Dirty Back Road Sequel, Part 11
Dec. 8th, 2004 01:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thedeadlyhookAngel explaineth more. Previous chapters here.
Chapter Eleven
For a second, Buffy wondered if she'd actually hallucinated what Angel had said. "What did you just say?"
"Funny," Spike said. "That was my reaction too."
This took some time to sink in as well. "You didn't tell him?"
"You mean, did he mention it before we marched off to a battle where we were more than likely to lose our heads?" Spike snorted. "Uh, that would be a no."
"There wasn't time." Angel shot Spike a warning glare.
"Right. You couldn't have squeezed it into your 'live this day like your last' speech or anything."
"Stop." Buffy held up a hand. "You--you were--" Live this day like your last. She couldn't say it.
They both could have died.
It made no sense. If Spike was really some champion of destiny, then why would Angel--?
Did he want them both to die? Was that it? This Wolfy Heart he kept talking about--was that his revenge? Had he just wanted to take Spike down with him?
Would he do that?
"It was just a fail-safe, Buffy," Angel said gently, reassuring. "We weren't in any real danger. The Senior Partners won't dare risk anything happening to their champion."
"Not the way I remember it," Spike said.
"Why do you think we both survived?"
"Well, maybe that was divine intervention for you. I had to hold up my end of a genuine fists-and-fangs brawl, thank you very much."
Buffy kept trying to make sense of things, kept failing. "You could have both been killed," she managed.
"Say, did he mention the part yet where it's only my head that's on the chopping block? That nothing happens to him if something comes after me?" Spike said mildly. He stirred the last dregs in his mug with one finger, popped the finger in his mouth, licked the last of the blood off.
Buffy face contorted. "What?"
Angel sighed. "I did what I had to, Buffy. The moment I signed away that prophecy, I was expendable. A redundant employee. If I hadn't done that bonding spell, the Senior Partners would have killed me."
"So you make it so you can't be killed but Spike can?" Buffy scoffed. "Gee, that sounds fair."
"This isn't about what's fair."
"Got that right," Spike chimed in.
Angel's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you explain this to her?" he snapped at Spike. "You're in this just as much as I am."
"Right," Spike sneered. "I'm destiny's bitch."
Buffy pressed her hands to her temples. "I just--I don't understand this! Angel, how could you do this? How could you?"
Angel looked at her. "Because for years and years, I fought for redemption, and then my destiny got pulled out from under me and given to some other guy." He pointed at Spike. "And you know what? I'm just a little pissed off about it. So instead of lying down and dying like a good little soulful noble vamp, I did something about it. And hey, maybe it's a little pointless and petty, but at least I got to stick it to the Senior Partners and their Chosen Champion, and boy I gotta tell you--it felt good." He jerked a thumb at his chest. "That's my motivation."
Buffy gaped at him, face white and shocked. Angel relented, his intense expression fading, the stiff set going out of his shoulders.
"It's a confidence game, Buffy," he said gently.
"A con job," Spike clarified. "Like those caper movies with blokes in tuxes who rob casinos."
Buffy cleared her throat. Her mouth was terribly dry and the shocks of the last few minutes had left her feeling drained. "So you're saying this is all an act?" she said faintly.
"More or less," Angel and Spike exchanged looks. "Nobody who knows us or our history would expect us to get along, anyway. And as long as the Senior Partners and the rest of the demon underworld think we're at each other's throats, we can find out things about Wolfram & Hart--their enemies, their allies. And we can play them against each other."
"My character's feeling a mite cheated," Spike said, examining his nails. "Fought for his destiny, earned it fair and square, only to have this joker decide no-one's gonna pry it out of his cold, dead hands."
"Save it," Angel snarled, then returned to talking to Buffy. "Long story short, I go around bragging to everyone who'll listen that I've got the Senior Partners right where I want them--"
"--while I'm talking to every shaman, witch, or demon I can find about getting this bleeding spell taken off. Because I want to captain my own destiny," Spike finished, and flashed a tight grin. "I usually call Angel a lot of names. That part's fun."
Buffy stood. She felt faint--she hadn't eaten in hours, and hadn't even realized how weak she felt until she was on her feet. The blood rushing away from her head suddenly made her vision go light. "I-I need to get something to eat."
