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How to Treat Your
Lover
by Tami
Chapter 18
Chapter 18-B: Step 2 – Understanding (Part 1)
Los Angeles, Boyle Heights
Four young men, two of them with their hoods up, walked around a corner as a guy got ready to get into his nice car. He saw them and started to run off. “Just take the car!” he yelled behind him.
The four men ran after him. “Hey, look out!” the leader of the group warned.
The man looked back to see why they were warning him. He turned around and ran smack into a vampire. The vampire was about to bite him when the lead guy pushed back his hood to reveal himself as Gunn and pulled out a stake. He knocked the vampire to the ground and quickly staked him. The shocked man pointed to where the vampire had just turned to dust, unable to get a whole word out.
“You should probably go home now,” Gunn said slowly.
The man looked at Gunn with the shocked expression still in place. The vampire hunter motioned with his eyes back to where the man’s car was parked. After a beat, the guy took off as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Ah, you’re welcome?” Gunn called after the fleeing man.
Angel stepped out of the shadows and looked in the direction of the guy and then back at Gunn. “People nowadays . . . would it kill him to say thank you?”
Gunn put the stake away and greeted, “Angel.”
Angel nodded. “Been a while, you well?”
Gunn held out his arms, smiling; “Picture of health and harmony.” He gestured toward Angel, “look at you, dog! You haven't aged a bit!”
Angel rolled his eyes at the joke. “I got a situation,” he said gravely.
“So much for the small talk.” Gunn turned to his companions and instructed, “Sweep Olympic up to Broadway, and I'll hook up with y'all back at the crib.”
When they were gone, Angel fell into step beside Gunn and inquired, “Where is home these days?”
“Friendly landlord off eighth, we keep the block safe for democracy; he hooks us up with the rent.”
Angel nodded. “You ever hear of a Prio Motu?”
“Is that like a '62 Chevy with the big cam?” Gunn asked enthusiastically. Angel just looked at him. “All right, I could have just said no.”
“It's a warrior demon. He was living down here,” Angel explained.
“Well, isn't that nice? I thought all we had to dodge was roaches and vampires! What is this demon up to?”
“Not much. He's dead. But, I want to find out where he was living. It'd be underground somewhere near the D.W.P,” Angel said.
“Well, I know all the pockets. And I'm getting the sense that you want do this now,” Gunn concluded.
“It's kind of urgent,” Angel stated.
Angel and Gunn walked through the tunnels under the D.W.P. “How deep are these?” Angel inquired.
“Pretty deep, bro. We cleaned a vampire nest out of here last year. We've been patrolling it on occasion ever since. This Prio Motu guy, what was he up to?” Gunn asked curiously.
“He was protecting a young pregnant woman,” Angel answered grimly, remembering what he had done.
“He was on our side?”
“Yeah,” Angel replied apathetically.
“Well, did you find the scumbag that killed him?” Gunn asked teasingly.
“I'm the scumbag that killed him,” Angel replied flatly.
“Oh.” As they walked passed a grate, Gunn noticed a vent in the wall. “Oh, hey. Hold up. That wasn't there before.”
Angel followed him to the vent and Gunn pressed up against it. “You feel any air coming out of this vent? I don't feel no air.”
He found a latch on the side and pulled it open to reveal a lair. They walked in and closed the door behind them.
“The guy kept a neat house,” Gunn commented as they gave the place a cursory search.
Angel made a sound of acknowledgement as he picked up a book and flipped through it, “Kamal.”
“What’s that?” Gunn picked up a sword and examined the weapon.
“That was his name,” Angel said as he turned around to see what his companion was doing, “Gunn . . .” He stopped when a keepsake box stole his attention. Stepping closer to it, Angel opened it and saw a few nondescript items. He closed it again and ran his hands over the top and sides until a latch clicked.
“We supposed to be looking for something?” Gunn asked when Angel pulled open a hidden drawer and took out a round brown medallion. “Like that?”
Angel fiddled with the medallion and turned toward Gunn. “I hate to ask, but . . .”
