotic voice announced.
Then, the car shocked him right through his boots.
"Ow!" Angel exclaimed, jumping backwards.
Spike's laugh filled the office before the blond vampire came into view,
wearing a pair of dark goggles around his neck. "Car, retreat," he said.
The car spun around and sped away from Angel. Angel warily watched it until
it disappeared completely. "Where'd you get that car?" he asked.
"Made it," Spike said offhandedly as he pulled a pair of protective gloves
off his hands. "What brings you up here, poofter?"
"I volunteered," Angel replied, suppressing his surprise at Spike's answer
about the car. He held out the small toolkit. "Is this what you wanted?"
"Stupid boy," Spike sighed loudly and crossed to Angel. "I would've come
down and gotten them."
"Xander didn't want you to have to," Angel told him. "Besides, I wanted to
talk to you anyway."
Spike snorted. "Figures."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"The great white poncey knight rides to the rescue," Spike said scornfully
as he took the toolkit from Angel. "Well, guess what, peaches, no one needs
rescuin' here."
Spike turned and walked away. Miffed, Angel followed. "I'm not trying to
rescue anyone."
"Right," Spike scoffed, dropping the toolkit and his gloves on a cluttered
workbench. "You didn't come up here to play Daddy to Xander and Willow."
"Believe me, I'm *not* having fatherly thoughts about Willow," Angel said
under his breath. Louder, he said, "I'm only curious and, okay, a little
'white knightish' about why you're here. I know you, Spike--"
"No, you don't," Spike interrupted firmly. "You don't know a bloody thing
about me."
"I beg to differ," Angel said with a pointed look.
"Beg all you want, tosser, but it still doesn't change the fact that you
don't know jack." Spike leaned back against the workbench and folded his
arms over his chest. "The bloke you ran with over a century ago doesn't
exist anymore. Time, Drusilla, *you*, and this chip in my brain have seen
to that."
"That doesn't explain why you work for Willow or why you're in some sort of
relationship with Xander," Angel said.
"I'm in love with Xander."
The blunt simplicity of the statement surprised Angel. "You're in love with
Xander?"
"Is there an echo in here?" Spike said sarcastically. He straightened,
picked up his gloves and walked over to an obscure creation of welded metal.
Angel followed the blond with his eyes. How the hell could Spike love
Xander Harris of all people? Xander was... Xander. He was unable to keep
the disgust out of his voice when he asked, "Why?"
Spike shot a glare at Angel as he put on his gloves. "Because he's Xander."
"I just can't...," Angel shook his head, "Xander and you. Together.
Lovers. That seems wrong."
"Then it's been wrong for six fucking wonderful years," Spike said.
Angel still couldn't believe it. Six years? "How in the world did you two
get together?"
A small, purely happy smile spread across Spike's lips. "He rammed me with
his motor."
"He ran you over with his car?" Angel repeated.
"Yeah." Spike's eyes took on a faraway look. "And then he yelled at me for
making him hit me."
"Let me see if I understand. Six years ago, Xander hit you with his car,
yelled at you because he hit you with his car, and you fell in love with
him," Angel said.
"You forgot the part where he threw my carcass in his boot and left me in
there for days," Spike added, his smile growing dopier.
"No, can't forget that." Angel wondered if Spike caught Drusilla's
insanity, and hoped that he wouldn't go nuts, too.
Spike shook of his memories, grabbed a piece of soldered metal and checked
its hold. "Don't worry your foofy head, Angel. Xander -- and because of
him, Willow - are safe from me, even if this chip wasn't working anymore."
Now *that* Angel didn't believe. "Oh really? And why's that?"
"Are you blind, mate?" Spike stared at Angel. "Xander's in an effin'
wheelchair. There's no way in me goin' to heaven that I'd subject him to an
eternity of that."
The blond turned away and began tugging on the soldered metal again.
"Xander's going to be a wrinkly old sod before he dies. And, then, he can
only die in our bed with my arms around him."
"You're nothing but a romantic sap, did you know that?" Angel mocked.
"Bite me," Spike said.
"And catch whatever it is you have? No thanks."
Spike snarled at him, but said nothing. Angel studied the structure that
Spike was tugging on. "By the way," he said. "What the heck is that?"
"A new exercise machine for Xander," Spike replied. "Which I was in the
middle of building before you interrupted me."
Angel chose to take the hint. "I'll get out of your way then."
"Good."
The dark-haired vampire started to leave, stopped and looked back at his
childe. "Xander Harris?"
Spike grinned. "Buffy 'The Slayer' Summers?"
Angel smiled back. "Touche."
The younger vampire's chuckle followed Angel as he left the office. Pulling
the door shut behind him, Angel stared at the open bedroom doorway across
from him. He told himself he wasn't going to go in there, even as his feet
traversed the distance between Spike's office and Willow's bedroom.
Once in the middle of the bedroom, Angel's feet ignored his brain and slowly
turned him in a circle. In his first perusal, he'd missed the stencil of
five silver-blue dolphins jumping invisible waves on Willow's wall. A
collection of thimble-sized candle-holders sat on small shelving unit made
especially for them.
Angel moved over to the chest of drawers where several framed photographs
sat on top. He recognized one that Cordelia also had which had been taken
during their junior year in high school. In a stacked frame, a photo of
Buffy, Willow and Xander was under one of a very young Willow, Xander and a
boy he didn't recognize. There was a picture of Tara and a black and white
cat sitting in the back of the grouping, along with a photo of whom Angel
assumed were Willow's parents.
Front and foremost were two pictures that looked to be the most recent. One
was a five-by-seven of Xander and Spike, both shirtless, streaked with mud,
and wearing matching devilish grins. Xander's arm was over Spike's shoulder
and Angel could see Spike's fingers curled around the surprisingly
well-built Xander's bare side. Happiness practically radiated from the
photograph.
