Spike sprawled on the floor, his chest heaving as he gulped unnecessary air, "I've never felt anything like that," he breathed. "It was like nothing I've ever tasted before."
Angel, seemingly already recovered, paused from buttoning his shirt, his trembling hands and a dark stain on his collar silent witnesses to his own inner turmoil. He reached out his hand towards the younger vampire. Wordlessly, with a look of near reverence, Spike clasped it with his own and allowed himself to be helped to his feet.
"What did it taste like?" Buffy asked, more of a need to break the oppressive silence then out of any real interest.
"Were you not listening?" Spike's eyes never left his sire, a newfound respect shining in them. "I just said I never tasted anything like it." He fingered his tattered shirt, "and you said I was the sloppy eater," he said wryly. There was no blame in his voice, only a friendly camaraderie that seemed to flow naturally between them. They were friends before, Buffy thought, the nature of their friendship suddenly a wonder to her.
"Maybe it was because Angel's a man," Willow suggested hesitantly. "And you've probably never, um," she floundered, "tasted a man before."
Spike finally tore his adoring gaze away from his sire to snicker at the timid redhead. "Little girl, I'm a century old amoral vampire. I've TASTED men, women and a full myriad of interesting things in between." He rolled his eyes as the girl took a step back into the protective embrace of her boyfriend. "Now would somebody who knows what they're talking about please talk?"
"What did it feel like?" Angel asked quietly. His stance was calm, his stained shirt the only evidence that something had happened.
"Alive," Spike replied, awe bouncing off his voice. "Raw and powerful, like a Slayer's only more earthy." Buffy swallowed hard, forcefully turning her mind away from the thought of how Spike would know that. "Older then anything I've ever felt before," he went on, "what you'd feel like if you'd lived a hundred times your lifetime." His time in hell, Buffy thought. How old was he now? "But somehow still alive." He said the last with a childish sort of wonder.
"Can you tell me who I am?" Angel asked intently, his dark eyes boring into his childe's.
Spike shook his head, "I'm sorry, mate. I couldn't even begin to guess. You're a bit like the way you used to be, before, when you still had a spine. Only this time your soul was still there," he made a face even as Buffy breathed her relief. Of course his soul was still there. She tried to glare at Xander, but he wasn't looking her way. "It's almost like you're everything rolled up into one," he shook his head again. "I don't know who you are."
Angel nodded, his gaze falling to the floor, his shoulders slumped with defeat. Wordlessly he turned and walked towards the swinging wooden doors. "Angel!" Buffy called out after him. She didn't know what to say, but she knew she couldn't let him leave like this. He didn't even pause to the sound of her voice as he left the library.
They stood in stunned silence for a moment as the heartbroken Slayer blinked back her tears. "You can't let him run around like this!" Xander finally spluttered, "he's out of his mind, you don't know what he might do out there." Buffy shook her head helplessly, the words choking in her throat.
Spike nodded, "Hell has just frozen over." They stared at him and he sighed, "you've been living on the hell-mouth for too long, kiddies. What I mean is I agree with the idiot child over there." Xander flushed, but kept his mouth shut. "I could feel the madness in him, pet," he told Buffy. "It's different then it was before, after you gave him his happy, but he isn't in full control."
"But his soul..." She started.
"Is in there with a mind that's out of control and a demon howling for blood," Spike shook his head, "all mixed together somehow. He can't be left alone." Buffy nodded lamely and went after the pale vampire into the cool night.
"I could have told her that," Xander muttered as the Slayer and vampire left.
"And it would have been just as effective," his girlfriend patronized. "How do you know which way he went?" Buffy demanded after a few minutes of following Spike at a brisk walk.
"I don't," he replied.
"Then where are we going?"
"To see the elders."
Buffy stopped in her tracks, allowing the pale vampire to continue a few more paces, "excuse me?"
Spike turned slowly, "to see the elders," he repeated, annunciating each word. "I have no intention on chaperoning a who-knows-how-old vampire."
She stared at him, "but all the stuff that you said..."
"Which is exactly the reason why we're going to see the elders."
"But you said he couldn't be left alone!"
He rolled his eyes, "why me?" He asked the moon. It glowed on, ignoring him entirely. "Try to keep up with the story line, luv. I exaggerated."
"Why?"