"Of course, go right ahead, we'll wait here," Angel said. He looked concerned. "Do you, uh, need any help, or...?
"No, I got it," she mumbled and started to head for the kitchen.
"Um, pet?"
She turned. Spike held up the empty plastic bottle, shook it. "Was there some more of this?"
"Oh. Yeah." She crossed back to the couch, took the empty jug from his hand.
"I could go for a glass of that too," Angel said. "Or maybe, some coffee?"
Buffy frowned, but said nothing. Turned and drifted into the kitchen on autopilot.
__________
When she re-emerged a few mintues later, fortified by a bowl of fruit and a hastily chugged half carton of milk, the two of them were talking quietly. Angel was sitting on the edge of the couch; Spike had his head leaned back on folded arms, eyes closed. It was a strangely comfortable picture, and she scowled at it internally.
It didn't feel right that the two of them should be comfortable with each other. She was beginning to understand why this scheme of theirs was built the way it was.
She marched up to them, handed Spike the plastic blood bottle and thrust a mug of coffee into Angel's hand.
"When were you planning to tell me about this?" she demanded. "If this whole thing with Spike getting trapped hadn't happened, were you ever gonna say anything?"
Spike shifted on the couch. Angel drained his coffee, put the mug down on the table.
"We weren't," Angel said, folding his hands together, his elbows resting on his knees. "We thought it would be better--"
"That I not know? You thought that was better?" Buffy huffed. She felt stronger now, and Angel's entire attitude was beginning to really grate. He was making decisions for her again. Deciding what was best for her without even asking, and lo and behold, it looked like he was starting to do it for Spike, too.
Well, she had something to say about that.
"So let me see if I get this straight. Spike's some kind of special prophecy boy for the apocalypse." She held up one finger. "There's these evil lawyers who want to kill you, but won't, because they need Spike." A second finger. "And the two of you are just trying to confuse the hell out of them so they'll... what? Cry uncle? That's your plan?"
"Something like that, yeah." Angel sighed. "An old... friend of mine once told me that you should never play somebody else's game. That you have to make them play yours."
"And this is your game," Buffy said. "You're in charge."
"That's right. I am." He folded his arms, and his expression grew opaque. "And it's working, Buffy. Anyone who wants a piece of the apocalypse knows by now that everything is up for grabs--it's a power gold rush. Those that want to stand with the Senior Partners can't kiss Spike's ass hard enough. They're falling all over themselves trying to find a way to solve his little problem. Meanwhile, I've been approached by more than a few demons who woudn't mind seeing the Senior Partners taken down a peg or two, if not booted off this plane completely. We're making the demon world pick sides."
"And nobody's trying to kill either one of you?" she said sarcastically. "Because that'd be one way to solve the whole picking sides problem."
"Yeah, well. There is that." He shrugged. "It's a risk. It's in the Senior Partners' interest to protect us right now, but that doesn't mean they're not trying anything to get around this spell themselves, or that nobody wants to kill us just to piss them off, but we've managed to keep one step ahead of the biggest threats so far. Helps that we have information from both sides." He gestured at Spike. "Although if the underworld knew we were talking to each other, that might change things. Coming here tonight was a gamble. The fallout might not be pretty."
"And all this goes on until when? The apocalypse happens?"
"More or less," Angel sighed. "Or until the Senior Partners show their faces."
"Great. So your little cloak and dagger mission goes on forever." Or until both of you die. "That's just great." She began to pace.
Spike angled his head to study her. Angel leaned back against the couch, let his hands fall limply to his sides, frowned at her.
"Well, go ahead, spit it out," he said to Buffy. "This is kind of a one-time only deal, so if you've got any more questions, you'd better ask now. What's really bothering you?"
"What makes you think I'm bothered?" Buffy laughed, still pacing. "Just because the two of you are out there playing Russian Roulette with every demon in this dimension, why would that possibly bother me?"
"Um, actually, some of the demons I've met come from other dimensions," Spike offered. "Wolfram & Hart's pretty big time outside this plane." Buffy shot him a worried look.
"It's not that bad, Buffy, believe me," Angel said hurriedly. "Most demons won't lay a finger on either of us because they're afraid of the Senior Partners."