The second picture sent a frisson of want through Angel. Willow was
standing in shorts and a t- shirt at the top of the steps in front of her
home, holding the gold placard he'd seen on the siding by the doorbell. The
sunshine lighting her and the angle of the photo indicated that Xander must
have taken it after his accident.
And, because of the angle, Willow's toned and lightly tanned legs went on
and on and on...
With a soft swear, Angel turned and walked stiffly out of the bedroom,
feeling all the world like a randy teenager who'd had his first glimpse at
an adult magazine.
"What about this one?"
Xander looked over at the redhead standing outside of her small walk-in
closet and made a face. "It looks like something I puked up last time I was
sick."
"Um, okay," Willow looked down at her print blouse, "I guess I won't be
wearing this one."
As Willow went back into her closet, Xander leaned forward on her bed and
snagged a pink shirt with cats dancing on it. He held it up and shook his
head. "Why are you worried about what to wear, anyway? It's only - excuse
me while I gag - Angel."
"It's only a *date* with Angel," Willow's muffled voice floated to him.
"So?"
Willow straightened a creme-colored peasant's blouse as she exited the
closet. "Do you know how hard it is to get a date when you're an almost
thirty-year-old woman?"
"I'm gonna have to say a big no to that one," Xander replied with a lopsided
grin. "Spike wears the skirts in our relationship."
Willow giggled. "Oh, I can so picture that."
"He's got the legs for it," Xander's face suddenly darkened, "whereas I have
the legs for nothing."
"Xander," Willow said his name with concern.
Xander shifted on her bed, having been carried upstairs by Spike so he could
help his oldest and dearest friend get ready for her date. He forced a
smile. "Don't mind the cripple. Let's concentrate on you and your horrid
taste in clothes."
"Look who's talking," Willow countered, allowing him to change the subject.
"I'm surprised Spike hasn't burned some of your stuff."
"Oh, but he has," Xander said, gesturing for her to change again. "I caught
him roasting marshmallows over a bonfire of my threads when we were in New
Mexico. I even got ticketed for having an illegal fire, even though he's
the ass who torched my stuff."
"New Mexico, huh?" The peasant's blouse landed on the floor outside of the
closet. "That must've been during your 'Merry Adventures with the Undead
Tour' before you ended up on my doorstep."
"Correctomundo." Xander looked out the window Willow had opened once Spike
had left the bedroom. Dusk was already upon them, and the California sky
was a hazy dark purple color. It was such a vast contrast from the pure
blue of the New Mexican sky from his memories. "I told him that I loved him
for the first time that same week."
"Before or after his pyrotechnics?" Willow asked curiously, exiting the
closet again. She pulled on the hem of a faded purple, fringed, silk cowboy
shirt, sighed when Xander shook his head negatively, and went to try again.
"After," Xander replied. "Which means I really had it bad, because he
burned everything but what I was wearing and a light blue tank that he said
I looked sexy in."
"I wish I could find something that I looked sexy in right now," she
grumbled.
"I'd come over there and pick something for you, but the only rug burns I
tolerate are ones I get from Spike--"
"Virgin ears! Virgin ears!" Willow held her hands over her ears as she
stepped back into the bedroom. "Don't sully me with your dirty talk."
Xander chuckled. "Okay. I won't discuss the size of Spike's--"
"Xander!"
"What?" Xander smiled innocently.
Willow sighed and shook her head. "You're impossible."
"I'm also illogical, unbelievable and hopeless," Xander added. He looked
her over from head to toe. "And you look like a hooker."
The redhead made a sound of distress and looked down at her outfit. "I do
not."
"Wills, trust me, that's not a first date dress," Xander told her. "That's
a 'we've-been-out- several-times-and-now-I-want-you-to-boink-me-blind'
dress." He frowned. "Unless you're hoping that Angel wants to screw you
silly tonight."
Willow blushed furiously and fled back into the closet. The little red
dress landed at Xander's feet with an embarrassed, "Get Spike to burn that!"
"Hey, Willow," Xander began as he stretched forward and snared the clingy
dress. "You do realize that Angel still has that whole curse thing going
for him."
"Uh-huh."
"I mean, I know this is just a single date, and your first one at that, but
we all remember what happened last time Angel got lucky," Xander said.
"Xander, I'm not going to sleep with Angel tonight," Willow commented from
the closet. "And I'm not going to worry about what may happen down the
road. This may be my one and only date with him, and I just want to enjoy
the company of a handsome, enigmatic man."
"I'm handsome and automatic," Xander said.
"Enigmatic," she corrected. "And yes, you are. But you're also in a
long-term relationship with someone who loves you completely. I, on the
other hand, am seriously lacking in the companionship department."
"Still, Angel?" Xander ventured.
"I like Angel," Willow said as she stepped back into the room. "I always
have in a 'he's my best friend's not-boyfriend so he's off limits' kind of
way. But Buffy's been gone for awhile now, and I don't think she'd mind if
I went on a date with him." She gestured to her clothes. "What about
this?"
"Pure Willow," Xander replied sincerely. "Caring and carefree all at the
same time."
Willow beamed. "Xander Harris, if you weren't spoken for, I'd snatch you up
just like that," she said with a snap of her fingers.
"Nah, I wouldn't want you to have to deal with the Wheeled Wonder," Xander
said with a self- depreciating smile. "I don't want to subject anyone to
pitiful ol' me."
"Why do you do that?" Willow asked as she walked over and sat on the edge of
the bed. She tucked one of her legs under her, and studied him.
Xander was about to respond flippantly, but changed his mind. He looked out
the open window into the darkening night and answered with quiet honesty,
"If I put myself down first, it doesn't hurt as much when others do it."
Willow reached out and put her hand on Xander's leg. "I wish you wouldn't.
You're a wonderful person, Xander."
The brunette looked back at her, saw where her hand was, and laughed
mirthlessly. "If you say so, Will."
Willow frowned at him. "I--"
"Don't you have a date to finish getting ready for?" Xander interrupted. He
made a shooing motion. "Go do whatever it is women do in the bathroom. I
want to see the finished beauty before Angel gets here."
