Seas Between Us (Broad Have Roared) by Enigmaticblue

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 :: 11 ::

Chapters 3 & 4

Chapter 3: What I Remember

"The biggest lies are the little ones/when the look in your eyes is the distant one/Angel or demon/you know that they can share the same bed/I've laid awake so long/I've got them both inside my head/This is what I remember most about dying/So many moments like ghosts/slipping through my hands in vain/You were 80% angel/10% demon/and the rest was hard to explain..." ~Over the Rhine, "What I'll Remember Most"

Fred paused outside Wesley's office, trying to figure out how to word her question. She was dying to know who the girl was—the one she'd seen Wesley getting into the elevator with, all friendly-like. Fred was sure she'd never seen the woman before, and she didn't know why Wesley would be with her.

Her feelings about Wes were rather mixed at the moment. Fred knew that he loved her. What he had done for her—killing the thing that wore his father's face—without even a moment's hesitation—

Well, it both scared the daylights out of her and made her feel stomach feel all fluttery. What did a girl do with that kind of love?

The hard part was that Fred had never really looked at Wesley that way. He'd always been Wesley—strong, dependable, sweet. Then he sprang his feelings on her, and Fred could look back and see signs that he'd had strong feelings for a while. Wes had simply hidden them from her, and Fred wasn't sure if that made him a consummate actor or suggested that her woman's intuition was out of whack.

For a short time there had been Knox. Fred had dabbled; she could admit it. It had become obvious that having anything other than a professional relationship with an employee could be very bad, though.

Wesley was different.

So now she wanted to know who that girl had been without letting on to the fact that she was jealous. Fred still wanted to keep her feelings close to her chest, at least until she had them figured out.

The perfect excuse finally occurred to her, and Fred wondered why she hadn't thought of it earlier. She knocked, waiting for Wesley's voice to call, "Come in."

She saw it in his eyes as he looked up. He wasn't precisely happy to see her, and she tried to hide her wince. Things had become so strained between all of them. He had hidden his emotions behind a smile in the next moment. "Can I help you, Fred?"

"I was wondering if you knew where Spike was," she replied innocently. "I thought I might see if I could cheer him up today."

Wesley leaned back, putting his pencil down so he could give Fred his full attention. This was the first time since the affair with the cyborg that she had visited his office. "He's at my apartment, actually. I thought he might like to get out of here for a change."

"Oh." Thinking about it now, Fred felt badly that she hadn't done the same. Not that she would have been comfortable allowing Spike to stay at her apartment, but still. She could have done something more for him. Instead, once he'd become solid, she had gotten caught up in her own life again. "He's okay, isn't he?"

Wesley shrugged. "I'm not certain. I imagine that would depend on what Buffy has to say."

"Oh!" Fred exclaimed. "That was the woman you were with!" She turned bright red when Wesley raised an eyebrow, obviously catching the lingering emotion in her tone. An emotion he didn't quite recognize. "I saw you getting on the elevator earlier," she explained quickly.

"And you were curious?" Wesley asked quietly. "Of course. Well, Buffy was here to see Spike. I'm not sure I want to know what they're doing in my apartment right now, whether everything is going well or not."

Fred giggled. "Hopefully your furniture won't suffer too much."

Wesley's smile was pained. "I was trying not to think about that."

She grinned again, and then her smile faded to be replaced by a more thoughtful look. "Are you hungry?"

Wesley blinked. "What?"

"Are you hungry?" she repeated patiently. "Because I'm starving. I was thinking I might try to find some tacos."

He frowned slightly and then decided that he didn't have anything better to do. "I could eat."

"Good," Fred replied. "I hate eating alone."

