Christian Toben’s Apartment, May 28, 1998
“There! How does that look?” Spike held up a field trip permission form with Angel’s forged signature on it for the gang’s approval.
Cocking his head, Xander compared it to the signature on the apartment lease he was holding in his hand. “Looks okay. I mean, we are talking about Mr. Fishbaum, who’s the history substitute for the history substitute. He’s pretty clueless.”
“Right.” Spike grinned. “I’m getting rather good at forging the Old Boy’s signature. Too bad I didn’t know how to do this a year ago. Might have saved me some grief.”
“Just how long do you think you can get away with pretending your dad is around?” Willow asked, as she shifted around uncomfortably. The whole lying-and-deceiving was just not her strong point. “Won’t Giles say something sooner or later?”
“If that bloody tattler says anything, I’ll never go on another patrol for him. . .ever,” Spike declared firmly.
“Easy, Spike,” Buffy cautioned. “Before it comes to that, I’m sure we’ll track down Whistler. We’ve been sending word out through the demon grapevine that Chax has left this dimension. Hopefully, Whistler will hear about it and find his way back to Sunnydale. Then he can act as Spike’s guardian until. . . .” She stared over at her friend and fighting partner. “His eighteenth birthday.”
“Not a bad set-up.” Cordelia made a point of surveying the apartment. “Toben or should I say Chax leaves you this apartment, rent paid up, and. . . .”
“And utilities,” Spike interrupted. “Everything is paid until August of 1999. Couldn’t have a sweeter deal.” He leaned back on the couch, a satisfied grin on his face.
“How did you rate?” Cordelia asked enviously. “I mean, yeah, you were kidnapped by your crazy-ass dad, who was just about to suck us all into hell, and. . . .”
“Cordy,” Buffy warned, just as Xander broke-in, “Okay, who’s up for a trip to the Bronze?” Both of their goals was to shut Cordelia up.
“I’m just saying,” Cordelia persisted, unaware that she was treading on a very sensitive subject. “Yeah, Spike suffered, but so did we, and Toben didn’t make sure that we were all rewarded.”
‘Suffered! Just how the bloody hell did you suffer?” Spike was now angry, happy grin wiped off his face. “Chip a nail, while you. . . .”
“You know. . . .” Buffy jumped up, and grabbed Spike by the arm. “A trip to the Bronze is just what we all need.”
But Spike was not to be appeased. “Bloody bint! When was the last time you had to stick a sword through your father!”
“I didn’t say that it wasn’t horrible for you.” Cordelia’s voice was now a few decibels louder. “I said. . . .”
“ENOUGH!” Willow out shouted them all. “Cordelia!” She looked over at the cheerleader. “Spike didn’t have a place to live, so Toben generously arranged for him to have this apartment until he’s finished with High School, and him living here is a bonus to us all because now we have our own private hang-out complete with a full kitchen. And you. . . .” She turned to Spike. “We are all sympathetic of your situation, not having a father nor a mother. But we’re your friends and have been nothing but supportive, so you can’t stop with the bloody you’re-all-to-blame attitude.”
The room was dead silent for a few seconds, as everyone was totally taken aback. None of them had ever heard Willow speak so strongly.
“Wow, Will.” Buffy was impressed. “When did you become assertive girl?”
“Err.” The moment had passed, and Willow was already regretting her outburst. “Did I come on too strong?”
“Bloody hell.” Spike covered his ears for a moment. “My ears are ringing. I haven’t been taken down a peg like that since Buffy reamed me out for using her in a lie to my Sire and Whistler.”
“Sorry, guys.” Willow was apologetic. “But I just hate to see everyone arguing, and,” she trailed off, as the group headed for the front door. “I came on too strong, didn’t I?” she asked Oz, who threw an arm around her, as they exited the apartment.
“Don’t worry. I like the new forceful you.” Oz never failed to be supportive.
Argument forgotten, the gang headed toward the Bronze, chatting and laughing away.
**
May 31, 1998
Patrolling by herself in the woods, Buffy missed having Spike by her side, but tonight being the second night of the cycle of the full moon, he had Oz duty. Last night it had been entrusted it to Xander, who promptly fell asleep, and now there was a dead body that may or may not have been killed by a werewolf. Willow, Giles, and Oz were all wigging out, at least, she thought Oz was wigging out. It was hard to tell with him.
A rustle of foliage alerted her, and she raised her stake, carefully scanning her surroundings. Suddenly a figure to her left came out of the woods and darted past her. Breaking into a run, she gave chase, but was taken by surprise when her prey changed direction and met her head on, knocking her to the ground. Gathering her wits quickly, she looked up, and it was the shock of her life, when she saw the beast in her front of her. It was Angel in demon form, snarling and growling like a wounded animal.