“Night's still young. What you need?” Gunn offered.
Angel handed him a business card and the medallion. “I work with a couple people at this address, the one on the back.” Gunn accepted the items. “I need them to see this right away. Tell them it might have something to do with the Tribunal.”
Gunn nodded. “The Tribunal. Got it. What, you're going to hang here and soak up the guilt?”
“Some thing like that.”
When Gunn left, Angel walked around and picked up a mortar. The fight with Kamal was still fresh in his mind and played like a movie reel. He glanced up and saw a Buddha statue. He replaced the candle in front of it with a new one and lit it. His Catholic upbringing showed through by doing such an act.
Just then, he heard a noise outside the lair. Picking up the sword Gunn was handling, he hid under the stairs until the person entered the lair. Angel jumped out pointing his weapon straight at – the startled pregnant woman coming down the steps.
“You’re safe,” he said, surprised. He looked at the sword and put it down. “That's good.”
As the woman walked down the steps, she warned, “You shouldn't be here. You don't have the right.”
“Oh, I know. It's . . . not really my choice, either. Kamal's mission is mine now,” Angel said.
The woman laughed bitterly. “You sound just like him! You guys with your missions, and ancient laws, and medieval codes of honor! Well, I'm not interested. I'm just trying to protect my baby.”
“I understand,” Angel said and meant it. He had done everything he could to protect his childe from the time he created him. Now that he was mated to Spike, he was doubly careful.
“How could you? I don't even understand it! I mean, six months ago I'm working the register at Costco. I did my time as a stock-girl and I was moving up. I was going to be able to provide for my baby. Now, all I want to do is make sure she gets born,” the woman ranted.
“Well, I want that too,” Angel smiled.
The woman nodded. “Right, because she is some seer, or leader or Joan of Arc? Well, you know what she is to me?” She turned and glared at him. “She is my daughter, not someone's holy mission.”
Angel shrugged uncomfortably. “It's not exactly that – it’s . . . sort of my job.”
The woman looked at him incredulously. “Your job?”
Angel smirked. “Yeah. Look! I got cards . . . and an office.” He cringed at the thought of his building’s fate. “Well, the office kind of blew up, but we're working out of this other apartment in Silver Lake, temporarily.” The woman took the proffered card and looked at it. Angel watched her for a moment, and then said softly, “Let me help you. Let me help your daughter.”
The woman looked around, searching for something. “We need to find the coat of arms. Kamal said I needed to present it to the Tribunal and maybe if I do they call this whole thing . . . What?” she asked when Angel stopped searching.
“It wouldn't be a round bronze talisman. Oh, say, about this big?” Angel held his hands up in a big circle.
The woman smiled and nodded vigorously. “Yes.”
Angel chuckled. “I already found it.”
“Yeah? Where is it?” Her smile faded when Angel didn’t produce it. “What?”
Angel had the decency to look sheepish. “Well, I don't exactly have it right here on my person. I thought it was best to,” he trailed off when she walked past him and stomped up the steps. “I know where it is. I-I can take you there,” he said as he followed her. “The address on the back of the card . . .”
The woman turned on him. “Do me a favor? Stop helping!”
She opened the door to a demon ready to take a swipe her. Angel ran between them and the demon and knocked the demon back. As he fought the beast, he asked, “I can kill this thing, right?”
“Yes!” she answered.
“You're sure? You don't - think - he might - be good?” he asked between dodging blows and throwing a few punches of his own.
“Kill it!” she begged.
Angel threw the demon into the doorway of the lair and slammed the door on its head. The demon still growled as they looked down at it. “I think we should – run,” he said as he took her hand and led her out of the tunnels.
**************************
Los Angeles, Cordelia’s Apartment
Spike, Wesley and Cordelia were still researching the Tribunal when there was a knock at the door. Cordelia got up and went into the hallway, “Who is it?”
“Gunn,” said a muffled voice.
Wesley got up and walked into the hall. “What was that?”