Wesley winced, the memory of eating a TV dinner alone in his apartment stark. It must have been just after Fred and Gunn started dating. "Me too."

~~~~~

The problem with big reunions was what came after. It wasn't like either Buffy or Spike had much to tell the other. "So that's it, huh?" Spike asked.

"There isn't much more," Buffy admitted. "I haven't been into getting the new Council up and running. It's mostly just been me and Dawn hanging in Rome ." That reminded her. "Oh, Dawn! She sent a note."

Spike frowned, taking the piece of paper Buffy held out to him. "She sent this?"

"Yeah, when I told her I was coming out." At the look on his face, she quickly said, "Dawn's completely capable of looking after herself for a while."

"How long?"

"I don't know." Buffy bit her lip. "I don't have a return ticket yet."

Spike drew in a deep, shuddering breath, opening the note and quickly scanning it. In Dawn's familiar, untidy scrawl, he read, "I don't hate you, and you'd better visit, or I will kick your ass." He chuckled.

"Can I see?" He handed the note over to Buffy who read it and rolled her eyes. "That's Dawnie," she commented. "What do you think, Spike? You could come back to Rome with me."

"I can't." The words were out of his mouth before Spike realized he meant them. And he did mean them. He couldn't leave right now.

Buffy met his eyes, nodding slowly. "Okay."

He was almost disappointed in how quickly she gave in. "Okay?"

"I told you I don't have a return ticket," Buffy replied quietly. "I can stay for a while. If you need to be in L.A. , then I'll stick around."

"What about Dawn?" Spike asked, confused.

Buffy shrugged. "Like I said, Dawn will be fine. If I need to go back, I will, but long distance relationships are possible."

Spike frowned, trying to figure out exactly what she meant. "You're staying."

"With you," Buffy clarified. "If you want me," she added in a small voice. "I mean, you haven't said if—"

Spike shut her up with a kiss. "I want you," he said firmly. "It's just—'m a bit aimless at the moment, pet. Don't even have a proper place to stay."

She leaned into him. "Then maybe that should be our first step. We can get you set up in a place of your own."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Apparently, Angel has a hotel. Wesley was thinkin' I could use it. I thought—dunno. I thought maybe I could do somethin' from there." He sounded almost embarrassed as he added, "Help people, you know."

"Is that what you want to do?"

Spike thought that Buffy sounded interested rather than derisive. "Dunno. What else am I gonna do?"

"Whatever you want," Buffy replied with a smile.

He glanced over at her. "You don't seem to have an opinion on this, pet."

"The Hellmouth is closed, Spike. There are dozens, if not hundreds, of new Slayers ready and willing to fight the forces of evil." She gave him a dazzling smile. "I'm retired."

Spike grinned. "Bit young for that, aren't you, luv?"

"I've died twice," she reminded him. "So have you, for that matter."

"They say the third time's the charm," he pointed out.

"Don't even joke about that," Buffy said fiercely. "I just got you back."

"Buffy—" Spike had no idea what he had to offer her these days. Before he got his soul, it had been different. Spike had believed that he would be enough. Now, he wasn't so sure. Buffy deserved so much more.

"Do you still love me?" Buffy asked point blank.

"With all my soul," Spike confessed.

She nodded. "That's enough."

"Buffy, I have the clothes on my back an' my coat. That's it. Don't even have a place to live. I don't have anything to give you."

She stared at him. "Haven't you heard a word I've been saying?" she demanded. "I've spent the last few months believing that I would never see you again. All I want is you. The rest can wait."

"You sure 'bout that, luv? I mean, maybe you'd rather—"

Buffy put her hands on either side of her face. "Spike. Shut up."

"Got it."

They didn't say much for a quite a while after that.

~~~~~

In the end, they brought their food back to the office. Wesley had something he wanted to work on, and Fred offered to get some of her own paperwork so that she could hang out with him. Wesley wasn't quite sure what was going on. This was the most time Fred had spent with him since—

The memories kept sliding away from him, although it wasn't something that Wesley actually noticed. The strange sense of missing something was there and then it wasn't—almost before he noticed. So it was that every time something jogged his memory, something else kept Wesley from looking at it too closely.

In truth, Wesley didn't want to ask too many questions. Fred seemed to be seeking out his company. It didn't get much better than that.

Of course, he couldn't quite believe it was happening.