"Yeah, it's getting pretty hard to get into a good fight these days. In demon bars they treat me like the Dalai Lama," Spike agreed, then knit his forehead. "Well, not the human one--they'd eat him for dinner. But something like that, with the nonviolence. If there was such a thing. For demons." He made a fist, began studying his knuckles quietly.
"Spike's probably more of a danger to himself than most demons," Angel said, and reached over to cuff the smaller vampire on the back of the head.
"Hey! Watch it."
Angel paused, looked at Buffy again, considered. "Look. Buffy. Don't take this the wrong way, but... we really can't afford to have you involved in this."
She stopped pacing. "Why? You keep saying it, but you never say why."
"It's like this." Angel pointed at Spike. "As much as the very idea makes me want to run screaming, a good part of the fate of the world depends on this guy. Who's not exactly known for being the picture of good planning or judgment to start with. Being around you probably doesn't help. Case in point--what happened here tonight."
"That wasn't his fault," Buffy muttered, feeling the need to defend Spike somehow. Then frowned, realizing that instead she'd just implicated herself.
"Are you saying that I'm a distraction?" she said. "Wow, thanks, Angel. That's not at all demeaning. Why don'tcha follow that up by insulting my hair or telling me I'm fat?"
"That's not what I'm--" He blew out an irritated sigh. "Look, even if being around you didn't turn Spike into an amnesiac, you'd still be jeopardizing our position."
"Why?" Buffy said, her voice low and dangerous. "You think I can't take care of myself?"
"You're not invincible, Buffy. If any of our enemies thought they could get to us through you, they'd do it. You being a Slayer is only going to keep them away for so long. All they'd need to see is the smallest weakness from you and we'd end up getting your fingers in the mail."
Buffy's stomach lurched. "Well, to hear you talk, you'd think I hadn't had demons try to kill me for years. Including the two of you. And yet, here I am."
"There's Dawn to think of," Spike said quietly. "Don't much want to see her get kidnapped, tortured. Girl's a magnet for that sort of thing."
"You're a weapon that could be used against us, Buffy."
"I'm also a Slayer," she said. "I've protected Dawn, I've protected you--both of you--and I-I could... I could help you." She was breathing heavily. Her emotions were getting wound up, intense. "I could get the Council to--"
"The Council won't want to help us," Spike cut in. "We're demons, remember? Dealing with other demons. Since when do they care about that?"
"They'd care because I said so."
"Never mind, Buffy, we're not calling the Council," Angel said shortly. "I've tried calling them for help before. They're not interested."
"Plus there's the matter of us being bad guys in their universe," Spike added. "Might blow our cover a little if we started getting too much help from do-gooding Slayers."
She turned, looked at him. "But it doesn't blow your cover to be seen with me."
Spike hesitated, and their earlier conversation rushed back to her. Most of the demon underworld's already heard about you and me. Her cheeks pinkened.
Angel cleared his throat delicately. "Ah... the common opinion is that there's another reason why you'd, uh--"
"Skip it," she said hoarsely. "I get the picture. So how are you gonna explain tonight, if anyone's seen us? Hot threesome?"
The silence was suddenly deafening. Both men were suddenly very interested in studying the details of the apartment walls. Her eyes nearly bugged out. "Excuse me?"
"It doesn't matter, Buffy." Angel's voice sounded a little strained. "It's not going to be a problem because you're not going to be involved. We're both going to leave here tonight and your life can go back to normal."
She gasped. Turned to stare at Spike. He was sitting quietly, drinking his blood. The fall of curls over his forehead made him look absurdly little-boyish.
Angel kept talking. "This place isn't secure enough, and the longer we stay here, the bigger the risk to you."
"I'll take my chances." She couldn't take her eyes off Spike.
Angel sighed. "Don't get sentimental, Buffy. We can't afford it right now."
She turned back to him. "Sentimental?" she husked. Angel's calm voice was hitting Buffy in all the wrong ways, making her feel like a hysterical child being talked down to. "Oh. Now I get it. This is about you not approving of Spike being with me."
"Can't say I'm crazy about it, but no. That's not it," Angel said sharply. "We both walked right into your apartment tonight, Buffy. Did you even notice that, that neither one of us needed an invitation?"