Cordelia shrugged. “Something about a gun. What if it's a demon with a gun?”
Spike rolled his eyes and got up as Wesley moved Cordelia back into the kitchen. “Listen up, whoever you are, we are well armed and we know how to do battle, so if you know what's good for you . . .”
“You two are a piece of work.” Spike rolled his eyes and walked to the door.
“My name is Gunn,” the person said through the door. “Angel sent me.”
Still licking the blood from his meal off his fingers, Spike opened the door to a black man in an orange sweatshirt. “Hello, mate.”
“Well, this is a little embarrassing. Please, come in,” she turned to Wesley and said, “Wesley, you've heard Angel talk about Gunn. He's a great guy with a really fly street tag.”
Gunn took one look at Spike and pulled out a stake. Spike’s eyes widened and he backed away into the apartment as Gunn came in after him. Once he was past the threshold, the black man leapt on Spike, knocking him to the ground and had the stake poised for the kill.
“Wait! It’s not what you think!” Cordelia slammed the door and rushed to stop Gunn from dusting Spike.
Gunn looked from Cordelia to Spike and back. “Then, he’s not a vampire?”
Cordelia nodded. “Well, yeah, he is." Gunn raised the stake again, but Cordelia caught his wrist. “But, he’s good . . . sort of. He belongs to Angel.”
“Hey!” Spike scoffed at Cordelia’s words. His brow furrowed in anger at the reference in ownership. “I don’t belong to anyone. I choose to be with Angel.”
“Yeah, right!” Cordelia grinned knowingly.
“Angel never said anything about another vampire,” Gunn said skeptically.
Cordelia laughed nervously. “Can’t imagine why he’d let that slip, especially since he never told us about you before either.”
Gunn got to his feet and Spike scrambled back to his. They stared at each other. “So he's a good-guy vampire like Angel?”
“Sort of,” Wesley said flatly.
Spike cringed. “I am nothing like Angel! Angel's dull as a table lamp. 'Sides, we have very different coloring.” Wesley and Cordelia stared at Spike, both knowing how he acted around Angel. When he caught their eyes, he feigned innocence. “What?”
Cordelia turned to Gunn. “So, Gun. It really lets them know you mean business.”
Gunn rolled his eyes at the cheerleader. “It's my name. Charles Gunn. Two 'n’s,” he corrected, holding up two fingers.
“Oh Lord! Will no one just shut me up?” Cordelia asked in embarrassment.
“Well, since you asked so nicely, princess,” Spike moved toward her in an attempt to kiss her when she smacked him away.
Wesley ignored his two companions and held out his hand. “Uh, I’m Wesley Wyndham . . .” he started to say when Gunn turned away and looked at the dry-erase board. “. . . Price, this is Cordelia Chase and the menace you were about to dust is Spike.”
Gunn turned around and fished the talisman out of his pocket. “I was hoping for some demon fighting tonight, but I wound up with a delivery job instead.” He carefully handed the medallion to Wesley. “Angel said it might have something to do with the Tribunal.”
Spike went to get a research book while Wesley looked at it closely. “Well, this could be an emblem, or some sort of protective amulet.”
Gunn shifted and pointed to the board. “Are these all the cases y'all got going? Isn't this the well-oiled machine?”
Cordelia glanced at the board. “We set them up, we knock them down. Or we did, until Angel knocked down the wrong . . .” She laughed nervously and then sobered up. “I'm sure he is getting on top of it now.”
**************************
Los Angeles, Tunnels
Truthfully, in the course of this case, Angel had forgotten to mention Spike to Gunn. He didn’t even think to warn the black man of his childe staying at the apartment. He was too guilt-ridden over killing Kamal and taking over his mission and currently, Spike was at the back of his mind. He led the woman through the sewers until he came to a familiar cross-section and looked round.
“What?” the woman asked when he stopped.
“This way,” Angel said, tugging her in a familiar direction.
They came up through a grate in the basement of a building. Angel maneuvered her around old boxes, up the stairs, and into a deserted hotel lobby. The furniture was covered with sheets.