"Are you sure Knox doesn't need any help?"

Fred looked at him with wide eyes. "Why would Knox need any help?"

"Well, I thought perhaps that he might—need help. Or something." Wesley knew it was lame as soon as the words came out of his mouth, but it was too late to pull them back in.

Fred frowned. "It's fine, Wesley. They know where to find me, and Knox can handle the lab on his own for a while."

"Oh, well, that's good."

Wesley wished he could come up with something more to say, but he didn't have the words. He was trying to act as though everything was normal, but it wasn't. Fred was in his office, eating tacos, more comfortable with him than she had been in a very long time.

He frowned as he flipped open a folder. "This is interesting."

"What is?" Fred came over to look over his shoulder. Wesley could smell her faint perfume.

Wesley moved the pictures so that she could see better. "These attacks are highly unusual."

Fred made a face. The picture was of a man who had a rather large hole in his stomach. "The liver was cut out? That's creepy."

"Mmm," Wesley said absently, looking over the pertinent information avidly. It was more than creepy really. "This is something we ought to get on," he said. "Apparently, this is not the first time this has happened, and it most likely won't be the last."

Fred's hand crept onto his shoulder of its own accord. "Absolutely," she agreed. "We ought to get on that right away."

Maybe it would even take all night...

~~~~~

Gunn could feel it slipping away. All the knowledge, everything that made him special—it was disappearing.

For so long, he had been the muscle, the guy with the ax. He wasn't even unique in that area since Angel was stronger and faster. Wesley was the one with the books, and Fred was the techno-brain, and Cordy was the glue that bound everything together.

He'd just been the leftovers.

It had been Gwen that clued him in to the fact that he could be more. Even though her methods had been slightly underhanded, she'd shown him something about himself. She'd shown him that he could be smart and savvy.

No, Gwen had shown him that he was smart and savvy. There was a difference.

Then Wolfram & Hart had come along and offered him the chance to make it all real, to change his life. Gunn liked to believe that if life had been different, maybe he would have been a lawyer. He would have been the one to stick it to the Man.

Gunn would have done it on his own, if life hadn't been such a bitch.

Now he was frantic with worry, fearing that he was going to lose everything.

There was no way he was going to go back.

~~~~~

Angel held Cordy's lax hand in his own larger one. The machine registering her heartbeat bleeped—a constant, reassuring sound. Not even the excellent doctors at Wolfram & Hart could tell him whether or not Cordy would ever wake up.

"Buffy came by today," he said quietly. "She was looking for Spike. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Andrew told her. It just makes it all that much more final, you know? We aren't together anymore, and we never will be again."

His thumb was rubbing slow circles on her hand. "I wish you could tell me what to do, Cordy. Being here—I don't regret it. I can't, not after what they did for Connor, but it's all different. We're so spread out. I never see the others anymore. I miss the days when we were a team."

Angel rested his forehead on her bed. "I miss you," he whispered.

He didn't see her eyes pop open.

Chapter 4: Call You Mine

"It's only me in this flimsy dress/I could spread this love from the east to the west/My bed is made, the world's a mess/Maybe we've got it backwards/Maybe we should just care less/I close my eyes, I see your face/Every inch of your skin I begin to retrace/Let me be the voice inside your head/Let me whisper/We can sleep when we are dead." ~Over the Rhine , "Show Me"

Eventually Spike slowed down their explorations, although it cost him something to do so. It had been over a year since the last time they'd had sex—and they had never made love. The closest they had come was the night that Riley had walked in on them, and Spike didn't much like to think about that.

Like many of his memories, it hurt too damn much.

Buffy seemed as reluctant to slow down as he was, breaking off her kiss with a sigh that sounded like it came from her toes. "We probably should take this somewhere else," she said wryly. "Poor Wes would never forgive us if he found out we— used his couch."

An evil smile lifted the corners of Spike's lips. "Oh, I fully intend on givin' the Watcher a full report of whatever we do with—or on—his furniture."

