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Notes: Dark AU, Spander with Wesley.
The Assistant part 9
The moment the elevator doors open, Wesley has the sense that they've walked into the middle of something. The basement is silent, but the air feels electric. He's felt this same kind of tingle at boxing matches and in brawls. Anywhere violence was being done. He's never felt it in silence before.
Without thinking, he raises the crossbow, and Spike lifts an eyebrow.
"What, you thought they'd be practicing for the pub quiz?"
Wesley doesn't know what he thought, but now that they're down here, he feels underprepared.
Spike leads the way, the cooler up on his shoulder, like a man negligently carrying supplies to a picnic. For some reason he doesn't seem bothered by the charge in the air, or maybe he's just steeled himself against it.
"Here comes the cavalry," Angelus says, as they start down the hall. "That was fast."
"We're not rescuing anyone," Wesley says. "We're bringing blood for Xander. If you're lucky, I won't put a bolt in you for his lunchtime entertainment."
"No blood for me? Spike, hey, remember Budapest?"
"Here," Spike says, setting the cooler down beside Xander's cell and pulling out a bag. "Couple of these ought to make you feel better."
"I don't think you ever paid me back for that dinner," Angelus goes on, speaking to Spike's back. "And those were very well-endowed meals, if I recall correctly. Tell you what, you toss me one of those bags and I'll forget all about it."
"Come on," Spike says, pushing a bag between the bars of Xander's cage. "Just ignore him."
Xander is sitting in a small heap against the farthest wall of his cage from Angelus. He's in game face, but it's the most miserable game face Wesley has ever seen. His posture is textbook submissive. When Spike puts the blood bag on the floor in front of him, he looks at it but doesn't move to pick it up.
"Go on," Spike says quietly. "Take it."
"It's good for you," Angelus says. "You're a growing demon, Xander. You need your blood."
"Shut up," Spike says.
"I'm helping. Xander, hey, remember your first meal? You were pretty happy about blood then, remember? I thought you were going to eat my arm off, you were so happy about it."
Xander reaches out and touches the bag with one finger.
"Ignore him," Spike says.
"Kind of took me by surprise," Angelus goes on. "I mean, you were the Slayer's right-hand man, and I have to say, you took the torture pretty well, so I almost expected you to spit in my face, you know? But when it came down to it, you sucked so hard I thought I was going to--"
Wesley raises the crossbow sight to his eye, at the same moment that Xander picks up the blood bag and whips it through the bars of his cage. It throws Wes's aim, and he knows as soon as he's squeezed the trigger that the bolt's slightly wide. Angelus knows it too, and simply pulls his body to the side. The bolt hits the wall behind him. The blood bag clips his shoulder and explodes.
Wesley keeps the bow up and his eye in the sight. Angelus sits shaking blood out of his shirt with a look of faint disgust on his face.
"This was a good shirt," he says, with irritation.
"Please keep talking," Wesley says. His finger tightens on the trigger.
From the corner of his eye, he can see Spike staring at Xander, and Xander staring at the floor. There's some kind of stand-off going on down there, which is not good.
"I was only kidding," Angelus says. "You weren't the Slayer's right-hand man."
"Fine," Spike says sharply, like a parent concluding an argument with a child. He drops the extra bag back in the cooler and fits the lid back on. "Waste of time."
"You've gotta be strict with them," Angelus says. "Kids love boundaries."
"We're leaving," Spike says, hoisting the cooler and standing up.
"Must be hard," Angelus says. "You get a soul, you get a boyfriend, everything's great, then suddenly--" He makes a phht sound, and shrugs. "Boyfriend's soul goes right out the window. That's tough, Spike."
"I'll survive."
"You two make such a cute couple, though. You're like--" Angelus pauses, and Spike looks at Wesley.
"I thought you were going to shoot him."
"Mutt and Jeff," Angelus says. "Laverne and Shirley. Shari Lewis and Lambchop."
"I'll follow you," Wesley says, keeping his eyes on Angelus.
"He seriously thought you were going to find him," Angelus goes on. "Right to the end. That's love, Spike."
Spike is already walking away, back to the elevator. Wesley considers pulling the trigger a few more times, just for satisfaction, but that's a bad idea for several reasons. He walks backwards down the hall, never lowering the bow.
"I'm serious, Spike!" Angelus raises his voice as if Spike can't hear him all the way to the elevators. "This one's a keeper! You might want to reconsider that soul of yours!" The elevator is waiting; they step inside. Spike pushes the button for the twelfth floor, for the library. Wesley waits until the doors close, then turns the key to hold them there.
"Is that true?" he asks, trying to keep his breathing normal.
Spike's staring at the floor, fishing for his cigarettes in his back pocket. "Is what true?"
"You and Xander. Were you..." He doesn't quite know how to say it, he's so taken aback. "You were lovers?"
Spike gives him a startled look, then barks a laugh. "Lovers? That's very nineteenth-century of you, Wes." He reaches for the key, and Wesley knocks his hand away with the end of the bow.
"It's very stupid of you," Wesley counters, "not to have told me."
"None of your business. Besides." Spike's expression shifts to the You are not very bright look. "Wasn't like we hid anything. You just never lift your head out of those fucking books."
"I'm sorry it didn't occur to me that two of my friends were having sex during off moments while we saved the world from apocalypse. I can't think why I was so blind."
"Me neither." Spike reaches for the key again, and Wesley knocks his hand away again.
"The point is not that you've shown astonishingly bad judgment, Spike. Although you have. The point is that Angelus knew, and I didn't, and if there's anything else I should know about, I'd appreciate your telling me now."
Spike makes a show of thinking it over. "Nah. Pretty much just the sex."
They stand looking at each other. Wesley changes his grip on the crossbow, because his hands are sweating. Spike pulls a cigarette out of his crumpled package, and straightens it moodily.
"Sorry," he says at last, flicking a bit of tobacco to the floor. "I've had a few things on my mind lately."
Wesley shifts his stare to the wall behind Spike's shoulder, and engages in a fierce internal debate. He's not afraid that Spike will try to lose his soul, as Angelus suggested. No matter how bad the timing, no matter how cruel the twists of fate, he can't see Spike doing that. But he keeps thinking of what he saw in the security monitor--the two bodies spooned silently in the narrow bunk. That, and what Angelus said about Xander's last hours. Once upon a time, a million years ago, he'd been in love with Winnifred Burkle. If he'd had to think of her waiting for him, trusting in him, and dying horribly anyway, it would have ripped his heart in half.
Spike reaches for the key again, and this time Wesley stops him with a hand.
"There are chains down here," he says, verifying. Spike looks puzzled.
"Yeah. Sure."
"Heavy ones."
Spike studies Wesley's face. There's a faint glimmer in his eyes, a look of growing understanding. "Yeah."
Wesley takes a deep breath, settles his shoulders, and hopes to God he's not being an idiot. "All right. We'll take Xander up with us."
