October 22, 2005, New York City
Entering a small apartment in the heart of New York City, her arm around Spike to give him support, Faith looked around with horror. No one had occupied said apartment for more than thirty years, and its dirty, decrepit appearance along with its stale, rancid smell certainly gave credence to that fact. A thick coat of dust covered everything from floors to countertop, to the ugly, moldy furniture. Cobwebs decorated the ceiling and walls.
“Jesus!” she swore. “I guess Angelus was going for that vampire-lair look.”
“Fucking‘ell!” Spike was as horrified as Faith. “My crypt in Sunnydale looked and smelled better than this. We‘re not staying here.” He turned and announced this to Angelus, who along with Illyria and Dana was bringing up the rear, lugging supplies in from the camper. “So all of you can just turn yourselves around and go back to the truck. We‘ll find a hotel, preferably the Four Seasons or Soho Grand because I‘m in the mood for some pay-tv movies, massages, and champagne.”
“Stop your bullshit, William,” Angelus growled, as he dumped what was in his arms on the floor. It was his usual rebuke, but it lacked the Angelus’ bite. “This is my home here in New York, and this is where we’ll stay. Now. . . .” He paused momentarily, eyeing the two slayers, the former demon goddess, and his vampire child. “I need to stop by a few of the demon watering holes here, show my face, let people know that I’m back in town. Dana here. . . .” He gave the young slayer an appreciative stare. “Will accompany me, and you.” He turned to Faith, who had her mouth open in objection.
“I suppose I can’t stop you from leaving, but your one and only ally will be with me, and. . . .”
“Dana will not be going with you,” Faith interrupted, as she shot Dana a telling glare. “If you want a backup person, take Illyria because neither Dana nor I will be helping you bolster your bad-ass rep with the locals. We’ll help with Spike’s cure, but that’s all.”
“I’m going with him; I told him I would.” Dana’s attitude was neither defiant nor insubordinate, just matter-of-fact.
“Dana,” Faith started to protest, but Dana had already started toward the door, her intent obvious. “Damnit!” she swore, realizing that her protégé loyalty to her was weak at best.
“We’ll contact the Council tomorrow,” Dana pacified.
“Alright, alright.” Faith threw up her hands in surrender. “But if I have to stay here, at least give me money for some cleaning supplies.” She grimaced in disgust, as she pointedly looked around her dismal surroundings.
Angelus grunted in annoyance, but said nothing, as he abruptly turned and went into a small storage room. A few minutes of rummaging around, he returned with a pack of bills. “Here.” He threw it to Illyria. “Go and buy whatever is needed.”
“I want one.” Spike eyed the packet of money with envy, but Angelus’ generosity was at its end. Grabbing Dana by the arm, he exited the apartment with Spike mumbling after him. “Git.”
**
“Forget it, Spike.” Faith blew out a long breath of air, pushing down the urge to club the vampire over the head. “He’s in pain; he’s in pain,” she silently chanted to herself.
Yes, Spike was in pain, but not enough to keep him from shopping when there was a wad of cash to be spent. The problem was he had no focus on the necessities that were needed: food, cleaning supplies, a few bathroom essentials. He kept nagging about a plasma, big-screen television, an hd dvd player, and numerous video games and dvd movies he wanted.
“We’re not going to drive around New York City looking for an electronic store. We need to go back to the apartment and make it semi-habitable, because you know, we do have to sleep there.”
“Right,” Spike agreed, as he lounged in the back seat of the truck. “Which means, we have to find a mattress shop. I want a new bed to sleep in.”
Faith sighed heavily, sneaking a glance at Illyria, who was seated in the driver’s seat, negotiating the congested New York traffic. She wondered how the former demon goddess was able to put-up with Spike. “There’s no room in the back of the truck for a mattress and box spring. Besides, we’ll all be roughing it, so you can too.”
“Excuse me!” Spike argued. “All of you are not suffering with a bleedin’ poison in your system. Bloody toxin makes my head ache. I need a comfortable place to sleep.”
“It’s late,” Faith bickered back. “By the time, we drop all this crap off. . . .” She waved a hand toward the back of the truck. “There won’t be any time to go back out and do more shopping.”
And so the squabble continued between the two, while Illyria remained silent, managing the unknown streets of America’s largest city.