Buffy slapped him half-heartedly on the chest. "Don't be a pig, Spike."

"So we're back to name-calling now, are we, pet?" he asked with a lifted eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes. "Only when you mention describing my sex life to my former Watcher. That's just gross."

Spike's smile faded a bit. "You think we should wait for a bit?"

"Do you want to wait?" Buffy asked. It was rather obvious that he wanted her, so that wasn't a problem.

He shrugged. "Dunno. Just don't want to be leapin' into things is all."

"Spike, we spent all of last year not 'leaping into things.' I think some leaping is warranted at this point." Buffy frowned. "Unless there's some other problem I should know about."

Spike looked highly affronted. "There's no problem," he said darkly. "Just—I can hardly believe this is all real," he confessed. "I dreamed about this so many bloody times, an' now—"

"I'm here," Buffy said. "I'm not going anywhere unless I have to."

Spike nodded, understanding. She had dropped everything and flown halfway around the globe, but that didn't mean Buffy didn't have obligations that she might need to attend to. "Right."

"Well, I do need to do some shopping," Buffy said thoughtfully. "I'll probably have Dawn fly to L.A. on her next break from school, and she can bring some of my stuff then, but I'll need a few things to tide me over."

Spike appeared curious. "What kinds of things, luv?"

"Pretty much everything," Buffy admitted ruefully. "I threw a few things in a bag and was on the next flight out. There wasn't much time to pack."

Spike stared at her. "What did you bring with you?"

"A couple changes of clothes, my makeup, the essentials," Buffy listed. "Why?"

His eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline. "How many pairs of shoes?"

"One essential pair of black boots," Buffy said, holding up one foot to demonstrate. "Spike, what—"

Her question was cut off by his incredibly enthusiastic kiss. He literally pounced on her, and while Buffy wasn't complaining one bit, she couldn't figure out what had flipped the switch. "Mmph, Spike," she said once he let her breathe. "What was that for?" she asked, her eyes slightly dazed.

"You brought one pair of shoes," he pointed out. "An' you're wearing 'em."

"So?"

His expression was incredulous. "You only brought one pair of boots! That oughta be impossible!"

Spike's eyes were as gleeful as a boy's who had just gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas. Buffy finally caught on. He knew her too well. "I wanted to get to you," she said simply. "After Andrew told me you were alive, and what Dana had done to you..." Buffy grabbed his left hand and placed a kiss on his palm. "If I ever get my hands on her—"

"Wasn't the chit's fault," Spike said quickly. "She was crazy, an' I rushed in half-cocked."

"Do you ever go in any other way?" Buffy teased.

He gave her a sour look. "Ha-bloody-ha, Slayer."

She glanced over at the covered windows. It was obvious that the sun was going down. "I say we take this conversation elsewhere," Buffy determined. "I'm hungry, and I need to get a few things, and then maybe we could go back to my hotel."

Her heated look left no question as to what exactly she wanted to do at her hotel. Spike decided that he was amenable. "Whatever you like, pet."

The phone rang, and Spike reached over to pick it up, just in case it was Wesley calling for some reason. "H'lo?" Buffy watched as he frowned. "Sure, mate. You know what it is yet?"

Buffy sighed, already knowing what was coming. For the first time, Spike was more into the Slaying than she was, but there was no way she was going to let him out of her sight.

Even if they never did make it back to her hotel room.

Spike hung up the phone and gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, pet, but—"

"Let's go," Buffy said, rising.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "You want to go? You don't have to. I could meet you back at your hotel once we get this taken care of."

"What is it?"

"Some sort of demon that's been eatin' livers. While the victim's still alive."

Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Eww."

Spike grinned. He loved Buffy's grossed-out face. "Yeah, well, that's where I come in."

"Are you sure you're up for it?" Buffy asked with concern. "I mean, your hands—"

He wriggled his fingers at her. "Don't need fine motor control to hold an ax."

Buffy humphed. "Fine, but I'm not letting you out of my sight. We're doing this together."

