Part 16
Wesley winced as the Plymouth unavoidably hit another rut. The street alongside Caritas was pitted worse than a teenager’s acne scarred skin, and every jolt sent shooting pains through his stiff and aching muscles.
“Sorry,” Angel apologised for the umpteenth time.
The vampire was carefully manoeuvring his vehicle through the minefield of potholes decorating the road, but it would take the car metamorphosing into a hovercraft to avoid all the bumps. Therefore, when the shiny black Plymouth finally drew to a stop directly opposite the private side entrance to Caritas, Wesley breathed a grateful sigh of relief.
The muffled boom-boom sound of the bass from the Karaoke machine could be heard outside in the alleyway, mixed together with, what could only be described as caterwauling from someone – or something – murdering Bon Jovi’s ‘Living on a Prayer.’
“I guess Lorne decided to open up the Club tonight,” Angel said, as he walked around to the passenger side to help his injured friend out of the car. “I thought he might shut up shop for another day after everything that has happened.”
Cordelia huffed disapprovingly at his comment. “Given that attitude, it’s hardly a surprise that Angel Investigations isn’t what you’d call a profit-making venture, now is it?” she said, caustically remarking on the vampire’s total lack of business acumen. “Do you have any idea what a place like this can make in one night?”
“Not really.” Angel casually shrugged off her insult. To be honest, as long as it paid the rent, he wasn’t particularly bothered about his company’s overall turnover. Ultimately, it wasn’t what his un-life was about.
The young seer rolled her eyes in despair at her boyfriend’s complacent attitude. She was not the materialistic creature she once was, but the waste of a commercial opportunity still irked her. She had learned the hard way the truth of the cliché: ‘Money can’t buy you love,’ however. Having lived in the lap of luxury for almost eighteen of her nineteen years, this past year of relative poverty with Angel had easily been the happiest time in her life, in spite of their ups and downs.
Clutching a bag of medicinal provisions in her right hand, Cordelia slipped her other arm around Wesley’s waist, and Angel supported him from the other side as the three friends slowly made their way over to the blue-painted door.
Cordelia unlocked the door, and with the ex-watcher leaning heavily on the vampire for support, they awkwardly navigated the way up the narrow staircase to the private quarters above.They did eventually make it to the sanctuary of the bedroom however, and Wesley sank down on the edge of the bed, completely drained of energy by the short, painful walk from the car.
Glancing around, he noticed that every surface was positively gleaming, clearly polished with a vigorous hand. Two vases of pleasantly smelling flowers sat on the dresser, while fresh linen and extra pillows swathed the big double bed.
“Somebody’s been busy,” he remarked to his companions.
Cordelia and Angel exchanged an uncomfortable glance, and he was quick to decipher the identity of his chambermaid.
“I don’t want her doing penitence,” he said gravely, his forehead creasing with concern.
“I know, and nor should she,” Angel agreed. “But you have to let her express her remorse somehow, Wes.”
“But…”
“I know none of what happened was Faith’s fault,” the vampire quickly interrupted, holding up his hand to halt the ex-watcher’s protest. “But she’s not thinking straight right now. I’m not suggesting we reinforce her opinion in any way, but she needs some sort of outlet for her mixed-up feelings. You reject her apology and she’ll only retreat back into herself.”
“Alright,” Wesley reluctantly concurred with Angel’s logical assessment of the situation. “I’m not having her waiting on me hand and foot though.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure things don’t get out of hand,” the vampire reassured the Englishman. “Just allow her to help you out a bit, okay?”
“Okay,” Wesley nodded and closed his eyes, too tired to argue any further.
“You need to get some rest,” Cordelia said, noticing her friend’s obvious fatigue.
“Do you want a drink or something?” Angel asked solicitously, as his girlfriend moved to help Wesley out of his jacket.
“Yeah – a hot chocolate would be good,” the ex-watcher replied, his speech slurring a little as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. When Cordelia knelt down and started to unbutton his shirt however, he jerked himself awake again.
“I can do that myself!” he protested, hurriedly grabbing hold of her wrists to stop her nimble fingers in their tracks.
The seer insistently swatted away his hands away. “Pfft! Look at you – you can hardly move. What’s the problem? You’re not going commando, are you?”