"Okay," Willow squeezed his leg and rose, "but we'll have this conversation
again, soon."
Xander nodded and kept the fake smile on his face until she left the
bedroom. Once she was gone, he slumped back against the headboard. He
looked at his leg where her hand had been and snorted in disgust. He hadn't
even felt her hand resting there.
"All right, Incapacitated Boy, stop feeling sorry for yourself," Xander said
out loud, returning his gaze to the window. "You may not be able to walk,
but you get laid regularly. How many other thirty-year-old men can say
that?"
"Only ones who have a vampire lover, pet," Spike answered as he entered
Willow's bedroom.
Xander gave Spike a tender smile. "Hey you. I thought you were going to
stay holed up in your office until I buzzed."
"It's funny," Spike said as he put his hands flat against the headboard on
either side of Xander's head. "I suddenly had this unbelievable need for
Xander kisses."
"Are those anything like Hershey's Kisses?" Xander teased, his dark eyes
lighting up with delight.
"Huh-uh," Spike leaned closer to Xander, "Xander kisses are much nummier."
Xander's small laugh was swallowed by Spike's mouth pressing intimately to
his. The brunette sighed contentedly and relaxed under the gentle assault.
Spike's firm lips brushed back and forth over his, sending the familiar
tendrils of longing to the area below his waist that worked quite fine.
He raised his hands and slid them along his lover's t-shirt-clad sides.
Spike's lean body never failed to turn him on. He groaned softly when the
blond's tongue slipped between his lips to lightly tangle with his own. His
heartbeat picked up in pace when he heard Spike's quiet growl of yearning.
Xander squeezed Spike's sides, and Spike broke the kiss. Questioning blue
eyes met desirous brown. The need to be touched and touch in return filled
Xander, and he whispered a bit hoarsely, "Let's go downstairs."
Spike's mouth curved into a loving smile. Without a word, he straightened,
scooped Xander up in his arms, and headed out of Willow's bedroom.
"Okay, Xander, what's the verdict?" Willow asked as she entered her room a
few minutes later.
An empty spot on the bed was her response.
Willow huffed, walked over to the mirror above her dresser, and examined
herself critically. "Well, Wills," she spoke to her reflection in as deep
of a voice as she could fake, "I don't have an opinion anymore. I'm busy
basking in my Spikey-lovin' while you waste away in spinsterhood misery.
Maybe you should have worn the hooker dress after all. Have a last hurrah
before you start adopting cats."
The doorbell chimed, and Willow jumped. Her cheeks began to flame and her
palms immediately felt damp as her wide green eyes met her reflection. "I
have to go now. My - eep! - date's here."
Her reflection gave her a terrified look. Willow swallowed back her
nervousness, grabbed her purse off the dresser, and hurried to answer the
door.
Edible. That's how Willow would describe Angel dressed in a pale grey
button-down shirt, dark grey jacket and dark grey chinos -- simply edible.
She couldn't stop staring at him, and the butterflies were back and doing
the rhumba because of how attractive he looked.
Angel seemed to be devouring her with his eyes, as well. Her ankle-length
dark blue shift, with scooped neck and tied at the waist, must've been a
good choice from the way he kept looking at her. Willow felt as though her
cheeks had developed a permanent blush because of Angel's appreciative gaze.
Angel had brought her to The Cosy Cafe, a small bistro on the Strip that
catered to the middle class crowd. She'd been to the cafe a few times since
it opened, and really liked their zesty chicken. It was very... zesty.
Angel had ordered a meal for himself, too, although he mostly pushed it
around his plate. Willow noticed, but refrained from commenting. She knew
that vampires didn't need to eat people food, and most normal vampires
didn't like it at all. Spike was an exception. Then again, Spike wasn't
normal.
"I don't think you would've liked Beth," Angel said as he set his fork down.
They were filling each other in on the past six years, including their
significant others or lack thereof, as they ate. They had touched briefly
on Angel's curse, and on how he'd learned to get around it and still have a
relationship with someone.
"Really? Why?" Willow asked.
"She was very blunt and had a low tolerance level for other people. I don't
even think she really liked me," Angel replied. He gave her a joking
half-smile. "She just wanted me for my body."
"I can understand that," Willow said without thinking. Her eyes went round
when Angel chuckled. "Oh my goodness, I can't believe I said that out
loud."
"Well, even so, it's appreciated," Angel told her, his smile growing.
"I'm just going to eat my zesty chicken now." Willow dropped her chin and
speared her food with vehemence.
Angel chuckled again. Willow glanced at him through her lashes as he sipped
his coffee. His hands were cupped around the mug, and she couldn't help but
notice how large they were. Very manly. She wondered if they would
entirely cover her breasts, then blushed furiously at the direction her
thoughts had taken her. She cleared her throat and ventured back into
conversation.
"So, uh...," Willow wracked her brain for a safe non-naked topic, "...What's
your favorite movie?"
"'It's A Wonderful Life,'" Angel replied. "For obvious reasons; it's about
second chances. You?"
"It used to be 'Some Kind of Wonderful,'" Willow said. "One of the heroines
in that was in love with her best friend, and he didn't have a clue." She
grinned. "Sound familiar?"
Angel chuckled. "A bit."
"Now, though, it's 'The Matrix.'" Willow gestured emphatically with her
fork. "I know it came out almost a decade ago, but that movie was so cool,
and it made you think, too."
"I've seen it," Angel told her. She looked surprised, so he explained.
"When Cordelia was pregnant with Jocelyn, she was confined to her bed for
the last few months. Wesley, Gunn and I used to sit and watch movies with
her while Matthew was 'out.'"
The way he sneered when he said Matthew's name gave Willow the hint that
Cordelia's ex was lower than dirt. She felt empathetic towards the other
woman. The redhead could remember, quite easily, the number of slimeballs
she'd dated over the years.