The woman watched Angel examine the place. “You've been here before.” She shuddered. “It feels creepy.”
“Yeah,” he agreed and then turned around to face her. “What's the Tribunal?”
“It’s some kind of otherworldly court. Supposedly, they can save me and my daughter. You – you go before them, you got to have that charm . . . I don't know how it works. Kamal said that he was going be my champion.” Not knowing what else to say she sighed in frustration. “You know what? Screw this! I'm getting out of town!”
As she walked away, Angel followed her. “No!”
“Try and stop me,” she threatened.
“They'll find you wherever you go. You have to stay with me,” he explained.
She rounded on him. “You? You can't protect me!”
“Yes, I can,” he said adamantly. “We're going to go to my friend's house. We're going to get that charm and I'm going to make this right, I promise. There is a gate in the back . . .” He stopped when he heard a noise and then pushed her toward the opposite door. “Go to the address I gave you. Go!”
Just as the woman ran, Angel was attacked by two demons.
**************************
Los Angeles, Cordelia’s Apartment
Angel walked into Cordelia’s apartment to find her, Wesley and Spike at the kitchen table. The seer and watcher jumped up and met him in the hallway.
“Angel! Are you all right?” Cordelia asked as she took in his appearance. “What happened?”
Angel heard her but was looking around the apartment. “Is she here?”
“The pregnant woman? No. But, Gunn brought us the talisman,” Cordelia assured him.
Angel looked at Wesley for an explanation.
Wesley went back to his books. “Working on it,” he said softly.
Angel rolled his eyes and slammed his hands against the dry-erase board. “I told her to come here. She doesn't trust me. Why should she?”
Cordelia watched him vent. “You can't see everything. You're just a vampire like everyone else . . . That didn't come out right.”
“I thought I was out of the tunnel,” Angel said resignedly as he slumped down on the sofa.
“Sure you did . . . because the tunnel is – you know, it's something we all . . .” she stopped when she didn’t know what she meant. “Are we talking real tunnel or symbolic? Just give me that much.”
“I-I saw the light at the end of the tunnel; that some day I might become human. That light was so bright, I thought I was already out,” he explained sadly.
Cordelia sat down beside him and sighed, “Yeah. We all got a little cocky, didn't we? It's going to be a long while until you work your way out, but I know you well enough to know you will. I'll be with you until you do.”
Angel looked at her and smirked. “What about your inevitable stardom?”
“I'm not saying I won't have a day job.”
“I’ll be with you too, Angel,” Spike said quietly from the doorway. “The claims are forever in place so it’s not like I’ll be going anywhere.”
Angel smiled at his childe. Spike had sacrificed so much this past year. Contrary to how agreeable the younger vampire had been lately, they still had their arguments and disagreements. It’s just with this case occupying most of his time; they hadn’t had much time for there to be a good family argument. Even Angelus had been silent for the last couple of months. That’s not to say either Spike or Angelus wouldn’t blow up at him sooner or later. He and Spike shared a meaningful look.
Wesley walked passed Spike. “I think we got something. It's medieval, a small badge or coat of arms, to be presented when going before the Ca-hair Binse. Roughly translated that's chair of judgment.”
The Tribunal,” Angel pointed out.
“Right. It’s an ancient court to settle grievances.”
“You mean – with like lawyers and stuff,” Cordelia asked.
“This is a little more primitive,” Wesley explained. “It's a fight to the death.”
“That's why she needed a champion,” Angel concluded. “Where would this Tribunal take place?”
Wesley shook his head. “There is no way to tell. They're mystical events; they could rise up in our reality whenever they please.”
“Look, we got to find her right away . . . whatever it takes.” He thought about it and with dread, said, “There's only one way.”
**************************
Los Angeles, Caritas
The gang had brought Spike along this time. Since he had been bored the last time they left him alone, he decided to tag along. He was starting to regret coming though when Angel got up on stage to sing. He couldn’t believe they wanted Angel to sing. His Sire could never carry a tune. Spike went to the bar to get himself a pint of any liquor as Cordelia and Wesley watched in horror while their boss was on stage singing . . .
