::.. Witlingville ..::

Notes: Dark AU, Spander with Wesley.

The Assistant part 8

"I've got to hand it to you, Wes, that was clever." Angelus runs a finger along the crossbar and examines it for dust. "I'm going to have to kill you for it, but still. Pretty clever."

"You're not going to kill anyone," Wesley says, not bothering to look up. "You're going to shut up and play nicely, or you're going to start losing body parts."

Angelus laughs. "You're turning me on."

"Think he's serious," Spike says to Angelus. "You might want to shut your gob for once."

"It's going to be interesting," Angelus says, "seeing what happens when I turn you again. I mean, can a vampire be turned? I figure there's a fifty-fifty chance you'll lose the soul. Or you'll just be dust. Hard to say."

Wesley opens the holy water and tosses a dash across Angelus's hand and wrist. There's a curl of blue smoke, and Angelus yanks his arm back with a snarl.

"You were saying?" Wesley holds the bottle ready, at face height.

Angelus holds his hand tight to his chest, his eyes yellow and hateful. For a moment Wesley has the distinct impression that he's being marked for death. Oddly, it doesn't worry him. It's starting to feel old hat.

"Sorry," Angelus says, smiling and lowering his gaze to inspect his hand. "I forgot who was in charge for a minute."

"Sit down," Wesley says. "And shut up."

Angelus strolls to the back of the cage and hops onto the bunk. He blows on his knuckles, his expression cheerful.

Wesley goes back to his book, looking for counters to some of the wards Angelus may have cast on himself. It's easier work with Angelus physically in the room, but there are still so many he can't be sure about. And there's something about Angelus in the flesh, something he'd forgotten or blocked from his memory. He has a way of putting everyone on edge, of making it hard to think straight, even when he's just sitting quietly. Especially when he's just sitting quietly.

"So what happens next?" Angelus asks, in an elaborately civil tone.

"Next," Wesley says, "we sort out what happened to you in the first place. Or rather, what happened to Angel."

"Can't help you there. I just woke up and found I had a serious urge to rip some throats out." Off Wesley's look, Angelus raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm trying to help, Wes."

"Then shut up," Spike says. Quite sensibly, Wesley thinks.

"Is it just me," Angelus says, "or does it seem like one of these things is not like the others?"

"What?" Wesley marks his place with his finger and looks up. Angelus is smiling.

"Everyone here's family, Wes. Except for you. That must feel kind of weird. Kind of like, I don't know. Being the only one in the room who doesn't speak Chinese."

"I don't speak Chinese," Spike says flatly.

"You used to."

There's a faint sound from behind them, and Wesley jerks around before he can catch himself. It's just Xander, shifting a step to the side, trying to get a better view of what's going on. He's standing with his forearms on the crossbar of his cage, his hands hanging through the bars. He looks a little better now, a little stronger. His face has some color, and the bruises are fading. His throat's healed considerably.

"Now that," Angelus says, pointing at Xander, "is unexpected." He looks at Wesley. "Did you notice that he's a vampire now, or should I go ahead and point that out?"

"We noticed," Wesley says, through gritted teeth.

"So what's the plan there? I'm curious, because frankly, you got me with the glamour, Wes. Obviously." Angelus taps the bar behind him without rancour. "You got an extra soul kicking around that you're gonna shove down his throat?"

"Perhaps," Wesley says, staring at the page in front of him. There's no harm in trying the counter-ward that he's looking at, so he puts the book carefully down on the chair, makes the motions, and mutters the words beneath his breath. Angelus shivers, then smacks the side of his neck, as if he's been bitten by an insect.

"Dammit, Wes. A little warning next time."

"Not if I can help it." Encouraged, Wesley goes back to the book and flips the page.

"Getting late," Spike says. "What next?"

Angelus assumes a listening posture. Wesley checks his watch, then closes the book, puts it on the chair, and drags the chair a few more feet from Angelus's cage. "We'll discuss it upstairs."

"Oh, come on," Angelus says, leaning forward. "I won't tell."

"If you do anything to upset Xander while we're gone," Wesley says evenly, "I'll stand at a safe distance and shoot you with bolts dipped in holy water, until you beg his forgiveness."

There's a brief pause. Angelus looks impressed.

"Wes," he says, "I think you're finally catching on to how this works."

"Come on," Wesley says to Spike, and starts back toward the elevator. Spike hesitates, then follows. As they pass Xander's cage, Xander reaches out and grabs the shoulder of Spike's shirt. It's not an attack; it's a plea.

"It's okay," Spike says, not looking too certain. "Won't be for very long."

"Don't leave me down here," Xander mutters. His eyes are fixed on Angelus, Wesley notices. Angelus waves brightly. "Please don't leave me down here with him--"

"Xander," Angelus says. "Son. You wound me."