"Tell me more about your business," Angel said, changing the subject. "Do
you like being your own boss?"
"Yes, I do," Willow said. "It's hard to force myself to get to work
sometimes, though. There are days I just want to stay in bed."
Angel had no trouble conjuring up Willow in bed, her red hair mussed, the
white sheet pooling around her waist and baring her unclothed body to him.
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "That, uh, happens to me
sometimes, too."
"Although recently, I've been pretty busy," Willow said. "I was hired to
debug a new word processing program and it's a complete mess. I've only
gotten a quarter of it done, and I've had the job for two months now."
"Do you have a deadline?" Angel asked.
Willow nodded. "December 15. The company wants to put it out before
Christmas."
"I'm surprised you're not more worried," Angel said.
"I won't start panicking until December first rolls around," she told him.
"If I still don't have it done by then, buy a hundred shares of Taster's
Choice Chocolate Mocha because their stock will be going way up."
"For me, it's Flint's Polish." Angel set down his mug, a sheepish expression
crossing his face. "When things get down to the wire, I tend to polish
things. Swords, knives, revolvers, kitchen silverware..."
Willow giggled. "Well, next time crunch time comes around for you, come
over to my house. I have a silver serving set that could use a cleaning."
"You're on." Angel leaned forward and, with his finger, lifted the small
pendant of a willow tree that was around her neck. "And I'll polish this,
too."
The redhead felt her heart pounding in her chest and her skin tingled where
Angel's finger touched her bare skin. "Um, okay," she breathed.
Angel rubbed his thumb over the silver, but his eyes were focused on Willow.
The space between them crackled with attraction. Angel lightly pulled on
the chain, rising from his seat to lean further over the table at the same
time. He felt the whisper of Willow's warm breath against his lips before
he pressed his mouth over hers.
Trilling filled the air, like a bird's song. Angel's lips brushed back and
forth over Willow's, enjoying the softness of her mouth under his. The
delicate scent of her perfume invaded his senses, reminding him of
springtime after a light rain; fresh and flowery. The bird trilled again,
as if it were singing its song for them.
"Phone," Willow whispered into the kiss.
"Hmm?" Angel hummed against her mouth.
"Phone," she repeated throatily.
Angel reluctantly pulled away and opened his eyes. Her softly swollen,
moist lips were the first thing he saw, and he immediately wanted to kiss
her again. Then he heard the trilling and what Willow'd said sunk into his
muddied brain -- his cell phone was ringing.
With a silent groan of disappointment, he released her necklace and sat back
down in his seat. He pulled his cell phone from the inside pocket of his
jacket, opened it, and practically growled, "What?"
Willow pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to calm the fluttering
inside. She licked her slightly tingling lips and rubbed them together.
Angel had kissed her!
"I'll take care of it," Angel said into the phone before he disconnected.
He gave Willow an apologetic look as he tucked the cell back into his
pocket. "I have to go. Cordelia had a vision and--"
"You don't have to explain," Willow interrupted. "I understand."
Angel stood, rounded the table, captured her chin and placed a quick kiss on
her mouth. "I'll call you," he murmured.
"'K," Willow said, and then Angel was gone.
The redhead sighed and cupped her chin in her palm, staring at the space
Angel had occupied. Most times when men said they'd call her, it was a
polite brush off. With Angel, she knew he was telling the truth - he would
call her.
Willow sighed again. She couldn't wait--
"Here you go, ma'am," the young waiter said as he laid a closed bill folder
on the table. "I'll take it whenever you're ready."
--because Angel owed her a dinner!
*****
Spike was sitting on the top step of the porch, clad only in threadbare
jeans and smoking a cigarette, when Willow came up the front walk. The
blond vampire gave her a quizzical look. "Where's the poof?"
"Cordelia had a vision, so he had to go," Willow replied.
Spike's snort explained what he thought of that. Willow climbed the steps,
pulled her dress in, and sat down beside him. "How's Xander?"
"Well-fucked."
"I meant emotionally, silly," she said with a roll of her eyes. "He seems a
bit down lately."
Spike took a long drag off his cigarette before answering. "It's time for
his checkup again."
"Oh," Willow said with understanding. She knew from experience that the
doctor was going to tell Xander the same thing he always did: no change.
"When is it?"
"Thursday." Spike crushed the end of his cigarette on the porch. "I'm
going to need you to take him."
"Of course."
Spike didn't thank her, but she hadn't expected him to. He fiddled with the
cigarette butt for a few moments, and Willow sat peacefully beside him,
listening to the crickets and the muted sounds of traffic.
"Willow," Spike began quietly. "Do you think he still wants me around?"
"Why wouldn't he?" Willow responded, surprised by the question.
"Because I was once paralyzed like him and I healed," Spike flicked the
cigarette but away, "and he never will."
"Spike, Xander loves you," Willow said softly.
"That doesn't mean he doesn't resent me."
"He doesn't," Willow reassured him.
Spike started to play with a thread on his jeans, twining and untwining it
around his finger. Willow waited, knowing there was more. It wasn't often
that the blond vampire confided in her, so she was more than willing to sit
patiently until he went on.
"I dogged Xander for months, you know, before we got together," he began,
twisting the thread between his thumb and forefinger. "At first, it was
just a bloody game. 'Let's see how long it takes to get into Xander's
shorts.' For weeks and weeks I did my damndest to seduce him, and he
rebuffed me every time," he mimed a panicked Xander, "'No, get away, you
undead queer. My man parts only like woman parts.' His protests only made
the challenge sweeter."
Spike raised his head and looked off in the distance. "Then, one night, he
plowed into me with his motor. I thought the little bastard did it on
purpose, especially since he climbed out of the motor and immediately
started screaming at me. 'Are you blind or something? Didn't you learn to
look both ways before crossing the street? Or did you think the headlights
meant you should jump in front of my car?'" he mimicked.