**
October 23, 2005
Dawn was due to break, and the scraping of the door had Faith immediately alert, as she cracked her eyes, her hands instinctively curling into fists. But it was just Angelus and Dana returning from their night out. Feigning sleep, she couldn’t help but peek a bit, as the two entered quietly with Angelus scooping up a sleeping Spike from a large recliner that had been bought in lieu of a bed (their compromise), and Dana heading for the bathroom. Minutes later the creaking of the ancient box spring and mattress in the apartment’s one bedroom signaled that Angelus had retired for the day. Shortly afterward, Dana exited the bathroom and replaced Spike in the recliner.
A calming peace settled over Faith, as she listened to Illyria’s rhythmic breathing next to her (they had pulled the camper’s queen size mattress to use as their bed) and smelled the disinfectant cleaning liquid which now permeated from all hard surfaces of the apartment. Closing her eyes, sleep overcame her, and it would late morning before she would wake again.
**
Spooned up against his dead-to-the-world Sire, Spike’s senses came alive, as he felt the sun high in the sky and heard footsteps and the unmistakable sounds of people readying themselves to leave. Eyes opening, he wrinkled his nose in disgust at the smell of the moldy mattress beneath him. Briefly, he wondered how the usually fastidious Angelus could sleep on such a bed.
Yawning widely, the quiet noise of the front door opening and closing had him lifting his head briefly. Faith and Dana had left. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad.
“Bloody poison,” he mumbled to himself. “Got me all bollixed-up. Don’t know what’s up and what‘s down anymore.” He paused, as his head dropped back to the pillow. The sensation of Angelus’ body pressed up against his was causing all manner of conflicted feelings.
His Sire was anything but a caring Poof, so this whole concerned-I’m-going-to-find-a-cure for you was knocking Spike for a loop. And what was beginning to become worrisome to him was that he was starting to like having a thoughtful, protective sire. It was something he had always longed for in his younger days.
“Oh, bloody stake me now,” Spike muttered to himself as he did a quarter turn, so he was lying on his back, Angelus’ arm still around him. “I’m becoming poofer than the Poof. Must be because I’m not myself,” he rationalized.
A few more moments of thoughtful contemplation, and Spike decided that it was time to roll out of bed and arouse Illyria. They could play some Warfare, anything to put some distance between him and the body next to him. A body, which was feeling so good, so right.
“Remember, William,” he told himself. “The Poof is a treacherous two-timer, who will drop you as soon as a new playmate catches his fancy. Maybe already has his eye on Psycho Slayer. Right then.” Spike found this idea so disquieting that he felt forced to get up, as he pushed Angel’s arm off of him. “Going to spank Illyria’s arse in Warfare. . . .”
“Spike.” Angelus’ arm tightened around his Childe. “Stop your yammering and go back to sleep.”
Spike opened his mouth to voice numerous protests, but they all died on his lips, as he was pulled back into a strong embrace. Comforting, reassuring, and so familiar.
**
“You what?” Angelus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A Childe, his Childe refusing to drink from him because he wanted to be able to add Weetabix to his blood.
“Almost always add it to my blood, gives it a nice texture,” Spike explained in a rush; he didn’t need Angel offering him his neck a second time. It had taken all his will power to refuse, and he didn’t think he could resist a second offer. To drink from the body of one’s Sire was an intimate act, one that was too much for him to bear, because he knew the offer was just a temporary whim of Angelus. “Isn’t that right, Illyria?” He looked over at the demon goddess, who was opening up a new box of Weetabix for him.
“Ninety percent of the time, yes,” Illyria responded matter-of-factly. Her answer caused Spike to roll his eyes and look upward with a heavy sigh. Nothing like having a female version of Mr. Spock as your side-kick.
“You’ve been keeping the company of too many humans,” Angelus said in disgust. “You’ve taken on too many of their habits. You’re becoming weak, boy!” His voice raised a notch. “As soon as you’re cured, you need to purge yourself and remember just who and what you are.”
“Right.” Spike refrained from another eye roll, as it probably would earn him a club on the head, poison or no poison. His hand twitched, wanting to reach for the television remote because it was time for Passions, but turning on a soap opera now would no doubt send Angelus over the edge.
“And what else are you adding there?” Angelus asked Illyria, as he watched her shake a few spices into Spike’s mug of blood.