Buffy's eyes widened. Oh. "Andrew invited you," she whispered, and let out a small laugh. "I-I didn't even--" I didn't even think of the two of you as vampires, she realized she was about to say, knowing even as she thought of it how ridiculous that was. She'd been looking right at Spike's vampire face at its most ferocious mere hours before, had been heating up blood in her kitchen. I didn't think of you like... other vampires, her mind amended. The two of you are just... you.
"You're off your game, Buffy," Angel said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming you for anything, but I think you can see my point that we can't afford to take that kind of chance."
His indifference stung worse than she ever could have expected. "So I'm--" She laughed. "You don't care about my love life, or me, apparently, now that I'm too old and slow." Her eyes watered. "Well, you know something? I'm not old, and I'm not slow, and you don't get to make those kinds of decisions for me."
"I didn't make them for you," Angel said. "I just made them."
"Oh, but, hey! It's a big coincidence that you get to say what happens in my life.
"He agreed to this too." Angel pointed at Spike. "So before you get to feeling too sorry for yourself, or your poor little Spikey-wikey, try to remember that. He's not being forced into anything. Neither are you."
"Except for the spell," Spike spoke up. "Didn't agree to that."
"Executive decision."
Spike flipped Angel two fingers. "And stop badgering her, you prat."
"She doesn't need you to defend her honor."
"What I need is the both of you to stop treating me like I'm not a part of this!" Buffy insisted. She was starting to get mad now. "You're not the boss here, Angel. You don't get to decide for all of us."
"Actually, as a matter of fact, I do." Angel stretched out an arm along the back of the couch. "You had my destiny in your hands when I gave you that amulet. You gave it to Spike, and when he used it, he had power over yours. Now I've got power over his. Sometimes all you can do is put your fate in the hands of other people. You don't always get a choice."
"No," she said shortly. "You're wrong. We can make our own destinies for ourselves. I know. I've done it."
"You've done it for others. Not yourself. You were destined to die at sixteen, Buffy. You did. You didn't bring yourself back."
This made her go still. Angel just shook his head, smiled like he'd been told a good joke. Stood.
"Well, that's about it," he said. "That's all I've got to tell. And unless you've got something else to say to me, I'll be waiting in the car." He walked to the doorway, paused.
"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said softly. And then he was gone.
Chapter Eleven
For a second, Buffy wondered if she'd actually hallucinated what Angel had said. "What did you just say?"
"Funny," Spike said. "That was my reaction too."
This took some time to sink in as well. "You didn't tell him?"
"You mean, did he mention it before we marched off to a battle where we were more than likely to lose our heads?" Spike snorted. "Uh, that would be a no."
"There wasn't time." Angel shot Spike a warning glare.
"Right. You couldn't have squeezed it into your 'live this day like your last' speech or anything."
"Stop." Buffy held up a hand. "You--you were--" Live this day like your last. She couldn't say it.
They both could have died.
It made no sense. If Spike was really some champion of destiny, then why would Angel--?
Did he want them both to die? Was that it? This Wolfy Heart he kept talking about--was that his revenge? Had he just wanted to take Spike down with him?
Would he do that?
"It was just a fail-safe, Buffy," Angel said gently, reassuring. "We weren't in any real danger. The Senior Partners won't dare risk anything happening to their champion."
"Not the way I remember it," Spike said.
"Why do you think we both survived?"
"Well, maybe that was divine intervention for you. I had to hold up my end of a genuine fists-and-fangs brawl, thank you very much."
Buffy kept trying to make sense of things, kept failing. "You could have both been killed," she managed.
"Say, did he mention the part yet where it's only my head that's on the chopping block? That nothing happens to him if something comes after me?" Spike said mildly. He stirred the last dregs in his mug with one finger, popped the finger in his mouth, licked the last of the blood off.
Buffy face contorted. "What?"
Angel sighed. "I did what I had to, Buffy. The moment I signed away that prophecy, I was expendable. A redundant employee. If I hadn't done that bonding spell, the Senior Partners would have killed me."
"So you make it so you can't be killed but Spike can?" Buffy scoffed. "Gee, that sounds fair."
"This isn't about what's fair."
"Got that right," Spike chimed in.
Angel's eyes narrowed. "Why don't you explain this to her?" he snapped at Spike. "You're in this just as much as I am."
"Right," Spike sneered. "I'm destiny's bitch."
