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Xanpet
It was quiet in the office. The lull before the storm Wesley suspected, but at least he was able to get some work done and a little research of his own. He was as sure as he could be that Spike was telling the truth about the chip but that didn’t stop him from doing a little digging on William the Bloody. Christ, he hadn’t heard that title since he was in training and what he was reading now didn’t exactly fill him with joy. His linage and age seemed debatable although most writers could agree that he was related to Angelus, consort of Drusilla and – oh no - killer of no less than two Slayers. A vicious and thorough slaughterer with a penchant for railway spikes, hence the nickname, and about as subtle as a house brick in the face. Wesley took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose with weary resignation. “Why are you here, Spike?” He said to the page. “What are the Powers that Be trying to show us?”
He hurriedly cleared the books away. It wouldn’t do for Angel to discover his investigations. The ex Watcher didn’t enjoy showdowns with the souled demon. He was no alpha male and since having met Angelus, all be it a drug-induced version, he could better see where one started and the other finished. And besides, Spike’s presence had to be bringing the caged beast closer to the surface.
He was just in time, a clear vampiric snarl echoed in the foyer. Apparently, Spike had risen just before sundown and was on the prowl. Wesley went to investigate.
“Do I look worried by that, Mister?” Said Cordelia, squaring up to the vampire. To be fair she’d have taken him on, chip or no chip. “Cloth, sponge, get cleaning. I want to be able to eat off it!” She pointed at the blood-splattered microwave.
“Who died and made her Stalin?” Spike grumbled. He was lucky that she didn’t have time to reply because at that moment Angel and Gunn appeared from opposite ends of the room.
“Nothing!” They said in unison. Gunn sprawled himself on what Spike had come to see as ‘his’ sofa. “Worse than nothing,” He continued, “This thing certainly ain’t attacking no one. I talked to every project gang leader out there.”
Spike went to sit on the sofa. He tossed the cleaning implements onto the table and growled at Gunn who, to the vampire’s amazement, growled back. Really growled. Spike wasn’t going to be intimidated by two humans in one evening so he made a great deal of picking up his fags from the table, knocking Gunn’s feet as he did so.
“Ya know, ya’r two seconds away from dusting.” Snapped Gunn.
Spike just smiled, “Yes,” He sniggered mentally, “Reaction.” He pulled a cheap, green, bic lighter from his jeans pocket and lit his first cigarette of the night. He took a long drag, “Ahh. That’s better. Now blood.” He thought.
“Haven’t you forgotten something?” Cordelia tossed the sponge and cloth at him, “And you can put that out as well. The only smoking you get to do round here is the sunlight induced sort.”
“What is it with this woman?” He snarled through gritted teeth. He made a big show of cleaning the microwave but once her back was turned, he stubbed his cigarette out in the centre of the glass tray and put the remainder behind his ear.
“Aw, that’s sweet of you.”
He whipped round to find Fred regarding him with animated interest. Quickly he cleaned away the ash, feeling more like a naughty schoolboy than if any of the others had caught him. She had in her hands what appeared to be an old car radio that had bred with a mobile phone. She took the device to the reception desk and began to tinker with it. Every now and again, she’d tut and tweak the wires with a pair of needle nosed pliers. Occasionally she would stop to make notes on the back of an old Chinese menu and all the while, she talked to herself. Everyone else ignored her.
She reminded Spike of Drusilla. Okay, so it was electronics and not Tarot but he somehow thought it would yield the same results. And someone had to. Gunn and Angel had shaken all their contacts and come up with a fat nothing. Zero too for Wesley and his books, and Cordy and the Net. He took his blood mug over to her computer to see where she’d been looking. He helped himself to a handful of corn chips from the bag she’d been eating and, one by one, swirled them in the blood as if it was salsa dip. From the look she gave him, he was glad he was already dead.
Angel was studying a text Wesley had handed him on Urban Demons. Spike tried to read over his shoulder, but it was all too small without his glasses. Angel licked at the corn chip in Spike’s hand and then absentmindedly ran his tongue along the bloody dribbles, which trailed down Spike’s fingers. He took Spike’s hand and nibbled at the chip. Wesley could see this becoming dangerous. He didn’t want to expose the others to the sexual practices of vampires and he wanted Angel to concentrate. When the others of his nest were around, Angelus rattled at his cage and used every trick he knew to get free, he could dupe his alter ego so easily. If Angel let his guard down even for a moment, Spike could trip the happiness clause without even realising it.
“Can you see anything? Is there something I’ve missed? Angel?”
The vampire banged the book shut at the sound of his name and everyone jumped. “This is impossible.” He barked, taking a guilty step away from Spike.
“Well, let’s set out what we have so far,” Said Wesley relieved that the moment had passed. “A demon that fits no known description. Not unusual, there are an infinite amount of realities and they all spawn new demons every day.”
“A demon that has no purpose other than to stink like project garbage.” Added Cordelia. Spike was sure the look she gave was directed at him.
“A demon that the Powers that Be want us to deal with. You did have a vision.” Reminded Wesley.
“A demon that hasn’t been making business for the ERs.” Gunn said.