“Oh, Mandy. Well you came and you gave without taking, but I sent you away, oh Mandy. Well, you kissed me and stopped me from shaking.”
Lorne stood near the bar and watched Angel when Spike came up for his drink.
“I need you today, oh Mandy.” Angel looked around at the demons in the audience and his singing got worse. “Well, you came and you gave . . .”
“That man will do anything to save a life,” Cordelia commented as she watched the horror unfold in front of her very eyes.
From the bar, they heard Spike slam his glass down on the top and yell, “Bartender! Another shot over here and leave the bottle!” Then, mumbled, “I may use it to knock the pillock out after this.”
With bottle and glass in hand, Spike went over and plopped down in a chair between Cordelia and Wesley. “Did you have to get him to bloody sing? You couldn’t just have the ponce mime?
“Well, how were we supposed to know he couldn’t sing?” Cordelia shot back.
“I would have told you Angel couldn't sing. Only known him for little over 125 years, didn't I? Been under his wing for 25 of those years as a fledge. But, ditcha’ ever think to ask ol’ Spike? Nope. No one bothered to ask me, ditcha'!”
Spike cringed and ducked his head when Angel sang, “OHHHHHH MANNNNNDDDYYYYYY”
“Bloody hell! Two cats in a fight 'ave more harmony than this. Why did he choose a Manilow song? If it had to be Manilow, he could have sung
Copacabana.” Spike ranted as he took a swig of liquor from the bottle and offered it to his companions.
Finally, the Host took pity on the souled vampire. He went up on stage and took the mic away from Angel as the song ended.
“Hey, how 'bout that. A performer. Why don't we just call him Angel, the vampire with soul? I'm going to have a chat with Mr. Tall Dark and Rockin' and meanwhile, Durthock, the child-eater, is going to open up to y'all. He's searching for the gorrishyn mage that stole his power, and he's feeling just a little bit country. So, let’s give him a hand.”
The Host led Angel off the stage and over to a vacant booth. “Well. You're just the hot ticket. One night only, two seats left with a partially obstructed view.”
When they sat down, Angel immediately asked, “What can you tell me?”
The Host’s brows furrowed. “I can tell you’re all business.”
“She’s in danger,” Angel stressed.
“And, you're feeling pretty guilty about that. Hey, you made an honest mistake. You killed her protector. A lot of guys would have done the same. Of course, now she's going to have to face the Judgment with no champion and that's looking grim for her and the baby.”
Angel ground his teeth. He already knew this, damn it. He had to find her so he could save her. This anagogic, limey, horned – whatever he was, wasn’t helping. “Tell me where they are,” he demanded.
The Host was taken aback slightly by Angel’s no nonsense tone. “Well. Who's a little curt? Who's a little curt Jürgens in The Enemy Below? The Tribunal will be wherever she is. She can't escape it.”
Angel waited for the green demon to continue and then asked impatiently, “Where is she?”
The Host leaned closer. “My question first and answer true, because you know I'll know. Why Mandy?”
Angel was afraid of this. This was another reason he never sung in public. It’s embarrassing. Not to mention the fact that Spike saw, heard, and would never 1et him live it down for another hundred years or more.
“Well, I-I know the words,” he said softly. He leaned closer and whispered, “I kind of think . . . . It's pretty.”
Spike hooted with laughter from across the room. He had heard every word. When Angel said
Mandy was pretty, he nearly fell out of his chair. Angel’s forehead hit the table. This would haunt him for the rest of his days.
The Host smiled. “And it is, you great big sap! There’s not a destroyer of worlds that can argue with Manilow. Good for you for fessing up. She’ll be at Fourth and Spring. The Trial will be there.”
“Trial? How does it work?” Angel inquired.
The Host shook his head. “I can only tell you what I tell you. The rest is up to you.”