**
“Spike! Spike!”
A whirlwind Buffy came flying through the library doors, interrupting Spike in mid yawn.
“You here to relieve me, slayer?” he asked slamming the textbook in front of him shut. “Good, because. . . .”
“I’ve got something to show you,” Buffy interrupted. Her whole body shook with excitement.
“Alright,” Spike agreed. “But what about him?” He nodded toward the library cage, where they had Oz locked-up.
“We’ll call Xander. I’d call Willow, but it would be hard for her to leave the house at this late hour.”
“Xander? And what if Sleeping Beauty falls asleep on the job again?”
“It’ll only be for a couple hours; I’ll come back and relieve him after. . .after. . . .” Buffy considered. The news that Angel was back was bursting to come out, but she had originally planned not to say anything, just let Spike see the proof, the proof, which was now chained up in his apartment.
“You didn’t find another mutilated body, did you?” Spike was now beyond curious, since Buffy radiated agitation.
“No.” She shook her head, as she picked up the telephone on the library counter. “You won’t believe it.”
“Believe what?” Spike asked, irritation in his tone. Buffy didn’t usually play idiotic guess-what-I-saw games.
Buffy was saved from saying anything more, as Xander finally answered the phone. “Xander, we need you here at the library for Oz duty. It won’t be for the whole night; I’ll come take over for you in a couple hours. Just get here fast, and this time, don’t fall asleep.”
**
“I can’t. . . .” Spike’s voice was just a whisper, as he sat on the floor, arms around his knees, staring at the chained figure in front of him. Tears rolled down his face. “I can’t believe he’s back. And just how did he escape from the hell dimension? And is he going to snap out of, of this?” he asked as Angel bared his fangs at them again.
The questions he asked were questions that he and Buffy had been discussing since their arrival at his apartment, and he had first laid eyes on his now feral Sire. Buffy had no problem indulging him; she had never seen Spike in such a vulnerable state.
“Don’t know the answers to any of your questions, but I think this is something we need to research on our own. It wouldn’t be wise to tell Giles or, or any of the other gang about him.” Buffy was also sitting on the floor, but her body was turned, facing Spike, not Angel.
Spike heaved a huge sigh. “Yeah, everyone’s already becoming unglued about the murder of Jeff Orkin, which Oz may or may not have,” he broke off, as a thought struck him. “Bloody hell! You don’t think that. . . .” His voice lowered to a whisper again. “He did it.” He waved at hand in Angel’s direction, which elicited another growl.
“Oh God!’ Buffy eyes’ widened, as she and Spike exchanged horrified looks. “Just what we need.”
“Well, it’s not his fault,” Spike declared after a few moments of consideration. “He’s not himself.”
Buffy nodded her head in agreement, but on the inside, she squirmed with doubt. In his current state, Angel was a dangerous animal, and if it was proven that he killed and would kill again, then there would be no choice but to stake him.
“Let me run to the library, check on Oz and. . . .” She rolled her eyes. “Xander. And I’ll look up some books on demon dimensions, and there was that one book that Giles found real helpful about Acathla, the. . . .” She snapped her fingers, trying to remember.
“The Mystery of Acathla,” Spike said dryly.
“That’s it. I’ll bring them to you, and you can research, while I keep Oz company.” Buffy jumped up. She needed to do, not just sit around contemplating such pessimistic thoughts about the future.
“You could check out a few books too, since you will be sitting there in the library.” Spike wiped his wet face, as he also stood up.
“Yes, of course.” Buffy was agreeable. “But tomorrow night I really need to study. Finals will be coming up, and the last thing I want is to start off my summer vacation grounded.”
“On your way back, stop by Willy’s and make a point of how important it is that Whistler get our message.” Spike turned his head to look at Angel again. “Cause if that milksop git would ever get his arse back here, maybe he could give us some answers.”
**
June 1, 1998
“Hey!” Buffy called out as she used her key to enter Spike’s apartment. “Spike, you here?”
“Yeah, yeah.” A shirtless, yawning Spike shuffled out of the bedroom to greet her. “Hope you brought me something to eat.”
“No, but here’s some blood for. . ., and I got your homework.” She slammed a couple of textbooks on the counter. “You were a no-show at school today.”
“Stayed up all night researching demon dimensions.” Spike shrugged, as he took the container of blood out of the paper bag and popped it into the microwave. “And kept him company.”
“How is he? Any change?”
“Not really. He slept some, but his sleep was very uneasy, seemed to have a lot of nightmares.” The microwave dinged, and Spike carefully took out the container of blood.