“A demon that Spike can’t hurt without intense neurological pain.” Angel shook his head, “Spike you have to be it.”
“Excuse me, I don’t stink like project garbage!”
“No I mean the key.”
“The last time anyone thought I was a key, I ended up being tortured by a hell god, kicked through a door and had to throw meself down a lift shaft. I really bloody hope I’m not a key.”
“Not you,” Said Fred. “This,” She came right up to Spike and tapped his temple. “It’s picking up something, look.” And she held out the device she had been working on. As she brought it near to Spike’s head, it began to whistle. “I’m not sure but I think…yes I think that something…it’s transmitting and when it gets the correct signal back then if you…you know then, well, that’s it really.”
“Are you saying that the chip can detect humans?” Asked Wesley.
“Well no, ‘cos well it’s anything living, isn’t it, Spike?” She smiled at him.
“Yeah, but more so with humans, see.” He poked Wesley in the ribs and then clutched his head, wishing he hadn’t. The instrument Fred was holding wailed and the needle flicked up into the red.
“Do it again.” She said.
“NO!” Spike and Wesley chorused.
Wesley thought for a moment, “Maybe it’s picking up on body heat or pulse rate?”
But Spike shook his head, “No, ‘cos scunge-breath didn’t ‘ave neither and I’ve managed to deck demons that had both.”
Gunn looked impatient, “So jus’ how many times you want, we should go round this circle?”
“It’s a lateral thinking problem.” Said Spike, scooting round Gunn to sit in his space on the sofa. The rest looked at him, “Oh let me give you prannets an example, Anthony and Cleopatra lie dead. There are no marks and no blood. There is no weapon in the room. They lie in a pool of water and glass, next to a highly polished table. The window is open and the heavy velvet curtain billows in the breeze. What happened?”
“They were shot.” Said Gunn.
“Nope. No weapon in the room and no marks on the bodies.”
“Domestic dispute. She ka-oed him with the flower vase.” Cordelia added.
“Good try, Princess but they’re both dead and no flowers.”
“Maybe…” Began Fred but Angel stopped her, placing his hand on her shoulder.
“Maybe,” He said, “We’d better stop with the games and enlist some real help. Cordelia, take Spike to Caritas.” Angel knew he should go himself but he didn’t want the Host in his head right now. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was feeling until he knew better himself. He’d meet them later.
Cordelia however wasn’t too happy, “And since when does my job description cover baby sitting every vampire house guest that drops in for a bite?!”
“Good pun.” Sniggered Spike.
“Not another word from you or you’ll find out just how much like Stalin I can be.”
She was at great pains to warn Spike that, if his screwball ex turned up, she could do her own sightseeing! It was fair enough that he wasn’t actually responsible for the demon that was her ex friend, but he was responsible for her good sling backs stinking of vamp barf.
The Host would have liked to have enjoyed the Frankie Valley number being performed by a couple of reasonably talented Polgara Demons. He would have liked to have given them a pile of smulchy crap as a reading. You’ll be coming into money, meeting your true love at the Wal-Mart that sort of thing. But The Powers That Be were about to ruin his evening, not to mention his bar, in a big way. Still he wasn’t going to just stand aside gracefully. He’d had the spells, which guarded against demon violence, reinforced even though he knew it would do no good. The PTBs wanted to use Caritas for a little demonstration and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. It did not make for a good evening.
“Oh no,” Said Lorne, extremely agitated. “No, Honey. I’m sorry, no vampires allowed in my club. So it’s been nice meeting you and keep in touch, tootles.” He tried to steer them towards the exit.
“Since when? And that’s racism,” Said Cordelia, “And anyway, you let Angel in. And Harmony.”
“And there are already three in ‘ere, so shut your cake, Kermit.” Spike looked at the karaoke bar. He looked at the blue plush curtains behind the stage, he looked at the purple and blue lighting, he looked at the mirrored bar and he looked at Lorne.
The Host tutted and went behind the bar. He tapped the ‘Do not eat the clientele’ sign but Spike just grinned, “Me grandmother always said blue and green should never be seen, China.” And he flicked the collar of Lorne’s double-breasted lounge suit, which was in a brilliant azure.
“Can’t I persuade you to take your custom elsewhere, there’s a lovely sushi bar in the next block, seaweed to die for, if you’ll excuse the expression.”
Cordelia pulled him to the end of the bar, “What is wrong with you? Okay so he’s not exactly Mister ‘perfect date’ but you run a service. Just let him sing, do his reading and we’ll be gone. I’m not exactly thrilled over this either, you know.”
“I can’t read him.”
“What?”
“He’s a vampire, no soul.”
“You read Angel.” Lorne looked at her until it sunk in. “Oh. Okay. So soul. But you read Harmony.”
“No Kitten, I read you.”
“Well can’t you do that now?” Cordy was getting increasingly frustrated with Lorne’s attitude.
“If I give him his reading, terrible, terrible things will happen.” But she showed no signs of going. “You’re still here. Which terrible did you not understand?”
Spike joined them, “If David Banner here don’t want to feel me bumps makes no odds to me.”