Buffy pressed her hands to her temples. "I just--I don't understand this! Angel, how could you do this? How could you?"
Angel looked at her. "Because for years and years, I fought for redemption, and then my destiny got pulled out from under me and given to some other guy." He pointed at Spike. "And you know what? I'm just a little pissed off about it. So instead of lying down and dying like a good little soulful noble vamp, I did something about it. And hey, maybe it's a little pointless and petty, but at least I got to stick it to the Senior Partners and their Chosen Champion, and boy I gotta tell you--it felt good." He jerked a thumb at his chest. "That's my motivation."
Buffy gaped at him, face white and shocked. Angel relented, his intense expression fading, the stiff set going out of his shoulders.
"It's a confidence game, Buffy," he said gently.
"A con job," Spike clarified. "Like those caper movies with blokes in tuxes who rob casinos."
Buffy cleared her throat. Her mouth was terribly dry and the shocks of the last few minutes had left her feeling drained. "So you're saying this is all an act?" she said faintly.
"More or less," Angel and Spike exchanged looks. "Nobody who knows us or our history would expect us to get along, anyway. And as long as the Senior Partners and the rest of the demon underworld think we're at each other's throats, we can find out things about Wolfram & Hart--their enemies, their allies. And we can play them against each other."
"My character's feeling a mite cheated," Spike said, examining his nails. "Fought for his destiny, earned it fair and square, only to have this joker decide no-one's gonna pry it out of his cold, dead hands."
"Save it," Angel snarled, then returned to talking to Buffy. "Long story short, I go around bragging to everyone who'll listen that I've got the Senior Partners right where I want them--"
"--while I'm talking to every shaman, witch, or demon I can find about getting this bleeding spell taken off. Because I want to captain my own destiny," Spike finished, and flashed a tight grin. "I usually call Angel a lot of names. That part's fun."
Buffy stood. She felt faint--she hadn't eaten in hours, and hadn't even realized how weak she felt until she was on her feet. The blood rushing away from her head suddenly made her vision go light. "I-I need to get something to eat."
"Of course, go right ahead, we'll wait here," Angel said. He looked concerned. "Do you, uh, need any help, or...?
"No, I got it," she mumbled and started to head for the kitchen.
"Um, pet?"
She turned. Spike held up the empty plastic bottle, shook it. "Was there some more of this?"
"Oh. Yeah." She crossed back to the couch, took the empty jug from his hand.
"I could go for a glass of that too," Angel said. "Or maybe, some coffee?"
Buffy frowned, but said nothing. Turned and drifted into the kitchen on autopilot.
__________
When she re-emerged a few mintues later, fortified by a bowl of fruit and a hastily chugged half carton of milk, the two of them were talking quietly. Angel was sitting on the edge of the couch; Spike had his head leaned back on folded arms, eyes closed. It was a strangely comfortable picture, and she scowled at it internally.
It didn't feel right that the two of them should be comfortable with each other. She was beginning to understand why this scheme of theirs was built the way it was.
She marched up to them, handed Spike the plastic blood bottle and thrust a mug of coffee into Angel's hand.
"When were you planning to tell me about this?" she demanded. "If this whole thing with Spike getting trapped hadn't happened, were you ever gonna say anything?"
Spike shifted on the couch. Angel drained his coffee, put the mug down on the table.
"We weren't," Angel said, folding his hands together, his elbows resting on his knees. "We thought it would be better--"
"That I not know? You thought that was better?" Buffy huffed. She felt stronger now, and Angel's entire attitude was beginning to really grate. He was making decisions for her again. Deciding what was best for her without even asking, and lo and behold, it looked like he was starting to do it for Spike, too.
Well, she had something to say about that.
"So let me see if I get this straight. Spike's some kind of special prophecy boy for the apocalypse." She held up one finger. "There's these evil lawyers who want to kill you, but won't, because they need Spike." A second finger. "And the two of you are just trying to confuse the hell out of them so they'll... what? Cry uncle? That's your plan?"
"Something like that, yeah." Angel sighed. "An old... friend of mine once told me that you should never play somebody else's game. That you have to make them play yours."
"And this is your game," Buffy said. "You're in charge."