“Burba weed and. . . .” Illyria was cut-off by the front door swinging open and two disgruntled slayers dragged themselves in the door.
“Do you have my bloody cure?” Spike didn’t bother with a hello or how did things go.
“No, we don’t have your bloody cure!” Faith threw herself down on the camper’s mattress. “We’ve got bloody squat.”
“What? Didn’t you meet with the Council here?” Spike asked, as he took the mug Illyria handed him.
“We don’t know where the Council is located here in New York,” Dana explained without hesitation or embarrassment. “And we tried to contact Giles and Willow again, but no one takes our call.”
Angel and Spike were dumbfounded for a moment, and then when Dana’s information sunk in, both began to laugh.
“The World is about to go to war again, and the two of you don’t know where the Council headquarters is,” Spike stated between sniggers. “The number one and two slayers, and they don’t know where the headquarters is in New York City, the biggest and most important city this side of the Pond.”
‘Shut-up, Spike!” Faith didn’t want to hear the humiliating knowledge she already knew.
“Well, Faithy.” Angelus leaned back in one of the kitchen chairs with a wide grin. “Perhaps you’d like to join me tonight. I know a couple of demons, who probably could help in your quest to find the New York Council Headquarters. I’m sure you could beat the information out of them.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Faith muttered in mortification. It was a solution, although showing up with Angelus at some demon haunts meant bolstering his reputation with the demon population in New York; something she had been trying to avoid. “Dana, last night, me tonight, and I suppose Illyria tomorrow. You’ll have the demons here in New York falling all over you.”
“That’s the plan, Faithy. That’s the plan.”
**
October 24, 2005
Stretching out lazily on the camper’s mattress, Faith squinted across the room at the tiny clock that glowed from the old VCR player they had removed from the truck. It was late afternoon; no time left to pay a visit to the Council. It would have to wait until tomorrow.
As if he heard her thoughts, Spike, plopping into the recliner, asked. “Shouldn’t you be getting up? Thought you had places to go, people to see, cures to be found.”
“Tomorrow.” Faith yawned. “Too tired after last night’s adventures. I must have beaten-up a dozen or more demons.”
“Right, and I heard you found out where Council Headquarters is here in New York. So you need to go and get me my cure; then I could go and help you mix it up. It’s been a bit since I’ve been able to smash some heads, and I’m suffering withdrawal.”
“Tomorrow, Spike,” Faith promised. “But right now, I need some food, and. . . .” She sniffed at her clothes. “A Laundromat. I’m starting to smell a little ripe.”
“Boring, love.” Spike shook his head, just as Illyria emerged from the bathroom. “But there’s nothing stopping us from picking up some take-away and coming back here to enjoy the pleasures of a large screen, high-definition, plasma telly.” He waved his hand proudly at the newly acquired, state-of-the-art television set, which was hanging on the wall.
“Man.” Faith looked next to her at an awakening Dana, and then over at Illyia. “You two are a couple of suckers. You let him talk you into going and buying that.” She pointed to the TV.
“You should see how Warfare looks on it,” Illyria said. “On that big screen, the graphics are incredible.”
“Really?” Now Faith was interested. “Well what are you waiting for, Spikey. Fire that thing up.”
“Let’s get something to eat first,” Dana, now fully awake, protested. “And I really need some clean clothes.”
“Right, right.” Faith immediately agreed. Food and cleanliness came before video games.
“So we go buy ourselves a washer.” Spike took a sniff of his own clothes and realized that the girls were correct; they all could use some clean clothes with the exception of Angelus, who had enough clothes for a change everyday.
“Are you nuts?” Faith wasn’t used to just going out and buying whatever on a whim, even if it was something that was needed. “Where would we put it?”
The four looked briefly around the room before Spike pointed to a corner of the apartment where the kitchen area was located. “Over by the sink. There’s water there, so a washing machine should be able to be hooked-up.”
The prospect of having a washing machine at their disposal had Faith jumping up to study the situation. “Yep,” she said, as she examined the area. “There’s a drain here too, so it would be a piece of cake to install one. So what?” She looked over at Spike. “Just gonna ask him to buy us a washing machine?”
Before Spike could answer, Angelus came stomping out of the bedroom, his mood foul.
“Spike!” he snarled. “I hope you’ve eaten.” Even though the words themselves were non-threatening, Angelus’ statement sounded very much like a warning.