“Certainly not!” Wesley replied, his blue eyes wide with outrage behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
“Well, stop being such a stuffy prude then. What do you think I’m gonna do? Point and say ‘Oo look, Wesley’s got man parts under his boxers’.”
“Angel!” Wesley made an appeal to the grinning vampire for moral support.
It was then that Cordelia chose to play her trump card. “Of course, if you’d rather Angel helped you…” she slyly suggested.
It got the desired effect; the two male friends immediately broke eye contact, shifting uncomfortably and awkwardly clearing their throats. The seer rolled her eyes in amusement, her hazel orbs sparkling with silent laughter. Men!
“Didn’t think so,” she commented with a wide grin, and resumed helping Wesley change into his striped pyjamas.
Shaking his head at his girlfriend’s impudence, Angel chuckled as he left the room to make the hot drinks. If it were anyone else, his possessive vampiric nature would have kicked in straightaway. This was Wesley though, and he trusted the man completely, which was not something he could say of many people in his life. The ex-watcher was one of the privileged few, however.
As he trudged down the stairs, it occurred to Angel that he probably should let the others know they were back, so he went through into the noisy bar to seek them out. Immediately spying Buffy, Willow and Riley seated at a table in the middle of the heaving club, he quickly headed over towards them.
“You’re back!” Buffy twisted round in her seat, her face lighting up with a wide smile, as her slayer senses informed her of the vampire’s quiet approach.
As he observed the vacant look of adoration that crossed his ex-girlfriend’s pretty face, Angel felt a distinct uneasiness. He was no stranger to obsession, and the sight of it shining brightly in Buffy’s blue eyes filled him with untold alarm. He really had to talk to her before this situation got out of hand, he knew, but had no real wish to humiliate her in front of her friends. He decided, therefore, to hold his tongue until he got the chance to speak to her privately.
“Hi Angel!” Willow greeted the disconcerted vampire with a bright smile. “This place is so cool – so much better than the Bronze!”
The witch was gazing around the Karaoke Club, a look of rapt fascination on her face, and Angel had to smile at her child-like wonderment – she was like a kid in a candy store.
“I’m sure Lorne’ll be delighted with that seal of approval,” he told her.
“How’s your friend? Was he well enough to be discharged from the hospital?”
The vampire’s gaze settled on Riley as he politely enquired after Wesley’s health. The soldier sat next Buffy, with his fingers curled around hers and their joined hands resting on the tabletop. The past few days’ events had severely challenged Riley’s black and white view of demon world, and a troubled expression marred his handsome face as he reluctantly absorbed the in-your-face reality of Caritas.
The soldier’s confrontational attitude towards Angel did seem to have died down though – perhaps because he’d satisfied himself that the vampire had no residual romantic interest in Buffy. He also seemed oblivious to the slayer’s growing fixation on her ex, and for that, Angel was profoundly grateful – a physical altercation with her boyfriend was something he could definitely do without.
“He seems okay, considering. Cordy is helping him get settled upstairs,” he said in answer to Riley’s question before he asked one of his own. “Where’s Faith?”
“Umm – I think she might have gone upstairs, I don’t know,” Buffy replied.
“You think she might have?” Angel’s voice held a slight note of accusation in it.
“I asked her to go out patrolling with me, but she wasn’t up for it,” the slayer said defensively. “You know how she gets when she doesn’t want to do something.”
“Yes but… Never mind, it doesn’t matter.”
Shaking his head in exasperation, Angel turned on his heel and strode purposefully across the room towards the door, through which he’d entered a few minutes earlier.
“Angel…” Willow ran after him and caught hold of his arm to halt his determined progress.
“Faith went for a walk,” she continued off the vampire’s enquiring look. “I offered to go with her, but she said she needed some time alone to clear her head. I think she was trying to psyche herself up to face Wesley.”
Angel nodded, grateful for the information. “Thanks Will.”
“Try not to be too hard on Buffy, okay Angel? Faith has always been so mentally strong, and now… just because she doesn’t know how to deal with it, doesn’t mean she doesn’t care.”
“I know,” Angel sighed, running his fingers through his short, spiky hair. “My patience with her is starting to wear a bit thin, I guess. It’s been seven months since I left Sunnydale, even longer since we split up – I just wish she’d move on already.”
