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Edges of My Mind
by Tami
Chapter 8
Los Angeles, Hyperion Hotel
Angel was changing his shirt when he heard a small knock on his door. Looking at a sleeping Spike one last time, he went and opened it to see Fred on the other side.
“Hey Fred,” Angel greeted.
“Hi, Angel, you wanted to know when Gunn and Wesley got back. Well they’re here. They’re bringing in the bed now,” Fred told him.
“Thanks,” Angel replied. He stepped out of the room and followed Fred downstairs. As he stepped on the first floor landing he saw Gunn hauling in a piece of the bed frame and went over to help.
“The place was a disaster, just one huge blackened crater. I don’t see how he could have lived there,” Gunn said.
“Not many residential prospects in Sunnydale,” Angel replied.
“So how is the fanged one?” Gunn asked.
“Healing, he’s in pretty bad shape, broken and bruised bones,” Angel reported.
“Yeah, so why is he here?” Gunn asked pointedly.
“I’m the closest family he has. From what I could get out of him, Buffy and her friends wouldn’t have been any help. So, he came here,” Angel explained.
“And this chip he has in his body . . . how reliable is that exactly? I just want to know if I’ll have to stake him soon,” Gunn inquired.
“It’s reliable against humans so you’re safe,” Angel replied.
Just then, they heard a scream. Angel and Gunn set the items aside and ran up the stairs with Wesley following close behind. They ran down the hall and barged into Angel’s suite. With nothing immediately amiss, their brows furrowed in confusion.
Fred had come up to replenish Spike’s blood supply and hadn’t counted on finding Spike naked. The blonde vampire had the sheets twisted around his legs again and his bare ass was in plain view. The sight had startled her. When she screamed, Spike jolted awake and let the sheet tug down even further.
“Bloody hell woman! What’s wrong?” Spike asked, looking around for an intruder.
The action caused déjà vu as he remembered being awakened by Riley barging into his crypt to see him and Buffy together. He shook his head to clear the resulting images of what followed. Then, he looked at Fred to see if she was harmed in any way. Not that he cared, but it wasn’t good to neglect the people who were under the protection of your Sire, who is helping you out.
“You okay, pet?” Spike inquired.
“Yes,” Fred croaked. She cleared her throat before saying, “Sorry. You startled me is all.”
There was a collective sigh of relief audible from the sitting room. What kind of monster did they think he was? He had a chip in his head preventing him from harming them. He was here because a human harmed him! He wasn’t going to do anything that would send him packing. It wasn’t like he could go back to Sunnydale. Buffy had made it clear in her actions with Captain Cardboard and again when she came here to stake him that he was no longer welcome.
“I brought you some more blood,” Fred said as she held up the tray.
“Thanks,” Spike replied.
Angel, Gunn and Wesley had moved closer and were now watching the scene from the doorway between the rooms. Gunn and Wesley were edgy about the whole interaction. They were just waiting for William the Bloody to come to the surface. Wesley had read up on Spike’s past when he was a Watcher, but the vampire lying on the bed now didn’t resemble of the killer he had read about.
Angel was merely watching his childe react with another girl that wasn’t Drusilla or Buffy. From the looks of things, Spike was guarded, but he was nice to her. This was good, though very uncharacteristic of the vampire he knew, to say the least. The blonde vampire was charismatic and flirtatious in nature, but Spike didn’t show any of those traits now. What the hell did they do to him in Sunnydale?
“Spike,” Angel said quietly. When the other vampire turned to look at him, he went on. “Gunn and Wes brought Dru’s bed back. I’ll set it up in the room across the hall.”
Spike nodded and settled back against the pillows more contentedly. He situated the sheet and blanket to cover his body decently. He didn’t feel comfortable with Angel’s pet humans seeing injuries that were gained in an attack but not in battle.
Fred moved around the bed and set the tray on the night-stand beside Spike. He gave her one of his patented smiles and reached for a mug. He watched her over the rim of the cup as he drank his fill. When the mug was empty, he set it down next to the other 3 cups and shifted his body on the bed to lie down again.
“Drink it all, Spike and then try to get some sleep. If you need me, I’ll be across the hall. I’ll let you know when the bed is set up.”
Spike nodded again and Angel led the others out of his suite.
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Angel, Gunn and Wesley hauled the bed up the stairs a few pieces at a time. It was times like this that Angel wished he had fixed the elevator. Once the frame and mattress were on the third floor, they spent another 3 hours cleaning out the abandoned suite. It was a mess. Years of dust and grime covered every surface. Wesley had to go downstairs several times for gloves and extra cleaning supplies. Once the old furniture and other unsalvageable pieces were taken out, Angel and Gunn started rebuilding Drusilla’s bed. Angel remembered when he bought it for her.