“Guess that’s not surprising since he was in a hell dimension,” Buffy said, sympathy in her tone. “But anyway, I managed to wheedle some info out of Giles.”
“You didn’t tell him?” Spike looked at her with dismay.
“No, no. I kept it all hypothetical, and he didn’t get suspicious because there’s was another body today, and his mind was on that.”
“There was?” Spike said with surprise, as he began making his way back to the bedroom. “Well, if it was killed last night. . . .”
“No, it was found this afternoon, and the official word is that it was killed sometime this morning,” Buffy interrupted with excitement. “Which lets Oz and your dad off the hook. Oh, and by the way, it was the school psychologist, Mr. Platt. Did you know him at all?”
“I had to meet with him once or twice, when I was acting up in Mr. Toben’s class.”
“I remember.” Buffy threw him a disgusted glare. “Being a total jerk to a really nice guy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Spike said as they tiptoed into the bedroom. With great caution, he set the blood down with arm’s reach for Angel, who hissed at him. “But since I’m part demon, and he is or was an angel, there’s just a natural hostility between us. So what did old Rupert have to say?”
“That time moves quite differently in demon dimensions, so even though for us your dad’s been gone for only a month, for him it could have been hundreds of years.”
“Hundreds of years!” Spike repeated after Buffy, sobered by the thought that his Sire had been in a hell dimension, suffering for centuries of time. “So will he. . . .” He waved a hand in the direction of Angel. “Ever be himself again?”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Buffy shrugged. “And I quote, ‘It would take someone of a lot of will and character to survive in a hell dimension, and, and be themselves; they’d likely become a monster.”
“Right.” Spike looked at Buffy suspiciously. “Those were Giles’ exact words?”
“Well maybe not his exact words; I took some liberties, but you get the general idea.”
“So, fine, he suffered unbearable torture for hundreds of years and has returned here, how we don’t know, like that.” He waved again in Angel’s direction. “But will he eventually recover?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Buffy repeated.
“Well, I must say, Rupert was certainly a lot of help,” Spike said scornfully. “He didn’t really tell us anything we didn’t already know.” Throwing himself down on the floor, he resumed his position of staring at Angel.
“Come on, Spike.” Buffy tapped him on the shoulder. “You need to get out for a bit. Let’s get something to eat, meet the gang for a while, and then you can do a short patrol with me. It will do you some good, and he. . . .” She lifted her head to stare at Angel. “Won’t be going anywhere.”
Spike heaved a huge sigh. “How much bloody homework did you bring me?”
“Depends on how thorough you do it. If you do it the Xander-method, which is skimming instead of reading, shorthand notes instead of detailed notes, and double-spacing your history report, so a six page requirement is really only three, it should only take you about an hour.”
“Like I want to emulate anything Xander does.” Spike made a I‘d-rather-be-dead-face. “And I’ll need a note tomorrow for today’s absence. Don’t suppose we can get one out of him.” He nodded at Angel.
“Thought you could forge his handwriting?” Buffy asked as they exited the bedroom.
“His signature, never tried writing a complete excuse before.”
**
June 4, 1998
Thursday proved to being an interesting day, even more interesting than a few days before, when it was discovered that one of their classmates, Pete Clarner, was a modern day Jekyll and Hyde. Unfortunately, for Pete, he decided to pick a fight with Oz, just as the sun was setting; thus, setting up a battle royal between one pissed-off werewolf, and a jealous, abusive, and homicidal Mr. Hyde. It took all the resources of Buffy, Spike, and some help from Willow to subdue Oz and stop Pete. Buffy was just extremely thankful that she had talked Spike into coming with her on Monday. Alone, she couldn’t have taken both Oz and Pete.
But Thursday was certainly out-of-the ordinary when two people entered the library of Sunnydale High right after school let out, a Gwendolyn Post, Watcher for the Council, and Faith Lehane, another vampire slayer.
“So.” Xander gave Faith an appreciative male once-over before turning to Buffy. “I knew this I'm the only one, I'm the only one thing was just an attention-getter.”
How is this even possible?” Willow asked. “I mean, two Slayers at the same time?” All eyes were on Faith, an attractive, very fit brunette, who was about their same age.
“Yes,” Gwendolyn Post said in a superior tone. “Faith was called because Buffy here. . . .” She threw Buffy a haughty look. “Died.”
“But it was only for a minute,” Buffy protested. “And jeez, that was like eons ago.” She frowned at Faith. “What took you so long?”
“She’s been training. . .hard,” Gwendolyn answered before Faith could open her mouth. “And also doing a bit of clean-up on the east coast.”
“Yeah.” Faith finally was able to get a word in. “Got some stories to tell, but then. . . .” She gave Buffy a wink. “ I know you do too, something about a rocket launcher?”