"I was still lying in the street when he stomped over to me, ranting like a
loon the entire time. Then, he suddenly stopped and stared down at me.
'Spike?' he says, and that's when I realize he hadn't known it was me." An
affectionate smile spread across Spike's face. "Xander had been spoutin'
off even though I could've been some human he'd hit."
Willow was surprised. That didn't sound like Xander behavior, she thought.
Then again, she sometimes yelled through her closed window at accident
scenes, for causing a bad traffic jam, so who was she to judge.
"I thought for sure he was going to start screeching again," Spike went on.
"But he didn't. Instead, he picked me up, opened the boot and tossed me
inside like I was nothing but a bloody sack of potatoes."
Spike shook his head, the smile still playing on his lips. "He left me in
there for three days. I couldn't believe the knackers on the boy. I was
all set to rip him a new one when he finally opened the boot again, pain or
no pain. But he shot that plan to hell when he opened the boot and said:
'One date. Three hours. No touching.'" The blond laughed.
"That cheeky plonk runs me over with his motor, yells at me, throws me in
his boot for three days, and then, without so much as an apology or even an
embarrassed look, he tells me we're going on a date!" Spike released a small
sigh. "Right then and there, I fell head-over-effin'-heels in love with
him. Four or so months after that he told me he loved me back, and my
unlife hasn't been the same since."
Willow smiled. "In an odd way, that's a very romantic story."
Spike made a sound of derision. "Pathetic is how I'd describe it."
"I don't think so," Willow countered.
"Yeah, but you chose to go on a date with my wanker of a sire," Spike said.
She frowned. "What's does that have to do with anything?"
"Pathetic never recognizes pathetic."
Willow lightly smacked him on the arm as he laughed. "Oh, you...
frag-a-raga," she grumbled, good-naturedly.
Spike fell silent after a few more chuckles. He looked off into the
distance again, a worried frown creasing his brow. When he finally spoke,
there was a pained note to his whisper. "Pathetic or not, I don't want to
lose him, Willow."
"Talk to him, Spike," Willow told him. "I know it's not what men normally
do, but it may help allay your fears."
"I'm not afraid of anything," Spike said abruptly. He rose with his usual
leonine grace and went into the house, closing the door behind him with a
small slam.
Willow sighed loudly and shook her head. Men! She would never understand
them. The only thing they were good for was opening stubborn jars and sex.
An image of her lying on the kitchen table, with Angel moving against her
while opening jar after jar appeared in her mind. Blushing wildly, Willow
quickly stood and rushed into the house. Some thoughts were simply to
indecent to be having on her front porch.
"Sorry about that," Willow apologized after clicking back to Angel when
she'd concluded her call on the other line.
"No problem," Angel said over the phone. "I didn't mind waiting."
Willow could hear the unspoken "for you" and the smile in Angel's voice, and
it made her heart flutter. She was beginning to really like that feeling,
just as she was beginning to really like the brunette vampire in a serious
way.
They had spoken on the phone for several hours every day since their first
date, and had seen each other almost every day as well. They'd gone to
dinner, the movies, a cabaret, and on a carriage ride that had culminated in
kisses that had left Willow breathless.
Willow had no reservations in accepting date after date with Angel, despite
her looming deadline and other work. She was the boss; she could play hooky
if she wanted. A piece of mental duct tape was slapped over her guilty
consciousness' mouth, and she ignored the ribbing she got from her two
employees.
Normally, Spike would have barged into her bedroom by now, or Xander would
have buzzed her on the intercom, with some asinine question simply because
she was on the phone with Angel. She easily put up with their antics
because she was floating on Cloud Nine most of the time, even though their
actions were more than a bet annoying.
Today, however, Xander was keeping an eye on an exceedingly plastered blond
vampire. Spike had began celebrating his tenth anniversary with the chip in
his head precisely at midnight. By three in the afternoon he'd consumed half
of his liquor stash. Willow had hid in her office for most of the day,
until a very drunk Spike had stumbled downstairs in search of his "Xandy."
Then, she'd wisely taken refuge in her bedroom, leaving Xander to take care
of his boyfriend.
Spike's drunkenness was actually sort-of a good thing, in Willow's opinion.
Xander was focused on making sure the bleached blond didn't do something
stupid, like venturing outside during the day, which meant that her oldest
and dearest friend wasn't focused on his paralysis. Depression had settled
heavily over Xander after his last doctor's appointment, and Willow hoped
that babysitting Spike would pull Xander out of it.
Willow glanced at the time as she fixed the pillows propped against her
headboard. It was 8:15 p.m. She'd been on the phone with Angel for over
two hours now. Shame on her.
"So, let's see, where were we?" Willow picked up a folded-over magazine from
the bed beside her and pulled a pen from behind her ear. She and Angel had
been taking a compatibility quiz when she'd received another call on her
private line. "What's your favorite color?"
"Sky blue," Angel answered without hesitation.
"I thought, for sure, you were going to say black," Willow said with a grin.
"Can you picture me wearing sky blue?"
"Good point." Willow giggled. "Okay, my favorite color is soft pink." She
wrote in her answer and moved onto the next question. "Favorite tv show?"
"'Name that Hedgehog,'" Angel replied.
"Oh my goddess, really?!" Willow said. "That's mine, too! Did you see the
episode where the hedgehogs played the Partridge Family?"
"Of course," Angel said. "Gunn's daughter, Ronnie, and I watch it every
Saturday morning, religiously."
Angel had told Willow about his Saturday morning babysitting job for Gunn
and his wife, Tanisha, while the couple worked breakfast at the shelter they
ran. The idea of Angel in a rocking chair with a little girl sitting on his
lap, rocking as they watched television, made Willow feel gooshy inside.
"Xander and I watch it every Saturday, too," she told him. "Though I'm
usually just getting up, and he's planning on going to bed after the show."
"Spike doesn't watch?" Angel asked curiously.
"No," Willow said. "The only thing he watches is soccer when some English
team is playing. And I can hear him screaming at the television all the way
outside. Xander thinks it's amusing."