Wesley turns and raises the crossbow, and Angelus puts one hand over his own mouth, the other raised innocently.

"Let go," Spike says, shaking his shoulder free. "I'll be back in a little while. Just don't talk to him."

"Please," Xander says, more quietly and more urgently. He looks at Wesley. "Wes. Come on. Please."

For a moment, Wesley looks at Spike, wondering if they can chance it. But Spike won't look back, won't open that door.

"I'm sorry," Wesley says. He turns and heads for the elevators, and Spike follows. There's silence from the cages behind them, until the doors of the elevator are almost closed. Then Angelus starts to laugh.

"Don't like leaving them down there," Spike says, as they walk quickly down the hall to the library.

"Oh, really?" Wesley asks. "I think it's wonderful. It fills me with joy."

"It's fucking heartless, for one thing."

"Spike." Wesley stops with his hand on the library door, and takes a deep breath. "I understand that your relationship with Xander has...changed. And that you feel strongly for him. But we don't have time for niceties."

The stony look Spike gives him is fairly eloquent, Wesley has to admit.

"Xander is my friend as well," he goes on. "And I feel responsible for what's happened to him. I have no intention of allowing him to be hurt any more, if I can help it. He was a good man."

"Still is," Spike says. Wesley just looks at him, and Spike looks down and amends, "All right, still could be."

"But at the moment he's a vampire without a soul, and that means we can't have him walking around loose."

"Leaving him tied up next to Angelus, though, that's not going to help anything."

"Tell me where else we can contain him, in this building."

Spike shrugs. "Vaults, probably. Not that that's any better, all alone in a vault. Just another way to make him go crazy."

"Right, so unless you want to chain him to your wrist for the foreseeable future, our course is clear."

Bizarrely, Spike looks thoughtful. Wesley raises a finger in retraction. "I wasn't serious."

"Throw a few chains on him, he might be all right."

"We can't afford to take a chance."

"I'd keep an eye on him."

"You have other problems. We both have other problems."

"What?" Spike raises an eyebrow. "Angelus's in the can, isn't he? Now it's just following the trail, figuring out what happened, how to fix it. You can do that."

"Not by myself."

"I can help, sure--won't matter if I've got Harris on my wrist for that stuff."

"We can't have him listening to everything we say, Spike. It isn't safe."

"Why, because he's going to run and tell Angelus? Were you downstairs five minutes ago? He can't get far enough away from the bastard."

Wesley shakes his head. "It doesn't matter, Spike. I won't agree to it."

"Toff," Spike snaps. "Bloody glacial fascist toff. Got your tie knotted so tight you can't feel a fucking thing below the neck."

Taken aback, Wesley doesn't know what to say. He drops his gaze and opens the library door to go in. Spike walks away down the hall without another word.

They're in over their heads, and the sensible thing to do would be to contact the Council, call for reinforcements. But Wesley's tried the sensible thing, and nobody's picking up. The phone rings and rings, then patches through to the general voice mail. It's strange and disturbing, although it turns out in the end to be nothing more than a temp on the front desk, who's set the foreign incoming line to spiral into the ether. The Tunbridge Wells incident hasn't been reported to the head office yet; in London, everything operates peacefully and in blissful ignorance.

With a sense of things unraveling around him, Wesley pulls books from the shelf. Bufwulder, Ranganathan, the Raven King, anyone he suspects might be able to help him figure out what to do with the warded, soulless master vampire in his basement. Or the hapless, newly-vamped former friend down there with him. The one who is no doubt currently being terrorized into psychosis. Spike is right, it's a bad idea to keep the two of them in proximity. But it's a worse one to let Xander out of the basement. If he got loose, if he injured anyone else--the Xander Harris that Wesley used to know would rather suffer.

Spike comes back in, heaves a delivery cooler onto the table, and starts unpacking blood bags.

"I'm sorry I called you a toff," he says to the bags, before Wesley can say anything.

"It's...all right," Wesley says. "You're right, it's a dismal arrangement."

Spike unpacks all the bags, checks their dates, then packs them all back into the cooler and puts the lid back on. "So, what's the plan?"

"As you said, it's mainly research. We need to learn what happened to Angel in the first place, and try to recapture his soul. If that's even possible. I have a call in to the Council, and I'm doing what I can with this library, but..." He shakes his head. "I'm open to suggestions."

"Xander needs to eat," Spike says. "I'm going to take him some blood."

"That seems dangerous," Wesley says immediately. "The situation is volatile enough--introducing blood into it seems like a very bad idea."

"And you were thinking of what, starving him?" Spike hoists the cooler and turns to go. "I'll keep my fingers and toes clear."

"Spike." Spike doesn't stop. "We still don't know what wards Angelus has cast on himself."

Spike walks out, letting the door fall shut behind him.

With a mounting sense of frustration, Wesley grabs the crossbow and follows.