Willow experienced a sinking feeling in her chest on hearing this. She’d hoped that Buffy would have realised the futility of her romantic notions of a reunion with her former love by now. The strength of Angel and Cordy’s bond was plain for all to see, but the slayer obstinately continued to be blind to it, or – to be more accurate – deliberately chose to ignore what was right in front of her face.
“Why, what’s she said?” the witch asked the visibly irritated vampire, with a heavy sigh of resignation.
“Nothing directly – it’s just a feeling I get, that’s all. I could be imagining it, I suppose, but I don’t think so. I do not need this right now, Willow. Cordy and I…”
Angel broke off and shook his head. “Things have been difficult between us lately,” he quietly admitted. “We’re working it out, but I don’t want anything to rock the boat.”
“Look, I’ll try and talk to her, okay?” Willow offered. “I’m not sure she’ll listen though.”
“No, I’m not sure she will either. I just don’t get why she’s acting this way – she has a boyfriend for god’s sake. Why is she coming on to me?”
“Maybe because of what you represent to her,” Willow suggested. “You were the big forbidden love, you know? And I think, in some crazy way, she feels safe playing that tragic Juliet role. It’s easier than coping with the realities of adult life and her slayer duties, I guess.”
Angel frowned as the witch’s words struck home. Buffy was a girl, who’d had a great deal of responsibility thrust upon her at a very young age. Having watched over her since she’d first learned of her destiny – he knew, better than anyone else, the comfort that she’d taken from the sheltered cocoon of her High School life. With that security blanket gone, and Faith and himself no longer backing her up, was it really that surprising that she was clinging desperately to the past?
“She’s gonna have it tough, that slayer. She’s just a kid. The world’s full of big, bad things,” Whistler had said to the vampire, after giving him the first glimpse of the mission that had so significantly altered the direction of his life.
“I wanna help her,” he’d replied earnestly. “I want… I wanna become someone.”
Angel had not really understood at the time who Whistler was, but with everything that had happened since, he now recognised the hand of the Powers That Be in his meeting with the immortal demon. The encounter had started him out along the long road towards his redemption, and it also meant that Buffy was the subject of his first assignment. That gave him pause for thought – had he completed that original mission satisfactorily?
While he’d stood steadfastly by the young slayer’s side throughout those difficult first years, he had effectively abandoned her once their entwined lives had gone in different directions. He did not feel guilty about that though – at the time, it had been the right thing to do, for all concerned. Now that she was a grown woman, it was important that Buffy took full responsibility for her prophesised destiny. He could not be her crutch forever; she had to learn to stand on her own two feet at some point.
He freely admitted that he could have offered her significantly more moral support in recent months, than he had though, but their personal situation had made that extremely difficult. Angel had deliberately distanced himself from his former girlfriend since he and Cordy had moved to LA, and there was no denying that there had been selfish reasons behind those actions. He had wanted his new relationship to develop without the spectre of his doomed liaison with Buffy hanging over it at every juncture.
The vampire let out a heavy sigh, torn between the need to live his own life, and the pull of his responsibilities as a warrior for the greater good. Severing all ties with Buffy just wasn’t an option for him – both on a professional, and a personal, level. He could never dismiss the significant role that the slayer had played in bringing him to this point in his life – she had been the one to open up his deadened heart to the power of love, and without that, he would still be the empty shell of a person that he used to be.
They were in this fight together, come what may, and he honestly wanted her as his friend, as well as his comrade-in-arms. Until she accepted that their romantic relationship was well and truly over though, he couldn’t see how that could happen. If it came down to a choice, then Cordelia would win every time.
“Are you okay? You’ve gone all Mr Broody-Face.”
Willow’s perpetually cheerful voice broke into Angel’s reverie, prompting him to shake himself out of his blue funk.
“I’m fine – just thinking too much, I guess,” he said, a rueful smile hovering on his lips.
“I should go and make Wes his hot chocolate, and then go and look for Faith,” he added, purposely changing the subject.
“She’s not your responsibility anymore, you know,” Willow said quietly as the vampire started to turn away from her.
“Buffy, I mean,” she clarified off his quizzical look. “Don’t let her cause problems for you and Cordy.”