"And you don't," he surmised.
"It's very... loud." Willow sighed. "I have the strangest roommates."
"You're just realizing this now?" Angel said dryly.
"Okay, so I'm really a blond," Willow responded. "You caught me
*red*-handed."
Angel groaned. "That was so bad, Willow."
Willow tittered, then cleared her throat. "Quiz now," she crinkled the
magazine in order for Angel to hear it over the phone, "there's ten more
questions awaiting our answers."
"Shoot."
"Um... number eleven," Willow read. "Name a type of clothing."
"Dungarees," Angel replied almost immediately.
Willow's sculpted brow went up. "That was a quick answer."
Angel coughed and mumbled, "I'm looking through a J Crew catalog."
A broad smile crossed Willow's lips. Just when she thought she knew Angel,
he threw her a curve ball. She would never have figured the vampire for a
catalog peruser, especially a clothing one.
"I guess it's better than a Victoria's Secret catalog," Willow said.
Angel coughed again, loudly.
Willow burst into giggles. Somewhat-broody, ensouled vampire or not, Angel
was all male.
"Oh yeah, I'm not embarrassed," Angel muttered.
Willow was about to respond when she heard a strange fizzing noise. She
cocked her head and frowned. "Do you hear that?" she said into the
receiver.
"Hear what?" Angel asked.
"That odd noise," Willow replied as she rose from her bed and headed for the
bedroom door. "It almost sounds like--"
An explosion ripped through the house.
*****
The line went dead.
Angel looked at the telephone receiver then put it back to his ear.
"Willow?"
No response. He tried clicking the button on the phone base. "Hello?
Willow, are you there?" he said with growing worry.
A dial tone sounded in his ear. He quickly dialed the redhead's phone
number. After a few seconds of silence, three notes of high-pitched chimes
came over the receiver, followed by an automated voice recording.
"The number you have dialed five... five... five... eight... one... three...
five... is out of service. Five... five... five..."
Angel disconnected and re-dialed. When he heard the chimes again, he
disconnected and tried the number for Otherworld Technologies.
"The number you have dialed--"
The vampire swallowed back the panic, disconnected and tried again.
"The number--"
Angel was out the door and down the stairs of his apartment building before
he realized he'd forgotten his car keys. Swearing emphatically, he flew
back up to retrieve them, trying not to dwell on what the dead line meant.
Dead line.
Dead.
"Oh god." The panic bubbled inside of Angel, like acid burning in the
center of his chest. When he got to his car, he jammed the car key into the
ignition, revved the engine once, and peeled out of the parking garage.
"Please be okay," Angel whispered in prayer, his knuckles white from his
grip on the steering wheel. He didn't know what he'd do if he arrived at
Willow's and found her...
He couldn't finish the thought. Willow was fine. The phone company was to
blame for the bad connection. He didn't hear the beginning of a loud *boom*
a moment before the line went dead. It was the phone company. It was the
phone company. It was the phone company.
Oh god, what if he'd lost her?
Angel took a corner at full speed, his tires squealing in protest. He had
to get to Willow's; he had to see if she was okay.
He had to tell her that he was falling in love with her.
Blares of car horns echoed as Angel cut across three lanes of traffic. The
light coming up was red. He flicked on his left turn signal, gripped the
wheel even tighter, and blew through it.
The tires on the right side of the car almost left the ground as he took the
left turn. More car horns and tire squeals as other drivers hit the brakes.
He didn't hear any crashes behind him, and he threw up a quick thank you to
the heavens.
Angel reached Willow's Victorian ten of the longest minutes later, and he
was out of the car barely before he'd even put it in park. Bright orange
cones and sawhorses blocked the area around her house, and the red and
yellow lights of the firetrucks matched the flames pouring from the open
hole where Willow's office window had been.
"WILLOW!" Angel shouted, running towards the burning home. A yellow-clad
fireman stepped in his path, and he barely restrained himself from violently
shoving the man aside.
"Sir, you need to keep back," the firefighter told him.
"I need..." Angel's panicked gaze roamed over the house. The fire scorched
the second floor of the Victorian, and he could see thick smoke pouring from
the roofline where the siding met the roof. Pouring from Willow's bedroom.
Angel's heart got caught in his throat. "Willow..."
"Sir," the firefighter insisted, gently pushing Angel back.
Angel managed to focus on the firefighter. He cleared his throat and asked,
"Did you get her out?"
The firefighter's stern face softened. "An ambulance left for Mercy General
a few minutes ago."
"Thanks." Angel spared a single horrified glance back at the burning home
before running back to his car.
The drive to Mercy General was as harrowing as the trip to Willow's house.
Angel screeched into the visitor's parking lot, grabbed the first parking
spot he saw, and ran to the worn-looking building.
The Emergency doors swooshed open, admitting the frightened vampire. He
went right to the nurses window and hammered on the shatterproof glass to
get someone's attention. A pink-clad woman frowned heavily at him as she
came up to the window. "Sir--"
"There was a fire. Willow Rosenberg," Angel interrupted, his dark eyes
pleading. "Is she here? Is she okay?"
The nurse, who's badge identified her as Judy Ranwick, picked up a clipboard
and scanned it. Angel nervously tapped his fingers on the window ledge.
"Rosenberg, Willow," Nurse Ranwick read. "Yes, she's been admitted, along
with a Harris, Alexander."
Xander. Angel had completely forgotten about him. And Spike. Oh no,
Spike... "Was there a third person?"
Nurse Ranwick shook her head. "Just the two."
Angel pushed back the unease he felt. "Are they okay? Is Willow okay?"
"Are you family?" the nurse asked in return.
"Yes," Angel replied without hesitation. He knew better than to say no in
situations like this. "I'm Xander's brother and Willow's boyfriend."
Nurse Ranwick nodded. "I'll tell the--"
"Angel?"