“This is completely unprecedented! I'm quite flummoxed.” Giles sat down, as he looked first at Buffy and then at Faith.
“Yes, well, there’s quite a bit of work to be done.” Gwendolyn was all business, as she studied the room’s occupants. Her gaze fell upon Spike. “You look strangely familiar, in fact. . . .” She studied him for another long moment, noting the mark on his neck. “Yes, I remember you, the Dhampir, son of the notorious Angelus. Why did you not report to the Council that he. . . .” She pointed a long finger at Spike, while accusing Giles. “Was here? The Council considered him quite a loss, when his mother snuck him away.”
“My mum didn’t sneak me anywhere.” Spike stared hatefully at Gwendolyn. He also remembered her from years back “I was her son, never belonged to the bloody Council.”
“Your mother broke her,” Gwendolyn began.
“Sod off!” Spike jumped up from his chair; hostility radiating off him in waves. “I’m out of here.” And before Gwendolyn could continue or Buffy could object, he had stomped out of the library.
**
“Bloody Council, bloody, effin’ watchers,” Spike muttered to himself, as tramped his way to the car. “Don’t trust the lot of them.”
Throwing himself into the driver’s seat, he screeched out of the school parking lot. Hate, suspicion, and fear were overwhelming him, and despite the fact that a part of him trusted Buffy, and to some extent Giles, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to get himself and his Sire out of Sunnydale. Both of them were in danger.
As an idea formed in his head, he made a sharp right; he knew what he had to do. Driving to the other side of town, he stopped in front of a shabby, but ordinary looking building, the home/business of Willy the Snitch, one of the more popular demon hang-outs in Sunnydale. He no more than stepped into the pub, when Willy threw up his arms, and said:
“I’ve sent messages, and drop hints to every customer, who’s come in here for the last few days, and that’s all I can do. Hopefully, Whistler will get the message, but there’s no more I can do, so please tell the Slayer that.”
“That’s not why I came in here,” Spike quickly reassured him, as he stepped to the bar and leaned his elbows on it. “Need some fake I.D.” He raised the volume of his voice so everyone in the pub could hear him. “So who knows someone, who can help me?” He stared a moment at Willy before turning to face the rest of the patrons.
There was a slight stirring among the crowd, but no one volunteered. They were too afraid to involve themselves with him, the son of Angelus, and friend of the Slayer.
“Anyone? I can pay.” Spike threw out the offer, as his heart sank. He knew what the problem was.
“Don’t think anyone here knows anything about that,” Willy lied nervously, as he wiped down an imaginary dirty spot on the bar.
“Fake I.D?” A floppy-eared, loose skin demon, who stood next so Spike, asked. “If you want a drink, I don’t think Willy will card you, will you?” He looked over at Willy the Snitch.
“No, of course not, anything for the son of Angelus, and friend of the Slayer.” Willy laid it on thick. “First one on the house, what will it be?”
“Gimme a beer, on tap,” Spike said with a sigh. A room full of demons, and he couldn’t find anyone to make him some false identification.
“There, problem solved.” The demon grinned, as Willy set a glass of beer in front of Spike. “But you probably shouldn’t drink too many because you know, it’s a school night. You dad probably wouldn’t be too happy about that.” He gave Spike a searching look. All of the demons in Sunnydale knew Angelus and were puzzled by his lack of presence in the last month.
“No, he wouldn’t,” Spike agreed, as he took a long gulp. “At least, he wouldn’t before.”
“Before?” The demon scratched his head in puzzlement.
“What’s your name, mate?” Spike turned his head to his new companion.
“Clement, but call me Clem.” The demon threw Spike a friendly smile, as he held out his hand.
“A pleasure.” Spike studied Clem from head to toe. “And you wouldn’t know anyone, who’s in the business of false identification?”
“No.” Clem shook his head. “Why is it so important to you?”
“Need to lease an apartment, but a lease is only valid if the person is eighteen.”
“Oh, is that all.” Clem waved his hand. “I could sign a lease for you. I’m of age.”
“Really? I could pay you.” Hope surged in Spike. He could get his Sire out of Sunnydale, rent a flat in LA, away from Gwendolyn Post and Faith the Slayer.
“Nah.” Clem made another don’t-bother motion with his hand. “I don’t need pay, just glad to be able to do the favor. And by-the-way, I can pass for human; they just think I have a really bad skin condition.”
“Right then.” Spike drank up his beer. “Up for a trip to LA?”
“Ready, willing, and able.” Clem slipped off the bar stool and stood up.
Clement, the demon, would turn out to be Spike’s first non-human friend, and he would prove himself to be loyal, dependable ally. Their friendship would last for many years.
****