"That's right. I am." He folded his arms, and his expression grew opaque. "And it's working, Buffy. Anyone who wants a piece of the apocalypse knows by now that everything is up for grabs--it's a power gold rush. Those that want to stand with the Senior Partners can't kiss Spike's ass hard enough. They're falling all over themselves trying to find a way to solve his little problem. Meanwhile, I've been approached by more than a few demons who woudn't mind seeing the Senior Partners taken down a peg or two, if not booted off this plane completely. We're making the demon world pick sides."
"And nobody's trying to kill either one of you?" she said sarcastically. "Because that'd be one way to solve the whole picking sides problem."
"Yeah, well. There is that." He shrugged. "It's a risk. It's in the Senior Partners' interest to protect us right now, but that doesn't mean they're not trying anything to get around this spell themselves, or that nobody wants to kill us just to piss them off, but we've managed to keep one step ahead of the biggest threats so far. Helps that we have information from both sides." He gestured at Spike. "Although if the underworld knew we were talking to each other, that might change things. Coming here tonight was a gamble. The fallout might not be pretty."
"And all this goes on until when? The apocalypse happens?"
"More or less," Angel sighed. "Or until the Senior Partners show their faces."
"Great. So your little cloak and dagger mission goes on forever." Or until both of you die. "That's just great." She began to pace.
Spike angled his head to study her. Angel leaned back against the couch, let his hands fall limply to his sides, frowned at her.
"Well, go ahead, spit it out," he said to Buffy. "This is kind of a one-time only deal, so if you've got any more questions, you'd better ask now. What's really bothering you?"
"What makes you think I'm bothered?" Buffy laughed, still pacing. "Just because the two of you are out there playing Russian Roulette with every demon in this dimension, why would that possibly bother me?"
"Um, actually, some of the demons I've met come from other dimensions," Spike offered. "Wolfram & Hart's pretty big time outside this plane." Buffy shot him a worried look.
"It's not that bad, Buffy, believe me," Angel said hurriedly. "Most demons won't lay a finger on either of us because they're afraid of the Senior Partners."
"Yeah, it's getting pretty hard to get into a good fight these days. In demon bars they treat me like the Dalai Lama," Spike agreed, then knit his forehead. "Well, not the human one--they'd eat him for dinner. But something like that, with the nonviolence. If there was such a thing. For demons." He made a fist, began studying his knuckles quietly.
"Spike's probably more of a danger to himself than most demons," Angel said, and reached over to cuff the smaller vampire on the back of the head.
"Hey! Watch it."
Angel paused, looked at Buffy again, considered. "Look. Buffy. Don't take this the wrong way, but... we really can't afford to have you involved in this."
She stopped pacing. "Why? You keep saying it, but you never say why."
"It's like this." Angel pointed at Spike. "As much as the very idea makes me want to run screaming, a good part of the fate of the world depends on this guy. Who's not exactly known for being the picture of good planning or judgment to start with. Being around you probably doesn't help. Case in point--what happened here tonight."
"That wasn't his fault," Buffy muttered, feeling the need to defend Spike somehow. Then frowned, realizing that instead she'd just implicated herself.
"Are you saying that I'm a distraction?" she said. "Wow, thanks, Angel. That's not at all demeaning. Why don'tcha follow that up by insulting my hair or telling me I'm fat?"
"That's not what I'm--" He blew out an irritated sigh. "Look, even if being around you didn't turn Spike into an amnesiac, you'd still be jeopardizing our position."
"Why?" Buffy said, her voice low and dangerous. "You think I can't take care of myself?"
"You're not invincible, Buffy. If any of our enemies thought they could get to us through you, they'd do it. You being a Slayer is only going to keep them away for so long. All they'd need to see is the smallest weakness from you and we'd end up getting your fingers in the mail."
Buffy's stomach lurched. "Well, to hear you talk, you'd think I hadn't had demons try to kill me for years. Including the two of you. And yet, here I am."
"There's Dawn to think of," Spike said quietly. "Don't much want to see her get kidnapped, tortured. Girl's a magnet for that sort of thing."
"You're a weapon that could be used against us, Buffy."
"I'm also a Slayer," she said. "I've protected Dawn, I've protected you--both of you--and I-I could... I could help you." She was breathing heavily. Her emotions were getting wound up, intense. "I could get the Council to--"
"The Council won't want to help us," Spike cut in. "We're demons, remember? Dealing with other demons. Since when do they care about that?"