“There’s no fear of that,” Angel said. “But I still care about her, and I want to help her if I can. Her behaviour is not exactly normal, Willow. A little harmless flirting is one thing, but this… it seems to be hovering on the verge of obsession, and that worries me.”
Willow nodded solemnly, feeling a bit guilty. She had been so wrapped up in her own life since starting college and meeting Tara, that she hadn’t had much time for her best friend.
“I’ll talk to her,” she reiterated her earlier promise to the vampire.
Angel reached out to squeeze the witch’s shoulder in silent gratitude, and then turned and retreated into Caritas’ living quarters. Pushing open the kitchen door, he flipped on the light and promptly jumped out of his skin, when he illuminated a still figure sitting at the small table in the centre of room.
Faith lifted her head out of her cupped hands, and gave him a watery smile of greeting. The slayer’s face was pale, and she had dark bruise-like shadows under her red-rimmed eyes.
“Hey,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“Hey yourself,” Angel replied calmly, choosing not to comment on the fact that she had been sitting in the pitch dark. “Didn’t you hear us come in?”
“Yes” came the brutally honest reply.
“I’m making hot chocolate – you want some?” Angel asked, as he filled the kettle with water and put it onto boil.
“I guess,” Faith replied, her tone of voice flat and dull.
Pulling out a jar of instant hot chocolate from the cupboard, the vampire twisted open the lid and cautiously sniffed at the contents. Grimacing, he promptly replaced the container on the shelf, then continued his search through the cupboards, pleasantly surprised to find the kitchen well stocked.
“What are you doing?” Faith’s innate curiosity got the better of her, as she watched him assemble a small collection of ingredients on the counter-top.
“Making hot chocolate – the proper stuff. Cordy reckons it’s the ultimate comfort food,” Angel answered. “Here – make yourself useful and put four mugs of milk into that saucepan, and then you can chop that chocolate into small pieces.”
The slayer got up and did as she was asked, watching fascinated as the vampire vigorously boiled a chile pepper in a small amount of hot water, then strained the result liquid into a cup and set it aside. He then threw a split vanilla bean and cinnamon stick into the pan of milk, and heated the concoction until it was just starting to bubble.
Turning down the heat, Angel added the chopped-up chocolate, and a spoonful of honey, to the pan, and whisked the mixture until the chocolate dissolved. He then turned off the flame and carefully removing the spices. Finally, he stirred in a small amount of the chile-infused water, and poured the finished drink into four mugs with a dramatic flourish.
“You’re going to make someone a great wife someday,” Faith teased, as she took a small sip of the hot chocolate from the cup that Angel handed to her.
The drink was sweet and creamy in flavour with an added kick of spice – definitely the ultimate comfort food. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the wonderful aroma of the thick, chocolate-y beverage, letting the delectable smell calm her overwrought senses.
“Come on – we should take this upstairs before it gets cold.”
Faith’s whole body tensed, and her eyes snapped open in sudden panic, “I can’t!”
“Yes, you can,” Angel told her in a firm but gentle tone. “It’s not going to be as bad as you think, I promise.”
Handing her another steaming mug, he picked up the other two drinks in one hand, and then ushered the stressed slayer out of the kitchen, a reassuring hand against the small of her back.
Knowing she couldn’t avoid the dreaded reunion with Wesley for much longer, Faith reluctantly ascended the stairs in front of the quietly insistent vampire. She was sick to the stomach with nerves though, her hands shaking so much that she was forced to tighten her grip on the cups, to avoid spilling the hot drink all over herself.
“Wes does look a complete mess, but the doctor said he would make a full recovery,” Angel said, deciding it was probably best to prepare her a bit before she faced her watcher. “And he doesn’t blame you for what happened, so stop worrying about it, okay?”
“I still feel responsible, Angel.”
“I know, but you shouldn’t. I understand that it’s hard to separate yourself right now, but it’ll get easier with time.”
Faith failed to make a response to that, having stopped in her tracks when faced with the closed door of the bedroom. Behind that simple wooden panel lay what she had worked herself up into such a frenzy of worry over. Taking charge of the awkward situation, Angel stepped around the slayer’s frozen form, and entered the bedroom ahead of her.
“What took you so long?” Cordelia asked from where she sat, perched on the edge of the bed.