He breathed deeply and closed his eyes, calling on every bit of patience his demon had to offer. It didn't. "Because," he grated, "I didn't feel like explaining myself to your yapping friends." He held up his hand to cut off any more questions. "I met with Dru after she saw Angel. She told me he wasn't right in the head." A delicate eyebrow lifted questioningly. "Well not in so many words," he added reluctantly, "but I got the general idea. Anyway, that's why I went to see you in the first place, pet, to tell you that this has gone on long enough. We need to bring in some more help."
She thought about it, about Angel's reactions, his mood swings. "If this is a trap," she started.
He groaned, "do we REALLY need to go through this again, Slayer?"
She shook her head, "lead the way." He gave her a feral grin that almost made her wish she had staked him that first night outside the Bronze. They walked to the outskirts of town where Spike's car was waiting, parked in the shadows.
"You're kidding," Buffy said, eyeing the filthy vehicle suspiciously, "we walked all this way for THIS?"
He shrugged as he creaked open the rusty door, "can't park it in the city. Officials keep calling it a hazard of some kind and tow it away."
"Gee, I wonder why," she muttered balefully, glaring at the blackened windshield. "Clean much?" She asked, kicking a half-empty vodka bottle out from under her feet.
He sighed, this was going to be a long ride.
"Spike," she said after several long moments of silence, "that thing you did with Angel tonight. Did you guys do that before?"
He risked a glance her way, noting how young and fragile she looked in the darkness, "we're vampires, pet." He said as if that explained everything. After several moments of silence he realized she was expecting more than that as an answer. "He's my sire," he finally added.
"Think you can speak in longer sentences?" She asked irritably, "four words or more should do fine."
"Didn't you two ever talk?" He retorted, "or did you just mumble around each other's tongues?"
Her green eyes narrowed dangerously, "oh yeah, we talked," she replied acidly. "About saving the world, keeping ourselves and others alive, from you among other things. You know the usual couple lovey-dovey stuff. Guess we just never found the time to reminisce."
He laughed much to her chagrin, "yeah right, the Poof probably never liked to talk about his past, would ruin his image as the Slayer's pet vampire." Buffy bit back a growl, the platinum haired vampire had an annoying talent of cutting straight to the truth. "I will tell you this, though," Spike added, his voice suddenly filled with memories. "He was different then, not like you knew him after his soul flew away."
"Different how?" She asked, suddenly filled with curiosity.
"He wasn't bleeding mad, for starters," Spike replied quickly, reminding Buffy that he too had suffered when Angel had changed. "He also wasn't as power hungry. Knew how to relax, enjoy the little things in life. A good show in London, a carriage ride around Paris at night, a nice all-you-can-eat brothel in Amsterdam." He sighed reflectively, "those were the days. We cut through Europe like we owned it, but then he had to go and eat a Gypsy." His pale face clouded at the memory, "I told him not to, you know. I said: 'Angelus, leave the bloody Gypsies alone, they're bad for you.' What with all that magic and warped beliefs, who knew what they could be carrying." His voice turned strangely parental, reminding her slightly of her mother telling her to go do her homework or Giles saying she ought to be patroling. The thought evoked a smile out of the Slayer despite his words. "But did he listen? Oh no, Angelus always knew better than everyone else. I thought he was dead till that night at the high school. Nearly killed poor Dru, it did."
"Really?" Buffy asked, biting back the humor in her voice at the last second. He seemed to catch it anyway and looked at her, searching for signs of mockery in her features. "Watch the rode!" She hissed as the car swerved dangerously close to the gutter.
"Yes really," he said once the car moved more securely on the dark, beaten track. "She was never the same after he was gone. That night, when the mob nearly killed her in Prague, I always thought she did it on purpose. She killed a hooker in the middle of a street full of people," he said, catching her curious look, "didn't even try to run away. I found her half dead and bleeding, they beat her so bad it took her a full year to walk again." His face changed as his demon awakened at the memory, "they probably left her thinking she was dead, the bloody bastards," he hissed through sharp, angry fangs, "she was never the same, though. Lost her will to live." He chanced a quick look at the hushed Slayer, "she loved him, you know."
Yes, I know, Buffy thought. Despite all he ever did to her she probably loved him more than she could ever love you. She still does. "How old are the elders?" She asked quickly, needing to change the subject.
He laughed, his face shifting back to his human mask. "Well them being called elders in a race that's supposed to live forever is a bit of a hint," he said as Buffy swallowed nervously. "I'll put it to you this way, luv. Remember the master?" She nodded, her face clouding at the memory. She still had nightmares about him. "Well, when he wasn't even a glint on his sire's fangs they were still known as the elders. Helpful enough?" She nodded, cold sweat breaking out at the thought of ageless demons wanting to see her.