Angel spun around and saw Xander wheeling towards him. He rushed over to
the other man. "Xander, what happened?"
Xander had a wan complexion and reeked of smoke. Pain filled his brown eyes
as he looked up at Angel. "I wasn't watching him like I was supposed to be
doing," he said in a rough voice. "There was an explosion..."
The younger man wrapped his arms around himself and blinked rapidly against
the tears that filled his eyes. "Willow pushed me outside and told me to
call 9-1-1, before she went back inside for him. The whole side of the
house was in flames," his voice hitched, "and I couldn't do anything."
"Is Willow..." Again, Angel couldn't finish.
Xander took a deep breath and wiped away the tears. "Willow's okay," he
told Angel. "Her arms are a little burned and she inhaled a lot of smoke,
but other than that she's fine. We rode here together in the ambulance."
Relief swept through Angel. He purposely inhaled and breathed out slowly.
Willow was all right. Xander looked shaken, but was all right, too. No one
was hurt in the- "Xander, where's Spike?"
Tears once again filled Xander's eyes.
The view was blurry and an ugly in yellow color highlighted by
brownish-green blobs. The first thought that came to mind was that the
Higher Powers' decorator should've been shot.
"'Bout time," a gruff voice said.
Spike blinked several times and the world came into focus. The ugly yellow
and brownish-green was a ceiling. He turned his head and saw Xander sitting
in his wheelchair beside the really lumpy bed.
Correction, he saw a very pissed off Xander sitting beside the bed.
"Xan?" Spike's mouth felt like it was filled with cottonballs.
Xander picked up a mug with a straw in it from the chipped night-stand
beside the bed. He switched it between his hands, then assisted Spike in
raising his head and instructed with a clipped, "Drink."
The blood was warm and tasted wonderful. Spike gratefully sucked the red
liquid through the straw, washing away the disgusting taste in his mouth.
Xander set the mug aside when Spike was finished. His brown eyes were hard
when he looked back at the vampire, and he fisted his gloved-hands in his
lap. "Do you mind telling me what in the hell you thought you were doing?"
Spike flinched at the brutally harsh tone in Xander's voice. He wasn't sure
what the brunette wanted to know. His eyes searched his lover's face for
some clue as to why Xander was angry, but all he saw was a cold mask.
"Er..."
It came back to Spike in flashes. A collection of empty of Knob Creek
bottles. Xander in his wheelchair. Willow's trunk of witchy stuff. An
open book. A smelly concoction. A loud fizzing sound. An explosion.
Slamming into Willow's computer monitor head-first. Pain.
"Well?" Xander demanded.
Spike turned his head away, and Xander had to strain to hear his reply. "I
wanted you to walk again, so you won't leave me."
Xander was stunned. He leaned forward, grabbed Spike's chin, and forced the
blond look at him. "You what?"
Spike suddenly got angry and jerked away. "I don't want you to leave me,
all right!" he exclaimed, sitting up quickly. He tried to get up, but the
blankets were preventing him. He struggled against them, muttering swears
and causing them to further tangle. "Damn it!"
And then Xander had the vampire in his lap, blankets and all. Xander's face
was inches from Spike's, staring intently into startled blue eyes. "Who
said I was going to leave you?" the brunette asked.
"No one," Spike replied sullenly. "But you're going to because you resent
me for being able to walk."
Xander's opened his mouth to reply and shut it again without a word coming
out. Instead, he snared the back of the blond's hair and kissed Spike for
all he was worth.
The motel room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing was and the soft
rasps of lips moving against one another. A tiny whimper pierced the quiet
a short time later, followed by repetitive squeaks of the brakes against the
rubber wheels of the wheelchair. Eventually, two deep moans twined together
like lovers embracing, unknowing of where one began and the other ended.
For once, Spike was glad he was on the small side as he cuddled on Xander's
lap, the blanket drawn up over both of them. He gently brushed his mouth
over the slowing pulse-point on Xander's neck, enjoying the salty taste of
his lover's sweaty skin. Xander's non-gloved hand lightly rubbed back and
forth over Spike's hair-sprinkled thigh; his other hand curved around
Spike's bare waist, holding the vampire on his lap.
"I love you," Xander whispered in the honeyed silence of the motel room. He
tightened his hold on Spike. "You're my 'til death do us part...'"
Xander didn't say, "and the death part almost happened," but Spike heard it
loud and clear. He raised his head and met Xander's eyes. He could see the
fear he'd caused reflected in the soft brown orbs, and he said softly, "I'm
sorry."
Xander nodded, indicating it was okay. Spike closed the distance between
them and pressed a loving kiss to Xander's lips.
A knock on the door interrupted any furthering of the kiss, and the vampire
broke away with a small snarl of annoyance. Xander chuckled, adjusted the
blanket over them, and shouted, "If it's Willow or Angel, come in!"
The door opened and Willow started to enter the room, followed by Angel.
"It's just us. We wanted--" she spotted the two males, "--eep! Sorry!"
She quickly turned around and tried to push Angel back to the door. "We'll
go away. We didn't know you two were... eep!"
Spike sniggered and moved to stand, but Xander prevented him with a glare.
"You've seen me less covered than this, Wills," the brunette said. "And
Spike's got nothing to write home about."
It was Spike's turn to glare. "Get bent."
"Too late," Xander retorted, causing Spike's lips to twitch as the blond
tried to suppress his smile.
"We'll still go," Willow said, looking everywhere but at the two in the
wheelchair. "I'm glad to see... No! Not see, cause I'm not looking. Nope,
no peepage here..."
Angel's soft laugh covered her babbling, and he carefully took her bandaged
hand. "I think what Willow's trying to say is that we're glad you've
finally woke up, Spike."
"How long was I, er, out?" Spike asked.
"Eight days," Xander replied with a slight catch in his voice. "Eight very
long days."
Silence pressed upon the four as each thought of what had happened. Spike
pulled his hand from beneath the blanket and gently brushed Xander's cheek
with his fingers. Xander gave him a tremulous smile in return.