Lorne sighed and gave in. The PTB couldn’t be stopped anyway, so there was no point in fighting the tidal wave. “Oh go on. Singing. Reading. Leaving. In that order. Unless you’d rather start in reverse?”
Cordelia shook her head.
Spike went up to the stage, “So how does this work, mystical backing tapes, ‘cos if it’s a case of reading me mind, ain’t gonna work, Mate.”
Lorne bit back the next remark and handed him the mike. He instructed him in how it worked and then left the stage. He really didn’t want this. The Powers That Be had a sick sense of humor sometimes. “Why me?” He asked himself.
Then his mind seemed to empty, at least of his own worries, because Spike had begun to sing,
“Now you say you love me,
You cried the whole night through,
Well, you can cry me a river,
Cry me a river,
I cried a river over you.”
It was amazing, crystal clear notes, passionate intonation and powerful expression. Cordelia stood with her mouth open.
“Now you say you’re sorry
For being so untrue,
Well, you can cry me a river,
Cry me a river,
I cried a river over you.”
“He sounds so heartbroken,” She whispered to The Host, “Is he pining over his nutso girlfriend still? Hello?! Dumped him twice…. Time to buy a clue and move on, already.”
“Remember you’re listening to a demon, Cupcakes. Vampires are naturally seductive. It’s how they hunt.” But even Lorne was being taken in, or was he? He could feel something. See something? “Keep singing, Sweetums. I’ll get it in a minute.” He thought.
The song was reaching the first middle eight,
“You drove me, nearly drove me,
Out of my head,
When you never shed a tear.
Remember, I remember all that you said,
Told me love was through for being,
Told me you were through with me,”
A group of suit types were getting a little rowdy in the front. “Hey, trying to listen here!” Shouted Cordelia but they just heckled and laughed. Some of them crossed the bar and began to jostle her.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your boyfriend’s caterwauling.”
“He’s so not my…”
“Free are you then? And easy I’ll bet.”
Angel arrived in the doorway feeling foolish. He’d sent Cordy out with a dangerous vampire on her own, just because he was afraid of his own feelings. Still everything seemed all right. Wesley’s panic and Gunn’s threats appeared to be for nothing. He stared at Spike. Hell, it was a long time since he’d heard either boy or demon sing. Spike used to sing to Drusilla when she got agitated but once he was in the wheelchair, he never did. Was the song for her? Or maybe for Angel himself or another lost love.
The Host walked towards Angel and whispered, “One of yours? Talent skip a generation? He’s good, but much as I’d like to get two shows a week, let me hit you with the news, and then you go. All of you. Now.”
“I thought you could only give the reading to the singer.”
“Oh this isn’t the reading, this is something else. I hate to break it to you ‘Daddy’ but your little bleach blond nightingale has a soul!”
It took a moment for that to sink in. “But how?”
“Ours is not to argue with The Powers That Be, although I’m sure as hell trying. But no he’s not cursed before you ask. He is totally unaware of its existence. It’s in his aura. His soul is hiding. He never really died and what’s more, it’s in pain, Sweetness. And now, it’s been nice talking with you but, tootles, ciao…skidaddle.” As he spoke he felt a rush, as if all the energy in the room had been sucked out. The PTB brought the anti violence spells crashing down and Caritas was defenceless.
Spike was coming to the end of his song,
“But now you say you love me,
And to prove you do,
Come on and – cry me a river,
Cry me a river,
I cried a river over you.”
The final bars of the mystical orchestra were playing but the crowd at the front were getting louder. From his vantage point on the stage, Spike could see Cordelia being jostled and bumped.
“I cried a river…” He never finished. Several of the men were getting handy. Cordelia was trying to fend off gropes from all sides. “Oh come on darling, I’m a lawyer, just a little kiss.”
“Yeah, there might be something in it for you.”
“Tits as ripe as…” That was it; he launched himself from the stage and dived, head long into the crowd. The lawyers scattered. Circular tables went flying and Spike found, to his surprise and delight, that every punch connected and didn’t hurt, at least not him. His features morphed and he snarled and roared. This was great, like coming home. He wrenched the chrome legs from an upturned chair and began to swing them over his head like an English quarterstaff. He was going to take the first head that he saw and knock it for six. “I bet I can at least make the boundary.” He thought gleefully. “Owzatt!!”
Angel reached him just in time and caught the end of the chair leg. That spoiled his fun and he spun round. The two vampires squared up to one another and the lawyers took their opportunity and ran. “The Senior Partners will hear about this, bottom feeder.” Was the passing shot from the last one out.
“And who said chivalry was dead?” Cordelia liked someone to fight for her honour, whoever it was. They all looked at the wreckage of the bar.
“I thought no demon violence in Caritas.” Angel was puzzled. Spike with a soul, Spike able to hit humans, albeit Wolfram and Hart staff, which he doubted counted. This had just thrown up more questions than answers.
“The Powers That Be have a sick sense of humor.” Muttered the Host. He was going to have to find some PTB proof spells and that was going to cost. He turned to Spike, “Okay, you can drop the ‘Robin Hood’ now. Maid Marion is safe. Take it home Angel cakes before I do the dance of the pissed bar owner.”