“I got a bit distracted,” Angel said shortly, choosing not to elaborate further on the reason for the delay. He was undecided on whether he should tell her about what was going on with Buffy. He had an inkling that it would make the situation infinitely worse.
Frowning at her boyfriend’s sharp tone, Cordelia felt a frisson of fear run through her in response to the torn look she could see in his darkly expressive eyes. Her gaze moved past him to where Faith was standing framed in the doorway, her face pasty-white with fear, and the seer quickly set aside her own concerns to aid her friend.
Rising to her feet, Cordelia gently drew the trembling slayer into the room. “Hey, is that Angel’s scrumptious hot chocolate, I can smell?” she asked, keeping her voice deliberately cheery. “Oo Wes – you are honoured.”
“Yeah, I only make it for a very select few,” Angel interjected with a grin.
“I helped,” Faith blurted out, and then immediately wished the ground would open up under her. Geez! I sound like that ditzy chick in Dirty Dancing – ‘I carried a water-melon.’
“Thanks,” Wesley said steadily, from where he was propped up against a mini-mountain of pillows. He held out his hand for the drink, his concerned blue eyes never leaving the slayer’s drawn features.
Faith hesitated for a moment, and then lurched forward and placed the mug into his outstretched hand. Taking in the black and blue welts and scabbed-over cuts marking Wesley’s face, her eyes immediately filled with tears of remorse, and she broke down, unable to hold things together any longer.
“Oh God! I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, sinking to her knees and burying her face in her hands. “I should have done something, I should have!”
Setting his drink on the bedside cabinet, Wesley reached out and soothingly stroked his fingers through the messy waves of his slayer’s dark hair. “You did the right thing,” he assured her. “What happened wasn’t your fault – it was all the Orb’s doing.”
“But I could have stopped it.” Faith said, her anguished words muffled by her fingers.
“And you did – when the time was right for you to do so.”
“But you… I tortured you, Wes.”
“No, the Orb did,” he quickly refuted her statement. “Besides, I’ll live so there’s no real damage done, now is there?”
“How can you say that?” Faith raised her tear-streaked face, aghast at his calmly accepting attitude towards his suffering.
Wesley shrugged, “Because it’s true.”
The slayer wished she could accept this at face value, but she simply could not. What Wesley had been through, there was no way that he would be able to brush it under the carpet so easily – she knew it and so did he.
Seeing the war of emotions playing over her features, Wesley sighed. “All right so it’s not, but I know you’re sorry, and I absolutely refuse to lay any blame for what happened at your door. Without what you did seven months ago – and last night for that matter – we would all be under the control of the Orb right now.”
“Wes is right, Faith,” Angel said. “Sometimes being what we are means that we have to make hard choices. It’s tough, I know, but necessary all the same.”
“You would all have to be annoying reasonable, wouldn’t you?” Faith griped good-naturedly, her voice still thick with tears.
“I believe that’s what us watchers are for – to temper our slayer’s rampant over enthusiasm,” Wesley gently teased, trying to lighten the mood a little. He was simply too tired and emotionally exhausted to deal with the lingering after-effects of his – and Faith’s – ordeal, at present.
The slayer’s tears overflowed again at his words, and she automatically leaned over to give him a hug, mindful of his painful injuries.
“I just remembered – I don’t do hugs,” she mumbled against Wesley’s neck moments later, as he rubbed his hand soothingly up and down her shuddering back.
“So I see,” came the soft reply from her watcher. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone – your reputation is still intact.”
Angel and Cordelia smiled at each other at this, and then sensing that their presence was no longer needed, they quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.
“They are going to be okay, aren’t they?” Cordelia asked for some reassurance from her boyfriend.
“It’ll take time, but they’re gonna make it through, I’m certain of it,” he replied, drawing her close and placing a gentle kiss in the centre of her forehead.
They stood in silence for a few moments, and then the seer tipped her head back to look up into her boyfriend’s handsome face, as she slowly became aware of the underlying tension in his stance.
“So, what’s going on?” she demanded. “And don’t even think of saying ‘nothing’, because I know you.”
Angel briefly closed his eyes, and then opened them again to look down into Cordelia’s upturned face.
“All right, I tell you. Just don’t freak out, okay?”