Angel looked down at Willow, his thumb rubbing lightly against the side of
her hand. Willow met his gaze and felt her heart jump at the wealth of
emotions she saw. The butterflies in her stomach reminded her that they
were still there, despite the ordeal she'd been through.
"Oh, hey," Willow said, breaking eye-contact with Angel before they ended up
kissing in front of her friends like a couple of teenagers. "We came in
here for a reason. Didn't we, Angel?"
"Yeah," Angel replied. "We most certainly did."
"Love you," Spike whispered to Xander, who practically lit up at the words.
Then, to Willow, "What is it?"
"The insurance money on the house came today," Willow said. She pulled a
check out of her pocket, started for Xander and Spike, stopped abruptly and
turned her back to them. "Uh, Angel, why don't you show this to the naked
men in the wheelchair."
With a chuckle, Angel took the check from her and brought it over to the
couple. Spike was first to react after a short, stunned silence.
"Oi! How much bloody damage did my spell cause?"
"Enough for us to get a new fully-equipped office, to buy me a condo on the
beach, and to get you two a house of your own," Willow said, her back still
to the men.
"You mean, you don't want to live with us anymore?" Xander said, effecting a
pout.
"Of course not!" Willow exclaimed, turning around. She blushed, but stayed
facing them. "I love living with you guys... when you're clothed... but I
thought, you know, you'd like a place of your own. Besides," she sent Angel
a shy smile, "maybe I want some space, too."
"Xander, don't argue with Ms. Money-Knickers," Spike admonished. "If she
wants to buy us our own love-shack, bollocks for her."
"Good. It's settled then," Willow said with an affirmative nod. "And now,
Angel and I are leaving before my face is permanently red."
They left to Xander and Spike's laughter, which settled into broad smiles
after the motel room door was closed.
"Our own place," Xander said with joyful amazement.
"Our own place," Spike echoed happily. "Just like a married couple of
queers."
Xander chuckled. "I can see the mailbox now: Mr. and Mr. Harris."
"How come I have to be the bleedin' wife of this twosome?" Spike grumbled,
hiding the fact that he liked the idea of taking Xander's last name as his
own.
Xander's eyes danced as he slid his hand up Spike's bare thigh. "You looked
better in the Little Black Dress."
A week after Xander and Spike had moved into their new house, Spike had
entered Willow's office at Otherworld Technologies' new location and thrust
a Tupperware container filled with food at her. "I still only cook for
Xander," he mumbled before he stalked out of her office. Everyday after
that, when she arrived at work in the morning another Tupperware container
was on her desk.
Willow opened her refrigerator and peered inside, searching for another
soda. She pushed aside a stack of Tupperware containers, reached over the
top of a smaller stack of them, and snagged the lone root beer hiding in the
back. She shut the door and jotted down "soda" on the shopping list pinned
to the front of refrigerator.
A small party was in full swing in the living room of her condo. Spike was
by the low-playing stereo with Gunn and Wesley, deep in conversation about a
Dicto'nth demon Angel Investigations was researching. Cordelia, Tanisha,
and Wesley's girlfriend, Jody, congregated by the snack table and were
nibbling on the hors d'ouvers Willow had set out as they chatted about their
children.
Willow rejoined Angel on the couch just as Xander was finishing another
story about his travels with Spike. Since the spell accident, the recently
committed Harris's were rarely apart. The affection that they'd shown
before seemed to have increased tenfold. It was very sweet to see,
especially since their relationship had started simply because Xander had
finally gotten annoyed enough to say yes to Spike so the blond vampire would
stop bothering him.
Angel pressed a kiss to Willow's forehead as she settled on the couch beside
him. They'd been dating exclusively since the fire and were falling more
and more in love with each passing day. And as their relationship grew
stronger, smartly, their caution grew as well. Neither one of them wanted a
surprise appearance from Angelus.
She sometimes had to pinch herself to make sure she was awake, though.
Angel was a dream boyfriend -- courteous, smart, caring, had a good sense
of humor, and he was sexy, too. She realized that if it wasn't for Angel's
technophobia and her company's magic with computers, she might never have
reunited with her old friends from Sunnydale, let alone date one of them.
"What did I miss?" Willow asked, snuggling into Angel's partial embrace.
"Georgia," Angel replied.
"Crashed a convention, terrorized some live-action role-players, made fun of
the sci-fi fans," Xander summed up. He took a pull on his beer and glanced
over at Spike. The blond vampire caught his gaze and smiled.
A warm, toasty feeling stole over Xander. He gestured towards the door with
his chin and Spike, not breaking his conversation with Gunn and Wesley,
pressed his palms together in a mockery of a prayer. Xander chuckled,
finished off his beer, and set the empty bottle on the end-table beside the
couch.
"Looks like Spike's reached his human-tolerance limit for the evening,"
Xander said to Willow and Angel. He unlocked the brakes on his wheelchair.
"This was fun, Wills. Makes me want to have a bruhaha of my own."
"If you do, we'll be there," Willow said for both herself and Angel.
"Cool." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Spike heading for the door.
"Well, 'night. Try not to have too much fun without us."
"We won't," Willow promised with a smile.
Xander saluted and made his way to the door. Spike was practically bouncing
on his toes in anticipation of leaving. Xander gave him a scolding look.
"Don't act so excited, Spike, or Willow might get offended."
"So what if she does?" Spike countered.
"Because I'm horny and I'd prefer you to be you when we get busy," Xander
told him.
"Well, I wouldn't worry too much, pet," Spike gestured back towards the
living room, "Willow's a bit occupied right now."
Xander craned his neck in order to look over his shoulder. He smirked in
amusement. "And here I just told her not to have too much fun."
Spike laughed. "Guess she wasn't listening."
Oblivious to their friends and the show they were putting on, Willow and
Angel were kissing deeply, wrapped tightly in each other's arms.
**********
End