Angel stood up to leave, but tried to ask again. “Can I save her?”
“Try and find out,” the Host answered. When Angel started to leave, the Host grabbed onto his sleeve, causing Angel to look back at him. The Host looked over at Spike and back at Angel. “He cares for you more than he realizes.”
“How do you know? I thought you can only read people when they sing?” Angel asked.
“I channel surf sometimes. But, that devilishly handsome prince,” the Host pointed in the direction of Spike. Angel glanced over to see his childe look at him with amusement in his eyes. Yep, Spike will not forget this night for centuries. The Host continued, “Is your mirror image. Everything you do is reflected in him. You must have really wanted him enough to sire him and make him a favored childe. Whatever your grievances, now’s your second chance to make things right again.” The Host got up with his drink in hand. “He’ll follow you anywhere,” the green demon said before leaving Angel and Spike to stare at each other.
**************************
Los Angeles, Fourth and Spring
The pregnant woman hurried down a nearly deserted street, one hand holding her rounded belly. Suddenly, three stone thrones occupied by dark robed figures rose out of the ground behind her. A horse whinnied and a knight in armor rode up the street towards them. When he was close enough, the knight threw down a bronze talisman and then dismounted from the horse.
One of the Judges acknowledged the challenge and looked down on the pregnant woman. “Where is your champion?”
The woman turned her frightened eyes from the knight to the Judge. “He’s—he’s dead.”
“You have no coat-of-arms and no champion?” the Judge intoned.
“I ask for asylum,” the woman pleaded.
“Asylum is not ours to give. Two are chosen to meet in combat. One can save your life. One can take it. This is the ancient law. Your life is forfeit. You have no champion,” the Judge explained.
The Judge nodded to the knight in silent assent. The knight pulled his sword as the woman backed away. Just then, a second bronze talisman landed on top of the first.
“Yes, she does,” Angel said, walking to the center.
Spike hung back as per his Sire request in this matter. The woman needed one champion, not two of them. Besides, this wasn’t Spike’s mission, it was Angel’s, and he was just along for the ride. Remembering their years together, he knew his Sire was an accomplished swordsman, but Angel hadn’t ridden a horse in a century!
The Judge accepted the new challenger and stated, “The trial by combat will begin.”
Spike fell into step with Angel as he walked to the horse waiting for him. The pregnant woman caught up with them. “I really appreciate you coming through for us like this. But, you know how you’re not really good at anything? Are you sure you can do this?”
Angel glanced at her. “I grew up around horses.”
For a vampire who’s supposed to be disease-free, Spike developed a hacking cough.
Angel glared at him.
“Angel, when was the last time you rode a horse?” Spike asked as he looked at the beast.
“It's been a while. Don't worry. It's not something you forget. I can do this,” Angel said.
The woman stepped to the side of the road as Spike offered, “Maybe I should do it?”
Angel glanced over at Spike and perused from top to bottom and back skeptically. “The last time you rode a horse it threw you over its head and you broke your neck!”
Spike’s brows furrowed in indignation. “How was I supposed to know he was touchy about having his mate's name put through the ringer?”
Angel looked at Spike like he’d grown a second head. “It was a mare and you were shouting insults at her for a half hour. What was she supposed to think?”
“Well I was drunk!” Spike said in his defense.
“And, whose fault was that?” Angel shot back.
When Spike looked like he was on the verge of blaming him, Angel held his hand over his childe’s mouth. “Don’t. Say. It.”
Angel felt Spike’s lips part against his hand and then the blonde’s tongue slowly licked across his palm, drawing a small moan from him. Angel removed his hand and whipped it on his pants as Spike smirked, complete with tucking his tongue behind his teeth. The vampires parted ways: Spike joined the woman on the side of the road and Angel went up to the horse.
“Nice horse,” he said as he became familiar with the equine and whispered in its ear, “Try not to make me look stupid out there, okay?” When the horse didn’t make a sound, Angel took that as a confirmation. “Alright.”