Spike raised his eyebrows. "Just like old times, huh?"

"Nah," Buffy replied. "Even better."

~~~~~

"Are you sure we should have bothered them?" Fred asked. "I mean, Buffy did just get into town. They probably want more alone time."

Wesley gave her a look. "If you would like to attempt to convince Angel to take care of this little problem, be my guest."

"Angel's just getting used to things." Fred sounded uncertain, however, as though she didn't quite believe it herself.

Wesley sighed. "Angel has had more than enough time to 'get used to things,' as you say. He simply doesn't seem to care anymore."

Fred frowned, unable to disagree. "He's changed, but all of us have, Wesley. I'm sure he's just missing Cordy."

"It's more than that, I think," Wesley muttered. The muscles in his shoulders tensed as Fred's hand brushed his back.

Fred let her hand wander a bit more, her fingertips brushing the soft fabric of Wesley's shirt without much thought. He just felt so solid. Fred didn't much like to think about the fact that it had been over a year since she'd had the chance to feel a man's arms around her.

Wesley's arms were strong; she remembered that much.

"Do you think someone should talk to him?"

"What would you say, Fred?" Wesley asked quietly.

Fred got a stubborn look on her face that Wesley didn't often see but knew well enough to recognize. "I'd tell him to pull his head out of his ass."

"Fred!" Wesley appeared torn between delight and shock.

"Well, I would," she insisted. "He's being stupid about this whole thing. Remember when Spike was a ghost? Angel didn't even want me helping him."

Wesley made a face. "Tell me about it. I was thinking of suggesting that Spike stay at the Hyperion."

"You didn't tell Angel, did you?"

"Do I look like I've gone round the bend?" A grin broke out over Wesley's face. "I thought I'd just let Spike camp out there. Perhaps he would put the place to good use."

Fred gave him an appreciative look. "You're sneaky."

Wesley lifted an eyebrow. "Only when I have to be."

~~~~~

Gunn collapsed into his office chair. Making his upgrades permanent had taken a lot out of him, but they would be expecting him to be at the office. For some reason, he really didn't want anyone to know that he'd had to go back to that doctor. There was still the question of what he had done by signing that piece of paper.

Charles Gunn didn't want to look at that too closely.

If the upgrade was permanent, he didn't have to worry about losing it in the middle of a case again. He could still advise Angel on contracts. He would still have something that no one else had.

Gunn would be special.

There was a small piece of him that knew signing the piece of paper to allow transport of a quarantined object into the country was unethical. More than that, it was probably dangerous.

That was why he wasn't allowing himself to think about it too much.

Pressing the button to his secretary, he said, "Hold all my calls."

He just needed a little time to recover.

~~~~~

"Angel?"

His head shot up. "Cordy?"

"What are you doing here?"

Angel stared at her. Cordelia's eyes were open for the first time in months—and it was really her. After the body-switching of the previous year, Angel knew the real deal from the evil twin, and this was the real deal. "What—I'm here to visit you."

Cordy frowned as she moved her head to look around the room. "Wait a minute," she said. "Where am I?"

"In a hospital," Angel replied, not mentioning that it was the hospital wing of Wolfram and Hart.

Cordy looked at him. "What am I doing in the hospital?"

"You—there was an accident," Angel replied. He had no idea what Cordelia remembered, or if the memory alterations had worked on her.

She pushed herself up slowly, obviously weakened by her months of inactivity, but not as much as she might have been had it been a natural coma. "An accident?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Angel asked.

Cordelia shook her head, trying to clear it. "I was going to meet you—"

"That's right." Angel breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently she didn't remember anything in between then and now. Maybe that meant she wouldn't remember Connor. "You never made it."

"No, because Skip showed up and totally tricked me!" Cordelia said with righteous indignation. "He hijacked my body!"

Angel blinked. "Uh..."

"And you!" Cordelia glared at him. "You couldn't tell the difference between me and my evil twin!"

"Cordy, really, it was—"

Her eyes narrowed. "And where is Connor?"

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