"They'd care because I said so."
"Never mind, Buffy, we're not calling the Council," Angel said shortly. "I've tried calling them for help before. They're not interested."
"Plus there's the matter of us being bad guys in their universe," Spike added. "Might blow our cover a little if we started getting too much help from do-gooding Slayers."
She turned, looked at him. "But it doesn't blow your cover to be seen with me."
Spike hesitated, and their earlier conversation rushed back to her. Most of the demon underworld's already heard about you and me. Her cheeks pinkened.
Angel cleared his throat delicately. "Ah... the common opinion is that there's another reason why you'd, uh--"
"Skip it," she said hoarsely. "I get the picture. So how are you gonna explain tonight, if anyone's seen us? Hot threesome?"
The silence was suddenly deafening. Both men were suddenly very interested in studying the details of the apartment walls. Her eyes nearly bugged out. "Excuse me?"
"It doesn't matter, Buffy." Angel's voice sounded a little strained. "It's not going to be a problem because you're not going to be involved. We're both going to leave here tonight and your life can go back to normal."
She gasped. Turned to stare at Spike. He was sitting quietly, drinking his blood. The fall of curls over his forehead made him look absurdly little-boyish.
Angel kept talking. "This place isn't secure enough, and the longer we stay here, the bigger the risk to you."
"I'll take my chances." She couldn't take her eyes off Spike.
Angel sighed. "Don't get sentimental, Buffy. We can't afford it right now."
She turned back to him. "Sentimental?" she husked. Angel's calm voice was hitting Buffy in all the wrong ways, making her feel like a hysterical child being talked down to. "Oh. Now I get it. This is about you not approving of Spike being with me."
"Can't say I'm crazy about it, but no. That's not it," Angel said sharply. "We both walked right into your apartment tonight, Buffy. Did you even notice that, that neither one of us needed an invitation?"
Buffy's eyes widened. Oh. "Andrew invited you," she whispered, and let out a small laugh. "I-I didn't even--" I didn't even think of the two of you as vampires, she realized she was about to say, knowing even as she thought of it how ridiculous that was. She'd been looking right at Spike's vampire face at its most ferocious mere hours before, had been heating up blood in her kitchen. I didn't think of you like... other vampires, her mind amended. The two of you are just... you.
"You're off your game, Buffy," Angel said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming you for anything, but I think you can see my point that we can't afford to take that kind of chance."
His indifference stung worse than she ever could have expected. "So I'm--" She laughed. "You don't care about my love life, or me, apparently, now that I'm too old and slow." Her eyes watered. "Well, you know something? I'm not old, and I'm not slow, and you don't get to make those kinds of decisions for me."
"I didn't make them for you," Angel said. "I just made them."
"Oh, but, hey! It's a big coincidence that you get to say what happens in my life.
"He agreed to this too." Angel pointed at Spike. "So before you get to feeling too sorry for yourself, or your poor little Spikey-wikey, try to remember that. He's not being forced into anything. Neither are you."
"Except for the spell," Spike spoke up. "Didn't agree to that."
"Executive decision."
Spike flipped Angel two fingers. "And stop badgering her, you prat."
"She doesn't need you to defend her honor."
"What I need is the both of you to stop treating me like I'm not a part of this!" Buffy insisted. She was starting to get mad now. "You're not the boss here, Angel. You don't get to decide for all of us."
"Actually, as a matter of fact, I do." Angel stretched out an arm along the back of the couch. "You had my destiny in your hands when I gave you that amulet. You gave it to Spike, and when he used it, he had power over yours. Now I've got power over his. Sometimes all you can do is put your fate in the hands of other people. You don't always get a choice."
"No," she said shortly. "You're wrong. We can make our own destinies for ourselves. I know. I've done it."
"You've done it for others. Not yourself. You were destined to die at sixteen, Buffy. You did. You didn't bring yourself back."
This made her go still. Angel just shook his head, smiled like he'd been told a good joke. Stood.
"Well, that's about it," he said. "That's all I've got to tell. And unless you've got something else to say to me, I'll be waiting in the car." He walked to the doorway, paused.
"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said softly. And then he was gone.