Angel mounted the horse and took up the shield and lance. He spared a last glance in Spike’s direction before the Judge dropped a red cloth and the knight charged.
“I guess that means go.” Angel kneed the horse into action. They charged and clashed, but though the demon was knocked backward, he stayed in the saddle. The opponents turned and charged at each other again. The demon’s lance knocked Angel clear off his horse, landing him on his back on the pavement. Angel picked himself up and hurried to his horse to get his sword and mace while the other knight dropped his lance, pulled his sword and rode at him.
Angel knocked the demon knight out of the saddle with one blow and they continued to fight in hand-to-hand combat. After a few maneuvers, the knight turned Angel's sword so that Angel stabbed himself through the gut. Angel dropped down onto his knees and one hand, the other clutching the sword. The demon knight turned towards the Tribunal.
“The champion is defeated. She and all her issue are yours,” the Judge decreed.
The demon drew a knife and moved to slit the woman's throat as Angel got to his feet and pulled the sword from his body.
“I move to appeal that ruling,” Angel told the Tribunal just before he beheaded the demon with one clean sweep of his sword. He dropped the sword and stood there, panting. “She's safe now, right?”
“You have won. She is under our protection, as is her daughter until she comes of age,” the Judge revised. With that, the Tribunal vanished as if had never been.
The woman turned to look at Angel. “Are you okay?”
As Spike came up beside him, Angel stood straight and, still panting, limped off the street with the aid of his childe. “Yeah.”
“You sure seem to bleed a lot,” she commented as she walked beside him.
“It's part of the job,” Angel replied.
“’M not so sure redemption’s worth a sword in the gut, though,” Spike said.
Angel looked him and then started limping home again.
**************************
Los Angeles, Cordelia’s Apartment
At Cordelia’s apartment, Spike took down the dry-erase board. He and Angel talked about his redemption and about how they were going about it by keeping a tally. Spike, as a soulless demon didn’t much care for the word let alone the act. Nevertheless, it meant something deeply to Angel, so he was the one that brought up the suggestion that maybe it wasn’t about keeping a karmic tally sheet, and hoping the next case was the one that got him his reward.
“You’ve let the Powers That Be fuck with your head too long. You see everything as if it’s out of your reach and if you take one misstep, you’ll lose it. Including me. I told you with the claims in place, I wasn’t going anywhere,” Spike said.
“And, what if the claims weren’t there? Would you still be around?” Angel asked.
“Angel, it’s been nearly 130 years. If you haven’t gotten rid of me after all this time, then I doubt I would have gone too far away and not come around to shadow you from time to time,” Spike answered.
“I can just imagine that. You would, too! You’d never give me a moment’s peace – kind of like now,” Angel mused.
“Angel, I’m trying to make a serious point here, which is odd for me, since I could care less about this redemption gig of yours. But, if you want to go this route, then stop playing the PTB’s game and make up some new rules. Don’t do it because it’ll balance your karma with them. Do it because it’s fulfilling to you,” Spike explained.
“What about Cordy’s visions?” Angel asked.
“I’m not saying to ignore them. I’m telling you to stop treating it like it’s a chore and do it because it’s something you want. You’re like the Slayer in a way. You have this awesome calling and you have the option to treat it like an unpleasant task, or change the aspect and turn it into something you want to do. Bloody hell, why am I the one to give you a pep talk on your redemption?” Spike snorted in disgust, giving Angel a sour look. “You need to lighten up, find some joy in what you are doing.”
Now, here they were with Angel nursing his wounds and Spike removing their karmic tally sheet. Wesley and Cordelia stared between the vampires, wondering what had happened during that joust or after it.
Wesley looked from Spike to Angel, and then he thought for a moment. “Good idea. Start over with a fresh slate.”
Angel touched the tender skin around the healing wound. “Actually, we're starting over with no slate.”
Wesley’s eyes widened. “Of course, we shouldn't be keeping score. We're not running a race; we're doing a job – one soul at a time.”
“We?” Spike squeaked.
“Well, you have helped us these past couple of months,” Wesley pointed out.