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Sunnydale, 1998
Now that the hallowed out factory was gone and they were living in a mansion on Crawford Street, Angelus felt uncharacteristically charitable. He walked down the sidewalk with Drusilla beside him. She was staring in the shop windows with wide eyes as a child would. He was here because with the move to a new place, he felt the need to have new things go into it.
Their first stop had been the fabric store for draperies in colors of deep purples, reds and blacks, and then it was a trip to the bed and bath furniture store. The economy in Sunnydale was so that everything was liquidation cheap. Drusilla had squealed when she first saw the bed and gave Angelus her best pout until he finally broke down and forked over the $875.00 for it. He thought about killing the cashier and taking the money back, but he wasn’t hungry so the kill would be a waste.
Angelus arranged to have it delivered with a complete bedding and walked out of the store a thousand dollars poorer for his charitable efforts. It was so much better to be evil. This charitable feeling was getting him nowhere. He would make Drusilla pay him back with her blood and her body later.
Drusilla was upset that her Sire wouldn’t let her try out the bed inside the store. Angelus couldn’t take that distraction knowing what his childe slept in. He’d end up having to kill everyone in the store after they had an eyeful of her. That would be just too messy for him to deal with right now. Not to mention that it would also attract the attention of the Slayer and he had plans for her later. For now, it was about furnishing the mansion.
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Angel shook his head to clear his thoughts. He and Drusilla got a lot of miles out of the bed. He wondered why Spike had kept it. Angelus never allowed him to sleep in it since he had his own bed down the hall. He shrugged and concentrated on rebuilding the bed.
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Spike drank the rest of the blood after Angel left. He was now trying to sleep again, but the memories were too fresh. If he closed his eyes, he saw what his subconscious had conjured up to haunt him. He knew he was out of it when it happened. He couldn’t tell if what he dreamed about really happened or was an illusion to make it that much worse.
He had been around for 120+ years. He was old enough to be an ancestor to Buffy and her little troupe. He was a demon, inherently stronger than someone like Riley was even with the boy’s steroid-enhanced strength. He should have been able to defend himself in extreme situations. Yet, he couldn’t because of this bloody chip in his head that effectively fried his brain whenever he thought of harming a human. Being an awful poet wasn’t his weakness, it was this chip: bits of molecules and silicone that shocked him into submission.
If any one of Angel’s crew ever came in here and staked him, he couldn’t do anything to defend himself. He had begged Angel to kill him; to end his existence but his Sire had refused. Why was he keeping him around, for entertainment purposes? Angel wanted a go at playing ‘Kick the Spike’ now that Buffy was done with him? Why did Drusilla send him here if all he was going to be subjected to was even more loathing?
This was it. He couldn’t stand it anymore. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Riley sneering down with maniacal glee as he beat and used him. Just like Buffy did. When he was chipped, he learned to adjust to his situation. No more. Adjusting meant that you gave up your true nature and became something unrecognizable. That was what he had become. The chip had taken his life and Riley degraded it to something less. All he wanted was to be staked right and proper for bringing this much shame to the bloodline and Angel wouldn’t even do that! If his Sire wasn’t up to the task, then he’d do it himself.
Spike threw the covers back and gingerly got out of bed. He winced at the feel of healing bones grinding in his body when he moved. This being Angel’s room, he had to have weapons somewhere around here. Limping around the room, he searched through drawers until he found a nicely carved stake.
He went into the sitting room and looked around for something to hold it steady. He remembered trying this in Xander’s basement once. The whelp and witch boggled up the whole thing. Well, Angel and his humans were busy; no one was here to screw anything up now.
Spike found a spring-loaded crossbow and cocked the stake into the notch. Then he proceeded to set it up at chest level and attach a drawstring to it. Taking the string, he stepped as far as way as the string would allow. He silently said his farewells to Angel and Drusilla and closed his eyes. He hoped it was quick.
Just as he was about to pull the string, the door opened and startled him. Spike jumped and the stake went whizzing past his shoulder to embed into the wall behind him. He stared wide-eyed at the intruder and Cordelia stared back.
“Spike, what are you doing?!” Cordelia asked.
“I, uh . . . it’s none of your business what I was doing! I just know that I can never do it in peace. What is with you white-hats coming in the room in the nick of time anyway? Can’t a bloke just end his life in a dignified manner without one of you mucking it up?” Spike said angrily.