“Right,” Spike agreed readily, since he was hoping to wheedle more money from the older vampire. “Getting to it immediately.” He said this with certainty, although in truth, he had no idea what blood he should eat. Since his poisoning, his diet consisted of Angelus‘, Illyria’s, or the slayers’ blood, or a combination of the aforementioned. At this moment, he wasn’t sure which one his Sire wanted him to have, fortunately, Angelus made the situation clearer.
“You.” He looked over at Dana. “Come here and give us some blood.” Grabbing a mug, he slammed it down on the kitchen table, and then savagely ripped open his wrist. “After you finish preparing his meal. . . .” He gave a nod at Illyria. “Get ready to leave.” Filling the mug half-way, he pushed it over to Dana and then spun around to the bathroom.
“Need some money,” Spike quickly called after him.
Stopping in his tracks, Angelus threw Spike a dark glare. “What for?”
“Need some food. Pizza bagel bites,” Spike hurriedly explained, knowing he was treading on thin ice. “And a microwave to cook them up.”
Angelus’ frown deepened. “Boy, if you go out and waste money on more nonsense.” He turned and scowled at the new television set
“Have a taste for bagel bites. Gonna have Faith here. . . .” He exchanged a look with her, as she tiptoed her way back to the living room area. She didn’t want Angelus to know that she had been measuring space for a new washer. “Sprinkle some of her blood on them, more to eat, you know.” He offered up the last part as incentive for more money, since Angelus seemed so obsessed with him eating.
“All right.” Another growl, as Angelus stamped his way into the small storage room. Emerging moments later, he threw a packet of money to Spike. “Buy only things that are a necessity. Anything else, and I’ll be tanning your hide.”
“Right,” Spike said with false meekness in his tone, as he turned his head and gave Faith a wink. “No buying anything needless.”
“Spike, you can’t be seriously still be considering buy a washing machine?” Faith whispered, knowing full well what Spike meant with his wink, as Angelus disappeared into the bathroom.
“A washing machine is most certainly a necessity,” Spike said with all seriousness, as he happily counted the bills in his hand. “And if your conscience needs easing, you can wash the Poof’s clothes. He’s been throwing all of them in our closet. There’s numerous piles in there now. If everything of his is washed, then he can’t say it’s an unnecessary purchase.”
“O-kay.” Faith could only shake her head at Spike’s power of rationalization. “Any way you can explain our buying a king-size futon? I sure would love getting up off the ground at night.” She looked ruefully down at the foam mattress from the camper, lying on the floor, and then at the small love seat, which folded out into a single bed. A new acquisition that Illyria had bought for herself.
“Not a problem.” Spike grinned. “An argument can be made that you and Dana need better sleeping conditions in order to be at your best when accompanying him at night. A tired slayer is not at peak form. What?” he asked, as Faith gave him an I-can’t-believe-you look. “You know, you can justify anything, if you put your mind to it.”
“To yourself, Spike, but what about. . . ?” Faith swung her head in the direction of the bathroom, where they could clearly hear the sound of water running. “The King of Grouch?”
“He is in a bit of a temper, isn’t he?” Spike turned his head to look at Illyria, who carefully handed him his cup of blood, delicately spiced the way he liked it. “What did you do to tee him off last night?”
“Me?” Faith protested. “I just did what he told me to do.”
“He’s angry because he feels helpless.” Illyria spoke up. “He can do nothing about your weakened condition, and you don’t help matters by refusing to accept his aid.”
“His aid?” Spike had no idea what Illyria was saying. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, love, but if the Poof finds a cure for me, I’ll accept it with open arms.”
“He’s out to prove that he’s the big demon here in New York, and then I do believe his intention is to build a following to. . . .”
Dana cleared her throat loudly, cutting Faith off, just as Angelus emerged from the bathroom, naked and dripping. Sensing that the conversation shut down because of him, he glowered at them all before going to the bedroom and slamming the door so hard that the building shook.
“Man.” Spike took a sip of blood, while looking up at Illyria with sympathy. “The Old Ponce is really in a mood. Feel bad for your, pet, since you‘re going to have the pleasure of his company for the night. We, on-the-other-hand will be enjoying an evening of shopping, pizza bagel bites, and Warfare on 1080 pixels of resolution.”
****