“Angggeeeelll!” Spike whined.
“Don’t let it get to you, Spike. You’re still the Big Bad, you just need to get out of the house,” Angel said and then turned to his friends, “You guys hold the fort. We've got somewhere to be.”
Once they were outside the apartment, Spike got curious. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” Angel said cryptically.
**************************
Stockton, California, Northern California Women's Facility
Angel and Spike waited on one side of a prison visitor’s booth while Faith was lead through the checkpoints to their cubicle. Once she was seated and picked up the receiver, Angel picked up the phone on his end.
“Hey,” Angel greeted quietly.
“Hey. I see you brought company,” Faith commented.
“Yeah. How are you doing?” Angel inquired.
“Pretty good, I guess. I did sign up for this,” Faith replied.
“Regretting the choice?” Angel asked.
“Bad day. One of the girls in the yard tried to build a rep by throwing down with me. She had low self esteem, and a home-made knife, so . . .”
“Oh. Is she . . . you know . . . alive?” Angel asked, concerned.
Faith nodded. “She lives to tell the tale. Took the knife away . . . and I can't say much for the wrist it came in.”
Angel breathed a sigh of relief. “So you didn't kill her.”
“I really wanted to. I took a big beating from the guards, too,” Faith confessed.
“Sorry,” Angel said empathetically.
“I’ve earned worse. Guys like us kind of got it coming,” Faith said sadly.
Spike couldn’t take this anymore. He grabbed the phone from Angel and elbowed him out of the way. “Hey, luv, you think you have it bad? You’ve never heard the ponce sing. He sang Barry Manilow, and it was worse than a couple of screeching cats.”
As Angel tried to bury his face in his hands from the embarrassment, Faith smiled. “You're kidding.”
Spike shook his head and looked back at Angel. “Couldn’t be more serious, and he did it in front of other people!”
Faith stifled a laugh. “Here I am talking about my petty little problems.”
Angel grabbed the phone away from his errant childe and said, “Just wanted to give you a little perspective.”
“Was it Copacabana?” Faith asked.
Angel elbowed Spike in the ribs when the blonde started chuckling. “Mandy.” That brought another fit of chuckles from beside him. He winced. “I don't want to dwell on it.”
When Spike tried to speak, Angel covered his mouth and it came out "E thind it'b britty (pretty)”
Angel rolled his eyes in apology, but his lips quirked up in a smile.
Faith smiled. “The road to redemption is a rocky path.”
“That it is,” Angel agreed taking his hand away from Spike.
“You think we might make it?" Faith asked solemnly.
“We might.” Angel said as he glanced over at Spike, remembering what his childe told him earlier about changing the game. “Is the food getting any better?”
Faith looked over her shoulder and then leaned on the table. “You know, it's not that different from what I grew up on. It's a little one note; eating the same thing every day.”
Angel thought about it. “I wonder what that's like.”
“Right. . .” Faith smirked.
**************************
Stockton, California, Northern California Women's Facility
Spike and Angel left the prison, walking out to the car with purpose. Their backs and shoulders straightened as they fell into step with each other. They were a contrast, one dark, one light, but both deadly predators. Well, Spike was a deadly predator; Angel was a tame puppy. That thought brought a smug expression to the blonde’s face. They were silent until they got into the car.
That’s when Spike covered Angel’s hand on the gear shift and looked over at him. “Remember the little pep talk I gave you earlier about changing the game?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, look at this way; you started to change the game when you saved her and you didn’t have the PTB to guide you on that. I don’t have a soul, Angel, but I can see and feel yours through the link. You told me once that you didn’t save lives you saved souls and Faith is a good example of that. Maybe, Wes was right, this is your job now, saving one soul at a time,” Spike said.
While Angel reflected on that, Spike slapped his hand. “Now, when are we going to get a new home? I can’t stay on that sofa bed forever or I will leave you for the Mansion back in Sunny-D.”
Angel’s lips quirked up. “I think I found the perfect place.” |