“Angel, get in here!” Cordelia yelled. She wasn’t happy that Spike was here in the first place, but Angel said he needed help and that was Angel Investigation’s mission statement: We help the helpless . . . even if they were hopeless, 80s-rejected vampires with no bite left.
A few seconds later Angel, Gunn and Wesley were standing in the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“He tried to stake himself!” Cordelia accused as she pointed at Spike.
“Gee, I thought you would wanna help with the staking, cheerleader,” Spike said derisively.
Angel stepped past Cordelia and into the room. He stood in front of Spike but his words were for the others. “You guys can leave. I need a moment with Spike.” When they looked skeptical, Angel looked over and tried to reassure them. “Nothing is going to happen. We just need to talk.”
As the gang left, Angel and Spike continued to stare at each other. When the door closed, Spike’s eyes dropped in a silent act of submission to his Sire. Well, that and he couldn’t look Angel in the eyes. It was too much to see the disappointment in what he had allowed to happen. He was a Master Vampire, or used to be. He was childe to great Angelus. As much as he seemed to loathe it outwardly, he was silently proud of his heritage. The Initiative and Finn took that from him. He may as well be a minion now.
“What were you doing, Spike?” Angel asked the bowed head.
The gel Spike used on his hair had loosened, allowing some of the natural curls free. His fingers itched to run through them, but this was a time for discipline not gentleness. One minute he was putting the finishing touches on the bed frame and the next Cordelia was calling him in here because his childe had decided to do something drastic.
“Nothing,” Spike answered. Well it was true! I wasn’t doing anything that would warrant the poof’s concern these days. He should be happy that I was trying to off myself and laughing hysterically because I even failed at that.
“William,” Angel spoke his former name in his Sire-tone.
“I asked you to stake me, begged even. Why haven’t you? I’m a disgrace to the bloodline Angel! I can’t live like this! Not after what’s happened,” Spike said.
“I’m not going to kill you Spike, and you are not doing yourself in either, for that matter. I told you I would fix it, didn’t I? I think Darla would have disagreed with you on the disgraced front. If you dust yourself now, that means Finn has won. Do you want that?” Angel asked.
“I don’t know what I am anymore, Angel. This bleedin’ chip in my head has reduced me to nothing and then Riley on top of that? You don’t know what this is like!” Spike growled.
“The hell I don’t! I still have Angelus’ memories. I remember everything he ever did to try to get you to break and you never did. You never once succumbed to something you didn’t want. Riley is a mortal. He’s flesh and bone and human. Compared to you he’s a child. So what if you have a chip in your head? You were able to adapt. I told you I would get the chip out once I could find a way to curb your tendencies. Curb them not stop them. All I’ve seen is weak-willed Willy since you got here. You’re a vampire, Spike! You’re William the Bloody! A 128-year-old vampire! Now, start acting like it!” Angel demanded.
“129,” Spike corrected.
“What?” Angel growled.
“I said I was 129! You’d know that if you ever thought of me over the years,” Spike said.
Angel took a deep breath to calm down. His gruffness was more from upset and worry over his childe than actual anger. Who was Spike to say that he never thought about him over the years? He thought about the blonde plenty. It was just that up until now he knew that Spike was fine and taking care of himself.
“Okay, you’re 129,” Angel amended. “Look, we got the frame of the bed set up and Gunn was putting a new mattress on it if you’re up to inspecting it.”
Spike nodded and Angel helped him over to the opposite suite. Spike felt a wave of relief knowing that the bed had come out of the disaster in Sunnydale undamaged. He had kept it as a link back to his family. When Angel left town a few years ago, he took everything but the furniture. Spike had felt a small sense of responsibility to the mansion for some odd reason and locked it up using the place as storage. Of all the furnishings in the house, Drusilla’s bed was the one thing he wanted to keep. The rest didn’t mean much to him other than memories he’d rather forget. The bed had seemed out of place in the crypt, but here in the hotel, it looked good, if not a little big for the space.
“Thanks, Angel,” Spike said quiet enough that only the other vampire could hear.
“You’re welcome. I’m still surprised you kept it,” Angel said.
“Family heirloom, so to speak, I guess,” Spike shrugged.
When the pain of standing became too much for Spike to bear, Angel helped him back to bed in his suite. As much as Spike seemed to appreciate having the bed in a proper bedroom, it wasn’t ready and he was in no condition to even leave the bed he was assigned to. How he had even gotten the strength to stand on his own feet for the foolish act that Cordelia caught him doing was lost on Angel.
Once Spike was settled, Angel told him, “I’ll have Fred bring you some more blood later, for now try to get some rest if you can and let your body heal. I’ll go finish helping Gunn and be back.”
Spike nodded and lay down again as Angel left the room.
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